This beautiful 300-hectare estate in Castelnuovo Berardenga, the southernmost of the Chianti Classico zones, has long been one of the great wine producers in all of Tuscany. The estate (with 54 hectares devoted to vineyards) is owned and led by the formidable Principessa Coralia Pignatelli della Leonessa, with whom I had the good fortune to have lunch with several years back. She is as elegant and charming as you might expect and has a great sense of humor. She got a big kick out of the old joke we told her: “How do you make a small fortune in the wine business? Begin with a large fortune.”

Castell’in Villa produces traditionally made Chianti Classico from 100 percent sangiovese, fermented in stainless steel using indigenous yeasts and then aged for two-to-three years in large barrels before bottling. They produce classic, extremely age-worthy wines, yet they are wines that never come across as being severe in their youth.

The 2018 is an absolute gem, beautifully balanced with deep cherry fruit, sandalwood, licorice, and the typical earthy, forest-floor notes of the Berardenga zone.

Principessa Coralia Pignatelli della Leonessa

This vintage has produced a great bottle to drink now with just about anything–meats, poultry, pasta, eggplant parmigiana, I could go on. It’s a lovely and generous wine, a bit more forward than the 2016 and a little less fleshy and ripe than the 2017. But the ’18 is so balanced and harmonious, with good structure, that it will no doubt age gracefully for many years, as do nearly all Chianti Classico wines from Castell’in Villa. Don’t miss it.

Let’s face it: Words like “charm” and “finesse” are not often used to describe aglianico wines. The thick-skinned aglianico grape, which thrives in the warmer climes of Southern Italy, produces wines known for their concentrated dark fruit, robust tannins, and earthy richness. These bottles usually need several years (decades?) to open up, and even then, they can still be knotty, powerful beasts that favor intensity over balance.

However, if you dig a little deeper, you can find aglianico wines that temper that inherent muscle with complex, appealing elements of tobacco, spice, and underbrush. Factor in the grape’s naturally high acidity and the mineral notes imparted from the region’s volcanic soil, and it’s easy to see how–at its best–aglianico can reach heights that few other grapes can achieve.

The slopes of Monte Vulture, an extinct volcano in Basilicata

The two most significant appellations for aglianico are Taurasi, which is about an hour or so east of Naples in the hills of Campania, and Aglianico del Vulture, with its vineyards on the slopes of Monte Vulture in mountainous Basilicata. Generally speaking, Taurasi wines tend to be a bit more vigorous and Vulture wines a tad more restrained–sort of like the Barolo vs. Barbaresco distinction for Piemontese nebbiolo–although there are always exceptions.

At Paul Marcus Wines, we’re fortunate to have a few prime examples of aglianico that find an attractive balance between power and elegance. Let’s start with the 2015 San Martino Aglianico del Vulture Superiore ‘Kamai’–about as graceful and light on its feet as aglianico gets. Made from 60-to-70-year-old vines from a single plot at an altitude of nearly 2,000 feet, this wine undergoes a two-month maceration and ages in wood for about a year before resting in bottle for at least three years. Boasting gorgeous vibrant fruit and loads of acidity, the San Martino feels almost Burgundian in style. (Unfortunately, we only have a few bottles left of this dazzling gem.)

Also from the Basilicata side, we have the 2019 Fucci Aglianico del Vulture ‘Titolo.’ Elena Fucci produces just this one cuvee from her vineyard more than 2,000 feet up in the Titolo lava channel, with most of the vines planted in the 1950s. After a manual harvest, the juice undergoes malolactic fermentation in 100 percent new French oak barrels. Herbaceous and savory, with notes of black tea and exotic spice, this wine will certainly benefit from a few more years of cellaring, but it’s already highly enjoyable (after a bit of decanting) with, say, a hearty bowl of pasta with pancetta, shallots, and sage leaves.

Finally, we have a couple of superb bottlings from Taurasi’s Michele Perillo, coming from some of the highest-elevation vines in the area. The 2010 Perillo Taurasi offers tannic brawn and deep, dark fruit with a freshness and vivacity that you get from the high-altitude vines. Better still is the 2009 Perillo Taurasi Riserva, which is made from Perillo’s best lots of fruit. This wine is softer, rounder, smoother, and more voluptuous than its counterpart, yet still delivers incredible energy and liveliness. These two jewels sell for about half the price of a Barolo of similar quality, and they will sing beautifully with all manner of roasted or braised red meats.

