Imbibing through Europe again. Traveling Denmark and Germany and the drinks in between Part 2 of ?

Copenhagen Airport - Googled Image taken from Internet
I did not take this photo.

Before I headed off on this trip I met up with a good friend of mine who had some rather big news.  He not unlike myself was heading to Europe as well, although while I was off for a vacation he was making a big change.

"Me and Valerie made up our minds, we're moving to Barcelona."

"The hell!!??"

I was sitting down with my good friend at the Quarry House Tavern, a good simple watering hole that I pick as a meeting place for us both on occasion. A solitary place of middle ground, it's sort of between our houses in the area.  I grab something Belgian, or perhaps a local on tap brew, he nestling his Guinness in his hands is satisfied.

This came out of nowhere, but I could sense his unbridled enthusiasm and his eagerness to move on, son in tow, quit his job, it was what they wanted.  He even decided to write about the transition which you can read on his blog here at this link: 6 Degrees of Anticipation.

"Wow" I said, crinkling my hands around a tulip of St. Feuillien, glancing around at the younger singles who have time to pass and less heavier stuff to deal with than us it seemed.

"Funny you say that, I am heading off to Copenhagen and Berlin soon"!  I mentioned.

"Copenhagen huh"!  he said.  "Yeah I been there...." his thoughts trailed off slightly with me wanting yet another glimpse into anything that he could tell me more about this place.  Perhaps a cool spot, a neat piece of scenery, a real great tip..  he beckoned with one simple note that he didn't hesitate, as if it was the most important thing I should know.  Without missing a beat, the first thing that formed out of his lips to say to me was:

"That place is expensive as hell."

So there it was, stuck in my head all that time.  The commute to Dulles airport, making sure I didn't forget to pack anything, keeping the ideas of the trip in mind, but with that all, the time had past.  It was October 1st, and there we were, in a daze, jet lagged, in the wrong time zone, was it October? what day of the week really was it?  All I knew was that it was about 8 AM and we were to wait here for Katrine to come pick us up, with maybe her son, and somehow our trip would begin.  But I should hang on to my wallet.

The first footstep even seemed memorable once we entered the airport.  Copenhagen's airport is spacious. Wooden.  Architecturally impressive.  Filled with glass and open skies to see.  Half the time walking through it seemed like we were in a museum.  Chestnut colored planks of wood everywhere, I wanted it in my house.  Interesting inviting chairs and places to sit down in.  This place looks better than my living room I thought.  It's also no surprise that Copenhagen's airport ranks as one of the top airports for travelers in the world, for numerous reasons that become obvious once you step foot in it for the first time.

It is truly beautiful.

We entered customs, my head still glancing down to wood planks, that I wish I could pilfer for my living room floor.  A simple customs officer sat behind a glass cabinet, perfectly angled.  A few simple questions for us both, and then one more.  His demeanor while extremely professional, without a touch of malice, faint uniform pressed intricately through a collar, was my first experience dealing with someone from Denmark.  One last question, almost said with a smile,

"Have you ever been to Denmark before?"

In all my life, this has NEVER been a question asked by ANY customs official in any foreign country I have ever stepped into.  It was almost as if they were asking me to enter the kingdom of make believe.

"No" I said, beaming with huge enthusiasm, as if I somehow just won some great prize, trying hard not to make the smile on my face seem too large.

"Enjoy your stay", and with that his hand reached out, handed us back our passports, and we walked past, to a perfect set of plexiglass doors, that pulled sideways in a silent but glorious ballet like movement, to welcome us to the land, and which we saw, the beginning of this country and its citizens.  In all my life I have never had made an entrance to a country quite like that.

Still, we had to wait for our friend.

It was at this time I noticed, I should probably take care of one of my standard desires, and that is to have a cup of coffee.

I don't drink regular coffee, per se... I actually drink espresso.  This isn't some chi chi foo foo habit, in fact I never drank coffee at all growing up, but that all changed when I spent a month in Portugal with a good friend and his family.  I picked up a cup of espresso with sugar in my late 20s and that habit has never stopped.  When this habit is not taken care of, BAD things can happen (Physically and mentally).

"I see there's a Starbucks over there, so I am going to go take a look and maybe grab a shot," I mentioned to my wife.  We were going to be sitting I was sure for awhile, after all Katerine had to deal I am sure with traffic or whatever, and we still had lots of time before she was to arrive.

I walked over to the Starbucks menu, to look for the cost of a double espresso.  Something I order every day, often twice (one in the morning one in the afternoon) to keep my mind at ease while I work.  Where I live the cost of a Starbucks double espresso with tax is $2.48 US dollars.

I took a glance at the menu, and stayed out of the line, not a large one mind you, but it was good to get away from consumers who haven't had their morning cup of joe yet.  I had to make sure I was reading the menu correctly, it was however nicely presented.  One side had the items, and the prices were in 2 columns.  One contained Danish Krone, the currency of Denmark.  The other contained the price in Euros.  Denmark is an EU member, but it does not use the Euro in the country, it uses it's own currency called the Krone (which translates as crown).

My eyes had to double check to make sure I was understanding what I was reading.  Denmark's language barrier really isn't that bad for native English speakers.  English is often spoken, and its often presented throughout the country.  Krones are not similar in terms of value to say US dollars, the denominations are higher, so I wasn't used to seeing items to gauge their value at first by looking at things that might be 100, 500, 1000 krone.  I looked again at the Euro column, something that I could quickly calculate a US dollar value.  The price for a double espresso in Euros ... was ... roughly....  six Euros.

6 Euros?!?!?  That's nearly 8 friggin BUCKS FOR AN ESPRESSO WHAT THE HELL MAN?!?!

I could suddenly feel my wallet burning...

I came back to the bench where my wife was keeping an eye out for our luggage and waiting.  "Where's your coffee?" she asked.  "Forget it I don't need it."  I fumed.  "Does this mean I am going to hear all day how bad a headache you have on this trip?" she said.  "Don't worry we'll figure something out." I retorted.

* - * - *

We waited a little bit for Katerine.  Come to think of it I didn't think of backup plans so much if she didn't show up, but that's what an adventure is for.  Eventually we knew to probably look for someone with a child, and suddenly a woman appeared pushing the biggest stroller (pram) I have ever seen in my life.  Strollers I discovered in Europe are larger, with these giant Humvee style wheels.  You can keep and store everything in them.  Katerine had everything she could need in there, blankets, bottles, groceries, napkins, probably even a giant battle axe for Magnus too.

"Katerine!" my wife said.  I recognized her as well after a quick look I remembered her features from the time we once met in the DC area.  She was with her son Magnus, a true viking blonde young looking warrior, a little cranky, but also full of spunk.  He was fairly quiet at first, but that was all to change.

It made sense that we should head to her apartment and get centered, so a quick trip on the subway line and some transfers and we should be on our way.  I had concerns about having Katerine taking care of us along with a two year old.  I assumed this was going to be too much for her to handle but one thing I quickly discovered is that if you are an unemployed single parent Denmark is where you want to be.  More on that later...

While standing on the subway/train platform I noticed it was overcast and raining pretty good.  It was gray, and a little cold, and more so quite wet.  This however couldn't dampen my enthusiasm on first arrival, but it also reminded me of the second thing that spilled out of my friends mouth when I asked him about Copenhagen.

