In the Middle Ages, Gouais Blanc was one of the most widely planted white varieties in Northeast France (Burgundy, Champagne, Alsace and the Jura) and in central Europe. Pinot too was also widely planted, although it was laid into the favored sites (usually hillside, owned by the aristocracy and the church), whereas Gouais was planted on the less-desirable flatland, where it made serviceable wine at best. Its main feature as a wine grape is a high yield, and is generally characterized as a "rustic" or "peasant" varietal; indeed, the roots of the grape's name in both French and German (where it is known as Weißer Henuisch), are probably pejorative. Attempts were made to ban the grape outright several times, though it would be hard to say whether this is due to its unsuitability as a wine grape, a privileged class land grab, or merely to put arable land to more food production. Still, save for a few vineyard sites around the world and samples in research facilities, Gouais Blanc has almost completely disappeared.

But not before it also sired Riesling.

Selected tasting notes from our wine list of Gouais Blanc x Pinot crosses

François Cazin Cour-Cheverny 2007 (Romarantin)
Bright white floral nose, with notes of green vetch, talc and lemon oil. Crisp and acidic attack to the palate, rounds out slightly with salty, limey notes and a raw honey finish.

Chasseloir Muscadet "Cuvée Ceps Centenaires" 2003 (Melon)
From 100+ year old vines planted in Nantes, at the mouth of the Loire River. Shows the heat of the vintage, with leesy, brioche notes over the minerally, greengage plums in the nose. Ripe and round on the palate, but with good cut and salinity framing the granitic core.

Groffier Bourgogne Passetoutgrains 2007 (Pinot Noir-Gamay)
Groffier is a stellar estate, with holdings in 2 Grand Crus (Bonnes Mares and Chambertin-Clos de Bèze) and several 1er Cru Chambolles. This AOC allow for a blend of Pinot and Gamay, a rarity in Burgundy. A soft, open nose of bright cherries and raspberries balance against darker fruits, spice and a little bit of funk. Tart cherry entry, with mouthwatering acidity and some fine tannins on the long finish. We are currently pouring this by the glass.

The limestone soils are the short answer; they are the buried treasure. They brought Josh to Mt. Harlan and they contribute heavily to the quality and longevity of the wines. But there is more to the terroir of this site. There is altitude (an average of 2200 feet above sea level), which is crucial to tempering the intense heat found in this part of California. There is the clonal selection, or lack thereof, which adds to the Calera mystique. The clone is now called the Calera Clone, but it originated not as a clone, per se, but rather as cuttings brought over from Burgundy. Most of the vineyards have been planted from material pulled from the original plantings. This process, called Massale Selection, can bring greater diversity to the vineyard by allowing the vines to adapt to their site and then propagating them into new vineyards. (It is my understanding that vines are highly adaptive and can mutate slightly rather quickly.) It is a more organic form of diversity than planting selected clones. The rustic way in which this plant material was brought here left room for imperfections. Many of the vines show signs of virus. This is not exactly a good thing but not exactly a bad thing either. It falls in the realm of imperfection that may lead to something interesting. There is rootstock - or lack thereof. Some of the vines up here are planted on their own roots, including the Mills Vineyard. This is something that is rare in the wine world, although not as rare as I once thought. It leaves the vines susceptible to Phylloxera, but allows them to show their true colors. Some people liken it to tasting heirloom vegetables as compared to commercially bred and influenced varieties. There is the ecosystem. Being this high up and completely surrounded by forests is something very special. So many vineyards of the world are just one plot among many others. This is a closed system, and the isolation and purity of the site are palpable. There is the varied terrain and aspects. The vines are planted on every aspect imaginable. The mountain rolls and turns and rises steeply and then falls gradually, and everywhere there are vines. This site has personality to spare. Trying to translate all of the possibilities of these vineyards is like doing high-level math in your head. And upon reflection, it is perfect that Josh Jensen is the man who created it.

