| 02 March 2010
It took the French some 200 years of trial and error to discover which grape varieties did best in which regional soils and macroclimates. This painstaking exercise in pragmatism was given regulatory status as the appellation system, AOC. In 2005, a mere 17 years after the amendment of Ontario’s Wine Content Act prohibiting labrusca varieties from table wine, the VQA announced that the Niagara Peninsula had been divided into two major regional appellations: Niagara-on-the-Lake and Niagara Escarpment. These were further divided into 10 sub-appellations to reflect the local climate and soil structures.
At a time when the consumer is still confused as to the meaning of VQA — given the amount of Cellared in Canada off-shore blends that proliferate on LCBO shelves — it may seem premature. But I believe it’s the right thing to do to start the research. According to J. L. Groulx, the winemaker at Stratus (who hails from the Loire Valley), the task of defining terroirs is a lengthy business. "I don't think we'll be finished in 200 years anyway," he says. Since the active life of the average winemaker is 35 vintages, it’s going to take six generations of vintners before we really know what’s going on in the vineyards of Niagara. If you don’t plan on living that long, you can get a foretaste of what these sub-apps mean by comparing the Rieslings of Short Hills Bench on the Escarpment with those of Four Mile Creek on the Niagara plain. Riesling is the best variety to use as a control grape since its flavours, as a single unblended variety, are dependent on what happens in the vineyard rather than how it is treated in the cellar. Usually, Riesling is made in stainless steel so there is no wood influence.
| 02 February 2010
Wine is a difficult and finicky houseguest. We’re lucky that it doesn’t have its own voice, or the bottle would spend most of the time complaining and we would have to send it for professional counselling. It would always be going on about something or other. Wine gets “bottle shock” when first introduced to the container in which it will spend its life, rather like an unsuccessful first date that turns into a lock-down arranged marriage. Wine doesn’t like to travel and has to rest several weeks on arrival at its destination before it gets back its mojo (balance). It has no desire to go to Florida for the winter; it doesn’t like fluctuations of temperature or being jostled by vibrations from machines (clothes dryers, compressors, dishwashers, elevators, trains, subways or passing traffic, etc.). It abhors bright light and heat and does not like the smell of paint, solvents, detergents or household refuse (strong odours can, over time, seep through the cork and affect the flavour of the wine). Given its finicky disposition, wine, if truth be told, probably suffers from agoraphobia: if those bottles in your basement had their way they would rather be slumbering in the dark, damp cellar where they were born and not have to travel at all. But life is hard, and wines, like pets, are there for our enjoyment. And, like pets, wine responds best to kindly treatment rather than benign neglect or abuse.
My heart bleeds when I see where some people store their wines. I have been in kitchens that have wine racks installed over refrigerators, with bottles slowly cooking from the rising heat and being massaged into old age by the vibrations of the compressor. I have seen wines stored in terra cotta tubular tiles set into stone walls beside a fireplace in the den. I have seen wines stored in unheated attics that bake in summer and freeze in winter — rather like Madeira lodges, which encourage the oxidization of their wines this way. And I have to confess that my own parents used to keep the single ceremonial bottle of Manischewitz in the linen closet, at a temperature above the thermostat setting in the living room. So be kind to your wine. It will reward you for your concern.