Though nebbiolo and sangiovese rule the roost of Italian red wine, these fine offerings prove that, in the hands of talented winemakers, aglianico can certainly hang with the big boys.

Organic, biodynamic, natural–what does it all mean? Truthfully, these terms have become a jumble, even for wine professionals, and navigating them is not an easy task. Among industry folk, it is an ever-evolving conversation–especially since the discourse now includes everything from growing techniques to winemaking ideology to ethics.

The team here at Paul Marcus Wines cares about these big-picture topics, and we feel it’s our Bacchus-given duty to involve you, our customers, the people who make our world go ‘round, in the discussion.

Organic Viticulture and Winemaking

Wine is an agricultural product, and all of us are increasingly treating it as such; it is food, after all, and we want to know what we are putting in our bodies. The benefits of organic agriculture are clear–eliminating chemical fertilizers or pesticides creates biodiversity, supports the ecosystem, combats climate change, and actually cultivates more nutritious food than conventional farming practices. For fresh vegetables and fruits, the conversation typically stops there (though we are now becoming more aware of labor ethics and transportation costs). However, the moment we take that product and put it through a process, we have more questions, and we instinctively flip to the back label on the jar.

With the exception of United States viticulture, organic certifications in wine really only apply to viticulture–to the actual growing and treatment of the grapes before they are harvested and enter the cellar. Once in the cellar, most bets are off. While the grapes may not have been grown with pesticides and chemicals, your wine can still have all sorts of additives in it, and the only requirement is that those additives are also certified organic.

Many grape growers and winemakers are sincere, and seek the organic certification because they truly believe in its holistic philosophy, but technically speaking, unless you ask all the questions (or trust your local wine shop to ask them for you, *wink *wink), you really cannot know.

In the United States, a USDA Organic wine certification largely affects cellar practices, which some believe is creating a damaging marketing discrepancy between domestic and international wines. Organic domestic wines cannot have any sulfur added at any stage of the winemaking. This ban on sulfur use is not realistic for many winemakers, so they opt instead to put on their back label, “Made with organically grown grapes.” In this scenario, the grapes are organically farmed, and the winemaker has more freedom in their winemaking choices.

What Does “Natural” Actually Mean?

Natural is a complicated term because it really has no definition. Sure, we know what it implies, but there are no actual parameters for a wine to be natural. For this reason, there are a lot of wolves in sheep’s clothing out there, and our savvy, capitalist market knows how to, well, capitalize on this freedom.

Skin-contact wines in clear bottles have almost become synonymous with natural. Add a crown cap, and awoogah! Yet, a clear bottle with hazy liquid should not be your only indicator that the grapes were grown organically (or biodynamically), or that the wine was not manipulated or pumped up with
additives in the winemaking process.

A huge concern these days is sulfur additions. It’s a valid concern–when sulfur exceeds a certain threshold, it becomes toxic, and some people truly do have a sensitivity (even when it is present in smaller amounts). At the same time, it is also a naturally occurring element, and winemakers have been using it as a preservative since the (somewhat) ancient days. Like all things, I believe it’s about balance. Sulfur is a preservative and, especially for wines we consume from overseas, it can be a necessary addition.

Even with no sulfite additions, a wine label is legally obligated to tell you it “contains sulfites,” because the truth is, we can’t avoid them completely (it’s a byproduct of fermentation). Naturally occurring sulfites usually come in between 10-20mg/L. Minimal sulfite additions usually come in under 60mg/L. These are very small numbers when compared to the permissible 150mg-250mg/L for conventional wines. And just think: The average dried fruit package contains 220mg of sulfites!

Like all things in this global market, defining terms and getting everyone on the same page is complicated and near impossible. But we shouldn’t shy away just because it is so. The folks here at Paul Marcus Wines are here for just that: to ask the difficult questions so you can have more control over your choices.

For a wine to find its way to the shop’s shelves, it goes through an entire tasting-panel discussion between our buyers. We ask our importers questions about growing and winemaking practices so we can relay the information and help you to make the best selection. For those looking for low-to-no-additive wines, we have increased our selections and have been working on clearly identifying wines with no sulfur addition (00) and low sulfur addition. We are here to help you navigate wine labels and their lingo.

