Christmas in the Heart
By Bob Dylan
Clue #1: Clipart cover, showing a horse-drawn sleigh.
Clue #2: Once getting the damn CD case open, the first thing to greet your eyes is bosomy pin-up girl Bettie Page, done up in naughty-girl Christmas lingerie.
Clue # 3: The album starts with jingle bells and a ‘50s style chorus humming. Then the man himself starts to warble (or is it wobble?) ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’. Yes, Bob Dylan has indeed recorded a Christmas album, and it feels like it fell right out of a late 1950s Christmas stocking.
“Christmas in the Heart” is Dylan’s light romp through 15 Christmas nuggets (couldn’t he have written at least one newbie?). And while it will certainly put a smile on your face, it may also leave you wondering; Is this a joke? Dylan’s attempt at sounding like Andy Williams? Or some kind of corny nostalgia?
Produced by Dylan (aka Jack Frost) the arrangements, with one notable exception, are utterly –if not miserably- conventional, circa 1959. It’s as if he had knocked Connie Francis off her stool, and took over behind the microphone for this recording session. The simpy chorus, chimes, bells, strings, all working across an o-so-standard Christmas oeuvre (no, please, not ‘Little Drummer Boy!’). Occasionally a slide guitar, or fiddle sparkles, but by and large, Christmas cookie-cutter stuff.
The exception comes by way of a lively zydeco take on ‘Must be Santa,’ a wonderful ode to the polka roots of the song. And it gives the album its one real juicy bounce.
And yet, the remaining songs are far from dull. It’s just a little weird to hear Dylan singing ‘Adeste Fideles.’
Sometimes he sounds a little too stodgy, almost self-righteous, on songs like ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing,’ and ‘The First Noel.’ But on most tunes, he’s loose and personal, in particular ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’, ‘Christmas Island’, and ‘Winter Wonderland’. And his growl is perfect for the Dean Martin vehicle, ‘The Christmas Blues.’
And by time Dylan gets to ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire,’ we’re convinced he really does fancy himself a crooner.
Crooner? With that voice? Croaking, bucket-of-gravel, straining, nasal, weird phrasing. And when he sustains a note, especially in the (relatively) upper range, it’s like he’s trying to hold a blob of jello in his fist, and it keeps jiggling through his fingers. Typical Dylan of the last ten years -you can’t listen to him without wanting to clear your throat.
It reminds me of the (apocryphal) story circulating of Dylan playing guitar and singing for one of his grandchildren’s kindergarten classes, and being asked by parents to stop it, because he was scaring the kids.
“Christmas in the Heart” is definitely not scary. It’s a pretty, simple, standard set of obvious Christmas tunes, sung by a crusty old folkie. And amazingly, it works, in a time-warp, where’d that come from, sort of way.
Is it a joke? If so, Dylan plays it straight-faced, and with absolutely no sense of irony (or, is that the ironic part?). Who knows, maybe he is nostalgic. If not, as Joan Baez says, ‘give me another word for it.’
Might not be the kind of thing you want to listen to over and over again, but us diehard Dylan fans will welcome it into our collection. In any case, there’s an antidote. After a couple times through, put on Andy Williams’ Christmas album, or Connie Francis’.
They still put a smile on my face.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
No Paycheck, No Wine
Despite what Bernanke says, we’re still in a recession, folks. Lookit me, still out of work. Soup-line Mayfield, they call me.
Yes, us wine writers have been forced to scavenge among the blogger’s discount racks, relying on our feral wits, our savage cunning, and slender pocketbooks. That’s why I go shopping at Whole Paycheck. Ha, ha, no really, even the most pricey of stores has some bargains to offer.
Observe the Cameron, 2008 Cameroni Delle Colline Rosse Giovanni Vigna Pinot Bianco, $10, a delicious, refreshing, crisp white wine. I’m not a betting man, but I could swear I taste (and smell!) some Muscat in here. Okay, actually I’m cheating, I happen to know that in previous years, John Paul has put a small percentage of Muscat in his Pinot Bianco to bring up the flavors, and tweak the aromas. We’ll assume that’s the case here. And at $10? Throw all the Muscat you want in it.
Patty Green is doing the Bernanke Shuffle as well, releasing the Dollar Bills Only, 2008 Oregon Sauvignon Blanc, $10. This puppy’s got plenty of SOB tang, acidity, but weirdly, it’s also a fairly rich wine, body-wise. Flavors are a bit muddled, some citrus, melon, pear, and, hey, it may sound like I’m dissing the wine, but no way. Very tasty, just not classic (Loire, NZ) Sauv B., and certainly without the aggressive grassiness of Willamette Valley fruit. In fact, note the ‘Oregon’ designation, maybe the grapes come from somewhere warmer. Like Roseburg? Applegate? Could be.
All well and good, Monsieur Blog Dawg, you say, but what about red wine? What about Pinot Noir, eh? Well, hang in there, Pierre, or should I say Gunther, and check out the Two Worlds, NV Bi-Continental Pinot Noir, $15. Germany’s Dr. Loosen and Oregon’s J. Christopher got together for this mash-up.
Typically, I would say, a German Pinot Noir is going to be fairly lean and spicy, while Oregon Pinot Noir is more opulent, lush. What happens when you slam the two together?
Well, in this case the result is a lean, spicy, wine with bright acidity. My first guess was, it’s dominated by German fruit. I don’t get the luscious cherry, plum flavors of Oregon. And that’s fine. If I’m sitting on Frankfurt’s Romer Platz, this is a perfectly representative Pinot. Downtown McMinnville? Not so much.
It was only after this consideration that I examined the label and found the blend is 90% German, 10% Oregon. Okay, that explains that.
Now excuse me, while I go dumpster diving for some Bratwursts to match with this wine.
Yes, us wine writers have been forced to scavenge among the blogger’s discount racks, relying on our feral wits, our savage cunning, and slender pocketbooks. That’s why I go shopping at Whole Paycheck. Ha, ha, no really, even the most pricey of stores has some bargains to offer.
Observe the Cameron, 2008 Cameroni Delle Colline Rosse Giovanni Vigna Pinot Bianco, $10, a delicious, refreshing, crisp white wine. I’m not a betting man, but I could swear I taste (and smell!) some Muscat in here. Okay, actually I’m cheating, I happen to know that in previous years, John Paul has put a small percentage of Muscat in his Pinot Bianco to bring up the flavors, and tweak the aromas. We’ll assume that’s the case here. And at $10? Throw all the Muscat you want in it.
Patty Green is doing the Bernanke Shuffle as well, releasing the Dollar Bills Only, 2008 Oregon Sauvignon Blanc, $10. This puppy’s got plenty of SOB tang, acidity, but weirdly, it’s also a fairly rich wine, body-wise. Flavors are a bit muddled, some citrus, melon, pear, and, hey, it may sound like I’m dissing the wine, but no way. Very tasty, just not classic (Loire, NZ) Sauv B., and certainly without the aggressive grassiness of Willamette Valley fruit. In fact, note the ‘Oregon’ designation, maybe the grapes come from somewhere warmer. Like Roseburg? Applegate? Could be.
All well and good, Monsieur Blog Dawg, you say, but what about red wine? What about Pinot Noir, eh? Well, hang in there, Pierre, or should I say Gunther, and check out the Two Worlds, NV Bi-Continental Pinot Noir, $15. Germany’s Dr. Loosen and Oregon’s J. Christopher got together for this mash-up.
Typically, I would say, a German Pinot Noir is going to be fairly lean and spicy, while Oregon Pinot Noir is more opulent, lush. What happens when you slam the two together?
