Cooked!
Courtesy of
30 Second Wine Advisor
By
Robin GarrIt doesn't take most wine enthusiasts long to
learn to recognize a wine that's "corked." Once you've had it
pointed out, it's easy to detect the musty, mushroomy stench of
chlorine-based chemicals from tainted natural corks (or, on
occasion, wood and other contaminants).
But how about the other frequent culprit in spoiled wine?
"Cooked" wine - damaged by exposure to excess heat in transportation
or storage or a long spell on the shelf in a warm wine shop or even
on your own wine rack at home - can also escape detection until
you've brought it home and uncorked disappointment at the dinner
table.
Recognizing cooked wine can be a challenge for a couple of
reasons:
First, the effects may not be immediately apparent. Years ago, as a
simple experiment, I deliberately left a bottle of modest California
Cabernet all afternoon on a searing summer day. Tasted "blind"
against an un-cooked sample a few days later, after it had cooled,
the "cooked" wine actually tasted better than its un-treated
companion: More fruit- forward and integrated, as if it had enjoyed
a ride foward in a time machine. Read about it in "'Cooking' Wine,
an experiment," in the June 18, 2001
Wine Advisor.
This process is not unknown in the industry, and legend has it
that the occasional unscrupulous producer will "flash-heat" cheap
wines to enhance their fruit profile ... for a little while.
But this practice isn't prudent, and I don't recommend that you
boost your wines with a brief bake in a warm oven. The flash-heating
effect doesn't last for long, and experience shows that cooked wines
quickly fall apart, because of the damaging effects of the heat
itself, and perhaps because the expansion and contraction of the
wine and air in its headspace may inhale a bit of damaging air
around the cork.
I had the disappointment of an obviously "cooked" wine the other
day; no point in naming it, for fear the producer be blamed for the
importer or retailer's crime. Suffice it to say that it was a fine
Sangiovese and Sagrantino blend from Umbria that I had been looking
forward to enjoying with an excellent Italian meal.
The first sign of trouble came when I noticed that the foil
capsule around the business end of the bottle was glued tight to the
glass with dried wine that had leaked around the cork ("crud," to
use a technical wine-tasting term). While this is not a sure sign of
damaged wine - I've had plenty of fine wine from repulsively cruddy
bottles - it's an almost certain sign that the wine hasn't been kept
consistently under cool storage conditions. The cork seemed
unusually soft, spongy and dry, and when I pulled it out, it had
been stained with red wine from end to end.
The wine's color didn't betray serious problems: It was clear,
not cloudy, and remained garnet, reddish-violet, without the
distinct "brown" colors that betray a dead wine. But the aroma and
flavor further suggested a wine damaged by heat or exposure to air:
Subtle fruit remained, focused on red-skinned plums, but it was
hiding shyly behind a veil of burnt sugar and caramel. Tart fruit
flavors were laced with the light but distinct walnut and pecan
character, reminiscent of Sherry, that betrays oxidation. This one
was borderline, frankly. In contrast with cork taint, which almost
always renders a wine undrinkable for me, this one retained enough
fruit and structure to be palatable. But the experience was
significantly diminished, and it wouldn't be fair to represent this
wine as typical of its brand with a formal tasting note.
Bottom line, if the retailer was aware that the wine was damaged,
it shouldn't have been on the shelf. And if we hadn't gone ahead and
drunk most of the bottle, I would have felt fully justified in
taking it back for a refund. If you encounter a wine that's
obviously corked or cooked, you should do the same. |
