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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
Never play cards with any man named 'Doc.' Never eat at any place called 'Mom's.' And never, ever, no matter what else you do in your life, sleep with anyone whose troubles are worse than your own. -- Nelson Algren
Without man's innate urge to take risks, we'd all still be sitting around drawing on cave walls, grunting and belching. Fortunately, our daring ancestors ventured forth into the dangerous world and created civilization. Which means today we can take our risks in small doses, like sitting around a dining table playing poker... and grunting and belching.
If you haven't smugly riffled a newly won stack of poker chips in a smoke-filled room surrounded by smelly guys swilling beer and cursing, then you haven't lived. You can leave the martinis, Baccarat and double-breasted dinner jackets to James Bond and his crumbled-British-Empire ilk. If you're an American man, playing poker's part of your heritage.
Our nation was founded on the idea of taking chances. This country was built by a bunch of rowdy guys who liked drinking and taking risks, and didn't like being told what to do. This is precisely why poker -- that most American of card games -- couldn't have been invented anywhere else. The father of our country, George Washington, who also happened to brew his own beer, was known to host card games in his tent during the Revolutionary War -- a war in which, it's important to remember, our opponent held the far better cards. Against all odds, those stalwart colonial souls managed to back up their bluff and rake in the rich pot that included freedom, democracy, self-determination and the deed to several hundred thousand acres of prime real estate. Some years later (in the mid-1800s), poker as we know it today was invented in the American West. So, if our founding fathers hadn't played and won, we'd be as lacking in cultural identity as our floundering Canadian cohorts up north, eh? (Note to Canadians: Please address your letters to the editor, RE: Canadian Cultural Identity Crisis.)
It's estimated some 60 million Americans play poker regularly. Some play for their love of gambling, some for their love of money, some to escape the humdrum routine of their lives, and some just for their fondness for camaraderie. Whether you win or lose, whether you know when to hold 'em or know when to fold 'em, gathering around a table with a group of pals, a deck of cards, stacks of colored chips, and some eats and drinks is one of the hallowed traditions of the American male.
The human instinct to gamble with fate is probably as old as...well, human instinct. The Ancient Greeks believed the lofty Gods of Mount Olympus threw dice to divide up the world. (Crude dice have been found in most ancient civilizations.) Roman soldiers cast lots for Jesus' robes. Julius Caesar conquered Gaul to pay off gambling debts. It's a fair bet that amoebas floundering in the early primordial soup wagered on who'd be the first to make it out of the bog.
Poker differs greatly from the games of pure chance in casinos. Gamblers, whether they bet on the roll of the dice or the spin of a roulette wheel, are generally betting against the odds. Smart gamblers know this, but it hasn't stopped gaming from becoming one of the most successful business enterprises. Skillful poker players use their knowledge to wager only on favorable odds. Gamblers are romantics looking forward to what might happen.
Accomplished poker players are realists betting on what should happen. Of course in poker, as in most endeavors, what should happen isn't always what does happen.
Fortunately in poker, as in life, you don't have to be good at it to like it. (Though I'm sure those who are absolutely no good are welcome and regular guests at many a poker table.) You just have to enjoy yourself.
>> There are no Miranda Rights in poker; anything you say and do can and will be used against you.
A man's character is stripped bare at the poker table. Friends will notice things about you that you've never even noticed yourself. These things are called "tells" -- signs you give off indicating what type of hand you have. If you hold chips in your left hand before betting, or always pull on your ear when you're bluffing, rest assured some savvy soul at the table is aware of it. There are no Miranda Rights in poker; anything you say and do can and will be used against you.
Being a good poker player requires something few people do in today's short-attention-span society: paying close attention to everything. Because poker's as much about people as it is about cards, and how we live influences how we play. There are those who play and live cold and conservative, striving to avoid risk, and those who play and live brash and full of bluster. There are players in the games of life and poker who'll never bet unless the odds are actually in their favor. If you can't spot the sheep waiting to be sheared at the table by the time you've quaffed your first beer, there's a good chance it's you. But in a friendly game always remember that you can shear a sheep many times, but you can only skin him once.
