DRINK LOCAL, NEW YORK!

I have spent years supporting the concept of eating locally, so it is with heartfelt passion that I can now say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I support drinking locally, too. New York wines have officially earned my respect, my devotion, and my palate. From here on out, my focus and my consuming habits will mostly consist of grapes grown near home, just as it was meant to be (though the occasional French, Italian, and Chilean wines will be imbibed from time to time).

I have tasted, I have studied, I have compared, and I have read the writing on the wall. It said, "Great wines are growing right in your own state, dummy. Drink more of them, and tell people!" Why did it take me so long to realize this?

To be fair, it wasn't all my fault. I simply didn't have easy access to these NY gems. I read about them from time to time, but when I looked for them in stores all I ever found in the way of NY wines was Manischewitz. So, needless to say, I stuck to the French aisles. But I knew I was missing out on something, and I decided to dig deeper. Why were there only two or three NY bottles on store shelves? And why all the California stuff, anyway? Sure, there are some superb California wines, but there are also a lot of bad ones, primarily due to the state of mass vinification going on there. New York, by contrast, does not mass produce. Most vineyards and wineries here are small, family owned operations. This explains in part why they aren't showing up everywhere, since the production amount is relatively small. But don't let that fool you into thinking the world doesn't know about them. These wineries can boast of some prestigious international awards, I have recently learned. Fortunately, I have the opportunity to taste many excellent New York wines now, as my curiosity and my desire to drink locally led me to Vintage New York in Soho, where I am now employed. And since April is officially New York wine month, now is a fabulous opportunity to talk about what I think are the some of the best wines in the world.

I was informally educated and ordained into the world of New York wines by way of my job, where we sell New York wines exclusively (the first store to do so in the city). Initially, I suspected that half the wines would be very good, with the others being mediocre. Well I, like so many others, had a lot to learn. New York is the third largest wine producer in the country, and home to some of the world's award winning and legendary wineries such as the Lenz estate, Vinifera Wine Cellars, and America's oldest winery, Brotherhood. I have encountered very few bad wines so far, and dozens of outstanding ones. In fact, having enjoyed mostly French wines in my lifetime and having a palate that prefers Burgundy, the Finger Lakes wines are a perfect match for me. Generally, in both style and climate, New York wines are similar to French wines. So, if you prefer big oaky California Chardonnays and overtly fruity Cabernet Sauvignons, then NY wines may not be for you. However, if you tend toward the elegant, well, then you've come to the right place. I have much to say about my beloved state's terroir, too. Each region is unique, so just as a Riesling from the Keuka Lake area will tell of the shale that made up the sandy soil, a North Fork Cabernet Franc will whisper notes of herbs and spice and cool gulf stream breezes.

The Finger Lakes region, where award winning Rieslings and Pinot Noirs abound, boasts terroir comparable to Burgundy. The area's steep slopes provide excellent soil drainage, while the large bodies of water serve to moderate harsh temperatures. The often cool and damp conditions inspire grapes to produce more resveratrol, with the end result being wines more concentrated in the antioxidant. I am particularly fond of Dr. Frank's Rkatsiteli and Fleur de Pinot Noir.

On Long Island, the temperatures are warmer in summer, and there Bordeaux grapes dominate under a longer growing season. I am in love with the earthy, luscious Long Island Merlots as much as I am the dry, smoky Cabernet Francs. Long Island is known for its likeness to the Bordeaux region of France, both in the grapes planted there as well as the climate and terrain. I'll let you read more about that area from expert Lenn Thompson, whose blog, Lenndevours, is devoted to New York wines, and particularly the North Fork of Long Island. (Thank you, Lenn, for all the information and great reading you provide about NY wines)

Despite being written about in numerous publications including Wine Spectator, Food and Wine, The New York Times and others, I still think more needs to be done to promote NY wines on the east coast. We are in an era where consuming locally is more important than ever, and New York wines should be filling east coast shelves. It's the sustainable way, it's the logical and ecological way, and what's more, it's the most pleasurable way. If you're in the city or close by, don't take my word for it. Come by and taste for yourself.

Wines for the Equinox

I never did get around to showing you what was in my Easter basket. Suffice it to say I was quite pleased, and even though we missed Easter vigil and mass (I was working) I did get to celebrate the holiday with a few Spring surprises that were much more fun than dyed eggs. Does a case of Dr. Frank's finest selections convince you that the Easter bunny was very, very good to me this year?