Well, in this case the result is a lean, spicy, wine with bright acidity. My first guess was, it’s dominated by German fruit. I don’t get the luscious cherry, plum flavors of Oregon. And that’s fine. If I’m sitting on Frankfurt’s Romer Platz, this is a perfectly representative Pinot. Downtown McMinnville? Not so much.
It was only after this consideration that I examined the label and found the blend is 90% German, 10% Oregon. Okay, that explains that.
Now excuse me, while I go dumpster diving for some Bratwursts to match with this wine.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Scrubs
A white coyote lopes by. A scrub jay squawks and zips out of the hazelnut tree. A couple tiny finches alight upon a branch of the Asian pear tree, but the two of them together are so gravity-challenged, they barely set the branch to jouncing. A rabbit scampers into the vineyard. Then scampers back out. A robin pokes its beak into the ground. Missing the worm. The scrub jay swoops back into the hazelnut tree.
Ah, September on Spudders Crest. The waning days of summer, closing in on Autumn. Quiet days filled with nature’s wonders, the serenity punctuated only by a maniac sprinting across the yard, shouting and clapping his hands together furiously. The maniac? That would be me. Chasing off that scrub jay. Little bastard.
Time to drag out the talk radio.
I have no idea what is up with scrub (and occasionally the ill-named stellar) jays, but they like to steal my nuts. There’s a lone hazelnut tree in our backyard, visible from my upstairs window, and for some peculiar reason, just as the nuts are about ripe, jays swoop into the tree, steal a pair of nuts (hazelnuts most often come in pairs), fly up into the huge maple tree, and realizing there’s nothing else to do with the nuts, drop them. And then bitter gall, they return to steal more nuts.
I just don’t understand. It took me a while to even realize what was going on. Our first couple years on Spudders Crest, we got very few hazelnuts. I just thought, o well, tough luck. Then one year I noticed them, jays, stealing the nuts. Beatrice informed me, at the base of the maple tree, where she often played, were dozens of scattered hazelnuts. Unripe.
So whenever a jay swooped into our tree, I banged pie tins, clapped hands, screamed, and threw Asian pears at them. Which is not a good idea, as throwing pears just knocks off more nuts.
And then last year, as I realized that shouting was a sufficient deterrent, it occurred to me, I could put a radio beneath the tree, crank it up really loud, scare off the bastards. My first experiment failed, as I tuned the radio to KMHD, jazz. Except for the occasional squalling sax solo, the jays were unperturbed. So then I tried ESPN –sports talk radio. That did the trick. Especially early in the morning, with Colin Cowherd. He scares the bejeebers out of jays. They sit quivering in the maple tree, shielding their beady little eyes behind a wing. The bunch of bozos that follow Cowherd are all full of noise and fury, signifying nothing. And the jays hate them.
Dan Patrick, on the other hand, just bores them to death. I saw one literally fall out of the tree in a stone cold trance.
There is one ill side effect to this cure –I have to listen to that shit all day. I never realized Western Civilization was in such jeopardy until I was forced to listen to this trash. Whining, squawking, bitching, haranguing, boasting, fulminating -all in the name of sports?! You can hear the minds of testosterone charged males all over America turning to mush.
The two local goons who finish off the day are appropriately loathsome, but it’s Cowherd who remains the pinnacle of madness. Which is fine, because he comes on in the morning when the jays, after a couple cups of espresso, are at their most active and annoying. They come swooping down at the hazelnut tree, and Cowherd barks out one of his moronic sputters, and like hitting Sue Storm’s invisible shield, they bounce off and fly away.
All the while, I suffer in silence. Hour after hour, day after day, praying and hoping that the hazelnuts will hurry up and ripen, so I can turn off the radio.
Relax. And wait for the starlings to dip into my vineyard. Little bastards.
Ah, September on Spudders Crest. The waning days of summer, closing in on Autumn. Quiet days filled with nature’s wonders, the serenity punctuated only by a maniac sprinting across the yard, shouting and clapping his hands together furiously. The maniac? That would be me. Chasing off that scrub jay. Little bastard.
Time to drag out the talk radio.
I have no idea what is up with scrub (and occasionally the ill-named stellar) jays, but they like to steal my nuts. There’s a lone hazelnut tree in our backyard, visible from my upstairs window, and for some peculiar reason, just as the nuts are about ripe, jays swoop into the tree, steal a pair of nuts (hazelnuts most often come in pairs), fly up into the huge maple tree, and realizing there’s nothing else to do with the nuts, drop them. And then bitter gall, they return to steal more nuts.
I just don’t understand. It took me a while to even realize what was going on. Our first couple years on Spudders Crest, we got very few hazelnuts. I just thought, o well, tough luck. Then one year I noticed them, jays, stealing the nuts. Beatrice informed me, at the base of the maple tree, where she often played, were dozens of scattered hazelnuts. Unripe.
So whenever a jay swooped into our tree, I banged pie tins, clapped hands, screamed, and threw Asian pears at them. Which is not a good idea, as throwing pears just knocks off more nuts.
And then last year, as I realized that shouting was a sufficient deterrent, it occurred to me, I could put a radio beneath the tree, crank it up really loud, scare off the bastards. My first experiment failed, as I tuned the radio to KMHD, jazz. Except for the occasional squalling sax solo, the jays were unperturbed. So then I tried ESPN –sports talk radio. That did the trick. Especially early in the morning, with Colin Cowherd. He scares the bejeebers out of jays. They sit quivering in the maple tree, shielding their beady little eyes behind a wing. The bunch of bozos that follow Cowherd are all full of noise and fury, signifying nothing. And the jays hate them.
Dan Patrick, on the other hand, just bores them to death. I saw one literally fall out of the tree in a stone cold trance.
There is one ill side effect to this cure –I have to listen to that shit all day. I never realized Western Civilization was in such jeopardy until I was forced to listen to this trash. Whining, squawking, bitching, haranguing, boasting, fulminating -all in the name of sports?! You can hear the minds of testosterone charged males all over America turning to mush.
The two local goons who finish off the day are appropriately loathsome, but it’s Cowherd who remains the pinnacle of madness. Which is fine, because he comes on in the morning when the jays, after a couple cups of espresso, are at their most active and annoying. They come swooping down at the hazelnut tree, and Cowherd barks out one of his moronic sputters, and like hitting Sue Storm’s invisible shield, they bounce off and fly away.
All the while, I suffer in silence. Hour after hour, day after day, praying and hoping that the hazelnuts will hurry up and ripen, so I can turn off the radio.
Relax. And wait for the starlings to dip into my vineyard. Little bastards.
Monday, August 31, 2009
It's Not the Heat, It's the Humility
I was frying an egg on my coconut the other day, weighing my options; over-easy, or sunny side up?
Thanks to a persistent Hungarian heritage, my flat skillet head makes such breakfast choices possible. Though, this was late-afternoon, with temps hitting 99 degrees. Not exactly bacon and eggs time.
However, the BTUs emanating from my stove-pipe were less from the scorching heat than the assault on my palate from an over-oaked Chardonnay, a wine I was sipping in hopes of cooling down the system. But, chard-no-way.
I will neither insult nor flatter the producer of this atrocity by divulging its name, but only say it hails from a state known for over-oaked Chardonnays (rhymes with ‘shall-I-mourn-ya’).
So, there I was, egg on my face, fuming, when I realized I had the means, within reach, to thermo-regulate; in the person of Kramer Vineyards, 2006 Dijon Clone Chardonnay, $16. What a delightful rebound. As with vintages past, I pretend to detect a bit of Chassagne-Montrachet in this wine. That is to say, light and lean texture, with lemon, green apple, and pine nut flavors. And yes, okay, there’s some spicy oak, but restrained. In comparison, anyway.