There is the winery to consider as well. Ideally and romantically every great wine is made in the vineyard. And a winery is a winery is a winery, but even this part of Calera is unique. It is an old limestone processing plant built into the side of the mountain. It takes gravity flow to a new level with 7 different tiers for receiving, fermenting, crushing, and storing plus two barrel levels and a bottling and storage level. The wines are generally whole cluster fermented with indigenous yeast. The building viewed from the parking lot has a sort of Mad Max utility to it. It is perfect.

I wanted to visit the vineyards on Mt. Harlan to get a visual and visceral idea of the Mills vineyard. I had just tasted through the vertical that we are offering at Nopa and the flavors and nuances were still fresh in my mind. I hoped to see the Mills Vineyard and have everything I was seeing click cleanly into place with everything that I had tasted. This did not occur exactly as planned. The Mills Vineyard does make more sense to me now. The gently south facing slope, the hills to the west, the creek bed at the bottom and the open aspect to the east - all of these things can be worked into the equation that is the Mills Pinot Noir. But the real epiphany was of a broader scope. It involved the personality of the Calera Wine Company as a whole and of the wines in general. The entire lineup makes more sense now - not just the individual personality of the different vineyards, but also of the company and the people behind it. No matter how many times I visit a winery or vineyards and feel this understanding blossom, it never ceases to amaze and enthrall me. It is proof to me over and over again that the most valuable and lasting thing a wine can offer is sense of place.

Scotch Whisky shelves are full of labels touting the used barrels that previously bore the whisky. 'Finished,' 'ACE'd,' 'Matured' - these words all used to imply luxury and added value. The story runs a quite a bit deeper than these talking points though, and is best couched in a little history lesson.

Great Britain's relationship with Sherry began in the early 15th century when Henry I started trading English wool for wine at great profit. The hot summers of Jerez allowed for very ripe grapes, which in turn, allowed for sweeter wines. These appealed to the English sweet tooth and the Sherry producers grew steadily and scaled up more quickly than the British Empire's distilleries, which remained essentially a cottage industry - at least until Sherry's first big downturn in late 1800s.

In Spain, estate bottling of wines didn't get going until the 19th century, so wine - and pretty much everything else for that matter - was moved around in barrels. Interestingly, Spanish barrels tended to made of American oak, the staves stacked and used as ballast in ships returning from the colonies, which were required to enter the Spanish realm through the Royal Ports in the Sherry region. These barrels, built of American oak, coopered and filled in Spain, began to stack up in Great Britain, which really didn't export much until the 1860s when the vine louse Phylloxera began to strike down the continental European wine industry. The producers in Jerez had a little bit of a buffer insofar as they were ravaged later than the more northerly regions and, by the very nature of their Solera aging systems, had stocks aplenty. In turn, these too were depleted.

Where does western culture turn when grape-based libations are next to impossible to come by? We turn to whisky. When one takes a survey of the founding dates of Scotch distilleries, one finds a striking pattern - between 1879 and 1899 (when Phylloxera is nearing its peak of destruction) over 35 distilleries opened in Scotland. All this new production needed to be put into something and Sherry barrels were the perfect thing.

Today in Jerez, we don't see a lot of extra empty barrels lying around (actually they pride themselves on how long they are able to keep their barrels in use), but we do see the plenty of barrels being conditioned with wine for the express purpose of holding whisky. This wine is not bottled, but sent to the stills to be made into fortifier. So, while maybe a little contrived but certainly not outside of the normal flows of commerce, the tradition of sherry-influenced whisky continues.

In celebration of this, we are featuring 10 special bottlings where the wine speaks through the malt. Try one and taste a little history.

Glenkinchie 1991 Distiller's Edition Amontillado Cask 43%

This is a Lowland, close to England, which means it is triple distilled. Not too peaty, no maritime influence and 3X in the still means light, gentle spirit without too many edges. Closer to Irish Whisky than most other Scotch. The sherry cask gives it some weight that is not present in the original.

