2007 Los Maquis Calcu Colchagua Valley

Chile, reportedly, has one of the most ideal climates and situations for great winemaking in the world. And land is cheap, so everybody and their uncle is making wine. A lot of the wine is great, and very inexpensive to purchase. But I've noticed that, on more than one occasion, I've smelled some...unfortunate....aromas wafting from a glass of Chilean wine. For example, the sauvignon blanc that smelled like a farm shed (tractor oil, livestock, and rotting vegetation). This is not to say that all Chilean wines smell like yuck, but...it's an observation.

The wine I'm tasting today, a blend of cabernet sauvignon, carmenere, cabernet franc, and petit verdot, has a very appealing dark garnet color in the glass. A little cloudy, which is unusual in these days when most wines are expected to be clear and without sediment, but doesn't mean anything is wrong with the wine.

I admit my nose to the glass and...grape popsicle and POOP. Okay, so professional winetasters don't say poop. They say "barnyard" or "manure." Actually in this case, barnyard might be quite appropriate, as not only does the wine smell like ordure, but there's also a hearty whiff of decaying vegetation. This is not a happy-smelling wine.  So, let's try it in the mouth (if I must).....

Better. Whew. Good balance between the bracing acidity and the moderate but refined tannins. It's medium in body, a little "hot" - meaning that the alcohol is a little high and isn't quite in balance with the other elements in the wine - and a bit lacking in complexity and concentration. There is a hint of the aroma that carries over to the palate, but it comes across more as just overripe black cherry, rather than actual rot.

So, if you can get past the poop on the nose (ew), it's an okay wine. But...why would you want to drink something that smells like a barnyard? I give it an 80.

2007 Hedges CMS White Columbia Valley

The CMS in this wine's name refers to the three white grapes in the blend: Chardonnay, Marsanne, and Sauvignon Blanc. True to the origins of these grapes, the wine appears to be made in the old world, French style - without aging in oak barrels - as many new world Chardonnays (and some Marsannes) are. This explains the very faint aromas displayed by this wine. I get a bit of green wood or hay, maybe a little green apple. Chardonnay is known for lacking strong aroma (one of the reasons oak is so often used); not true of the other two, which I thought might indicate that Chardonnay is the dominant grape in the blend (it's not - the wine is 64% Sauvignon Blanc).

I've heard good things about earlier vintages of this wine, but I'm not terribly impressed by this one. In addition to the wimpy nose, it's not a wine that grabs hold of the palette, either. It has a noticeable lack of acidity, which, when paired with the relatively high levels of residual sugar and alcohol, leave you with a wine of substantial body but not much structure to support it. I've heard Marsanne referred to as the Falstaff of white grapes. The analogy certainly holds true in this case: plenty of heft, but lacking the fortitude to follow through.

2007 was a particularly hot summer in Washington state, I believe, which goes quite a way towards explaining the high sugar and alcohol, and the low acidity, as warm temperatures tend to increase sugar levels, while acid levels decline. It does carry some nice, juicy fruit on the palette, though the green apple is opposed by a kind of bitter grapefruit rind that isn't entirely appealing.

The wine isn't faulted, but there's not much there there, really. I give it an 80. Meh.

2006 Gaia Agiorgitiko Péloponnèse Nótios

The first time I ever tasted a Greek wine could easily have been my last. It was sour and doggy and so astringent I felt like someone had attached a vacuum hose to my mouth and sucked out all the moisture. But, being either stubborn or foolish (it's so hard to tell sometimes), a few months ago I tried again with a Mercouri Pisatis Folói (a white wine made from the roditis grape) from the Péloponnèse region - delicious. The Greeks had redeemed themselves oenologically in my eyes (or, rather, my mouth).

So tonight I'm tasting a 2006 Gaia Agiorgitiko Péloponnèse Nótios. (Agiorgitiko is a common red grape grown in Greece, named in reference to St. George, I believe.) The nose of the Gaia is uncharacteristic for an agiorgitiko; instead of the classic plum and spice, I get an earthy, mushroomy aroma, reminiscent of a damp forest floor, and not much fruit at all - perhaps a hint of fresh cherry.

Also unusual for an agiorgitiko is the relatively high level of acid in this wine. It's a heat-resistant grape that thrives in higher tempratures than many grapes can stand, sometimes at the expense of the resultant wine's structure. The acid seems in proportion to the alcohol, making me think the wine may have been acidified during vinification. Another indication of this is that the acid does not seem fully integrated into the wine - sort of like how a sheer bandage doesn't really look like skin. There is a slight, pleasant astringency, but overall it's a simple, light-medium body wine with plenty of structure but a lack of fruit. In fact the flavor is fairly weak overall, with a hint of something stinky - almost garlicky - lingering in the backrgound.

It's not a horrible wine, but it's not noteworthy, either. I'll have a hard time recalling this one from the depths of my taste memory if I spot it in a store sometime, and I don't expect it will improve or evolve much with age. Don't go out of your way, but if you happen to have some, drink it with something hearty like a beef stew or cheese fondue to give it a little more heft. I'd give it an 80.