Separating Cost & Quality
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The problem with wine today is money. But it’s not, as you might be thinking, the nosebleed prices fetched by a variety of famous Bordeaux, Burgundy, and California cabernets. Those wines aren’t the problem at all.
Rather, the money problem afflicting wine today is that so many wines are astoundingly good, yet the price is disproportionately low for the quality. This begs credulity. How good can a wine be if it’s so cheap?
Winemakers are aware of this quandary, to their dismay and frustration. For example, back in the late 1990s, California winemaker Josh Jensen of Calera Wine Company became distressed that his pinot noirs did not seem to be taken as seriously as they once were.
Mr. Jensen had not raised his prices for most of his wines in years. He suspected a correlation between price and perception, and that people (including critics) didn’t think highly enough of his wines because they weren’t priced highly enough.
To confirm his suspicion, Mr. Jensen conducted an extensive blind tasting of his pinot noirs and chardonnays against the best of California and France — spending $25,000 in the process — and concluded that his quality wasn’t at fault. It was his pricing. So he subsequently nearly doubled his prices. What happened? Sales increased 10% the next year.
Price matters because few know about wine. But everybody is an expert about money. A $50 bottle is likely better than a $10 bottle. That’s usually true. But it’s also true — never more so than today — that many wines are vastly better than their (low) price suggests.
Chinon “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes” 2005, Domaine Jacky et Fabrice Gasnier — Usually the price appears at the end of these recommendations. But not this week. Cost? $16. By today’s wine standards, that’s bubkes. How good can it be? Try stunning.
The story here is one of unfashionableness. The Loire Valley isn’t Burgundy, and Chinon’s native grape, cabernet franc, isn’t pinot noir. Right there, prices get depressed due to the old supply and demand equation.
Many tasters — including professional critics who should know better — don’t like Loire Valley cabernet franc. They find it green and weedy. Sometimes it is, thanks to excessive yields and overly cool growing seasons. That’s not a problem with this beauty. The 2005 vintage in the Loire was about as perfect as it gets, with lavish but not oppressive warmth.
Fabrice Gasnier is a fourth-generation winegrower in his early 30s, whose family traditionally sold its wine to local shippers up until the mid-1990s. With 56 acres of vines in Chinon, nearly all of which are cabernet franc, the Gasnier family made a slow transition to estate bottling. That’s why this estate is still so little known.
This 2005 Chinon, designated “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes,” comes from 45-year-old vines, is 100% cabernet franc, does not have an apparent oakiness, and is simply superb. It’s a deeply colored, rich, intense red wine with superb acidity and lovely scents of licorice, plums, and spice. It’s swell drinking today, but will do nothing but improve for upward of a decade if stored in a cool space. $16 at Moore Brothers Wine Company, (33 E. 20th St. at Broadway, 212-375-1575).
Campofiorin 2004, Masi — We’ll start with cost again: How does $11.99 sound? How good can a wine be for that kind of money? The short answer is amazingly good. This Italian red is also distinctive and memorable, which is rare for inexpensive wines — and some expensive ones, too.
The story is that in the 1964 vintage, a producer of Valpolicella, Masi, revived an ancient technique of fortifying the flavors of a regular, already fully fermented Valpolicella wine by fermenting it yet again in barrels on the skins and sediment (also known as the lees) of the powerful Recioto della Valpolicella, made from highly concentrated semidried grapes of the exact same varieties (corvina Veronese, rondinella, and molinara, among others) used for regular Valpolicella.
The resulting wine emerges much darker and with a more powerful, even more pungent, flavor than a conventional Valpolicella. Masi called this practice ripasso, meaning “passed through again.” It was a sensation, creating a wholly new modern Valpolicella, which Masi brand-named Campofiorin. It has since been much copied by other producers in the zone.
Campofiorin 2004 is a powerfully flavorful yet elegant dry red wine meant for braised meats, game, strong cheeses, or just some roasted chestnuts. Its deep blackish hue would suggest a formidably tannic wine, but in fact it’s smooth and supple down the gullet and suffused with dried cherry, licorice, and plum tastes. $12.99 at Gotham Wines and Liquors (2517 Broadway at 94th Street, 212-932-0990), among other stores.