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I think Frank is having an affair. He mutters her name constantly ? sometimes lovingly, sometimes not so much so. Her picture appears in books on the coffee table, on the dashboard in the truck, even pinned on the bathroom mirror with some unintelligible scribbles and notations below it. I know he sometimes even takes her to bed.
Like all relationships, there is a definite up and down cycle to his infatuation with this woman. As his WSET exam gets closer he finds her more frustrating. At other times, he finds her charming, witty, and distinctly sexy. But he relies on her totally and without reservation. ?I just can?t be without her,? he?ll sometimes confess.
I suspect that if Frank ever actually met her face to face and in person, he would give her the traditional European greeting ? three kisses on alternating cheeks ? right, left, right. He might even hug her.
Tonight Frank writes the vinticulture portion of his WSET Diploma exam. Perhaps when he?s done and the marks are tallied, he will close the Oxford Companion to Wine and Jancis Robinson will be forgotten for a short while. Perhaps. At least until it?s time for the next exam.
A wonderful surprise. Light golden colour. Lovely nose of honey, toast and citrus. Silky palate with depth and richness. Long, every element in balance. At its peak now, this is a world-class wine. Cork. 11.5% - 92/100
There?s an urban myth that we can get all the vitamins and nutrients necessary to survive from Guinness. I?ve made the pilgrimage to Dublin, Ireland, to see if the myth is indeed true. My quest is being documented by a five man TV crew for my new series Glutton for Punishment (now airing on the Food Network in The U.S. and Canada). My plan: to live on nothing but Guinness and water from 6pm Monday until 6pm Friday. Fiachna O?Braonain, co-founder and guitar player of the popular Irish Celtic-rock band Hothouse Flowers has generously agreed to show me around the pubs of Dublin and act as my tour guide for the week.
My good friend Colin Devlin (who introduced me to Fiachna) is in Montreal recording an album, and I?m staying in his vacated flat. Colin bet me a hundred dollars that I wouldn?t survive the week on my self-styled diet. When I arrived at his flat, I discovered a chicken suit hanging in the bedroom with a note pinned to it. It read:
Dear Bob,
This suit is your end of the bargain. Fiachna will be happy to show you a fantastic time in Dublin. But if you cave in, you?ll have to wear this chicken suit for the duration of your stay.
Cheers,
Colin
PS: Please water the plants.
Day 1 (Monday)
Today Fiachna and I mucked about, had a couple of warm-up pints, then headed down to The Purdy, one of Dublin?s many gastropubs, for a fabulous last supper. Like a man on death row sitting down to his last meal, I ordered oysters (accompanied by Chablis), tagliatelle carbonara (accompanied by a Borolo), sea bass on roasted vegetables, garlic fried potatoes and stir-fried veggies (with a full bottle of [white] Mercury from Burgundy) and a multitude of desserts ? followed by Irish coffee, a shot of Bailey?s and a Blackbush Irish whiskey (on the house).
In a spontaneous show of solidarity (or drunken moment ? you choose), Fiachna surprised me by announcing that he was going to join me on the diet. At the stroke of 6 pm the two of us ended the gluttony and officially embarked on our week-long Guinness diet. If all goes well, neither of us will have a morsel of solid food, or any liquid other than Guinness (or water), until 6pm on Friday.
We headed to Searson?s, ?the local?, for a couple of pints before calling it a night.
Day 2 (Tuesday)
At about 9 am, I stumbled into the living room of Colin?s flat to discover two beautiful Irish girls sitting at the dining room table. One was salaciously juicing fresh oranges as the other set out a full-on Irish breakfast. A place had been set for me and all was offered up. While I was surveying the spread, Fiachna arrived and informed me that this was a regular monthly gathering. Even though it was too late to cancel it, he promised to persevere with his half of the deal. We cracked a couple cans of Guinness and watched the girls eat (and believe me, these Irish lassies put the girls from Los Angeles to shame when it comes to eating). The beer was surprisingly satisfying and the company almost made me forget what I was missing.
After our breakfast of champions, I visited a local doctor for a brief assessment. He was a bit shocked by my report on last night?s alcohol consumption (note to self: remember the 50 percent rule when responding to doctor?s questions about alcohol consumption), but after taking my vital stats, he pronounced me to be in fighting form.
