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Another summer is quickly coming to an end, and I hope everyone got a chance to visit their favorite local vineyard for a tour or a wine tasting. The highlight of my summer is always being able to visit the northern Michigan wineries. This summer, I got a chance to go up to the Leelanau Peninsula several times, and each time was memorable.
Leelanau Cellars is, by far, my favorite place to visit up north, especially because of the tasting experience. You don’t feel limited of how many wines you can taste, and the staff working the tasting room are VERY knowledgeable and friendly. I left with about 16 bottles of wine the last time I visited! If you are looking for some odd fruit wines, this is the place to go.
The wine: I shared a bottle with my new roommates in Grand Rapids. All three of us loved it.
Matt: “Delicious with chips and dip” Casey: “It would be a good winter wine. Surprisingly smooth!”
I enjoyed this 5 dollar bottle of wine with a thin-crust pizza and it was great. The wine was rich, and had a lot of flavor. I could taste the typical hints of cherry that most Michigan wines boast.
Summary: Great job, Leelanau Cellars! I look forward to coming back next year! Rating: 9/10 - Excellent! Price: 5 bucks Winery Information: Leelanau Cellars Leelanau Wine Cellars 12683 E. Tatch Rd (County Rd. 626) Omena, MI 49674 (231) 386-5201
This wine is wild and untamed! It has an exotic taste of berries and herbs, and is still quite tannic. After decanting, the wine softened a bit but continued to be chewy and dense. It also has a striking dark purple color, that looked beautiful in the decanter.
From a tiny region in Southern France, Bandol is made primarily from Mourvedre. The grapes are extremely ripe, but there's an underlying herbal tone that makes some of these wine taste almost wild and this is no exception.
I paid $32 for the bottle, and have seen it for as much as $40. If you're ready to do some exploring in France's lesser-known regions, look for a Bandol. And raise a glass!
Over two million Canadians have diabetes. For thirty-two years I?ve been a card-carrying member of the no-sugar-tonight club. The thing that always surprises people when they find out I?m diabetic is the significant part that food and wine play in...
Greetings from Asia. I have begun my first tour of duty here in the Pacific Rim, and I started my trip off with a weekend in Shanghai. The fourteen plus hour flight did not seem so bad since I was able to sleep for close to nine hours of it; of course, that was only [...]
We're speeding up the narrow two-lane road to Montalcino in Yoshi's somewhat dilapidated Datsun. After a great weekend in Siena, where I experienced a mild art glut, I was anticipating a few days in a quieter setting. Luckily I had met Yoshi four years ago during language school in Italy. After I went home, he kept hanging out and never went back to Japan. Being a confessed Italophile and vinophile, he studied Italian wine and ended up as the head wine guy at Banfi Castle in Montalcino. Now Yoshi lives and "works" in an Italian castle drinking some of Italy's most celebrated wine. Tough.
Luckily I don't suffer from nausea, so the semi-suicidal 2,000-foot climb to Montalcino rewards me with stunning views of Tuscany's grandeur. "That's where I live," Yoshi mentions casually with just a hint of pride. I follow his gaze up the mountain to the rustic hamlet now barely visible behind its wall. A few church towers rise above the crowded maze of tenant buildings. A woman opens the red shutters of her rustic apartment. March in Montalcino is a long, lingering month. With that in mind, I feel the urge to kill Yoshi and steal his job and life when I'm suddenly quelled by some amalgamate image from childhood: the Italian equivalent of Julie Andrews running down a green, mountain pasture, arms aflight, Ave Maria wafting in the background. I relax and enjoy the scenery with only mild pangs of jealousy.
We're in southern Tuscany -- the place Adam and Eve had to leave after Eve bit into that ripe sangiovese grape. Here, there's no shortage of excruciatingly quaint hilltop towns; no problem making you feel like writing home to say, "Sell everything. Never returning." Southern Tuscany is wine country, is Italy, is civilization at its very best. And if southern Tuscany is all that, Montalcino (Moan-tall-chino) is the capital in my eyes -- what most Americans must envision when they think of Italy. Picture the medieval burg clinging to its pinnacle, the serpentine cobblestone streets and squat grandmothers who negotiate them. Churchbells can be heard from anywhere in the city. Good wine is a given. Here, the pace is slower, the olive oil greener, and the entire town seems to reek of the perfection of daily life.
