Morrell & Company Blog

The weekend for me typically is my time to relax and clear my head from work.  

That means you will normally find me in the kitchen for a good part of Saturday and Sunday, as I am all about cooking low and slow, and multi-step classic dishes.  

With the current state of NYC, I find myself combining my normal weekend routine with work, as well as checking in with many of my colleagues across the wine business and restaurant business. Not to mention, communicating with my retail team that is working remotely, and trying to keep business operating as normal as possible.

This past weekend I started a new endeavour - combining a bit of work into my typical weekend routine. That means you will normally find me in the kitchen for a good part of Saturday and Sunday, as I am all about cooking low and slow, and multi-step classic dishes. 
 
With the current state of the wine industry and restaurant industry in NYC, it has made for some pretty hectic days trying to keep connected and up-to-date with my team, friends, and family. 

Close your eyes and imagine that you don’t know what’s in the glass in front of you. You swirl and sniff, allowing its mature aromatics to take hold of you and pull you closer. You still find vibrant dark red fruit, along with a dusting of savory spice, hints of cedar and something that reminds you just a bit of damp earth, or possibly animal musk. As you take your first sip, you immediately know it’s from Italy, due to the silkiest of textures being washed across your palate by zesty acids. Its fruits are soft now, mature, but there  is still something primary. Now you open your eyes and notice that the color is a deep red, with just a hint of browning toward the rim, yet this wine looks impossibly young....You grab the bottle and look at the table in a mixture of fascination and surprise--you’re drinking a twenty-year-old Chianti Classico, and it’s one of the best wines you’ve ever tasted.

How can this be?

What does it mean for a wine to “get better”? This is something I’ve wondered for a long time. And while there is certainly no shortage of information available on this topic, what I really wanted to find out is if I like older wines. I’ve read plenty of tasting notes, but what do these storied cuvees actually taste like?

For me, part of the allure of an older bottle is actually possessing it for years, so that when you finally open it, you can ponder the things that have occured to you over all that time. Therefore, the idea of simply purchasing older vintages never really appealed to me. So, about 7 years ago I started collecting a few bottles, deciding to educate myself on what I like over the span of years. However, I’ve been growing anxious waiting for these gems to mature and have begun to buy older ones for special occasions. It was with this in mind that I decided to have a few friends over to explore the topic of age. 

We look to Italy, from north to south, at many of the great red wines that come to mind. Just ten years ago, it was only Barolo, Brunello and a smattering of Super Tuscans. Back then, the wines of Etna were in their infant stages, and Taurasi had proven itself only to the insiders, collectors and Italophiles. Chianti Classico was still associated with pizza parlors, and Barbaresco was nothing more than the little sister to Barolo. However, all of that has changed in recent years. No longer do we need to make excuses for Aglianico, Sicily, or Barbaresco’s unique attributes. As for Chianti, now it's giving Brunello a run for its money. However, there is one wine that you’ve probably heard rumblings of, that hasn’t risen to the occasion, and that’s Sagrantino...

Here we are, quickly approaching the end of 2019, a year that seemed to fly by due to just how jam-packed it was with events, tastings, and memorable moments. It was also a year of new discoveries, which I consider myself lucky to have been a part of, and I am very happy to share these with my readers. I gained a new respect for a region that I had dismissed to a certain degree, and in doing so have now opened my eyes to a category of domestic wine that will be filling my cellar for decades to come. As for tastings, I was fortunate to have been included in some of the most amazing events I can remember throughout my time as a wine lover, which became apparent as I toiled with the winner of my Top Back-Vintage Wine of the Year. 

Thanksgiving dinner can be a little difficult to pair with because there are so many diverse flavors on the table. Turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes (some sweeter than dessert with pineapples on top--a family favorite), mashed potatoes, candied carrots, corn... And can anyone say roasted brussels sprouts (a favorite of mine)—the list goes on and on.

Luckily, I’ve had a lot of experience pairing wine at Thanksgiving, and, trust me, I’ve been let down plenty of times. However, we learn from our failures, and the list below is my list of wines that are sure to succeed. Each one should be versatile enough to handle an array of traditional and unique side dishes, and of course, they will pair perfectly with turkey.

In the world of wine, there are producers who can boast of having created a style, some on purpose and others through luck or by accident. There are others that can lay claim to having put their region on the map, which is often a case of either a generational shift in the winery or the discovery and promotion of the region by a personality in the wine business. Then there are those who changed the way we looked upon an entire region, which brings modern-day Spain to mind, as visionaries are rethinking everything traditional producers thought they knew.

However, what we seldom hear of today is a producer within one of the world’s most highly regarded, delineated, and researched wine-producing  regions, who defined a vineyard’s potential and brought that piece of land to prominence. That is exactly what Renato Cigliuti accomplished with the Serraboella vineyard in Neive, Barbaresco. 

There I was, sitting across from Chris Camarda, tasting through eleven vintages of Sorella. The first moment I put my nose to that glass of 1995, I knew we were all in for a treat. To say that the wines of Andrew Will can mature just as well as the top Bordeaux blends from around the world would be an understatement. Each vintage of Sorella was simply gorgeous, maturing beautifully, no matter the blend, the winemaking, and the vintage itself.

I love my kids. More than anything. But, I also love entertaining. And, sometimes the former makes the latter just a tad more complicated than it should be. I’ve always thought that a great challenge on Top Chef would be to prepare a 5-course meal while babysitting two children. And that’s exactly what it feels like I’m doing whenever I host a dinner party.