Fiachna and I headed to an illustrious local pub to celebrate the positive prognosis. We had a pint while the camera crew ate a HUGE pub lunch in front of us. Afterwards, Fiachna headed to the studio to mix a track for an album he?s recording with the drummer of the Flowers and the original bass player of the Pogues (and Elvis Costello?s former wife). And I headed to another pub for a prearranged meeting with Father Brean.
I was seeking council in the art of avoiding temptation, and the good Father chose to dispense it while feasting on a delicious-looking plate of shepherd?s pie. Actually he was quite a hoot and gave me the best tip so far. His advice: to plug my nose when I was around aromatic food. I responded by sticking a napkin up each nostril, then sending our production assistant out for swimming nose plugs.
After bidding adieu to the man of the cloth, it was on to Fiachna?s studio to hear a few tracks. His band mates were both there ? munching on a freshly delivered pizza.
As if that wasn?t enough temptation for one day, Fiachna insisted that we go to a party thrown by The Dubliner magazine to celebrate their ?Top 100 Restaurants? issue. Naturally, the place was lousy with food, wine and chefs. We made a few friends, then headed off for one last pint.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 7 (or 8 depending who was counting) Water: at least a gallon Pees: About 15.
Day 3 (Wednesday)
Another day of temptation and torture.
A beautifully presented plate of eggs Benedict greeted me as I opened my bedroom door this morning, but naturally it was no match for a cool pint of the brown stuff which I quaffed while reading the morning paper.
After a bit of e-mailing and general housekeeping, Fiachna took me to meet a chef friend of his at L?Ecrivian, one of Dublin?s only restaurants to earn a Michelin star. As is my nature, I ended up in the kitchen where Chef Derry showed off several of his Guinness-infused dishes. Seems as though he thought my ?Guinness diet? included anything made with Guinness and he was eager to feed me. He must have anticipated my love of bacon, because just about everything from the oysters to the braised beef included it in one form or another. Frankly, it was his freshly-baked Irish soda bread that really made me weak at the knees. Chef Derry promised to pack me a box lunch for my flight on Saturday ? if I last the week.
After the demo, I headed out for a pint on my own. When I came back to meet Fiachna at the restaurant, I discovered him chowing down on plate of quail and sipping an Italian red from a fish bowl-size wine glass. THE FUCKER had caved! Frankly I was impressed that the rocker had lasted this long. And after a brief brow beating, I commended him on pacing me for the first 42 hours. After Fiachna?s betrayal, I had to endure the crew moaning in delight over a stunning lunch that Chef Derry prepared.
From there we toured a few other pubs where I learned to ?pull a pint? and met a few nice ? albeit plastered ? locals. Then after the crew stopped for a quick fry-up at the local chippy stand, Fiachna took me to a pub where he sat in on the penny flute with some traditional Irish musicians. Needless to say, a couple of pints were added to the mix.
In case you are wondering about my state of well-being, it has been a bit of a roller coaster ride. At the end of day two, I had developed a raging head ache. But it later dawned on me that it was probably due to what I wasn?t drinking ? caffeine ? then the all-day drinking or lack of food. I am finding myself vacillating from moments of euphoria to periods of grumpiness (yes, really!). And as I type this I?m feeling quite light-headed. So far, I?ve never felt drunk ? just slightly buzzed for brief periods. And one other thing of note, I can?t turn around without seeing food or references to food everywhere I look.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 8 Water: tons, but probably still not enough Pees: I lost count after 20.
Day 4 (Thursday)
This morning?s offering in front of my bedroom door was a dessert plate sent over by Chef Derry. Needless to say, the double chocolate brownie, fig shooter and vanilla custard were no match for my ?pint of plain? which I enjoyed at the local at 9:30 am.
After breakfast, Fiachna sent me to his hairdresser-to-the-stars for a Guinness shampoo. Wow, the man who touched Bono?s mane touched mine. Come to think of it, Bono doesn?t have much left these days.
The rest of the day was consumed (or not as the case was) with a visit to the grave of Arthur Guinness, the founder of Guinness. Arthur died in 1802, but his great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson, Patrick Guinness is still dining off the family name. Patrick, to be fair, was very cordial (in that upper crust, self-aggrandizing kind of way) and was happy to spin truths and a half-truths about the family history until Will mercifully called ?cut?.
We wrapped early and I took in the Borat movie at a packed cinema. Despite the wafting popcorn aromas, it was a welcome distraction ? and wickedly funny in a juvenile kind of way.