"There's not much to do in Montalcino," Yoshi says. But he says it in such a way that leaves me thinking "nothing to do" in Montalcino is most definitely a good thing. Here, hours are stretched free of charge. Wineglasses swell with content, and like the mythic Hydra, dishes of savory pasta seem to regenerate threefold every bite you take. There are no teenybopper discotheques, no cheesy trinket venders peddling their weary wares on the streets. Not even the Let's Go and Rick Steves backpacker hordes find their way up the mountain (often), as it's a bit difficult to reach. No train braves the perilous climb up to Montalcino's summit. Without a car, you're better off taking the one-hour bus ride from Siena.
Once at Montalcino, you're greeted by a perfectly preserved medieval hamlet. Start with a walk to the far end of the city where the fortress, or Rocca, lies. Familiarize yourself with the one main street. This requires little effort and will also let you kick off your stay in Montalcino at its Rocca. Walk the grounds, take a stroll along the catwalks, or cruise inside the turrets. And though the views from just about anywhere in Montalcino are truly inspiring, those from atop the Rocca feel somehow even more regal. Plan secret attacks on neighboring villages, wax philosophic, or just suck in the mountain air.
Although constructed in the 14th century, the Rocca has been "modernized" inside with the addition of its own wine bar, or enoteca -- arguably the first Italian term you should memorize. These blessed creatures, these enoteche, curiously absent (or at least endangered in America) thrive in Montalcino. And enoteche make me very happy. This particular one allows you to sample not only some of Italy's finest wines ($1.50 to $5 a glass) but also local meats and cheeses, like the indigenous wild boar sausage and the smooth Pecorino cheese.
Someone dead and famous once said, "To truly appreciate someplace, go there poor." That sums up my travel philosophy as much in principle as out of necessity. And while northern Italy is no budget traveler's dream, we will endure. Believe me, you'll feel better spending money on a truly memorable Tuscan experience -- like a few glasses of wine in the Rocca -- than you will getting your caricature taken outside the Duomo in Florence for triple the price.
If you're looking for something a little less, well, fortress-like and expensive, check out Enoteca Franci, one of Yoshi's hangouts. You'll find it in the main piazza to the side of the clock tower on Via Mazzini. Enoteca Franci is the Cheers of the city, attracting every living inhabitant in Montalcino, young and old, hip and otherwise. During sunny days, get a bottle of great Montalcino wine, sip a cappuccino or snack on some rustic salami and Parmigiano cheese. At night, the atmosphere is right out of a Hemingway novel: red vinyl benches; mirrors; chandeliers; and a dark, cavernous back room full of wines to choose from or to ogle, or both. Sound expensive and chic? Nah. Plus you get the whole "ex-patriot, grainy black-and-white" feeling to boot.
And there's plenty of great wine to go around. First and foremost, the top wine, the black rooster of the town: Brunello di Montalcino. Actually, its reputation doesn't just apply to Montalcino, Tuscany or even Italy. In the world of wine, Brunello is a big boy. A strain of the more familiar sangiovese grape of Chianti, Brunello (so named because of its brownish hue) is responsible for Italy's finest red wine alongside Barolo. With a minimum aging of four years -- six months of which must be in bottle -- Brunello is a dark, dry, potent wine that goes with anything it wants. For that reason, it's, well, a bit expensive. A bottle will start around $20 and run as far as your credit card can. And further. And faster. Keep in mind, though, that the same wine in America -- provided you can even find it -- costs much more. From the little investigating I've done, you're looking at around a $10 to $15 price hike in America on Brunello. In addition, you have the usually insane "dock fees" or whatever American restaurants call their premiums. Translation: if you feel like doing it up in Montalcino, Brunello is the one.
But I have good news for those who don't want to mortgage their mothers for wine: Rosso di Montalcino. This wine is made from the same sangiovese strain. In many respects, it's the same wine, the only difference is the aging time and price tag. And sure, I could probably tell the difference between Brunello and Rosso. But I can also tell the difference between a Mercedes and a Honda. And which is better for the money? Rosso starts at $5 and runs to about $10 for the top producers. Don't sweat these big names, though. Every bottle I had was a lesson in how to enjoy life. And if you're not a total wine geek, Rosso, in most cases, is a much better choice than the far pricier Brunello.
