Showing posts with label wine guide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wine guide. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Harry Haddon's Incomplete & Unofficial Guide to the Hedonistic Pleasure of the Grape [FULL VERSION]

Harry Haddon's Incomplete & Unofficial Guide to the Hedonistic Pleasure of the Grape
The unofficial guide to wine - the official guide to the culture of Real Time Wine!



Chapter 1: Oh god more wine words, why?
Chapter 2: What the hell is in my glass?
Chapter 3: Drinking Smarter
Chapter 4: Down with scores and up with drinking: Harry's kak en lekker scale of wine
Chapter 5: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 1: Nature
Chapter 6: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 2: Nurture
Chapter 7: Taking back some wine words!
Chapter 8: The journey continues, one bottle at a time.



Excerpt from Chapter 1: You may already be asking why. Why do we need more words on wine? Can’t you leave us alone and let us just drink the stuff? Do we have to listen to some poncey, big nosed bastard who is going to tell us about the flutteringly fleet-footed scent of an angels fart, offset only by the delicate flavour of cigar boxed, pencil shaved bullshit? In short: Because it’s awesome, of course you can, and I damn well hope not.

Why wine? Well for the last couple thousand years (earliest estimates see evidence for wine making at around 7000 BC) we have been drinking it. We have drunk it to escape our cruel and short lives, to grease our brain’s cogs and wheels, to liven up parties, to find inspiration, and to worship our gods. We have traded wine, made millions with wine, and lost it all with wine. We’ve made it sweet, drunk it sour, wrote books on it, fought for it, died for it, and we have drunk wine because, goddamnit, drinking it is awesome. Wine was at the start of civilization and it will be there, in whatever form, at the end.

So whether you like wine or not, wherever you are on this mortal coil, it’s not going anywhere
But here is the tricky bit, and one that frustrates me, and you I am sure, to no end. How did this wonderful liquid, rich in history, gain this horrible reputation: the more you know about it, the more likely you are to be a pretentious snob.



What the critics had to say...

"Some of my finest work." - Harry Haddon
"Who are you?" - Platters
"Wine! Wine! Wine! Wine!" - The Fans
"He's a genius. It's the best app known to man." - Harry's Friend.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 8 of 8: The journey continues, one bottle at a time.


Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Eight: The journey continues, one bottle at a time.



Here we are then, 7 chapters later, at the end of Harry’s unofficial and incomplete introduction into wine. There is so so much that has been left out. I never even got to tell you about how Champagne was once a red wine and used as medicine. I never mentioned Port, Noble Late Harvest, Sherry, all majestic, fun and delightful drinks that are inexplicably forgotten by most modern drinkers. Shame on me.

Thankfully this has not been a course, this is no Wine 101, you will receive no credits, diplomas, not even a single noddy badge. Nada. What I hope that I have given you is a little shove. A nudge to get you into the deep end, where you either learn or get drunk trying.

But I am not going to leave you without any armbands. In this final chapter I want to leave you with some practical tips on how to best progress with your wine lives. Lessons I have learnt from five years of heavy drinking.

The Practical Route

Look, this is so obvious it pains me to type it. The best way to learn more about wine is to drink the stuff. Drink it all the time. Drink it when you are happy, drink wine when you are sad; when you are hot drink chilled Chenin, when you are cold, a delicious glass of Port; drink when you are bored, drink when you are occupied, drink, friends, and be merry.

But – and this is a rather large one – drink differently. If you drink wine all the time but are keeping yourself to the few brands you know, well, it looks more like alcoholism than anything else. I am not suggesting you consume dangerous amounts of wine, I am saying you need to drink more kinds of wine more often.

Look for wine tastings that are being held in your area. Attend them. Don’t worry about not knowing everything, claim your ignorance, wine people are very – despite the horrible reputation given by some – welcoming.

If you are slightly misanthropic, but have a hefty budget even better. I’ll give you the details of my favourite wine shop that will be able to help you find new and exciting wines. Remember this, there is always a wine you haven’t tasted that’ll blow your freaking socks off. There will be until the day you shuffle off this mortal coil. That, friends, is one of the most optimistic things I have ever typed.

Don’t just drink, read. Anything written by Hugh Johnson is amazing, the book Grapes & Wines by Oz Clarke is fantastic, and one of the most useful and friendly wine books I have come across.

Fuck tasting notes. You shouldn’t be reading too many tasting notes, which is what pollutes so many wine blogs today. They are useful to a degree, but if you are going to read something on wine it should inform, inspire and give you a damn good thirst for a glass.

Wine is this fascinating, complex product. It has been around for thousands of years, the rich have always drunk it, the poor have always drunk it, the victors and the defeatists, the intellectuals and the revolutionaries, wine has crossed every border and almost every culture; those it hasn’t reached yet, it will in times to come. To get stuck on “wafts of vanilla with firm tannins and elegant structure”, is like reading and watching 1000’s of pitch reports at the start of a cricket match, but never seeing the game..

The Official Route

Today, it seems, there is only one real official wine course to do in this country. It is run by the person who happened to pour me those four different pinotages that sparked my life in wine, Cathy Marston, and it is the only internationally recognized wine qualification being handed out in South Africa today. Cathy’s WSET courses are the business if you are serious about studying wine.

I will not say a bad word about any other small courses, informal or formal, but if you are going to study wine ‘seriously’ it’s better to go with something that is internationally recognized. On top of that, Cathy is a great teacher.

That’s all folks. Remember that wine is just a drink. A brilliant drink, a fascinating, complex drink, a drink that seems at times to be so much more than just a thirst quencher; but essentially it is just that, a thirst quencher with a bit of fun thrown in.

