Scout small producers to explore Burgundies

ST. PETERSBURG -- Our host was celebratory but not optimistic.

Aleth Voarick had pulled out a 15-year-old Burgundy to close the evening, one her father had made when he was leasing a little land in the oh-so-prestigious Romanee-St.Vivant vineyards.

We didn't need it. We had just tasted our way through five reds and two whites from the 2000 vintage from the family's properties in vineyards around the hill of Corton in the Cote de Beaune of France.

"Uh-oh." Even though she has a carefully controlled cellar under the stairs in her St. Petersburg home, the lead capsule on the bottle was stuck and didn't turn freely.

Bad sign. When removed it revealed a cork that had expanded, and the top was discolored with not a little mold. Many Burgundies don't live this long, and 1987 was not the best of years.

Voarick made a face. "This does not look good, but we shall see how it does."

It did remarkably well. The color had paled from a gemlike scarlet to a rather rusty sienna wine that experts call onion skin, like the patina of old leather.

It drank as easily as silk, the last surviving tannins holding it together without any bitterness. The cherry and berry fruits had been been distilled to their essence, while delicate hints of smoke and leather and earth added mystery.

A charming glass, against high odds, and proof that the delight in wine is that someone somewhere sometime picked, crushed and fermented acres of grapes which eventually became something quite pleasant to drink. It is sometimes hard to remember wine is a sensual thing produced by the earth and human labor, rather than a competitive product objectified, quantified and deified in dusty books or breathless Web sites.

Believe your tongue instead.

It was a fitting conclusion to a tasting of the most recent production of Domaine Michel Voarick, a small Burgundy producer in the little French village of Aloxe-Corton where Aleth Voarick grew up and still returns each year to help with the harvest.

If you know the name it is not because you have read it touted in Wine Spectator or seen a high rating from Robert Parker. You haven't. You may have read it in these pages before or know Mme. Voarick as a neighbor in the Old Northeast section of St. Petersburg or as someone who sold you wine over the years at Fancy's or the Imperial Wine Chateau. Or you may have been lucky enough to have tried one of its wines before.

Otherwise it would be an obscure name in an odd corner of a region so complex it intimidates many wine buyers. The most famous vineyards are only a few acres, and they may be split up row by row among many producers. The result is that for Americans, Burgundies seem too expensive, too variable, a risky and expensive gamble.

Actually the bet isn't that big nowadays. When so many Bordeauxs now command $100 and up, the mid range of good Burgundies are often less, from $20 to $30 for good village wines to premier cru for around $50.

That's more than a Friday-night bottle for most people, but the reward -- the taste of pinot noir and chardonnay as the French invented and prefer them -- can be worth it.

Still Michel Voarick's wines have it tough geographically. In the simplest understanding of Burgundy, the best vineyards lie on the eastern slope of the hillside running from Dijon south past Beaune, next to the plain of the Saone river. The northern half, known as the Cote de Nuits, is home to great reds made from pinot noir, such as Chambertin. The southern half, called the Cote de Beaune, grows the finest of French whites, such as Le Montrachet.

Fine enough, for the vineyards on the hill of Corton do make great chardonnay, Corton and Corton-Charlemagne, so named because the emperor reportedly once owned the vineyard. Those wines are rated grand cru, and those made by the Voaricks and other local vintners sell out readily.

But other parts of the same hillside grow red wines, pinot noirs that are the only red wines in the white-famous Cote de Beaune to reach grand cru status. The Voaricks make three of them as well, but the reds of Corton can be overlooked by those who looked only north for pinot.

Not to mention that outside the highly ranked vineyards, more grapes grow and are made into "village" wines, which bear only the name of little Aloxe-Corton or its neighbor, Pernand-Vergelesse.

Thus one small parcel of Burgundy with a modest amount of fame can produce a dizzying number of choices. The Corton vineyard alone is divided into 20 climats entitled to their own appellations, and there are at least 60 wineries that own parts of them. Ultimately the Voaricks may make 4,000 cases of wine a year, of which perhaps a total of 12,000 bottles of wine arrive in the United States wearing seven different labels.

Then there are the vintages that bedevil producers and consumers alike, especially in Burgundy, where weather and the initial criticism many years is harsh. Of 2000, the critics are again skeptical. Voarick thinks they are short-sighted and reinforce a tendency to drink Burgundy too young.

"They really torpedoed the '94s, and now they are drinking beautifully and selling like hotcakes. The '97s too."

So what do the 2000 wines of Voarick and other small producers have going for them?

Taste. And the good value that comes from not being very well known.

At the lowest village levels, which sell for $20 to $30, the pinot from Pernand-Vergelesse is lighter, with a hint of cinnamon in the fruit, while the Aloxe-Corton tastes of dark cherries with a full, smooth finish.

The reds from grand cru vineyards of Corton are more substantial and elegant -- and command $50 or so. Corton Languettes has a supple, gentle texture that's easy to drink and a taste of ripe sweet fruit, of both plums and cherries; that from Clos du Roi is tighter now, with more berries and spice; and the Corton Renardes is the fullest of all, closer to a syrup of red fruits, with a smell of violets and earth.

The white wine the Voaricks make from Pernand-Vergelesse is remarkably full and rich for a "village" wine, a chardonnay that tastes of clean ripe grapes and not like a wooden barrel, yet still round. And the grand cru Corton-Charlemagne is as imperial as its name, a sumptuous blend of apples and figs with honey and licorice in the background, a wine that is somehow dry and fat.

In short, wines of an average vintage, tasted too young, from a relatively little known producer in a fragmented corner of Burgundy can be charming -- while promising more pleasure with age.

Sure, it's hard to tell with Burgundies.

In Europe, wine lovers can drive up and down the A37 and stop in tasting rooms of small growers until they find a place they want to buy a case. Americans have fewer to choose from, get scarce chances to taste and depend too much on books and ratings of the best-known names.

Yet you can still explore Burgundy here within a modest-splurge budget. If you get a chance to taste the great ones, fine, but it's more fun to skip the most famous vineyards, to scout around smaller producers, buy a couple and wait a little.

Take a chance.

The growers do.

-- Domaine Michel Voarick wines are sold only in Florida and New York markets. Locally, some are available at A Taste for Wine in St. Petersburg and Vintage Wine Cellars and West Palm Wines in Tampa.

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