The 2009 Food & Wine Classic in Aspen wrapped up this past Sunday, but I figured I'd blog about one or two highlights from it anyway. One of them, not to blow my own horn, was the slightly crazy blind-burger-pairing-old-world-vs.-new-world-wine-smackdown that I ran as one of my seminars on Friday. 

What I did was pick three pairs of wines, one from Europe and one from the U.S. in each case, and pair them with a series of mini-burgers prepared by Ryan Hardy, the immensely talented young chef at Montagna at the Little Nell. The audience—more than 120 people; the room was jammed—tasted each pair of wines with the appropriate burger, then voted on which wine worked best. It was a hoot, unsurprisingly, helped along substantially by the insanely good burgers.

The winners? With a crabcake slider served with a tarragon aioli, the fave wine was from Italy: the 2007 Nino Negri Ca'Brione ($35), a lightly honeyed, spicy, richly citrusy blend of Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Incrocia Manzoni (a hybrid of Pinot Blanc and Riesling), and, even weirder, a small proportion of Nebbiolo fermented without its skins so the juice remains white. White Nebbiolo, you bet. Regardless, it was a lovely wine, and if you happen to be serving crabcakes with a tarragon aioli, go for it.

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As I seem now to do every year, I stopped last week in Boulder before heading up to the F&W Classic in Aspen for the annual pre-Aspen wine dinner that Travel & Leisure's contributing wine editor Bruce Schoenfeld throws. As usual, it was a crazy grab-bag of wines (and people), many of them extraordinary (both the wines and the people).

Among the standouts? First, a 1982 Associated Vintners Dionysus Vineyard Riesling, notable partly because it was the first single-vinyard Riesling bottled in Washington State—or so I was told—and partly because it was actually still quite alive, with appealing lemon and stone notes. Later, a 2000 Contino Graciano had aromas of earth, leather and ripe black raspberries and was lush and inviting; an interesting development from a wine that's always quite tart, tannic and palate-zapping on release. I loved the 1982 Giacosa Barolo Falletto that came my way—hazy red in color, smelling of licorice, roses and caramel, with flavors that recalled dried spices like cardamom and cinnamon—though for some reason not everybody did. (Go figure. Lunatics, the lot of 'em.) And a 1999 Yarra Yering Dry Red #1—from a winery that made news lately by getting sold—had aromas of tea leaves and kirsch, then luscious berry fruit poised on the edge of age but not quite there. A very pretty wine.

The wine of the night, though, by general acclaim, was a 1991 Ridge Santa Cruz Mountains Cabernet Sauvignon, which was just fantastic. Aromas of forest floor, spiced currants and graphite led into layers of soft cherry-currant fruit, silky tannins, and more lingering graphite notes. It had aged gorgeously and was in perfect condition, and isn't even Ridge's top Cabernet (Monte Bello is). The current vintage will set you back $40. Not bad. And I like the fact that Paul Draper, on the back label of the wine, suggested that it would age only five to ten years. As it turns out, a very modest prediction.

I had the good fortune yesterday to attend a substantial retrospective of gran reserva Riojas from some of the top producers in the region. I've long been a Rioja fan, and have for just about as long been convinced that traditionally styled Riojas are some of the best wines to cellar if you're interested in drinking older wines—they age wonderfully, especially from great years, and, relative to similarly long-lived reds, are distinctly underpriced. 

First, though, I should give a shout-out to my fave affordable Rioja from the big tasting that followed the retrospective, which was the 2004 Bodegas Luis Canas Crianza, a juicy, cherry-filled, appealingly streamlined red that sells for under $15. Good juice.

Of the older wines, the winner of the day for me was the 1982 Rioja Alta Gran Reserva 904, pale red in hue, utterly classic with its aromas of dried cherries, leather, black tea leaf, and resinous spices. On the palate it added a coffee note to that mix of characteristics, and a silky texture and presence that was just gorgeous—drinking it was like a psychic transportation to Rioja. Which is pretty impressive, for fermented grape juice in a bottle...

The two oldest wines in the lineup were fascinating as well. The 1964 Marqués de Riscal Gran Reserva (a blend of 75% Tempranillo with 25% Cabernet) was intensely luscious and deep to start with, full of sweet rich cherry and mocha notes, lush tannins, and a lightly resinous funky note—which, unfortunately, intensified as the wine opened and eventually left it pretty odd and stinky. Such are the risks of old bottles. On the other hand, the 1964 Faustino I Gran Reserva, which started out somewhat nondescript and a bit thin, opened up into a beautiful old Rioja, elegant in a noble way, with cool sweet berry notes, layers of herbal nuances, a hint of dark chocolate, and a really graceful structure. So, such are the benefits of old bottles...

