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Wine Musings
Jim Fish
shares some of his thoughts on the wines produced at Anasazai Fields
Winery.
Our wines
are quite unique. It is
safe to say that there is not a commercial winery in the world making
wines even close to our wines. Whole-fruit fermented, very dry, very
intense, oak-aged (for up to 11 years and counting) fruit wines. And
blends of these fruit wines and New Mexico grape wines. Unheard of. No
category for them in the competitions. Unique.
Blanco
Seco, Rojo Seco and Obscuro Seco (our three grape-based blends) are
easy drinking, every day type of dry table wines with some attitude
transmitted via the pure fruit wines: 2000 New Mexico Apricot, 2002
Placitas Wild Cherry and 2004 New Mexico Blackberry, respectively. The
pure fruit wines, the previously mentioned three and all of the
rest, definitely have attitude. They beg for careful pairing with
food and the proper state of mind. They take awhile to get to know.
They can overwhelm with complexity. They may not be for every day. They
are a sometimes-kind-of wine.
SOMETIMES*
Sometimes
you want something out of the ordinary
Something
unfamiliar and somewhat out of bounds
Something
to grab your senses
To
drag them out on to the dance floor
To
dance to a rhythm exotic and out of control
Something
to leave you tingling
And
talking to yourself
*
From A
SENSE OF PLAY, the latest book of poems by
the winemaker.
(The following details may apply
to a vintage of this wine other than the one currently available.)
Midnight
New Mexico dry big berry table wine. Deep and dark side of red berry
table wine. Whole fruit fermentation of fresh and ripe New Mexico wild
cherries, blackberries and raspberries. Fermented together for over
three months over the late summer and early fall of 2002. Take a sip of
this wine, cool but definitely not cold, swish it around in the mouth
and then swallow it slowly with lots of air. Get ready for an explosion
of aromas and flavors of fresh and ripe New Mexico berries. With very
little sugar that was not converted to the essential ingredient of
wine.
We only sell Midnight at the winery. Sometimes we take it to festivals
and pour it in the Graduate Program.
1998 Apricot Wine
I wandered down into the library cellar earlier and came across a
partial case of Lot 98-10, our apricot wine made from select Placitas
apricots over the
summer of 1998. The apricot wine that we are currently serving is Lot
00-01, from the summer of 2000. Also select Placitas apricots. I
wondered how the 98 was doing. Have not tasted one in months, maybe a
year. I decided to see where the 2000 might be going.
What is left of the 98 has been in our library cellar, stored upside
down, since we released the 2000, at least two years ago. The neck of
the bottle I pulled up was about one third full of sediment. I sat the
bottle upright for a few minutes to let the bigger chunks of sediment
drift to the bottom. Only took a few minutes for the clarity to be
acceptable to the vintner. I poured a small amount in a glass. Clarity
quite acceptable. We called this particular wine, Placitas Gold New
Mexico Apricot Wine. If you still have any of this wine in your cellar,
I say open a bottle when you are in the mood for a treat. The burst of
wild flowers starts with the nose, immediately, and stays with you all
the way to the finish. This wine would go quite well with thin slices
of sushi-grade tuna and slivers of toasted almonds.
I think the 2000 is not going to the same place as the 98. Same general
blend of select Placitas apricots, but a different summer with
different weather. The wine has terriour. It captures temporal aspects
of the landscape. I like where I think the 2000 is going. Slightly less
in the nose and slightly more in the flavors. I also think that the
2000 is going to take three or four years to get to the same level as
the 98 now. Finally, I expect the 98 to be gone before I have a chance
to decide if the 2000 will ever catch the 98.
2002 PLACITAS PLUM (Sold out) (Anticipate soon a new vintage with similar characteristics)
Over a dozen varieties of plums from the historic
village of Placitas
A pure
New Mexican wine. Six years on oak. A beautiful oakey smell. Pure plum,
whole-fruit fermented
– pits, skins and a few stems.
