China Keemun Tea

Origin: Anhui, China

Type: Black Tea

Purveyor: McNulty's

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

Of the various tales surrounding the origin of Keemun tea, the most ubiquitous is also, perhaps, the most likely. A failed government bureaucrat set out to earn his fortune in the private sector (alright, that part is unlikely) with tea. He learned to make black tea in Fujian province and brought the skill back home to Anhui province, where only green tea had been made up to that point. Having quite the knack for his craft, out hero found a great degree of success, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Indeed, Keemun is often an ingredient in English Breakfast Tea, with those blends that do include it being generally more expensive. So successful is this tea, in fact, that it virtually always appears in those omnipresent lists of "Ten Famous China Teas" (no single list is definitive), even though it just came about less than a century and a half ago in a large country renowned since ancient times for dozens of different high-quality teas.

I set out to solve the riddle of its success. This was expressly not difficult - one cup, and the mystery vanished.

The dry leaves I picked up from McNulty's are the color of carob seeds. They are small, mostly straight, and twisted so tight that if I did not know any better I would assume that they were solid twigs instead of flat leaves rolled up. Their aroma is mainly vanilla, with some florals - sweet, sweet florals.

The brewed tea is of a caramel hue and has such visual texture that one would think that a few spoons of honey were already mixed in. The aroma is similar to that of the dry leaves. Some malt also appears, but sweet florals predominate. The taste, much like the sight, is enough to perpetuate the illusion that a plain cup of tea includes a great amount of honey. But now, though the sweetness is so strong, it is joined by other strong elements as well: acidity, tannins, briskness. There is a moderate degree of malt, at least enough to support the other notes, which is important because the body is medium - not weak or thin by any means, but still dwarfed by all of the flavor elements.

And yet this Keemun is not a grab-you-by-the-mouth-and-kick-you-around kind of beverage. It shows its strength but uses it gently. Next time I intent to brew it for only 2:45, and am confident that that will even it out the right amount. Three minutes just let the flavor get a little too big; we are left with gentle giants that occasionally bump shoulders by mistake. But they are still beautiful, playful, even thoughtful, with plenty of instinct for grace (if not quite plenty of room, in my particular cup). They are good for either waking up or calming down; drink it in the morning or afternoon.

On the way down, the Keemun settles back to sweet florals, releasing them with a full body at the back of the mouth. We are brought to the classic question that accompanies all finishes: is it goodbye or a forecast of hello? In this case, definitely both.

Stumptown's Hair Bender: French and Turkish

Name: Hair Bender

Origins: Latin America, East Africa, Indonesia

Roaster: Stumptown Coffee Roasters

Varietals: (varying)

Preparation 1: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

Preparation 2: Freshly ground, 4 teaspoons combined with 1.4 cups water and 0.36 ounces (3 packets) of sugar, kept over medium-low flame until ready, sipped without further enhancement

When I was turned on to Stumptown's Hair Bender blend last week and looked it up, I saw that it is an espresso blend. The timing was excellent: I have recently been given a household grinder that actually gets the coffee into a fine enough powder to make Turkish coffee. (As Turkish coffee fans know, those are not easy to find.) Certainly, that is not the same thing as espresso, but the profile requirements are sufficiently similar that I thought I would give the grinder its first taste of action with Hair Bender.

Before going quite there, I prepared it in the French press just to get my bearings on the tasting notes. What emerges from that is a coffee the color of red cedar, or of a fox's fur; the kind of brown that reminds one that brown is actually just a shade of orange. The aroma includes almost everything: fruits, nuts, spices. The flavor is a strong, rich, robust earthiness. Acidity is medium, and there is no maltiness. The finish includes florals and spices, and the texture remains medium-light throughout.

