A Visit to La Chiripada Winery

The Spanish word chiripa means "stroke of luck." In the traditional dialect of northern New Mexico, the word is rendered chiripada. Some folks came to possess a patch of land in Dixon, NM, in the late 1970s, and decided to plant grape vines. Then they made wine one year. Not up to snuff. They tried again the following year. ¡Chiripada!

The vineyards and winery have been owned and operated by that same family ever since.

I visited La Chiripada in Dixon to remind myself what it is about New Mexican wine that is uniquely intriguing. The answer lies in the land: simultaneously sweet and spicy, rugged at first but friendly before very long, proudly standing up on its own but rich in rewards for those who taste of it. This holds true whether in reference to harvesting any of the scores of fruits, vegetables, herbs, and spices that grow in great abundance all over the region, or trekking among the most scenic hills and valleys that the country has to offer. This terroir does indeed make its wine, and we can be very grateful for it.

Producer: La Chiripada

Name: Special Reserve Riesling

Varietal: Riesling

Region: New Mexico, USA

Vintage: 2011

Tasted: August 17, 2012

ABV: 11.5%

The staff is very welcoming and the tasting room is a lovely atmosphere to both sip and chat about wine. The first wine that I tried was the 2011 Special Reserve Riesling, an estate wine. The aroma is sweet, fruity. It is acidic without being citric; when sniffing it, I imagined biting into a green fruit such as an apple. The palate does include citrus, though, and a few floral notes as well. It is sweet, and just a tad on the thick side. The finish is a delightful surprise, with notes of nectarine, papaya, and mango. All-in-all, it is quite as a Riesling should be.

Producer: La Chiripada

Name: Primavera

Varietals: Muscat 50%; Seyval Blanc 50%

Region: New Mexico, USA

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 17, 2012

ABV: 12%

Next up was the 2010 Primavera. I am told that the Seyval Blanc is a hybrid of Sauvignon Blanc and a strain of Vitis labrusca. The inclusion of a New World variety was intriguing and, it turns out, a keen idea. The Primavera offers a jumpy, lively nose with a full bouquet of flowers and some slight citrus notes around the edges. When sipping it, the mouth finds itself awash in nice, smooth orange blossom, with everything going down easy. The finish is its own elaborate production: the tasting notes take a step back, and then another, and then another, and soon, conspicuously but quite suavely, they have disappeared completely, leaving the taster quite ready to replenish his taste buds’ supply of the good stuff.

Producer: La Chiripada

Name: Río Embudo Red

Varietals: Cabernet Sauvignon 10%; Leon Millot 80%; Pinot Noir 10%

Region: New Mexico, USA

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 17, 2012

ABV: 13%

With two whites down, I was ready for some red. The 2010 Río Embudo Red, an estate wine, appropriately named for the river running through La Chiripada’s backyard, is billed as a perfect complement to Moroccan-spiced lamb. And is it ever! One can forgive the nose for thinking that a thousand tiny arrows of spice have been launched right at it from the glass. This can be a shock, but never mind, the glass's quiver empties out soon enough, and the nose finishes off with floral tones and a touch of fruit.

It is in this Río Embudo Red that the terroir resonates most. Notes of pine surround flush hints of the local flora: combinations of leaves and flowers, fruit and bark, herbs and spices, all fresh and sweet and harmoniously arranged together in an amazing expression of just how pure and beautiful and rich in earthly delights Dixon really is. The spice and sweetness coexist in a friendly balance, and though a tad dry, the wine is plenty smooth. It tries to specify a couple of particular flavors, rhubarb and hibiscus, for itself in the finish, but not before one has romped about in the hills and valleys of the Río Embudo and tasted of all that they have to offer.