What
you find in the glass is unlike anything you have ever had. It is
not a whiskey. It is not a port. It is a wine. It is a plum wine. Pure
plum. Very dry. Mature. Unlike any plum wine you have ever had.
A dry plum wine with lots of oak. Not one of those sweet plum
wines. Not even close.
The
wine complements especially well curries and rich Italian dishes. It
loves Mediterranean spices.
Serve
cool, but not chilled. It warms up and opens up nicely in the glass.
Some may prefer to decant the wine to soften the finish a bit. Try
swirling a quarter glass of this wine rather vigorously for a minute
or two, pausing every 15 to 20 seconds to check out the changing
nose. Now take a sip. Repeat until the glass is empty.
We are
doing whole-fruit fermentation. Whole-fruit fermentation
gives not only this wine, but all of our wines, a distinct character. A
distinct complexity. Lots going on. Very clear that the pits and
the skins made some contributions.
Back
to the plum wine. It is a wine. A very unusual wine.
Blanco Seco
Another
grape wine with a twist.
As
a “hint of cherry” applies to a
Syrah, a “hint of apricot” applies to a Chardonnay.
I
call our Blanco
Seco: the red-wine-drinker’s white wine. As I said in the write
up for Rojo Seco (see also): I love big red grape wines – the
bigger the better. I almost never drink a white wine. I find that
most well-made white wines try to sneak by you. Our Blanco Seco does
not try to sneak by you. We have made two lots: one with a 2003 New
Mexico Chardonnay and one with a 2004. With both we blended our 1997
New Mexico Apricot. Five percent apricot in the first lot and 15%
apricot in the second lot. The 1997 Apricot (of which we still have
several hundred gallons) is extremely intense. Think about dried
apricot with no sugar saturated in dry sherry. The acid is powerful.
The fruit is powerful. I marinate salmon in it. I serve the
grilled salmon with the Blanco Seco. (I may sneak a few sips of the
1997 Apricot while I am grilling the salmon.)
A
fringe benefit of
the Apricot wine is the fact that it serves to stabilize the
Chardonnay to the point that the addition of sulfites before bottling
is not necessary. Because of the slow, sugar-starved fermentation of
the whole fruit, the wine is loaded with the complex organic acids
found in the pits and skins. These acids, like those found in red
wines fermented on the skins for a significant amount of time, are
natural antioxidants and, hence, natural preservatives. Open a
bottle of Blanco Seco and enjoy it over a few days. No need for
sulfites. The apricot wine stabilizes the Chardonnay better than
sulfites and it does not abandon the wine on opening. Those acids
are still around several days later. They are just softer, more
complex, more interesting. A serious Chardonnay drinker probably
would not approve, but a lot of red-wine drinkers have become quite
avid fans of our Blanco Seco.
Grape wine with a twist.
The
first batch of Rojo Seco we
produced was in 2003. I love big red grape wines – the bigger the
better. Deep aroma. Complex. Dry. Deep finish. I have a hard
time finding a red wine that is big enough. Almost all of the red
wines readily available have been intentionally toned down to a level
for a broader appeal or to meet the standard expected by wine judges
and wine critics. Anything in the wine lurking in the shadows is
suspect. What is that? Must be a flaw. Never mind that it might be
an asset in the proper wine and food pairing.
At
the various New Mexico wine
festivals, I make a point, at some point, of tasting all of the dry
reds at the festival. There are quite a few wonderful New Mexico
reds. Especially those that the winemakers age for a few years.