Compared to what? Well, Les McCann, try to make it real with the Chateau St. Jean, 2007 Belle Terre Vineyard Chardonnay, $25. After picking the splinters from my tongue, I scribbled notes of butterscotch and caramel (New Oak!). But once you wiggle your sensory percepts between the shards of wood, you will find some elegance in texture, and pretty citrus notes. Nice stuff.
Speaking of white Burgundy (Chassagne-Montrachet), longtime readers of this blog (hahahaha) will remember (keep scrolling down, Baby!), that I often extol the virtues of Saint-Aubin, great wines at (relatively) low prices. And the Louis Jadot, 2005 St. Aubin, $40 is exceptional. Note the vintage. From most any other wine region, a Chardonnay of this age would be on the slippery slope downhill, if not already toast. But, dude, this is Burgundy, and the wine is just coming into its prime. Big, rich, yet austere and elegant. Brr. Gun. Dee.
While we can stand in awe of the above wines, let us admit, they’re high-falutin’, with higher falutin’ price tags. What if yr just hanging out, chillin’ with yr home skillet? Take a step down to a nice, simple refreshing wine, the Cupcake, 2008 Yakima Valley Riesling, $14. Nothing to ponder over, no lofty exaltations, just a nice humble wine. It’s the perfect expression of Washington fruit, more apple than apricot, more rich than lean, and plenty tasty. Chill.
And as for those 99 degree temps? Well, vanished, vamoosed, gone. Which means, the yolk is on me.
Thanks to a persistent Hungarian heritage, my flat skillet head makes such breakfast choices possible. Though, this was late-afternoon, with temps hitting 99 degrees. Not exactly bacon and eggs time.
However, the BTUs emanating from my stove-pipe were less from the scorching heat than the assault on my palate from an over-oaked Chardonnay, a wine I was sipping in hopes of cooling down the system. But, chard-no-way.
I will neither insult nor flatter the producer of this atrocity by divulging its name, but only say it hails from a state known for over-oaked Chardonnays (rhymes with ‘shall-I-mourn-ya’).
So, there I was, egg on my face, fuming, when I realized I had the means, within reach, to thermo-regulate; in the person of Kramer Vineyards, 2006 Dijon Clone Chardonnay, $16. What a delightful rebound. As with vintages past, I pretend to detect a bit of Chassagne-Montrachet in this wine. That is to say, light and lean texture, with lemon, green apple, and pine nut flavors. And yes, okay, there’s some spicy oak, but restrained. In comparison, anyway.
Compared to what? Well, Les McCann, try to make it real with the Chateau St. Jean, 2007 Belle Terre Vineyard Chardonnay, $25. After picking the splinters from my tongue, I scribbled notes of butterscotch and caramel (New Oak!). But once you wiggle your sensory percepts between the shards of wood, you will find some elegance in texture, and pretty citrus notes. Nice stuff.
Speaking of white Burgundy (Chassagne-Montrachet), longtime readers of this blog (hahahaha) will remember (keep scrolling down, Baby!), that I often extol the virtues of Saint-Aubin, great wines at (relatively) low prices. And the Louis Jadot, 2005 St. Aubin, $40 is exceptional. Note the vintage. From most any other wine region, a Chardonnay of this age would be on the slippery slope downhill, if not already toast. But, dude, this is Burgundy, and the wine is just coming into its prime. Big, rich, yet austere and elegant. Brr. Gun. Dee.
While we can stand in awe of the above wines, let us admit, they’re high-falutin’, with higher falutin’ price tags. What if yr just hanging out, chillin’ with yr home skillet? Take a step down to a nice, simple refreshing wine, the Cupcake, 2008 Yakima Valley Riesling, $14. Nothing to ponder over, no lofty exaltations, just a nice humble wine. It’s the perfect expression of Washington fruit, more apple than apricot, more rich than lean, and plenty tasty. Chill.
And as for those 99 degree temps? Well, vanished, vamoosed, gone. Which means, the yolk is on me.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Backblog
E-mail, Facebook, blogging, Kindling, texting, and now Twittering –I have all the e-neurological diseases.
And why? Hey, dude, I’m networking (the host disease for which all these other things are merely symptoms). But what the heck am I ‘networking’? Myself? My wine writing? The Ridgefield Farmers Market? All the above.
I text people to get them to my tweets, which draws them to Facebook, so that they’ll find my blog, where they’ll stumble upon my Kindle (‘A Ruminant on Spudders Crest; Part I’), which they’ll buy, and I’ll become rich and famous, and every newspaper editor in the country will clamor for me to return as wine columnist. But I’ll tell them, nah, I’d rather run the farmers market.
Where I can tell people about this, my blog.
And I know, as some have pointed out this has lain dormant for about two months. I’ve got my excuses –Amsterdam, Bruges, Brussels, Paris, returning to a wildly overgrown vineyard, moving from Bellwood Heights back to Spudders Crest, unpacking, starting a farmers market, running the kids to piano, clarinet, tennis, soccer, basketball, volleyball, bottling a lovely viognier, and a somewhat less lovely Rosato Negra- phew!
Forget all that. I’m back. So, both feet, let’s jump in. Starting with Pinot Gris, a wonderful summertime wine, and specifically the Kramer Vineyards, 2007 Oregon Pinot Gris, $15. Apropos of the vintage, this is a lean, almost minerally version, with pretty peachy flavors and just a touch of grassiness. In fact, close your eyes and you might imagine a Sauvignon Blanc (hey, Trudy, ever thought of doing a Sauv B?). Very refreshing, and a nice food wine, with say, shellfish, or –how about vineyard designated dolmas.
Next up, from King Estate, Next. Yup, Next is the Washington label from the Eugene area winery, and the Next, 2008 Washington Riesling, $12, is the perfect expression of Washington fruit. It’s a rich and succulent wine, with floral and lemony aromas, and flavors of lime, lemon, and a note of apricot, with justajustajusta hint of RS (that is, residual sugar). Miss the acidity? Me too, but it’s sure a luscious wine.
And now, back to Pinot Gris, and its finest expression; Alsace. Don’t get me wrong, I love Oregon Pinot Gris, and when I’m not in a grumpy mood you might even catch me saying something nice about Italian Pinot Grigio. But frankly, Alsace is where it’s at.
Witness the superb Lucien Albrecht, 2008 Cuvee Romanus Pinot Gris, $19. The rich, viscous texture alone conjures up visions of the vine carpeted hills of Alsace. Bursting with flavors of pear, apple, brown spice, with lingering notes of citrus in the background, this comes on strong, and yet there is finesse, a subtlety about it. How do dey do dat? O, forty-year old vines might help.
Extra bonus wine: Lucien Albrecht, NV Brut Blanc de Blancs Cremant d’Alsace, $20. If I could afford it (go Kindle, go!), this would become our house bubbly. Furious bubble action, fine, creamy texture (this is a cremant?!), lovely apple aromas and flavors. De Wine is Divine.
Lucien Albrecht rocks!
And why? Hey, dude, I’m networking (the host disease for which all these other things are merely symptoms). But what the heck am I ‘networking’? Myself? My wine writing? The Ridgefield Farmers Market? All the above.
I text people to get them to my tweets, which draws them to Facebook, so that they’ll find my blog, where they’ll stumble upon my Kindle (‘A Ruminant on Spudders Crest; Part I’), which they’ll buy, and I’ll become rich and famous, and every newspaper editor in the country will clamor for me to return as wine columnist. But I’ll tell them, nah, I’d rather run the farmers market.
Where I can tell people about this, my blog.
And I know, as some have pointed out this has lain dormant for about two months. I’ve got my excuses –Amsterdam, Bruges, Brussels, Paris, returning to a wildly overgrown vineyard, moving from Bellwood Heights back to Spudders Crest, unpacking, starting a farmers market, running the kids to piano, clarinet, tennis, soccer, basketball, volleyball, bottling a lovely viognier, and a somewhat less lovely Rosato Negra- phew!