Macallan 1991 Murray McDavid Bottling 46%

Think of this one as a barrel saved from fate. Standard Macallan (Speyside) is chill-filtered and caramel-colored. M McD simply pulled a barrel from that program and bottled it whole.

Glenmorangie "La Santa" Oloroso Cask 46%

Glenmo is the most progressive of the big brands. This Highland is the best selling Malt in Scotland because it is clean, sweet and balanced. Not overly anything, also not super-distinctive. A very easy, entry-level Scotch.

Oban 1993 Distiller's Edition Montilla Fino Cask 43%

The slightest whiff of sea air, but not briny. Oban is described as being caught between the sea (salt) and the mountains (sweet) which is apt, because that happens to be where it is situated on the west side of Scotland. The inherent sweetness of the Malt pairs well with the dry acid of the Fino barrel, very complex, lots to think about.

Talisker 1996 Distiller's Edition Amoroso Cask 46%

Talisker is from the isle of Skye, but the sea influence tends to be clouded by peat. The sherry that was in the barrel was sweetened with PX and that fruit shows up here (figs and raisins) along with a touch of bitter chocolate. Seriously cool whisky.

Bruichladdich 1998 Manzanilla Cask 46%

Laddie's are all pears and cloves when they are born, hardly any peat at all. This makes them perfect for barrel-play. The butteriness of Manzanilla shows, not much of the acid.

Bruichladdich 1998 Oloroso Cask 46%

So different from the sister-barrel, sturdier, bigger, and full of walnuts and hazelnuts.

Bunnahabhain 18 yr. Manzanilla Cask 43%

Kettle corn...in all the right ways. Very salty, sweet maltiness that is the base. Bunnahabhain is buttered up by the Manzanilla.

Port Charlotte 7 yr. Bourbon and Sherry Casks 61%

Super peaty, super clean. Very young and flashy.

Lagavulin 1991 Distiller's Edition Pedro Ximenez 46%

The heaviest hitter here. Lagavulin is heavily peated then tempered with good age and sweet PX, dessert for sure.

Update: A number of these Scotches remain available, please check with your server.

There it was again, being poured in a glossy, two page Saveur spread - at Joël Robuchon's Las Vegas outpost, on the top of their list of "12 Restaurants That Matter."

There is was again, in Matt Kramer's column in The Oregonian, where he noted the variety is the same as Txakolina's Hondarribi Zuri. Other sources indicate that it is an included, but separate variety from Hondarribi. In any case, it's a lot of Pacherenc.

The appellation is in the South West part of France, centered around the village of Madiran in Gascony. The AOC (Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée) is only for white wines, although it shares the same geographic boundaries as the Madiran AOC, which is solely red wines. Petits Corbu and Manseng are the main varieties, with Gros Manseng and others playing supporting roles. The area has had few champions, but Brumont has brought a gush of attention to the wines of the South West, largely with the careful vineyard and cellar methods he learned in Bordeaux. Robert Parker and Steven Tanzer have both anointed Brumont as one of their top 10 French Estates, while Decanter equated the property with Château Latour. Heady praise indeed, especially for these modest, "local" varieties.

We currently have Brumont's 2007 Pacherenc du Vic-Bihl Sec on the list, for $36. It shows a lifted nose of pineapple, peaches, raw honey and lemon. On the palate, pineapple and ripe green melons dominate. Medium rich, with a lemon squirt of acidity to keep it fresh. The previous vintage was more oily and dense, which may happen here with time. Sprightly enough to pair with our lighter appetizers, it also marries well with our Rotisserie Herbed Chicken or Pan Roasted Black Cod.

If you are in a red mood, we are currently pouring the 2007 Madiran "Erigone" from Domaine Laffont. The cuvée here is 80% Tannat and 20% Cabernet Franc, and remains lively, delicate and floral despite the intense (but silky!) tannins. $10 a glass.

I've also recently tried Brumont's 2007 Côtes du Gascogne, which is a blend of Gros Manseng and Sauvignon Blanc - it's brighter, a little spritzier, but carries a similar melon/citrus/stonefruit profile, albeit on a slightly leaner frame.