In the name of Bacchus, I wish you good drinking.

Wine Cellar (Cape Town & Joburg)

My favourite wine shop in the country Wine Cellar ‘s a arilliant importer of superb international wines and have a great selection of top South African releases. They also hold some of the best tastings about, and as an added bonus, they will also cellar your wine for you.

Also, they know their shit.

Tel: 021 448 4105
http://www.winecellar.co.za/
@winecellarRSA
@WineCellarJHB

Wine Books

  • A Life Uncorked by Hugh Johnson
  • The Story of Wine by Hugh Johnson
  • Grapes and Wines by Oz Clarke
  • Champagne by Don and Petie Kladstrup

Honestly, if you read just these books, you are well on your way to becoming a wine expert (along with copious amounts of wine, of course)

Wine Tastings

Wine Cellar is great in Cape Town and Jo’burg. In Durban talk to Nkulu (@nkulu81) he’s the new wine kid in the 031. (Sorry I can’t give more. Can’t endorse things I have not done myself)

Wine Courses

There are lots of small formal and informal courses about. None of them are bad. But if you are serious: The WEST courses by Cathy Marston.


Harry.


Thursday, April 25, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 7 of 8: Taking back some wine words!

Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Seven: Taking back some wine words!



This week I am going to see if we can take back some wine words from the high-flying, supposedly pretentious, wine elite. Some of these words may have been banned on Real Time Wine at the outset, but I think they are useful, and illuminating. Well, they are only illuminating if explained. Like academics who can string together whole sentences of what looks like gobble-dee-gook and get a PhD out of it, wine writers can sometimes fall into the trap of talking about malolactic fermentation, aldehydes, balling, barriques and sulfites in a way that makes wine feel less like a rather nifty beverage, and more like science homework you’d rather not do. 

Terroir
Oh sod that, I’m not starting with bloody terroir.

Malolactic fermentation
In English this sounds horrid, I far prefer the French abbreviation, ‘le malo’. It’s a chemical process that occurs after a wine has gone through its initial alcoholic fermentation. Stronger Malic Acid is converted into Lactic acid. This is desirable in wines that have excessive acidity after fermentation. If a winemaker feels she doesn’t want to reduce the acidity by this process she will have to protect the wine from going through it naturally later in bottle. If you find a wine that is bubbly when it shouldn’t be, most likely it’s le malo. This is a fault and the wine should be sent back from whence it came.

Biodynamics
A somewhat controversial farming technique. Based on the writings of Rudolph Steiner (1861-1925) biodynamic farmers emphasize the importance of working with the movements of the planets and cosmic forces to achieve balance in the soils and vines. The viticulture is pretty much organic, but also employs natural herbal, mineral and organic preparations in the soil. An example of one of these consists of burying a cow horn filled with dung in the vineyard over winter. While many mock and assume these winemakers are high, have dreadlocks and enjoy trance parties, the results are out there. Locally, Reyneke is the best-known biodynamic producer, and they make ridiculously good wine.

Acidification (if you think it’s bad)
Acid Adjustment (if you think it’s OK)
Simply, this is the adding of acid (generally tartaric or citric acid) to grape juice, must or wine. It will usually happen in warmer climates where there is not enough natural acidity in the grapes to achieve a balanced final product. A healthy amount of acid in wine is good; it promotes freshness and fruitness, as well as protecting against bacteria, and improving colour. Depending on your tasting ability – and the heavy-handedness of acidification – you can taste the difference. The acidity in acidified wine seems to stand apart from the rest of wine, as opposed to wines with only natural acidity, where everything feels integrated. If anyone tells you South African wines have to have acid added, they are lying.  And you can tell them they should try out Biodynamics.

Balling
Despite its look and sound, this is not a South African word used by ruby playing winemakers to describe a really good wine. “Flip Jan, this wine is fokken balling!”

In fact it is a term used to denote a measurement of ripeness in grapes. Basically, 16.5 grams of sugar is needed to produce 1 percent of alcohol by fermentation. A balling reading indicates the percentage of solids in grape juice (remember 90% are sugars) by weight. So, if a winemaker is prattling on about a balling reading of 22 degrees, she means that the potential alcohol in the wine made from this juice will be around 12%, and a balling reading of 27 degrees will produce a wine with around 15% alcohol. Simple. You will most hear this term talking to winemakers who will tell you, “Ja, it was a lekker harvest, the grapes taste great, and we picked at around 24 balling.”

Champagne/Methode Cap Classique
Here is a hard and fast wine rule for you. If your sparkling wine is not made in Champagne, don’t call it champagne, because it is not. Simple.

We use the term Methode Cap Classique to indicate wine that’s been made in the traditional method (a secondary fermentation in bottle which produces all the lovely bubbles) rather than a soda stream method, which, just as it sounds, means injecting a still wine full of CO2. If you see Methode Cap Classique on a bottle you know it has been produced in the same method as the wines from Champagne, but is not, and never will be, Champagne.

Barrique
A French term for small oak barrels with a volume of 225l. First designed and used in Bordeaux, these are the most famous and most used oak barrels for wine production. South African wine marketers prefer this term over ‘small oak barrels’ because it makes their wines sound more French and sophisticated. The joke is on them, however, as they are more than likely producing over oaked, over-ripe wines that will last about as long as a Sunday afternoon.

Blind Tasting
Simply, tasting wines without knowing anything about them and then trying to guess what they are. A favourite game among wine nerds the world over. Much is said about sighted and blind tastings and the merits of both with relation to competitions and guidebooks. It is perhaps the most boring, stale, and over thought wine discussion in South Africa.