To that end, here are a few definitions of important terms related to winemaking practices:

Conventional: No certifications. It is free-form and follows the rules set forth by a larger governing body, such as the USDA. In the context of viticulture, it typically means that the vines are treated with chemicals and the wine itself can also be pumped with additives (sugar additions, acid additions, fining agents, etc.). Most of your generic grocery-store wine will fall into this category.

Natural: No certifications. A loose term that has no defined parameters, but many use it to define low-intervention, low-additive wine made with (fingers crossed) organically grown grapes. It should be considered on a case-by-case basis.

Sustainable: Certifications in this realm exist in California (CCSW), the Pacific Northwest (LIVE), and New Zealand (SWNZ), among other niche programs. All these have different codes, but they apply to sustainability often beyond viticulture and winemaking (for example, renewable energy and labor laws). In the EU, there is no official certification, and it is a rather loose term (like “natural”) that still permits for herbicides, pesticides, and additions in the cellar. It should be considered on a case-by-case basis.

Organic: In the EU, the term applies only to viticulture and grape growing, where only copper and sulfur sprays can be used to control disease pressure. In the United States, it means the same agriculturally, but also applies to winemaking. For domestic wines, it is a very restrictive certification; for EU wines, it allows for conventional-like freedom in the cellars.

Biodynamic: This practice follows all the organic principles, but the main difference is that grape growers are required to prepare certain treatments according to the biodynamic code in the vineyard. It requires the grower to be in tune with natural growing cycles of the moon and natural treatments, such as compost prepared on site. Additions and manipulations in the winemaking process are slightly more restrictive than for organic wines.

Demeter: This term is one we do not hear or see too often, but it’s the closest certification to “natural” out there–it is the most restrictive when it comes to additions in the winery, and even requires spontaneous fermentation (no selected yeasts). It applies to winemaking in the cellar, not agriculture or viticulture. However, a Demeter winery must grow or use certified biodynamic grapes.

Yes, it’s a lot to digest, but rest assured, there’s something for everyone in the shop. Come on in, chat us up, and leave with the right wine for you.

— Emilia Aiello

Juan Francisco Fariña Pérez–JuanFra to people who know him well–is making some of the most exciting wines on the Canary Islands. His winery is located in Arafo, which is in northeastern Tenerife and serves as the hub of the Valle de Güímar DO. JuanFra calls his wine project Los Loros, named for the laurel shrubs that inhabit the upper elevations of the Valle de Güímar.

Farming in these parts is primarily conventional, but JuanFra favors a more holistic approach, while practicing organic and incorporating some biodynamic methods. The vines that JuanFra cultivates are primarily listán blanco and albillo criollo, located adjacent to the winery. Other vineyard sources higher up the mountainside offer an array of local varietals, with varying elevations up to 1,400 meters. The terrain in this neck of the woods is mostly volcanic sand, with some clay and limestone dotted in and around; abundant sunshine is moderated by the cooling Atlantic trade winds.

JuanFra’s winemaking philosophy delivers wines that are gorgeously pure and elegant expressions of these indigenous varietals, without being too serious (or reductive). Whole clusters when fermenting reds? Check. Gentle pressings and very minimal, if any, SO2 additions? Check. We all should strive to drink more wines like these going forward.

His 2020 Los Loros Listán Negro comes from 40-50-year-old vines at altitudes ranging from 700 to 1,300 meters. This wine spends a relatively short few months in old wood, and it shines brightly, with a savory salinity accompanying its smooth tannins and spicy red fruit. Time to char some broccoli and grill some sausages!

The 2019 Los Loros Listán Blanco de Canarias hails from two separate parcels, about 30 to 40 years old, and it offers a wonderful mix of fruit and volcanic minerality that screams for fried fish, or any richly flavored wonder of the sea for that matter.

Other Canary Island producers we carry here at Paul Marcus Wines include Suertes del Marqués, whose 2017 Vidonia cuvee, made from ungrafted listán blanco, will remind you of a top-notch white burgundy with its impeccable balance of fruit, minerality, structure, and length. Then there’s the 2019 Envinate Taganan Tinto, a benchmark field blend perfect for anyone who’s curious about Canary Islands wines, and a kaleidoscopic vision of what red varietals can produce from this volcanic terroir. Finally, we have the 2019 Envinate Taganan Margalagua Tinto, an exceptional wine that comes from a steep, very special single centenarian parcel that includes a dizzying assortment of red varietals. Subtle and saline, it’s a unique bottling to say the least.