Producer: La Chiripada

Name: Vintners' Reserve Red

Varietals: Ruby Cabernet 37%; Tempranillo 63%

Region: New Mexico, USA

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: August 17, 2012

ABV: 13%

After my mouth had a chance to descend back to ground level, it was recommended that I try the Vinters' Reserve Red. My kind readers may be wondering how I could fairly assess the merits of another red after being blown away by a different wine shortly prior. I myself was wondering just how the Reserve would perform. Excellently, it turns out. The Ruby Cabernet, a hybrid of Cabernet Sauvignon and Carignan, provides some clutch structure and depth, but the Tempranillo really shines through in the best way. The aroma is a refreshing blend of various red fruits and berries with blackberry in the forefront. The sweetness hits at the perfect angle. When sipped, the wine goes to work on the palate in the same way, full of delicious red everything. Strawberry has center stage now, and the wine is just an iota drier than when it was sniffed. Quite wonderful. Then, for the finish, the same notes briefly feint a linger before suddenly disappearing without a trace. Confound it, where did that flavor go? I want it back! Better have another sip… Ahh.

These La Chiripada wines certainly do have a way of including a dramatic flair on their way out.

At this point I took a tour of the winery. Josh Johnson, a second generation member of the La Chiripada family, was kind enough to show me around and answer some questions. They were only about a week into the harvest and had just begun the winemaking process that day. As a bladder press crushed some Chenin Blanc, it occurred to me that winemaking has none of the romance and double the coolness that everyone thinks. "See, most of these grapes won't be ready for harvest for another month or so," said Josh as he took a breather from washing tubs and pushing them onto a platform. "Actually, well, we've had a sort of drier season this year." He motioned toward the field of vines, which stretched from five yards in front of us to a point where, to the eye at least, they meld with the Río Embudo. "Maybe they'll be ready a little sooner."

Producer: La Chiripada

Name: Cañoncito Red

Varietals: Leon Millot 90%; Nebbiolo 10%

Region: New Mexico, USA

Vintage: 2011

Tasted: August 17, 2012

ABV: 13%

I returned inside to taste one more red before departing. This was unplanned, but I saw that the Cañoncito Red, an estate wine, includes Nebbiolo, and there was no resisting the urge to see how that grape fares on this side of the Pond. The 2011 opens with an enticing aroma of tart fruit. It was served chilled, and the nose combined with the refreshing coolness made me think right away of lounging outdoors on a hot day, eating a bowl of chilled apple and citrus slices, and sipping this wine. The palate is sweeter, and the texture smooth and thick. It has a long finish, which is also appropriate for lounging on a lazy summer day. The Leon Millot, another hybrid of European and American species, is a bit dominant due to the percentages. But the Nebbiolo really rounds it out great, and I was very glad to have tasted it.

The foothills of northern New Mexico have a great deal to offer. What with all of the museums, historical sites, shopping, culture, dining, music, dancing, walking, hiking, skiing, swimming, rowing, fishing, cycling, etc. to be done in the legendary expanse from Albuquerque to Santa Fe to Taos and beyond, not everyone will find it important to stroll into a small town with barely a handful of paved roads and a couple of thousand locals, just to see if those particular hills happen to have anything special to offer that cannot be found elsewhere. That is a shame, because they do. The land of Dixon, though close kin to the larger Río Grande valley, is a splendor all its own. Fortunately, even those who do bypass the Turnoff on their way between Santa Fe and Taos can sip wine from La Chiripada. It will bring them to the real thing in spirit, if not eventually in person.

Why Do We Drink Tea?

I was sitting in my very gracious host's backyard the other morning, in a wooden Adirondack chair along a grassy bank of the Río Grande. It was warm, the sky was clear, and the wildlife was performing a traditional symphony. The New Mexico air, at 6,000 feet, was fresh, crisp, and delicious, and the way in which the residents of Embudo assiduously meld their comfortable abodes into original wilderness - expressly not vice versa - rounded out the purity of the experience. The scene was complemented by an apple that I picked on the way over and a cup of green tea. Perfect.

Why do we drink tea? That is a deceptively deep question. Tea does not slake thirst; we have water for that. Is it for the caffeine? Coffee has more. Is it because it tastes good? So do beer, soda, and orange juice. Heck, if taste is the criterion, then we may as well go all out and drink chocolate milk all day. Perhaps we enjoy sampling the myriad fine varieties sourced from distinct origins and prepared in different ways. But surely coffee is good for that, too, and wine is even better. Ah, I know, it must be because of how tea makes us feel on the inside. Yes, it does make us feel quite lovely; more than just hitting the spot, it soothes and relaxes, focuses and sets straight, provides a key piece of the wherewithal by which we disengage the various forces in this world allied against our sanity. But, then again, so does a nice red wine with dinner, or cold lemonade suddenly offered up on a sweltering afternoon, or warm apple cider following a long morning of snow shoveling, or a nice, slowly-sipped, single-malt scotch after a long week of grinding out the same old nonsense.

