white wine

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Hungry for Hungary
Eew – somehow the pun of Hungry and Hungary has managed to jump the couch, even for lovers of lousy puns like myself. Fortunately, the grapes behind this wine save the day. Furmint, the undisputed queen of Hungary is the famous partner in this duo, and Harslevelu is somehow forgotten, likely due to the unpronouncable nature of the grape. Hars-level-u. That’s how I’ll remember it.

Furmint though is the centerpiece of this wine, even though clocking in at only 50% of the grape content. Next to the Hungary Water Polo team, this could be the finest item to emerge EVER from Hungary. Tokaji isn’t this wine but you could be mistaken from the bottle since that Tokaj looks awfully like Tokaji.

Tokaji is rightly the pride of Hungary, so much so that it’s mentioned in the Hungarian national anthem. To quote: “On Tokaj’s vine stalks you have dripped nectar.” Rightly sung, Hungary. Rightly sung. This wine dates back to nearly the Hapsburgs and has produced exceptional wine ever since. Actually, ALMOST ever since since apparently there was a big Communist 40-year fling when all the grapes had to be blended together and the wine ended up mediocre. This being before my wine-drinking time, you’ll have to take the capitalists’ word for it.


Grapes

Furmint gets talked about a lot with its dessert wines, and Harslevelu generally gets treated as the kid with the last name Zhang in elementary school. Last alphabetically and forgotten about by other (luckier) kids with more alphabetically-inclined names, Harslevelu is somewhat intriguing as being a crucial, if lesser known component, of the great Hungarian wines. Described by wikiwriters as “intense aroma of spice, pollen and elderflowers,” this wine pretty much hits all the big things that drew me to wine. Plus, it has a facebook page. 9 people even like it – that’s almost double digits. Still, if you ever see that there’s a 100% Harslevelu available, please mail it immediately. Post will be paid.

Taste
So, 50% Furmint, 50% Hars-level-u, from Hungary, from Tokaj. Smells and looks light but BIG peach with pear throughout and big sweetness that fills up the mouth. Long lasting sweet peach finish. Could be in Savannah with Ty Cobb sipping on sweet tea and spiked cleats.

Detail Up!
Hetszolo Tokaj Late Harvest 2007

Random Googles
* Only six grapes are approved for Tokaji: Furmint, Harslevelu, Yellow Muscat, Zeta, Koverszolo, and Kabar.
* Together, Furmint and Harslevelu constitute 90% of the wine in Aszu, fabled wine region of Hungary
* King Louix XIV incorrectly termed Tokaji the “Wine of Kings.” Catherine the Great led by example in sending soldiers to protect the vineyards. Hence, it’s the “Wine of Queens.”

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“Ma ma ma MY Madeira”
Malmsey holds a special place in my liquor cabinet. Hint – it’s near the front. It’s crazy sweet but isn’t at all cloying, and is pretty much indestructible (my bottle is 2 years old and survived life in a 95 degree closet in Panama). It works for pre-dinner, during dinner and (especially) after-dinner, and holds up against even the stickiest, gooiest desserts.

Still, there’s more to my infatuation, and that’s thanks to a nerdy love of history. Malmsey is a grape (the sweetest grape!) used in Madeira, quite possibly the finest and most unique style of wine in existence. Just ask that fired NPR guy his opinion on the matter – he knows.

Baked Wine
Madeira is baked wine, discovered when a case of regular wine accidentally got forgotten in the bottom of a boat that sailed from Portugal across the Atlantic, made its tour of several stops in the Caribbean and headed home to Portugal. Once back to the first stop home – the island of Madeira 500 miles off the coast of Africa – the Portuguese discovered their wine that had been sloshing around in the hold in 90+ degree heat for the last half year. Turns out, it was delicious.

Estufagem
No longer does Madeira make its trip through the tropics (except my Panama-purchased bottle, apparently) though. Instead, they’ve developed a process called “estufagem” that simulates a long, hot sea voyage minus the mermaid mirages. Essentially, they bake the wine – probably the single most important thing to avoid when you’re handling normal wine.

Matt Damon does Madeira

Heat and wine are like Sarah Palin and Matt Damon. It just seems wrong and really, it is. But then, wine surprises you. Out of nowhere, it starts ripping into heat for believing that dinosaurs roamed the earth 4,000 years ago and becomes something even more beautiful. That’s Madeira – Matt Damon heated up about Sarah Palin.