To learn more about the stimulating, progressive wines of the Canary Islands, please come and visit us at the shop.

Dominique Lafon, the legendary Burgundy producer, must’ve raised a few eyebrows when he invested in the Mâconnais more than two decades ago. What would inspire a winemaking superstar based in Meursault–one of the most prized villages in Burgundy and all the world–to venture south into this decidedly second-rate region? Lafon trusted his instincts, and it turns out that, as usual, he knew what he was doing.

Perhaps more than anyone, Lafon, along with longtime winemaker Caroline Gon, helped restore and resuscitate the reputation of Mâcon chardonnay. Once known more as a consolation prize for those who couldn’t afford “real” Burgundy, the Mâconnais today produces wines of prestige and pedigree while still offering great opportunities for the value-driven consumer. Look no further than the wines of Les Héritiers du Comte Lafon, which Dominique Lafon founded in 1999.

 

With no oak influence, loads of bright acidity, and a steely, sleek minerality, you might mistake the 2020 Mâcon-Milly-Lamartine for a Chablis…until you get that pop of ripe orchard fruit and lemon curd that tells you this is, indeed, Mâcon. Lafon gets most of the grapes–all biodynamic–from his highest-elevation vineyard in the region, with nearly 40-year-old vines at an altitude of 350 meters.

An amazing combo of palate-cleansing freshness and deep, complex fruit, this would pair extremely well with pan-seared chicken breast in a white wine, shallot, and cream sauce. And at just over 30 bucks, it offers Burgundian brilliance at an attractive price.

I

I find more joy in a simple glass of wine these days than I ever have. Yet that course correction comes amidst a wee paradox: Except for when I was a graduate student, I’m drinking, on average, the least expensive wine of my life–but it’s not cheap.

Julien Sunier of Beaujolais: a producer who does things the “right way”

Do I care less about wine? Or people? The pandemic–that revealing accelerant–has changed so much of our lives, but there’s a lot of silver in the linings. (I should mention that I’m also drinking less.) It is, I think, not that I care less about people or wine, but that I care about more people and more wine.

The case for cheap things is a cornerstone of late-capitalist consumer culture. However, most of the true costs of cheap products are spread among many people over vast areas–all of which suffer unfairly. Wine, for example, up to, say, $7 is, in a way, a false narrative. A bottle of wine that costs $7 (or less) can’t truly be had in 2022. Of course, you can find a wine for seven bucks in shops across the country, but most of the actual costs are hidden from most consumers. It might be a good deal for us, but somewhere down the line, as it were, it’s a bad deal for someone else–and often many others.

If everyone along the way to the production of a bottle of wine is being paid a living wage and has healthcare of some stripe–and if the environment is not taking an unhealthy hit–a bottle of wine should cost about 20 bucks*.

I realize this sounds a bit highbrow, or at least uppity, and perhaps it is, but too many of the costs of production for such radically inexpensive products are not in our calculus.All we think is that we deserve these products or just can’t afford to spend more–but we’re still paying. A 99-cent hamburger proves the same moral math. The environment takes an often uncalculated, off-the-menu hit as do many laborers along the way, including all of us.

Capitalist culture will tell you that some products are, in fact, too cheap to yield profit, but that’s by design. Some businesses say it’s their choice to sell their products at whatever prices they want. This, however, is thinking without consideration beyond profit. Such “loss leaders” fail to consider the lives of low-paid workers the world over, and such manipulations further accelerate environmental degradation and climate change. Is this true in every case? No, but we live in the Capitalocene, not the Anthropocene.

I am more interested in organic wine, biodynamic farming, or wine that is raised naturally. I want balance first, and pleasure first, and globally available local wine first, and if I can afford it, I want to pay for it because I want to support it–not merely for the bottle I take home, but for the whole process.

For many companies, the best way to sell a product is to limit the customer’s evaluation time during the purchase decision, and the easiest way to do that is to make the product cheap. The next step is to hide some of the costs, which often means hiding the human and environmental damages of the production.