One can tell right away that Hair Bender is a blend from the plethora of characteristics that it exhibits, and even for a blend it is remarkably dynamic. This is hardly surprising given the multitude of coffees used. Stumptown's website explains that Hair Bender "can have five to eight different coffees at any given time. We hand select these coffees to provide clarity along with the sweetness and complexity we are seeking. We continually taste this blend and each of its components (on the cupping table as well as espresso) to maintain the balance of flavors." Perhaps my cherished readers are way ahead of me, but I still was not entirely clear on why the ingredients would vary. Fortunately, Stumptown continues to show saintly patience with my impertinent inquiries, and has elaborated: "The coffees in our blends generally reflect the growing seasons in each part of the coffee world. The contents of our Hair Bender change throughout the seasons in order to ensure that the taste of our Hair Bender does not change with the seasons. The coffees in the blend are chosen to achieve a certain flavor profile." Aha! So, though dear Mother Nature would, over the course of a year, alter the nature of the coffee that a given piece of land produces (e.g. different seasons yield different quality crops), Stumptown skirts that roadblock by sourcing coffees from different parts of the globe at different times of the year to keep things uninterrupted. This is great news; I would hate for the rich dynamism of Hair Bender to be available for only a few months of the year.

Alright then, time to see how this baby fares prepared Turkish. The liquid comes out a dark, deep, rich brown, as Turkish coffee should be. There is, naturally, less dynamism with this preparation. Sweetness is everywhere. The aroma is sweet and earthy; the palate is sweet almost like a carob, with medium acidity; and the finish is sweet, and rather rich. Mentally separating the coffee profile from the sugar, we have essentially the same coffee as we had in the press if it had been roasted darker.

Hair Bender really does work well prepared as Turkish coffee. This is not just as per its strength - with its name being "Hair Bender" one might think of the strength first, but actually it was named after the hair salon that had previously occupied the storefront which eventually became Stumptown's first cafe in Portland, Oregon - but as per its profile. One needs a coffee that can simultaneously carry, balance, and complement the sugar. This would usually be a medium-light roast, as bitterness is counterproductive, while body and flavor are important. Hair Bender is an espresso blend, but not a dark roast. We have already seen that Stumptown does not do usual roast measurements; they roast for the bean. With these beans here, the goal of the roasting is to make good espresso. That it would, and it makes great pressed coffee and Turkish coffee as well.

Moobuzz 2011 Pinot Noir

Producer: The Other Guys

Name: Moobuzz Pinot Noir

Varietals: Pinot Noir 86%; Sangiovese 10%; Syrah 1%; Tempranillo 3%

Region: California, USA

Vintage: 2011

Tasted: September 8, 2012

ABV: 13.5%

Did you know that when it comes to the use of sensual terminology in wine reviews - you know, that sometimes sappy, sometimes wildly inappropriate vocabulary that wine people use and that non-wine people make fun of wine people for using - Pinot Noir is the varietal most frequently being described? I did not know that until after I finished taking notes on the Moobuzz 2011 Pinot Noir by The Other Guys, as I browsed The Wine Bible by Karen MacNeil. Indeed, if my own reaction to the Moobuzz is any indication, that little tidbit of trivia sure does make sense.

For example, here is what I had written when trying to sort out how the acid in the taste does not have the usual concomitant bite or harshness along with it: "It is like a very beautiful person you see lying on the beach; she looks like an intense, wild-and-crazy sort of person, but really she is just lying there, taking it easy, looking hotter than all Hades." (Sometimes I write these things down as they come to me, lest I forget them later.)

So yeah, I really did not need much convincing from Ms. MacNeil on that one.

The 2011 Moobuzz Pinot Noir has a dark, ruby red color, quite seductive in itself. The aroma is intense, predominantly spicy with some red-fruity notes scattered about. The flavor, though, is smooth, even, mellow. While the tasting notes are of acidic things - citrus, mainly, and apples - there is no actual acidity to bombard the tongue. Again, think of the comely sun-bather: all the spunk and pizazz and craziness that the imagination pleases, none of the bother of having to deal with what all of that would actually entail. The texture is round, full-bodied, easy to enjoy. The finish is blackberry.

But a beach-goer who in fact just lies there all day would not be very much fun at all, now, would she? No, and our Pinot Noir has no interest in such doldrums. After aerating for twenty minutes, she has caught her breath and is ready for some action. The nose is as pungent as ever, and more fruits seem to have joined the party - it really is quite the medley. The palate is still smooth but less mellow. Some of the spice from the aroma has trickled on down to the mouth now, and the acidity is starting to feel like what one would expect from a bite of fresh fruit. For those who do not like fluctuating extremes there is good news: the wine, in her texture, remains as tender to the touch as ever, providing a nice level of balance, of sanity - we can feel comfortable enjoying the developments because the world still makes sense. And what kind of person would our Pinot Noir be if she left without dropping us a sweet surprise on her way out? The finish is strawberry, and ne'er could even the most alluring young lass so entice with a wink and a smile and a delicate wave as she slips past the threshold.

