Vinho de Inverno
This is my first winter living in the Northeast and just days ago I witnessed, for the first time, literal waves of ice crash on the shores of my tiny beach town like a bizarre John Donne sonnet. I dug my poor car out of snow, and then dug it out again after a snow plow blocked me in with three feet of frozen road sludge. It was awful. I wanted to cry next to a bottle of Jack or whatever country stars sing about. Thankfully for my well-worn liver, I work in food and beverage, so I’m pretty empirical when it comes to tasting anything. At home drinking during the earlier stages of the quarantine typically found me either enjoying shots of mezcal or mugs of hot lemon water with scotch (I think the latter might be a Goop recipe). Recently, though, I’ve been finding solace among 14 inches of snow with a bottle of wine and at-home dinner reservation for one. Cold and lonely as this (hopefully) late stage of the pandemic is, what better time to discover some new favorites to share with friends once it’s safe to return to the world?
Here are my mid-winter faves:
While I don’t subscribe to only enjoying white wine in summer and red in winter, I also don’t want to pop open a freezing bottle of champagne as soon as I take off my coat. This is where the almost-better-when-only-half-chilled white comes in.
Made by non-conformist Virginie Moreau, who took over control of the vines/wines after the sudden death of her husband, Stéphane, this Chardonnay really shows the depth that its region, Chablis, has to offer. A usual village Chablis (meaning no Premier or Grand Cru classification) comes off as ultra-citrusy, zingy, and austere. Zingy is fun in the summer, but a bit too perky for a night of eating pizza on the floor next to my space heater. Moreau’s Chablis, still racy and bright, shows a bit more personality with green pear and a tangy creaminess, reminiscent of the odd plain flavor at frozen yogurt shops.
Grapes are grown organically and biodynamically. Yeast is natural and fermentation is spontaneous. Aged in neutral oak barrels.
Chill for a few minutes, or as long as you want, and decant or open early for best quality. Pair with cheesy potatoes, garlicky veggies, oily pizza, and squash.
Price should be around $40. Moreau-Naudet is quite popular, so a sommelier at a wine shop should be able to point you in the right direction if it’s not available.
Quinta da Costa do Pinhao, ‘Gradual,’ Douro, Portugal 2018
I buy wine for a few restaurants, so I’m constantly on the lookout for that elusive “big, bold red” to appease guests who learned that phrase from Imus in the Morning on their commute in 2002. Maybe I’m still green, but I have no idea why every dude above 40 feels the need to say this phrase. Is “big, bold red” to the 2000s what “natural, orange bubbly” is to the 2020s? When I find a bottle that’s robust enough to placate those patrons, yet weird and exciting enough for me to want to bring home, I’m relieved.
Dry red wine from Portugal has barely any reputation in the States. Luis Seabra, winemaker of Costa do Pinhao, is doing what many others in the mountainous region of the Douro Valley in Portugal do (and have been doing for centuries)—creating beautifully crafted, dense, and rich, red wines. Produced from the same grapes as Port; Touriga Nacional, Touriga Franca, and Tinta Roriz (known in Spain as Tempranillo), Costa do Pinhao’s “Gradual” has layers of everything—smells like a fern and has a weird, almost Chinese medicine quality with flavors of blueberry compote, blackberries, and violets. Its body is rich and full, but its acidity keeps it from being too velvety and flat. Less graceful, more rugged but not four-wheeler spinning through the mud rugged. More British shepherd in a Barbour coat and Hunter boots rugged.
Organic grapes are hand-harvested, then literally foot-stomped (I love Portugal) in a giant schist bathtub until fermentation starts spontaneously by native yeasts. The wine is then aged in French oak.
Open early or decant. Drink with umami-flavors: mushrooms, beef-stews, strip steak, or a rib cut. Stay away from paring this with cheese or fish (though, a fatty filet-o-salmon is probably fine).
Price should be around $25. I’ve only tasted the “Gradual” from this producer, but I’m sure other wines in their book are similar. If it’s not available, just go for whatever dry Portuguese red you find. Bound to be dank (and cheap) enough to warm your insides with.
Domaine des Schistes, Solera, Muscat de Rivesaltes, Roussillon, France
Sweet alcohol can be mind-blowingly good. Not the rapper-backed Moscatos of the early 2010s or the $2000 bottle of Essencia Tokaji that rappers drink at Carbone.
Rivesaltes, a region in Southern France close enough to the Spanish border to make it more Catalan than French, makes its “vin doux naturel” (“naturally sweet wine”) via fortification, or the addition of alcohol to stop the fermentation of the white grapes. They are then aged outside in giant, open tear-drop shaped glass jars called demi-johns for a year. It sort of looks like a HAY Furniture ad. The wine develops flavors that we generally associate with oxidative and cooked wine: caramel, marzipan, sage, jammy peaches, and dried apricots.
I’ll admit that the winemakers of Domaine des Schistes do not age their “Solera” outside in glass vats. How exciting was that description though? Domaine des Schistes is, however, the only Rivesaltes open in my home at the moment and it’s just as delicious. Suggestive of a sherry but sweet and round and bright.
Organic grapes. Minimal use of sulfites. Produced in stainless steel then mixed with older vintages each year (going back to the 1990s, from what I’ve found online).
This wine is virtually indestructible because exposure to oxygen is a part of the process. I’ve had this bottle open in the fridge since last June and it hasn’t changed a bit. Drink at the end of dinner alone or pair with any cheese, almond-flavored desserts, or drizzle on top of vanilla ice cream.
Price is around $20-$25.