One
year, at the Albuquerque wine
festival, I had a glass of Syrah from Southern New Mexico. Syrahs
are known to have a “hint of cherry.” In other words, a hint of
cherry in a Syrah would not kick it out of a competition as
hopelessly flawed. I took the glass of Syrah back to our booth where
I had earlier been pouring samples off to the side to customers who
seemed to be getting into our off the wall wines and to friends who
happened by. One of the wines that I had under the table was our
1998 Placitas Wild Cherry. Dry. Complex. Intense. Produced by
whole-fruit, sugar-starved fermentation of Placitas grown wild
cherries. I splashed some of the Wild Cherry in the Syrah. Estimated at
about 90% Syrah and 10% wild cherry. I tasted it,
passed it around the booth, headed back to the booth where I got the
Syrah, called out the winemaker, gave him a sample of the new blend
and ordered a batch of the Syrah to be delivered to Anasazi Fields
Winery. We have been making Rojo Seco ever since. The first lot was
2002 New Mexico Syrah and 1998 Placitas Wild Cherry. The second lot
was 2003/2001, respectively. The third lot 2004/2001.
The
immediate success of Rojo Seco led
to Blanco Seco.
Aside:
Because of the 11% Wild Cherry
Wine in our Rojo Seco, we cannot enter the blend in a grape wine
competition. Nor can we enter it in a fruit wine competition. I
did, however, slip it into a competition as a generic red wine. Because
I cheated, I cannot use the fact that it won a Silver Medal
for purposes of promotion. One of the judges did comment on the
“hint of cherry.” His mind refused to acknowledge that the
cherry had rattled his teeth.
Synaesthesia
SYNAESTHESIA
I
first came across the word in David
Abram’s The Spell of the Sensuous:
“The fusion of the senses”
“The
intertwining
of sensory
modalities seems unusual to us only
to the extent that we
have become
estranged from our direct experience
(and hence from our
primordial
contact with the entities and
elements that surround us)”
“Far
from
presenting a distortion of
their factual relation to the world, the
animistic discourse of indigenous,
oral peoples is an inevitable
counter
part of their immediate, synaesthetic
engagement with the
land they inhabit.”
Webster’s
New World Dictionary of
the American Language gives the definitions:
-
in
physiology, sensation felt in one part
of the body when another part is
stimulated.
-
in
psychology, a process in which one
type of stimulus produces a secondary,
subjective sensation, as when a specific
color evokes a specific smell sensation.
It seems an appropriate name for
our
one
pure
grape wine. The blend to which I refer
in the
following
piece. A field blend of
Syrah,
Black Malvasia and Gamay grown by
us
in the Historic Village of Placitas. Chip
calls it the wine that
messes with your synapses.
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WINEMAKER
TAKES A BREAK
Late
afternoon
Early
fall light
Cutting
across the landscape
Autumn shadows
Reaching
northward
I lean
back
Left foot
On the chair
In front of me
Knee sticking up
Leaning southward
I sip an
IPA
Watch the changing light
We picked
grapes today
2008 Synaesthesia
Reid and The Chicken Lady
Black Malvasia at the farm
Peter and I
Castel at the winery
Castel
The name given by the nursery
In Upstate New York
Castel
A Syrah/wild American grape hybrid
Castel
A grape offering a wine
Quite true to Mother Syrah
Castel
A vine with the vigor of a weed
Black
Malvasia
Came to the Rio Grande Valley
With the first Italians
A real grape
For real wine
Sacrament
wine
From
Mission grapes?
Black Malvasia
One of the Chianti grapes
A real grape
For real wine
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John Nance moved a few of the vines
From his apple orchard
In Corrales
To Placitas
Black Malvasia
Spices and black pepper
To the fruit of the Syrah
2008 Synaesthesia
I take
another sip of IPA
Autumn
shadows
Cut
across the landscape
Two
ravens croak southward
I finish
the IPA
Move to a glass of 2004 Synaesthesia
Plums
Cherries
Figs
Black pepper
Mediterranean spices
Dusty rawhide
2004 Synaesthesia
Castel and Black Malvasia
With a bit of Gamay thrown in
2004 Synaesthesia
An estate field blend
I take a
sip
Savoring the sensuous ride
From the tip of the tongue
To the long
Slow
Seductive
Satisfying
Complexity
Of the finish
I toast
the merging shadows
As the sun sets
Behind Overlook Ridge
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