"The weather sucks!  It's always cold gray and raining." he said.

My eyes peered into the observance of the population as well while sitting on the train.  Danes looked different than Americans.  They were dressed in dark woolen like jackets all the time, scarves as well, and the populace seemed to be bathed in colored darkness.  They unlike us Americans though, didn't look huge.  However, their somber appearance seemed to blend into the gray skies and puddles like a greased oil painting as if it was a perfect match for the scenery that we traveled through as the raindrops hit the side car windows.

Speaking of huge my mind boggled at how the hell was that stroller going to get on the subway?  Katerine did obviously get here with it, a feat I thought that would be impossible using public transportation back home in DC.  That's when I learned the other great thing about Copenhagen.

It has an amazing transportation system that is one of the best, if not THE BEST I have ever experienced anywhere.

The train pulls up, youth and adults pile in and out seamlessly.  The doors are large, and there is a section that opens what seems like the parting of the red sea, to let anyone with a stroller or bicycle walk on to the train.  There is even room for bike and strollers on the buses!

Boy they know how to do things right here I thought.  Suddenly the large stroller didn't seem out of place.  The streets and sidewalks are often large cobblestones, which makes sense for large wheels to go over them.  Ah... Danish design... but it was more of a reality to see how Europe does things differently.

We ended up in the Østerbro neighborhood where Katerine lives.  A side street, bicycles parked EVERYWHERE, led us to the entrance to her front door.  It was small.  It was cozy.  It was a place she purchased years ago, and it was an old building.  The 220 volt outlet was barely hanging on the wall. sporadic lighting was dotted around the rooms, the tiniest kitchen I had ever seen, the wood floors... god I would never stop thinking of wood on my visit to Denmark, the wood was worn and filled with decades of past tenants scuffs and wears, uneven planks of cut timber, and history of the feet that crossed its path.  It was small, full of history.  It was old.  The walls painted simple cream white, to make the wood more obvious it seemed.

It was perfect.

We dropped our bags off, and we were fighting to stay awake.  Jet lag is just a fact of long distance travel.  It's the first 24-48 hours that are the worst.  You put up the good fight, and in the end are rewarded with a long sleep, but you have to be pummeled and hit what feels like a marathon of punishment as the sun and day still exists before you.

My wife already had ideas once we dropped our bags.  There were museums and sights to see, which would fill up our time.  Fine with me, but first we needed lunch.

We were simply taken care of by the goodness that Europe brings to the table.  Bread.  Does any other place in the world make bread better than Europe?  No... and no nobody in the US comes anywhere close.  We sat down at a tiny table, Magnus on hand, as a giant piece of duck pate was spread across the rye loaf like an ocean wave.  I took some myself, while watching him gobble his down ferociously in amazement.  I tried the same, took one bite... and its richness went straight to my arteries and deprived sleep brain.  I am going to have a heart attack right here I thought.

Danish Museum of Art and Design

For the remainder of the evening and afternoon we would head out to a museum my wife wanted to see and some other sights.  She wanted to see the Danish museum of Art and Design, which contains a lot of classic furniture.  We've actually taken some real nice fondness for this type of furniture since we bought a mid century modern house a few years a go.  We bought a few pieces of Danish styled furniture through the years that really fit well with the aesthetics of our home, and of course my wife was looking for ideas.  Plus it seemed interesting.

I was barely staying awake.

How long have we been up now straight? 30 hours?  When was the last time I had a drink?  I lost track.  I stopped caring what day of the week it was.

The museum was true to name. There was lots of furniture.  Some of it honestly really dam nice.  There was lots of chairs.  Funky chairs,  Swiveling chairs,  Weird ass shaped chairs.  Womb chairs.  Chairs that were wood.  Chairs with string and rope.

This is some... well... uh... ok it's a lot of chairs.  Then as these thoughts crossed my mind, the walking through the neighborhoods and seeing Nyhavn (the quintessential Denmark tourist stop, only a trap if you eat at the overpriced cafes and restaurants there), still filled with scaffolding since it was now past tourist season, my mind was saying....

You have been up for 40+ hours and you need to sit down.

What time is it?  Oh it's only 5:30 PM.

Boy I have a lot of time to kill, never mind my stomach doesn't understand what time it is supposed to be eating.  After all, dinner hopefully is coming soon.

After witnessing chair after chair, the perfect chair, a thought crossed my mind, the one that happens just before your sleep deprived brain tells you, you are going to pass out...  A thought that was horrifically a constant torture reminder while visiting this museum.

I ... really... need... to sit... the fuck.... down...

Here are all these historical chairs.. and my sleep deprived brain... and I can't sit on them...

If that's not torture I don't know what is.

I was desperate to catch my breath. While walking through this treasure of angles and linear degrees of comfort, I finally found an employee as I noticed only a few of the chairs had signs that said or translated into any persons language, do NOT sit here.

"Can I sit on these chairs?"  to which the employee said... OH YES YES absolutely, just not the ones that are on tall stages or have signs. he said back.  We strongly encourage you to experience them, in their design and aesthetic and feel, he said.

Oh Valhalla thank god!  My aching tired, sleep deprived muscle of a brain was BEGGING me to take lounge upon these incredible creations.  It was like Goldilocks in the bears house.  This one's too hard, this ones too soft, this one baby... is just right.  And when you have been up for more than 40 hours with no sleep... these chairs will make you catatonic.

The museum has also historical period pieces of wood carved items that are extremely ornate.  It's a museum worth checking out if  you are into design, furniture and the like.

We sauntered out finally after my wife had finished reading every placard on the wall, and seen everything there was inside.  We caught the local bus right outside, and headed home.

When was the last time I had a beer?  I thought to myself...  Why can't we have bike lanes everywhere back in DC I thought?  I could get to work so much more easily on my bike than I did if I lived in Copenhagen.  Here the bikes have their own traffic lanes, and even stop signals, and the paths go everywhere.  There are more bikes than cars, and everyone seems to be on one.  This was just a sight to behold.  I ride 7.5 miles to work back and forth on my bicycle to D.C. and back to Maryland where I live.  I do have some bike paths, but there are areas where there aren't any, and sharing the road is often dangerous.  If that's not bad enough, sometimes it seems like we are at war with automobiles and the attitudes of some others.  In Copenhagen you don't even have to worry about any of that stuff it seems.

"I thought I should tell you something, that I think would be a good treat for dinner tonight." said Katerine, while she kept an eye on Magnus, who was actually very well behaved in a large museum.  Often I felt I was going to have tackle him before he knocked over a priceless antique or something, but he did fine... mostly.

"I was going to make for you what we Danes call Christmas lunch, it's not really the time of year for it, but I think you'd like it.  It's sort of a combination of breads and courses over the evening."

We absolutely said yes, and awaited the thoughts of what might come.  We were served a healthy dose of smørrebrød, which is something I had read about and was very keen on taking in for my visit.  It really is something that at first glance looks real easy to prepare.  All you need is some good amounts of quality breads, and great items to put on them I figured.