You don't have to have the best cards to win, either. You just have to play the best. And every hand is different, depending on what you choose to do with it.
If you enjoy bluffing your way through life -- and getting away with it -- then you probably get a major adrenaline rush by stealing a healthy pot knowing your opponents have you beat. The bluffing element of poker sets it apart from almost all other games and pursuits. You can't pretend to have the best hand and win in bridge or blackjack. You can't pretend you're a great mountain climber and conquer Kilimanjaro any more than you can bluff your way through the Iron Man Triathlon. So many human endeavors are cut and dried; if you say you're the best, there's only one way to prove it. This is the very beauty of poker. After all, isn't this what we all want?
In every deck of 52 cards there are 2,598,960 possible five-card poker hands. The bad news is that you're only going to be dealt one of them. The better news is that there's always the chance, the possibility, that you can transform whatever cards you hold into the winning hand.
That's why poker's never dull. The game has thousands of variants, and all it requires is your group of buddies, a deck of cards and some chips. It's always better if you switch the venue and the responsibility for providing the eats and drinks. And you can bring as much, or as little, flair to your poker night as you like.
If you're like me, you started with Budweiser, smelly Swisher Sweets and nickel-dime-quarter games. Over the years my friends and I have graduated to imports in both our beer and cigar preferences, and the same red, white and blue chips have grown to represent much larger sums. It's not fun without the risk of losing a bit more than you should, and you can't win if you don't play.
If you're really a gambler (this most superstitious of species) you'll of course have a good-luck token of some type, whether it's the old Dunes $5 chip you didn't cash in before the implosion, your tattered boxers emblazoned with the Queen of Hearts, the filthy Cubs cap you bought at Wrigley the year they were going to go all the way (but didn't -- again) or maybe even a silk smoking jacket. Poker is more psychology than sophistication. Studies have shown there's a real psychological boost from believing in a good-luck piece and that gamblers actually get an adrenaline surge as if they were in a fight-or-flight situation. Jonny Chan, former World Series of Poker champion, was always known to place an orange beside him when he played, though he never ate it. Stories abound about how many people have offered him absurd amounts of money for his orange, which he never sells. Having others believe in your good-luck charm never hurts.
Whether you carry an edible good-luck piece or not, poker night requires sustenance. You need fuel to keep you going during the hours you're spending trying to outwit your opponents. The history of eating and playing cards goes back even further than the Earl of Sandwich, who actually invented the snack that bears his name as a way to eat without getting his hands greasy and without missing a moment at the card table.
While it's not as exciting if there's no money involved, your game should never be too serious. You can play to win money or to have fun, but doing both is the best. Dealer's choice allows the deal to rotate around the table, with each person given a chance to deal whatever game he chooses. In the old days they used to place a silver dollar, one buck, in front of the person whose turn it was to deal. This ultimately became a cliche when President Truman, an avid poker player, declared: "The Buck Stops Here."
When we play poker, the games run the gamut from the classic 5-Card Draw of the Old West to 7-Card Stud, 7-Card No-Peeky, Baseball, Black Mariah, Chicago, 2-22, Guts, Lo-Ball, Omaha, Acey-Deucy, 3-Card Monte and several of our own twisted variants. It's good to have a healthy and eclectic mix of games, some where skill plays out along with some of the whimsical games of pure dumb luck that the poor players and drunks always enjoy and often win.
Each pack of cards holds within it the possibility of millions of different outcomes every single time we deal. In life and poker we can't all be winners, but we certainly can't win if we're not in the big game. And not knowing what'll happen, well, that's the real beauty of this poker game called life anyway, isn't it? That's exactly why life is such a big deal, after all. Anything might happen.
