Andrzej Lipinski and The Next Level

Tawse Winery, armed with consecutive Canadian Winery of the Year awards, a state of the art facility, the mysterious allure of biodynamic farming and sales that might even make a Gallo blush (see what I did there?), has been dramatically serving notice of the arrival of Niagara into the world of fine wine. No less brash, and every bit as tasty, the Charles Baker's and Norman Hardie's have also been turning heads and palates. Yet without all those bells, whistles and loudspeakers (although shining off his own Ontario Winemaker of the Year Award) Andrzej Lipinski has quietly been making his own mark in the booming Niagara wine trade.

Having cut his teeth in such venerable estates as Vineland, DeSousa, Organized Crime and Foreign Affair, Andrzej presently calls Colaneri home, whilst moonlighting in Norfolk County in upstart Burning Kiln. He's revolutionized Ontario wine with his application of appassimento style (the use of dried grapes ala Amarone) in both red AND white varietals. Most respectable, he's positioned himself as somewhat of a winemaker of the people, having left the ultra premium price point of Foreign Affair to make the same quality of wine at a price more in line with the every man.



Today, he came by the lounge at ONE to showcase his new evolution. Not content to rest on the laurels of his present success, he now brings forth Big Head Wines. Not just winemaker, or consultant, Big Head is Andrzej as top of the food chain. His wines, his way. His pride in the product is unmistakable. He takes great joy in celebrating every last ounce of quality he pours into the bottle, right down to the corks.



"See these corks?" he absolutely beams while showing sommelier Curtis Elson and myself the enclosures that too many producers are merely an afterthought.



The wines deliver on his excitement.



We begin with the 2012 Chardonnay. The ripe fruit explodes from the glass, buoyed by significant oak and mallo that positions this blockbuster alongside the storied Chardonnays of California. Yet that tell-tale Niagara acid is not to be overshadowed, creating an elevation seldom seen in Chardonnay ANYWHERE. This is a true cellar candidate, as I can't wait to see how this one dances as the fruit begins to hit its Carlsberg years.



Next up is the Chenin Blanc, both from 2012 and 2011. While the 2012 vintage was for all intents and purposes the first for Big Head (and not a bad way to start, as most I have spoken with have called 2012 Niagara's best vintage EVER), one of his other enterprises backed out on the production of Chenin in 2011, leaving his farmer on the hook for a chunk of grapes. Instead of backing out on a trusted grower, he purchased the grapes for an initial vintage of Big Head. And while the 2012 has received higher accolades (a Platinum medal amongst them), its actually the 2011 that exudes a sensuality and texture that places it amongst the best Chenin Blancs I have ever tasted.



Next up is the Pinot Noir from 2012. I have never got the impression, in my 4 years of obsessing over Lipinksi wines, that Andrzej is as passionate about pinot as he is some of his other wines. Which is remarkable given the magic he has made with this grape. His Organized Crime pinots were absolutely game changing, and he has always imparted a decisive individuality on the "heartbreak grape". This one is no different. This might be his highest achievement to date with Pinot Noir. Absolutely swimming in the familiar sour cherry and root vegetable flavours pinot lovers bathe inside of, there is a striking acidity to the wine that carries everything to new heights. This is that elusive magic that grand cru Burgandies strive toward. We are not worthy.



Our tasting moves along to Syrah. I have never been convinced this is an ideal grape for Niagara, but the 2012 Big Head has me re-assessing my position. A powerful nose draws you in and the palate follows through. Perhaps all that is missing is that wildchild side of the grape that I so love (though for most tasters in the new world, this might be viewed as a plus).



We move along to a Cab Franc, Petit Verdot and Merlot blend he dubs Bigger Red. Its an uncommon blend that demonstrates a master of his craft. Chalky tannins, lush fruit and a subtle vegetal side come together to make a wine that is both gripping and approachable. Its the El Dorado of the red wine world. Character and friendliness in one seemingly effortless swoop. Bordeaux blends are a funny thing in Ontario. There are not alot of great ones. And those that are tend to be priced toward the Bay Street stratosphere. Yet here is something that under $50 a bottle would command twice that anywhere else in the province.



I have learned over the years that while making world class dry wines may be Andrzej's calling, he takes great pride in his sweet wines as well. The first, a Cabernet Franc Ice Wine, is typical of Niagara Icewine. Sweet and tasty, but one noted and flabby. I have never understood why Niagara spends so much time in the sticky mess of Icewine. But then we move on to his Vidal Icewine. This little magician just screams texture, layer upon layer of escalating flavour, which Andrzej insists is the result of the extremely tricky endeavour of using natural fermentation in icewine. Whatever the method, the delivery is unlike any I have had outside of Vin Santo and Sauternes.