Admittedly, I have never been much of a lover of white wines. But if there is going to be a time to indulge in something different, the Vernal Equinox and the transition from snow to daffodils are pleasant reminders that Spring is a time for change and new beginnings. I began with a rarity-a Ukrainian grape that I wasn't familiar with before, and have Dr. Frank to thank for the introduction. You may remember from my previous post that Dr. Frank emigrated from the Ukraine, so the planting of Rkatsiteli was a natural selection. It makes a unique wine that is loaded with tropical fruit and a hint of spice. It is ever so slightly sweet, with a pleasing, snappy finish that rounds it all out. A stand out wine that also makes a very special gift for a wine collector.

I was a bit stand-offish at first when it came time for the Riesling, as I am not a fan of sweet. Well, my hesitation was all for naught. This Riesling isn't sweet at all, and due to the unique terroir of the region it is packed with minerals and slate. Crisp fruit, refreshing acidity, and subtle floral notes make it a delightful accompaniment to Easter dinner (which should include a leg of lamb, by the way). And speaking of lamb, I find that the relatively low alcohol content (usually 12%) in Dr. Frank's portfolio make them excellent food wines. They compliment, but they never overwhelm. Even the dry rosé, which is rather tart, paired quite well with a vanilla custard. In fact, all of the wines paired well with all of the food I tried them with. But, if I had to pick an aperitif wine from the bunch (oh, how my arm hurts when it's twisted this way) I would choose the Gewurztraminer. It marries perfectly well with many dishes, and is often paired with spicy foods, but I prefer to enjoy it all by itself. Call it a time to stop and smell the roses, as this Gewurtz is elegantly abundant in rose, with characteristic flecks of minerals and spice. It is a sensual wine with a long beautiful finish that lasts all the way to April - though I doubt my case of Chateau Frank wines will last that long. I can always renew my supply, and so can you, by ordering from Vinifera Wine Cellars. Or, if you're in Manhattan, simply stop by and fill your basket at Vintage New York.

Father of Vinifera, Growing the American Dream

When Dr. Konstantin Frank emigrated from the Ukraine back in the 1950's, America, and especially New York, wasn't exactly a mecca for wine production. Most of the grapes growing in the Empire State were native labrusca grapes; mostly Concords made into juice and jams. Concords are certainly a New York gem, but was there room for more on the lush lands upstate that were so strategically situated at 43 degrees latitude? Indeed, there was. It took the spirit of a pioneer, the mind of a scientist, and the persistence of a man who didn't fear the cynics or the cold if they stood in the way of his dream. That dream, which began not so long ago, was the dream that brought vinifera grapes to the east coast.

Before Dr. Frank, New York was thought to be much too cold for growing traditional wine making grapes. The idea of drinking a good Riesling or Pinot Noir from New York seemed impossible-laughable, even. So when the thoughtful pioneer told others of his vision to plant vinifera and cultivate European wines, there were many who bemoaned the weather, insisting that it could not be done. They declared the vines would surely perish in the extreme cold. Tell that to a man who came from a place where, in his words, "Spit would freeze before it hit the ground." He wasn't about to lose heart over a much more moderate drop in temperature.

Now that's my kind of guy. Confident, not bothered by a little cold air, and definitely not ruffled by a few resistors (also known as nay-sayers, critics, know-it-alls, pests). He didn't have time to be bothered by all this, because he had serious work to do. Of course, the road was not always easy. (And how could it be? What great legends were made by trust fund babies living on the upper west side? I can't think of one.) His English was quite shaky and he was in a new country, vast and still unfamiliar to him. Despite holding advanced degrees, his first job in America was washing dishes. After that, he secured employment at the New York State Experiment Station, but again he was given a menial job. So, he did what he had to do until he could do what he was meant to do - and as you'll see, what he was meant to do was change the landscape of New York forever, and come to be called the father of vinifera for the east coast.

He had his eye on the Finger Lakes, where the pristine waters dipped into rolling green hills and plains. The lakes would cool the grapes in summer and temper the harsh winter winds. The locale was idyllic, and in time, Dr. Frank planted rows of vines that would soon become the wines of New York's empirical future. Things began to take shape when he met Charles Fournier, a French wine maker who believed in Dr. Frank's vision and hired him as a consultant. What the two men needed first was good, hardy stock. Rootstock, that is. It had to be something more robust than the native or hybrid vines. Something resilient that could withstand the cold and still thrive-a rootstock, you might say, that was more like Dr. Frank himself. Find it they did, and when this vigorous rootstock (sourced from Quebec) was grafted onto vinifera, it produced so many healthy grapes that the nay-sayers and critics were silenced for the first time in...well, for the first time. Hard to imagine, isn't it? Meanwhile, Dr. Frank's cup runneth over. He went on to establish Vinifera Wine Cellars in 1962, and turned out wines so elegant they knocked the critics' socks off - the same critics who said it couldn't be done. Well, not only could it be done, but he did it better than most. Not only did he do it better, but his heirs would later expand and improve the winery times three. If that weren't enough, he also inspired literally hundreds of future winemakers to plant vinifera in the region.