Taste
Malmsey is that present you give to people who had such sweet tooths that they lost their teeth and now have sweet dentures. This particular one lives up to the sweet hype with lots of raisin and burnt caramel, a tiny drop of coffee, some orange zest smells wafting in, and a really long finish of lots more caramel.

Detail Up!
Blandy’s Madeira – Malmsey Reserve 5 years

Random Googles:
* George Washington loved Madeira best. Other wines wept.
* Malmsey > Bual > Verdelho > Sercial, the sweetness order of Madeira (“My Bottle Vesuviates Sweetness” is the mnemonic device).
* People call anything Malmsey these days. The Malmsey Madeira grape is aka “Malvasia Candida,” one of 12 different types of Malvasia in Portugal.

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Albilla is a mystery grape that remains a mystery to me despite my best attempts to internet it into transparency. Clearly, there is a grape Albilla and clearly it’s grown in sufficient quantities to produce pisco, even when it’s done in the much more laborious Mosto Verde way (see pic above for our first clue). The internet agrees, pointing out that Albilla is a light-skinned, slightly-sweeter grape “widely grown in Peru.” It’s listed among the “aromatic” grapes that go into Pisco (“aromatic” meaning they’re great to smell, in contrast to the “pure” grapes where you don’t smell much). Albilla piscos have been increasing in popularity the last two years. It used to be very rare to see a Pisco bottle labeled “Albilla” but now several wineries make straight-up “Albilla” piscos: Cuatro Gallos, Tacama and Viñas de Oro to name a few.

Taste
So, it’s a local grape grown just in Peru. It smells like flowers (violets), tastes like bananas and rose petals and then, in a weird twist, just when the wine seems like it’s gone, it stops for tea. Black, oolong, Lipton 99 cent tea? Not sure – will leave that to tea-lovers but I swear this Albilla has a crazy long finish of tea.

Back to the Mystery
However, half a world away, Spain happens to have a grape called “Albilla” that it grows in small, very localized quantities. It’s called “one of the best guarded secrets in Spain” and is practically impossible to discover outside of Spain. Taste-wise, it has a penetrating aroma and a yellow-golden color with a slightly sweet taste. Sound familiar?

Digging deeper into this rabbit hole, there’s an oblique reference in a Peruvian food journal that mentions the following:
“In 1553, Don Francisco de Caravantes brought to Peru the first wine grapes of the type Albilla, coming from the Canary Islands, which were planted in the outskirts of Lima with good results as well as in towns in the highlands, but the grapes took root much better in the valleys in the south, especially in Ica, Moquegua and Tacna.”

Canaries, War and Albilla

Now, I’m far from an expert on Pisco, but as an amateur Pisco lover, I do know that these are the regions in Peru where Pisco grows and the regions in Chile where it grows would never be mentioned in a Peruvian food journal due to a fantastic historical memory on both sides of the border of the the year 1879 A.D. And, when I look into the kinds of grapes that grow in the Canary Islands there’s this book that lists some general names (black, white, etc.) but specifically mentions Albilla.

Coincidence? CONNECTION! Although I’d love to be proven wrong if someone has a better story, until then, this is my story of a grape from Spain, routed through the Canary Islands, sailing into Peru and Chile and hiding out for 500 years among better known grapes. It’s my personal Mystery of Albilla.

Detail Up!
Cuatro Gallos Pisco Mosto Verde Albilla

Random Googles
* This page has the most complete information about Albilla on the web. As of today.
* Pisco Sour Day is an actual holiday in Peru. You can use Albilla in a sour but since it’s an aromatic, it’s better on its own.
* Albilla shows up in a new production of fizzy Peruvian wine by Viña Tacama. It’s geared at the “feminine market” (like me) and has lower alcohol.

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Moscato d’Asti is a semi-fizzy dessert wine if wine shops and their 15% off sales on “dessert wines” are to be believed. In my opinion, it barely qualifies as either. The wine is barely fizzy, although it has a few bubbles that sneak to the top of the glass like rogue spies. Perhaps they call it a dessert wine since it’s a sweet wine, and yes, it is sweet. But when I think of dessert wines, I think of high levels of alcohol to kick the night into full gear and well out of second gear. This wine, clocking in at 5.5% alcohol, puts that pre-gaming rush into the pitstop. This should be a pre-dinner wine for chocolate and sweet lovers who are easing into their meal, not the last stop before $1 pizza cravings kick in.