None of those wines is really findable except, possibly, at auction (or in Spain). The 2001 Marqués de Murrieta Castillo Ygay Gran Reserva Especial ($54), though, should be around and about, and was the star of the younger wines in the retrospective—cherry fruit with notes of licorice and forest floor, ripe and dense but not heavy, and a leathery-gamey hint on the end. All the richness of the '01 vintage in a classically styled wine, in a sense. I wish I had a case so I could see how it will be, forty years down the line. —R.I.

Last week, I attended a dinner at Bouley, where winemaker Axel Heinz presented four vintages of Tenuta dell’Ornellaia’s Masseto (the highly acclaimed Merlot-based Super Tuscan), including the not-yet-released 2006 as well as the 2005, 2001 and 1997. Heinz invited everyone who attended to bring a bottle—one they felt was iconic in some way, from a producer who had “stood the test of time.” Unfortunately, I have no cellar to pull such a wine from, so instead I opted for the 1998 López de Heredia Viña Gravonia ($28, find this wine), a white Rioja from a traditional producer who holds wines at the estate for years—even decades, for its top wines—before releasing them. (1998 is the current vintage of this wine.)

As the sommelier poured me some 1988 Dom Pérignon, he set my bottle down next to a 1970 Château Margaux and a 1990 Ridge Geyersville, which made me feel more than a little sheepish. Thankfully, my humble bottle—one that at eleven years old tastes fresh and, in some ways, even too young to drink—provoked a great discussion about López de Heredia’s iconic status. I said I chose the wine because I admired the producer for sticking to its traditional-winemaking guns. In Rioja, many producers have embraced a more international style of wine: The whites are aged in stainless steel (instead of old oak barrels) and are often crisp but unmemorable. The reds are highly extracted and aged in new oak barrels for a richer, more polished style. Everyone agreed that López—with its elegant reds that age wonderfully and its extraordinary whites that often last even longer—has become an icon, but some people at the table wondered if it's simply because the López is the "last man standing" in a sea of producers who have modernized. Whatever the answer, I was happy it that it paired beautifully with Bouley’s porcini “flan,” an egg white–thickened dashi broth studded with meaty chunks of Dungeness crab. Better than the '06 Masseto, I must say.

And what about the Massetos? I found it fascinating to taste how all of the vintages had a distinctive (and wonderful) combination of mouth-filling fruit, terrific structure and a luxuriously long finish. The 2006 was much more opulent than the 2005, which was a tougher year in Tuscany; the ’05 seemed a bit closed. The sexy 2001 and 1997 were both noticeably silkier, thanks to their softening tannins, but had little in terms of secondary notes; I imagine more will start to develop as they continue to age. These wines have a lot of extraction, yes, but their balance across the board was impressive. In summary, the wines were correct—impeccable, even. It was hard to find a flaw. But does being flawless make something inspiring? Does flawlessness make a wine an icon? Perhaps. But is it worth paying upwards of $250 for that?

I'm not so sure. But I'm grateful to have tried them, and if you ever get the chance to taste Masseto, I would say definitely do. —Kristin Donnelly

Not long ago I was in New Zealand, and got a chance to visit a number of winemakers in the Martinborough region. Martinborough has a simple problem—it sounds a lot like Marlborough, the much larger and more well-known region on the South Island that provides the template for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Consequently people get them confused.

So, a quick Martinborough primer. It's on the North Island, though it's the southernmost wine region on that island. Various wines are produced there, but the region's strength is Pinot Noir; along with Central Otago, it's one of the best Pinot zones in the country. And it's tiny, less than three percent of New Zealand's total wine growing area.

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I suppose you could spring for the usual rosé Champagne or box of fancy chocolates, but why not a bottle of Burgundy instead? I can't think of any good reason. Also, I was at the Frederick Wildman Burgundy portfolio dinner at WD-50 the other night, where I was filled with poppin-fresh Burgundy info (also with chef Wylie Dufresne's rather odd squab with butternut-squash noodles and cream soda gelée).

If the love of your life likes white, one option is to ditch him or her and find someone who likes red; another, possibly less traumatic, would be to pick up a bottle of the 2005 Domaine Christian Moreau Valmur Grand Cru Chablis ($70), which is spot-on in its Chablisiennity: a wine with volume but no oppressive weight, the wet cobbles/chalk scent characteristic of some (good) wines of the region, and crisp, mouthfilling fruit. Also mighty darn nice was the focused, intense Château Génot-Boulanger Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru La Garenne ($55), a whole lot of words to name a wine that tasted so pure it seemed to rise past words entirely.