The more established wineries in Montalcino excel in most all the varietals, though. Apart from the slew of red wines, you can peruse anything in white from sauvignon blanc to the syrupy sweet moscato. In short, Montalcino is a wine town. You merely need to visit Enoteca Franci or any one of the some thirty million bars or enoteche (or so it seems, as potential wine pit stops appear with blissful regularity). And when drinking wine in Montalcino remember: being snobbish with wine doesn't come naturally to Italians. Wine is their mass consumption, normal beverage which, for most Italians, still comes in a water glass. As such, wine drinking seems a touch more genuine, more enjoyable. No pedantic rigamarole, just good wine and, of greater importance, kind, witty people.
If you're itching to taste the proverbial "fruit of the vine" and want to experience what really put Montalcino on the map, go to the tourist office and get a bus schedule for the wineries themselves. They're located outside the city, it takes a vehicle, a Japanese friend with a vehicle, a bus, a taxi or a long thumb to get there. For a taste of the original Brunello, head toward Biondi Santi. Clemente Santi was responsible for isolating the Brunello strain of the sangiovese grape in the last century. Since then, Biondi Santi has claimed awards around the world for its Brunello. Good for them. Also good for us -- if we want to spend around $40 a bottle. Prices and standards are high. However, if you're a Brunello freak, or plan on becoming one, this wine is a "must taste;" and the winery, a connoisseur's "must see."
I also highly recommend Banfi: one of the most established yet progressive wineries in Montalcino. You can enjoy the views from the tasting room, the Banfi Villa, the Banfi Castle and, most importantly, slurp some vino with Yoshi. (Tell him I sent you. Heck, it might be good for some perks.) You can even eat at the winery, if you want to drop some major cash and really impress your significant other. However, any type of winery experience is possible. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers, to old school brothers with unpronounceable names.
Just about any type of winery experience is possible, though. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers to old-school brothers with unpronounceable names. The smaller estate of Campogiovanni, for example, doesn't have the esteemed reputation and, therefore, must make quality wine at the lowest cost possible. Although owned by the larger San Felice, Campogiovanni is fighting to make a name for itself in the highly traditional ground of Montalcino And in this category, there's a plethora of great wineries ready to sell you on wine before non-existent, or at best, respectively small, reputations. Apart from Campogiovanni, definitely try Marchesato degli Aleramici, Col d'Orcia, Castelgiocondo, Mastroianni and la Poderina. Brunello from these producers usually runs in the $18 to $30 range; Rosso from $6 to $10. Though their wines are easy to acquire, information on most of these wineries is scarce. Check with the tourist office, or call directly upon arriving.
"But we must eat," you say. "We can't live on wine alone." Sadly, this is true. Have no fear, though. If the Montalcinese know anything beside wine, they know food. And the question is not where or what to eat, but how to sample everything without breaking your budget or your new Italian leather belt. Yoshi and I checked out his favorite place, Osteria di Porta al Cassero. From the street it may not seem like much. The actual surroundings are quite simple and unpretentious -- my favorite style. But the smell alone is enough to merit a try. I almost floated in on a wave of heavenly aromas a la Tom and Jerry. Definitely try anything with wild boar, usually prepared as a stew or ragł. And if tripe is your game, it's also the specialty. Yoshi partook. I did not. If you're like me, check out Pici -- thick, worm-like spaghetti -- or Pappardelle -- big ribbons. Both are traditionally served with one of many rustic treats from meat lover's heaven and come almost attached to a bottle of Montalcino vino.
For espresso, cappuccino and every derivative thereof, stop by Bar Mariuccia, sort of across from Enoteca Franci. I never asked, but the elderly couple who slings the java must be the Mariuccias. A real mom-and-pop operation complete with sweets from another Mariuccia who runs a pastry shop and rents rooms down the road. Stunning views of the countryside await in the backroom of the bar. There is no charge to sit down or be waited on as there is in the bars of some of the more touristy hilltop towns.
Now you're beat. You pounded out the last drop of your Brunello and went for the after-dinner grappa. Feeling oh so Italian, you even stopped for the late-night espresso. Where to stay? Hotels are scarce and expensive, but fortunately rooms abound. While taking your non-goal-oriented strolls, you probably saw signs here and there saying: "camere/zimmer/rooms." These could be anything from private rooms inside family houses to quasi-condos.