So, I’ve begun to buy and drink wine that represents a good value but is also organically farmed and often biodynamically raised–and not falsely cheap. I’m trying to buy wine that is produced by growers that pay living wages to all their workers. The new pleasures I’ve found during these times include concern for the welfare, so far as I can tell, of people I will likely never meet. I’m still working it out, but I think if our only measure of success is to find the cheapest wine, and so, to line the pockets of the rich, it only serves to praise an idleness that feels cheap.

 

II

All the great wine shops in the East Bay, including Oakland Yard, Bay Grape, Ordinaire, and Minimo, have great selections and take responsibility for the wines they sell. That includes, to the extent currently possible, consideration of the wellbeing of everyone along the lines of production.

Like all the buyers in the shops mentioned above, the buyers at Paul Marcus Wines try to find wines with varietal authenticity, provide a sense of place, and are delicious. Furthermore, we try to ask the right questions of the importers in the hopes of making better purchase decisions for you. And this comes at a cost: the cost of a more equitable society.

This is not a note saying we are raising prices, but rather to say it is important to remember what we’re doing when we so often quickly or blindly “support the economy.”

—–

* This number is an approximation–a rhetorical flourish of sorts. The number would change dramatically depending on the variety in question, the location of the fruit source, and the city in which the wine is sold.

At Paul Marcus Wines, we are always excited to introduce our customers to up-and-coming winemakers, and we’re thrilled to offer an array of wines from a small, relatively new Burgundian producer from the Hautes Côtes de Beaune. David Trousselle, located near Saint Romain, grows single-vineyard chardonnay and pinot noir from the cooler areas in the hills west of the Côte de Beaune, and the quality-to-price ratio of his wines is nothing short of remarkable.

Trousselle uses traditional Burgundian techniques in the cellar. Chardonnay is pressed directly after the harvest and fermented and raised in mostly neutral barrels. Pinot noir is de-stemmed and given a short maceration prior to fermentation to increase color extraction, with minimal use of new oak. The resulting wines are fresh, supple, and full of character.

We are proud to offer four wines from this rising star of Burgundy:

2020 Bourgogne Blanc ‘La Couleuvraire’ ($29)

This chardonnay has a distinctively classic Burgundian nose with hints of Meursault and a nice mineral edge on the follow-through.

2020 Bourgogne Rouge ‘En Cre’ ($29)

A characteristic Beaune nose promises warm red-fruit flavors, and it surely delivers. The grapes for this lightly extracted bottling come from high-elevation, limestone-rich vineyards.

2020 Auxey-Duresses Rouge ($36)

This cool-climate beauty, from a tiny, recently acquired plot in Auxey-Duresses, offers lovely aromatics, taut minerality, and an elegant texture.

2019 Santenay Rouge ($36)

Boasting darker and denser middle fruit, the Santenay finishes with a slightly earthy and savory note.

Imagine a grape variety that gives you the silkiness and grace of pinot noir; the dark fruits, pepper, and floral notes of syrah; and the joyous lift and moderate alcohol of gamay. This grape shares nebbiolo’s knack for making a variety of wines–everything from easy everyday wines to important site-specific ones, not to mention singular rosés and sparkling wines. And, to make it even more palatable, it boasts an appealing quality-to-price ratio, with most coming in at under $25. Voilà: we give you blaufränkisch!

The best-known name of the grape, blaufränkisch, gives us an idea of its pedigree: From the Middle Ages onward, German-speaking peoples used variations of fränkisch (“from Franconia”) to distinguish higher-quality from run-of-the-mill varieties. Blaufränkisch is the name that’s used in Austria, which is the most important source of quality wines made from the variety. But there are lots of synonyms, depending on where it’s grown: kékfrankos in Hungary, limberger/lemberger in Germany, borgonja in Croatia, and gamé in Bulgaria, among others. (I’m not the only one to have noticed the partial resemblances to pinot noir and gamay!)


