Chloe, Helena and me: California split wins big at Café Chloe when I order the dinner special and pour Château Montelena 2005

(MUSIC CREDIT: DJ SHADOW)

This is the first video upload I've ever done on my blog. A fantastic meal matched by an astounding wine were the factors that led me to create it. But it's not a video on the wine or the restaurant per se. Rather, it's a video inspired by them -- these are the scenes that unfolded around me while drinking California's best wine at what must be Southern California's best sidewalk cafe. It's less a gastronomic documentary than it is an interpretation of feeling; less food and wine than twilight mystery developing into the rich, delicious night. It's the Ch Petrogasm of wine video podcasting, if you will.

(By the way, the evocative soundtrack is by California's DJ Shadow, who hails from Davis -- especially suitable since it is the centre of California wine knowledge.)

This comes at a momentous point in time: After I (a) dined at the same restaurant for three consecutive days and (b) finally tasted an American wine that actually made me think seriously about the meaning of the Judgment of Paris.

I can safely say that neither of these things has happened to me before. Until now, I was more of an accidental tourist, never planning to repeatedly return to the same venue while on vacation abroad -- never finding a restaurant with such savvy, yet retaining a keen sense of self (Café Chloe, in San Diego's Gaslamp District, was originally tapped by the inordinately useful Brooklynguy). And also until now, I thought I was the judge on whether I bought New World or Old World wine. Tasting this Napa Valley wine made me think that maybe California was holding all the cards.

So can California cash in on me and make me a repeat player at their table? For a bottle of what I tasted, it's $44.50 in Quebec, and $44.95 in Ontario. In its home state, you'd pay a sommelier some 30-something dollars for a half bottle, which would roughly make the retail price up to $10 cheaper south of the border.

At either pricepoint, this wine is worth it. the wine I am talking about is the Château Montelena Chardonnay Napa Valley 2005. It doesn't just try to be Chablis, it does one better with its own beguiling expressiveness.

But the smart sommelier service I received and the great, truly French approach that Café Chloe demonstrates played their part too, making this a dinner of synergy and total amusement.

Château Montelena Chardonnay Napa Valley 2005

Eyes: As my video suggests, I was taking notes on the Café Chloe sidewalk terrace after dark. The gleaming lights of the San Diego Padres at Petco Park were a feeble twinkle behind Farkas Store Fixtures. No notes on the visuals, sorry.

Nose: Toasty nose. Yeast and brioche with green-tinted fruit.

Mouth: Best of both Worlds? This has a buttery finish on a seriously minerally and citrus-exposed version of Chardonnay. So buttery it seems creamy and sort of oxidized at first (malolactic fermentation?) but it is terrific and worth paying attention to. Strict lines frame a wine with deep, ponderous expression but it's quixotically sharply bracing, with great slaking refreshment. Like the California sea air. Refreshing, but more contemplative than a typical Chablis. And the nice layer of wood or that slight malo hint I get. Dry, lingering, with a balance that makes the the dismount as wonderful as the attack.

Stomach: Café Chloe served me a great dinner plate with loads of local produce, tastefully done and beautifully presented. With the fresh Pacific salmon I had (my first), I was enchanted. Though if I have to honestly say whether tasted more terroir in the fish than in my Chardonnay, I'd single out the drink. While the fish was prepared to perfection, I was let down by (perhaps) overblown promises of Pacific Coast catches, especially the salmon, in this case.

I'd say that salmon's not the ideal match for a clean-lined Chard -- herbed roasted chicken might be the best pairing -- but it didn't matter in the least. The basic building blocks I was given were there. West Coast brilliance!

And my last post said I had to force things in California?

Calistoga, Napa Valley, California, U.S.A. 13.5%.

On a holiday trip in America, breaking some bread with the inventor of White Zinfandel

In the period between American Thanksgiving and American Christmas (the secular observance falling on December 25), life can turn into one big cranberry if you let it.

This directly applies to the flavour profile of the wines you may encounter, especially if you go along with the idea that White Zinfandel is the made-to-order match for Butterballs with all the fixings, festive holiday luncheons and the heaps of leftovers that emerge as turkey club sandwiches.