The best I found was a place called Il Moro. Also located on Via Mazzini but away from the main piazza, Il Moro is attached to the trattoria of the same name. There are four double rooms, beautifully refinished with wooden interiors, superb views and a combined kitchen/dining room/sitting room downstairs. I was there in March, and my girlfriend and I had the whole swanky place to ourselves. A room will run you about $40 a night, but it increases to $60 from Easter to the festival month of June. Well worth it, even if you have to bend, twist or otherwise alter your budget. If Il Moro doesn't turn your crank, check with the Mariuccia family or the tourist office by the main piazza for listings. Otherwise, take another leisurely stroll around the city inquiring about prices when you see the sign "camere/zimmer/rooms." Nothing could give you a better feel for Montalcino and its inhabitants.
More rustic getaways are also possible. If you're bent on getting away from everything, try an agriturismo: usually a rural hotelesque setting on the road less traveled. Being that Montalcino is already a tad "out there," agriturismo offers you the possibility of stretching your days even further. For a really different take, try Abbadia Ardenga. This ex-abbey now rents entire apartments at reasonable prices (starts at about $20 per person per day). This is particularly worthwhile for larger groups. A minimum stay of three days is required.
If Il Moro and the rustic hideaways don't turn your crank, there are, of course, the star clustered hotels. Montalcino's best -- Hotel Bellaria and Albergo Ristorante Il Giglio -- boast three stars and have all the amenities. Get the full treatment and opt for "full pension" -- two square meals along with the room, all at the same place for around $85 per person.
If you go for a posh pad, save money on eats by grabbing some sausage, cheese, good Tuscan bread and wine from the COOP supermarket. Have a picnic on the church lawn at the opposite end of the town from the Rocca. And don't worry if you find yourself becoming more Montalcinese than you thought possible: hanging out in bars when you're not thirsty, chatting with locals when you don't speak Italian. I was even eyeing Yoshi's overtly Italian shoes and coat thinking, "those are pretty sharp." Just enjoy these metabolic changes -- what I group collectively as "The Montalcino Syndrome" -- while they last.
Keeping a wine bottle sealed is probably the most important factor when it comes to maintaining a good wine.
A cork is essential, as it keeps oxygen out of the wine bottle. If a bottle of wine is not airtight then it may become oxidized and undrinkable
Traditionally, the only corks worth considering were those actually made of cork. Recently, however, many wine experts have recognized that cork may actually cause more problems than it solves.
Cork, due to its malleable nature may have imperfections; these can result in the seal of the bottle not being as airtight as it could be and the wine being spoilt. In an attempt to avoid this problem, modern cork manufacturers may treat the cork with a chemical called TVA. Unfortunately, this chemical can cause the wine to taste and smell a little damp and musty.
Having said this, cork is able to expand to fully fill the neck of the bottle, which therefore, still makes it the preferred option for special wines that need to be stored, over a long period of time.
Plastic corks are becoming increasing popular, of late. One of the main problems associated with traditional corks is that the wine becomes 'corked'. Plastic corks prevent this occurring. Great! I hear you say. However, there can be minor irritations with plastic corks. A plastic cork can sometimes be difficult to extract from the bottle and virtually impossible to fit back into a half drunk bottle.
Another recent development is the widespread use of screw-top bottles. Until recently, this type of seal was used for only the cheapest of wines. Wine producers across the globe are now recognizing the benefits that screw tops provide. This type of seal ensures that wine is kept fresh; there is no chance of the wine becoming 'corked' and the bottle can be easily resealed. In reality, the only reason that screw tops are not more popular is because of the ingrained snobbery associated with this method of sealing a bottle.
No matter which type of cork you choose, it is important that you are able to recognize whether the wine has been properly sealed or not. A useful test is to see whether the top of the cork is level with the top of the bottle; if it isn't, then that particular bottle of wine is probably best avoided.
If a traditional cork breaks when you are removing it - don't panic! Use a corkscrew to attempt to 'dig out' the remaining cork. If this fails, simply push the remains of the cork down into the bottle. Contrary to popular belief, this will not destroy the wine's flavor. You may have to fish out a few bits of cork, but the taste of the wine should remain unaffected. However, you'd be wise to finish the whole bottle, under these circumstances!