Whatever you call the grape, the wines made from it are as much fun to pair with food as they are to drink, thanks to their lively acidity, moderate alcohol, and judicious dollop of fruitiness. Start with the dishes you love to eat with pinot noir or syrah, especially savory things like mushrooms, tomatoes, sausages, and smoked meats. Then dial up the spices if you want: paprika, barbecue sauce, capsicum…. If you’re up for going Hungarian-style native, importer Eric Danch suggests offal (“bloody, minerally stuff”), culminating with kakashere pörkölt (rooster testicle stew). Back here in the Bay Area, experiment with izakaya plates: grilled and fried bites, pickled vegetables, and the like.

Here are eight examples of this variety from Paul Marcus Wines. (Continue reading for a special discount.)

2020 Pfneisl Blaufränker 1-liter [Austria]

Sisters Birgit and Katrin Pfneisl farm their family’s certified organic vineyards in eastern Austria, near the border with Hungary, and make this deliciously gulpable blaufränkisch. The wine is light, fresh, fruity, and just 12 percent alcohol. Chill it for 20 minutes to enhance all of these qualities. It’s great for barbecues, picnics, and camping–the full-liter bottle is finished with a screw cap, for easy access.

2019 Schreiner Blaufränkisch Burgenland – Rust [Austria]

Gernot and Victoria Schreiner practice certified organic farming in their hometown of Rust, on the western shores of Lake Neusiedl. This wine is from a parcel called Gemärk (limestone, sand, and sandstone). It’s aged in large, old oak casks for 14 months and is classic Burgenland blaufränkisch: inky black and blue fruits without heaviness and with a pleasing bitter hint. At 12.4 percent alcohol, it’s lively, fresh, and fun, yet with a serious, elegant side.

2017 Burg Ravensburg Blaufränkisch Sulzfeld [Germany]

Here’s a German example of blaufränkisch/lemberger. It’s perhaps a little higher-toned than the Austrian and Hungarian versions, with especially bright acidity. The grapes are farmed organically, and the wine comes in at 12.5 percent alcohol.

2017 Stumpf Pinceszet Kékfrankos Nagy-Eged [Hungary]

Father János and son Péter Stumpf dry-farm 20 hectares of vines in the Eger appellation of Hungary, halfway between Budapest and Tokaj. This wine is from 40-50-year-old vines. Nagy-Eged means “Eged Mountain,” and it’s the highest-altitude red-wine vineyard in Hungary. The wine is aged for 20 months in 500-liter acacia and Hungarian oak barrels and bottled unfined and unfiltered. The only addition is a small amount of SO2 at bottling. This is a kékfrankos that’s sophisticated and even a touch flashy, with dark fruit and noteworthy structure. It gains complexity with bottle age.

2020 Wetzer Kékfrankos [Hungary]

Peter Wetzer is a producer in the appellation of Sopron, right next to the border with Austria. His kékfrankos is a blend of several organically farmed 40-50-year-old vineyards, with loam, limestone, and mica-schist soils. Fermentation is in open vats and aging in used 500-liter Hungarian oak barrels. It’s bottled unfined and unfiltered, with a small addition of sulfur. Vivid dark fruits are etched with vibrant minerality and acidity. This is a lot of wine for the money.

2019 Moric Blaufränkisch Burgenland [Austria]

Roland Velich started Moric (MOR-itz) in 2001 with the goal of doing with blaufränkisch in Burgenland what producers have achieved with pinot noir in Burgundy, syrah in the Northern Rhône, and nebbiolo in the Langhe. (Read Alder Yarrow’s article “MORIC: The Apogee of Blaufränkisch.”) This wine is from 10-50-year-old vines growing in limestone, primary rock, and loam. Farming is uncertified organic, and fermentation is with indigenous yeasts in open vats and steel tank. Aging is in a combination of barrels ranging from 600 to 4,500 liters in size. No fining or filtration and minimal SO2 added at bottling. This is a super-classy wine that manages to be both impressive and understated at the same time.

2017 Karner Vitézföld Kékfrankos [Hungary]

Here is the wild and kinky side of kékfrankos. Gábor Karner is the godfather of natural wine in northeast Hungary (as well as a progressive metal drummer with the band Æbsence). His daughter Fanni works with him in the wine region of Matrá, between Budapest and Tokaj. Their wine is from the organically farmed single vineyard Vitézföld (“the good soldier’s land”). It sees one week of maceration and then 18 months of aging in stainless steel. Unfined, unfiltered, and no additions of any kind, including SO2 (ØØ). This is a serious natural wine: concentrated and complex, while walking the line between sauvage and fine.

