Blame it on Rioja

Chanterelle Master Sommelier Roger Dagorn, whose knowledge of and passion for wine place him at his profession’s highest echelons, recently told me, “Look, Adrian, for all of wine’s importance in our lives, we still have to remember that the wine we serve here is essentially a condiment to David’s food,” referring to Chanterelle Chef David Waltuck, recent recipient of a James Beard Foundation Award for top chef in New York City.

The perfect accompaniment. A seamless harmony. An ideal complement. These were the scenarios going through my head after work last night, a cold pint of German pilsner working its restorative magic after a long and busy shift. But I wasn’t thinking about food and wine.

No, I was thinking of Emmylou Harris, roots country goddess with the voice of an angel. I own a bunch of her solo work–I particularly like Red Dirt Girl and her version of Townes Van Zandt’s “Pancho and Lefty” on Luxury Liner–but it’s in her collaborative work where she really shines, and it’s what I listen to most often, those songs that just couldn’t possibly be the same without her.

Wine can be great on its own; but match it with a set of flavors in a dish–that’s where the fireworks can happen. It’s the same with certain singers, too. Just as some grape varieties are quite literally made for food (Pinot Noir, Nebbiolo, and Tempranillo), certain singers add the perfect contrapuntal note to the “main course.” Some, like Emmylou, can even steal the show.

With a touch that’s ethereally light at the higher end of her register (as in Lucinda Williams’ “Greenville”) and harmonically grounding, even haunting, at the lower end (as in Steve Earle’s “Taneytown,” Emmylou Harris sends otherwise terrific songs into the stratosphere. When you think about it, she’s made essential contributions to some of American popular music’s finest moments, ever. We all owe the late, great Gram Parsons a huge debt for finding her in a Washington, D.C., and giving her to us.

I went through my collection and made a selection of what I think are the best songs that feature Emmylou Harris as a guest vocal. By no means exhaustive, they are all nevertheless stellar vocal achievements, equal parts emotionally transporting and utterly heartrending:

“Taneytown,” with Steve Earle, from El Corazon (1997) - impossible to hear these two voices sing ” ‘Boy, you look like hell,’ is all she said” and not get chills.

“A Song for You,” with Gram Parsons, from G.P. (1973) - Parsons is patron saint of country rock (or “Cosmic American Music,” as he called it) and had a shaky tenor capable of breaking your heart with lyrics as simple as “Oh, my land is like a wild goose.” But just listen to the last chorus, accompanied by Emmylou, and we’re on another plane: “Take me down to your dance floor. I won’t mind the people when they stare.”

“Oh My Sweet Carolina,” with Ryan Adams, from Heartbreaker (2000) - The first truly great album of the 21st century, and still one of the decade’s finest, Heartbreaker, I suspect, will still be in my permanent rotation twenty years from now. On this track, again in the last chorus, check out how exquisitely Emmylou shapes the word, “sweet” before “disposition.” Again, chills.

“Greenville,” with Lucinda Williams, from Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (1998) - I cannot exaggerate the brillance of this album, a lifetime of love, pain, sex, and resilience distilled into a single album. In this song, Emmylou’s finest moment comes at the end, with the refrain, “Oh, to rave about you.”

“One More Cup of Coffee,” with Bob Dylan, from Desire (1976)

“She’s Leaving Me Because She Really Wants To” with Lyle Lovett, from “Joshua Judges Ruth” (1992)

“We Are Nowhere, and It’s Now” with Bright Eyes, from I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning (2005) - “How could you forget your yellow bird?”

Click here to check out my iTunes playlist, which features all but one.

The chronology of Bodegas Valdemar–until 2003 known as Bodegas Martinez Bujanda (the name of the family that still owns it)–is in many ways the story of Rioja itself: modest beginnings in the late 19th century, steady growth throughout the first three quarters of the 20th century, intensive modernization in the 1980s. Also like the region itself, Valdemar continues to produce solid, reliable, and delicious everyday wines in the classical style under the Conde de Valdemar label (its flagship brand) while simultaneously staging a market-sensitive drive towards innovation with its dense, single-vineyard, French oak-aged big hitter, Finca Valpiedra.

Conde de Valdemar strikes a beautiful balance between what I find to be the classic taste of Rioja–fresh berry fruit, a toasty vanilla and earthy nose, easy drinkability, impeccable balance (meaning the presence of food-friendly acidity and the absence of that grape jelly sweetness present in so many comparably priced wines from warmer climates)–and updated winemaking technology, as its bodegas, located in the town of Oyon in the Rioja Alavesa, were among the first in the region to adopt stainless steel fermentation tanks and computers to monitor them. Conde de Valdemar 2002 Crianza (around $12 a bottle retail), with about 15% Mazuelo and a year and a half in American oak, is hard to beat in terms of bang for the buck. I had a glass ($8) of the ‘02 Crianza at Lucky Strike in SoHo last year with a Cheddar burger, and it rocked. (Think of the last time an $8 glass of wine rocked you.) The Conde de Valdemar 2001 Reserva (around $18 retail), from a superb vintage and with two years in oak, offers more power and terrific grace.