The fact is, tea is very good for all of the above as much as anything else; except perhaps for quenching thirst or pumping us full of stimulants, tea takes a back seat to nothing. Even as I gave alternate examples, it was obvious that tea belongs by the very top of each list. But none of those criteria really gets to the heart of the question of why tea is consumed so much more than other beverages, why we love it so much, why it will never cease to be the ultimate liquid delicacy.

Perhaps that will always remain a mystery, one of those earthly phenomena on which mankind cannot quite put its finger. But at the risk of trying to describe something for which our mortal lexicon is insufficient, I would like to take a stab at it.

Tea is, to me at least, the consummation of nature's offer of harmony and balance. Growing tea is uncertain and painstaking work; picking it much more so. Once the physical labor under nature's auspices is complete, the mental labor under human tradition begins, and the leaves are treated in a very precise manner, made just right, as they have been for centuries. When consumed, the tea stimulates enough, but not excessively, and can even make us feel calm. It is healthy without posing as one of those "super-foods." It tastes good without being a sugar-packed blast of gastronomic garbage. It feels good without inducing that craven, pathetic state of hollow depravity with which we are all too familiar. Tea caresses the mouth, applying perfect proportions of tannins and mellow florals onto the taste buds, which come right on time as the nose is at the peak of appreciating the rich, smile-creating aroma. On its way down, the tea leaves just enough reverberation on the flanks of the tongue to let us know that we want another sip, without plastering the mouth in a mealy film as a desperate ploy to make us consume more. Hot on a cold day, tea is known to define coziness; on a hot day, drinking it iced can refresh with the best of them. It can be drunk plain or flavored to exquisiteness; it can be drunk alone or be the centerpiece of a social occasion.

Muscle and brain; nature and civilization; toil and reward; stimulation and serenity; health and humility; flavor and modesty; depth and ease; pleasure and control; heat and coolness; individual and community; balance and harmony.

And much, much, much delight.

2009 JP Azeitão Tinto

Producer: Bacalhôa

Name: JP Azeitão Tinto

Varietals: Aragonez 20%; Castelão 70%; Syrah 10%

Region: Península de Setúbal, V.R., Portugal

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: August 9, 2012

ABV: 14%

The 2009 JP Azeitão Tinto by Bacalhôa is a great red all-around, but perhaps the most fun that I am having in reviewing it is thinking of ways to describe its color. It is a rich red, strong; one cannot glimpse through it too easily. It is matte, yet deep; though it does not shimmer or gleam, it is quite powerful and entrancing. It is a red for the wealthy, connoting neither old money nor new money, simply a lot of money. A Cadillac CTS coupe could do no better with any other hue in the universe than with this red. It is a red that makes red velvet seem insufficiently red and insufficiently velvety.

Seriously.

The 2009 JP Azeitão Tinto is an example of the uniqueness of Portuguese wines. Syrah is grown almost everywhere and Aragonez is just another name for Tempranillo, but seventy percent of this wine is Castelhão, which, like most Portuguese varietals, was originally brought to that land millennia ago by the various Mediterranean empires looking for ever more soil to grow grapes and make the good stuff. Many varieties predate the Romans and even the Greeks, having arrived on Iberia's western coast with Phoenicians carrying Middle Eastern grapes. No wonder, then, that this wine does not taste like yet another blend of the same old Syrah-and-whatever.

Most countries' respective wine laws make for great case studies of how sound criteria can produce arbitrary results, and Portugal's are no exception, to judge by the 2009 JP Azeitão Tinto. Portuguese wines fall into four tiers of appellation. The lowest is table wine; vinho regional ("regional wine," of which Península de Setúbal is one) is one notch above that. Embedded within the Península de Setúbal region are two sub-regions with the highest level of appellation, but alas, the grapes used to make this wine grew outside those boundaries. Evidently, the Portuguese appellation system tells us nothing about how good the wines actually are.