Here's to next time; soon may it come.

Single Origins and Blends

There is a lot of focus lately, within the craft roasting community, on an individual coffee's origins. A given bean is explored in all aspects relating to its varietal and its provenance, sometimes even down to the individual lot on which it was farmed.

The benefits of this are as obvious as they are gainful. The world of coffee learns as much as there is to know about each and every permutation of coffee that there is. For each varietal, we learn what a given climate and soil combination does to its characteristics and flavor profile; for each place of origin, we learn what bean varietal grows into the best coffee, what grows most prodigiously, what each bean does to the soil, and so on. The result is a global portfolio of the best coffees that mother earth has to offer.

Furthermore, when sipping a coffee brewed from a single origin, one experiences the true essence of that locale. Just as one can get a mouthful of everything that constitutes a terroir and all that it has to offer from just one sip of wine, a sip of coffee can transport one to any corner of the globe and give one a real feel for the place, its land, its climate, its scent – its entirety.

Equally beneficial, but unfortunately not equally appreciated nowadays, is the coffee blend. If blending were not possible, then stripping down the identity of each individual bean to investigate the layers would indeed be the consummate endeavor of the coffee professional. But blending is possible, and in seemingly infinite ways at that. Therefore, we can conclude that mastery of coffee requires the twin disciplines of investigation and application – one must be familiar with all aspects of every varietal and origin, and also be able to deploy that intimacy in creating the ideal blend. There is an art to go with the science.

The upsides of the blend ought to be as obvious as those of the single-origin. The best blends are those that fuse disparate elements from the varietals into a coherent, vibrant personality; a brew that can play all of the instruments in the orchestra and still sound like one synchronized, harmonious symphony; a coffee that can embody the principle of e pluribus unum. The augmentation of the canon of masterpieces is itself a vital element in the world of coffee, just as vital as the mastery of the individual beans.

May the perfection of the single variety continue apace, and may the craft of blending do the same.

Organic Dark Roast Yerba Mate

Origins: Brazil

Type: Yerba Mate

Ingredients: Yerba Mate, Roasted Yerba Mate, Roasted Barley, Roasted Carob, Roasted Chicory

Purveyor: Mate Factor (all organic)

Preparation: One tablespoon put into an empty 10oz mug, rest of mug filled with approximately 150-degree water, sipped with bombilla

Now here is a keen angle. Mate Factor is branding its mate not as a tea, but as its own category of caffeinated coffee alternative. It really is a great job that they did. The package includes brewing instructions for a French press, a standard drip machine, even an espresso machine with a latte option. Very nice.

As for whether the product can actually work as an alternative to coffee, that depends. Someone looking for something that tastes like coffee will be disappointed; no tea or tisane will ever achieve that. But Mate Factor never sought to make something that tastes like coffee in the first place. They assembled a unique blend of ingredients, and what results is a rich, earthy brew with a flavor all its own.

The dry Dark Roast Yerba Mate, first of all, looks great. It is like looking at a fresh, prime, radiant example of pristine woodland earth in the springtime. Most of the mix is a bold, dark brown, and sprinkled about there are bright, deciduous greens and whites. The leaves smell sweet and chocolaty.

When brewed, the tisane switches gears and emits a strong scent of yerba mate. The other ingredients become quite peripheral to the aroma. The liquid is a dark brown, malty but translucent, rather like a black tea. There is nothing malty about the flavor though. The brew offers very smooth, even notes of yerba mate and chocolate. It is sweet but not so sweet that it starts to do a bad impression of chocolate milk. The barley gives it an extra dimension, a little depth and subtlety. But the principle flavor is definitely the yerba mate. This is good, because it lends credibility to the suggestion that it is meant to be brewed. Without the mate's presence, one would wonder if it would not be better just as a shake or something.

Fortunately, the yerba mate does indeed predominate, and it tastes quite ideal as a brewed beverage. I can definitely see making a latte or cappuccino out of this; the flavor and texture would integrate with the milk perfectly. Of course, I enjoyed it just fine prepared in the traditional way. All in all, Mate Factor did a splendid job creating, as they put it, a "healthy coffee alternative."

