One of the perks, for those so minded, of my job is the travel to scientific meetings and conferences in all sorts of exotic locations, such as Washington, DC in mid-August. This particular trip to Ventura, CA for a week-long Gordon Research Conference gave me the opportunity to acquaint myself with recent developments in Sideways country (more on this later) and also to visit some of the locals. In this latter vein, Tuesday saw me motoring down the PCH to Mailbu for lunch with the legend, the alluring Eden Mylunsch.
The adventure began when I arrived at her seaside bungalow and, after an exchange of pleasantries, was given the task of selecting appropriate lunch wines from the reefer. Since the plan was to dine at Malibu Seafood, Eden had thoughtfully propped up a few whites for my perusal. Despite the temptation of the Chave Hermitage Blanc lurking in the background, I finally settled on a bottle of the '99 Nikolaihof Grner Veltliner Federspiel Imweingebirge that beckoned from the front. Upon announcing my selection, I was informed by my hostess that I needed to select TWO wines for lunch. Wow, this Malibu lifestyle is certainly alien to my workaday existence. Wine with lunch is novel enough, but a bottle a person? Good thing I didn't have to return to the meeting until 6. So, what next? As luck would have it, removal of the GV revealed behind it a bottle of the '94 Tyrell's Vat 1 Semillon. When I revealed that I'd never had an aged example of a Hunter Valley Semillon, the deal was done, so off we went to our lunch spot.
I freely confess that Eden's attire of leather pants, stiletto heels and (faux?) leopard-skin coat was slightly OTT for the occasion, but we made quite a splash upon disembarking from her cherry red Maybeck and entering the cramped fishmonger's storefront to order our food. Having selected some clams and fish tacos, we retreated outside for al fresco dining and unbridled wine geekery. Eden popped the corks on both bottles with a defiant look in her eyes that clearly communicated to me that I wasn't going to get away without a full-on geek-out. so I set myself to the task with enthusiasm. Both wines emerged a pale gold in color.
First up was the Grner, which was -- as expected -- bone dry, with a strong minerality. Beneath that overlay, however, was a distinct Welch's Grape Juice vibe that was so incongruous that I had to revisit the wine three times to assure myself that I wasn't succumbing to some sun-induced hallucination. While I wouldn't call the wine fresh, it bore no sign of oxidation and was quite lively in the mouth with plenty of acidity. Turning my attention next to the Semillon, I was struck immediately by the incongruity of the nose. Smelling quite a bit like an aged Roussanne or Macabeo, it showed a little buttery, nutty character with licorice thrown in. In the mouth, it was slightly oxidative and still bracingly acidic. Both wines worked a treat with the clams and the delicious tacos.
With wines in hand, we proceeded to shoot the breeze for a few hours, talking about cars, guitars and teenage violence, with Eden regaling me with tales of touring with Blind Lemon Jefferson and Root Boy Slim and of working wine events in Greater SoCal (Who knew that the Governator was a Rotgipfler aficionado?!) As the afternoon wore on, the GV lost what fruit it had but the Semillon cruised on. Eventually, we packed it in, headed back to Chateau Mylunsch, where she cut me a CD, handed me a 1 L bottle of water and hustled me out the door so that she could prepare for the arrival of some Hollywood bigwigs later. With a hearty thanks to her for the generosity shown this itinerant winegeek, I drove off, accompanied only by the sun, slowly setting over the Pacific. In the harsh light of a new day, my hazy recollections seem more like a dream, but it all happened... didn't it?
Mark Lipton
The adventure began when I arrived at her seaside bungalow and, after an exchange of pleasantries, was given the task of selecting appropriate lunch wines from the reefer. Since the plan was to dine at Malibu Seafood, Eden had thoughtfully propped up a few whites for my perusal. Despite the temptation of the Chave Hermitage Blanc lurking in the background, I finally settled on a bottle of the '99 Nikolaihof Grner Veltliner Federspiel Imweingebirge that beckoned from the front. Upon announcing my selection, I was informed by my hostess that I needed to select TWO wines for lunch. Wow, this Malibu lifestyle is certainly alien to my workaday existence. Wine with lunch is novel enough, but a bottle a person? Good thing I didn't have to return to the meeting until 6. So, what next? As luck would have it, removal of the GV revealed behind it a bottle of the '94 Tyrell's Vat 1 Semillon. When I revealed that I'd never had an aged example of a Hunter Valley Semillon, the deal was done, so off we went to our lunch spot.
I freely confess that Eden's attire of leather pants, stiletto heels and (faux?) leopard-skin coat was slightly OTT for the occasion, but we made quite a splash upon disembarking from her cherry red Maybeck and entering the cramped fishmonger's storefront to order our food. Having selected some clams and fish tacos, we retreated outside for al fresco dining and unbridled wine geekery. Eden popped the corks on both bottles with a defiant look in her eyes that clearly communicated to me that I wasn't going to get away without a full-on geek-out. so I set myself to the task with enthusiasm. Both wines emerged a pale gold in color.
First up was the Grner, which was -- as expected -- bone dry, with a strong minerality. Beneath that overlay, however, was a distinct Welch's Grape Juice vibe that was so incongruous that I had to revisit the wine three times to assure myself that I wasn't succumbing to some sun-induced hallucination. While I wouldn't call the wine fresh, it bore no sign of oxidation and was quite lively in the mouth with plenty of acidity. Turning my attention next to the Semillon, I was struck immediately by the incongruity of the nose. Smelling quite a bit like an aged Roussanne or Macabeo, it showed a little buttery, nutty character with licorice thrown in. In the mouth, it was slightly oxidative and still bracingly acidic. Both wines worked a treat with the clams and the delicious tacos.
With wines in hand, we proceeded to shoot the breeze for a few hours, talking about cars, guitars and teenage violence, with Eden regaling me with tales of touring with Blind Lemon Jefferson and Root Boy Slim and of working wine events in Greater SoCal (Who knew that the Governator was a Rotgipfler aficionado?!) As the afternoon wore on, the GV lost what fruit it had but the Semillon cruised on. Eventually, we packed it in, headed back to Chateau Mylunsch, where she cut me a CD, handed me a 1 L bottle of water and hustled me out the door so that she could prepare for the arrival of some Hollywood bigwigs later. With a hearty thanks to her for the generosity shown this itinerant winegeek, I drove off, accompanied only by the sun, slowly setting over the Pacific. In the harsh light of a new day, my hazy recollections seem more like a dream, but it all happened... didn't it?
Mark Lipton