>> If you can't spot the sheep waiting to be sheared at the table by the time you've quaffed your first beer, then there's a good chance it's you.
>> HISTORY OF THE CARDS
Wild Bill Hickok and the Dead Man's Hand: Legend has it that Hickok always sat in the back corner of the saloon so he could see who was arriving, but eager to get in a high-stakes poker game that had only one seat open, he took a seat with his back to the door. He was shot in the back while holding two pair, black aces and eights, ever after known as the Dead Man's Hand.
ACES OF SPADES: Believed by many the world over to be an omen of evil, and known in the Far East as the "Card of Death." In 1966, the U.S. Playing Card Company produced several million decks composed solely of aces of spades for use as a secret weapon in Vietnam. They were dropped on the Front and said to have struck terror into the Viet Cong.
HIGH FLYING CARDS: Apollo 14 astronauts took specially made flameproof decks of cards for use in the 100% oxygen atmosphere of Skylab.
INVENTION OF PLAYING CARDS: Because they invented paper, and because it's almost unfathomable to imagine a culture having paper and not making cards, the Chinese are generally credited with the invention of playing cards.
HISTORY IN THE CARDS: Before the invention of printing, the Italians are known to have produced hand-painted playing cards of four suits (though cards were first mass-produced by the Germans very shortly after Gutenberg's invention of the printing press and were one of the first things to roll off after the Bible). In the Middle Ages the suits were set up to reflect contemporary society with hearts (cups or chalices) representing the Church; spades (or swords), the military; diamonds, the wealth of the merchant class; and Clubs the peasantry.
FACES OF HISTORY: Originally the four kings represented the four civilizations that begat Western culture: the Greeks, the Romans, the Hebrews and the Holy Roman Empire. Today's images are much the same as the symbolic ones chosen centuries ago. The king of spades is the Biblical King David carrying the sword of Goliath; the king of hearts is Charlemagne; the king of diamonds wielding a battle-ax is Julius Caesar, who appears in profile because the only surviving images of him were profiles on Roman coinage; and the king of clubs is Alexander the Great, who holds an orb representing the world he conquered. Most of these original symbols hold true on today's cards, though cards as we know them truly became popular when English soldiers of the Tudor era returned home with the concepts after serving in France, adorning the royal face cards in Elizabethan Age garb. The colored roses held by the queens represent the ending of the War of the Roses.
POKER RULES: The first book to codify the rules of poker was compiled in 1871 by the U.S. ambassador to England, at the request of Queen Victoria, whom he had introduced to the game. The current authority on poker and all card game rules is the famous "Book of Hoyle," hence, the phrase "according to Hoyle" for something done by the rules.
I took a walk in a quiet place. In it, there were many souls from ancient times. They were from Greece and Italy, Sumeria and Egypt, Persia and Etruria. The voices were silent but the souls were coming through loud and clear, on a Friday afternoon on the eastern edge of Central Park.
I had just interviewed a gentleman about his life, his book and things Italian. But we didn?t quite make a connection. How could you do anything in 15 minutes, except perhaps to size each other up like two bulls in a ring? Not that it was that kind of encounter. I left feeling the need to reconnect with my roots, so I hopped on a subway and headed back a couple of thousand years, to interview the ancient ones.
Q. What were the wines like when you were living?
A. They were dark and musky, and warm. They tasted a little like sour water sometimes and at other times sweet like rose petals.
Q. Who made the wine in your community?
A. We had families who passed the trade down from generation to generation. There were families, like in Chaldea, who had been working with the grape for hundreds of years.
Q. Who among you were the first to taste wine?
The fellow in profile speaks
A. When we first tasted it, it came about by accident. One of the servants had left a vase of grapes lying around in a cool dark place and forgot about it. Several weeks later one of the porters was walking around and smelled this sweet odor. He had it brought up to the dining area and we all took bites out of this fruit we knew, but it tasted very different this time. And the juice in the bottom of the vase we all took sips of. This was something we had never experienced before. So we instructed the porters to pick more grapes and let them sit in the basement in the same manner. That was the first time we had seen it.