Blind tastings are a fun game to try with your friends, and can be vigorously educational if you care about such things. It is good for some competitions, and not as good for others. Case closed.

Phylloxera 
A small yellow root-feeding aphid that devastated the world’s vineyards in the late 1800s. It came from North America, and like most other unwanted American exports, spread rapidly. Thankfully, native American vine species have evolved with resistance to this little bastard. Today, by using American rootstocks – these resistant roots are grafted on to whatever variety of vine is needed – we are able to make wine without having to worry about this pest.  

Clones
Grape vines are rather prone to mutations. This means that you may have different vines of the same variety that are genetically different. Clones are cuttings taken from a mother vine – whose genetics are known – and sold to growers from a nursery. If you want to plant Chenin Blanc, you still have to choose which clone, as some will have shown to be better suited to your particular environment, or produce grapes with a desired characteristic.

Old Vines
You can spot how old a vine is by looking at its trunk, the wider the trunk the older the vine. Much is said about better quality wines being made from old-vines. Marketers love to drop ‘old vines’ into their pitch if they can, as if the age of the vine somehow magically imbues the wine with greatness. It doesn’t. Evidence seems to suggest that older vines do make better wines, but that just could be because it was always a good vine and there has been no reason to uproot it. Know one knows for certain yet, and there are no rules about having ‘old vines’ on a label.

Terroir
Oh dear, we are back here. Can’t avoid this bloody word. Like ‘old vines’ it’s used more to sell wines than to educate people about them. So be wary. That tomb of vinous knowledge, The Oxford Companion To Wine, succinctly describes terroir as “the total natural environment of any viticultural site”. It’s a quintessentially French term that suggests the complex interplay of soil, macroclimate, mesoclimate, vine microclimate and topography will be reflected in wines to some degree vintage to vintage, regardless of changing methods of viticulture and winemaking. Despite the fact the French had not conceived of anything so barbarous as coffee Pinotage when they coined the phrase, it is an immediately attractive idea.

Wine nerds are not satisfied with a great wine simply tasting fantastic, oh no, they want it to be able to taste where it’s from. It takes a very long time to work all this out – what should be planted where, and what the results are – it took the Burgundians (French folk, make a lot of Pinot Noir) 800 years, so if South African wine people start babbling at you about terroir, be careful, they are probably just trying to sell you something.

It is an important concept, one that should remain central to fine wine forever, but it is also woefully overused, and as such runs the risk of turning into one of those marvelous modern phrases like “genuine imitation” or “Money back guaranteed.”

Harry.


Thursday, April 18, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 6 of 8: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 2: Nurture



Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Six: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 2: Nurture



Wine. It’s a beautiful mysterious thing. All that is needed for it to come into being are grapes. Everything else, oak barrels, stainless steel tanks, temperature controlled cellars, fancy presses, micro-oxygenation and reverse-osmosis machines are all add-ons, extras and aids, none are needed to make wine.

A grape stands out among other fruits for the hefty amount of sugar in its juice; nearly 30% of juice in a ripe grape is made up of sugar. Sugar is the key, fermentation the lock, and yeast the hand that turns it.

Yeasts – whether those found in the cellar and vineyard, or those added by a winemaker – love sugar. It’s what they live for. As soon as the skin on a grape splits and the sugary juice seeps out, those voracious little buggers are at it. The by-product of all this sugar consumption by yeast is alcohol and carbon dioxide. This, simply, is fermentation. A seemingly straightforward chemical reaction that gives us our Syrahs and Chenins, our Sauvignon Blancs and Merlots, Ports and Sherries, Champagne, Ice-wine, Pinotages and Beaujolais; it creates, shapes and works its magic upon grape juice to give us the most diverse, enthralling and deeply satisfying beverage in the history of our species. Say a little prayer of thanks for fermentation before you go to bed tonight.

Fermentation stops when the sugar runs out and the yeasts die of starvation, or when the alcohol levels get too high and the yeasts basically get shozzled and pass out under the table. At this point you have a wine.

It’s really that simple. What’s difficult is ending up with one worth drinking, ageing, or selling.

A winemaker’s task is to gently take the grapes the vines have produced on an adventure from bunches on a vine through to bottled product. The better quality the grape, the less the winemaker should have to do.

For dry white wines the general modus operandi is to have the grapes sorted, and removed from the stalks once they arrive at the cellar. These partly crushed berries then find their way into a wine press. This can be as old-school as a basket with a hand-turned press, or the modern contraptions made up of a cylinder with a slowly inflating balloon that gently presses the grapes. Gentle presses force out the juice without breaking the pips that contain rather nasty tasting substances.

Now we have grape juice. This juice is run into any number of containers made of wood, fiberglass, stainless steel, or cement. The winemaker then decides whether to add cultured yeasts, or let the wild yeasts present in the vineyard and cellar do the work of fermentation. The benefits to the winemaker of adding specific, cultured yeasts are that the results are predictable, and she can choose a strain that emphasizes certain aromas and flavours. Native, wild yeasts are unpredictable, and will differ from year to year, but can give more complexity and interest to the wine.

Let’s leave our fermenting white wine, and take a look at how red wine gets to the same place.

When red grapes arrive at the cellar, the winemaker will also, generally, sort and de-stem the berries, before crushing them and moving the whole lot to fermentation vessels. This mix of skins, juice, and sometimes stalks, is called the must. It is neither grape juice nor wine.

