Late harvest and port-style wines can take your taste buds for a sweet ride.
To say I was thrilled to get this assignment—to write about some of the greatest dessert wines of the North Bay—is an understatement of British magnitude. First of all, when you say Port, you say Portuguese; I’m half Portuguese and, thus, possess an abiding and encompassing love of Port wines of all colors, shapes and sizes.
When you add in the “late harvest” spectrum, from the all-fruit Riesling to the more solid Semillon and Sauvignon Blanc side of things, you’re adding the ultimate sweet tooth wines. Understand, some of these beauties are fully one-fourth sugar by weight—sugar shock, to be sure, but what an entertaining and luxurious way to die!
The other story-tying-together theme deftly woven into this article came about by felicitous accident, when I started asking these excellent vintners how their normally perceived “dessert” wines might be enjoyed with entrée items. I know it’s something of a faith-altering notion, but these richly sweet “dessert” wines can be served and heartily enjoyed with the main course. I know this is a mind-expanding idea, but stick with it, and your taste buds and sense of adventure will be richly rewarded.
A family tradition
When you talk about Port north of the Golden Gate, you start with Prager, a small, family operation that’s cozily tucked into a dusty, spider-web-laced nook behind (and around the corner from) Sutter Home’s fashionable Victorian restoration (now the winery’s executive offices) off Highway 29 on the south side of St. Helena. That’s one of the many things that connects me to the Prager family: The Pragers and I—unlike my anti-arachnid wife, daughter and new son-in-law (even though he’s a Marine!)—see spiders as fly-catchers. The Pragers, thusly, don’t disturb their insect-inviting webs. We’re talking Old School pest control here. (To be fair, my Marine son-in-law was twice bitten by camel spiders [they are huge] when he was in Iraq last year.)
A couple of decades ago, when I first wrote about Prager Winery & Port Works, I was introduced to a one-time insurance exec, Jim Prager, who’d traded in the incessant and inveterate hustle of Southern California for the bucolic “blue jeans and t-shirt” life of the Northern California winemaker. “I love people, they’re so damned human!” the silver-haired, silver-bearded, silver-tongued Prager told me then, his blue eyes a-flash with energy and goodwill. “Our visitors tell us they feel like they’re in our kitchen here in the winery. I’ll never have a counter to stand behind. That would separate me from my customers, and that just wouldn’t feel right.”
Today, the winery is still small (at just 3,600 cases per year), but most of Jim and Imogene Prager’s kids are involved in the operation. Katie Rooney is CFO (“She likes to control things,” says one of her brothers—I’m not saying which), Mary Lenney is the Port Club manager and handles special events, John takes care of sales and marketing, Jeff is general manager and Peter is winemaker. And great grandpop Peter—he’s 99—shows up in the tasting room now and again to raise a toast. (He’s known to show off his “pretty good” dancing skills at the winery’s annual Port party, too.)
“We like to see ourselves as kind of special, and we’re definitely not part of the Napa Valley glitz,” says Peter, who earned his degree in enology from Fresno State. “First of all, we make Port, mainly, so that’s definitely out of the mainstream. Then, we have a spider web in the downstairs window—it’s our original ‘web site’—that’s literally been undisturbed for decades.” Still have the money wall? “Yes, we still have our much-talked-about money wall, where visitors from the four corners of the earth have tacked up their own currencies, signed and dated, to commemorate their visits.” Indeed, there are more than 100 different countries represented and even some Confederate bills; a “genuine counterfeit” $100 bill was actually stolen off display.
Imogene Prager’s home made glazed walnuts are still offered in the tasting room—they’re exquisite with the Ports, as you might imagine—but the two onsite bed and breakfast rooms are currently being renovated and there’s no definite reopen date. “I think mom got a little tired of running the bed and breakfast, but she’s still doing the walnuts, so that’s good,” enthuses Peter.
Port is the winery’s raison d’etre, so let’s start with the 2004 Napa Valley White Port, called “Aria,” which is light gold in color. This Chardonnay-based wine shows off pear, orange peel and walnut aromatics, with hints of cedar, oak, vanilla and crème brulée. Yes, it’s primarily an aperitif wine—but try it with a creamy soup, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised. “It’s really good with shellfish, cracked crab or oysters,” volunteers Peter, getting into the mood.