Forget all that. I’m back. So, both feet, let’s jump in. Starting with Pinot Gris, a wonderful summertime wine, and specifically the Kramer Vineyards, 2007 Oregon Pinot Gris, $15. Apropos of the vintage, this is a lean, almost minerally version, with pretty peachy flavors and just a touch of grassiness. In fact, close your eyes and you might imagine a Sauvignon Blanc (hey, Trudy, ever thought of doing a Sauv B?). Very refreshing, and a nice food wine, with say, shellfish, or –how about vineyard designated dolmas.
Next up, from King Estate, Next. Yup, Next is the Washington label from the Eugene area winery, and the Next, 2008 Washington Riesling, $12, is the perfect expression of Washington fruit. It’s a rich and succulent wine, with floral and lemony aromas, and flavors of lime, lemon, and a note of apricot, with justajustajusta hint of RS (that is, residual sugar). Miss the acidity? Me too, but it’s sure a luscious wine.
And now, back to Pinot Gris, and its finest expression; Alsace. Don’t get me wrong, I love Oregon Pinot Gris, and when I’m not in a grumpy mood you might even catch me saying something nice about Italian Pinot Grigio. But frankly, Alsace is where it’s at.
Witness the superb Lucien Albrecht, 2008 Cuvee Romanus Pinot Gris, $19. The rich, viscous texture alone conjures up visions of the vine carpeted hills of Alsace. Bursting with flavors of pear, apple, brown spice, with lingering notes of citrus in the background, this comes on strong, and yet there is finesse, a subtlety about it. How do dey do dat? O, forty-year old vines might help.
Extra bonus wine: Lucien Albrecht, NV Brut Blanc de Blancs Cremant d’Alsace, $20. If I could afford it (go Kindle, go!), this would become our house bubbly. Furious bubble action, fine, creamy texture (this is a cremant?!), lovely apple aromas and flavors. De Wine is Divine.
Lucien Albrecht rocks!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Hemingway's Notebook -Found!
Last night I lifted up a copy of The Three Musketeers from my night stand, and there it was; my review of King Estate, 2007 Domaine Oregon Pinot Gris, $25.
No way anyone would remember this, but some months ago I wrote about this wine, all the while admitting I’d lost my tasting notes (okay, Anthony Broadbent I am not).
And so just like Groucho finding his steak (a joke for those who tweet -you can find me under ‘wineiconoclast’, natch), shazam, there were my post-it notes with this sterling review: ‘peach, spice, lean, good acidity, lemon, a food wine through and through. Tremendous balance, with flavors, acidity, structure, all rowing together for a one great joy ride.’ (Also noted this on the flip side of the page, ‘the Wreckonomy’-hmm, must’ve been in a weird mood that night).
And now that that mystery is cleared up, I have yet a more current review, and guess what –no tasting notes. You know why? We had this Clos du Chateau, 2005 Viré-Clessé, $25, the other night with dinner and it was so awesome, I couldn’t stop raving, not even long enough to reach for a pen. Rich, succulent, big, busting with flavor. So good, who needs tasting notes?
I only discovered Viré-Clessé, a region in Burgundy’s Macon, when dining at a one-star in Tournus some years ago. I bought several bottles over there, and every now and again I’ll find a Viré-Clessé stateside, and for old time sake, purchase it. The grape is Chardonnay, and typically lean, and crisp, a big step-up from Macon-Villages. But this one is so incredibly explosive it’s in a different universe. Availability? Well, I got this in San Diego, and skate-boarding the web I can’t find any reference to it here in the Northwest. So you might have to hop a flight south (or way east) to find it.
Okay, let’s venture out into the middle of the muddle that is my vineyard. After a slow start (I didn’t do my first spray until May 20, almost a month after bud-break), suddenly we had two weeks of uninterrupted great weather, mostly in the 80s every day, and suddenly -Wow! the vines went nuts. Not only that, but this is by far the best opening salvo to a growing season I’ve ever seen. Every shoot has at least two clusters (one has 4!), and they’re beautiful, well-formed, and already verging on bloom.
And then the bad news; just as predictions of thunderstorms were seeping in, I did my second spray, and wisely added a fungicide to the mix. Then all day yesterday we had some faint mist, hardly a sprinkle, but it worried me all the same, as temps were in the 80s. Wet, heat -sure fire recipe for mildew. And then last evening, right at about 5:30, it hit. Torrential downpour.
All of this will probably revise my spray schedule, as we shift into a different gear once bloom comes, and with higher mildew pressure, and all of this on top of the fact I’m heading for Europe in a week, makes everything a little trickier.
Sure wish we had those dry, 80 degree days back.
Finally, let’s return to Groucho, The Three Musketeers, and tomato slices. One might wonder why it took several months for me to find my review of Pinot Gris. Well, truth is, I’m not getting on very well with The Three Musketeers. Pretty much a romance/swashbuckling novel, that, despite its girth, is exceedingly light weight. So I only read it sporadically. And just as I’m about to doze off.
That, and I’m not exactly Anthony Broadbent.
No way anyone would remember this, but some months ago I wrote about this wine, all the while admitting I’d lost my tasting notes (okay, Anthony Broadbent I am not).
And so just like Groucho finding his steak (a joke for those who tweet -you can find me under ‘wineiconoclast’, natch), shazam, there were my post-it notes with this sterling review: ‘peach, spice, lean, good acidity, lemon, a food wine through and through. Tremendous balance, with flavors, acidity, structure, all rowing together for a one great joy ride.’ (Also noted this on the flip side of the page, ‘the Wreckonomy’-hmm, must’ve been in a weird mood that night).
And now that that mystery is cleared up, I have yet a more current review, and guess what –no tasting notes. You know why? We had this Clos du Chateau, 2005 Viré-Clessé, $25, the other night with dinner and it was so awesome, I couldn’t stop raving, not even long enough to reach for a pen. Rich, succulent, big, busting with flavor. So good, who needs tasting notes?
I only discovered Viré-Clessé, a region in Burgundy’s Macon, when dining at a one-star in Tournus some years ago. I bought several bottles over there, and every now and again I’ll find a Viré-Clessé stateside, and for old time sake, purchase it. The grape is Chardonnay, and typically lean, and crisp, a big step-up from Macon-Villages. But this one is so incredibly explosive it’s in a different universe. Availability? Well, I got this in San Diego, and skate-boarding the web I can’t find any reference to it here in the Northwest. So you might have to hop a flight south (or way east) to find it.
Okay, let’s venture out into the middle of the muddle that is my vineyard. After a slow start (I didn’t do my first spray until May 20, almost a month after bud-break), suddenly we had two weeks of uninterrupted great weather, mostly in the 80s every day, and suddenly -Wow! the vines went nuts. Not only that, but this is by far the best opening salvo to a growing season I’ve ever seen. Every shoot has at least two clusters (one has 4!), and they’re beautiful, well-formed, and already verging on bloom.
And then the bad news; just as predictions of thunderstorms were seeping in, I did my second spray, and wisely added a fungicide to the mix. Then all day yesterday we had some faint mist, hardly a sprinkle, but it worried me all the same, as temps were in the 80s. Wet, heat -sure fire recipe for mildew. And then last evening, right at about 5:30, it hit. Torrential downpour.
All of this will probably revise my spray schedule, as we shift into a different gear once bloom comes, and with higher mildew pressure, and all of this on top of the fact I’m heading for Europe in a week, makes everything a little trickier.
Sure wish we had those dry, 80 degree days back.