It is this time in a red wine’s life that colour arrives. Colour in wine comes from the skins of grapes. And it is while the juice is mixed up with all the skins that colour leeches out. As fermentation is taking place in say, a big, open-topped, wooden vat, the carbon dioxide that is the other by-product of fermentation bubbles up through the must pushing all the skins to the top. This layer of skins is called a cap. The winemaker can now manage how much colour (and other goodies released from the skin) ends up in the wine by either regularly pouring the juice over the skins (pump-overs), or by pushing down the cap back into the juice (punch-downs).

Once the fermentation has been completed and the winemaker is happy with the amount of goodness that has been extracted from the skins, the wine is run off into vessels for maturation. The leftover skins are pressed, and this extra juice is called ‘press wine’ that is matured separately and used for blending later.

Still with me?

Right. So now we have dry red and white wine. The yeasts have eaten all the sugar, our fermentation has run smoothly to completion, and we have the right amount of colour, flavours and tannins from the skin in our red wine.

If the wine is going to be aged in barrel, this is time it gets transferred there. Oak barrels require an obsession and book of their own. Where the trees are planted, how old they are when cut down, how the oak is seasoned, and who makes the barrels all will have an effect on the wine that is stored in them.

Oak barrels do two main things. Firstly, as the wine ages inside them, there is a small exchange of gases through the pores of the oak. This softens the astringency of young wine, and reduces fresh primary flavours. New oak also adds flavour to wine, most noticeably, vanilla. The amount and types of flavours introduced to the wine depend on how old the barrel is, and how it was toasted. To make a wooden barrel, the oak must be bent into shape over a fire, the more fire treatment the wood receives the more toasted it is. The higher the toast of a barrel, the more dark roasted coffee, chocolate flavours it will give. Lighter toasted barrels will give more pronounced ‘oak’ flavours.

A new barrel will give off the most flavour as the oak and toast are fresh. For every vintage used the amount of flavours imparted will decrease until about fours years on when the barrels become pretty much neutral; although still useful for ageing wines where oak flavours are not desired.

The size of barrel also plays a role. The smaller the barrel the more wine there is in contact with wood, so the effect is more pronounced.

When the winemaker is happy that the wines have aged enough in barrel – from a few months to a few years – she will blend the wine. Even if the wine being made is made of a single variety, a blend of different barrels or tanks will be made. It’s part science and part painting; with each of the barrels available like colours on a palette playing different roles in the final product.

When the blend has been assembled the winemaker might filter the wine to ensure there are no nasties left that may affect its development. A final decision of whether to use cork or screw-cap is made (a debate for another day) before the marketing team try and sell the bloody stuff.

For every variety, and blended wine, each of these steps (and some that I have left out) must be handled differently. Should the grapes be fermented whole bunch? Should some grapes be co-fermented? What temperature will the fermentation happen at? Do acid or sugar need to be added?

Throughout all of this a winemaker should have a clear picture of the wine she wants to make, and use all the means at her disposal to gently guide what nature has given her to reflect this imagined wine. That’s one view.

Another view is that the wine maker’s job is to let nature decide what the wine should be like. Great wine is made in the vineyard, don’t you know. The idea is that perfect grapes, left pretty much alone, will end up being brilliant wine. The winemaker as more of a chaperone than artist.

Either way there is some nurturing going on, and just like with people, there is hardly any agreement on how it should be done. Apart from, of course, how the final product tastes.


Harry.



Thursday, April 11, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 5 of 8: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 1: Nature


Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Five: NATURE vs. NURTURE. Part 1: Nature

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All right folks, here we go. Knowledge time. Sit up straight, eyes to the front, “Kenneth! Stop sleeping”, pen and paper out, class begins.

The life of a wine from plant to glass is a complex story. Hugh Johnson, one of the greatest wine writers, puts it best:

The plot starts with vines insinuating their roots into the soils of a thousand different fields, feeding on what they encounter in the ground, rock, or sand, wet or dry, lean and hungry, or fat enough to grow marrows. It ends with the air in a glass rising to meet your nostrils and your mouth to leave an impression on your mind. The two are intimately, directly, inevitably linked –via a chain of events that can go this way or that in numberless, ceaseless variations. On some nano-scale of infinite variety everything is recorded. Like the wings of a butterfly in the rain-forest, a passing shower or a spore of fungus can tip a balance that eventually makes you decide to order another bottle – or not. 

For winemakers wanting to create quality wines, wines that you order another bottle of, they don’t want just any grapes. They long, come harvest time, for perfectly ripe, small berries. To achieve this perfection (which of course, this being wine, is not universally agreed upon, and will also depend on what type of wine is being made), the right varieties must be planted; the climate, and soils must be suitable for that variety; the vines must be managed correctly; and, each year the, ideal growing conditions met.

If all goes to plan (and it hardly ever does), the winemaker must take these precious, beautiful berries, and not screw up all these years of work with bad decisions in the cellar. Remember this winemaker’s saying, “you can make a shit wine from great grapes, but never a great wine from shit grapes.” Think of it as nature vs. nurture. Where nature is what happens in the vineyard, and nurture what goes on in the cellar. In this and the next chapter we are going to dip our little toes into these waters of nature and nurture, starting with nature.

The question we can try and limit ourselves to here is what is this perfect grape? It is, as usual, not entirely straight forward.

The berries of the grapevine contain pretty much everything needed to make wine: the sugars needed for fermentation, the acidity for balance and longevity, the pigments for colour, the tannins for structure and long-life, and the chemical compounds for complexity of flavour.  Everything that happens to the vine will have an effect on these components, and as a result effect the wine.