I really love the simplicity of this.  As a food nut I get into preparations, and spices, and textures and all the like.  It's often work, and fretting over how much or how little of something I added, or if something was overcooked.  Not here with this dinner, the ingredients just do the talking.  Pickled herring, a simple cut hard boiled egg a spread called remoulade? (other times just great flavorful butter), incredibly chewy and flavorful baked pieces of rye bread.  The dill... oh god the dill, my wife and I LOVE dill, so much so that we practically cry every year trying to grow it in my herb garden and it NEVER takes (our climate seems too hot for it we think).

This is great example of simple form and function in the kitchen, so much so I am going to make it for Christmas Eve myself for family.  I was looking at pictures of this before I left fascinated by the look of smørrebrød.  Bright green leaves, cured type fish of herring and/or salmon, it's veins and curves glistening, topped with the brightness of egg white, splashes sometimes of dill, watercress, and those incredibly flavorful breads.  I had picked out a couple well reviewed restaurants and lunch places that served this, then also looked at what an open face piece of bread costs at these places.

Once again my wallet caught fire.

But here we were, sitting around a crowded table, bottles of wine at the ready, a somewhat fidgety  two year old, plates awaiting, eagerly wishing more.  We were told there were traditionally several courses.  Ravenously hungry and totally out of it, I thought it would be just what I needed.  I find myself at times when I am jet lagged often having one last meal before I go to bed so I can get my body on a regular pattern.  What I always remember, is that I can't hold on to my food because my body physically starts shaking.

We were served a second course of smørrebrød, and before I could grab a piece of herring, I nearly dumped my wine glass on the table reaching for it in a quiver. Luckily I just caught it before hand while my wife nervously looked on.

After the second course, and was it 3rd? 4th? glass of wine I had, I suddenly realized something.  I was feeling full.  Wait a second, how is this possible?  I had what 2 pieces of bread and I am getting full?  How is this happening?

It was true though, I remarked "Boy this is tasty, how many courses are there usually?"  Katerine replied back, "Sometimes about 5-8".  "Gee I am actually... kind of getting stuffed strangely."  To which my wife also said, "Yeah me too!", as we said with some nervous laughter.

How the hell can you eat 2 pieces of bread and be this full?!  but that was what was happening.  How in the heck are we going to finish this meal I thought looking at my wife who had the same sleep deprived look on her face, and same whimpering drawl that felt too ashamed to not say, please no more...

Plates kept coming, and as good as it was, we couldn't take it in the state we were in.  I closed my eyes while Katerine assembled in a clatter in the kitchen for maybe 10 seconds.  I think 5 minutes passed after I opened my eyes, and I am not sure what happened.

We were not going to survive this I thought...

Finally Katerine announced with much bridled enthusiasm, NEXT COURSE!!  Boy we were being treated well, so much so we were going to die.

SCHNAPPS!!

Oh dear god no...  Finally I am not sure if it was me or my wife who said it first, but someone, or maybe it was both of us at the same time who just said, "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!!  NO MORE DRINK AND FOOD!"

Katerine burst out laughing.  At first I was really concerned if we were on the same friendly ground, after all I never turn down good food or drink, and we were invited guests.  We were extremely thankful to have room and board, and not sleeping on a wet sidewalk somewhere instead. But the hours, the convulsing, the wine, the belly stuffed inexplicably with a bunch of herring, we needed to go to bed.  We also had lots to do tomorrow to get on schedule, as did Katerine.

"It's so funny" she laughed, to which my wife and I weren't sure if she was serious or not.  Without missing a beat she simply said, "See now you actually sound like Danes!".

We were fitting in perfectly.

I think we got in 4 plates, and just polished off the last bottle of wine.  I realized I never had a beer yet, but I was to go hunt for some tomorrow.  "Oh I have some in the fridge" Katerine said, to which I replied great I'll have one tomorrow.  Probably two.  Right after I nestle a jet lag induced hangover, I'll be right there.

But for now, our first day was concluded.  Somehow I got myself into a shower, it's a very blurry memory, and passed out into a restful quiet slumber.  The rain drops nestled the windows, as the circles and wheels of leaned up bikes pressed themselves against the side concrete grey walls of the buildings outside, as if they were to hug beside me and nestle me into sleep.  It was an unbelievable first experience, and it would continue tomorrow.

It was like sitting in the perfect chair.

And tomorrow.... there would be beer!

Night night all!

Back to Domku, and a small trip into Georgian wine

I set back to return to a familiar place.  Domku is a restaurant in the Petworth neighborhood of DC that I had often visited back in the day.  I found a perfect imbibing excuse to drop in again,  as they were hosting a wine and diner pairing, for of all things Georgian wine.

Georgian wine is not something I run into too often and I was eager to partake.  Here I usually grab some good Eastern European food and drink (check out the meatballs, and the aquavit here), but this created a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.  I have never had Georgian wine before and more importantly was very eager to see what it was like.  While really not that commonly mentioned or thought of as a place to enjoy wine, Georgia's wine making history is extremely vast and extensive.  I really wanted to get an idea of what it was all about and this seemed like a good opportunity.  Our first course was to be served a simple sparkling brut type wine named or perhaps from Bagratoioni.

This was paired with probably the best part of the meal, a nice lemon and egg soup called Chickhirtma.  The brut's nose was typically spritzy but also with a green floral chlorophyl sense.  Body was extremely light, crisp, and had a very club soda like palate.  Sort of a sparkling wine club soda mix and floral air.  Very unique and interesting.

Things were starting off well, as the next course arrived.  I went for a Khinkali which was very much like a stuffed perogi, while my dining companion chose the spiced lamb meatballs.  Wine paired was a Chateau Mukharani Goruli Mtsvane Dry White.

The Mukharani had a nose of a mild sweet green grape bouquet, very faint honey in the palate mixing again with some soft florals.  Finish was mellow as to be expected, but once again extremely light.

I was beginning to wonder if there was a character emerging in the wines.  Many of them felt incredibly light bodied compared to just about every other wine I have had.  I was eyeing the back of the bar where a Bell's beer tap handle exclaimed Two Hearted and tried to stay focused.  I was hoping that as a mostly red wine drinker that the next wine would be a bit different change of pace.

Served with a simple piece of lamb and rice pilaf was Mukuzani Dry Red.  Dry was quite apt, however, the nose exhibit some cherry jam, almost pectin, with the palate also extremely light as well, with mild tannins and a faint hint of plum.

I was beginning to wonder if it was just me who was thinking the wines all felt quite light bodied and sort of "nearly thin", but they were quite unique and distinct but still managed to have enjoyable qualities.

In the end no dessert was served, except our last drink, which was described as "like a grappa" by our waitress.  

The drink was called Chacha and was very much like a digestif grappa drink.  It did have a distinction of tasting very much resembling a unique faint powdery cocoa on the finish.  This was probably the most interesting drink of the night, and I've never had anything like it.

I am not sure if I have exactly been converted, or transformed into a huge fan of Georgian wine, but just having a few nice bites in a familiar fond place, has sparked my curiosity.