This tinto opens with a nose mostly of redcurrant. It is a mild aroma, and yet roomy enough to fit a medley of other notes here and there - peaches, McIntosh apples, tree bark - that together give the impression of walking through a grove of deciduous trees shortly before autumn. The palate is much stronger than the nose; here one begins to experience the 14% ABV. The prominent note is pomegranate. Is that a hint of cherry? Yes. And that other note, is that spearmint? No, that is just the wine giving the taster a swift kick in the tongue. Surprisingly, there are not too many tannins. Medium bodied, the JP Azeitão comes off at first like a dry wine, but that is just a bit of dissembling on the part of the spice. It is actually sweet, a feature that is reinforced as the wine goes down the throat nice and smoothly. The finishing notes are plum, cherry, and strawberry.

After twenty minutes of breathing, the wine pulls a fast one on the taster by flipping one hundred eighty degrees. The palate is much mellowed, but the nose picks up a real bite, giving off aromas of plum, redcurrant, and hibiscus. The body is still medium but, with simple flavors of cherry and red berries, the wine is smooth on the tongue. There is some vestigial spice left, but not very much at all. The finish, still going down easy, is blackberry.

So, Portugal's appellation system rates this delicious, complex, versatile, playful wine, full of personality, energy, and spunk, engaging to the max, as hardly above a quaffer. Tsk-tsk to Portugal's appellation system.

Gentle Brew Windsor Blue Blend

Type: Windsor Blue Blend

Origins: Brazil 50%; Sumatra 50%

Roaster: Gentle Brew

Roast: Dark Brown

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

Gentle Brew has a wonderful spot right on Park Avenue in Long Beach, New York. The combination coffee shop/café is nicely decorated, yet simple; there is nothing to distract from the wonderful cups of coffee that they prepare and serve.

When I first went in there some weeks ago, I did not realize right away that they actually roast the coffee themselves, but I really should have known. There are a dozen or so different types of machines for brewing coffee, grinders (all prepared coffee is freshly ground), tables and chairs, some artwork, and shelves stocked with hardware and packages of coffee. And one will get around to admiring all of that shortly after marveling at how awesome it is that there are huge sacks of raw coffee beans right in the middle of the store. I had thought that those were just a nice aesthetic touch.

"Hey, not for nothing, but is this coffee expired?" I asked, pointing at a date on a package of coffee that was, at the time, three days in the past. Turns out that it was the date on which the coffee had been roasted, something written on all packages. "Oh, cool. So how do you get it here so quick?" (I have my moments. That was not one of them.) They patiently explained that they prepare everything on premises, beginning with the raw beans. And indeed they do it all: beans from the world over, light/medium/dark, regular and decaffeinated, on and on. In other words, sourced globally, roasted locally. It was even mentioned, without my asking, that they can do custom roasting.

So, I have been going there quite often to have a cup of coffee and relax, but then I thought that I would like to take a packet of coffee home and try it on the press. So I did. And man, it is excellent!

The Windsor Blue blend opens with a smooth aroma – yes, the aroma is so rich that it has a positively smooth feel to it – of earthy tones and hints of cashew and citrus. The taste is on the bitter side, with negligible acidity and a bold flavor of earthiness plus a slight touch of smoke. It is very smooth and very rich, and maybe a little bit syrupy. It finishes nicely with notes of cashew. The flavor fades seamlessly, leaving the mouth in a bit of suspense. Was that last bit of nuttiness a farewell gift or a portend of things to come? Eh, best to leave that question to the philosophers and just enjoy another sip of the good stuff.

Windsor Blue is a coffee person's coffee. This is not to be confused with a café person's coffee, which has its perks (pun definitely intended), but which can be described as cute, decorative, chock full of so many flavors and frills that there is barely any room left for the brew – in short, an accessory to a larger, somewhat removed scene. No, Windsor Blue is definitely for coffee people: rich, original, authentic, all about the coffee. It is rugged without being brash. It does not try too hard; it does not have to. It tastes just like a real cup of coffee, and that is that.

The fact that Windsor Blue is a coffee person's coffee should come as no surprise, since Gentle Brew is owned and operated by coffee people. They know exactly what they are doing, they love to talk about coffee, and they are finding much well-earned and well-deserved success. Mazel tov to the whole excellent enterprise.