When choosing your wine, base your decision on the wine itself and not the type of cork. Resist the temptation to be a cork snob; a screw top bottle may just give you a pleasant surprise
About the author: Ever since Neil Best first pondered the question, Who made the first wine anyway? he's been recording his findings at Good Glug. Find about your favorite wine regions, wine recipes, and speciality wines along with how it's made and how best to store it for maximum enjoyment
Upgraded to 96-100 points Parker: "This offering has been controversial as its price increase ranged between 300-400%, but this is a great terroir, and since the remarkable winemaking team of Nicolas Thienpont and Stephane Derenoncourt took over in 2002, Larcis Ducasse is finally showing its true colors. Located near Pavie, it possesses undeniable potential as demonstrated by the profound 2005. A 3,000-case blend of 78% Merlot, 20% Cabernet Franc, and 2% Cabernet Sauvignon fashioned from yields of 27 hectoliters per hectare, it underwent all of the standard garagiste winemaking techniques. It is not surprising that just about all the famous estates in this neighborhood on the Cote Pavie, including Pavie and Troplong-Mondot, did unbelievably well in 2005. A dark, dense purple color is followed by an extraordinary perfume of roasted herbs, espresso, tapenade, creme de cassis, and sweet kirsch. It is a wine of sheer opulence, extravagant richness, sweet tannin, and an amazingly layered texture as well as length. A blockbuster with superb elegance, finesse, and precision, it represents an exceptional achievement. Kudos to everyone involved for turning out this modern day legend. Anticipated maturity: 2011-2030."
Torbreck’s top shiraz – the Run Rig Shiraz, priced at well over $200 per bottle – is probably Australia ’s most hedonistic wine. It leaps out of the bottle like a rattlesnake, all fanfare and bite. It is, always, dangerously drinkable. It is thick with flavour and accented by sweetness, its spicy, gravelly, smoky complexity ramping its class through the roof. There’s always been a question mark though: this tastes so bloody good the day it is released – what happens if you stick it in the cellar? Is it Australia ’s best early-drinking wine, or will it develop and evolve if given time? A tasting in the Barossa Valley recently of every vintage yet made of Torbreck Run Rig Shiraz (including the just-released 2005) threw a crust of clear answers.
Robert Parker goes to China. It doesn’t quite have the same geopolitical impact as Nixon goes to China, but the magnitude for the wine world may be similar as Parker heads there later this month for the first time. Jancis Robinson stopped by earlier this year too. And two big auction houses have resumed wine auctions in Hong Kong this spring after a seven year drought. The removal of the wine tax in Hong Kong has driven a “thirst for top-level wines” in the city “is growing at an exponential rate,” according an auctioneer quoted in Bloomberg.
But now I am wondering if the locals are waking up to the joys of pairing Riesling with the cuisine. And the quality of German Riesling just keeps getting better and better. Perhaps they now have confidence to venture away from Bordeaux and cult Cali cabs.
Actually, since I am really getting into the sublime pleasure of German Riesling, dry and off-dry, young and mature, the thought of demand from Asia is something of a doomsday scenario for me. The last thing I need is to have investors pile in and run up the price in yet another category of wine!
May 31 - June 1, 2008 Stevensville, Maryland Can you think of anything more fun and enjoyable than spending a beautiful sunny day on the sandy shores of the Chesapeake Bay sipping wine? We can't either, so plan to join us at the Inaugural Chesapeake Bay Wine Festival which will be held at Terrapin Nature Park, Stevensville.
This is the weekend following Memorial Day and it should be the perfect weather for enjoing amazing wines from all over the state of Maryland..
The event will feature wines from 14 Maryland Wineries, as well as local cuisine, juried arts & fine crafts and live entertainment.
Tickets $17 per ticket in advance $20 per ticket at the door Must present ID to enter
Designated Drivers and Ages 13-20: $10 per ticket in advance $10 per ticket at the door
Group Rates: $15 per ticket for groups of ten or more (advance only)
"...one step remained. One step! One little, little step! Upon one such little step in the great staircase of human life how vast a sum of human happiness or misery depends! I thought of myself, then of Pompey, and then of the mysterious and inexplicable destiny which surrounded us... I thought of my many false steps which have been taken and may be taken again."? Poe
Got time for a little navel gazing? 'Cause that?s where I'm going with this one.