White Zinfandel is not something that I had ever knowingly tasted. If I had ever stopped to give this style of wine any thought, I'm sure I would have assumed that I would continue avoiding it, come gleaming 20-lb stuffed turkey or high water.

But quite recently, during a trip to New York City, I discovered there was a chink in my armor. Perhaps this was hubris, or even worse, holiday hubris, which often comes wrapped in coloured cellophane with a tacky wine accessory attached.

AN INAUSPICIOUS END TO DELICIOUS START

BrooklynGuy Neil, whom I met up with while I was visiting New York, lead me from Pineau d'Aunis blend to Pinot Noir bubbly, steering me entirely clear of any Zinfandel of any kind, even though Thanksgiving had just passed.

We drank Muscadet and we drank Touraine. And even in leaving behind the Loire Valley -- practically a polar winter to any Zinfandel grape -- I only strayed as far as the Mâcon.

And when my bottle of Mâcon-Villages spilled onto the sidewalk in Hell's Kitchen (yes, it was me who was the good Samaritan seen picking up glass shards at the corner of Eighth Avenue and 49th Street at noon on Saturday, December 1) I merely crossed the street and got another one almost identical to the first.

One day, change was afoot. I was feeling like something more spicy for a trip to the NoHo Star so I shopped for a lusty red wine. But I blindly passed by the Ravenswoods and Clines and picked up an Alfrocheiro from Portugal (which was a really exciting find -- my first 100% varietal from Portugal -- and it drank beautifully, almost like a light and spicy Rhône).

It would seem there was not a bottle of Zinfandel in the world that would reach this Canadian in New York during the festive season. Or was there one, silently sitting there waiting for me?

Glasses clinked and November became December. My departing train came too suddenly -- I was whisked up to Albany, where Amtrak's 15-minute layover greeted me and my hastily purchased turkey chimichanga with a small and curious bottle of Sutter Home Family Vineyeards White Zinfandel 2005 (the only wine sold in the entire train station -- thankfully with a screw top, the most teensy-tiny one I've ever seen). My train home about to pull out of the station so I wasn't about to split hairs. But I rolled my eyes and grabbed a stout as a back-up (the stout, unlike the wine, was not a screw top, and it went straight into the garbage).

Is this how it would all go down? A White Zinfandel neophyte chugging along Lake Champlain with a $2 bottle of blush to declare at the Canadian border? (For the record, Quebec only imports three brands of White Zinfandel: Gallo, Baron Herzog, and Beringer's sparkling version; Ontarians have a full dozen of White Zin options, including the one I had before me here, but their increased exposure to this blush is because the Ontario wine industry produces some even more ersatz stuff of their own -- namely White Zinfandel-Vidal -- to up the tally.)

Surely such an amazingly eye-opening trip to the Big Apple filled with great food and wine would not be concluded like this?

Well actually, it was the only time during my visit when I had nothing better to do than write tasting notes, so yes, it would be the culmination of my trip.

Eyes: This is actually a blush wine, and not just any old rosé, so it's a paler shade of pink.

Nose: Cidery, both distinct wafts of cider vinegar and aged fruit. How quaint. I'm still amazed at this point that I bought this bottle.

Mouth: Mulled wine on the palate -- practically juice. At first I felt like dumping it, but the line for the train toilet was too long to make it worthwhile. Soon, I starting coming around to it. Totally cranberry profile -- it tastes like Thanksgiving right out of one of those cranberry jelly tins. Not bad tannic presence, who knew a blush (though I think it's got more than a hint of pink) could be so grippy and drying, which mercifully complemented the sweet side of this wine's attack.

Stomach: The Adobe turkey chimichanga I got from Whole Foods was packed with shredded turkey, kernels of corn and spices. I actually felt like I was having a movable Thanksgiving feast, post-dated one week.

So overall, not a bad wine to crack open on the Amtrak Adirondack at 10:30 am (let me qualify that slightly by saying the café car wasn't selling anything with alcohol until noon that day).

Next stop Schenectady, where I picked up a wireless signal long enough to gather the following information on White Zinfandel, U.S. patent #2934857396684759760157495731110490928658.

(Like the wireless bandwidth, the following was stolen from an unacknowledged source.)

