Like a merciful bit of payback for the awful heatwave(s!) we’ve been experiencing in New York this month, I was rewarded this week with the wine world version of the perfect storm – one of those nights when everything just comes together. The venue: Apiary, a cool little restaurant in the East Village that has a brilliant little tradition – no corkage Mondays. Which means that on Monday nights, the place turns into a bit of a crossroads where wine industry veterans cross paths with tasting groups, cork dorks and other variations of the wine-obsessed, all vying for seats in a place that is packed to the gills.
On this night, I am dining with a group that, excluding me, could be described as Young Turks and Turkettes of the wine trade – a gang of bright young folks spanning the wine retail, distribution and wine bar channels of NYC. Future captains of the industry to be sure, but in this crowd, we are among the less laden with disposable income – but we have enthusiasm and some smartly chosen bottles on our side.
As we settle into our table, the first winds of the stormy wine adventure start blowing. For lo and behold, sitting at the next table is my friend Suzanne from the wine bulletin board community Wine Berserkers and a blind tasting group I’m in. We greet each other, exchange pleasantries, I ask what they’re drinking. Next thing I know, I’m being asked for my glass, and it comes back filled with burgundy. Not just any burgundy – Grand Cru burgundy. My oh my, my favorite region, and suffice it to say, drinking at the grand cru level is a rare treat for me.
Our generous neighbors have poured me a beautiful wine, a 1995 Dujac Charmes Chambertin. I smell, I swoon, I pass the glass around the table. We
are off to a fantastic start.
We hand our bottles over to our server to have the corks pulled. It’s a nice lineup: Movia Lunar and ’99 Chateau Musar for the whites, and the reds include a Chamonard Morgon, ’07 Vincent Girardin Clos Renardes (more Burgundy!), a Cotes de Provence wine I’m not familiar with called Nowat, and my bottle, which I have covered for everyone’s blind tasting pleasure.
As we’re perusing our menus trying to make decisions, our neighbors have a wonderful surprise for us – they’re leaving us the wines they haven’t finished. One of the best things about having wine as a passion is the terrific generosity of wine enthusiasts – and tonight, my friends from the next table are flooring me: we get tastes of the Dujac, a 1990 Fougeray Bonnes Mares, and a healthy amount of 1991 Camille Giroud Echezeaux. Our impromptu wine dinner has gained some serious heavyweight firepower. The wines are wonderful.
As we our appetizers arrive, I’m enjoying the Movia Lunar – a true wine geek wine. It’s from a producer in Slovenia (just across the Italian border), made with noninterventionist techniques, it’s unfiltered and cloudy, and it’s made from a grape I can’t pronounce or spell without help. (It’s not that bad really – ribolla gialla) It’s somewhat reminiscent of the Gravner I had from my March 10 Tasting for the Ages- a little bit golden-orange colored, in an artisanal and unusual style, and it’s genius when paired with the yummy grilled octopus turned out from Chef Scott Bryan’s (formerly of Veritas) kitchen.
Next is the Chamonard Morgon, which shows as young, dense and somewhat tannic compared to the burgundies from before (unfair to put a humble cru beaujolais right after some Cotes de Nuits grands crus, I admit, but sometimes adjustments must be made!), but is a very nice drink in its own right. I move on to the V. Girardin Clos Renardes, and it’s just lovely. The nose shows vibrant sweet fruit and some present oak, and the sum total is a wine that I could just smell all night and be happy. It’s a perfect match for the superlative Peking Duck breast with turnips and escarole. (The sweetbreads that I had a bite of are also out of this world). At some point we remember that we have the ’99 Musar blanc on ice, and it’s time to try it. Like the Movia, this is a trendy wine revered in circles of wine nerdery – from a region unfamiliar to most (Lebanon) with an oxidative style that is a unique beacon calling to those seeking refuge from oceans of nondescript “internationally-styled” wines.
We move on to the blind bottle, which I expect everyone to nail fairly easily given that it’s easily the most straight-laced choice among the wines brought by our group tonight (I was meeting most of the group for the first time, so I was playing it safe). Many of the guesses involve bits that are right on, but to my amazement, nobody ever mentions the correct region even though it’s one of the biggies. I turn everyone’s thinking upside down when I tell them it’s Bordeaux. To be fair, it’s from an atypically ripe vintage, 2003, that could well lead one to think it’s New World. And there were definitely some who guessed other Old World regions, and the 2003 vintage. To my relief, everyone seems to agree that it was a tasty wine, before the reveal that it is 2003 Domaine de Chevalier rouge, from Pessac-Leognan. But considering that a group as knowledgeable as this one didn’t guess it, maybe there *is* something to Eric Asimov’s contention that the young don’t drink Bordeaux?
More perfect storm clouds on the horizon: I see Josh, another blind tasting club buddy, getting up from a table across the room and go over to say hi. I swear, Apiary is like the wine fraternity frat house. After we catch up for a few minutes, Josh and his gang generously offer their leftover wines too. I thank them for their generosity, not quite realizing that the first bottle I turn around is going to have the familiar Shafer label on it, with tiny print that says”1993″ and “HILLSIDE SELECT”. Geez. And the next bottle: 1997 Pahlmeyer. Seriously? How great are my friends on this evening?
My first taste of Shafer HSS ever does not disappoint – it’s got a slight alcoholic high-toned thing going on on the nose, but the palate holds forth mature notes of black olive, tobacco leaf and a bit of spice. There’s nice elegance, nuance and dimension there. The Pahlmeyer is younger and shows that way, with more power that I find a bit more monolithic.
We wrap up with cheeses, blackberry financiers, a lovely dessert wine, a Kracher #7 TBA (trockenbeerenauslese) from Austria (which shows beautiful dimension, with flavors of caramel and honey but never going over the top in sweetness) and a round of an excellent beer (didn’t catch the name) courtesy of Brett, the sommelier, who we’ve been tasting with and blind guessing with (be sure to offer the restaurant staff some tastes of your wine if they’re offering you free corkage!) throughout the evening.
Of course, the only way to wrap up this post is to thank all those who contributed to the wine version of the perfect storm. First, to Suzanne, Paul, David, Bill, Josh and your other tablemates: thanks so much for sharing your wines with us. You guys have already left the restaurant by the time we taste them, but you don’t know how much it means to us. Our group is as passionate about wine as they come, but I think I can speak for the whole group in saying we don’t get to drink the kind of wines you shared with us very often, and the experience you’ve helped us gain will pay many dividends going forward. I can’t express how grateful I am, and I hope you’ll let me return the favor when we raise glasses together next. To Brett, thanks for taking care of us and the nightcap round; and to my tablemates, thanks for the great company – the start of a new tasting group? (And P.S. Morgan, did you buy the Kracher for the table? I realized after that our bill could not have included that. Dude, you are owed.) Can’t wait for the next one! Cheers! -Alan