Then there’s the 2004 Tomás Port, Imogene’s Vineyard. This one is excellent, with licorice spiciness, plenty of plum and orange peel fruit, and a hint of vanilla bean extract that holds it all together brilliantly. This wine is made mainly from three of the traditional Portuguese Port varieties: Touriga, Roriz and Tinta Cao. “Not many growers in California grow the Port varieties,” says Peter. “We have five of the Portuguese varieties in our small [10 acre] Calistoga vineyard. We think this wine goes well with pizza.”
The Pragers’ top Port is called “Royal Escort.” It’s been made every year since 1981, but only seven of those have been declared vintage (meaning they’re made from grapes of a single vintage and bottled within two years). The 2004 Royal Escort—made entirely from Petite Sirah grown in St. Helena—more than justifies that selection process. This wine is killer, dense and dark, rich and oily, with blackberry and plum fruit that’s so intense, the best description I can give you is “purple.” I know that’s usually thought to be a color, but all I can say is use your imagination and try and think how “purple” might taste. If you press me, I’ll have to resort to violet, blood orange and dark chocolate (two of those involve colors, too). “As an accompaniment to an entrée, I like this one with a rib eye steak, really,” insists Peter. “It has the structure to stand up to the richness of the meat.” I’m inclined to agree.
There’s also a Petite Sirah that’s worth noting, because this is a hard variety to do this well. The 2003 Napa Valley Petite Sirah is nearly black in color, and there’s nothing “petite” about it. It’s flush with fleshy spiced plum and blackberry fruit that’s rich, yet the wine has a silkiness that belies all that stuffing. Taste it and you’ll see what I mean. “We keep the fermentation temperature down to get that silky texture,” explains Peter.
Free your mind
The most basic beverage postulate in this country is that Americans prefer their liquids light, cold and sweet. No shocker there, to be sure, from soda pop to mixed drinks.
No surprise, either, that the late harvest wines—those ambrosial beauties so often informed by the botrytis infection that adds a honeyed tone to the sugar high (and seriously concentrates both sugar and flavor by way of dehydration)—are most often served as dessert: whether by themselves, complemented with melon or contrasted with a sharp cheese (like Roquefort).
Imagine my surprise, then, the first time I was served Sauternes—that immensely rich, high alcohol (15 percent is the norm), sweet French wine that’s the epitome of “dessert”—with roasted chicken. Not once, but three times in a week’s visit to that exquisite corner of Bordeaux! When they first poured the gold-colored, syrup-thick liquid into my wine glass—the chicken was already on my plate—I looked from one to the other, then looked out the nearest window seeking airborne oinkers. Not seeing any of those, I tasted the chicken. Succulent, moist, juicy, like a slow-roasted chicken should be. Then I sipped the wine and, lo and behold… I got it! Wow!!
That’s the experience you want when any new food and wine combination really works: Wow!! With double exclamation marks. It’s not necessary to work out the logistics of it. It’s quite enough to do the double-emphasized “wow” and simply luxuriate in something so right, so sensual, so utterly uplifting.
Only after the experience has fully settled in, after it’s sufficiently milked for that sensual satisfaction, do you allow yourself the minor luxury of analysis—why it worked so well—and the exploration for other such odd, sweet-with-the-entrée match-ups, as anyone with a well-developed sweet tooth would do. And, with a bit of patience, you find them.
Located in Oakville, Dolce produces California’s closest Sauternes equivalent. The 2004 Dolce is a wonderfully concentrated amalgam of pineapple, honey, sweet grass and truffle earthiness, with hints of peach and vanilla. (I also tasted the 2002, which adds textural richness and almond notes. These wines are capable of handling decades of bottle age gracefully.) And, like the French version, it’s capable of a far wider range of food combinations than the narrow “dessert wine” designation allows for.
Dirk Hampson, director of winemaking and chairman of Far Niente, Nickel & Nickel and Dolce, once told me, “We actually had a luncheon where we poured Dolce with every course. We wanted to push the boundaries of our idea of the wine. The sheer weight of the meal brought everybody to their knees!”