2021 Kobal Blaufränkisch Pét-Nat Rosé Bajta [Slovenia]

We’ll finish–but maybe you should start–with an utterly hedonistic fizzy pink wine from Lower Styria (Štajerska) in Slovenia. Four hours of skin contact give the electric-pink color. Fermentation finishes in the bottle, resulting in a wine that’s juicy, yeasty, fruity, and exuberant–the opposite of serious!

Special Offer
Take 10 percent off any three or more blaufränkisch/kékfrankos that you buy through April 15th. The offer is mix-and-match: three different wines, three of the same thing, or anything in between. Use discount code frankish10 (no “c”) if you shop at our online store.

I was sipping an exotic wine with my favorite Vietnamese takeout last night and was surprised by the smoky, salty, “volcanic” aromatics that underlay the delicate muscat-like lychee fruit notes. Majorca, where the wine’s from, must be a volcanic plug of an island, I explained to my partner. Only that could account for the savory base I was tasting.

I’m regularly wrong, so I was already doubting myself even before I read that the Balearic Islands, of which Majorca is the biggest, are not of volcanic origin. Being naturally flexible, I was able to quickly pivot to my next explanation: The wine was reductive.

“Reduction” is the rare wine-geek term that’s not (mostly) subjective. At its simplest, it’s the technique of strictly limiting oxygen during a stage of fermentation. Certain compounds given off by the yeast cells are prevented from binding with good-old reactive oxygen molecules, and they stay trapped in the soon-to-be wine. Wines that feature reduction, or are reduced, exhibit a range of savory, salty, smoky, gunflint, matchstick, or even full-on sulfurous aromas. This can be good or bad, a lot or a little. In my wine last night, I enjoyed the added complexity; the fruit shone through unscathed, but there was more than fruit to think about.

Stéphane Tissot, star of the Jura

Preventing oxidation in wine seems like a good thing, and winemakers can tell themselves they’re not adding flavors through the technique–no, they’re just protecting the wine from premature aging. But, of course, they’re doing both. Some are very good at it (see Walter Scott’s lineup of Oregon chardonnay), and some push it pretty far (like Tissot in the Jura).

Many wine professionals are fans of reductive wines–Master Sommelier Rajat Parr, for one, praises Tissot highly for it in The Sommelier’s Atlas of Taste. Fruity flavors are wine’s easiest achievement. Stony, more mineral flavors are much harder to capture. And while it would be unfair, too broad, perhaps even, gasp, reductive to say that too many wines present so much sweet fruit that they might benefit from the addition of a savory element, it might also be, occasionally, a little true.

So, if you find yourself wanting more than just fruit flavors in your wine, or want to keep abreast of trends, or simply want to know what Raj Parr is talking about, stop by the shop and ask us about reduction.

The staff at Paul Marcus Wines has a wide range of tastes and tendencies–some more traditional, some more eclectic. But if there’s a common PMW thread that binds it all together, it’s probably the concept of balance. In short, we look for wines in which all of the components–might they be fruit and earth, herbs and spice, tannins, acidity, and minerality–work together in harmony, where none of the individual elements dominate the tasting experience.

That brings me to the 2018 Oddero Langhe Nebbiolo, a gem of a bottle that will surprise and delight wine drinkers of all stripes. This wine simply oozes charm and charisma–it’s wonderfully bright and accessible, yet with a depth and complexity that belies its relatively modest ($33) price tag. There’s an abundance of fresh red fruit, but it’s augmented by a subtly dazzling array of earthy, herbaceous, floral, and spicy notes.

The legendary Oddero has been bottling for nearly 150 years

The grapes for this knockout come from the San Biagio vineyards in Barolo’s prized La Morra village–a spot known to accentuate nebbiolo’s more aromatic, delicate qualities. It’s aged in very large oak barrels for up to 18 months, allowing the wine to retain its purity and sparkle while adding a bit of polish to the alluring tannins.

The end result is graceful and refined, but not at all shy. What I mean to say is: Go get yourself some Casoncelli Bergamaschi (meat-stuffed pasta with butter and sage) from neighborhood favorite Belotti Ristorante and crack a bottle of this magnetic Oddero nebbiolo. You can thank me later.