My sister and I like to get together over a bottle of wine. Sometimes we even include dinner in our itinerary. We recently went to Landmarc restaurant in Tribeca, which is known for its relatively low markup on wines and a large selection of half-bottles. The food is very good as well.

My sister much prefers red wine, so we started with a Californian Pinot Noir, which wouldn’t compete with our salad selections. When that half-bottle had been finished, I returned to the wine list to make a new choice. My sister has previously shown a regard for full-bodied, fruity red wines, so I suggested a California Zinfandel. She blanched at the suggestion.

What’s wrong, I asked? I would think that you would like Zinfandels, given some of the other wines we have enjoyed together in the past. But I don’t like pale, sweet wines, she protested. Aha! The problem became crystal clear. My sister thought I was referring to "White Zinfandel," the great marketing success of Sutter Home (and also produced by others).

Trust me, I said and went on to explain that Zinfandel is indeed a red grape, whose parentage is linked to a variety, which originated in Croatia. It only appears on the shelves as a blush wine because people favored white wines in the 1970s (somehow thinking that white wines were healthier than reds) and it was too costly for vineyards to replant from one variety to the next. With a shortened period of leaving the juice on the grape skins just a glimmer of color is extracted. Hence, White Zinfandel was born. A clamor for a problem batch of wine which had a higher than usual residual sugar sealed its fate and became the ubiquitous White Zin, tarnishing the reputation of this bold and spicy RED wine.

The server brought out the new selection and, after tasting it and giving her the go ahead to pour, my sister’s glass was filled with deep, ruby liquid. I urged her to taste it and share her opinion. Yes, she was pleased. This was not the wine she initially thought it would be. I advised her that its synonym was Primativo, should she dine out in an Italian restaurant, the other "home" of the Zinfandel grape.

Whether she cared for the history and geography lesson, I can’t say, but by the end of the evening, there wasn’t any wine left in the bottle or in her glass.

Last night, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend one session from Kevin Zraly’s Windows on the World wine class. Kevin’s corresponding text was the first wine book I ever read, copyright 1985 (I read it in the early 1990s). Someday I am going to get him to sign it for me. It is a great read, especially for consumers, and a more current edition (2006) is available.

The class topic was red wines from Burgundy and Cotes du Rhone. Kevin is a lively instructor and really gets the class excited about learning and tasting.

As Kevin kept reminding his audience, the main red grape in Burgundy is Pinot Noir and we tasted six different Burgundian Pinot Noirs. The other red grape from Burgundy is Gamay, but its production is primarily limited to Beaujolais, which we also tasted, along with two Rhone wines.

The first Rhone wine (which was the penultimate wine) was a Crozes-Hermitage, which represented the Northern Rhone and was a bargain at $15. The second and last wine was a Chateauneuf du Pape, which hails from the Southern Rhone, and was the only blend of the evening, Chateauneufs being permitted to include 13 different varieties of grapes.

All of the wines were quite good and we were privileged to taste a Grand Cru Burgundy (my notes are at home, so I can’t recall in which vineyard it was born) from the 1999 vintage, which came directly from Kevin’s own cellar.

As with all things Grand Cru (especially Grand Cru Classes), it was superb, probably my favorite wine of the evening. But, at an estimated $125 (if you can even find it), I won’t be drinking much of it in the future. The Premier Crus are often better values and as Kevin noted, the Village level wines from the villages with the highest number of Grand Crus are an excellent choice in hedging one’s bets and pocketbook.

Unfortunately, I have neither the time, nor the energy, just now to provide a detailed explanation of the levels within Burgundy. However, in a nut shell, Village level wines (just list the name of the village on them) can come from grapes grown anywhere in the village and may not be the best ones.

Premier Cru wines (include the name of the village, followed by the name of the vineyard) are made from grapes from that particular vineyard, which was rated as "Premier Cru" due to the soil and microclimate.

Grand Cru wines will often just have the name of the vineyard (be careful, there is a lot of overlap in village names and vineyard names) on the label and are produced from the most highly rated "Grand Cru" vineyards.

At my Sparkling Wines of the World class, the latter portion of the day was devoted to a mock exam, whereby we were presented with three blind samples on which to write tasting notes (and guess each wine’s origins) as well as write an answer to an essay question in an alloted 30 minutes.

The essay stated, "Great wine is made in the vineyard. Explain how this is true in Champagne." My unedited response, which I read aloud for the class, follows:

"Great wine is made in the vineyard." While it is vinification that actually produces the wine, it is only through the precise balance of all factors that a truly great wine can be made. This notion is particularly evident in the Champagne region of France, which produces the greatest sparkling wines in the world. Though other regions are known for making good sparkling wines, it is the unique terroir of Champagne that is responsible for the high quality of wines that are so highly regarded.