Finally, let’s return to Groucho, The Three Musketeers, and tomato slices. One might wonder why it took several months for me to find my review of Pinot Gris. Well, truth is, I’m not getting on very well with The Three Musketeers. Pretty much a romance/swashbuckling novel, that, despite its girth, is exceedingly light weight. So I only read it sporadically. And just as I’m about to doze off.
That, and I’m not exactly Anthony Broadbent.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Feeling the Bleus
(The following post was supposed to end up on my WordPress site, but for some reason -stupidity?- I can't get on my own web page. So here it is.)
I’ve been feeling kinda bleu lately, so I thought I’d have some wine to cheer me up.
Okay, cheesy opening, but fitting, as my bleu-ness comes not from ennui, but from the likes of Roquefort, St. Agur, Stilton, Shropshire, Gorgonzola, and Oregonzola. Great cheeses all.
And, as I was entering the final episode of a three-part class on pairing cheese and wine, I wanted to go out on a high note. With blue cheese.
As per usual, whenever I go to round-up cheeses for a class, the array of choices is nearly paralyzing. But eventually I pared it down to these four: St. Agur and Shropshire, both from Freddies. And Herve Mons Persillé Chevre du Beaujolais, and Neal’s Yard Stilton Colston Bassett, both from Whole Foods. And as back-up, Société Roquefort, Oregonzola, and Blue d’Auvergne, none of which we got to.
They weren’t needed. Because, aside from the cheeses by themselves, Mary Karen made a Roquamole. And just to show off the versatility of blue cheese, I whipped up an incredible (no brag, just fact) Gorgonzola Cheesecake.
Mary Karen followed this Nigella Lawson recipe, and it was awesome. For my recipe, cf. below.
So, what wines match well with blue cheese? Well, the authorities claim either a big muscle red, or, in a complete spin-about, a sweet dessert wine. Let’s start with muscle, in the form of Twisted, 2007 California Old Vine Zinfandel, $8. Now, I’m not a big fan of California Zin, in particular, this style. Overblown, sweet, all flash, no subtlety. And yes, I know, this is the style (and price) that many people love. To be perfectly fair, it was a good match with the St. Agur, and the Shropshire. It did, however, turn that Herve Mons into a bitter hunk of mold.
Primitivo may be the same grape as Zinfandel, but it’s not the same wine. Italians prefer food friendly wines, and tend to pick grapes earlier, leaving a bit of acidity, and giving the wine some leanness and earthiness. Perfect example, the Caleo, 2005 Salento Primitivo, $9. To highlight the difference, the Caleo is 13% alc., while the Twisted is 14%. All of which adds up to the Primitivo faring much better all around with the cheeses. Especially with the Herve Mons and the Stilton.
But then you go back to 15% alcohol with the Napa Cellars, 2006 Napa Valley Zinfandel, $22, a big robust wine, with bright berry and cigar box aromas, and sweet berry/cherry flavors, almost Port-like. While a far better wine than the Twisted (commensurate with the price difference!), it drew almost the same results when paired with the cheeses. Okay, but not great.
And then a real treat, Alison, god love her, brought a bottle that had been hiding in her cellar for a long time, the Viansa, 2002 Sonoma County Cabernet Sauvignon, ??, and it was terrific. Starting with the simple fact it was perfectly aged. All the raw, gangly, aggressive notes of a young Cab are sanded down, and smoothed out. Still plenty of tannin though, indicating it still has some aging potential. But for our purposes, it was wonderful with all four cheeses.
And then the big cliché -o yawn- Sauternes and blue cheese. Of course it’s going to work! Isn’t it? Well, let’s start with the fact the Chateau de Cosse, 2005 Sauternes, $26, is a marvelous wine –rich, flavorful, earthy. I’m not even going to bother with superlatives. So good, one of our tasters, Dan, insisted that it was a terrible match with the cheese, because nothing you put in your mouth could pair with the intensity and succulence of this wine.
I certainly sympathize with Dan’s point (just drink the damn wine!), but the other side (mine), it was truly remarkable with all four cheeses. I use a 4-point system (my own private voodoo) and the match with St. Agur got 4 ½ points. Can’t get any better than that.
What about that other cliché -Port and blue cheese? Well, we had a little snafu, as two of us each thought the other was bringing a Port, and it turned out neither of us did. But wait a minute, I still have that Roquefort, Oregonzola, and Bleu d’Auvergne waiting in the wings…reason for another class?
I’ve been feeling kinda bleu lately, so I thought I’d have some wine to cheer me up.
Okay, cheesy opening, but fitting, as my bleu-ness comes not from ennui, but from the likes of Roquefort, St. Agur, Stilton, Shropshire, Gorgonzola, and Oregonzola. Great cheeses all.
And, as I was entering the final episode of a three-part class on pairing cheese and wine, I wanted to go out on a high note. With blue cheese.
As per usual, whenever I go to round-up cheeses for a class, the array of choices is nearly paralyzing. But eventually I pared it down to these four: St. Agur and Shropshire, both from Freddies. And Herve Mons Persillé Chevre du Beaujolais, and Neal’s Yard Stilton Colston Bassett, both from Whole Foods. And as back-up, Société Roquefort, Oregonzola, and Blue d’Auvergne, none of which we got to.
They weren’t needed. Because, aside from the cheeses by themselves, Mary Karen made a Roquamole. And just to show off the versatility of blue cheese, I whipped up an incredible (no brag, just fact) Gorgonzola Cheesecake.
Mary Karen followed this Nigella Lawson recipe, and it was awesome. For my recipe, cf. below.
So, what wines match well with blue cheese? Well, the authorities claim either a big muscle red, or, in a complete spin-about, a sweet dessert wine. Let’s start with muscle, in the form of Twisted, 2007 California Old Vine Zinfandel, $8. Now, I’m not a big fan of California Zin, in particular, this style. Overblown, sweet, all flash, no subtlety. And yes, I know, this is the style (and price) that many people love. To be perfectly fair, it was a good match with the St. Agur, and the Shropshire. It did, however, turn that Herve Mons into a bitter hunk of mold.
Primitivo may be the same grape as Zinfandel, but it’s not the same wine. Italians prefer food friendly wines, and tend to pick grapes earlier, leaving a bit of acidity, and giving the wine some leanness and earthiness. Perfect example, the Caleo, 2005 Salento Primitivo, $9. To highlight the difference, the Caleo is 13% alc., while the Twisted is 14%. All of which adds up to the Primitivo faring much better all around with the cheeses. Especially with the Herve Mons and the Stilton.
But then you go back to 15% alcohol with the Napa Cellars, 2006 Napa Valley Zinfandel, $22, a big robust wine, with bright berry and cigar box aromas, and sweet berry/cherry flavors, almost Port-like. While a far better wine than the Twisted (commensurate with the price difference!), it drew almost the same results when paired with the cheeses. Okay, but not great.
And then a real treat, Alison, god love her, brought a bottle that had been hiding in her cellar for a long time, the Viansa, 2002 Sonoma County Cabernet Sauvignon, ??, and it was terrific. Starting with the simple fact it was perfectly aged. All the raw, gangly, aggressive notes of a young Cab are sanded down, and smoothed out. Still plenty of tannin though, indicating it still has some aging potential. But for our purposes, it was wonderful with all four cheeses.
And then the big cliché -o yawn- Sauternes and blue cheese. Of course it’s going to work! Isn’t it? Well, let’s start with the fact the Chateau de Cosse, 2005 Sauternes, $26, is a marvelous wine –rich, flavorful, earthy. I’m not even going to bother with superlatives. So good, one of our tasters, Dan, insisted that it was a terrible match with the cheese, because nothing you put in your mouth could pair with the intensity and succulence of this wine.
I certainly sympathize with Dan’s point (just drink the damn wine!), but the other side (mine), it was truly remarkable with all four cheeses. I use a 4-point system (my own private voodoo) and the match with St. Agur got 4 ½ points. Can’t get any better than that.