Q. How did the news of this travel?
A. Slowly at first, but after 400-500 years pretty much everybody in the known world had an idea of the transformative powers of the grape.
Q. And the merchants, how did they fit in?
A. At first, it was seen as a religious ritual, so the merchants stayed away. A tribe of women eventually wound their way through the empire, setting up trade with the Egyptians.
Q. Many times we hear that the Greeks brought wine culture to Italy. Who knows about that in this room?
An Etruscan princess answers
A. We had already started with the grape before the Greeks arrived. We had been going on for several hundred years. What the Greeks did was to bring some new grape types with them, but not superior to the ones we had been cultivating for 500 years.
Q. It seems Ancient Romans loved wine. Poems were written about it, buildings and temples were erected in honor of the god of the grapes.
A. That all is true, but keep in mind we had very little to eat and drink. We were often sick and food went bad quickly. Wine kept, and it kept us well and our bellies full. And it made us happy.
Q. Did the grape have anything to do with the expansion of the Empire(s)?
A. Other than it went where man went? Of course when we conquered Gaul or the Huns or the Britons, we would plant vines and keep the local people collected and subdued. Wine had a part to play in the civilizing factor of the wild tribes.
Q. Last Question. If you were around today, what kind of wine would you like to see? What would you make?
An older Roman answers
A. Listen, I would round up some of my soldiers and head to Toscanium and set that land straight. I?d bring them back to the Jovian roots and light a bloody fire under their feet. And by all the power of Jupiter, we?d bring them back to the flame of truth and all that is holy about the miracle the gods have sent down from the heavens in giving us grape with which to make this precious wine. Anyone caught disrespecting the gift of the gods would be crucified and struck down, their family sent into exile. To go against the Divine Immortals is the worst sin one could commit against the pantheon that rules our ancient souls.
Tuscan Wine Tours offers day tours of Italy's region of Tuscany. In this video, the group visits two small wineries and enjoys a relaxing lunch al fresco, a typical tour. Take a look:
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When I contemplate the lowly rutabaga, it makes me think about economics. You always see them in the grocery store, but who buys them? Despite the efforts of the Advanced Rutabaga Studies Institute, I've never heard someone mention a craving for one. What more popular vegetables subsidize the presence of fresh rutabagas year round? It's also odd to buy a root vegetable encased in wax. Not just the sheen of gloss put on apples and cucumbers, but a thick protective coating that preserves the root vegetable. At a Burns' Night dinner years ago I had some "neeps & tatties" (rutabagas and potatoes) alongside the haggis, and I recently had a rutabaga purée in Cleveland, but I'd never fixed one myself.
I had an idea for a fancy preparation incorporating an ingredient that looked like a prop from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I peeled the softball-sized rutabaga. It takes forever with a peeler and is somewhat dangerous with a knife. Then I divided it into a ¼" dice and boiled it in chicken broth until tender (roughly 45 minutes). Mashed up with some roasted garlic, popped into a ramekin and topped with some buttered orzo, basil and a parmesan chip, one of those magical garnishes that ups the price of a dish by $5.
Verdict? I'm more likely to use acorn squash when I want a savory, non-potato starch. The rutabaga was good in this dish but not necessarily worth the trouble of prep. I also can't shake the association of rutabagas with hard times and starvation such as the Steckrübenwinter of 1916-1917, when the population of Germany had to survive on rutabagas.
Unlike the subjects of the Kaiser, I got to enjoy mine with some beef, a refreshing salad, and the 2005 Columbia Crest Two Vines "Vineyard 10" from the Columbia Valley of Washington. $9, 13.5% abv, a proprietary blend of Syrah, Sangiovese, and Cabernet Sauvignon. Bright, with big red fruit flavors, some lingering tannins but overall a decent blend for the price.