The hunger pains have subsided, as has (most of) the grumpiness, and I?m shocked at how much energy I have considered my limited caloric intake. That said, and despite the conventional wisdom that says the stomach shrinks, I do feel as though if I let my guard down for a second, I could do some serious damage to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I am cautiously optimistic that I?ll make it to the finish line. However, my bravado is tempered by my fear that the entire crew is still determined to take me down ? after all, they?ve had every culinary resource in Dublin at their fingertips. With only 18 hours to go, the proof, as they say, will be in the pudding.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 5 (today was the Guinness diet diet!) Water: who cares any more Pees: let?s just say the soles of my shoes are wearing thin
Day 5 (Friday)
Nothing could have prepared me for the challenges that would face me today.
There was a note outside my door in the spot I?d come to expect my daily breakfast offering. It read ?Townsend Street #2.? I dressed quickly, glanced at the chicken suit, then ran out of the flat and waived down a taxi. The cabbie deposited me in a scrappy part of town in front of a dubious looking pub called The Windjammer. When I entered I saw Fiachna sitting at the bar devouring a plate of poached eggs on mushrooms and toast. In fairness, he was accompanying his breakfast with a pint, so naturally I joined in. The Windjammer is an ?early house.? Early houses, for the initiated, are pubs in Dublin that?re licensed to open at 7am in order to serve shift workers as they get off work in the early morning hours.
After we finished our respective breakfasts, Fiachna took me to the coast to see the James Joyce museum. It was cold, overcast and rainy. As we approached I noticed several swimmers braving the icy waters. I looked at the swimmers, then at Fiachna. Suddenly my mind scrolled back to a moment as we left the early house when the soundman took my microphone pack from me ?to fix a loose connection.? The penny dropped just seconds before Fiachna dropped his trousers, revealing a pair of plaid swimming trunks. Coincidentally, he just happened to have an extra pair of shorts with him, and insisted that I join him. Before I could decline, he cannon-balled into the drink and I had no choice but to follow. The 40°F ocean waters would have been a shock to any system at the best of circumstances, but they were even more jarring to my weakened body. At the same time I must admit that the experience was quite invigorating. We scampered out onto the rocks shivering. There were no towels in sight, but Fiachna produced a steaming thermos of chicken soup and held the cup up to my nose. Weakened, but not yet broken, I took the soup and poured the whole lot over my head. Chicken soup never felt so good.
With the ruse up, we toweled off and headed to a pub for a quick warm-up pint. I can?t say that it warmed my body, but it certainly took the edge off the shock. From there, Fiachna brought me to one of Ireland?s finest cheese shops. Great cheeses of the world are one of my weaknesses and this shop had them all. I did my best to ignore the wafting aromas as Fiachna and the crew devoured a tasting. Our next stop was a specialty wine store around the corner. The owner had set out a luscious food and wine pairing for us and Fiachna dove in with the same wild abandon he had displayed at the sea side. Then he announced that I could pick any wine in the shop ? as long as I opened it and had a glass. I looked around the well-stocked shop and eventually spotted the reserve case. Closing in on my prey, I discovered a 1985 Petrus ? one of Bordeaux?s most legendary wines, and an excellent vintage. The price was 1,250 euros, well beyond the budget of my weenie cable show. It seemed like a toothless ploy until Will, my director (and the show?s true protagonist) whipped out his wallet and produced his credit card.
At this point it should be noted that Will and I have been traveling on the magical mystery tour we call Glutton for Punishment for the past six months. By now he?s well acquainted with my many weaknesses. Will?s as competitive and tenacious as I am (but in a much more Zen-like way). Usually he?s my staunchest supporter, but in this particular episode he took it as his personal mission to take me down. He also happens to LOVE wine and wanted to taste the Petrus as much as I did.
?Drink it now and I?ll pay for it,? he said.
He was dead serious.
It?s not often in one?s life that they have the opportunity to drink an ?85 Petrus. With less than two hours left, Will taunted me by saying that I could have my wine and drink it too, then only have to endure two (humiliating) hours in the chicken suit. It was painfully tempting, but I knew the finish of the wine would fade long before the stories of my demise.