Guayakí Organic Traditional Yerba Mate

Origins: Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil

Type: Yerba Mate

Purveyor: Guayakí

Preparation: Two teaspoons put into an empty mug (about eight-ounce size), no bag or steeper, a little cold water added, stirred with a bombilla, rest of mug filled with approximately 150-degree water, sipped with bombilla

Yerba mate is really cool. It is a tisane in that it is not Camellia sinensis, but it is naturally caffeinated, and it certainly tastes more like a beverage that was meant to be brewed than like a dessert tray pureed with a little too much water and sugar, as many herbals are apt to taste. The traditional drink (or, at least, a traditional drink) of the Native Americans in sub-tropical South America, yerba mate remains a staple there, and has found its way to much of the rest of the world as well.

Yerba mate is traditionally drunk out of a hollowed out gourd. I have one, but it is a pain in the neck to clean, so I use a mug. I do, however, use the bombilla, also part of the tradition, which is a metal straw through which the liquid is drunk. (For those wondering, it is indeed possible to burn one’s lips on it, but that is unlikely to happen more than once.) Preparation should be as described above when using loose tea. The cold water helps manifest many elements of the tea, including not only compounds such as caffeine and anti-oxidants, but also those that give the tea is lovely flavor. After the hot water is poured in, there is no need to wait more than a few seconds for the tea to steep. It is ready to go.

A fancy-schmancy example of a gourd & bombilla.

Guayakí has done some remarkable stuff with yerba mate, but I generally prefer the simple and original things in life, and therefore keep the "traditional" version in my home. The leaves are chopped in all ways, with some fragments the size of a SIM card, and others practically powder. They are pale greenish tan, not at all unlike the color of American military uniforms between Desert Storm and the present day.

Yerba mate has an aroma and flavor all its own, and it is much more difficult to describe than the notes of coffee or black tea. The steam coming off of the tea smells very earthy, very malty, and very woodsy, with a tinge of smokiness. The color of the liquid, which is a little bit thinner and lighter in body than a brew made from Camellia sinensis, is the same as the color of the leaves. The flavor is bitter, but smooth, consistent, almost tannic even. It has plenty of malt, and a hint of the floral. Both the aroma and flavor, but especially the aroma, will make one reminisce about spending time outside in a wooded area after a rain, though one will not be able to put his finger on exactly what situation that was. (This has been confirmed by many.) The liquid has minimal structure, just enough so that the flavor can do all the heavy lifting; and indeed, while the body is light, the flavor is rich. It goes down easy, being so light in body, and leaves an aftertaste as smooth and consistent as the tea itself. The sipper will want more.

The good news about wanting more, by the way, is that yerba mate can be re-steeped much more often than Camellia sinensis. The mug or gourd can be refilled three times without too much effect on the flavor’s strength.

In the middle of making some notes on the flavor, I realized that I had forgotten to note the aroma of the dry leaves. Imagine my shock to discover strong fruity tones where the liquid offers only malt. The dry leaves are earthy, and even woodsy, but where with the brewed liquid there are flowers growing wild, here there is only fruit to decorate the flora.

Yerba mate is hardly unknown or unheard of in North America, but it still does not get the attention that it deserves. To tea lovers, people who like variety in what they consume, and anyone who would not mind an alternative pick-me-up for the morning or afternoon (its caffeine is quite effective), I definitely recommend getting some of this delicious beverage right away. Enjoy.

2010 Château Rougi

Producer: Château Rougi

Varietals: Cabernet Franc; Cabernet Sauvignon; Merlot

Region: Bordeaux, A.O.C., France

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 05, 2012

ABV: 13%

Entre-Deux-Mers is a storied place in France. A sub-region of Bordeaux, it has its own appellation as a region whence we are blessed with many fine white wines. They make many reds there, too, and good ones at that, if the 2010 Château Rougi is any indication. But due to a quirk in a quirky system, Entre-Deux-Mers's appellation only applies to its whites, and therefore its reds are "relegated" to carrying the "generic" Bordeaux appellation. So, despite all the great red nectar flowing out of a unique, brand-name spot of terroir, we see naught but "Grand Vin de Bordeaux" and "Appellation Bordeaux Contrôlée" about the (quite lovely) label, and mere administrative mention of Entre-Deux-Mers among the fine print on the back. On the other hand, if ever there were a generic designation worth having, surely there is none better than Bordeaux AOC.