I've always found Columbia Crest to be a reliable producer, and at some point I'm going to try their higher end offerings. One blend I miss is their Semillon-Chardonnay, which I last remember seeing in the late 90s. When you got to serve that to someone that had never tasted any other white than straight chard, it was delightful to watch his or her face brighten up.
If you need to educate yourself on the finer qualities of our fermented friend, check out this Wine Guide Video. You will discover all you need to know about foreign wine.
Speaking of "Fermented Friends", don't say I didn't warn you!
Summer tried to dip its toe in the water this weekend - it looked a little like summer and it was pretty much the right time of the year - but the shorts stayed in their cupboard! Today it also looks like summer, but my jacket remains on - so far. Chickening out of firing-up [...]
You cannot have a better match with a plate of salumi than with this wine. Chill it up a little bit, and start your engines. From the Grasparossa grape, I took a bottle over to a chef from Emilia-Romagna the other day. He has known me for years, but has rarely if ever acknowledged my presence in his world. When I handed the bottle to his son to give to him, you?d think I was his long lost cousin. His eyes lit up, he smiled, he liked me. He really, really, liked me. I owe it all to this friendly little Lambrusco.
Served slightly chilled, it is frizzante, and enters with a burst of slightly under-ripe dark cherry notes. Then the fruit kicks in and there, all of a sudden, you have a party on your palate.
Note: this wine is bone-dry.
Get yourself hooked up with a Lambrusco like this. It takes the snob off the table. It?s subtle and bold, delicate and a romp. It?s a serious wine that laughs at itself. Go get yourself some.
Cycling the Tour de France has been likened to running 20 marathons in 20 days. I?m pretty sure I couldn?t run one marathon in 20 days.
Yet there I was, under the blistering sun of Provence, slowly pedaling my way up one of the most dreaded, soul-crushing climbs of last year?s Tour: Mont Ventoux. What lured me to that beast of a hill was a longing to do more than just watch the Tour de France. I wanted to experience the Tour de France. I yearned to ride the very roads that, just hours later, would be chewed up by Lance Armstrong, Laurent Jalabert and Joseba Beloki. I wanted to white-knuckle it down the same hairpin turns, and be cheered on by the giddy spectators who?d camped out for days, waiting for that colorful tsunami of Spandex to speed by. Basically, I hungered for a taste of what the world?s most grueling sporting event really felt like.
That?s what landed me, my husband and 13 others on a Tour de France cycling trip with Backroads, an adventure travel company. The plan was to follow the last third of the three-week race as the riders whizzed their way past the lavender fields of Provence, up the mythical Alps and down the cobblestoned Champs-Elysées in Paris. Along the way, we?d stay in four-star hotels, consume obscene amounts of French fare and work off those calories by cycling 40 to 60 miles a day (except during the trip?s three rest days). We?d get to bike some of the most memorable segments of Tour de France routes. We?d also tackle short sections of last year?s course, a torturous 2,032-mile journey.
?How hard can this be?? I naively wondered as I sat on my couch, lazily thumbing through a Backroads catalog. ?It?s not like we?re doing the whole Tour. Just part of it.?
But that ?part? happened to be the part with the mountains. Big, colossal, mammoth mountains.
Even so, I saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If the prognosticators were right, I?d be witnessing Lance Armstrong pedal his way into the history books, becoming the first American ever to win six Tours. I?d be right there, literally, on Armstrong?s road to victory. Mountains, shmountains, I reassured myself. I?m 34 years old; I take spinning classes. I?ll be just as good as anyone else on the Backroads trip.
I knew I miscalculated that last part as soon as I got a glimpse of the other Backroads travelers. Most of the men?s legs were shaved closer than mine. This meant there was either a disproportionate number of transvestites on the trip, or these were some serious cyclists. It turned out to be the latter, which meant my husband and I were destined to play the role of lanterne rouge, the red lantern that hangs from the back of a train. It?s Tour-speak for ?the slowpokes.?