Next up was a visit to the doctor who?d examined me earlier in the week. Despite his pronouncement that I was ?slightly pale and tired looking,? I was feeling surprisingly spry. He quizzed me about the week and shook his head in disbelief at how much I?d consumed. According to his scale, I lost more than five pounds. The mild-mannered doctor was quite shocked (and dismayed) to find that all my vital signs were exactly the same as my first visit. (Note to Morgan Sperlock: choose your poison wisely). Moving in for the kill, I challenged him to an arm wrestle. I?m sure I detected a flicker of fear in his eyes as he politely declined.
With a renewed spring in my step, we moved on to the market bar where my victory dinner was set to take place. Even though there was less than an hour remaining until the 6 pm finish line, many details had yet to be arranged. Peter Devlin (our local production coordinator, and Colin?s brother) was dispatched to accompany me for a last pint. Six o?clock came and went. I got a hand shake ? and another pint ? from Peter, but at this point, all clocks were reset to television time which basically meant that I couldn?t have my first bite until we were ready to roll. 6:30?7?7:30?another pint?8. Finally Peter?s cell phone rang with word that everyone was ready. As we walked across the street to the restaurant, it began to dawn on me that I had actually survived all the physical challenges, temptations and hurdles of the Guinness diet.
Fiachna was waiting at the bar to greet me with a victory pint. He announced that the table was almost ready. We were to be joined by chef Darry, orange juice girl, his band mates, the Guinness barber and a few other sorted and assorted characters that we had encountered in our travels. Fiachna excused himself for a pee and I nursed my last pint, thinking about how long it would be before I would order another one on my own volition. Much to my pleasure, one of the most stunning woman I had seen all week sat down on the stool Fiachna had just vacated. Needless to say I had no intention of saying it was taken. Moments later, a curvaceous full-lipped-dark-haired beauty sat down on the vacant stool to my left. Apparently the two were friends and we immediately struck up a conversation. I could tell that the fair skinned girl was Irish and the dark haired girl seemed Spanish. The Irish maiden was plucking ripe strawberries from a bowl and dipping them in freshly whipped cream. Seeing the hunger in my eyes, she generously offered me a strawberry. In my slightly buzzed state, I tried to explain my predicament. This amused her, but she would have none of it. The two of them took it as some form of challenge complete the mission that the rest of Ireland had failed to at. I held my ground, which only made them more determined. Sensing my weakened state of willpower they both offered me a long slow kiss if I would just take one bite. Eyelashes fluttered, nostrils quivered and lips curled.
Would anyone really know?after all Fiachna was in the bathroom and?hey?just a minute?
Having survived the last temptation of a very, very long week. I was shepherded to the table where I joined the waiting group (and the two girls from the bar) for the final countdown. For the record, in real time it was 8:30 pm.
5-4-3-2-1!!!
After the big hurrah everyone was curious about how I intended to break my fast.
?What I would REALLY like is nice glass of red wine?, I replied, ?but there?s something I want first,? then I grabbed a long slow kiss from the two girls ? who it should be noted were a bit shocked by the unscripted moment.
Moral of the whole experience: With a little will power and perseverance, you can have your cake and eat it two.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 8 Everything else is a blur
Saturday
As I type this, I?m 36,000 feet in the air, en route home to Los Angeles. Chef Derry over-delivered on his promise and I?m munching on a pheasant, tomato confit and Gubbeen cheese sandwich ? just one of the many delicacies in my well-stocked lunch box. To heighten the pleasure, and make up for lost time, I?m washing it down with a full-bodied Spanish Rioja that the flight attendant brought me from First Class in trade for some of my fois gras. My week?s experience has made me even more appreciative of the things I?m fortunate to take for granted, and it?s a renewed pleasure to be able to describe food that I am actually eating.
Glutton for Punishment airs on the Food Network in the U.S. at 9:30pm Tuesdays. In other episodes Bob Blumer enters a chili pepper eating competition, a flair bartending competition, the New York City waiter?s race, and attempts to run the Medoc marathon while sampling all 23 wines along the route.
Very elegant, with ripe, alluring red and black cherry fruit nicely layered with hints of sweet spice, mineral and mocha. The long, tangy finish lets the minerality play out and pulls you back for more. Shows better length and integration than previous vintages. This wine has good track record, and it's getting even better. Drink now through 2013. 5,380 cases made.
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?
Love is in the air this month. For those of you looking for a way to dress up your Valentine?s Day, consider the object of your affection ?the one with the sparkling personality? as your inspiration.
Accordingly, pop open the sparkling wines and celebrate.