Follow this weeks guest blogger, ER Silverbush, as he balances preparing dinner and wine pairings for friends with the responsibilties of being a dad.

The inspiration that caused me to begin typing today is the 2017 vintage and how impressed I’ve been as I’ve tasted these wines. One thing I would like to point out is that the majority of my tastings have been of the “tradition-level” bottles from producers. You know what I mean, right? I am talking about the “entry-level” village bottles--which happen to be the classic wines, typically the producers’ best expressions of house style, using a “traditional” blend of Rhone varieties, and are also your best bet for a Rhone wine to pair well with a meal. 

Few grapes can match the versatility of Riesling – thus it is often dubbed “King of Grapes” and “World’s Greatest Grape”. My own journey into wine  began with Riesling as well, with a Mosel Kabinett in fact, a 2001 Max Ferdinand Richter Wehlener Sonnenuhr Riesling Kabinett. And here begins the difficulty of deciphering German labels for many wine lovers – what do all those words mean?

The problem I had for the longest time with Abruzzo wine was the disparity between the simply made “entry-level” wines and those of the top producers. I recall many evenings sipping a $15 Montepulciano d’Abruzzo and being perfectly satisfied. As well as other occasions, where I would be lucky to be tasting Valentini Trebbiano or Emido Pepe Pecorino–again, satisfied, but at a much higher price point. The problem was, what was in the middle? Each time I tried to find a more important expression of these varieties without breaking the bank, I would find an oak-influenced, overripe Montepulciano or simple and flat Pecorino.

I spent years looking for that up-and-coming or under-the-radar producer that cared about varietal character, terroir and making honest wine. And then, one day, I found her...
 

In my glass was something that I hadn’t experienced before. I liked it quite a  bit, but I couldn’t place it. It was Cabernet Sauvignon at the core, with a small mix of other Bordeaux varietals, but it wasn’t Bordeaux. Nor was it Napa or Sonoma, as its fruit had a focus with a sensation of crackling minerality on the palate, and the tannins were more Old World, as opposed to the rounded, sweet tannins I associated with California. I asked to see the bottle, and lo and behold, it was a Washington State Bordeaux blend.

I stopped tasting immediately, removed myself from the horde of thirsty customers, found a salesperson, and bought a case.

Readers of my work know that I love Barolo, and Sangiovese.  They also know that I have developed a love for the new wave of Spanish wines, as well as well-balanced Rhones–both north and south.  However, what most of my readers don’t know is that I have something of a secret passion. Not a secret because I’m embarrassed of it, or because I try to hide it in any way, but because most other wine drinkers ignore this category or discard it all together.  The secret passion is for Merlot.

It all started two years ago, with a trip that found me in Rioja, Ribera del Duero and Toro.  That was the inception point, the moment when I realized that there was so much more to this region than I had realized.  The stories behind each location enthralled me. These were not wines produced by grand Chateaux.  These wines were rooted in the history of merchants, farmers, and laborers. People who planted vines generations ago, struggling to provide for their families and survive, with wine being used as a commodity or for sustenance.

Looking back over the last 14 years of collecting and tasting Barolo, there has been no other vintage which has provided me more intellectual stimulation, anticipation and sheer pleasure as 1989.  I still look back upon my first experience and how naive I was, having been invited to an ‘89 Barolo and Barbaresco dinner by a good and generous friend, who provided all of the wines. I remember the talk around the table as the other attendees spoke in depth about their expectations for the ‘89s. 

Today I’d like to call attention to a village in France that really doesn’t receive the respect it deserves, at least from those who have yet to properly experience what its wines are capable of.  In fact, maybe I should stop right there, because I’m about to talk about Burgundy, a region where limited allocations and increased prices have made it difficult for collectors to add their favorite wines to their cellars.  Maybe the best thing to do is to allow one of my favorite corners of the Burgundy world to continue to fly under the radar, in hopes that the wines will remain as fairly priced and available as they are today.

When I think of Oregon Pinot Noir, a seven-year-old Yo-Yo Ma playing the cello for the greats of the musical and political world comes to mind. Oregon’s meteoric rise is hardly less shocking than the poise and presence of the young musician. In just two decades, the acres under vine in Oregon more than tripled, the number of wineries increased over 500%, and its place on wine lists across the globe has been assured. When one reaches for a bottle of American Pinot Noir, it is Oregon that comes to mind. While some of the meteoric rise can be attributed to the growing popularity of the grape itself, the interest in quality and the dedication to the terroir and climate of the region is what propelled Oregon wine, and Willamette Pinot Noir specifically, to the forefront.

As far as professional critics go, the word on the 2015 Barolo vintage couldn’t be more mixed. The first report to hit our inboxes was from James Suckling (a report actually written by his Senior Editor, Nick Stock). From the headline alone, you could tell that he was a big fan of the vintage, stating, “BAROLO 2015 BEST VINTAGE SINCE 2010 – MAYBE BETTER.” Since my first tasting of a 2015 Barolo, the vintage was being called a “Critic’s Vintage” by producers, meaning that in Piedmont, locals have come to feel that warmer years receive the bigger press. This shouldn’t surprise anyone when you consider the hype over 2000 and 2007. Even 2011 had its champions. However, the big surprise came when Antonio Galloni of Vinous Media posted his report and tasting notes, calling the vintage warm, uneven, and suggesting that readers would have better luck looking to the best wines of 2014, or waiting for 2016.