25 years of carrying the torch for the Italian team. I feel like someone just pushed me in the ditch.
There are all kinds of wines for different tastes. I understand that. But I cannot tell how many times I have heard this line lately, and not just from Italians: ?We have embraced tradition with innovation.? Or this one: ?We are a traditional winery looking forward into the 21st century.? And this one: ?We are an old style winery utilizing technology to improve what we have learned from the past.? None of these statements makes any sense.
Add to that the looming issue with Italian wines: Who can you trust?
When was the last time I had a Greco or a Fiano that really tasted like one? How many Verona IGT reds lately have I had that tasted more like a wine from the Maremma or Rutherford, than Valpolicella? When was the last time I had a Chianti that reflected the intentions of the land over the man? When did Mother Nature become la goomada? When did nurture become suffocate?
Did those starry-eyed post war kids with hopes and dreams become comfortable as they passed the keys to their Gucci-loafing children?
Well maybe not everyone, but the pendulum has swung out there. Way out. It cannot remain in an extreme position. It cannot be sustained. There is the issue of gravity. And balance.
This whirlwind in Tuscany is finally reaching the shores of America. Already in New York and out West there is rumbling. Pushback. Wayback. The midsection of the US has been rabbit punched for eight grueling years and we need a moment. To pay our bills, to recalibrate. To gather some hope for ourselves.
April was the first month I have witnessed where I?ve seen downward trends in Italian wine sales. Things are slowing down. It?s not a sky-is-falling spiral, but it?s a gut check for anyone who is looking at the numbers.
Let?s talk about wine. I was with a young one who lived in Southern Italy for four years and just returned home to Texas. We were tasting wine and she remarked about a winery in Campania, ?I don?t remember their white wine tasting so buttery and smooth and international.? I hadn?t thought about it, I was too busy plowing on through the year, when out of the mouth of babes came a truth. She was right. Last week, in New York, I was having dinner with an old friend and we were talking about the very same thing. ?Yeah, I talked to one of the owners and asked him how it was going. Do you know what his answer was? Our wines are very popular. Not, our wines are a reflection of our land. But, our wines are appealing.? Oh really?
I have tasted Montepulcianos from Abruzzo recently. Seems like a lot of people want to bring their wines to market. I have a long experience with Montepulciano and remember those brawny, sweaty, nutty, reds that when you tasted it knew it was from the hills above you. Now, many of them taste like they came off an assembly line.
I was in Italy last month, tasting Barolo and Barbaresco. For what seem like hundreds of years now I have tasted Nebbiolo, what a rollercoaster ride! Sometimes the wines are a reflection of where they come from, in that unique way a wine is when it only has one area where it is comfortable growing. And then sometimes it seems like we are dealing with a perfume manufacturing mentality; crank out another flavor, give us something sexy for the camera, can you show us some skin? More toast. More velvet, more color, more money, more stuff. Less substance.
Who can you turn to? What can you trust in?
Salespeople rattle about this wine and that wine like it is the latest laundry detergent or smart phone. What happened to the old gang who loved the camaraderie and the product? Sure there might be an incentive here or there, but what about the thrill of the game, not the urgent flavor of the moment? What about the soil? The vine? The grape?
These wines are now like trophies, everything is a treasure, without the hunt. We want a pretty wife; we get the doctor to make her prettier. We want to be cool, we get a fast car. We want to sell, we quote a score.
What about all those Italians in our veins and our DNA, looking out from generations past, what would they think of this moment?
I think we are at a crossroads and it is a crucial time for the wines of Italy and her relationship to the American market. Where's a good place to start? How about less marketing pesticide ? more plowing in the trenches of the heart.
There have been missteps. I hope for steps out of the darkness towards a future that swings back to authenticity and integrity.
Years ago I used to make a lot of homemade bread. During high school and for a few years afterwards, I made all kinds of loaves: traditional baguettes, artisan European breads, sourdough, crazy experimental loaves, gargantuan Russian bread cooked in a full 5 qt. Dutch oven, and whatever else struck my fancy. It wasn't uncommon for me to keep half a dozen different flours on hand at any given time. At some point I moved on to other things, and great local bakeries have filled the need for the odder kinds of bread.
A brief mention of Mario Batali's Otto mentioned a pizza technique I'd been wanting to try. His restaurant starts pizza on a griddle and finishes it in the oven. I've read of similar ideas using a cast-iron skillet, and that's what I tried.