Agapao Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Type: Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Roaster: Agapao

Roast: Very Dark Roast

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

He is a bold man who puts his name right on the forefront of his work for all the world to see. It is appropriate, then, that the eponymous Dave at Agapao put his name on a bold cup of coffee. Well, sometimes bold. The dark, carob-colored beverage is a blend, after all, and all of the ingredients must be allowed to come out and play. The various components take turns strutting their stuff, and the result is a delightfully dynamic breakfast beverage.

Dave's Organic Signature Blend says "very dark roast" on the package. The beans appear, indeed are, rich and oily. When brewed, they have a nutty, earthy aroma quite on the strong side. The palate is surprised, then, when it finds itself tasting an extremely smooth, light (but not buttery) coffee of mid-level intensity with some smoke, some nut, a few florals around the edges, and no acid. It finishes rich, airy, with earthy tones: precisely the point of the undulation of characteristics at which the robust, nutty aroma is ready to pick up again on the next sip.

Coffees like this are just what the doctor ordered on those mornings that find one desiring to get up-and-at-'em, but unable to muster the will to make it past the nightstand. Never mind the caffeine – it is the vibrant personality of this coffee that will befriend any adventurous soul in need of a little jolting.

Château de Péna 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Producer: Château de Péna

Name: Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Varietals: Carignan 20%; Grenache 40%; Syrah 40%

Region: Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales, France

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: September 1, 2012

ABV: 14.3%

I have a confession to make. Anyone with even the slightest sense of taste and decency will have an immediate impulse to judge me, but please, allow me to explain, as I believe that I have atoned for the sin. The confession is this: until earlier this year, I almost always tended away from French wine. It just did not do it for me. Italian wines with their soft, fruity notes, or Spanish wines with their buttery sweetness - those were for me. French wines were venerable, yes, but compared to the their smooth, warm, friendly, outgoing-yet-relaxed Mediterranean counterparts they were cold, angular, unbending, stressed and stressful. At least, that is the impression that I let myself keep, for no reason other than that it was there.

All of that changed in February. The evening of February 18, 2012, to be specific. The inestimable Lettie Teague had a wonderful article in The Wall Street Journal that weekend entitled "Saying Oui and Si to France's Most Spanish Wines" in which she explored the offerings of France's Roussillon region.

We learn in the article how it came to be that there is, indeed, an entire region of French people who identify primarily as something other than French, we learn how such a relatively small sliver of land produces more wine than the rest of the country combined (indeed, it produces more wine than most entire countries), and we learn that Roussillon makes reds, whites, and even a fortified wine. Then comes the surprise: we learn that the wines do not taste like French wine. Ms. Teague explains:

In fact, Spain may a better reference point for Roussillon than France. Tim O'Rourke, manager of Weygandt-Metzler Wines in Washington, said that he sells Roussillon wines most easily to Spanish-wine lovers. "When I talk about the Roussillon, I talk about how the wines resemble those from Spain. It's not like I'm going to sell a Burgundy lover a bottle of wine from the Roussillon," he said.

I thought to myself, "Resembles Spanish wine, eh? I like Spanish wine. Sounds like a good place to open the door into French wines for myself." So I got myself a bottle of 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge, which is made by Château de Péna in the little Roussillon commune of Cases de Pene, took my first step into Gallic oenology, and have not looked back. One day I am eschewing anything north of the Pyrenees, and the next day I am reviewing a Bordeaux. It is wonderful to have that door open to me.

The Cuvée de Peña, by the way, is exquisite. It has a very robust red color; one cannot see through it, and the hue, ironically, is Burgundy. The aroma is a complexity of red table grapes, berries, and red apple. It is not pungent, but lively and sprightly, as though the scents are especially anxious to leap from the glass right away. The wine has fruity notes of red apple, purple plum, and a touch of berry, all balanced with a little acid and tannins. With its supple body, the Cuvée is almost sensual, caressing the mouth and gliding tenderly, tantalizingly down the throat, leaving finishing notes of pomegranate and strawberry to keep one company until the next sip.

After twenty minutes of breathing, the nose is much mellowed, with aromas of peach and fresh melon. The palate is the same, though a little relaxed in the tannin and acidity departments. It is smoother now, and the same peaches and melon reappear as the Cuvée takes the plunge.