What about that other cliché -Port and blue cheese? Well, we had a little snafu, as two of us each thought the other was bringing a Port, and it turned out neither of us did. But wait a minute, I still have that Roquefort, Oregonzola, and Bleu d’Auvergne waiting in the wings…reason for another class?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Gorgonzola Cheesecake
Somewhere, stuffed in the dusty coves of the Mind-Blogging Archives, is a piece I wrote on La Bottega's fantastic appetizer Gorgonzola Cheesecake. I had tried on several occasions to duplicate it at home from a CDKitchen recipe (no longer available), with good, but not great results...until now. For a wine/cheese pairing class I prepared this rendition, and stopping short of breaking my arm patting myself on the back, it was awesome...don't take my word for it.
Try this:
Gorgonzola Cheesecake
Make a batch of polenta, with 1 ½ cups of water, ½ cup of cornmeal , two garlic cloves, chopped, salt, cook covered for fifteen minutes. Add ¼ cup grated parmesan cheese and a couple leaves of chiffoned fresh basil (the recipe called for dried basil –horrors!). Set aside to cool.
In a small ramekin, roast a head of garlic with lots of olive oil drizzled over, in a 400 degree oven for half an hour. When cool enough to work with, strip cloves from the shell, and set aside. Turn oven to 325.
1 pound of Costco special Gorgonzola, mild stuff, but just fine for this. Now, instead of sitting around for weeks waiting for this to be workable, I put crumbled cheese in the microwave for 45 seconds. But it seemed like it was getting a little rubbery, so I put the cheese in a stainless steel mixing bowl and into the oven for about 5 minutes. That just barely started to melt it.
Then I used only 3 packages of 8 oz. cream cheese (recipe called for 5), and one at a time softened them in the microwave, about 30 seconds each. Add cream cheese to the warmed Gorgonzola in the bowl, whip it all together. Add 4 eggs, one at a time, and stir away until it's all very creamy.
Grease (or butter) a 10-inch spring form pan, and spread polenta over bottom. Pour in the cheese filling, spreading it around, trying to remove all air bubbles. Place garlic cloves on top at the ends of imaginary wagon-wheel spokes at the edge of the cake.
Cook for 1 hour. Do the ole toothpick trick to make sure it’s done. Then let cool for at least an hour.
The texture was creamy, the flavor fantastic, and everyone in class gave it two YUMs up. For wine pairing check out The Wine Iconoclast.
La Bottega serves this as a ‘starter’ in a pool of tasty tomato sauce, with lots of crusty bread.
Try this:
Gorgonzola Cheesecake
Make a batch of polenta, with 1 ½ cups of water, ½ cup of cornmeal , two garlic cloves, chopped, salt, cook covered for fifteen minutes. Add ¼ cup grated parmesan cheese and a couple leaves of chiffoned fresh basil (the recipe called for dried basil –horrors!). Set aside to cool.
In a small ramekin, roast a head of garlic with lots of olive oil drizzled over, in a 400 degree oven for half an hour. When cool enough to work with, strip cloves from the shell, and set aside. Turn oven to 325.
1 pound of Costco special Gorgonzola, mild stuff, but just fine for this. Now, instead of sitting around for weeks waiting for this to be workable, I put crumbled cheese in the microwave for 45 seconds. But it seemed like it was getting a little rubbery, so I put the cheese in a stainless steel mixing bowl and into the oven for about 5 minutes. That just barely started to melt it.
Then I used only 3 packages of 8 oz. cream cheese (recipe called for 5), and one at a time softened them in the microwave, about 30 seconds each. Add cream cheese to the warmed Gorgonzola in the bowl, whip it all together. Add 4 eggs, one at a time, and stir away until it's all very creamy.
Grease (or butter) a 10-inch spring form pan, and spread polenta over bottom. Pour in the cheese filling, spreading it around, trying to remove all air bubbles. Place garlic cloves on top at the ends of imaginary wagon-wheel spokes at the edge of the cake.
Cook for 1 hour. Do the ole toothpick trick to make sure it’s done. Then let cool for at least an hour.
The texture was creamy, the flavor fantastic, and everyone in class gave it two YUMs up. For wine pairing check out The Wine Iconoclast.
La Bottega serves this as a ‘starter’ in a pool of tasty tomato sauce, with lots of crusty bread.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The Big Stink: Part II
Who put the PU in puer? The washed rind cheese, that’s who.
Epoisses, Munster, l’Ami du Chambertin, Reblochon, Maroilles, Pont l’Eveque, Taleggio, Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk –put all these in one room, and you’d build a stench so strong it would rival a pigsty, with dirty gym socks, and cigar butts thrown in for good measure.
And so you ask: Is that a good thing?
Yes. These are some of the most incredible cheeses in the world (and o by the way, since many washed rind cheeses are French, I thought I’d toss in the French verb puer, which means ‘to stink’).
I once held a wine/cheese tasting at a restaurant with many of the above cheeses, and the smell was like Sue Storm’s Force Field, the wait staff bounced off it like ping pong balls.
What gives them that good stink is the process -the washed rind. After molded, the young cheese is bathed in a brine with either eau-de-vie, wine, or beer, encouraging the growth of certain bacteria, which produces the stink –and makes the taste so amazing. A cratered-like rind forms –from orange to brown- some edible (e.g. Epoisses), some not so much, like Taleggio.
Of the washed rind cheeses, by the far the strongest is Maroilles, which is impossible to find (legally) in the states, with Munster, Epoisses, and l’Ami du Chambertin, close behind. The American Red Hawk is right up there, as well. The milder ones, Pont l’Eveque, Livarot, Langres, and Taleggio (the lone Italian in the group), while still fairly strong, are fine entry-level washed rind cheeses.
The texture of most washed rinds is creamy to semi-soft, with young ones almost runny. The deep flavors are earthy, gamy, sometimes nutty to caramel. The Parisian cheese shop, Marie-Anne Cantin, ages an Epoisses that more than one savvy taster insists is like peanut butter!
So okay, what wine are we going to pair with these powerful cheeses? You’d think first, a muscle wine. A big Cab, for instance. Some authorities recommend Chardonnay. But since the finest of the washed rinds (in my humble opinion) are Epoisses and especially l’Ami du Chambertin, and as both are from Burgundy, I’m thinking a good Burgundian Pinot Noir.
So on to our tasting class. To minimize the risk of the Rubik’s Cube factor, I pitted four cheeses –l’Ami du Chambertin, Berthaut Epoisses, Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk, and Taleggio- against four wines -o, actually five, as I –dubiously- added the Joseph Drouhin, 2007 Bourgogne Laforet Chardonnay, $12. Not surprisingly, while a lovely wine, the cheeses beat up all over it.
To minimize cost (I was already three-times over my budget just with the cheeses), I put in 3 wines from my own Spudders Crest label -two Cab/Merlots from Red Mountain, and a Pinot Noir from Sunnyside Vineyards, which is across I-5 from Willamette Valley Vineyards. I also tossed in an over-the-transom California Cab, about which the less said, the better.
I wasn’t so sure the Big-on-Big would work, but as it turns out, the Spudders Crest, 2005 Red Mountain Vineyard Cab/Merlot, was by the far the class favorite. Red Mountain churns out some big wines, and this is right up there with them. The 2006 Cab/Merlot, which is a little oakier than the ’05, didn’t fare as well, though I personally thought it was the best match with l’Ami du Chambertin (a very hard to find cheese, but Elephant’s Deli in Portland had it).