But unlike the Tour, this was a vacation, not a competition. At least that?s what I kept telling myself as I crawled up Mont Ventoux, which I think is French for ?makes you curl up in a ball and cry for Mommy.? The 6,273-foot mountain juts out of the Provençal landscape like a giant tumor; and this tumor is anything but benign. Comedian and cycling aficionado Robin Williams summed it up this way: ?Even the mountain goats don?t like it.?
Ventoux is a relentlessly steep 13-mile climb to the barren, lunar-like summit, where exhausted British cyclist Tom Simpson keeled over and died during the 1967 Tour. As I started to wonder if the same fate might await me, a burly Frenchman with a moustache as big as my handlebars decided I needed a little pep talk.
?Allez! Allez!? he repeatedly shouted in my ear as I crept up the mountain in granny gear. My French friend was telling me to ?Go! Go!? which was what I wished he would do, since sweat was stinging my eyes, my legs felt like the beleaguered stage during ?Riverdance? and the last thing I wanted was a hairy cheerleader.
But his words pushed me on, if only to put a little more distance between me and his Burgundy-infused breath.
I?d hear the ?Allez! Allez!? refrain countless more times from the throngs of onlookers who?d staked out their spot on the mountain, waiting for the Tour to wheel by in a few hours. Folks like me were merely the warm-up act.
We all know the French are very good at some things (food) and not so good at others (war). But they?re extremely adept at the high art of tailgating. When they weren?t rooting on amateur cyclists like me, they killed time by sipping wine, nibbling on brie and baguettes, playing cards and painting riders? names on the street.
At my heady speed of 4 mph, I had ample time to witness all of these pre-race festivities. It became clear that, to the French, the Tour is much more than a sporting event. It, like Jerry Lewis, is a cultural phenomenon. Unlike Jerry, it?s easy to understand the Tour?s appeal. This is a race packed with more drama than a Jerry Springer show, and with at least as much potential for bloodshed. Catastrophic crashes. Drug raids. Cheating. Smack talking. Not to mention jaw-dropping displays of athleticism. It?s hard to imagine just how much pain these guys put themselves through until you?ve sampled some of it firsthand.
Mont Ventoux is a kick-in-the-teeth climb, even when you?re cycling it with fresh legs like we were. But the Tour racers had logged 120 miles that day before broaching the base of Ventoux. And they still managed to go up it faster than I went down it. How?s that for an ego-deflater?
It truly is a humbling experience to watch more than 150 Tour riders sail up the very road you just cycled. They make it look so easy. But your burning quads and aching back remind you that it?s not.
I thought cycling Ventoux would leave me too exhausted to cheer on the racers. But one glimpse of that Texan wearing the coveted yellow leader?s jersey had the effect of a dozen espressos. There he was. Lance Armstrong ? cancer survivor, cyclist extraordinaire ? about an arm?s length away from me, plowing up the very mountain that made my legs feel like overcooked fettuccine. Despite being chased by a pack of cyclists who wanted nothing more than to strip that golden jersey off his back and feed it to him in tiny pieces, he looked more serene than I do in a bubble bath.
Other racers gulped oxygen like frat boys chug beer. But Armstrong seemed to be barely breathing while he pumped his pedals like pistons. I knew I was watching an über-athlete in action. I had a front row seat at the Tour de Lance, and I?d earned it. At the top of my overworked lungs, I shouted the words I?d once heard from a wise, mustachioed Frenchman: ?Allez! Allez!?
This balanced red offers bright cherry and cranberry fruit, with licorice and mineral accents. Not a big wine, but nervy and intense. Drink now through 2010. 3,500 cases imported.