The story gets even better, by the way. When I was first shopping for the Roussillon, one bottle said "Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales," another said "Vin de Pays d'Oc," still another said "Appellation Muscat de Rivesaltes Controlée," and there were a dozen more. I had no idea what any of that meant. Just find me the one that says "Roussillon"!! I felt a little silly surrounded by scores of different wines, with labels plastered in all sorts of text, not being able to pick out which are from an entire region. So after the shopkeeper helped me find this one, I went home, researched a little, got a couple of books, researched a little more, kept up with the material by doing plenty of product testing (in the interest of education, you see), and found myself so fascinated that there was no avoiding the inevitable: I must become part of the world of wine. The result has been my enthusiastic entry into just that world by way of this website that you are reading right now.

I believe that a thank you is due Ms. Teague for both introducing me to French wine and getting me interested in the larger world of wine. It is, and promises to forever continue being, an exhilarating experience.

Choice Organic Teas Oothu Garden Green

Origins: India

Type: Green Tea 

Purveyor: Choice Organic Teas

Preparation: One teabag steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for 2:30 (as recommended on the box), sipped plain

Now here is a pleasant cup of tea. More and more often lately, tea purveyors try to make a cup of tea into more than just a cup of tea. And that collective endeavor certainly has its merits. New places are planted with tea, new styles of tea arrive, new blends and flavors are offered, and so on. Imagine if instead of the fast-paced world of tea we have now, we had a world in which the menu had not been augmented in a couple of centuries: a handful of black teas, a couple of greens, an oolong, and maybe a couple of herbals; and nothing else. Instead the tea drinking world is vibrant, growing, experimenting - in a word, thriving. I am glad that I live in this world and not an alternate.

However, nothing is perfect. There are some drawbacks to the fast pace, and notable among them is the fact that it becomes difficult sometimes to just get a nice, simple tea. Very often nowadays, a tea list will include a few standard varieties hidden among dozens and dozens of zany flavors and odd roastings, strange combinations and weird herbs. Those are all very nice, and many of them have people who think they taste good, but can't tea purveyors pay at least as much attention to tea-flavored tea?

Choice Organic Teas's Oothu Garden Green opens with a somewhat sweet nose, fruity and tannic. The palate is also tannic. It is smooth and buttery (that is to say, both rich and light), with a somewhat mild finish. This is not an intense tea. It is not malty, it is not brisk, it is not packed with a million different elements, and it is not trying for anything in particular. It is just a good brew, sort of like that one great friend who is always relaxed, level-headed, a good listener - the one who has plenty of fun but does not always feel the need to be wacky about it. When sipping the Oothu, I thought to myself how nice it is that I can have a cup of tea that I do not have to "deal with;" I can just sit back and enjoy it, letting the mind unwind and thoughts pass by without interference from all sorts of elements in my beverage.

A rare treat in a crazy world.

Stumptown Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Type: Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Origin: Sumatra

Roaster: Stumptown Coffee Roasters

Varietals: Bourbon; Catimor; Jember; Typica

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

There is bucking norms, and there is bucking norms. You know what I mean. Some people are smashers, looking to destroy the order of things from within so that they can lie to the world and to themselves about the comparative worth of whatever it is that they have to bring to the table. Others seek not to tear down but to build up, to expand, to augment. Eager and sincere, they are careful not to destroy, at least not wantonly, but they have no qualms about forcing the status quo to engage in honest competition. This is, generally speaking, a good thing.

The folks at Stumptown Coffee Roasters are serious coffee people. They travel to all corners of the earth (literally) sourcing beans, roast them great, and have found much success doing so. What makes them different? They do not roast light, dark, or anywhere in between. It is a different approach entirely.

I was skeptical at first. "All our coffee is roasted for the coffee itself. It's not necessarily defined as light, medium, or dark," the gentleman in the store told me when I asked about what I was buying. It sounded like either new-age nonsense or he had no idea what he was talking about (or both). In actuality, he was being quite helpful: there, in a very neat nutshell, is Stumptown's approach.

It was described in more detail in an e-mail from Stumptown. "Our guide for roasting coffee is flavor," they explained. "Each coffee is roasted to bring out the aspects inherent in the bean which we would like to accentuate for the optimum drinking pleasure. We don't like to impart a fingerprint or a roast signature on the coffee. Instead, we prefer to highlight what makes that particular varietal or farm exciting."