Taste
Even with my gripe on the misnomer, this wine delivers in all kinds of ways. There’s the bit of fizz that’s barely noticeable in the deadly flirty way that hands touch hands in movie theaters, and there’s the taste of moderate, refined flavors. Peach, rose and pear sprout in the nose, then there’s a whole lychee swimming pool that shows up in your mouth and some sage and herbs sprout after the lychee lagoon drains away. None are too overpowering, they’re just really different flavors that somehow pull together into a wine that defines its “dessert wine” label.

Grape
Think of Moscato (or Muscat) as the Abraham of wines. Pretty much all wines started with Abraham and then branched off from there (Ur being Piedmont, apparently) into all kinds of crazy Muscat-type wines. This particular wine is Moscato d’Asti (Muscat from Asti, up in Piedmont), which is made from the grape Moscato Bianco (“White Muscat”). I’m confused myself with all these Muscat names, but looking at the color of this wine (white) and where it’s from (Asti), the names are starting to make sense. Anyway, there are all kinds of wines that come from this Jacob-branch of the family, even other sparkling wines made from Moscato Bianco like Asti Spumante. Plenty of other Muscats exist on the Esau-side of the vini-family tree but it’s best to leave them for another day. Today’s all about Jacob and his Moscato Bianco.

Detail Up!
Moscato d’Asti 2009 Vigna Senza Nome

Random Googles
* “Muscat Blanc a Petits Grains” is French for “Moscato Bianco.” It goes by at least 10 other names, the best of which is “Muskateller.”
* Moscato Bianco is the oldest grape in Piedmont (that hambone chunk in the NW that bumps into France and Switzerland).
* Moscato d’Asti – first made by a wine-loving jeweler in the 1500s. Fact.

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Ortrugo must truly be an obscure grape, and I can prove it. First point, there are no good pictures of it on the internet, meaning it barely exists in the Web 2.0 world. Second point, the restaurant had only bottle of this stuff and said that it’s only grown in Piacenza, which is really far west in that shaded map above (seriously, no good pics). Third and most damning point, wikipedia had the name wrong (ortruga) on the Colli Piacentini page (“hills of piacenza”) that mentioned the various grapes grown in the region, of which only Ortrugo did not have a wikipage. If I’m the one fixing the wikipage, it’s really the apocalypse of the internet.

The restaurant wasn’t lying when they said it’s only around Piacenza. All the blogs that talk about Ortrugo grape discuss a foreigner stumbling across Ortrugo in bucolic Italy, discovering its slightly fizzy zest and having their (presumbly sun-drenched) afternoon be completed like Jerry McGuire in the elevator. My experience couldn’t have been more different. Restaurant called Uva on the UES, freezing cold outside, after work in a suit, sitting at the bar alone, waiting for a friend. Find the romance in that one, Italy. All mawkish-ness aside, this Kyle Phillips guy wrote one informative post on Ortrugo and he’d have made the RSS feed if his last post wasn’t from July 2010. Well-worth the read (ed. note: for those who read the link while it lasted), especially if you like getting an actual description of how the different types of Ortrugo taste.

Taste

At the basic level, Ortrugo can be semi-fizzy or still (frizzante or tranquilo, in what I presume is Italian). It can be straight (like all good alcoholic beverages) or blended (usually with Malvasia). My particular wine was fizzy and unblended, like a champagne gone right. I was thinking flowers and tart apple, maybe with a bit of rounder fruit like a peach, but mostly apple. Little fizzy, lot of tart, lot of apple and, not too rounded – this is definitely my style of wine. Not sure where you find this wine other than Uva.

Detail Up!
Cantine bonelli Ortrugo Fizzante


Random Googles

* Colli Piacentini wins the “Wine for Dummies” award for Emilia’s “most renowned wine district” (no really, it’s in the “Wine for Dummies” book)
* Trebbianino Val Trebbia is an important wine that only Italian wikiusers care about. It has Ortrugo and comes from Piacenza.
* Known aliases of Ortrugo include: Trebbiano Romagnolo, Altrugo, Barbesino and Vernesino Bianco.

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