The Battle for Wine and Love or How I Saved the World from Parkerization Author: Alice Feiring The font of the title is pleasantly wacky, and the title itself promises a dream-like escapade in which Feiring daydreams herself ?saving the world? and falling in love with a superhero winemaker. Not a bad concept. This is not a journalistic effort like other recently released wine books, To Cork or Not to Cork, The Billionaire?s Vinegar, First Big Crush, Wine and Philosophy. This is a personal essay on a personal point of view. The book is a small-format book?hardbound, 5 ½ ?...
The hunt for October red has turned up a whole lot of alternatives. Here are four to get the week off on the right track. I love them all and have repeated them in search of my favorite. I can't say which is best because they're all top notch, each perfect for the season, and each priced at about $15 or under per bottle. Two are from Spain, continuing on my October theme; one is French and one from Washington State. Perhaps the balance of the month will turn up something from California.
Eric Soloman's European Cellars is an importer many people trust. It's like a seal of approval for any Spanish wine in the eyes of many value conscious Americans. Eric brings us Capçanes Mas Donís Montsant Red 2004 ($15) and Mas Que Vinos Ercavio Tempranillo Roble 2005 ($13). Both are deep purple in the glass, but the Ercavio has more of an unfiltered appearance, showing some haziness under a halogen beam.
Mas Donís 2004 is mostly old-vine Grenache (80% Grenache with 20% Syrah) and has a perfumed black cherry nose with teaberry and hints of pencil lead. The body is medium, the flavor's tart and the mouth feel is moderately tannic. The cherry fruit along with some vanilla flavors come together nicely in the dusty dry finish. The only thing I don't like is the plastic cork. Why must anyone use that blasted plastic cork? Alcohol content: 14%.
Ercavio Tempranillo 2005 spent 5 months in French American oak and has a lovely aroma of black raspberry, loganberry and apple pie spice, plus the scent of a tobacco shop. Lush and fruit forward, this is what I would describe as a masculine comfort wine, and it would pair perfectly with a cheeseburger. The closure is a Nomacork*. Alcohol content: 13.5%.
Jean-Philippe Bourgeois was the General Manager for Eric Solomon for 6 years, and now he is bringing French values to the American market. Château Capion 1C Rouge 2005 (Vin de Pays de l'Hérault, $13) is a blend of 35% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Syrah, 20% Cabernet Franc, 15% Merlot and was barrel aged for 14 months. That sounds like a recipe for a great Bordeaux but this gem of a red comes from further south. Still you get the deep purple color and aromas of black currants, dark berries and hints of vanilla. The rich blackberry cobbler flavors envelop the mouth in a far reaching luscious dry finish.
The Magnificent Wine Company is the mass-production wing of K Vintners of Walla Walla, Washington. KV is the project of Charles Smith who brings us such magnificent wines as "The Creator". You might walk right past House Wine 2005 ($11) due to the rather "in your face" and non-standard graphics on the label. You might mistake it for a generic red blend but it's anything but. The blend is 54% Cabernet Sauvignon, 30% Merlot, 11% Syrah, 3% Malbec and 2% Cabernet Franc. Here's another ideal Bordeaux blend, and the latitiude is virtually the same as Bordeaux. The resulting aromas and flavors are much better than the average house wine, with dark berry flavors and aromas, resolving nicely in to a lush dry finish that echoes the virtues of barrel aging. The closure is a real cork. Alcohol content: 13.9%.
*The Nomacork is a composite resin artificial cork that is similar to the Neocork, but the Nomacork brand is much more popular in terms of units sold.
Ever get one of those annoying scam emails asking you to accept stolen credit card numbers and send your product overseas? Who are these scam artists? Who are their victims? Can they be stopped? Dover Canyon Winery has just published a five-part series of articles called Inside a Wine Scam. The series has resulted in FBI subpoenas for the operators accepting money transfers at a remote location in Oklahoma. In a surprising twist, the 'front man' for the scam may herself be a victim of 'work from home' fraud. Part I: How the Wine Scam Works Part II: The 'John...