Dukeing it out again with Australian Shiraz. Mollydooker wines say you gotta do the shake

I really enjoy a good Australian Shiraz wine once in awhile, and sometime ago, I came across a wine called "The Boxer" from a winery known as Mollydooker.  It was a real fun,very well balanced shiraz full of flavor.  I made sure to actually remember this wine which is something I rarely do in imbibing, but this one made me take note.  It was awhile ago, so the only thing that comes to my mind back then was that it was extremely enjoyable.  There is a lot of wine out there, and it can get confusing also, but often it's out of reach by either being too obscure or sometimes just too expensive for myself.  However, Mollydooker wasn't like that for me and I made a mental note to get this wine again.  It's memorable 30s style cartoonish pugilist character easily would help me recognize the bottle on the shelf as well.

The new vintage came out recently and I was all set and ready.  I know wine enough to trust my own palate, and know pretty much the basics if you could call it that, and will always love wine and its incredible variety around the world.  I do tend to focus on specific varietals from specific regions, since they are what I like to drink.  I certainly by no means am an "expert" but know plenty enough to get around. I was basically all set to crack this open and have at it, when I noticed something I hadn't seen before.

With the bottle tightly clenched in my fist, on a day I was trying to find a bottle of Founders Canadian Breakfast Stout, I turned the label and was reading perhaps to learn more about how it was made, or just anything interesting.  On the label it simply said, to make sure to do the Mollydooker shake before serving.

What?!?!

There wasn't much else it said, but like all good companies with a marketing presence they had a nice website for you to visit to find more about them and their product.  The website went into describing that the bottle had to be SHAKEN first before being served.

I thought this was kind of a novelty at first but with a nice simple fun video they explained their reasoning.  You can see it here.  I remember back in my wine tasting days that there was one fun incident where a guy I knew pulled a wine out from his cellar that he wanted me to taste.  His decanters were full of other wines and being used and he wanted to decant this but had no option.  He stuck his thumb over the bottle and gave it a quick shake.  He jokingly mentioned to me in a fun playful voice, "This is what I call cheating".

It was all very much wink and a nod after that, but no harm or foul seemed to be done.  Thinking back to the event though it made me wonder if shaking this wine would even make a difference.  Mollydookers website goes into a brief discussion also about why this wine should NOT be decanted, but SHAKEN.  I was skeptical, but was willing to try it out.  In fact I thought it would make a great video.

So here below I give my opinion and thoughts on the Mollydooker shake.  Enjoy and Cheers!

Hitting a brief imbibing run while in Maine, brings a lot of fun, and a big lift to the spirit

One thing about being on vacation is about relaxing. Nothing spells relaxing than having a nice good drink. I had been driving up to Maine from DC hitting a few beer places such as Portsmouth Brewery along the way, but a lazy Sunday provided an opportunity that was unexpected, having settled in and gotten comfortable with the in-laws.

Spending time with extended family, we went on a little farm tour for eating and drinking. Not giving a care in the world, sitting down in the back seat, I was allowed to let my mind just wander and think back as to what we would see and more importantly taste. Here I was truly not in the drivers seat, I was truly a lazy spectator with no expectations. Luckily I was going to find myself surprised.

Our first stop was Savage Oakes winery in Union Maine. As the list of tasting items was provided some items looked interesting and expected.

I get very suspicious of many small wineries, particularly ones that focus on fruit production and addition with their wines. For the most part it's catering to a different area, and the wine is usually not something I care for. Some of this was here, but not entirely.

The first wine I tasted though was George River, a sweet off-dry white made from Cayuga grapes. I expected typical sweetness, but also a sense of just bubblegum candy. What I got was anything but. My nose was immediately transported to sweet Rieslings and Gewürztraminer like style. Bursting with ripe sweet melon, but not cloying or sticky, even a body like a simple Pinot Grigio made for one enjoyable first sip, and quaff.

I'll cut to the chase. It was the best wine they offered for tasting. I turned to my wife and said this one is really good what do you think and she loved it even more. I am not much of a white wine sweet drinker but this one was plenty good enough for me, fancying my Alsacian Reisling and German Gweurz palate. Mentioning it to the store staff what I felt they said it was their best seller.

So much for not getting a good imbibe drink while in an obscure place. But like they say, but wait there's more.

My always entertaining hosts though were not done. There was another winery we were going to go to, but more importantly... they made spirits. It was here where I found a real treasure.

Sweetgrass Farm Winery and Distillery is located in Union Maine as well, not too far from where we were.

As the tasting list was provided, you could have 6 items, and I quickly dove into the four spirits which were Back River Gin, Cranberry Gin, Three Crow Rum, and Apple Brandy.

Back River Gin is London Dry in style but is added with the one ingredient essential to Maine and it's identity, that being Maine blueberries. Juniper in smell, with a fruity finish this was a real neat tasting gin. Dry with a real sharp finish, then finishing with a unique fruityness.

Cranberry gin was much like it's older Back River brother. Orange like and off pink in color, the cranberry gin had similar hallmarks but had an interesting mild carbonation feel, and had a finish tasting like very tight fizzy Italian orange soda.

The apple brandy I was quite curious about having enjoyed Tom's Foolery from Ohio. It did not disappoint either, taking a cue from a simple Calvados. Butter and cinnamon on the nose, light textured bringing the same notes from the nose to the palate.

All was going fine and well but there was one item here that stood out high and mighty and stories tall above the rest.

Described by the distillery, Three Crow Rum is a distilled rum made with top grade cane molasses fermented and distilled during the cold Maine winter for ultra smooth rum, aged in bourbon barrels.

First nose on this is an incredibly toasty brown sugar, literally browned and not burnt. The bouquet is complemented nonetheless with so much going on, hints of caramel, a huge nose of butter and butterscotch in particular and maple sugar, and buttered toasted whole wheat bread.

While the palate seemed a little thin, all the great notes on the nose come through in the taste not to be missed with so much variation, and an incredible buttery oak sensation on the finish.

I quickly snatched up two bottles of this, and if I knew I wasn't going to be bringing back many bottles of beer, I probably would have bought tonnes of this stuff. Nevertheless, gin, rum, and wine were all bought along a good event called Maine open farm days. I just wish more farmers could grow stuff like this more often. ;)

To see more check out my review below.

Returning to Owen Roe and finding out about my a.. b.. c..

I love wine, and that goes without saying when imbibing good drink. I could not imagine my life without it. However, back in my exploring days of wine I found myself diving into bold reds seeming to find either jammyness, complexity, smoke, big tannins leaving much white wine in the background who often didn't share these characteristics. Sure, I would find out I loved Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand, or the varying degrees of Rieslings from Alsace, even simple Vinho Verde from Portugal was a hit for me. But there was always one varietal that I never seemed to enjoy and that was chardonnay. I felt I could appreciate a good one, but I never could get much into so many of the oaky or ridiculously thick and buttery sensation that I felt. I soon learned to adopt a phrase I heard that was an inside joke among wine drinkers. You could call yourself and abc wine drinker. This meant, "Oh I am an A.B.C. wine drinker, I'll drink anything!"

Anything
But
Chardonnay.

And so my wine appreciation of chardonnay stayed like this for most of my life, until I went to visit Owen Roe. Owen Roe had been on mind for many years after trying some I think 95 rated cabernet (wine is scored on a 100 point scale) at a tasting I was at. Simply put for me the wine just was one of the best things I ever had, it might as well have been off the frikkin chart. To this day, I still don't know what year or varietal it was an I still kick myself for not making a note to remember it.