I like to imagine that first ounce of Riesling, scrutinized inside a beaker held with trembling hands. I can see the spark in Dr. Frank's eyes when he tasted that burst of beautiful yellow fruit, perfeclty balanced with the mineral acidity that is a mark of excellence. How he must have invisioned in turn the first splash that would soon be poured into a ready glass. Call it the splash of vinifera heard round the world, because today New York is the third largest wine producer in the country, with new vineyards cropping up in droves. Dr. Konstantin Frank showed us the way.

His heirs have improved upon and expanded the initial success. His son, the late Willy Frank, operated the vineyard and winery until his death at age 80 (and that is another great story, for another article.) Fred, his grandson, took the helm in 2006.

I could tell you about all the awards their wines have won, but the press has done that, and it is widely known Dr. Frank wines are not only extraordinary, but rival some top French Burgundies. They have been served at famed New York City restaurants and sold in little wine shops. They have been served at the tables of royalty and at the tables of the working class. They have been served at my table, and will be as long as the Frank family makes great wines.
Before trying Dr. Frank wines, I didn't even know I liked Gewurztraminer or Riesling. I suppose I'd never had such great ones. But, Dr. Frank showed me the way.

What inspires me as much as the wines is the fact that Konstantin Frank lived the true American dream. From the ground up, he built his future. It was a future crafted from hard work, perseverance in the face of adversity, and an impenetrable will. It was the kind of work done by someone who was not afraid to get his hands dirty. A dream built on integrity. The kind of dream we should all aspire to, and what should truly make an empire state have the right to call itself that. Otherwise, it's just a place with a large city and black suits.

In my next post I will share with you the Dr. Frank wines I have tasted, and explore some of my favorites.

Ale in the Afternoon

I am passionate about wine, and will drink it to the end of days, however long they may be. Beer, however, I will drink on more than a few afternoons. I don't claim to know much about it. I know I like Chimay, Duvel, and Leffe, Spaten dark and Guinness. I am partial to ales, but lagers taste good to me, too. I even remember the first time I tasted beer and hated it, mistakenly assuming for years that all beer tasted like watered down horse pee (aka Budweiser). But I eventually found my way. I have since discovered that my taste for beers has a peculiar time frame in which it dictates enjoyment, and that beers are associated with certain people and emotions. First, I can only drink beer in the afternoon, because it is best in daylight, with or without food. I don't know the exact reason for this, but I believe it must be partly because I have reserved the night for that sacred beverage, wine. And I wouldn't want a beer with my dinner. I most assuredly would with lunch, though. There are calories to consider, yes, but that is a trifling matter to be worried about by the sort of women who care about whether their bras match their panties. I can't be bothered by these details.

I associate dark porters with a friend from college, and wheat beers with my old apartment on Normal Avenue. I associate pale beers with my father, together with light yellow flowers. This is the color beer he most often drank when he was living. Once, at age seven, he sent me a bunch of yellow flowers to cheer me up when my dog died, and I still have the little card that came with them, found inside a book years later. It had a sketch of yellow roses on it. Just wanted to cheer up my little girl. I love you, Daddy.

In high school he again sent me a bouquet of yellow flowers, which I dried and pressed into a book. (I have a habit of storing remembrances inside books, along with writer's guild certificates and photographs). Ten years later, I saved the yellow roses from his funeral and pressed them into the same pages. I could have sworn they gave off the faintest scent of polished wood and lager.

If my father were alive, he would visit me here in Brooklyn and we would walk down to the little German place I've grown fond of. He would order a light Spaten in a boot, and I would have an Optimator. Then we would sample the various sausages, and on our second round I would pull out the little card with the picture of the yellow flowers and show him how I'd saved it all these years. He would take it from my hand and laugh out loud - a big boisterous laugh - and we would talk about my childhood pet, Sandy. Later, I would show him the pressed flowers I'd saved, and we'd sort through the photographs and memories late into the day. We might even, should the mood hit us, toast to life's surprises over a Trappist. At least that's the way I imagine it would be.

You see, I love wine. But sometimes, it's good to have an ale in the afternoon.

What Was Lost

Dear Reader,
With regret, I don't have any photos of glorious Carménère vines, deeply rooted in their soil on a rolling Chilean vineyard. I have not yet been to Chile, and therefore cannot supply an accompanying image to compliment my tale of this enduring grape. I live in Brooklyn, and the closest I can give you is a picture of a bottle of Carménère, taken at home - but that would be repetitive. And so instead, we will have to make due with photos taken from a recent winter's walk in my neighborhood, and perhaps glean from the stillness and beauty of trees and snow a sense of appreciation for nature's endurance.
I will share with you now, the story of my favorite grape; the legend of Carménère. If you like, and you certainly should, pour yourself a glass and get snug in your bed. Now close your eyes and I will begin.