It also taught participants that wines of this weight and complexity go far beyond the traditional notions of fois gras and Roquefort. “Yes, fois gras is the traditional match,” Hampson continues. “Why is that so phenomenal? Because of the texture, because the fois gras is so mousse-like. But roast chicken in cream sauce was absolutely incredible with the wine.”
Hampson (the original Dolce winemaker) is convinced it’s the food’s texture that really makes the difference. “We tried Roquefort cheese with hard crackers and soft crackers, and it didn’t work nearly so well with the hard crackers,” he says. “I was looking through a history of Chateau d’Yquem, at some of the menu items they’ve historically served with d’Yquem: Custards were popular; Virginia ham, braised in Sauternes; pork with apricots; lobster; duck in orange sauce; veal sweetbreads; braised whitefish in mushrooms.
“I think the general rules are, number one, anything salty works—think bleu cheese and Roquefort—two, texture is tremendously important, and three, things that are really sweet don’t work, because the wine ends up tasting almost sour in comparison. Essentially, you want something soft and fatty with a texture that melts in your mouth.”
Bring your sweet tooth
Up the coast, in the narrow, apple-defined Anderson Valley in Mendocino County is the Navarro Vineyard of Deborah Cahn, Ted Bennett and their children, Aaron and Sarah Cahn Bennett. (Bennett is the co-founder of Pacific Stereo; they sold that business to finance their dream wine estate.) There, in a Pacific-chilled, often moist climate—necessary for the inoculation of the “noble mold” botrytis—they produce some of this country’s finest Late Harvest wines from Gewurztraminer, White Riesling and Muscat, varietals not among the usual suspects for busting out into the entrée field, what with their markedly lower alcohols, higher sugars and fresher, more innocent fruit expressions than the Sauternes model.
You know you’ve been set up here, right? “Figs,” says Deborah Cahn, her intonation as profound as “Plastics” (you remember The Graduate?). “We have fig trees here on the ranch. Cut the fruit in half, put a large dab of fresh goat cheese in the middle, wrap each half with prosciutto, then skewer and roast ’em slowly over hot coals until the cheese melts. Great with the Late Harvest Gewurztraminer.” The 2006 Cluster Select Late Harvest Gewurztraminer has that cinnamon spice that utterly sparkles and shines, despite its inherent sweetness.
Cahn agrees that soft, creamy items help. “Fresh crab and ricotta cheese cannelloni in a white sauce is excellent, but it doesn’t work with a tomato sauce. Too much acidity. Our Riesling Late Harvest is delicious with Peking duck in a plum sauce. Ham, with an apple cider glaze or poached pears, that’s pretty good, too. Meat and fruit combinations are also good, as they highlight the honey and apricot character botrytis gives the wines. A lot of Chinese restaurants carry our botrytised wines, as the flavors in Chinese cuisine work well with sweet wine accompaniment.
“Curried lamb with apricot chutney is a favorite at our house. We cook some raisins and cut up apples to put in the apricot chutney. And, of course, around here, abalone is a local delicacy. Just bread it and sauté it in butter and serve it plain, with the Late Harvest Riesling. You have to taste it to believe it.” And taste it, you should. The 2006 version of the Cluster Select Late Harvest Riesling is pure apricot syrup, with enough acidity to balance out all that residual sugar.
Navarro also has a Cluster Select Late Harvest Muscat Blanc 2005 that’s gold in color and orchid-scented, with honey and orange peel. Cahn suggests pairing this one with a curried chicken salad with mango and papaya or pasta tossed with crisp chicken livers and caramelized onions.
As with all wine and food combinations, best to approach them with a sense of fun, silliness and adventure. I don’t know about you, but my mind is open and my mouth watering just thinking about all those delectable notions to match up with botrytised wines. Personally, I’m leaning toward a filet mignon, rare, with Roquefort butter for a Sauvignon/Semillon-based botrytised wine, or a 12-hour, slow-cooked lamb shank (seasoned with olive oil, rosemary and garlic) for any of the these late harvest beauties. What do you think?