On Thursday night 03/13/08, international womens charity organization Spark and the Napa Valley Vintners lit up the Rotunda and accompanying floors of San Francisco City Hall and provided quite a night of charity, wine and beats. "Nightlife Napa Valley," hosted by the Napa Valley Vintners to benefit Spark was ...
Firstly I'm having further problems with my blog which go back to the previous problems I had. Up until this morning everything was working, then Typepad went down and when Typepad came back up my blog decided to be silly. So you may have problems assessing a page and you will have a problem leaving a comment. If you remove the words "my weblog/" from the browser bar comments will work.
I hope to sort it out soon. It couldn't have happened at a worse time.
We have one more participant to A Taste Of Yellow.....and that brings us to a nice round number of 180. From Chuck in San Francisco at Sunday Nite Dinner the 180th entry is Spicy Corn Salad. Sorry no photo at this point.
Last year I ran a 'subscription and book deal' that a lot of people have been asking me to run again. The book last year was the Wine Hunter - this year it's the Why the French Hate Us: The Real Story of Australian Wine book. Once again I've slashed the price - it wasn't all that long ago that a new subscription to The Wine Front was $55, and the book retails for $28.95. And yet I am offering both a full year's subscription and the book for just $49.95, and that includes delivery of the book.
Sake is a Japanese alcoholic beverage, made from a series of fermentations using steamed rice. The process removes the millet and the protein from the rice, leaving the starch-similar to how beer is made from grain. Over time, the starch is converted to sugar naturally and a little yeast, called koji, is added in later stages of the fermentation, which acts to create alcohol out of the sugar. At the end of the process, the liquid is filtered to remove any millet or other particles. The resulting product is clear and about 15 percent alcohol. Sake has been made in Japan for over 6800 years.
Types of Sake There are two kinds of sake: junmai (with no alcohol added) and honjozo (with alcohol added during the fermentation process). Over 80 percent of the sake made in Japan is honjozo sake. Within those broad classifications, there are different grades of sake:
Futsu - economy sake
Ginjo - premium sake
Daiginjo - ultra-premium sake
How to Drink Sake Futsu (ordinary) sake is warmed for drinking. (Ginjo and Daiginjo are served chilled.) Traditionally, sake is poured from a stoneware carafe, called a tokkuri (pictured above). Warm the sake in the tokkuri by placing it in a partially-filled pan of boiling water. (Don't overheat the sake; it should be warm-a little over body temperate, not hot.)
To serve the sake, pour it from the tokkuri into individual sake cups, called ochoko. It is proper sake etiquette to hold your cup while the sake is being poured. Inhale the sake's aroma gently before sipping. Sake is meant for sipping, not throwing back like a shot of whiskey.
Storing Sake Sake does not improve with age, like fine wines or Scotch whiskey. Instead, buy sake with a recent bottling date. Once open, a bottle of sake should be kept in a cool, dark place (such as the refrigerator), as the liquid is sensitive to heat and light. A bottle, stored properly should last around a year.
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Tecnorati
A man's character is stripped bare at the poker table. Friends will notice things about you that you've never even noticed yourself. These things are called "tells" -- signs you give off indicating what type of hand you have. If you hold chips in your left hand before betting, or always pull on your ear when you're bluffing, rest assured some savvy soul at the table is aware of it. There are no Miranda Rights in poker; anything you say and do can and will be used against you. 
Q. What were the wines like when you were living?
The fellow in profile speaks
An Etruscan princess answers
An older Roman answers
You cannot have a better match with a plate of salumi than with this wine. Chill it up a little bit, and start your engines. From the Grasparossa grape, I took a bottle over to a chef from Emilia-Romagna the other day. He has known me for years, but has rarely if ever acknowledged my presence in his world. When I handed the bottle to his son to give to him, you?d think I was his long lost cousin. His eyes lit up, he smiled, he liked me. He really, really, liked me. I owe it all to this friendly little Lambrusco.