The species of vine we get our grapes from is called vitis vinifera, and each of the hundreds of different varieties of this species has its own quirks and traits. Some ripen earlier than others, some are more resistant to certain pests and so on, but for each of them the winemaker is hoping for optimally ripe grapes, and not too many of them

We all know what ripeness is. We know that a banana is ripe when it’s yellow, and unripe when it’s green. But is a little bit of green OK? What about when black spots start appearing, when is it too ripe? I have no idea; I hate bananas. The point is there is not an exact point of perfect ripeness. As grapes develop on a vine in summer and ripen into autumn, sugar levels increase. If it is too hot, for example, the sugar levels can rise to a point where the wine will end up having head banging levels of alcohol, but the grapes have not yet fully ripened, and – hat tip to Captain Obvious – have unripe flavours.

Many factors will contribute to the ripening of grapes, most obviously, climate. What vines need is a mild, wet winter, an early spring, a warm, dry summer without drought, and a late autumn, with even not-too-hot temperatures that allow for longer ‘hang-time’ on the vine, and more time for the grapes, stalks and seeds to ripen properly. Essentially you need the right balance of sugar and acidity, and no unripe flavours in the grapes.

Also important is how many grapes the vine produces. Think of a vine as having a limited capacity of flavour. If you have too many grapes on a vine, that amount of flavour will be split between all the grapes resulting in less intensity in the finished wine. However, our imagined ‘flavour capacity’ can be managed with modern viticultural techniques to allow for larger yields without compromising on quality.

One of the factors that influence the yields of a vine is the soil. Most agree that what is of greatest importance when it comes to soil is how much water it can hold. Vines, you see, need to struggle, but just a bit. Like people. Too much struggle and a person is want to give up, no hardship at all, and a person has a rather lopsided view of reality.

If vines have access to too much water they’ll drink and drink producing too many grapes, essentially diluting the wine. If there is too little water the vine will say, “no thanks, I’m off” and shut down, with photosynthesis and the ripening process coming to a halt.

Ideally, vines need well-drained soils that have just the right supply of water for whichever variety is planted in whatever climatic conditions. For example, areas with higher rainfall need soils with better drainage, and areas with lower rainfall need soils with better water retention. Irrigation is used to make up for a lack of water, but that presents another host of techniques, decisions and problems that we do not have space for today.

We have barely scratched the surface of – in fact we have merely stroked – what happens in the vineyard. How a vine is pruned in winter, the altitude of a vineyard, how the leaves or canopy are managed to foster or reduce photosynthesis, the density of plantings in a vineyard, and how pests and diseases are managed all contribute, to the ripeness and condition of the grapes, and logically to the final product in your glass. Each factor affects the others, meaning that every vineyard faces its own unique set of challenges. Making truly great wine is then, some sort of treacherous balancing act with the gods trying to trip you up at every turn. This is why there is more crap wine than good wine, really.

But just like we want balanced wine in our glass, the vineyard needs to be balanced and happy. Too much sun, too much rain, soil that is overly fertile, too many grapes, not enough grapes, all suggest imbalance, and as such, unbalanced wines.

This chapter was never going to make you a viticulturalist, or ensure that you pick better wines of the shelf, but rather to show the myriad of factors that inevitably contribute to that all important phrase, “waiter, another bottle please.”

Next week we will do the same, but this time fondle gently the topic of winemaking, and hopefully it will help make a little more sense of what was touched on in this chapter. You see, just like people, it is very difficult to separate nature and nurture.

Harry.



Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 4 of 8: Down with scores and up with drinking: Harry's kak en lekker scale of wine

Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Four: Down with scores and up with drinking: Harry's kak en lekker scale of wine

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Hopefully after the first three chapters we are all loving wine, drinking it more than ever, identifying differences, decanting, getting the temperature right, creating rituals, having a great time, laughing, drinking, popping corks with reckless abandon, and most of all fostering a great wealth of joie de vivre with wine at the centre. Too much to hope? Perhaps.

We are teetering on the edge of a diving board now. Below us is a pool of terms, varieties, winemaking techniques and more. We are bouncing on the board. Crouch, jump, thwack, crouch, jump, thwack. The board bends. But before we take this leap, I want us to pause and have a laugh, a laugh at the ridiculous world of wine scores, medals, and competitions.

Maybe you haven’t come across them yet, but if you drink wine for long enough, you will. I find them all too silly. Useful to some, I guess, but really just marketing schmaltz.

Assessing wine is part of the fun. We do it every time we taste and start looking for difference, and then work out whether we like it or not. But do we really need to drink in a world filled with scores out of 20, scores out of 100, bronze, silver and gold medals, a world, in my opinion that takes us further from enjoyment and closer to vanity.

The best wines made cannot be scored, and the worst do not need to be. So why do we do it? Why is the world obsessed with gold medals, trophies and 100 point wines?

Because wine is drunk over time – either a case of wine drunk a bottle at a time over years to observe the magic of maturation, or a bottle over a few days – the momentary snap judgment that a score or a medal reveals is problematic. A judge giving a quick score to a one wine among as many as a hundred.

What does a 96 point wine mean, really? Or a Double gold medal? It certainly does not mean you will enjoy it. These scores are generally given in an environment that is fundamentally different from the context in which the wine will be enjoyed. And while they do offer a rough guideline, help to the stranded and helpless supermarket shopper, they will never ever be a replacement for personal exploration and investigation.