Making the dough was easy even though it had been forever. Recipe? We don't need no stinkin' recipe! Flour, water, salt, yeast, a dash of sugar. Allowed to rise twice, etc. While the dough was doing its thing I took some Muir Glen canned tomatoes, spiced them up a bit and reduced it all down for the sauce. The cooking method requires a bit more detail. (I've got an electric oven, so with gas this will be a bit different.)
I moved a rack of the oven to the top position and turned the broiler on, leaving the door shut. The big cast iron skillet was allowed to heat on medium high until all the metal was hot. I formed the crust into a rough disc as thin as possible (about 1/8" thick on my example but with more refined dough you can go even thinner--just cook it less). Lay out your mise en place, making sure to have everything ready. Put the pets in another room, turn off the smoke alarm, and prepare to sweat.
I spooned a bit of the homemade sauce on the dough, just enough to get the flavor and some nice chunks of tomato. Too much will make it soggy. I topped it with cut fresh mozzarella balls and a little Sriracha sauce. Dash of sea salt and pepper. I scattered a little cornmeal in the cast iron skillet and immediately slid the pizza into the skillet. Just a couple of minutes until the bottom is crispy and is flecked with a few black marks. Before the bottom burns, slide it out of the skillet (don't burn yourself) onto a plate or pizza peel. Then slide it directly onto the rack of the oven directly under the broiler. Cook until desired level of bubbling/browning/etc. For me it only took another couple of minutes.
While prep and everything took a while, the actual cooking time on the pictured pizza was less than five minutes. Five hot and busy minutes, but quick nonetheless. I threw some fresh basil and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano on top and enjoyed it mere seconds after this photo was taken. Great pizza. Light and crispy, full-flavored, and the crust had those little charred spots that do wonders for the taste.
I will warn you that the potential for screwing this up is great. Don't take your eyes off the pie at any stage of the process and be prepared for some smoke. But if you're willing to bear the heat as temperatures rise here in the South, then go for it.
Just in case? you were wondering; Matt Kramer (winespectator.com) writes:
You've probably been in this situation yourself. You're the one choosing the wines for a dinner with friends. You look at the menu and perform the usual mental matchups about what goes with what. But then, much more subtly?even furtively?you also do a mental matchup about which wines go with, ahem, the guests.
If you're a lover of Italian wines, especially traditional-style? versions, you might find yourself in this situation more often than most.
This subject is not much discussed because it makes you feel like, sound like, or realize that you actually are, a snob. Nevertheless, most people who know their way around wine pay as much attention to the "who's drinking" as to the "which dish."
This lesson is often first (painfully) learned at the family Thanksgiving table. You trot out some of the treasures you've been hoarding for that special moment. Big? mistake. Emergency wards are filled with wine lovers traumatized by watching guests guzzle their prized bottles like elephants at a watering hole.
I thought about this when deciding recently which wines to bring to a high-end Italian restaurant. A good host, by definition, wants his or her guests to feel comfortable. Our guests were, thankfully, wine lovers. However, that's not the same as wine savvy. No crime there, of course. But when the time came to reach for Barolo or even Barbera, my hand hovered over those bottles and then, Ouija board-like, moved to red Burgundy and California Pinot Noir.
Now, maybe it was timidity on my part. Perhaps I've lost my belief in the redemptive, even transformative, power of fine wine?never mind the grape variety? or region?. Surely a traditional Barolo can move not merely the uninitiated but even the unreceptive, especially when served with the right food.
I used to think so. Ask any of my long-suffering friends who have been subjected to my evangelical enthusiasm for, say, Gattinara. Or Recioto? della Valpolicella. Or more bizarrely yet, the caramel-colored, sediment?-rich delights of Italy's new-wave/old-way whites, fermented with skin contact?, from Radikon, Massa Vecchia, Castello? di Lispida or Josko Gravner, among others.
But now I find myself hesitating. I've come to the conclusion that really characterful wines?none more so than traditionally made Italian wines?often require a certain receptivity, maybe even a little study. That you can't just spring upon an unsuspecting, not-especially-interested-in-Italian-wines guest the magnificently traditional likes of, say, Giuseppe Rinaldi Barolo or even the easier to understand but still true-to-its-old-school Brunello di Montalcino from Tenuta? Il Poggione.