As for the Spudders Crest, 2007 Sunnyside Vineyards Pinot Noir, which I think of (in my wildest dreams) as rather like a young Savigny-les-Beaune, a little brambly, with real pretty Bing cherry fruit, it paired only okay with the cheeses. I think the prettiness of the fruit was a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive flavors of the cheeses.
Maybe a more raw and earthy Pinot –Pommard?- might’ve worked better. But in the meantime, I’ll go Big-on-Big.
Next up: Am I bleu?
Epoisses, Munster, l’Ami du Chambertin, Reblochon, Maroilles, Pont l’Eveque, Taleggio, Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk –put all these in one room, and you’d build a stench so strong it would rival a pigsty, with dirty gym socks, and cigar butts thrown in for good measure.
And so you ask: Is that a good thing?
Yes. These are some of the most incredible cheeses in the world (and o by the way, since many washed rind cheeses are French, I thought I’d toss in the French verb puer, which means ‘to stink’).
I once held a wine/cheese tasting at a restaurant with many of the above cheeses, and the smell was like Sue Storm’s Force Field, the wait staff bounced off it like ping pong balls.
What gives them that good stink is the process -the washed rind. After molded, the young cheese is bathed in a brine with either eau-de-vie, wine, or beer, encouraging the growth of certain bacteria, which produces the stink –and makes the taste so amazing. A cratered-like rind forms –from orange to brown- some edible (e.g. Epoisses), some not so much, like Taleggio.
Of the washed rind cheeses, by the far the strongest is Maroilles, which is impossible to find (legally) in the states, with Munster, Epoisses, and l’Ami du Chambertin, close behind. The American Red Hawk is right up there, as well. The milder ones, Pont l’Eveque, Livarot, Langres, and Taleggio (the lone Italian in the group), while still fairly strong, are fine entry-level washed rind cheeses.
The texture of most washed rinds is creamy to semi-soft, with young ones almost runny. The deep flavors are earthy, gamy, sometimes nutty to caramel. The Parisian cheese shop, Marie-Anne Cantin, ages an Epoisses that more than one savvy taster insists is like peanut butter!
So okay, what wine are we going to pair with these powerful cheeses? You’d think first, a muscle wine. A big Cab, for instance. Some authorities recommend Chardonnay. But since the finest of the washed rinds (in my humble opinion) are Epoisses and especially l’Ami du Chambertin, and as both are from Burgundy, I’m thinking a good Burgundian Pinot Noir.
So on to our tasting class. To minimize the risk of the Rubik’s Cube factor, I pitted four cheeses –l’Ami du Chambertin, Berthaut Epoisses, Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk, and Taleggio- against four wines -o, actually five, as I –dubiously- added the Joseph Drouhin, 2007 Bourgogne Laforet Chardonnay, $12. Not surprisingly, while a lovely wine, the cheeses beat up all over it.
To minimize cost (I was already three-times over my budget just with the cheeses), I put in 3 wines from my own Spudders Crest label -two Cab/Merlots from Red Mountain, and a Pinot Noir from Sunnyside Vineyards, which is across I-5 from Willamette Valley Vineyards. I also tossed in an over-the-transom California Cab, about which the less said, the better.
I wasn’t so sure the Big-on-Big would work, but as it turns out, the Spudders Crest, 2005 Red Mountain Vineyard Cab/Merlot, was by the far the class favorite. Red Mountain churns out some big wines, and this is right up there with them. The 2006 Cab/Merlot, which is a little oakier than the ’05, didn’t fare as well, though I personally thought it was the best match with l’Ami du Chambertin (a very hard to find cheese, but Elephant’s Deli in Portland had it).
As for the Spudders Crest, 2007 Sunnyside Vineyards Pinot Noir, which I think of (in my wildest dreams) as rather like a young Savigny-les-Beaune, a little brambly, with real pretty Bing cherry fruit, it paired only okay with the cheeses. I think the prettiness of the fruit was a bit overwhelmed by the aggressive flavors of the cheeses.
Maybe a more raw and earthy Pinot –Pommard?- might’ve worked better. But in the meantime, I’ll go Big-on-Big.
Next up: Am I bleu?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Big Stink
They call me the Big Cheese. Have Stink, Will Travel.
And so when Clark College in Vancouver, WA, dangled their bait, I bit. Now I’m doing a three-week class on pairing cheese and wine, and Buster, there ain’t a tougher gig in town.
First up; goat cheese. Pretty simple, eh? Pah! We’re not talking grocery store ‘chevre’. There are a whole slew, a kaleidoscopic mash-mash of goat cheese styles, enough to give you whiplash. Fresh, cheddar, aged, semi-soft, Gouda, Brie; how you gonna round up a snerkle of wines to pair with all of this? That’s why they called on me.
I didn’t need to, but I consulted the experts. They confirmed what I knew, with any young goat cheese, Sauvignon Blanc, preferably from the Loire region. For those in-between, the semi-softs -Chardonnay, fruity reds. But then I ran into a stone wall. What about aged goat cheese? The recommendations were all over the place, but one grabbed my attention –a good tannic red, like Cotes du Rhone. I was dubious. But, that’s how I got where I am today, by getting in the ring with the big boppers.
So I rounded up the usual suspects, strapped them into their chairs, attached electrodes to their nostrils, and set to work. First, the wines: Henri Bourgeois, 2007 Petit Bourgeois Sauvignon Blanc, $12. This was the obvious one. If it didn’t pair well with the cheeses, I was gonna drop my cement-booted body off the Fremont Bridge.
Then a little scarier, the Fire Road, 2008 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $10. Sure it’s Sauvignon Blanc, but not Loire SB. Did it have the cahones to stand up to the cheese? Only one way to find out.
And then a ringer, the Wallace Brook, 2007 Willamette Valley Chardonnay, $10. This label is the little step-child of Adelsheim. And David likes Burgundian styled Chardonnay, doesn’t he? I hadn’t had the wine, so I wasn’t sure. But the limb was there, and I went out on it.
As for our staunch big red, I chose E.A.R.L. Burle, 2007 Cotes du Rhone, $12, a knuckle-cracking red.
Now, rather than wrangle with a Rubik’s Cube of cheese/wine pairing, I limited the cheeses to these: River’s Edge Fresh Chevre -no pesto, hazelnut, whatever. Straight Chevre. Then from central Oregon, the Semi-Hard Tumalo Farms Classico. Why not semi-soft? Beats me.
And finally, from the Loire, an aged little beast, Le Mini Chevrot.
We tasted the wines first, and all were good.
Then we tasted them with the cheeses. The Wallace Brook had a little more oak than I hoped, but it surprisingly went arm and arm with the cheeses, especially the Tumalo. And, while everyone liked the Fire Road by itself, some thought with the cheeses it turned a little sappy.
But, no doubt about it, the experts were right –twice. That Li’l Bourgeois wine was fine with all the cheeses, but awesome with the fresh chevre. And more incredible, Earl the Burle with that aged cheese was superb, the class favorite. Aged goat cheese is more firm, and takes on an earthy tang, while approaching nutty and caramel flavors, and the Earl was the perfect match.
After that, it was free-for-all time. I pulled out a goat cheddar, Gouda, a fondue, and goat cheesecake, and we merrily sipped, and nibbled the night away.
Next up– the Big Stink for sure, with washed rind cheeses. Epoisses, Taleggio, Munster! O, I can already smell the barnyard.
And so when Clark College in Vancouver, WA, dangled their bait, I bit. Now I’m doing a three-week class on pairing cheese and wine, and Buster, there ain’t a tougher gig in town.
First up; goat cheese. Pretty simple, eh? Pah! We’re not talking grocery store ‘chevre’. There are a whole slew, a kaleidoscopic mash-mash of goat cheese styles, enough to give you whiplash. Fresh, cheddar, aged, semi-soft, Gouda, Brie; how you gonna round up a snerkle of wines to pair with all of this? That’s why they called on me.