In any event, about the 2010 Château Rougi. It has a very deep, garnet color, hitting the eye with the luxurious glimmer of a gemstone. The wine opens with a very strong nose of strawberry and hibiscus, and maybe a touch of rhubarb. The pungency, in fact, hits the olfactory nerves quite like a brisk whiff of evergreen sap or mint, although those actual aromas are absent. This strength of the nose, furthermore, forms a striking contrast to the palate, which is exceedingly smooth and mellow. After the nose is so blitzed, the mouth is completely unprepared for the minimalist technique with which the notes of cherry and black plum softly glide about, leaving the taste buds pleasantly, if bewilderedly, awash in fruity delight. The finish is a slight note of rhubarb.

Perhaps, though, the mellowness is taken too far. That is definitely the thing about this wine: the extent to which it completely lacks any structure. It relies on the flavor to hold itself up, a task which it performs admirably, it must be admitted. But still, a hint of framework when the wine hits the tongue is always a nice thing, and is missed here.

After breathing for twenty minutes, the wine shows some improvement. The nose is sharp as ever, perhaps even more so, with the same aromas and also a touch of cedar. The feel of the wine in the mouth picks up just a slight kick, enough to notice, but not enough for much else. The flavor notes are the same, maybe a bit of prunes where there had been plums. One starts to notice tannins now. The wine, which is delicious right from the get-go, definitely continues to come into its own, slowly but surely, as it breathes on and on.

I thought to myself, after making notes on the tasting, "With what food would I drink this?" It is not a simple question in this case. My first thought, perhaps too easy because I had just eaten some earlier in the day, is grilled lamb chop, no frills. Yes, that would work. But, I did eventually come up with two better. The first is a chicken dish served in a local Greek restaurant, a breast of meat crusted in walnuts and completely engulfed with a very rich, delicious red fruit and berry sauce. The second - and perhaps this is easy, too, but I defy anyone to disagree - is chocolate. Magnifique!

Timor Arabica Coffee

Type: Single Origin Timor Arabica

Origin: Timor

Purveyor: McNulty's

Roast: Uncertain

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

Evidently I am more of a neophyte than I thought, because I have no idea what McNulty's means by "plantation coffee." That is how it describes the Timor Arabica: "rich, heavy body, a plantation coffee." I am not sure that we are all on the same page, but never mind. Let us start at the beginning.

The color of this coffee is slightly lighter than most. Not that it is less saturated with the hue, but rather the hue itself is of a lighter shade, something more on the orangey-reddish side of things. Imagine that someone put a fraction of a drop of ruby-red grapefruit coloring into the mix.

The aroma is nice and strong. It comes off fruity, earthy, rather as though one were romping among berry shrubs after a rain around harvest time. The taste is high in acidity, bitter, of medium intensity; strong but not bold. It has mostly earthy tones, and the fruitiness from the aroma blends into the acidity such that it is difficult to distinguish between them. The texture is thin, but not too much so. It is well-rounded, even, and smooth. The coffee also has a good, nice, even finish: the flavor fades neither too slowly nor too quickly.

I cannot imagine what McNulty's means by "heavy body." Conceivably the discrepancy can be chalked up to different preparation methods, but I let it brew in the press for seven minutes, which, while not an insane world record, should be plenty of time to let a heavy coffee develop properly. As for "rich," I assume that it refers to the flavor, which is indeed rich.

Also, I cannot tell if it is a medium roast or a dark roast. It has the flavor profile of something on the darker side. Then again, a dark roast with high acidity always seemed like an oxymoron to me. The play of acidity on the palate feels much more akin to the personality of a light roast. Still, in this case, it balances out nicely. I suppose that considering the overall character of the coffee, the guess is that it is a medium roast.

The Timor Arabica, all told, really is a very nice cup of coffee. The particular convergence of flavor and texture works out wonderfully. Actually, it is ideal not only for drinking plain, but also for my preferred flavoring method: apricot. Do not knock it until you have tried it. Apricot is my favorite food to have with coffee, and I like to take the pit and a small sliver of the flesh and drop them right into the full cup. Delicious. And heck if the Timor Arabica does not take to that just great.