The unique terroir of Champage can be attributed to several factors, which include the grape varieties, climate, geography of the region, viticultural practices and the soil. Particularly, it is the limestone, chalky soils of Champagne that form the best vineyards. These soils impart the mineral quality of Champagne wines. The chalky whiteness also helps to reflect light onto the grapes, helping to ripen them.

The climate itself, which is marginal at best, actually adds to the quality of the wine by ensuring that the grapes don’t overripen. The cool, continental climate means that the grapes must contend with winter kill and spring frost. However, it also retains the crisp acidity in the grapes that do survive and mature. This acidity plays a key role in the flavor of the wine as well as in retaining a low alcohol level, permitting the secondary fermentation to take place. 

The geography and topography are used to advantage to overcome some of the climate’s perils. Specifically, planting on hillsides and east-facing slopes increases sun exposure and adds to the warmth of the vineyard. Similarly, the viticultural practices of using Taille Chablis trellising and pruning help to protect the grapes from the cool temperatures. Other measures such as aspersion and spraying from helicopters provide further frost protection.

The viticultural practice proscribed for vine density of 6,000-10,000 vines/hectare results in quality grapes, as the vines compete with one another for space and nutrients. The blend of the three grapes themselves — Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier — are also responsible for the quality of the wine. These grapes each impart their own special qualities to the blend: acidity and finesse from Chardonnay; body and aromas from Pinot Noir; and body and a mushroom character from the Pinot Meunier. Together, they produce a wine that is more complex than the sum of its parts.

These aspects of Champage’s unique terroir conspire to produce high quality fruit that is well-suited to the vinicultural practices that follow in the production of a sparkling wine. Thus, the quality of the wine ultimately produced is a direct result of everything that went on in the vineyard prior to harvest. Consequently, great wine is indeed made in the vineyard.

Yes, this is a shameless plug, but I am so excited for my first real published work, that I just had to share it. My article on my experiences as a Diploma of Wine & Spirits candidate with the WSET appears in the latest edition of the Wine Press and is now available online. Enjoy!

I have been remiss in posting, but have been quite busy with my WSET Diploma studies. My fellow classmate joined me one Sunday morning to taste through ten different sparkling wines. We carefully tasted each one to try and discover what made it unique from the others so that we will be able to identify it on our upcoming exam. The Cava had a faint burnt rubber aroma, while the Proseccos were much more fruity and floral. The Champagne was the most autolytic in character — yeasty, bready aromas and flavors. Four hours later, we had compiled a comprehensive set of tasting notes and had a better appreciation for the various nuances among sparkling wines. With ten opened bottles, a few were poured down the drain (they shall remain nameless) and the rest were enjoyed, albeit a little less bubbly, over the course of the week with my husband. With sparkling wines behind us, we will next turn our attention to spirits with a tasting session this weekend.

Last night’s class was devoted to the study of brandy, which is, by definition, a spirit made from the distillation of grapes. Among the finest brandies are Cognac and Armagnac, both from France. The former is located north of Bordeaux, while Armagnac comes from the Dordorgne, east of Bordeaux. These spirits are aged a minimum of six months after distillation and are often bottled much later, with bottles labeled XO containing a blend of distillate aged a minimum of 7 years for Cognac and 6 years for Armagnac.

We tasted through eight brandies, primarily Cognacs, along with Grappa (made from the skins of grapes already pressed into wine), Armagnac and a Gran Riserva Brandy from Spain. The highest quality Cognac we tasted was a blend of wines aged between 10 and 70 years old. 

Tasting spirits is hard work, as the alcohol (40% abv) makes it difficult to sniff and sip without dulling your senses too much. The professional way to taste spirits is to cut the tasting portion with up to half as much pure/neutral water. This permits the taster to smell the aromas without burning his/her olfactory nodes. Spitting is, of course, essential, if one wants to stay alert and focused.

After class, a group of us continued our inquiry with an additional tasting session. The conditions were slightly less than ideal as we struggled to pull together a spitoon and tasting glasses from the items available in one classmate’s hotel suite. Nevertheless, we did successfully manage to taste through another 10 spirits, expanding beyond brandy into vodka, rum and whiskey/whisky.

By the end of the night (11:00 PM), having tasted through nearly 20 samples, we were all quite palate fatigued as well as generally fatigued as we bid our farewells and headed home. We were no longer quite as spirtied as we had been at the start of class, but we were much wiser about spirits.