Levi Dalton
Levi Dalton
Ezio Voyat "Le Muraglie" Rosso 2000
Voyat. I was familiar with the name. There was a picture of the grand old man in Burton Anderson's long out of print "Wines of Italy". There was a mention of the legendary Chambave Rouge in Neal Rosenthal's memoir. And there was a listing for this wine on an otherwise non-Valle d'Aosta focused list in Manhattan. "How is the Voyat?" I asked the sommelier. "What?" I know from experience that it is easy to lose track of a large wine list. You put 2 or 3,000 wines on a list, and you know, some of them just sort of, well, get forgotten about. I hazarded another try: "How is the Ezio Voyat red, the Valle d'Aosta red?" The reply was straightforward: "I have no idea what you are talking about." So there we were, none of us having tried a Voyat, and one ripe for the picking. "Bring me this wine here, and an extra glass for yourself, and we will all try it together," perhaps one of the better decisions I have made recently.
Because the wine is delicious. Utterly delicious.
Imagine an alpine Desvignes.
Imagine cut and minerality so intertwined with broad layers of fruit that you can't see the edges, can't find the place where one stops and the other begins.
Imagine a wine that is perfumed inside it's texture, on the palate more than the nose.
Yum.
Some people drinking this brought up Carema. Others mentioned Dolcetto from Alba. It turns out to be a blend of Petit Rouge, Gros Vien, and Dolcetto.
Voyat died in 2003, in his 80's. The wines are currently being produced by his widow and daughter, and being imported by Domenico Valentino selections. The importer label on the 2000 was sporting a name unknown to me, and was also a Vino di Tavola, with no vintage given on the label outside of a Lot number.
I long to drink it again.
Voyat. I was familiar with the name. There was a picture of the grand old man in Burton Anderson's long out of print "Wines of Italy". There was a mention of the legendary Chambave Rouge in Neal Rosenthal's memoir. And there was a listing for this wine on an otherwise non-Valle d'Aosta focused list in Manhattan. "How is the Voyat?" I asked the sommelier. "What?" I know from experience that it is easy to lose track of a large wine list. You put 2 or 3,000 wines on a list, and you know, some of them just sort of, well, get forgotten about. I hazarded another try: "How is the Ezio Voyat red, the Valle d'Aosta red?" The reply was straightforward: "I have no idea what you are talking about." So there we were, none of us having tried a Voyat, and one ripe for the picking. "Bring me this wine here, and an extra glass for yourself, and we will all try it together," perhaps one of the better decisions I have made recently.
Because the wine is delicious. Utterly delicious.
Imagine an alpine Desvignes.
Imagine cut and minerality so intertwined with broad layers of fruit that you can't see the edges, can't find the place where one stops and the other begins.
Imagine a wine that is perfumed inside it's texture, on the palate more than the nose.
Yum.
Some people drinking this brought up Carema. Others mentioned Dolcetto from Alba. It turns out to be a blend of Petit Rouge, Gros Vien, and Dolcetto.
Voyat died in 2003, in his 80's. The wines are currently being produced by his widow and daughter, and being imported by Domenico Valentino selections. The importer label on the 2000 was sporting a name unknown to me, and was also a Vino di Tavola, with no vintage given on the label outside of a Lot number.
I long to drink it again.