Movia is Ales Kristancic.  He is a dynamic figure well known by much of the wine world, especially here in San Francisco where he is a regular visitor.  He is a Tazmanian Devil of a spokesperson for biodynamics and natural winemaking.  His energy is contagious and his positivism incredible.  I have personally seen him achieve the near impossible through sheer positive will.  We will be pouring the Lunar by the glass during Natural Wine Week.  This is a wine that started as an experiment to see just how naturally wine can be made.  Naturally as in let nature make it.  He touches the grapes only twice, once to cut them from the vine and then later to bottle the wine.  The grapes are put into special barrels with openings that mimic the ratio of the opening of a grape to its interior space.  They are left to ferment on the skins until the wine is complete.  It is then drawn off and put into bottle.  It doesn’t get more natural than that.  Like the Chardonnay from NPA, the skin contact protects the wine and alleviates the need for sulfur or other treatments.  The grape here, Ribolla Gialla, is actually a rather tannic grape, so this ‘white’ wine has a decent amount of tannin.  It is a very cool wine and a rare opportunity to be able to pour it by the glass.

http://sfnaturalwineweek.wordpress.com

P.S.  Anybody know where the picture is from?

Two bottles from the Islay (pronounced 'eye-la') released this year are redefining our idea of peat and of what is possible in a bottle of Whisky. I have dubbed both the Ardbeg Supernova and the Octomore from Bruichladdich as 'over-peat' whiskies due to incredible levels of flavor they both achieve. In Scotch, the 'peat' flavor is a result of malted barley being dried with heat from a peat fire - peat being a dried brick of dense roots cut from a layer that gets compressed under fields of grass in boggy areas. Think layers and layers of turf pressed together over time. Burning peat is a very evocative smell and the smoke permeates the grain which then shows up in the spirit distilled from it. We measure the level of peat in terms of the phenols (oils esentially) that show up in the finished product. This measurement is counted in parts per million or PPM. To set the stage for the over-peats let's look at the range found in more standard bottles. At the low end, Bruichladdich is barely peated at all, falling somewhere between 3 and 5 PPM phenol. In the middle range, Bowmore is peated somewhere around 12 PPM. Until now, the biggest dog in this yard was the standard Ardbeg at 43-45 PPM phenol. So the range was 3 PPM to 45 PPM.

Both of these new bottles are clocking in at over 100 PPM, the Octomore at 131 PPM, a full 3 times highest level available just last year.
The Octomore came to us first and is frankly, a little more dear to me as a result of shear nepotism (that pic is me expressing my love on a barrel of Octomore) resulting from my time at the Bruichladdich Whisky Academy. I know from first-hand experience that the Ocotmore was aged in first fill bourbon barrels from Buffalo Trace, but at five years old, they don't show much. This is a study in peat and grain, period.

The Supernova drinks like it is a bit older. I have no proof of this as there is no age statement, but is seems a bit more relaxed than the younger Ardbegs I tasted at the distillery a few years ago. It too is quite a ride though and offers quite a bang-for-the-buck.

I don't want to get too far into reviewing these bottles as they are incredibly complicated and clearly are not for everyone. However, I challenge any of you that profess to enjoy peaty whisky to give one of these a shot.

On a frigid and wind-whipped December day, we slowly wound our way to the vineyard and winery 2,100 feet up in the Mount Veeder appellation, a diverse and sparsely commercialized AVA on the Southwesten edge of the valley. Just over a thousand acres of land are under vine throughout, merely a fraction of the 15,000 acres within its boundaries. The more southerly portion shares a cooling marine aspect with Carneros, while the north is warmer, more like the up-valley climes. Elevations are wide-ranging also, from a mere 450 feet above sea level, to 2,500 at the topmost. Sky is near the top of Mount Veeder - in both elevation and latitude - and after a harrowing climb, we came to the amphitheater shaped site.