While visiting Oregon and Owen Roe, I purchased a case and decided on two bottles of chardonnay, the Columbia Valley 2009, mostly just so I could have something for my wife. I was enjoying all the other reds I was having and I figured well, they couldn't possibly screw this up for the chardonnay. Luckily I was right, when I got home and opened up a bottle a few weeks later I was floored.

Luckily I still had a second bottle and it seemed like I had to talk about this one, I just couldn't let me experience of this wine slide. It is aged only 7 months in the barrel in which 14% of the barrels are new French oak, the rest are neutral. The wine is only for sale in the tasting room, and is not that expensive.

This wine had this wonderful balanced buttery spice, almost like ghee. Small hints of oak, and citrus lemon and lime. In the mouth low acid with a good body, wonderful tolerable lime juice that isn't bitter on the finish, and soft velvet tannins. My only complaint... my first bottle was better. The second I opened up many months later and I think it lost some of its edge but it was still great.

Personal score:

First bottle: 93
The bottle I reviewed below: 91?

Hard to say I don't normally score wine, and I am not an expert but I'll never forget this wine.

Cheers and thanks Owen. OH and more importantly if you've read this far, please tell me a fav chardonnay of yours for the abc crowd cause I want another one!

Imbibing in Romania... after leaving the Magyars..

After spending some time in Hungary, Romania went by with a blur. Most of the time was spent just getting around from place to place hardly with time to settle in. Thus my chances for imbibing were far and few between.

However, I was in Sighişoara and there was a well known landmark. The old medieval village contains many famous sites that are UNESCO sanctioned, one being the house of Vlad Dracul. I am not going to spend details of who this person is cause I am sure you already know, but we were a bit tired and our thoughts wandered to the idea of putting our feet up and just having a drink. There was a place inside, and if we could ignore the Dracula figurine and reference to kitschy vampires that adorned the building we could at least relax and say well... we drank at Vlad's house.

I was told that in Romania you should have Black Beer. Black beer?? I thought? Sounds like a gimmick. What could be so distinctly different or unique about "black" beer? Well... really not much. I discovered on my travels that there were only two types of black beer. Both were literally identical to each other, cream colored heads, dark black in color, weak bodied, macro like produced. Not awful, but nothing truly different or memorable. They essentially tasted like typical Brown Ales without anything remarkable to write about. I was hoping I would be sinking my imbibing chops into something I never experienced beer wise... That... was wrong.

There are two known brands Ursus, and Silva. I suppose the Silva was slightly better not as alcohol palate tasting, but to say it was better than the other or a distinction that I would jump at the chance of ordering... that would be a big who gives a "****". Looking at the pictures the Silva has a lighter head color, if that means anything to you.

Ironically the most enjoyable and down right "whimsical" drink I had in Romania was courtesy of a cocktail that my wife ordered.

While in the Dracul house, kicking our feet up on tables that were too small... having to listen to techno music pumped in from a downstairs basement cafe that sold tiny pastries, we were presented with a menu that consisted of many items, but an interesting "Dracula" inspired cocktail was one that jumped off at us to sit back and relax and well... take in a drink as the rain came down.

Well... this tourist kitsch just doesn't get any more impressive than that doesn't it???

My wife ordered a cocktail inspired Dracula drink known as the "Vampire's Kiss". When my wife first ordered it, our waiter.. a rather young lad of barely 16+ years of age, came by and said sure, however then referencing in his best English then remarked, "I get other person... make it." He was implying that in this mode of sophistication that he could not make such a drink, which made me think he just never tried. He got someone else to do it for him in his panic of handling such a sophisticated production.

Nevertheless, someone else took care of business... while the young apprentice looked on behind the bar, as the older gentleman produced the libation. Not all the ingredients to the drink where disclosed in the menu, when I pressed for more information, I was told the drinks contents..... were a secret.

As I passed by while I consumed our appetizer of polenta I think called "mamaliga" consisting of a memorable piece of giant pork fat back, practically salt pork, we received the drink cocktail to imbibe on pictured here before you.

I must admit this cocktail that was made consisting of simple fruit juice, cheap vodka, and some basic wine, was very creative. There it was adorned with a giant impaling skewer through a lemon, as if blood (the wine) flowed on top hanging there in it's depths while the fruit sat juice sat on the bottom. There was even a flare to the skewer as if it commanded authority from Vlad himself.

Taste. Basic. Vodka, carton orange juice, cheap wine, not exactly high class ingredients, but the combination wasn't one that made you get out your gag reflex. No complaints, nothing sophisticated in palate, but a presentation worthy of applause and it felt like some thought really went in to showing this drink off that many cocktail purists here couldn't even touch. The drink seemed to have more eye candy appeal and thought in to it, then high glass ingredient cocktails I've had back home that looked just boring in appearance.

As we sat and finished our drink, I wondered if there was more I could do to imbibe in Romania.

Well it seemed like time wasn't going to give me that opportunity, or the research needed to find out. I did have some local cheap wine with dinner, but it consisted of a Merlot that was the equivalent of your typical Yellow Tail.

Not much to get excited about, but it will do the job when it's only 7 dollars a bottle (in a restaurant no less.. cheaper in the grocery store even more so).

Still.... there would be more imbibing to do, and lots to learn about when visiting another country I had poor assumptions about when it comes to drink. For the next country on the trip was Turkey... and some things ... just throw you for a loop and surprise you when you think the world Muslim and alcohol which when it comes to Turkey is a very ignorant assumption (Turkey is a secular nation, although pre-dominantly Muslim, however this blog is about the joy of drink, not about divisive politics and/or religion. The point is... the point is moot.). Turkey was a pleasant surprise for imbibing, and note even because of alcohol which yes Ginger... does exist there and is widely available! Guess what.... SHHHH... they even make their own!

Stay tuned...

In Tokaji Hungary, Imbibing is anything but BORing. Part 3

After some imbibing hell, it was time to go through imbibing nirvana. I had picked Hungary for my vacation because I "specifically" wanted to go to Tokaji's wine region. Hungary as I mentioned before is primarily a wine consuming nation. Bor, as wine is called in Hungary is also primarily white, but not all of it. In fact Hungary has been making white wine for centuries, and only started making red wine during the 16th century.

However, as there are many wine regions in Hungary to choose from, none is probably more well known and famous as the Tokaji region for its sweet wines particularly the ones known as Aszú. I could spend pages here talking about all the cellars I went to in Tokaji. There are several just within the town region, some are new, some aren't, but you can walk around from cellar to cellar trying wine till your legs fall off. There is also a wine bar nearby where you can just go to one place to have wine from several producers.

Contrary to popular belief, not all Tokaji wines are sweet they can be dry as well. There were 3 things that stuck out at me as I was visiting this region. One is that I was concerned going around to cellars and trying wine was going to break my pocket book. If anything it was opposite. Even the cheapest Tokaji wine is solid with a glass going for barely a few US dollar and it tastes anything but cheap. Secondly this was the first time I visited a European wine region and I was concerned that there would be a lot of pretentiousness and ego. This was not the case at all as producers let anyone taste their wine, many times giving it to me for free. Finally there was nothing NOTHING here that I tried, old, new, sweet, dry, cheap, expensive, that I found that wasn't worth consuming. There was not a single bad boring wine not worth tasting here, from going to a well established producer like Hétszőlő 1996 6 puttonyos Aszú, A Pincéset 1993 Aszúcencia, or visiting some persons small basement having wine out of a plastic jug.

