The Boston Phoenix
August 13 - 20, 1998

[Uncorked]

| by restaurant | by cuisine | by location | hot links | food home |
| dining out archive | on the cheap archive | noshing & sipping archive | uncorked archive |


Great import

Buying wine by the back label

Uncorked by Thor Iverson

If you ever run into me in a wine shop, you'll see something a little odd: every once in a while, I'll pick up a bottle, turn it around, and study the back label in detail. No, it's not some sort of obsessive-compulsive behavior, or a keen interest in those ridiculous government warnings; I'm looking for the name of the importer, which is third only to the raw materials and the producer in determining the quality of a wine.

You might assume an importer's job is simply to get things from there to here. And while importers do fulfill that function, their influence (and responsibility) goes far beyond it. Importers have a lot of power in the wine trade, and they use that power to influence (or sometimes, dictate) producers' winemaking techniques from vineyard to bottle. For wines that meet their requirements, importers are often willing to pay a premium to the producer; wines tailored for an importer are often very different from wines destined for markets that importer does not serve.

"Hey, wait a minute," you're protesting. "If that's true, isn't the importer practically making the wine?" Well, yes. And that's why the importer is so, ahem, important.

Some importers exert this pressure because they're enamored of a particular style, perhaps one high in oak with low acidity. If that style is to your liking, then you've found a new friend in that importer. But the majority of importers make demands on their producers for a different reason: quality control. Winemakers, especially in Europe, used to be painfully unaware that there was a competitive market outside their own front door. Entire winemaking regions often let quality slip to levels that were simply unacceptable in a world where there's a lot of fantastic wine from many different regions, believing that because they drank nothing but their own wine, no one else could either. Importers are at least partially responsible for changing that.

Another consumer-friendly change goes back to the first duty of an importer: shipment. Wine is a delicate thing and doesn't respond well to heat or frequent changes in temperature. But when a bottle of wine leaves a winemaker's cellar, what happens to it? It sits in a big metal truck, baking for hours or days (or weeks, during one of those too-frequent French trucker strikes) as it's taken to the nearest port. Then it's loaded onto a ship, where it sits in another hot container during the transoceanic journey. Finally it arrives here, where it's loaded onto yet another hot truck and carted to a warehouse without air conditioning, then via another truck to the retailer.

That is, this all happens unless the importer is willing to shell out the bucks for refrigeration every step of the way; refrigerated trucks in the country of origin and the US, "reefers" (temperature-controlled containers) on the ship, and air-conditioned warehouses here in the States. Importers who care do this. Others lie about it. There are, unfortunately, probably more of the latter.

There's also a new breed of importer that seeks out small, artisanal producers making wine in authentically traditional ways rather than the assembly-line "international" style (one often mandated by importers). Kermit Lynch, a California importer responsible for many of the positive changes listed above, is the leading proponent of this method, but there are many others.

There are quite a few importers I like -- and a few I don't -- but there are five that, for me, stand above the crowd. If I see one of their names on the back (or front) of a bottle, I'll break my usual rule and buy without tasting. I'm rarely disappointed. Those five are Kermit Lynch, Neal Rosenthal, Leonardo LoCascio (specializing in Italian wine, imported by Winebow), Terry Theise (specializing in German and Austrian wine, and artisanal Champagne, usually imported by Milton S. Kronheim), and Jorge Ordonez (a/k/a Fine Estates from Spain, specializing in Spanish wine, represented in Massachusetts by MRR Traders).

A few wines from these importers:

1995 Bodegas Nekeas Vega Sindoa Cabernet Sauvignon/Tempranillo ($8.99). One of the best values on the market. A hulking monster of a wine, yet still fun, delivering waves of cassis, chocolate, licorice, peppers, leather, and smoky herbs. Very well balanced for such a massive wine. The '96, available now, is just as good. Imported by Jorge Ordonez/MRR Traders.

1995 Domaine Forey Bourgogne ($17.99). As affordable as Burgundy gets, a tightly wound bundle of fresh berries that needs an hour or so of air to open up. Has the delicate balance that only Burgundy achieves with pinot noir. Imported by Neal Rosenthal.

1995 Domaine le Sang des Cailloux Vacqueyras ($11.79). Plum, raw herb, and black cherries dominate this rustic yet seductive Rhone, with a strong leathery tannin structure, some nice earthy notes, and an incredible finish that indicates a long future. Needs at least two hours of air. Imported by Kermit Lynch.

1996 Glatzer Zweigelt Riedencuvée Carnuntum Trocken ($8.99). An Austrian red? Yes! Violets, roses, and black pepper on the nose, with a dusty mango-papaya-blackberry flavor supported by a more serious leather and tobacco character. A year or so might balance it out. Imported by Terry Theise/Milton S. Kronheim.

1994 Arigolas Perdera Monica di Sardegna ($8.99). Smoke, earth, decaying game (all good things, trust me), with a truffled palate that doesn't show its fruit without some air. Fully mature. The '96 is available in stores now. Imported by Leonardo LoCascio/Winebow.

Thor Iverson can be reached at wine[a]phx.com.


The Uncorked archive



[Footer]