The man has done it again. Big Head Wines is not merely a man cashing in on his rising star, rather a staggering elevation of his craft to a next level. I have been telling anyone who would listen for years that Niagara wines have arrived. Andrzej Lipinski has put a bold exclamation point to my notice.

Biff Tannen Says "Make Like a Tree and Get Lost"

One of my greatest pet peeves in wine service relates to the discussion of tannins. Described by Wine Bible author Karen MacNeil as "the most intellectually intruiging" aspect of wine, tannins are more simply put the most confounding concept for the untrained palate. While they are often mistaken for acid in a wine, they are another portion of the flavour profile altogether. The best analogy for strong tannins, is over-steeped tea, and they are most notable in producing that same puckering sensation on your gums. They are an important aspect of the tasting experience, as strong tannins can dominate a wine, soft ones can underscore a beautiful tasting experience, and they have a direct say in why most red wines make seafood taste metallic. In spite of the seemingly abstract nature of tannins to the new wine drinker, for the professional, they are of critical importance to understanding balance in wine.



I cannot count the amount of times that sommeliers, when summoned to a table, make a point to describe the tannins of a wine being inquired about. I cringe, each time, in equal measure to every attempt Biff Tannen makes at a clever quip in the Back To The Future trilogy.



While I am certain that describing such high minded concepts to a table pads these "stewards" ego to no end, the fact remains that the large majority of people they describe them to have no idea what they are talking about. New wine drinkers describe intimidation as the biggest obstacle in their pursuit of learning more about wine. The reality is that most people who request a sommelier, do so because they are amongst this intimidated majority. Those who feel that they are masters of the tannin universe are alot less likely to lean on the advice of others, preferring to go full on peacock mode in front of their dates, associates and friends by simply choosing the wine for the table. That leaves those poor insecure newbies at the mercy of wine snobs who feel expressing their own awesomeness is somehow more important to the dining experience than the comfort of the guests.



And you thought Biff Tannen was a bully...



Sommeliers train very hard to provide a service to the guests. I just wish more of my peers remembered that service and alienation pair worse than Barolo and Mahi Mahi.

Leaders and Followers (or how Macallan changed the game)

Growing up in Ontario's agriculture belt, I grew up to fascinating display of supply and demand in the most grassroots fashion. There is without a doubt, 2 types of farmers in the influx world of agriculture. Leaders and followers. While I was too-smart-for-his-own-good slacker teen drinking up the lyrical insight of Bad Religion's anthem of the same title, a game of leaders and followers was afoot in the field many of my friends were busy toiling in, to the ends of saving up tuition for their upcoming journey's into higher learning. Tobacco was king in Norfolk County for as long as I could remember. Delhi was home to the Tobacco Museum. Working harvest was a right of passage for high school kids looking to sock away some cash for the years to come. You weren't a kid from the County if you didn't know what a boat driver was (note: had NOTHING to do with ANYTHING associated with the water of nearby Lake Erie).



Yet nearly a decade before the political tides were to win the war against Big Tobacco, complete with indoor smoking bans, full censorship of tobacco advertising and mandatory grotesque labelling mandates from the feds, a small group of Norfolk farmers were onto something much bigger. Ginseng.



Long before tobacco was a dirty word, and before anyone knew what Gingko Biloba was, a handful of families uprooted their entire tobacco fields and planted Ginseng in every acre they could find. Almost overnight, tobacco fields were replaced with a rotating set of ginseng enclosures that were more like trampolines than farmers fields. In truth, "tramping" was more a rural Ontario reality than "cow-tipping" ever was. My dorm roommate, Brent Mels, was amongst these families who got in on Ginseng's ground floor. He once mused that at its height, Ginseng would earn up to 1000% more per acre than the tobacco plants they had uprooted.



By the time the rest of the world caught on, the followers were hurrying to plant ginseng. Meanwhile, the glut of new supply was catching up with the demand, burying the price of this suddenly sacred calf, and the leaders simply stood back and bought out farm after farm that failed once ginseng had bottomed out.



These days similar battles are played out, as Norfolk's agricultural set chase the new leaders, ahead of the curve planting Vitus Vinafera grapes or cultivating the palates of hippie friendly organic fanatics.