If your friend/spouse/alien controller likes red, well then, you're already living the good life, but for a modest outlay you can make them happy with something like the 2005 Potel-Aviron Moulin-à-Vent Cuvée Exceptionelle ($27), all fragrant black raspberry and liveliness, and yet another argument towards investigating the sadly underrated world of cru Beaujolais. If you're feeling a tad more flush, on the other hand, the 2006 Domaine Humbert Frères Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru Poissenot ($125) was for me the wine of the night, a very pretty G-C that you'd almost want to take on a date instead of drink, except that it's a bottle of wine and that would be conversationally depressing as the night wore on. Instead, pour yourself (or your best pal) some and enjoy its complex layers of licorice, smoke, wild berry and crisp tannin. It went pretty fabulously with the Wagyu skirt steak Dufresne cooked up. I wish I could say the same for the peanut butter "pasta" (that's right) he served with the steak, but then everybody knows that peanut butter pasta doesn't go with Burgundy. Right?

My upcoming February Tasting Room column will be on Argentina's red wines—a grab-bag of tasty, affordable bottles that isn't quite online yet now it is! In the meantime, though, along with the reds I tasted a number of whites, and was particularly impressed with the quality/price combination offered by Torrontés, Argentina's most distinctive local white grape.

To me, Torrontés recalls the aromatic flamboyance of Muscat combined with the light crispness of Pinot Grigio. In the past, too many examples I tasted were also insipid (also like a lot of Pinot Grigio), but that seems to be changing. The following four all struck me as remarkably tasty wines given what they cost; the first three are from Salta, in the north of Argentina, the next two from subregions of Mendoza, Tupungato and Lujan de Cuyo. Very generally speaking, Torrontés from Mendoza is going to be bigger-boned and riper than that from Salta...

2008 Yellow & Blue Torrontés ($12/1 liter tetra-pak, find this wine). Yellow & Blue uses only organically-grown grapes for its wines. This white balances crisp acidity and a succulent texture, and has an aroma recalling mango blossoms, or what the blossoms of mango trees ought to smell like, as far as I'm concerned.

2007 Terrazes de los Andes Unoaked Torrontes ($18, find this wine). Vineyards at 5,900 feet in Salta provide flinty, almost smoky Torrontés, if this wine is any indication. It doesn't have the extravagantly floral nose of some warmer climate versions, but it trades that for an elegant, intriguing mineral edge.

2007 Sagta Torrontés ($11, find this wine). Again this has a slight smoky note in the aroma, together with bright lime and tangerine; its creamy in texture, with lots of fresh-cut white peach flavor, before narrowing down—in a good way—to a brisk, citrus-zesty end. Has some staying power, too. 

2007 Andeluna Winemaker Selection Torrontés ($13, find this wine). From the Tupungato region, this white smells of mandarin oranges and flowers, and carries those characteristics through in its flavor, adding a pink grapefruit note. That makes it sound quite sweet, but it isn't.

2007 Astica Torrontés ($8, find this wine). In many ways my favorite of this bunch, especially given the price. The Astica has a lovely Meyer lemon/lemon blossom scent, tart citrusy flavors and an edge of citrus zest in the finish. It would be a great seafood wine, or just chill the stuff down and sip it and imagine that it's June, not January....

Sometimes you need a wine that can take a steak and just plain whomp it into submission. And if that's the sort of wine you're looking for, Aglianico isn't a bad grape to consider. Professore Piero Mastroberardino of Mastroberardino, one of Campania's most lauded wineries, stopped by the F&W tasting room the other day with some of his latest red wines, all of which are made from the Aglianico grape ("red wines" used loosely—these were really more black-red in hue). 

Aglianico's notoriously fierce, musclebound with tannins and broodingly aggressive; but it's a heavyweight boxer with a good heart. "It's a tough variety," Prof. Mastroberardino admitted, "but I'm fond of it for its personality. For sure, it's a variety you have to pair with the right food, too. Baby goat, which we put on the table at Easter, and of course game, which is what we put on the table in the Taurasi DOC." I'd add to that any kind of massive, well marbled steak. Or short ribs. Or...

Anyway, look for the 2006 Mastroberardino Aglianico Campania (about $20, click here to find it) for a relatively—that's relatively—gentle intro to this variety, with smooth dark cherry and smoke notes ending on grippy tannins.

The 2004 Mastroberardino Taurasi Radici (about $50, click here to find it) has a touch more wood, with spicy dark cherry fruit held in place by taut, intense tannins and an almost searing end (it would be much better with food). "In my opinion, 2004 has great potential," Prof. M. said. "It will better the 1999; it has superb concentration."