This flies in the face of today's wine democratization?a belief that anybody should be able to understand, without any fuss, any wine put in front of them. And if they don't, well then, it's the wine's fault, not theirs.
This, of course, is why so many Italian reds today are so modernistic, slathered with the creamy? vanilla? toastiness of new French oak??, miscegenated with Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah and practically hot-waxed to a tannin?-free smoothness. Do they sell? They sure do. They're easy to understand, familiar-tasting, and?here it comes?you can serve them to anybody.
Do these wines represent the best of Italy? For me, they do not. But they are ambassadors of Italian wines, and for that reason alone they're worthwhile. Italian wines at their best?the reds especially?are different from all others. And this difference, which lies at the very root of Italian wine greatness, is not an instantly seductive one.
The taste? of France is rich and smooth? in the mouth (think foie gras) while that of Italy?classically anyway?is about a slight, mouthwatering bitterness (think Campari). It's easy to see why France's seductive model has become universal, including in Italy. The rigors of traditional Barolo, Brunello, Barbera and Aglianico, among others, are formidable and not immediately come-hither.
So that's why I stayed my hand in choosing the traditional Italian reds I've come to love when deciding what to serve my guests. They're not instantly likable (the wines, not the guests). Of course, I could have chosen modern-style Italian reds, wines that I know are made for just this very easygoingness. You can use instant polenta? these days, too.
Maybe I didn't give my guests enough credit. Or maybe?just maybe?it's fair to say that some people just aren't ready for some wines. Is that snobbish? Or is it a fair reality?
The Greeks called Italy Oenotria - the land of wine. A large, colourful wine map of Italy hangs on my study wall. I've been exploring the viticultural tastes and textures of Italy from Abruzzo, Piedmont and Tuscany to Sardinia, Sicily and Venice. Melgab, an Italian father-and-son company, import a wide range of fine wines and grappa? of origin from Argentina, France, Italy, Portugal and Spain to South Africa.
Tecnorati
What an absolutely gorgeous day. Enjoy this lovely orchid I stashed in a used Jurancon bottle, in celebration of a mellow March departure. On, April!
Robert Parker goes to China. It doesn’t quite have the same geopolitical impact as Nixon goes to China, but the magnitude for the wine world may be similar as Parker heads there later this month for the first time. Jancis Robinson stopped by earlier this year too. And 
Add to that the looming issue with Italian wines: Who can you trust?
This whirlwind in Tuscany is finally reaching the shores of America. Already in New York and out West there is rumbling. Pushback. Wayback. The midsection of the US has been rabbit punched for eight grueling years and we need a moment. To pay our bills, to recalibrate. To gather some hope for ourselves.
Let?s talk about wine. I was with a young one who lived in Southern Italy for four years and just returned home to Texas. We were tasting wine and she remarked about a winery in Campania, ?I don?t remember their white wine tasting so buttery and smooth and international.? I hadn?t thought about it, I was too busy plowing on through the year, when out of the mouth of babes came a truth. She was right. Last week, in New York, I was having dinner with an old friend and we were talking about the very same thing. ?Yeah, I talked to one of the owners and asked him how it was going. Do you know what his answer was? Our wines are very popular. Not, our wines are a reflection of our land. But, our wines are appealing.? Oh really?
I was in Italy last month, tasting Barolo and Barbaresco. For what seem like hundreds of years now I have tasted Nebbiolo, what a rollercoaster ride! Sometimes the wines are a reflection of where they come from, in that unique way a wine is when it only has one area where it is comfortable growing. And then sometimes it seems like we are dealing with a perfume manufacturing mentality; crank out another flavor, give us something sexy for the camera, can you show us some skin? More toast. More velvet, more color, more money, more stuff. Less substance.
Salespeople rattle about this wine and that wine like it is the latest laundry detergent or smart phone. What happened to the old gang who loved the camaraderie and the product? Sure there might be an incentive here or there, but what about the thrill of the game, not the urgent flavor of the moment? What about the soil? The vine? The grape?
These wines are now like trophies, everything is a treasure, without the hunt. We want a pretty wife; we get the doctor to make her prettier. We want to be cool, we get a fast car. We want to sell, we quote a score.
What about all those Italians in our veins and our DNA, looking out from generations past, what would they think of this moment?