A similar game is afoot in the world of whiskey, as I discovered this past week at Spirit Confidential, a sprawling display of the finest brands in the Beam Global portfolio at the Evergreen Brickworks. Macallan, THE icon of scotch whiskey had unveiled their new 1824 line. While new lines of product are an every day kind of thing, this was no mere debut of some small batch offerings, but in the words of Scotch Ambassador Marc Laverdiere, "a complete paradigm shift." Macallan's new whiskeys will not compliment the familiar faces of 12, 18 and the lot, rather will be replacing them altogether. Taking a page from their American counterparts in bourbon country, Macallan will no longer be age designating their scotch.



Its the boldest of moves from such an iconic brand, already in the pole position in their market. Macallan 12 and 18 particular, have been amongst the most cherished brands in all of the world of whiskey. Tossing aside such established brand loyalty and guaranteed market share is wholly unheard of. Imagine Grey Goose abandoning their flagship vodka to dedicate themselves entirely to new , flavored styles.

Officially this shift is Macallan's response to the surging worldwide whiskey demand. Demand is rapidly outpacing many distiller's abilities to properly age their whiskeys. As age designation requires the listing of the youngest whiskey in the blend, its a much more tactful way to deal with this problem than the initial response of Maker's Mark, who were on the verge of lowering the proof of their own iconic brand (that is until public outcry instigated an almost overnight reversal of the new policy, with Maker's drafting an open letter to their fans, promising to maintain their original recipe in the face of eventual shortages over the years to come until their new distillery comes into full production). BY dispensing with the age designation, they are free to blend some younger whiskey into the mix, stretching their capacity without, in theory straying too far from the expected final product.



Having talked to a few whiskey insiders however, there seems to be more to this than mere optics in dealing with supply shortages.

First age designation itself is a bit of an outdated concept for whiskey purists. One has only to look as far as the explosion of Bourbon and Irish whiskies in the glasses of the new generation of discerning whiskey drinkers. Many of the most coveted and well crafted of worldwide whiskey thrives without the shackles of age designation. While the old school buyers continue to shell top dollar for the oldest of whiskey, the future of the market seems more concerned with the quality in the spirit rather than its age.



Second age designation leads to alot of confusion about what are the best whiskies available to the market. A recent conversation with Ruaraidh MacIntyre, brand ambassador for Islay giants Ardbeg revealed that next to people mispronunciating the brand ("its NOT ARBERG"), his biggest challenge in educating consumers about his brand was that older does not equate to better. Ardbeg in particular has a style that expresses itself best between the ages of 10-12 years old. Yet so deeply rooted is the concept of age superiority, that it has been problematic to explain to the public, their best whiskies are not their oldest.



Finally, while there is undoubtedly a worldwide surge in demand for whiskey, as pretty much all segments outside of vodka are enjoying a little game of Pacman against vodka's untouchable marketshare, SCOTCH sales specifically have not seen that same surge. Sales are higher, but nowhere near as astronomical the ascendancy of their peers in whiskey. IT takes an astute assessment of a marketplace to realize that in the face of success, there are cracks in the foundation. For the leader in scotch whiskey, there may be no better time to change the game in the most fundamental of ways.

It was only a short time ago when Courvoissier CHASED that age designation success story with their "21" label. A fantastic cognac, yet the followers seemed unable to capture the imagination of the marketplace in the way a leader could. Like some sharp forward thinking tobacco farmers in a couple of decades back, Macallan might just have the recipe to flourish for the next generation.



As to the whiskies themselves, my tasting leads me to believe that the product will not disappoint The Gold, Amber and Sienna labels all come in pricepoint at the Macallan 10 and 12 range, and offer 3 unique expressions. Indeed there is a good opportunity for fans of Macallan 12 to discover a preferred product, at a better price than they were used to paying. For the fans of Macallan 18, Ruby comes in to that pricepoint and is an absolutely astounding tasting experience. It requires almost immediately a fireplace, a Captain's chair furnished from the hide of some exotic animal on the brink of extinction, and glassware costing in the neighborhood of what most of us spend on a motor vehicle. And the $1000 a bottle set can rest at ease, as Macallan will continue to issue the familiar friends of 25 and 30 to those clinging to the world which they conquered.

My feeling is that this is brilliant. Its a turning point orchestrated by the greatest minds and palates in whiskey. It may not come without a bump in the road, but Scotch is now speaking the language of the next generation of whiskey lover. Farmers in Norfolk once spoke the language of kilns and leaves, and now the distillery rats in Scotland are talking Snow Phoenix and Ruby. Leaders and Followers. Greg Graffin speaks the truth.