It is hard to determine where to begin. Perhaps I'll mention an interesting characteristic. In the cellars of the hills there is a distinct mold that grows in the cellars that many believe creates a flavor to the wine. Also one of the other things is that the grapes used to make Aszú are made with botrytis grapes (a fungus), and those definitely impart a dramatic taste to the wine. Noble rot indeed!

As I mentioned you can have dry Tokaji wines, many are made with the Furmint varietal grape. In fact I had one of the most shocking dry wines here. I tasted a 1995 dry Furmint Vivamus Pincézet that had the nose of a caramel tawny port, but tasted like a great dry wine with acidity. In fact there are too many wines I had that I just can't talk about them all.

Wines had caramel, body, acid, mint, mango, butter, oak, floral notes, sugar, honey, hot pepper finishes, spice boxes, jam preserves, dried raisins, creme brulee, even Christmas fruitcake on the nose and/or palate. One of the Hímesudvar 2002 Aszú had legs so big that when swirled a concentric solid ring coated the glass, fell all consistently, and never even broke.

Wine is often served to you not just in the bottle but straight from containers, sometimes the barrels themselves. Often the proprietor will stick a long giant glass rod and siphon the liquid gold out for you, keeping their finger on the end of the rod and dispensing it into your glass.

Many of the cellars I went to had of course the distinct mold inside, but also they had another characteristic. Many people come and stick in the mold and walls many coins, some hang paper notes on strings, or leave other mementos of their visit. Soccer pennants was a common one I would see adorned on the walls, many of them hard to read as the mold would overtake them.

While first traveling in to Tokaji, the train goes by a very large vineyard which is part of Hétszőlő. Many times I went back here only having a hard time finding its tasting room. Turns out I was going to the actual production winery, and was directed to go in town to their tasting cellar which is the oldest in the town. In fact a Hungarian king was crowned inside its depths.

A young man who spoke the best English came out to talk with me about the companies operations. It was quite fascinating as he pointed out to me the bins of botrytis laced grapes, I could even eat them!

They were just finishing up harvesting, harvest time actually starts around early October and we were just coming to the end of it. I immediately then thought to ask a question, probably the one that makes the most sense when you visit any producer. "Did you have a good year?" which is what I asked, wondering if the harvest is going to produce really good quality wine. He mentioned to me that there was too much rain this summer and that they don't think it's going to be that great, however he did say they did have lots of fungus laden grapes, so those might actually be quite good.

I thanked the Hungarian guy who spoke English with a French accent about taking the time out to share with me some of the things going on at the winery. I hardly expected a big known producer to just do this with some ordinary tourists who were just walking around casually without a care in the world.

Hetzolo's wines are really good by the way.

That being said, I went to another cellar where something very interesting happened. We were just about done, stumbling back to our hotel, when we passed by a place and figured well why not we'll check it out. The wines were good, the place was messy. The cellar was filled with HUNDREDS of empty liquor bottles, everything from wine, to beer, to bottles of Bacardi. What is up with this place I thought? We were being siphoned wine from jugs which was quite fun, having a good time. Everything was inexpensive there was not pressure what so ever. Suddenly our host an older man, came to our table and placed a very old molded bottle on our table.

We had already been to several wineries, had enough wine at his place and I sort of quickly motioned him to stop pouring. He then spoke in his best English "mini" meaning he was just giving us a real small taste of something. And that something was really interesting as he pointed to the bottle on the table. He was pointing at the bottle on the table, and then our glass as to say this is what this is, please look. I glanced at the bottle and my jaw nearly hit the floor.

What he was pointing at was a 1962 bottle of Tokaji Aszú. I sort of sat there frozen. Did this guy just pour me a 50+ year old Aszú? I thought fast. Okay... the guy is old so maybe he did make this, check, but I didn't see him take this out of the barrel. Where was this magic wine coming from? He had to take it out of a barrel somewhere (which there were many in the cellar), but I did not witness this. The bottle didn't have a producers name on it. Was this fake? Regardless this was a gift he was letting me try, he wasn't asking me to pay for tasting it.

I stopped my paranoia and suddenly just got in to focus to taste the wine. I put behind all doubts and just took it in.

This is what it looks like to drink it...

And this is what it feels like after...

Having tasted the wine it was quite and experience. The wine had the bouquet of an incredibly caramel chocolate honey port. Taste was divine with the similar notes on the bouquet, but it had a certain acidity to it that ports just don't have, there was even some of trademark mold taste on it as well. This was unlike anything I have ever had in my life.

I am not sure though what happened. Is this for real??? I kept asking myself. There was a phone number on the bottle. How was that possible in 62? It was hard to get a phone in Communist times. Another producer when I asked him about how the vineyards survived during the Communist era told me many where flat out ripped out. What was going on here? Did the guy just buy basic port and put this in a barrel for a few years? Or was this hidden under wraps and continuously aged for decades with a label slapped on it later? I had to stop thinking about it and just enjoy the experience.

After all of that there was still much imbibing to consume the following day. I found that I really enjoyed the Sárgamuskotály and Hárslevelü varietals. Furmints were also just a good basic white wine grape, and a good Aszu is just spectacular (although tasting several of them can be a bit much, they are VERY sweet).

Probably though a good memory stood out on my visit which happened as my wife and I were making plans to leave our town and go on a long train ride to Romania.

We were stocking up on some food and drink for the train ride and walked into a store to buy some basic wine. It was in plastic giant 2L bottles and really cheap.

We realized that even the basic wines always offered a good time and a good place to be, whether its carefully crafted or just basically made. I think what got to me was that it seemed like making this wine that the people of this region inhabit seemed so effortless. Everyone just seemed to make wine and it was as if it was the easiest thing to do to such as putting socks on in the morning.

I wish it was so simple where I lived, and more importantly I wish I could do this so easily myself.

That said, the imbibing trip to Tokaji and also the imbibing portion of Hungary was complete. It was now time to go on to other lands and see what they offered.

Somehow I knew there was no place I was going between here and Istanbul that would produce drink better than Tokaji so I just had to sit back and enjoy the long train ride, and make my 2 litres of Muscat Tokaji last and last. It wasn't that hard really, you can do it elegantly....

Or just do it with reckless abandon...

Somehow I know Tokaji, I will be back. Can't wait for a return.

Wineries visited:

• Benkö Borház
• Hétszölö
• Hímesudvar
  
• Peter Csaladi Pincészet
• several small local cellars...