Finca Valpiedra, an 80 hectare plot located on the banks of the Ebro River in Rioja Alta, is one of the most beautiful vineyards in Rioja and affords gorgeous views of the Sierra de Cantabria on a clear day (pictured above: notice how the rain clouds from the north are held at bay by the mountain range). Here the oak is all French and all new (pictured below). Tempranillo is supported by Graciano, Mazuleo, and, believe or not, 6% Cabernet Sauvignon (planted before the grape was outlawed, and therefore grandfathered), all of which is sourced from the surrounding vineyards. Aromas of black cherries and creme brulee practically leap out of a glass of the 2001 Finca Valpiedra ($30 retail). My mom loved this wine when I ordered a bottle at Jaleo on her birthday last month; and, although I loved its lushness and aromatics, I found its very cherry character a little too dominant. I wondered what it would have tasted like if not so much new oak had been used, but at the same time wondered what it would be like after seven years in the cellar. I suspect that its fruitiness will have mellowed by then, the elegance of its specific origins easier to detect.

Spain has embraced innovation with extraordinary vigor since its transition to democracy thirty years ago—so much so that today Spain is virtually synonymous with what’s modern and cutting edge. Yet, as Giles Tremlett writes in his book, Ghosts of Spain: Travels Through Spain and its Silent Past (Walker & Co., 2006), “few countries hold on to and nurture their traditions so tenderly or so enthusiastically [as Spain].” Somehow, Tremlett continues, “tradition and modernity…manage to fit snugly together.”

One of the most startling examples of this harmonic convergence of old and new in Spain can be found at the R. Lopez de Heredia Vina Tondonia winery in Haro, where Rioja’s most ardent defender of the classic style of winemaking recently commissioned one of the country’s most strikingly modern structures.

According to Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia, the bodega’s eloquent and tireless managing director, it was the only commission architect Zaha Hadid has ever considered via email.

What made the Lopez project so compelling for Hadid?

Project architect Jim Heverin from Hadid’s London offices explains:

The project was very ambitious in scope from the beginning, operating on various scales and timescales: a pavilion for a temporary fair in Barcelona which could be relocated back to Haro within a new visitor center/ museum which would reshape the image of a very old classical Rioja bodega. It was an intriguing combination of scopes with a client who was willing to consider all options. At all scales there was the constant thread of the new confronting the old. The pavilion would house an older pavilion, the new pavilion would sit within the old bodega and the new museum would sit within the same context. The client came to us from a friend’s recommendation and inspired by our coverage in the El Croquis magazine. She asked by email to see us and when she came we didn’t speak much, she spoke for several hours by which stage we felt part of the family. It was even more intriguing that she chose us when one sees how they work at their bodega: techniques of wine production unaltered by fashions and preserved from one generation to the next. So for her to ask us to design a new pavilion was quite a leap of faith for her, and we couldn’t really refuse someone who displayed such faith in us.

The old pavilion had been found in their outhouses and restored to its original condition. It had been originally commissioned by the great grandfather for the world fair exhibition in 1910. The proprietors of the bodega had a long succession of adding their built presence to the tradition of the bodega. The new pavilion was to be exhibited at the Alimentaria Fair in Barcelona and afterwards relocated to the bodegas at Haro in Rioja. In time the pavilion would be superseded by a new extension of cultural buildings. As such it was a stepping-stone, a bridge between the past, present and future development of the bodega.

For us the starting point was to jump into the future to determine how the present would evolve. We began this project by a series of studies exploring how the bodegas could evolve. Working backwards from these studies the pavilion began to emerge in tandem.

The pavilion would house the past, the old pavilion. Made from timber and designed in a fin de siecle style the old pavilion became a jewel within a new container. Like a series of Russian dolls the new pavilion itself was to be eventually housed within the new extension at the bodegas. The new pavilion would be just one layer in a larger composition.

Proceeding with this almost onion analogy, various studies led to a container developed in sectional cuts. The section distorts from a rectangle around the old pavilion to a distorted memory shape resembling a decanter. Which was not an intentional end point but once noticed it could not be ignored that we had designed a new bottle for an old wine.

In the restaurant business, profit margins ride largely on alcohol sales, and wine markups can often reach up to 300% of cost, even more when served by the glass. With such high rents in New York City, drinkers here for a night on the town can expect to pay even more of a premium. Now that wine bars are everywhere, this has led to the lamentable $12 crap-ass wine-by-the-glass phenomenon, when lazy or downright greedy wine list writers have the cojones to pour schlock into my glass whilst reaching deeply into my wallet.

No me gusta.

Which is why I nearly shed tears of joy when this morning I saw that the SoHo Park Cafe, on the hoity-toity corner of Prince and Lafayette, was offering a glass of Loriñon 2001 Rioja Reserva by the glass for the very reasonable price of $9. They’ve got killer burgers here, served on a potato roll no less (it’s truly the world’s most underrated bread), along with hot dogs, bratwurst, and grilled cheese, and an awesome little outdoor nook with picnic tables that I’ve never seen full, a rarity in the big city at this time of year.

If you’re downtown dropping big bucks on labels, skip the long wait at Shake Shack uptown and head to SoHo Park instead. Order a Park Cheese (with Cheddar) with hand-cut fries ($8.50) and a glass of one of the region’s best value wines from one of the best recent vintages, and you will spend less than $20 for a great little lunch. And while you’re sitting outside, basking in such beautifully matched deliciousness, swirling your glass of wine knowing you’ve gotten a deal, think of me and smile.