If Valentine?s Day is not your thing, there are plenty of other reasons to celebrate with bubbly this month, from Presidents? Day to any other day of the week, which ends in ?y.? Why? Because sparkling wines add a touch of festivity to any occasion and they taste too good to wait for a special event. And, even though you may not have a fondness for this Hallmark holiday, you always have your love of wines to keep you warm.
Sparkling wines, of which Champagne is most well-known, capitalize on harnessing the CO2 created during the fermentation process to provide the fizz we all know and love. This capture takes place during a secondary fermentation, which is coupled with allowing the spent yeasts to remain in the bottle throughout the ageing period. The yeasts impart the bready/toasty aromas and flavors that are characteristic of sparkling wines.
There are several ways to make a wine sparkle, the simplest, cheapest and short-lived being the injection method (aka pompe bicyclette), which injects CO2 into the wine. These man-made bubbles tend to be large and coarse on the palate.
Conversely, the traditional method, based upon Methode Champagnoise, provides a longer-lasting, smaller bead, which has more finesse in its mouthfeel. These traits stem from the labor-intensive process which includes an initial blending of still wines (assemblage) that is then bottled and capped, along with a yeast and sugar mixture (tirage), to facilitate a secondary fermentation. The wines are then left to age on the spent yeasts for a period of time as set by the appellation (in Champagne, this is a minimum of 15 months for non-vintage wines, while Cavas are generally aged for 9 months).
The sediment left behind must then be carefully shifted from the base of the bottle to the neck in a process known as riddling. The bottles are gently tilted and turned throughout a period of several weeks, forcing the sediment down into the mouth of the bottle. The necks are then immersed into a cold, briny solution, thereby freezing the sediment. The caps are removed and the frozen sediment is thrust out of the bottle and discarded (disgorgement). The remaining wine is topped off with a blend of wine and sugar/must (liqueur d?expedition), which impacts the resulting dryness or sweetness of the finished sparkling wine. The final step is the insertion of the cork, which is much denser that those used for still wines given that sparkling wines can be under up to 6 atmospheres of pressure (be careful where you point that thing).
A similar process is used in the transfer method whereby the steps above remain the same with the exception that the sediment is removed in bulk and the wine is then filtered and bottled. Such wines will note that they have been fermented in the bottle, whereas the wines in the previous method are labeled as having been fermented in this bottle. An additional method involves the use of a tank in which the entire secondary fermentation, ageing and disgorgement takes place. While this is of course a much less expensive process than the other two, it is frequently used to produce wines that have a distinct freshness to them such as Astis from the Piedmont region in Italy.
The Champagne region in France has done a good job in marketing itself as a luxury product and this joined with increasing demand, limited supply and expensive processes has pushed up the price on these wines. Vintage sparklers (those produced entirely from grapes grown in a particularly great year) and prestige marquees (i.e. Crystal, Dom Perignon) command even higher prices. However, many sparkling wines from other regions in France (such as Burgundy and the Loire Valley) as well as well-made American, Italian (Asti and Prosecco), Germany (Sekt) and Spain (Cava) can offer the consumer a wonderful experience without the hefty price tag.
Clean and fruity, with apple and toffee character and a hint of papaya. Full-bodied, with good fruit and a lively finish. Catarratto and Chardonnay. Drink now. 20,000 cases made.
As I’ve blogged here many times, I think wineries who are not involved in social media are missing something important. Not only is it less expensive than more traditional outreach, the results are often better from a brand and customer loyalty point of view. What social media gives you is that personal connection with the customer online, like you get in the tasting room.
So I’m going to talk about how wineries can take advantage of blogs, podcasts, wiki’s and social networks on my next trip to California later this month. Although there will be some slides involved, this will not be “death-by-Powerpoint” but an interactive talk in the vein of BarCamp. It’s open to anyone who whats to learn more about social media or who wants to share their learnings. I will prepare about 40 minutes of material and see what develops as we talk about this topic.
If you are interested in attending, just head over to my company wiki and add your name and winery or company. If you no hable wiki then just send me an email at acanmedia (at) gmail (dot) com and I’ll add you to the list.
The seminar will be held from 1:30 p.m. on Tuesday, April 29th at the Sonoma Wine Library in Healdsburg, CA. Here’s a map to the location. Special thanks to Patrick from Iridesse who arranged to get the room reserved and Josh from Pinotblogger for his advice.