Wine, at its most sublime and most excellent comes closer to art than mere utilitarian beverage. Do we score Picasso? Does Dali get an 89/100 or 93/100 for The Persistence of Memory? Do we assess paintings by writing down a list of the different colours used in the painting? No, so why do we do this with wine? Why do people all over the world insist on writing a list of wine flavours, and assigning a score out of a hundred? How does this help us enjoy wine?

Scores are a means of broadly placing wines into categories of quality. The best use for these descriptions and scores is a personal one. For you to keep track of the wines you drink and what you think of them. So if you have the bottle again in the future you can go back and see if your experience is different.

You can even make up your own scale, or just use mine. I give you,

Harry’s Kak en Lekker Scale of Wine. 

Fokken Kak

Broken, faulty, disgusting, even bergies and students will not drink it.

Kak

Drunk happily by alcoholics, students and people with no sense of smell. Served at cheese and wines evenings where the only cheese is Pick n’ Pay Cheddar, and the goal is inebriation. Not just cheap and nasty wines are Kak; pricey wines can have teeth shattering tannins, reflux causing acidity, and splinters-in-your -tongue oak, and that could mean they are Kak.

Lekker Kak

You swallow it without fighting or gagging, but it is forgettable. It’s as interesting as Top Billing and about as much fun as a school outing to a paper-clip factory – inconceivably boring, but at least you are not at school. Don’t serve it to me.

Lekker

You can finish a bottle yourself. There are different elements working in your nose and mouth. Effort has gone into this wine’s creation. You are not embarrassed when opening it at a dinner, and if your friends are used to Lekker Kak wines they will comment on how ‘lovely’ it is. Basically this wine has elements of complexity, deliciousness, balance, and interestingness, but not really that memorable.

Fokken Lekker

Bearing your stained teeth to the world with pride, this is a wine that makes you smile. It is a Lekker wine, but well read, better looking, more wit and class, added flair and nuance; at its worst you happily sip away, at best you cradle it in your arms and whisper to it as you nurse it slowly to the end.

Kak Lekker

More complex than Boolean algebra, more layers than a Coetzee novel, with a colour that would make Rothko smile, all coming together with the balance and harmony of a Brahms symphony, a Tom Curran front-side barrel, or a Hashim Amla cover drive; a gobsmackingly orgasmically good wine.

Fokken Kak Lekker

Not sure if this is possible. I haven’t tasted one, but when I do I’ll probably weep.

OK, so I originally wrote that somewhat satirically. The point of this chapter was to hopefully spur you on to independence. Don’t rely on labels, stickers and scores. Don’t let your palate be influenced by an 18/20 score, two gold medals, or somebody shouting at you that this is “THE BEST DAMMNED PINOT IN THE COUNTRY”.

Critic’s descriptions and scores, competition medals and Platter stars can be useful, but they are very far from absolutes. Use them only as a rough guide. Before we take that dive into vinous knowledge you need to start trusting your own palate, tasting as much as you possibly can all the time, and working out your scale, justifying it along the way. Down with scores, and up with drinking.

Harry.


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 3 of 8: Drinking Smarter


Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Three: Drinking Smarter

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So. Wine is fundamentally awesome and to get to that awesomeness we need to taste for difference. So far, so good.

We now hit a little snag in the road. All those differences you taste in wine are messages. They talk to you in a language we are always learning, about the weather the grape was grown in, tales of how the winemakers worked, and mayday signals alerting you to faults in the wine. To learn this language we need to enter into a labyrinth with no centre, a maze without end, we need to learn about vines, weather, grapes, winemaking techniques, oak forests, styles, chemistry, and biology.

We will make small forays down some of these paths in the weeks to come. For now let us sit down at the side of the path, with whatever knowledge we have, crack open a bottle, and talk about a few practical measures around wine imbibing.

Wine writer Andre Simon said there is one rule that needs to be remembered when enjoying wine: “The best wine is that which is the most suitable, hence the most pleasing at the time.”

With this elegant little dictum in mind, let us look at a few ways to make the wines in our glass more suitable.

Temperature

As a wine warms up the flavor compounds – who make their pilgrimage to the olfactory bulb – become more volatile, and easier for us to experience. Too cold and the wine is stripped of its aromas and flavours. Too hot and the alcohol starts evaporating at a rate which overwhelms everything else.

It is not just flavor compounds and alcohol that are affected by temperature. High tannins – the compounds in wine that dry out your mouth – are exacerbated by low temperatures, and wines that are sickly sweet can be made more refreshing by chilling.

You want to be drinking your wines in a temperature band between 18 degrees Celsius and a minimum of around 6.

Harry’s Rough Wine Temperature Guide: 

15-18 degrees Celsius
Your good, solid, tannic red wines should be served at this temperature. Think Cabernet Sauvignon and the rest of the Bordeaux brigade, Syrah/Shiraz, Pinotage etc.

12-16 Degrees Celsius
At this temperature you want to drink complex white wines like wooded Chardonnays, Chenins, and white blends. Aged whites would be best at around this temperature too. You could fit in serious Pinot Noirs here as well.

10-12 Degrees Celsius
If you open a cheap red wine that tastes a little kak, try it down at this temperature. Just as warmer wine lets good flavor compounds jump out of the glass, cooler wines mask the unattractive ones. Use this temperature for fresher, lighter reds and other white wines.

6-10 Degrees Celsius
At this chilly end of the thermometer we should be drinking sparkling wine – warm sparkling wine creates too much froth – sweet wines, flabby white wines, and rose. Also anything that still tastes kak at 10-12 degrees.

Here’s my tip: always err on the side of cold. It is very easy to warm a wine up in the glass; our African ambient temperature will do the job, and our grubby mitts the rest. However, a wine too warm can only be saved with ice, and while this is fine for something cheap by the pool, it’s not ideal to dilute something you have paid good money for.