We park overlooking the oldest vines, planted in 1972, their gnarled and twisted Goblet-trained trunks ready for winter pruning, canes sprouting menacingly from every direction, and a few lingering and raisinated bunches of Zinfandel grapes hanging above the wild grasses and rocky volcanic soil. The newer vines on our right were more orderly, but the sense remained that this was not a manicured estate whose main traffic was in tourism. In the early part of last century, this plot actually was part of a mountain resort, and old stagecoach trails still traverse the property. These days however, the 14 acres site is more spartan and utilitarian, with hardly more than the winery (née barn), chicken coop and the cobbled-together homestead sharing space with the vineyard. A solar panel array is the single nod to technology, and keeps the winery off the grid.

We meet Lore Olds, owner and winemaker, in the studio where he carves the block prints that adorn each label, and after introductions, head down to taste the wines from barrel. Within minutes, nearly all the other people involved in this family operation have joined us, and it's scarcely more than a handful. A quick tour of the dry- and sustainably-farmed vineyard is cut short by the icy wind; passing the hand press, in use since early last century, we huddle instead inside the winery for an informal tasting, dipping the thief into barrels of Syrah, Zin and a single barrel of Rosé.

The Syrah was new to me, having only been planted in 2000 - the young vines have turned out a deft interpretation of the grape with pure, fresh fruit, with strong floral and mineral undertones and fine tannins. It's also a good setup for tasting the Zin. Out of barrel, it shows a lot in common to the 2005 we have on the list at nopa: fresh pure fruit flavors in a flatteringly rustic style, laced with briary, herby notes. On the palate, it shows soft red fruits leading to silky tannins. Despite its mountainous heritage, it's clearly made in a classic, food-friendly style, light on the extract and alcohol. And the Rosé? We took a couple carafes back to the house to enjoy with a picnic lunch in front of the woodburning stove which was stoked relentlessly to drive the chill out of our bones.

For more information, please vist their website.

We do a disservice to both the wine and the people making it when we treat wine as simply a collection of statistics. One of my importers told me a story about a newly successful winemaker. This winemaker was the new darling of all the critics. His wines suddenly sold out and were all allocated and impossible to get. His financial future was assured. It would seem that he had arrived, that he was successful. So when this importer arrived at the domaine in France he was surprised to find the winemaker sullen and testy. "What is the matter?" asked the importer. "Your wines are a huge success! Everyone wants to buy them! I can't keep them in stock." "Yes," he said. "Everyone now wants to taste my wine - taste it and spit it into buckets. This breaks my heart. I make wine to drink, not to spit into buckets."

I think it would behoove all of us to turn our brains off once in a while and tune in with our souls. Stop looking for the airbrushed model of perfection. Stop considering every flaw to be fatal. Start appreciating wine for the simple pleasure it can bring. Begin to taste with your being - how does the wine make you feel? Is it pleasurable? And God forbid we worry about whether the person who is supposed to know more than us about wine likes it or not. Wine is sensual, wine is art, wine is food. Wine is expression - of the vineyard, of the year, of the winemaker. Judge less, drink more.

One of the wines that I have had fun with recently is the 2007 St. Magdalener from Georg Mumelter at Griesbauerhof in the Alto Adige. A lot of words, I know. It is made up mostly of Schiava with a little Lagrein added in. It is light and fresh. It has just the right balance of fruit, earth, herbs, acid and tannin. It is the kind of wine you could never imagine lying to you. It is a joy to drink and goes with all sorts of food. It was spot on for black cod with lentils and chicories at our Complete the Circle Lunch at Nopa. Oliver McCrum, the man responsible for bringing it into the United States, calls it the Beaujolais of Italy. We sell it for $31. So far it has been mostly consumed by wine people, which makes me happy.