I still did not quite get it. So they have different criteria than others when roasting the coffee. Surely once the bean is roasted it still fits into one or another roast profile - perhaps not the usual one, but one nonetheless? Indeed it does, in this case a medium-light. But to fixate on that is to miss the whole point in the first place. Yes, when the beans emerge from the machine they are roasted at a certain level. But that is a post-hoc observation only. Many roasters - most, I daresay - decide on a level of light, medium, or dark, set the roaster, and send the beans through. Stumptown does not care what hue of brown the beans end up. How long should this bean, of this variety, from this origin, be roasted? What flavors does it have? How can we maximize the good ones, marginalize the bad ones, and coax out some new ones? How long before some of them are lost? Can we adjust to make sure that the texture is just right? And so on and so forth.

So yes, the beans end up ochre or burnt-sienna or whatever. Big deal. They end up right. That is the point.

And indeed, the coffee is delightful. The organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh brews into a light brown liquid with a tinge of orange. It has a fruity, nutty aroma, but the palate is quite different: earthy, smoky, slightly bitter around the edges, and rather non-acidic. The coffee is on the thin side, but smooth and consistent, and it gets thicker on the finish as it goes down nice and easy.

It really does make the experience more special when I learn not just of a new coffee, but also a new thing about coffee. I suspect that the same is true for most coffee aficionados, so I encourage everyone to get a packet of Stumptown, and consider the unique mindset that went into roasting it while sipping the brew. It will not be a disappointment.

La Kiuva 2009 Arnad Montjovet

Producer: La Kiuva

Region: Arnad Montjovet, Vallée d'Aosta D.O.C., Italy

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: August 26, 2012

ABV: 12.5%

The 2009 Arnad Montjovet from La Kiuva is an excellent embodiment of the Vallée d'Aosta. Just as the picturesque valley is caught between cultures, this Arnad Montjovet cannot quite decide between personalities.

Though the Vallée d'Aosta is Italian by political tradition, the culture is particularly Alpine, more comparable to Switzerland than to anywhere else. And for good reason: the region, nestled as it is between France, Switzerland, and the rest of Italy, includes slopes of such icons as the Matterhorn, Mont Blanc (the highest peak in the Alps), and many others. About seventy percent of the people speak French, some speak Valdôtain (a distinct Romance language native to the area), and there is even a minority of Walser German speakers. These people really pay taxes to Rome and not to Bern? On the other hand, everyone speaks Italian and the region is no further from the Ligurian Coast than Manhattan is from Montauk. Alright then.

In accordance with Italian DOC regulations, Arnad Montjovet is about seventy percent Nebbiolo with a great miscellany of grapes comprising the rest. The 2009 from La Kiuva errs on the transparent side of red – limpid, almost – and with a slight but unmistakable purple tinge when viewed from the right angle. Let's call it carmine. It opens with a nice, deep berry scent. One can just smell the tannins, and some spice. When sipped, the wine proceeds to offer two versions of itself at once. It is light, fluffy, and mellow on the tongue, the way that a wine from a Mediterranean country should be. And it is spicy, very biting, on the palate, the way that a wine from a harsh, mountainous region should be. Well, which type of wine is it? Whence does it wish to come? Silly questions. It does not have to make any kind of definitive choice any more than the Vallée d'Aosta herself does, and one can be sure that neither is in any hurry to settle the question one way or the other.

The flavor notes are of fresh fruit, particularly citrus. There is a little tang to the wine, and a little sweetness as well. For the finish, the red fruits appear, as do tannins. Some bite appears on the way down; clearly, the wine does not wish to go quietly into the night, and its Alpine side is putting up a valiant struggle, but to us higher mortals it manifests as a mere amusing hint of spice.

After aerating for twenty minutes, the Arnad Montjovet has mellowed out. The easygoing side wins; evidently, even hardy mountain folk need a Mediterranean vacation after a while. The nose remains unchanged but the palate has lost its bite. The flavors and tannins float around smoothly. The finish, too, has turned pacific.

One of the benefits of a wine that cannot make up its mind is a great versatility in pairing. (One might fear that the inverse can lead to a downside, but it works out the good way with the La Kiuva.) The three dishes with which I came up are chicken parmigiana, rack of lamb, and tortellini bolognese. But truly, this Arnad Montjovet can work great with most any meat, poultry, or red sauce dish. I encourage my dear readers to discover as much for themselves.