Glassware

Context is everything. For some reason I derive great joy from drinking simple whites and reds out of tumblers. Serious wines deserve the chance to show their stuff, so thin glasses with a big enough bowl is best. Remember don’t fill up your glass. A third is good enough. You look less of a glutton, and it gives the aroma room for your nose to sniff up.

Those thick-lipped chunky wine glasses are the worst. They’re called goblets, and you have my permission to smash them all. Honestly, you are better off necking it from the bottle.

Decanting

There is a misguided belief that decanting – the pouring of wine from bottle into specially designed glass receptacles – is only for ridding older wines of their sediment. While this is the best way to avoid sediment in your glass, younger wines benefit even more from a good decanting.

The point of decanting young wines is for oxygen to work on the wine. Forget the science for now. Just think of a person sitting on a couch. Imagine them first sitting tensely, on the edge of the couch, all elbows and knees. Now imagine them leaning back into the couch, comfortable and at ease. Decanting wine is basically getting it to relax on a couch. Once decanted and relaxed the wine will present you with far more aromas and flavours.

Decanting is all about time, the younger and more tannic the wine the longer you need to decant. Experiment. Taste every hour or so to get an idea of how the oxygen is working.

You don’t need a fancy decanter; a glass vase is a good substitute.

Food

It matters less than everybody says. Eat, drink and be merry.

Ritual

Ritual is important in wine. Whether it is that little thudding pop as a cork is extracted, or the time you spend before dinner lovingly decanting the evening’s wines, or how you meet up with the same three friends each month to catch up over a bottle of wine.

Since the ancients we have included an element of ritual in our wine drinking. The Greeks had a spitting game called Kottabos, Christians and Jews have it tightly woven into their own religious rituals, and F1 drivers celebrate winning with champagne. Wine is made for ritual. Be aware of them, and develop your own.

Context

Where you drink your wine, who you drink it with and the attitude with which you drink it are more important than anything else. What else can explain the exquisite memory I have of an MCC drunk in a river with my lover even though it was a fifth full with river water, or dull flat experience of a great wine drunk amongst douche-bags? If you drink your wine with joie de vivre, you will drink better wine.

To round off out first four articles next week we will be looking at a few of the major grape varieties in South Africa and what to expect when drinking them.

Harry.


...

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 2 of 8: What the hell is in my glass?


Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter Two: What the hell is in my glass?

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I hope I convinced you in the first chapter of this series that the pursuit of sublime pleasure and blind drunkenness through wine is a worthwhile, and proper one. Better than a similar pursuit through spirits, beer, cider, or, god forbid, water. That being decided on, in this chapter I want to focus on the next very important step in loving wine, tasting and difference.

At University I drank cases and cases of Nederberg Baronne. When it was on special I carried out as much as my little bank account could bear. I glugged it heartily until I could not stand, and today have absolutely no idea what it tasted like.

The first flirtations, eyelash fluttering’s, and knowing glances of an affair with wine begin with your first real taste. Let me tell you how this happened for me.

It was at a small wine course. I was there due to the absence of a stationary salesman. Fortunately for me stranded in Bloemfontein over an eraser shortage, or was it a glut of sharpeners? I don’t know, but the end result was a mutual friend invited me to take his place.

That evening four small glasses, each about two fingers full of red wine, were poured for me. A new experience; I was used to a more linear style of drinking – four bottles one after the other was the norm, having them together a new idea entirely. It was to prove a revelation.

All the wines were made from Pinotage grapes, grown in Stellenbosch, and picked in the same vintage. I held up the first glass and giving it a jittery, unconfident swirl, lifted it to my nose. I took a deep sniff. I smelt . . . wine.

I took the next glass and repeated the swirl and brought it to my nose. Sniff: wine.

The third. Swirl. Sniff: wine. And the fourth. Swirl. Sniff: wine.

Then the revelation: they were all different.

I could no more describe the differences than I could write a Chinese rock opera. Each one smelt like wine, but different wine.

I reeled. What did this mean? Why the hell were they all so different? I went back to smell again, and taste. Like a person struggling to learn a new language, and with my tongue sticking out the corner of my mouth I tried to write down what I smelled and tasted.

Perhaps you have noticed I didn’t ask myself if I liked the wine or not? I was too interested in the whole ‘what the fuck, where fore, what too’ of it all. Knowing what you like is good, but you shouldn’t become blinded by it. Tastes are ephemeral. Like days in the middle of summer when the heat feels infinite, and a chilly winter morning is almost inconceivable. What you like now may feel concrete and sturdy, but it will change. When it does it will be like leaving the house on that freezing winter morning and wondering wistfully how summer vanished so quickly.

Wine is about difference, not preference. Preference is easy: you like something or you don’t. Difference is complicated, interesting, complex. So how do we go about finding the difference?

Harry’s quick guide to getting wine from the glass to your belly.

Into whatever clear receptacle you have chosen to drink out of, pour a little wine. Is it clear or cloudy? A dark, impenetrable purple, or a light brick red? Shiningly clear with a fleck of green, or a golden, glistening yellow?

Do not be concerned just yet as to the meanings of these colourful messages. First just look at them, and try to describe them.

Give your receptacle a swirl. When we talk about flavour we are really talking about aroma. It’s your nose – or rather the olfactory bulb - that does the hard work. The tongue is a relatively lazy organ that sticks to sweet, salty, sour and bitterness.  A wine’s aroma is made up of hundreds and thousands of different flavour compounds. So “the trick”, as the august Oxford Companion to Wine suggests, “is to persuade as many flavour compounds as possible to vaporize and come into contact with the olfactory bulb.”