In the 1970s Sutter Home Winery was a producer of premium Zinfandel in the Napa Valley. One technique they utilized to increase concentration in their wines was to bleed off some of the grape juice prior to fermentation to increase the impact of compounds in the skins on the remaining wine. The excess juice was separately fermented into a dry, almost white wine that Sutter Home's Bob Trinchero called "White Zinfandel." This wine became the classic example of the varietal style. An "invention" that is Delicate blush pink in color, with sweet aromas of strawberries and watermelon. It is fresh and lively with a crisp finish. Enjoy well chilled.

Varietal Information

Produced from red Zinfandel grapes grown in the upper Sacramento and northern San Joaquin valleys. Grapes for this bottling were harvested early in the growing season (early to mid-August) at low sugars (18-19 degrees Brix) and relatively high acids to maximize the freshness typical of this wine.

Nutritional Information

5oz serving size, 5 servings per 750ml container:
Calories | Carbohydrates | Fat | Protein
108.000 | 008.300 grams | nil | <1 gram

Happy Accident (Detailed information)

In 1975, Sutter Home's White Zinfandel experienced a "stuck fermentation", a problem that occurs when the yeast dies out before consuming all of the sugar.[3] This problem juice was set aside. Some weeks later the winemaker tasted it, and preferred this accidental result, which was a sweet pink wine. This is the style that became popular and today is known as White Zinfandel. Sutter Home realized they could sell far more White Zinfandel than anything they had produced to date, and gradually became a successful producer of inexpensive wines. The demand for White Zinfandel resulted in extended commercial viability of old vine Zinfandel vineyards, which saved them from being ripped out.[4] When the fine wine boom started in the 1980s, demand for red Zinfandel picked up considerably and these vineyards became prized for the low yields from century-old vines.

Rather than use the leftover juice from premium Zinfandel production, Sutter Home (and most producers today) grow grapes specifically for use in White Zinfandel in places like the Central Valley of California. Production costs are substantially lower and fruit quality is not as important to the final taste as it would be in a dry table wine.

In the 1990s the Trinchero family, owners of Sutter Home, began production of a new brand of fine wines, M. Trinchero.

Napa, California, U.S.A. 9.5%.

Cab Franc table talk: Château Gaillard Vieilles Vignes 2000, Charles Joguet Clos du Chêne Vert 2002, Thierry Germain La Marginale 2003, Steltzner 2004

It was a huge pleasure to partake is this substantial (and revealing) tasting of some fine Cabernet Franc wines.

By teaming up with fellow blogger Joe, I was able to stage a worthwhile look at this varietal in two New World and three Old World examples: from Napa Valley's Stags Leap District, from Niagara Peninsula's Glenlake Vineyard and three from Loire appellations, including Thierry Germain's Domaine des Roches Neuves cuvée La Marginale, which sadly is no longer available for sale in Quebec.

Thanks to Joe for extracting that bottle from his cellar. He also brought the Napa Cab produced by Steltzner Vineyards. I provided the Chinon and Niagara wines, plus a unique Loire red blend from Vincent Girault at Château Gaillard in Mesland, just to get our tasting hats on. Here's how I saw it all go down.

Château Gaillard Vieilles Vignes Touraine-Mesland 2000

This wine was not tasted blind. It was, as I mentioned, our warm-up wine. From the 2000 vintage, this has got to be the cheapest oldest wine you can buy at the SAQ. Adding to the intrigue was a percentage Gamay that the winemaker claimed to blend into this seven-year-old version of Cabernet Franc. How would this taste? A lot like Malbec actually, and that's of course because Côt was the third blending grape involved, perhaps the primary one. The Gamay provided a squelch of fruity tartness, the Cabernet seemed to add some rich cocoa notes. But it mostly seemed to be an expression most characteristic of Malbec or Gamay than Cabernet. (Several nights later this wine is still hanging on nicely with some zip). For $19, this bottle from 2000 is a rather odd delivery of an otherwise friendly and fun quaffer.

Château Gaillard: Certified organic and biodynamic. Vincent Girault, Mesland, Loir et Cher, France. 12%.