Circa 1867 Assam Black Tea

Origin: Assam, India 

Type: Black Tea

Purveyor: Brownstones

Preparation: Steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for three minutes, sipped plain

The name of the place is Brownstones Coffee. And indeed, the coffee is phenomenal; the Rwanda prepared with a manual drip is to die for. But it is so much more than just a great cup of Joe: breakfast place, lunch place, time machine, and tea shop as well.

I do not know if its line of teas, branded "Circa 1867," is a house brand or a separate gig, but it is very good. The menu features dozens of teas of all types, with much to recommend. One can get loose tea to go, or order a cup to sip. Having lunch there the other day, I tried the first item on the list: a simple black Assam.

Offering a honey, butterscotch nose, the tea also emits a hint of snapdragon, a scent that I have not experienced since visiting my grandparents' garden as a youth. The hue of the tea is, interestingly, like coffee. Remarkably like coffee, actually, although not as deep or rich to the eye. Maybe there is a tinge of caramel color there, too. The taste is light; delicate but not fragile. It is savory, woodsy but not smoky, maybe almost nutty. There is also a handful of tannins to to go around. The texture is medium, edging towards the airier side of things. The finish is quite the same as the taste.

Brownstones describes the Assam as "robust, hearty, and malty." I agree with that last adjective, if none other. But then again, how could I dispute anything that they say? The staff also claims that the No Guilt Breakfast Wrap is delicious, and heck if it is anything less! As for their claim that an unimposing, almost mild tea is "robust", there is no denying that it stands up to the wrap ("healthy egg whites, baby spinach, tomatoes, cracked pepper mill turkey, melted alpine lace Swiss cheese, in a whole wheat wrap") just fine. A friendly, quiet Assam with latent muscles to hold its own anywhere: what could be better than that?

Carpineto 2010 Dogajolo

Producer: Carpineto

Name: Dogajolo

Varietals: Chardonnay 40%; Grechetto 30%; Sauvignon Blanc 30%

Region: Greve in Chianti, I.G.T., Italy

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 01, 2012

ABV: 12.5%

Carpineto dubs its 2010 Dogajolo "dry white table wine." On its website, it decorates the wine with the title "Super Tuscan." At least one of those makes sense.

Back in the mid-1900s, Italian wine was suffering a PR problem of global proportions. And for good reason: the entire country was one big table-wine factory. From Bangkok to Brooklyn, for example, Chianti was better known as "spaghetti wine." Eventually, movements arose to remedy the situation, as winemakers began to grow proper grapes and craft proper wines. For its part, the Italian government established a commission to set designated wine regions with relevant standards – its own version of the French appellation system. Hence the DOC and DOCG designations we have come to know and love.

It was not, however, so simple. (Nothing worthwhile ever is.) Many winemakers in the forefront of Italy's wine industry found the new standards to be too strict. Their ability to be creative and innovative, and to keep up with technology, in growing and blending the grapes was stifled. They argued, reasonably, that such strict regulations would do more to hinder the Italian wine industry than to promote and nourish it. But the authorities did not budge much. So, many wine makers bucked the rules and did their own thing anyway, forfeiting the DOC/DOCG designations in the hopes that their stuff was good enough to pass muster on its own legs. (No pun intended.)  To judge by any criterion – wine quality, market success, what have you – the winemakers were spot-on. Well-deserved success came on like a tsunami. Properly denominated Italian labels were lucky if they could charge half of what the alternatives were ringing up for their wines. In commenting on all of this, some journalist referred to such wines from Chianti as "Super Tuscans," and the term caught on as quickly as the wine itself did.

Fast-forward forty years. Are things taken too far? Well. The idea of a new Italian label seeking designation is almost silly. Every other wine nowadays is a "Super Tuscan." Producers, distributors, consumers, and, of course, reviewers and critics throw the term about with reckless abandon. Seeing "Super Tuscan" describe a wine lets the consumer know right away that it has as much a chance of being yet another standard, normal, unremarkable wine from that storied province as anything else. Surprised? Nobody should be. Such is the caprice of humankind. But it does make it frustrating when the term is used on a label or website. Will the wine be as good as it is supposed to be? Quite possibly, but the let-downs can be rough.