Your swirling aids this vaporization. After you have swirled, this vaporized invisible cloud of aroma sits in the bowl of the glass – the reason why you have not filled it to the brim – ready for your nostrils to vacuum them up to that old factory bulb.

Now taste. Here is where the texture of the wine is felt. Acidity – which stimulates the saliva glands; tannins – that dry out your mouth; residual sugar which rounds and fattens the wine; viscosity – is the texture closer to water or honey? And alcohol – do you feel the warming glow of alcohol, or is it a rough, rasping heat?

Then you swallow or spit depending on your conditions and preference. Check to see how long the aromas, textures and flavours play out in your mouth. Do they disappear quickly like a jilted lover, or do they stay and develop, twist and change, leading you down the garden path, out the back gate to somewhere new?

This is where it all begins, and ends really. There is much more to learn about wine, but it inevitably leads back to this simple interaction.

Here’s the homework. Open four bottles of wine, all red or all white. Pour them out into four glasses, and go through this process. Don’t try to find which is the best wine, but all the ways in which they are different. Write these down. Be creative, free, and imaginative.

The hardest part of wine is talking about it. We are constrained by language. Mere words and phrases to discuss and communicate something that is wholly outside language. This is also, however, part of the fun.

Next week we are going to look at a few practical ways to make this process yield the best results.

Harry.


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Monday, March 11, 2013

Harry's Wine Guide | Chapter 1 of 8: Oh god more wine words, why?

Harry Haddon’s Incomplete And Unofficial Guide To The Hedonistic Pleasures Of The Grape

Chapter One: Oh god more wine words, why? (1 of 8)


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Welcome readers to the first in a series of articles on Real Time Wine. These articles are not trying to ‘convert’ you; they will definitely not turn you into a master of wine; and will absolutely not, under any circumstances tell you which wines you have to drink. The aim of this set of articles is to encourage, foster, or to be very web 2.0 about it, curate a love for wine, and to perhaps throw in a few tidbits of information along the way. Just so you know, they are written by someone who is convinced wine is the greatest beverage in the history of wo/mankind.

You may already be asking why. Why do we need more words on wine? Can’t you leave us alone and let us just drink the stuff? Do we have to listen to some poncey, big nosed bastard who is going to tell us about the flutteringly fleet-footed scent of an angels fart, offset only by the delicate flavour of cigar boxed, pencil shaved bullshit? In short: Because it’s awesome, of course you can, and I damn well hope not.

Why wine? Well for the last couple thousand years (earliest estimates see evidence for wine making at around 7000 BC) we have been drinking it. We have drunk it to escape our cruel and short lives, to grease our brain’s cogs and wheels, to liven up parties, to find inspiration, and to worship our gods. We have traded wine, made millions with wine, and lost it all with wine. We’ve made it sweet, drunk it sour, wrote books on it, fought for it, died for it, and we have drunk wine because, goddamnit, drinking it is awesome. Wine was at the start of civilization and it will be there, in whatever form, at the end.

So whether you like wine or not, wherever you are on this mortal coil, it’s not going anywhere
But here is the tricky bit, and one that frustrates me, and you I am sure, to no end. How did this wonderful liquid, rich in history, gain this horrible reputation: the more you know about it, the more likely you are to be a pretentious snob.

One answer is of course the price of wine. The brilliant 18th century author Goethe made the point, “The rich want good wine, the poor plenty of wine.” I’m poor, and I want plenty of good wine. So sod you, Goethe.

We know they are out there. Not the experts, necessarily, or the winemakers, but anyone who thinks wine is only for the initiated; those who sternly look down their hand-blown crystal stems at others mixing up their Syrahs and Cabernets; people whose only joy in wine is buying the most expensive bottle and showing it off; those who easily forget that wine is intrinsically about pleasure, sharing, and life.

The purpose of wine is to enjoy it, to quench your thirst, to inspire joie de vivre. As soon as that ceases, so should your drinking. For some this occurs at four in the morning with their heads over a porcelain bowl, for others it is when they start buying wine simply to impress.

But of course, like most things, the more you know the more enjoyable it becomes. Unless of course your sole aim is to get shit-faced; if that’s the case, then by all means carry on. You are not alone.
For me, drinking wine is like reading. We start with the simple and, if we like it, progress to more and more complex books, poems, manuals, textbooks etc.

When I first read Spot the Dog, I can remember the joy in understanding the words and finding out where the hell that bloody Spot was. How much pleasure would I receive from the book now? Little, but that original joy is what I look for every time I open a book. It’s harder to achieve now. Joyce’s Ulysses was and is a massive pain in the arse, but when I grasp a single chapter properly, the joy of recognizing the Irishman’s genius is just like finding Spot. Wine, I think, is similar.

It’s that progressive and escalating joy of vinous exploration. Seeing how your palate changes, how it doesn’t. It’s of little importance which wines you like, but the fun comes from finding out why you like it.

These articles, I hope, are going to help you work that out. We’ll cover that swirling and gargling wine is not just for snobs, how to best pick wines in the supermarket, and reclaim some terms reserved for wine geeks like ‘terroir’, ‘natural wine’, and ‘wine of origin’ to show how they are really practical and can make your wine drinking experience better. We will try to share tasting notes, and to think about wine a little differently, but most of all I want to celebrate the drinking of this wonderful, magical beverage. Wine is awesome, and you are awesome for drinking it.