Charles Joguet Clos du Chêne Vert Chinon 2002

To me this was tell-tale Chinon, and the easiest to separate from the rest of the wines. It was decanted and definitely needs it. Even after a half-hour, it was still settling in. On the nose I first got cassis and cream. It seemed one-note on the palate, but that was still changing in the glass. On the palate it became less strict, offering luscious notes of tomato and green pepper. It is a typically vegetal wine with strong earthy/mineral elements so it's not surprising it goes so well with food. When I served beef tenderloin, seasoned potatoes wedges and garlic-steamed broccoli (which, perhaps unfortunately, only occurred after the wines were revealed), this Cabernet really showed its stuff. It ushered in the meal like none of the others, a perfect partner for steak and frites or for simmered beef and fresh vegetables. (I think that only food with really spicy or sweet elements would prevent this wine from shining as bright -- this wine definitely has a style shared with the ultimate dining wines.)

Clos du Chêne Vert: Charles Joguet, Sazilly, France. 12.5%.

Thierry Germain Domaine des Roches Neuves La Marginale Saumur Champigny 2003

This was the first wine we decanted and the first wine I tasted blind. By the time I stopped taking notes it was still baffling me, especially as to its true potential. This wine was so solid with so much depth that I felt the best reading on what this wine really amounts to could only come years down the road. It had a sharp nose rendering a complex bouquet. On the palate it was equally complex and powerful. The finish delivers admirably huge tannins -- definitely an aspect worth revisiting in the future. If it was a bit tight in the early stages, a palpable acidity was shown so I see no reason why it wouldn't last a decade or more. The fruit reminded me of Saumur fruit and terroir, though with many times the body and many times the lift. Ultimately, this convinced me that it was the other French wine, though clearly more New World-ish than the Chinon. A revelation -- but it manhandled my meal a bit. If only I could save my dinner and then reheat it with this wine ten years from now.

La Marginale: Thierry Germain, Varrains, France. 13%.

Steltzner Vineyards Stags Leap District Napa Valley 2004

Here is where I lost my way. The nose of this wine presented grenadine and spices and a somewhat understated aroma of leather. This was soft and alluring and was channeling the French wines I drink almost every night. On the palate, it was sweetish and offered less intrigue than the nose. It was more heavily oaked and yet much lighter than the Marginale -- which is a far from ideal combination. Especially with food, it ends up generating vanilla and so it comes off cloying. You might sense that it has peaked and is already receding. So my guess was that this was the 2000 Niagara wine rather than the Napa three-year-old. I was wrong. Surprise! I really could not tell at all that this was an over-alcoholized American wine of 15%. Credit to Steltzner, though as the night went on and I revisited it after dessert the alcohol was suddenly unmasked. The Napa zap! But too late -- I was fooled. To me this was the most demure and attractive nose of the bunch but it took me spiraling downhill from there. If I had it again, I wouldn't decant.

Steltzner: Napa, California, U.S.A. 15%.

Hillebrand Estates Glenlake Vineyards Showcase Niagara Peninsula 2000

Alcoholized and highly evolved in the glass, despite not decanting this bottle. This wine is oxidized and was rebottled for return.

This post mirrors what Joe already published over on Joe's Wine. But unlike Joe, I am not including my notes for the Niagara bottle (and I instead mentioned the Gaillard, even though it was not tasted blind). I'm taking the Niagara wine back. This is my decision. Joe wrote me that he "didn't find it to be something that needs returning," but he understood my feelings. The fact is I had tasted the Niagara wine earlier this year and wrote glowing notes on it here. But it showed up at our tasting showing seriously aged fruit and oxidation and this was merely a matter of weeks after purchase from the winery. How disappointing.

MY LESSONS LEARNED

But I think my real disappointment was that during our tasting's blind phase, I didn't guess correctly. I observed yet I let a favourable memory of the Niagara bottle and a distaste of American wine dictate my guesses. This was because I mistook the strength of oxidizing elements on the nose for the presence of high levels of alcohol. I was shocked to see this actually revealed as Niagara. It made prefect sense to the neutral bystander, and in hindsight. This wine was much older, and had my observations been interpreted correctly, I was there. But I was swayed despite -- perhaps paradoxically because of -- the fact that we were doing them blind.

Lesson 1: Blind tastings are best performed on bottles that you have not tasted before or you'll be tempted to outsmart your own blind observations with memory and personal response, which is quite disappointing because it defeats the whole purpose.