The Dogajolo has perhaps the prettiest label I have ever seen on a bottle of wine, and a tint to match. The wine is clear, glimmering in all the right ways, rather like a pale goldenrod. The 2010 opens with a light nose of citrus – kumquat and grapefruit, mostly – and a bit of green pepper. On being sipped, it both tastes and feels like a refreshing wave of apple. There is a citrus trim to the palate – is that quince? While the nose is mild, the best word to describe the level of taste is "pungent." Dry, the Dogajolo has a medium body and good structure, although it can be a bit rough around the edges. The finish is mild, mostly an encore of the apple notes.

One other item is that it really seems as though there is a hint of oak to the palate. Is that your humble servant's imagination run amok, a hallucination born of a need to have good material for a certain weblog? Carpineto's website does not say whether or not the wine spent time in oak. But the hint, though recessed back into the farthest corner of the tongue, was quite firmly planted there.

There was quite a bit of difference after twenty minutes of breathing, more than with most whites. The nose was much mellowed, and acquired notes of pears, table grapes, maybe even a berry or two. The palate really came into its own, with a kinder texture and a much more mellow, enjoyable tone. My note from the time says, "now tastes like it was made from grapes" – an exaggeration, of course, but the point remains. There are also notes of citrus. The finish is the same mild apple.

As I sip the wine, especially after aeration, I see myself sitting outside with a lovely companion at a bistro set, stylish, on a patio, poolside, trees, blues skies, warm weather. Maybe there is a plate of soft cheese, olives, and fruit; or maybe it is just veggies and dip. What is definitely there, popping up with agreeable frequency between sensuous smiles and leisurely laughs? The 2010 white Dogajolo.

First Harvest Darjeeling Tea

Origin: Darjeeling, India 

Type: Black Tea

Style: First Flush

Purveyor: McNulty's

Preparation: One teaspoon steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for three minutes, sipped plain

Darjeeling tea is harvested a few times over the course of a season - first flush, second flush, autumnal flush - and each yield has its own characteristics, its own personality, its own charm and identity, making its own mark on the world of tea and on the palates of tea drinkers. (Che bella!) I have heard that the tea made from the first flush is the lightest, as the leaves are plucked before the full length of the season has given the plant day after day of bountiful nutrients and minerals and other goodies to be imbibed from the soil, eventually yielding an autumnal leaf that makes a richer and stronger (and more bitter) cup of tea. That all makes sense on paper, I suppose, and yet I must say that if the tea that I sipped is the lightest crop of the season, then by the autumnal flush the tea must brew like crude oil.

The dry leaves of this First Harvest Darjeeling (as McNulty's calls it) are medium sized, and all shades of brown. They are rolled, and not quite crumpled so much as gnarled. The bag of tea leaves could easily pass for a bag of tiny twigs. These leaves offer a thick, winy nose, not unlike a tawny port, with fruity undertones, perhaps peach-like.

When brewed, the tea is the color of tawny port, with a rich visual texture like honey. That is appropriate, because the aroma is of honey as well, and somewhat floral - honeysuckle, let's say. When sipped, the tea has a smooth texture, soothing to drink, almost like a tisane. Is it hearty, per se? No, although the question does arise. It is rich yet semi-delicate. Maybe that is what people mean in describing the first flush as "light": delicate to the touch. The flavor is certainly no kind of weak. There are plenty of tannins around the edges, while a vanilla-honey flavor - soft but superabundant - takes center stage. There are hints of peaches and nectarines.

Overall, the cup of this First Harvest Darjeeling is mellow but deep. It seems more like an afternoon tea than a breakfast tea. Sipping it does more to provide a platform for the collected thoughts of a day to play themselves out than to provide a spark to generate the day's events.

I brewed the same leaves a second time, in the same manner, and the result was what one might expect. The color of the tea does not diminish, and the nose, aside from exuding more tannins, is the same. But on the sip it offers a muted, slightly more bitter version of the first cup of tea, with a lighter texture. The finish is tannic.

By the way, half-way through the second cup, the caffeine starts to really hit in. Maybe it can work as a breakfast tea after all!