Some of the wines imbibed:

• 2003 Benkö Borház Tokaji Szamorodni (purchased)
• 2007 Hímesudvar Tokaji Furmint
• 2007 Hímesudvar Tokaji Sárgamuskotály
• 2006 Hímesudvar Tokaji Kövérszölö
• 2006 Hímesudvar Tokaji Furmint
• 2003 Hímesudvar Tokaji Cuvée
• 2002 Hímesudvar Tokaji Aszú
• 2009 Hétszölö Tokaji Furmint
• 2007 Hétszölö Tokaji Hárslevelü
• 2007 Hétszölö Tokaji Sárgamuskotály (purchased)
• 2005 Hétszölö Tokaji Édes Szamorodni
• 2003 Hétszölö Tokaji Forditás
• 2001 Hétszölö Tokaji Aszú 5 puttonyos
• 2001 Hétszölö Tokaji Aszú 6 puttonyos
• 2001 Hétszölö Tokaji Muskotalyos Aszú 5 puttonyos
• 1999 Hétszölö Tokaji Hárslevelü Aszú 6 puttonyos (purchased)
• 1996 Hétszölö Tokaji Aszú 6 puttonyos
• 2004 Peter Csaladi Pincészet Aszú 5 puttonyos
• 2003 Peter Csaladi Pincészet Aszú 3 puttonyos
• 2009 Peter Csaladi Pincészet Hárslevelü
• 2006 Peter Csaladi Pincészet Sárgamuskotály
• 2003 Furminit (producer forget)
• 1995 Vivamus Pincészet Szamorodni
• 1993 Vivamus Pincészet Aszú 6 puttonyos
• 2000 Vivamus Pincészet Aszúesszencia
  
• 1999 Andrássy Pincészet Tokaji Aszú 3 puttonyos
• 2008 Babits Pincészet Sárgamuskotály
• 2006 Babits Pincészet Cuvée
• 1993 Tokaj Hills Pincészet Aszúesszencia
• Giant bottle of Sárgamuskotály from Borostyán Pince non vintage
  
• 1962 unknown Aszúesszencia

If you want to share more knowledge of Tokaji and the wines from this region, please contact me.

Imbibe Hour hits the road in Hungary Part 1

It was time for a vacation. I do like to travel and visit foreign lands and set out to Europe again but to areas I thought would be interesting and perhaps not peoples first choices (like France, Spain, England etc..). Interesting is putting it mildly how the experiences came out. There were some good, some bad, but all of it highly memorable. They also provided opportunities to imbibe (in particular one stop that was a key destination I had desired for its wine) and much to write about. More on that soon...

My first stop was Hungary, and I landed first in the capital city Budapest. Arriving jet lagged from New York I took a private arranged ride from the airport, being whisked away through old gray buildings with highly decorated columns, narrow cobblestone sidewalks, and crossing the Danube to the Buda side of the city over one of it's many gorgeous bridges. My wife and I arrived at our hotel and the imbibing commenced almost immediately.

In our hotel room was some basic dry white wine, nothing too crazy to write up about but it was certainly nice to kick back and drink something after such a long flight. However, the next morning we were given a complimentary gift of bubbly at our first breakfast. The picture you see above is of a very common bubbly called BB semi/dry from Balaton Boglár. This one is described as a medium dry sparkling wine (you can't call it Champagne of course...) and it was fairly good. Crisp, sweetness to taste but a little sweeter than I expected for a "medium dry" but even some fruit. It reminded me of Chandon actually but the bottles cost a heck of a lot less if you buy it at the store, and its probably a better value than Chandon. So far the imbibing conquest was going well, so what else did I run into?

Well Hungary has beer. Yup no kidding.. who knew huh? Of course it has beer and there were many macro-brews that seemed to be common. Dreher was the one I seemed to find all over the country. Dreher is a Pillsner. So how is it? Actually fairly decent. Good color, excellent head, some decent lacing, some possible wheat smell (that doesn't mean necessarily there is wheat used in the beer. I am not sure.) on the nose and very faint citrus, but it has that sweet fakeness and felt some sweet possible corn-like taste also in the palate to myself. Decent lacing, not too carbonated either there was some hop finish but very faint. For a macro produced beer this was actually ok, and it's also quite cheap. I'd grade it a B- maybe C+ slightly better than average.

There are many other beers that you could get at probably any sort of supermarket to imbibe on. Yes you can get basic alcohol at pretty much any supermarket in Hungary. It's one of the many reasons I enjoy Europe because it is so easy to imbibe there. Quite often in Europe, the beer and wine is cheaper than water (which you have to pay for in restaurants). It makes for interesting days when you're not drinking water that's for sure.

There were other things to grab that seemed to be abundant as well besides beer and wine.
One of the most interesting finds in Hungary fell in the spirits category, the classic Eau Di Vie, or specifically a fruit brandy that is common known as pálinka. Pálinka comes in many flavors and I tried several. Things is they were all pretty much similar at least the ones I had pictured here. Big burn, and the fruit component on pálinka seems to be more of an aftertaste after swallowing, not a taste you feel on the palate at all. Problem with that is that they all start to taste the same. However, the apricot pictured here had the most flavor, the others were all fairly marginal, and the Bodza (I don't know what that is I think it is Black Currant) I really found kind of bitter and not very pleasant to drink. Doing some research here at home, it appears pálinka comes in varying degrees of quality depending on the producer which there seems to be many. This producer pictured here I believe is Szicsek. Left to right is Blackberry, Peach, Apricot, Cherry and I think Black Currant.

So after a few days things were starting off well on the imbibing trail, but is this really all there is for Hungary? Of course not. What I did know before going is that Hungary is primarily a WINE consuming nation, and there will be more about that soon... but first I had to go through an imbibing hell here and back first. I did live (although barely) to tell you the tale. Stay tuned my friends and I will tell you all about it.

For grace go with I and my date with Owen. Oregon's Pinot Noirs dominate Willamette valley as treasure to behold.

