Breathless.

There was a semi-interesting article from The SOMM Journal being circulated around TWWIAGE last week.  Dr. Paulo Lopes, Research and Development Manager at Amorim Cork, recently published the results of research he has been conducting into the merits of cork as a wine bottle closure.  Without going into the nuts and bolts of the process of oxidation, the gist of the article was that cork does not breathe; the only oxygen that diffuses into wine is the air trapped in a cork's nooks and crannies.  In a nutshell, or a screw cap, perhaps, the article asserts that it makes no difference if a wine is stored upright or lying on its side.  Furthermore, the article claims that it is very "liberating" when wine-myths are debunked by science.  Aah, I feel so free now.
Dr. Dick Peterson, an early California-wine industry innovator, has always maintained, well, at least since the early 1960s, that sound corks do not breathe air.  Dr. P even has a great quote about the breathlessness of cork, "Show me a cork that breathes and I'll show you a bottle of vinegar."  I'm a little sceptical of the whole premise, but I'll trust the good doctor on this.
My illustrative photograph is of a sparkling-wine cork that came out of a bottle of Chandon étoile that I popped open last Friday night.  I had assumed that the cork had done its job and had sealed the bottle perfectly, and anaerobically.  (The article states that, "the classic mushroom shape of a sparkling-wine cork is formed by its contact with CO2."  Now that's interesting.)  This particular mushroom-shaped cork had managed to transfer something to the wine though, not air but 2,4,6-Trichloroanisole (TCA).  I reluctantly poured the entire, tainted bottle down the sink.  Hate when that happens.  Still, there is a happy ending.  Celebrating Vinomaker's birthday last night, a day early, I ordered a bottle of étoile at a restaurant and it was delicious.
So what does all this fuss about the oxygen transfer rate (OTR) of cork mean to the average consumer?  In my opinion, not much.  None of the information in the article is going to change anything about my wine buying/storing/drinking habits.  Some people just love to do studies and write definitive articles about their findings.  And it always helps when their findings reinforce the science behind the product they are promoting.  Ta da!
Oh, and Happy Birthday Vinomaker!

Teak a look at this.

Whilst out shopping with my mother, I came across this forlorn looking 375 ml bottle of 1975 Chateau Musar in a patio furniture emporium. Having only my phone with me, I took a quick snap of this once proud, now crestfallen wine relegated to being a mere prop on a circular teak table, but not before I caught the attention of the shop owner. I then endured a 5 minute long dissertation on the merits of a another table (that I feigned interest in) and it's 6" by 2" teak plank top. Not about to fork out $2500 for the aforementioned table, I finally summoned up the courage to inquire as to the provenance of the dejected looking baby-bottle of wine. It was indeed a genuine bottle of Chateau Musar purchased from Sotheby's in New York by a wine-loving friend of the table-touter.
Having shared many wonderful bottles of Musar in the past with my brother and Lord Roby, I left the store feeling rather glum - I do tend to be overly anthropomorphic. What a sad fate to befall this diminutive bottle of wine which once had the potential of being set upon a tabletop as the star of the show, only to be demoted to a supporting role. Wine is meant to be enjoyed...not displayed.

Holy wine.

Whilst my family OTW has jetted off to Lucca for a mini-holiday, school is back in for me and I won't be going anywhere, anytime soon...least of all Tuscany. So, to put myself in their holiday spirit, I decided to have some Vin Santo after dinner.
The best known of Italy's sweet wines, the grapes from which Vin Santo is made, are left to dehydrate for months after harvest to concentrate the sugar content. The grapes can either be red or white, but white is more typical. It is found all over regulation-crazed Italy ( it is called Vino Santo in Trentino-Alta Adige), but mainly Tuscany. The wine is then aged in barrels, up in attics, to produce a madeira-like effect, developing oxidised characteristics, with complex aromas and flavours. Vin Santo should be at least 3 years old, 4 years for a riserva, and may be sweet or dry.
One small glass was not really a sufficient amount to transport me to some medieval, walled city, but it was enough to distract me from my Humanities homework.