Wed Feb 23rd, 2005, Los Angeles Cooking With Friends - SINGLE MEN NEEDED TO COOK Contact Robyn at http://www.dinnerwithfriends.la Wednesday–2/23/05 7:00pm-10:00pm $80.00 Cooking With Friends is back by popular demand and limited to just 12 lucky participants.
The warm days of summer are almost upon us - time to break out the white wine. Versatile as an aperitif and food-friendly, Sauvignon Blanc is as varied in style and complexity as are completely different ... via Well Fed Network
For $11 you should be trying any and all 05 Bordeaux you find; many of them will be bargains.
This one is a pretty plum purple with a wowing bouquet of sweet fruit that if I was blind folded I would say it was a rose with sweet fruity strawberry and cherry aromas.
Palate has some structure with forthright tannins and skimpy fruit that is a bit hollow with charcoals notes. This is just light bodied, easy to drink but is weird since it is 80% Merlot and 20% Cabernet yet tastes like a Beaujolais Cru. It is an easy drinking wine but very weird for Bordeaux. Let this one pass.
Feb 25th-Mar 18th 2005, Cupertino Outside of Bordeaux, Burgundy, and the Rhône Valley lie lesser-known regions that provide exciting wines, which often can be obtained at prices that rival or even beat California wines.
A couple of people asked me what happens when it rains during harvest. As the skies above some of the world's greatest vineyards seem to be dumping unending moisture on the fragile grapes, the questions seems particularly timely.
Water is an important part of the cycle of life. Almost nothing can live without it, and most non aquatic life will drown given too much water. In all things balance, and when it comes to harvesting grapes, less water is better.
Wet bunches of grapes tend to rot. Rot does not add pleasant flavors to wine. Even Nobel Rot (botrytis) which is responsible for the world's great dessert wines is not a good thing for dry wines.
Some grapes tend to have tighter bunches than others, and these are that much more susceptible to rot, since air can not easily get between the berries to dry them out. And air is the key. A few warm windy days following a heavy rain can save a vintage.
Even if the grapes do not rot, they may absorb the water and swell, reducing the intensity of flavors. Picking while it is raining poses a similar danger. Wet grapes add water to your wine.
If a grape swells beyond the skin's ability to contain it, it will burst. Now you have a grape that is exposed to insects and bacteria. The aphorism about bad apples is doubly true for bad grapes. You don't want these grapes in with the rest.
The best defense against the bad grapes, not only those that may have burst, but those that may have been damaged by birds or other animals, is to hand sort. This costly and time consuming procedure is exactly what it sounds like.
Imagine staring at a conveyer belt full of grapes and trying to pick out the bad ones (along with leaves and other non grape materials). Not much fun, incredibly labor intensive and for some wineries difficult or impossible to accomplish.
Even if your grapes survive the rains, the rot, the birds and the bees (ok, yellow jackets) you may have a whole new issue to deal with. Those cloudy cool days kept your grapes from ripening, and now you are faced with the prospect of leaving your grapes out even longer than you intended, just to get that little bit of extra ripening.
The longer your grapes are left out in the field the riper they get to be sure, but also the greater the risk. The later in the season it gets, the greater the chance of frost in some regions, and rain in many others.
Winemakers that find themselves staring at soggy vineyards this week are all posing the same dramatic query. To pick, or not to pick, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler of time to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them.
They may not have to chose between life and death, but for some it may be the financial equivalent. To play it safe and make a lesser quality wine, or to take a chance for better quality and profits. Ay, there's the rub.
Where wine coolers captivated the 80s and microbrews burgeoned in the 90s, vodka is bringing verve and variety to drinking in the new millennium. Strawberry vodka, chocolate vodka, orange, cinnamon and key lime vodkas? Sidle up to any bar in any city and you'll see a sick display of distinct new tastes nestled on the shelf among the Ketel and Grey Goose, ready to splash into an updated Cosmo, Betelgeuse or Tootsie Roll Martini.
Trendy as these specialty vodkas may seem, spice- and herb-infused vodkas have been sating drinkers since the spirit first cracked the ice on frozen Russian and Polish faces several hundred years ago. Back then, flavoring wasn't intended for variety. It was necessary to take the edge off the primitive mash, the intense, harsh taste of which could make even the swarthiest drinker breathe fire.