Finally, the 1999 Mastroberardino Taurasi Radici Riserva (about $65, click here to find it) is just lovely—the added age and mellowness it brings underscores the more generous side of the grape. Smoky tea leaf aromas, luscious, slightly wild—animale as the French would say—savory notes, pure cherry fruit, a finish that descends into resinous tannins. Terrific wine, and just as good the second day when I tasted it again. 

This is part three, which is to say the final, the last, the end of the wines for this dinner. Definitely more effort to chronicle them than to drink them, but such is the journalist's life. I'll recap the 1988 Bordeaux tasting from the F&W Classic in the next day or two as well—some amazing wines there, and some not so. Interesting lineup to say the least. Here are the final six from the Schoenfeld dinner:

2005 HDV Carneros Syrah ($50) I seem to have written "blueberry gravel," and while I'm not sure what that is, it does in retrospect seem like an appropriate phrase for this sweet, dense, California Syrah.

2005 Colgin IX Syrah Estate ($300 or so, if you can find it) Ink black, with gamy, savory notes on the nose (and not a little wood), then a powerful, super-extracted, black-fruited Syrah, with fierce tannins and a slathering of cocoa-oak. Impressive, yes. Delightful, well. If you like being hit in the face with a mallet, sure.

2002 Standish Shiraz ($80) Dan Standish sources the fruit for this wine from the eastern side of Barossa, on sandy soils. The aroma was toasty and hard to read in an odd way; the fruit, though, was lovely sweet blackberry, with luscious, fine tannins and a lot of grace despite its size. I wrote that it was "very all fruit all the time," which it is, but I was impressed anyway.

2002 Glaetzer Amon Ra Shiraz ($80ish) OK: the Standish is very good Barossa Shiraz. This is great Barossa Shiraz. A chunk of the fruit comes from 150-year-old vineyards in northwest Barossa, a windy place with sand over clay soils. The scent suggests black olives, chocolate and blackberries with an overlay of red currants, and the flavor follows along those lines, and just fills the mouth. I know plenty of people who would write this off just because it's a blockbuster, New World Shiraz, but I suspect they're also the sort of people who wouldn't understand why driving a Maserati is more fun than driving a Prius.

2000 Fabiano Amarone Della Valpolicella Classico  Pleasant, tarry Amarone but no great shakes. The fruit reminded me of cherry cider, and it had a nice little nip of citrus acidity on the end, but Romano Dal Forno ain't quaking in fear over this one.

2002 Kaesler Old Bastard Shiraz ($160, more or less) I know this is supposed to be up there in Amon-Ra territory (or even more culty, who knows), but to me it shot over the top: superrich elixir of blackberries and sweetness, so ripe and gobular that any nuance seemed drowned in the richness. Perhaps pleasant on pancakes? You got me.

And that's it. No more wines. Just your average little wine dinner in Boulder. I may be recovered enough by May for the next one. We'll see. 

Just to keep going with what I started the other day (or what we finished the other night, depending on how you want to look at it), here are the red wines—and two rosés—from the wine dinner Bruce Schoenfeld hosted on the Tuesday before the 2008 Food & Wine Classic in Aspen. (Photo again by Jeremy Parzen.)

1997 Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia Rosé General agreement could be found around the table that this wasn't the most impressive version of LdH's rosé around; I was part of that gang. Nice enough, with a kind of old book-dried strawberry scent, watermelon-strawberry fruit and a creamy texture, but it didn't have the depth some other vintages have had.

2007 S. C. Pannell McLaren Vale Grenache Rosé All ebullient ripe raspberry fruit and not much else. I wrote at the time, "crisp, juicy and a bit idiotic." 

2004 Sea Smoke Southing Pinot Noir Crunchy ripe raspberry and other berry notes wrapped with sweet spicy tannins. Very ripe Central Coast wine, but with a nice spice element to it. Sea Smoke's gotten a lot of culty praise; I thought this wine was very tasty, but not complex enough to justify raves.

2007 Emilio Bulfon Piculit Neri ($26) I completely rained on Jeremy Parzen's plan to mystify the whatsis out of me by having actually had this wine before—it's obscure as all get-out, but Henry Bishop (who used to run the wine program at Spiaggia in Chicago) once gave me a bottle, oddly enough. I liked it then, and I like it now. The aroma is floral and twiggy and reminiscent of a really good Dolcetto; the flavor is darker and sweeter than most Dolcettos, though, with lovely wild berry and plum notes, ripe but graceful. It's on wine-searcher.com, but strangely only available in Illinois. Go figure.

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