And then there is Beaujolais proper. Gamay is one of my favorite under-appreciated grape varieties. It may not be capable of the depth, complexity and flash of the noble Pinot Noir, but it is also far less guilty of soullessness. Rarely do the winemakers in Beaujolais try and force Gamay to be something that it is not. And while they sometimes err on the side of playfulness and fruitiness, with carbonic maceration for example, I find this less offensive than erring on the side of false nobility, wrapping the wine in furs and adorning it with diamonds and gold by using too much new oak and over-extracting or picking too ripe and watering back. Choose any well-regarded producer and try the entry level villages wine and also one of the cru wines. Paul Janin or Domaine du Vissoux for example. Nothing that these two producers make is expensive and everything I have ever tasted from either of them has been delicious and fun to drink.

And finally there is the 2004 Primofiore from Giuseppe Quintarelli in the Veneto. This wine is fantastic. It is complex and deep and full bodied in flavor yet light in texture. It seems to affect your mouth and soul in dozens of ways yet never really treads upon it. It passes over like a ghost and leaves you with lingering memories and flavors. This wine will cost you a little more, but Quintarelli seems to be able to pack twice as much flavor and fun into each bottle, so it truly is worth every penny.

Before or after a meal sherry is divine, and truly the most underrated beverage in the wine world. During a meal, with food, it is so undiscovered and underutilized that it can't even be considered underrated. It is simply forgotten (here in the U.S., that is.)

What makes it so great with food? Well, for starters, the range is so vast. To say that sherry is good with food is nearly akin to saying that wine is good with food. Sherry can be light, crisp, fresh, and white or it can be thick, black, unctuous, and sweet with a number of styles in between.

The lightest and most delicate sherries are the fino and manzanilla. The latter is actually a subset of the former, but let's avoid details. These are light, crisp, salty, bone-dry wines that are fantastic with seafood and light dishes.

They are born and bred ocean-side. As both vines and wine they breathe salty air. The sea is in their blood, one might say, and this kinship with food from the sea is undeniable when paired with dishes such as clams braised in manzanilla with olive oil, parsley, and garlic or shrimp quickly sauteed in olive oil loaded with garlic and some red chili. Slices of Serrano ham or grilled vegetables are equally as great. Because these sherries are the most delicate, they are also the most important to buy from good shops where they won't sit on the shelves for years and years. Two labels to try are "La Gitana" from Hidalgo and "La Cigarrera" from the eponymous label.

Amontillado, palo cortado and oloroso are the next styles. (The first two are actually aged finos, but again, trying to avoid too many details.) These sherries are more robust, rich, and complex. They have a flavor profile that is nutty, earthy, and a little bit sweet up front with hints of caramel and caramelized fruit as well as dried fruits, yet they are sharp, dry, and very long on the finish. They match up with everything from salads with dried fruits and nuts to braised pork belly to vegetable stews to heavy soups to rich meat stews. Their versatility is truly amazing.

Emilio Lustau is a good producer to look for, he produces a wide range of sherry and also bottles some special artisan wines under Almanecista labels, plus he is widely distributed and easy to find. For a special treat, try to find one of the Vinos Viejos (old wine) bottlings of El Maestro Sierra, these will NOT be cheap, but the character and length of these wines is extraordinary. They are the type of wines that cause complete silence upon tasting and dominate discussion for hours, or days, afterwards.

Moving on in richness and also sweetness, we have sweet olorosos, or cream sherries, and Pedro Ximenez. These wines are more rich, caramelized, and nutty and the finish is sweet. They are excellent with dessert, or for dessert. A sweet oloroso or cream sherry with a sticky toffee pudding cake, like the one currently on the NOPA dessert menu, is delightful. Pure Pedro Ximenez looks like motor oil in a bottle and is intensely sweet and is perhaps best simply poured over vanilla ice cream.

Two things to note in conclusion: one, I have avoided the details here for lack of space, but for me, sherry is in the details. The laborious production, the specific climates, the history and culture that are as intertwined and as complex as the flavors themselves - this is where the magical transformation from a beverage to a soulful experience occurs. And two, sherry is the single best value wine in the world, period.