Later, the ability to craft flavored concoctions became the mark of a skillful distiller. Among those who elevated the practice to an art were the Russians and Poles, who've long marketed dozens of flavored vodkas. Among the most unusual brands in Russia are Okhotnichya or "Hunter's" vodka (flavored with a mix of ginger, cloves, lemon peel, coffee, anise and other herbs and spices, then blended with sugar and a touch of a wine similar to white port) and Zubrovka (vodka flavored with bison grass, an aromatic grass which is the cud of choice for herds of the rare European bison).
Flavored vodkas were slow to reach the mass U.S. market, however. Americans first became hooked on "the white spirit" after World War II, lured by the convenient fact that it had "no taste and no smell" (and could therefore be consumed on the sly). And for decades the classic vodka martini or vodka-tonic suited drinkers just fine. It wasn't until the cocktail craze of the late 90s that the current frenzy for vodka variety took off. Luckily, there are plenty of quality distillers out there to satisfy demand.
Among the first to tempt our palates with readily available flavored vodkas were Absolut and Stolichnaya. Absolut entered this niche market in 1986 with its Peppar, an aromatic, complex and spicy vodka that gets its kick from the spicy components in the capsicum pepper family and from fresh green jalapeņo pepper. They later added Absolut Citron, Kurant and Mandarin. The newest twist to the Absolut line? Absolut Vanilia, which has a rich, robust and complex taste of vanilla, with notes of butterscotch and hints of dark chocolate. Its scheduled release is this spring.
Stoli was also an early marketer of laced libations, luring many drinkers to the pleasures of flavored vodkas with its Vodka Razberi (made with ripe raspberries), Vodka Vanilla (with the pure essence of Madagascan and Indonesian vanilla beans) and Vodka Zinamon (infused with the zip of cinnamon).
The success of the Absolut and Stoli creations gave rise to a new generation of cocktail concoctions and inspired other distillers to create fresh and unexpected varieties. Among those most likely to turn up at your local watering hole are the infusions of Charbay, which uses fresh fruit to create blood orange, ruby red grapefruit and key lime vodkas; Burnett's, which offers sour apple (great in an Appletini), coconut, raspberry, orange, citrus and vanilla; the artistically designed Vincent Van Gogh Vodkas, whose varieties include Chocolate, Oranje, Vanilla, Raspberry, Wild Appel and Citroen; and OP, a 70- proof Swedish vodka flavored with ginger, orange and peach, and spiced with anise, fennel and caraway.
A newcomer to the flavored vodka scene is Hangar One, a small, quality distiller that uses real fruit and "rare and expensive" ingredients to produce its Buddha's Hand Citron, Kaffir Lime and Mandarin Blossom vodkas. Luscious straight up, these fruit-laced spirits can also be the inspiration for cocktails to die for.
Should a Cosmo with Burnett's Blood Orange Vodka or a Sunflower Martini with Vincent Van Gogh's Raspberry seem too traditional, frighten your drinking companions by ordering up a shot of Blavod, a smooth-tasting vodka colored black by the catcchu herb. While it looks like The Dark Prince's drink of choice, Blavod is surprisingly refreshing in a Black Bull (ice, Red Bull and Blavod) or a Sundance (ice, blue curacoa, soda water and Blavod).
Another far-out blend is Feigling, a fig-infused vodka that comes in a little bottle from Germany. Served straight or with a little tonic and a twist, Feigling is a unique taste and sure to throw a little variety into your drinking repertoire.
If you?re lucky enough to find them, don't pass up a chance to try the Polish Wisent, flavored with a species of bison grass that grows only in the Bialowieska Forest (acknowledged to be the last primeval forest left in Europe), or the Ukrainian Soomska Horobynova (flavored with ashberry) and Soomska Horilka Pryhodko (flavored with St. John's Wort, Buffalo Grass, coriander and lemon).
So your local bar thinks Absolut Kurant is the cutting-edge of flavors? You can still experiment with new ventures in vodka. Roll up your sleeves and concoct your own unique libations. Begin with a quality vodka. While "quality" is in the taste buds of the drinker, general wisdom holds that you?ll get better results and suffer fewer day-after side effects if you stick to a bottle in the $20-and-up range. Purchase anything under seven bucks to use in your infusion and you'll waste culinary effort as well as brain cells.
Recipe for Infusion
The process by which vodkas are flavored is called infusion. This is a fancy word for mixing stuff with vodka and letting it soak. Unless otherwise directed by a recipe, infuse your vodkas at room t
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