Or rather, in blind testings, it's best to forget the past. I think my tasting partner Joe had a firm handle on this aspect. He had tasted the Steltzner before. Experience is knowledge but it's synthesized knowledge -- be advised to leave out individual bottles experiences!

"No need to be disappointed," said Joe in the postmortem. "It shows that the blind worked, and you correctly separated the old world from the new." [It's true I did ID this and the other French wines correctly].

"The Canuck wine was a bit tired -- Cab Franc, probably from younger vines than all of the others, is not going to keep forever... note that the bottle to bottle variability probably increases over time. Your previous experience was eight months ago at the end of a wine's life -- perhaps not that much of a surprise they were quite different?" surmised Joe.

OTHER LESSON LEARNED

Lesson 2: Is it hard to keep track of wine consumption at a blind tasting while it is happening! I don't think I'll ever figure out a way to better keep track when there's so much set before me. Perhaps proper tasting glasses would help?

Lesson 3: Blind tastings with "table talk" can sway evaluation as much as "drinking the label" does in non-blind tastings. Joe and I had some table talk, but not much. We didn't discuss conclusions until the end. And besides, what little table talk there was had almost no effect since the wines were positioned blind as well as tasted blind. This prevented a shared order of wines between to the two of us so table talk comments could not be attributed to a particular wine and therefore sway tasting opinions.

Lesson 4: I did not assess colour in the tasting because I thought it would too easily reveal the wine, given the broad four-year gap in cuvée vintages. The lighting was also poor so I let Joe turn up the house lights while I put the final touches on dinner (see Joe's notes for proper scoring). But the fact is that the wines' colour didn't reveal much at all, no matter how hard I tried to read them.

WBW #28 Festive Sparklers: Monmousseau Cuvée J.M. Mousseux 2002 and Mumm Cuvée Brut Prestige NV

For this month's tasting theme, Brenda from Culinary Fool asked for entries on sparkling wine, i.e. NOT Champagne, since wines bearing the official Champagne appellation was tackled earlier this fall.

She's no fool. In fact, Culinary Fool is replete with great information pertaining to sparkling wine, and Brenda's WBW theme is backed up with a five-part debriefing that's instructive and well-organized. So by all means, spend some time with the many useful directions the links above will take you.

Brenda also asked for specific details on the sparklers that participants open, including a practical categorization she's set up for us called Party Sparkler, Special Sparkler or Dud. Since my participation stemmed from an actual, fairly festive get-together I had on the weekend, hitting the Special category was the aim. To make sure they were Special, my guests and I went with known quantities. We got bottles we knew were worthy of the occasion and they did not disappoint. (They also could fit into another WBW category called "Mmmmm... those yummy cuvées have lots of M's" but I digress...)

The sparkling wines we had were: Monmousseau Cuvée J.M. Touraine Mousseux 2002 and Mumm Cuvée Napa Brut Prestige NV (NV stands for non-vintage though "Napa Valley" would be applicable here). The repetitious M's (I count seven) were incidental, but these bottles sure were yummmmmmmy. Okay, enough word play.

First up was the 2002 J.M. Monmousseau. Not only it is a reliable brand, its affordable price makes it crossover categories from Special to Party. It was packed with fruit and refreshment. One guest gravitated to it because it was so cooling and refreshing. It was great with salmon and spinach mousse.

A Chenin Blanc sparkling wine from Touraine in the Loire Valley in France.

It was followed by the non-vintage Mumm, which is a Champagne House, but here operating out of California's Napa Valley, far far away from Champagne. It was quite different from the first bottle, thought they both were made using the traditional method. From the moment we poured out the Mumm, we noticed the light salmon colour. And it tasted creamier, yeastier, and generally less fruit-driven but thoroughly delicious.

A Pinots-Chardonnay blend sparkling wine from the Napa Valley in California. PHOTOS: CATHY CHAMPAGNE

Obviously grape composition set these sparklers apart and gave them quite different profiles. The Chenin Blanc was dry and citrusy, the Pinot Noir-Pinot Meunier-Chardonnay was rich and nutty. I've never done a blind tasting on sparkling wine before, but I am sure anyone could distinguish these two blind.

Montrichard, Loir & Cher, France. 12%. Rutherford, California, U.S.A. 12.5%.