I love wine. God I love wine. There is so much to discern and enjoy when drinking wine that for me it is very easy to get overwhelmed. When visiting Oregon and the Willamette valley (to pronounce that correctly think of saying DAMIT! then WIL-AM-ETT!) which is known for it's Pinot Noirs, it's an experience of sensory greatness you don't mind. My other imbibing conquest while visiting the Portland area had to be wine. Pinot Noirs from this area are very well known and respected. The area is also getting known for it's other wines such as the Pinot Gris, Pinot Blancs and occasional Rieslings as well. This is without surprise because they are exceptional. Now I am not a huge Pinot Noir fan but I can see why this varietal here is so enjoyed. I could write about this for ages but I'll just have to keep it brief as I can, my note scribbles after 5 winery visits are chaotic, and it's just difficult sometimes to remember everything after tasting so much. I will try to get to the highlights as best I can describing my adventure. I will put up pictures of my notes along with the wineries which you can read which I hope will help, keep in mind that everyone has different palates, and you may not be able to make sense out of my scribbles. In a strange way to me though they do make sense. Well lets just get to the point. First if I could be blunt. NOTHING sucked, and secondly just about everything we had was an exceptional product. Yes I know that is probably not a good and intelligent way of describing and espousing the wonders that we enjoyed so let me continue further. The first place I went to was Four Graces with four wines to try (they were out of the Pinot Blanc it had been going fast!). The 2008 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir personally was my favorite at this place. It was very much as described by the write up given, but it even felt like it had slight faint hints of sweet tobacco and tea. It may have been my favorite of all the Pinot Noirs I tried because nothing was overbearing. However, there was more to visit, and while going up and down 99W everything was just a hop skip and a jump to go to the next winery. We arrived at Four Graces early (right when it opened) and many people were arriving just as we were leaving. It was getting VERY busy so it was a good time to go, but I certainly had to talk to a guy who was wearing a Four Roses hat to ask him about his trip to that Bourbon distillery. In short he said it was great, plus in a real beautiful place. Sometimes on the wine road you run in to other great tips!!!
My next stop was Dobbes Family Estate, which involved quite a selection. At this winery we tasted the most wines out of all the ones we visited.
Wines that stuck out in my memory and my notes were a simple 2009 Wine by Joe Pinot Blanc that had slight grass notes, tropical fruit, and a slight whiff of cane sugar. A 2008 Skipper's Cuvee Pinot Noir subtle bouquet with a great mouthfeel, soft, and with a finish and taste of chamomile or some other type of herbal tea. "How are things?" the woman behind the counter asked. After only 2 visits and several wines so far there was nothing to complain about whatsoever, and I instantly got jealous. This is because the closest wine region near me is Virginia, which while has its moments is just not on par with this region.
I closed the tasting at Dobbes with their "Mirror Image". It is essentially a Ruby Port, but they are not allowed to write or use the term PORT on their wine bottle. It has a huge strawberry type fruit nose on it to me, but it's not as sweet in taste as most ruby ports I've had, it even had a slight caramel finish. This was a ruby port I really enjoyed (I normally prefer Tawny's cause they are usually to me not as sweet and have more caramel toffee finishes that I enjoy).
Where was I heading next? Oh yeah... there were several to choose from, a place named Daedalus Cellars grabbed my attention. Problem was our basic wine region map was seriously lacking in details about where to find certain places. "Where is this place it should be right THERE" I said driving up an down back and forth, only to realize that one of their signs was really camouflaged on the side of the road, in a very small corner. Daedalus was hard to find, being in a really small location that could easily be missed, but it certainly is worth going to. For one thing you get to meet Marmadukes brother.
Upon entering the premises we were greeted by a giant great Dane who was very curious about us. And yes he was huge. However, as enjoyable and as much as I love dogs, and I never get to see dogs this big if ever, there was much wine hunting to do. There was a 2007 Maresh Vineyard Pinot Noir that had no fruit on it's bouquet to me but had this perfect smell of pipe tobacco. It reminded me of the old pipe ashtray stand my dad kept in the living room as a young kid before he broke that habit. However, there was a standout dessert wine made from Riesling grapes that was quite unique. Their 2008 Sweet (Dessert) Riesling is huge on apricots in the nose, not just apricot but DRIED to the rind apricot. It's as if the rind has been just getting baked in the sun and it burst with intensity. In the taste were peach notes and it didn't feel too high in sugars. It was a nice surprise to also find this wine offered at a local lunch establishment later.
By now it was close to our scheduled appointment. This for me wasn't just any appointment, it was something I had been hoping and planning for several months. So far the three places we visited were all open to the public with no appointments necessary. The next winery we were going to was by appointment only. About two years ago, I was at a wine tasting and had this incredible wine from a place called Owen Roe. Now off the top of my head I can honestly not remember what that wine was or its vintage, but it was one of the most favorite wines I ever had. I always felt if I had an opportunity to be in Oregon and the Portland area I HAD to visit. I made arrangements and spent weeks anticipating this. Problem was I thought I'd never find it. We drove and drove and we were getting late... oh dear god no PUHHLLLEAZE let me find this place! I called to make sure they knew we were still coming. I felt like I was ruining a date with a beautiful woman. We did find it, and they were not disappointed by our lateness whatsoever. In turn I tasted fantastic wine such as their 2008 Yakima Valley having hints of black tea, dirt/earth, and then giving way to a bouquet of a giant cigar box. AHhh... I was in my element.... But wait there was more. Our host brought out grapes for us which she described and allowed us to eat. This was the first time this ever happened when I visited a winery and it was a real pleasant surprise. She described that the proprietor picks these when they are really dimpled and the seed are big and have a nice crunch to them. And those seeds crunch! The grapes were just delicious unlike anything I've ever had a chance to sink my teeth into. Long story short, I bought a lot of wine here. After enjoying the grounds though I had to realize that I couldn't stay here all day in this cool sun Oregon day. DOESN'T IT RAIN IN PORTLAND?!?!? I keep asking myself.. Isn't it suppose to cold wet and miserable all the time??? This hardly felt like it at all. After devouring a fantastic lunch at Farm To Fork in Dundee we had one more place to go. We set out for Eyrie vineyards tasting room further on down the road one of the first and oldest vineyards in the Oregon area. I soon began to realize we never seemed to leave this highway.
We arrived very late and were the last people to arrive before closing. We were greeted by an older Frenchman I guessed from his accent who was more than happy to indulge us. It was more of the same great goodness as always. Here though the bouquets were very unique. I was asked my opinion of the first wine we tasted in comparison between two years. It was I "think" a Pinot Gris off pictured to the left in my photo (90 points), comparing 2007 and 2008. I mentioned that the first was more fruit forward, but the second bottle's nose was dramatically different and masked by some type of smoke characteristic. He looked at me in a way of amazing fascination. "Please hold on", he said. I figured oh oh what's going on? The man grabbed a handle from nearby to pour himself a quick glass from a machine that essential resembled a soda fountain for adults. He was testing both wines. "Please sir" I said, "nothing is wrong with them" in just a quick remark, figuring that he thought maybe I was complaining (this is something I would never try to do). He replied back to me, expunging into a boston shaker, "you're comments are really interesting to me." Really??? Suddenly I was engaged in a real serious discussion and he was engaging me in every wine we tried. Some of the things he talked about involved me picking out fruit more prominent compared to barrels, or vintage, but I have to admit he was getting into some real specifics that get into the nitty gritty of making wine that I just couldn't keep up with and went over my head. He used a term that at first threw me in contrasting the two vintages. He said this one is much "rounder". Ironically as soon as he said this the first thing that popped into my head was the word.. no joke... "beachball". what? Wines don't have beachballs what's going on here? I had to sit and think about what he was saying and he was right, it was a bigger profile I guess, although it didn't explain this faint smoke almost ashen air I got off this one glass. We moved on to the NV La Luz which I thought had this tart rotten fruit smell almost like a rotten crabapple hinting at a buried brown sugar sweetness (that's not a bad thing). The gentlemen once again grabbed a taste to compare and talk with me again, we were in some real good discussion about comparisons. By the time we got to the Daphne, and other Pinot Noirs, the bouquets on these were really unique from the other cherry, berry, plum, fruit, spice notes of the other Pinot Noirs we tasted previously from other makers which were still stamping their mark as Oregon Pinots. When I mentioned two of the Pinots had a sweet red vermouth quality to them, one of them on the nose literally smelled like Campari without the bitterness, he was grabbing at the soda fountain quickly. I figured I was going to drive this guy insane, but he was actually just having a good time as we talked at length about what was in front of us. We bought a bottle 2005 Pinot Noir Reserve, made from a clone (Pommard), to me it had hints of rosehip tea very faint though not overpowering. The gentlemen pointed to pictures of regions where we were tasting our wine from, asking us our personal favorites, sometimes excitedly pointing as if he could tell which branch of that vine it was coming from. Something really struck me about this even though we were the last people there and they had closed. I got the most pleasant vibe that this person just didn't want us to leave. With that we settled back only to be reminded of what a good wine region and its people can offer. A place like Oregon and the people who inhabit it make this all incredibly worthy and memorable.