Once upon a time, Carménère was the glory of France, being one of the six original noble grapes (the others are Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet franc, and Petit verdot). Aptly named after its beautiful crimson color, it grew in abundance in the Bordeaux region, and found itself quite at home there as a blending grape as well as a lone noble grape, fit for a noble imbiber. It was the grape of kings and conquerors, drunk by Napoleon Bonaparte himself as he rode through the French countryside on his valiant steed!
Well, that Napoleon bit might be a tiny dramatization on my part. But this is a bedtime story, and I'm creating images to incorporate into your dreams. Now, where was I?

Oh yes, the noble grape was once rightly so, crimson and beautiful to taste. When in full maturation it was filled with the flavors of bright cherries and chocolate; wood and leather and smoke. And the name! Carménère. Say it aloud. Car men AIR. Isn't it lovely in the mouth? It has a Nabokovian beauty, with the triplet of syllables unfolding on the tongue as does Lo li ta, but with more feminine curves. Full and womanly is our Carménère.


Crimson and leather, curves and literary allusions...it all seems so romantic. And it is! It is a romantic grape not because of its natural beauty, though, dear reader. It is because of its loss that is has grown beautiful. Loss, as in all great tales of romance and survival, is what compels us to go on. And now I've reached the sad part of the story. If you need to refill your glass, go ahead.

The abominable plague of 1867 that ravaged European vines, the dreadful phylloxera, blighted France and the rest of the continent, and doomed our poor grape along with the others. France was in despair, as you can imagine, with vineyards wiped off of the face of the country. Families were uprooted, the economy was in crisis, the land was left ravaged and vineless. The future appeared bleak, much like these barren Brooklyn trees you see, leafless in the stark February sun.

To add despair upon greater despair, our beautiful Carménère was particularly afflicted by the unrelenting pest, and by the end of this savage ordeal had completely been obliterated from France. It was a very sad time, indeed. But like all times of loss and despair, it eventually came to an end. Phylloxera was ultimately rid from Europe by way of a helping hand from America, whose rootstocks, when grafted onto European vines, rendered them resistant. (I won't go into detail on this matter, but it is a wonderful story of nature's wrath and bounty, so I encourage further reading on the subject.) The plague was over, and wine vines thrived once again! Well, all but one, that is. I needn't remind you which.

And so it was that France made it through a time of great hardship, but not without suffering the loss of our heroine. The country carried on, but our lady Carménère was quite forgotten. She was thought to be buried deep in the Earth's dark tombs for dead vines for many, many years.

Until, that is.....until ONE DAY!!

(at this point I've no doubt stirred you from your cozy pillow, so it would be a fine time to refill your glass again)

Okay, we're getting to the good part. We must journey into a foreign land! Quite far away from our native France, we arrive in the country of Chile. Why, French isn't even the national language, can you imagine? And yet, we will find something French here, after all. Something we thought buried and put away for a long, long time. Now, those of you who know this story, don't spoil the surprise. Just hold your horses.
There, in Chile, masquerading for 150 years as though a debutante at a very long ball, our Carménère is found alive! In the disguise of Merlot, at that! Of course, the Chileans hadn't noticed. Why should they recognize a French ghost, who happened to look almost identical to their well established Merlot grapes? And however did it get there?! It was quite a journey. In fact, not only had our precious grape been mistaken for Merlot in Chile, but she was later found hiding in Italy, too! She had found a way to survive. Of course, things like ships and men certainly helped, mind you. And the adequate growing conditions in these foreign climes, they also certainly played a role.


But what's important is that the sun had not set on our Carménère, after all. The promise of days to basque in the light and warmth, bearing fruit of the most succulent nature, was sound. What was once lost, had now been found.

Carménère is thriving in Chile to this day, and grows in a small part of Italy, too. Even a portion of France still boasts of some vines. And I can't promise anything, but it is whispered that it may be making something of a comeback in Bordeaux in the future. We shall see. For now, it is time to sip and dream, dream and sip. Take in the flavors and aromas of the most romantic grape, with the most romantic story of them all.

The end. Fin. El fin.

But wait! I wouldn't be a very good storyteller if I didn't give you something to think about for tomorrow. I suggest you savor these affordable Carménères while you ponder the loss, the rebirth, and the eternal....

Lan Zur, Concha y Toro, Terra Andina.