I didn’t need to, but I consulted the experts. They confirmed what I knew, with any young goat cheese, Sauvignon Blanc, preferably from the Loire region. For those in-between, the semi-softs -Chardonnay, fruity reds. But then I ran into a stone wall. What about aged goat cheese? The recommendations were all over the place, but one grabbed my attention –a good tannic red, like Cotes du Rhone. I was dubious. But, that’s how I got where I am today, by getting in the ring with the big boppers.
So I rounded up the usual suspects, strapped them into their chairs, attached electrodes to their nostrils, and set to work. First, the wines: Henri Bourgeois, 2007 Petit Bourgeois Sauvignon Blanc, $12. This was the obvious one. If it didn’t pair well with the cheeses, I was gonna drop my cement-booted body off the Fremont Bridge.
Then a little scarier, the Fire Road, 2008 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $10. Sure it’s Sauvignon Blanc, but not Loire SB. Did it have the cahones to stand up to the cheese? Only one way to find out.
And then a ringer, the Wallace Brook, 2007 Willamette Valley Chardonnay, $10. This label is the little step-child of Adelsheim. And David likes Burgundian styled Chardonnay, doesn’t he? I hadn’t had the wine, so I wasn’t sure. But the limb was there, and I went out on it.
As for our staunch big red, I chose E.A.R.L. Burle, 2007 Cotes du Rhone, $12, a knuckle-cracking red.
Now, rather than wrangle with a Rubik’s Cube of cheese/wine pairing, I limited the cheeses to these: River’s Edge Fresh Chevre -no pesto, hazelnut, whatever. Straight Chevre. Then from central Oregon, the Semi-Hard Tumalo Farms Classico. Why not semi-soft? Beats me.
And finally, from the Loire, an aged little beast, Le Mini Chevrot.
We tasted the wines first, and all were good.
Then we tasted them with the cheeses. The Wallace Brook had a little more oak than I hoped, but it surprisingly went arm and arm with the cheeses, especially the Tumalo. And, while everyone liked the Fire Road by itself, some thought with the cheeses it turned a little sappy.
But, no doubt about it, the experts were right –twice. That Li’l Bourgeois wine was fine with all the cheeses, but awesome with the fresh chevre. And more incredible, Earl the Burle with that aged cheese was superb, the class favorite. Aged goat cheese is more firm, and takes on an earthy tang, while approaching nutty and caramel flavors, and the Earl was the perfect match.
After that, it was free-for-all time. I pulled out a goat cheddar, Gouda, a fondue, and goat cheesecake, and we merrily sipped, and nibbled the night away.
Next up– the Big Stink for sure, with washed rind cheeses. Epoisses, Taleggio, Munster! O, I can already smell the barnyard.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
You're Breaking My Buds!
We got bud-break, Houston! And wouldn’t you know it, right on Earth Day. Talk about symbolic.
All it took was a weekend plus a couple days of warm-to-hot weather, and the vines began pushing harder than a pig through a lipstick tube. On Tuesday I strolled though my little vineyard and the white buds were swelled-up like crazy, each sporting a tiny reddish tip. By Wednesday noon, the cocoons had broken open, and those red tips had become the start of unfurling green leaves. Bud-break.
The nice thing about this bud-break is it looks fairly uniform. Usually you get one bud here, another way over there, then two days later, a couple over here…but almost every vine is popping with soon-to-be leaves and shoots.
First question…is this late? No, pretty much average. The earliest I’ve seen bud-break is April 3rd, and the latest –last year- the first week of May. So April 22nd is looking pretty sweet right now.
Time to celebrate with a refreshing white wine (I agree, not the smoothest transition), and the Mirth, 2007 Chardonnay, $8. Mirth? Well, that’s David O’Reilly, of course, the label-making machine (Sinnean, O’Reilly, Owen Roe, Sinister Hand, etc.).
It’s a blend of about half and half Oregon and Washington grapes, and as such, has a bit of multiple personality disorder. On the one hand rich, on the other, lean. No quality disorder, though, as it’s an exceedingly pleasant wine, with green apple, lemon and pear aromas, and fairly lean, almost crisp (cautious remark for no oak) texture, with citrus, green apple flavors, and notes of peach. Lovely stuff, and at a recession-ready price.
I hope there’s plenty around in July when after a couple hours of pulling shoots and leaves under a blazing sun, I can sit on the back deck and cool down with a couple sips of this perfectly refreshing wine.
All it took was a weekend plus a couple days of warm-to-hot weather, and the vines began pushing harder than a pig through a lipstick tube. On Tuesday I strolled though my little vineyard and the white buds were swelled-up like crazy, each sporting a tiny reddish tip. By Wednesday noon, the cocoons had broken open, and those red tips had become the start of unfurling green leaves. Bud-break.
The nice thing about this bud-break is it looks fairly uniform. Usually you get one bud here, another way over there, then two days later, a couple over here…but almost every vine is popping with soon-to-be leaves and shoots.
First question…is this late? No, pretty much average. The earliest I’ve seen bud-break is April 3rd, and the latest –last year- the first week of May. So April 22nd is looking pretty sweet right now.
Time to celebrate with a refreshing white wine (I agree, not the smoothest transition), and the Mirth, 2007 Chardonnay, $8. Mirth? Well, that’s David O’Reilly, of course, the label-making machine (Sinnean, O’Reilly, Owen Roe, Sinister Hand, etc.).
It’s a blend of about half and half Oregon and Washington grapes, and as such, has a bit of multiple personality disorder. On the one hand rich, on the other, lean. No quality disorder, though, as it’s an exceedingly pleasant wine, with green apple, lemon and pear aromas, and fairly lean, almost crisp (cautious remark for no oak) texture, with citrus, green apple flavors, and notes of peach. Lovely stuff, and at a recession-ready price.
I hope there’s plenty around in July when after a couple hours of pulling shoots and leaves under a blazing sun, I can sit on the back deck and cool down with a couple sips of this perfectly refreshing wine.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Fill in the Blancs
A peek inside my recycling bin tells me I’ve been tasting a lot of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc lately.
And that’s not a bad thing. Wonderfully lean, tart and tasty, these wines remain among the best values on the market. I first got major exposure to them in 1999 when I attended VinExpo in Bordeaux. Now, I’d had a few New Zealand Sauv Blancs prior to that, here and there, at a restaurant, or tastings, but at VinExpo I had the chance to taste back-to-back from about 15 different producers in one fell swoop. Very eye opening.
What struck me then was how consistent the wines were, both in quality and flavors. Sure, there were identifying characteristics, as some were leaner, brighter, fruitier, while others were bigger, flashier, more substantial, but certain elements, like grapefruit, and a lemony zing, were all present and accounted for.
Having actually spent quality time in New Zealand since then, sampling countless examples of Sauv Blanc, I’ll stand by that opinion –only to note that, yes, you can find some dogs, bottom-feeders, that don’t make their way across the equator.
One odd note, even taking into account the exchange rate, we typically paid as much if not more in New Zealand as we would for the same wines here in the states. I was told the reason is that the government taxes the bejeebers out of wine in-country, but then gives all sorts of incentives to export them.
A good example is Monkey Bay, which you can generally get on sale for under $10 in the states. In New Zealand we paid 16 or 17 New Zealand dollars, or about $12 U.S. In other words, save the air fare and buy your Sauv Blanc here.
A classic is the Nobilo, 2008 Regional Collection Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $9. This is in the lean, bright, refreshing category. And a great price (Freddies).
The Fire Road, 2008 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $10, is a new one to me. I found it to be on the earthy, grassy side, more like a Loire Sauv Blanc. Which is to say, quite good, and a perfect food wine.
And don’t forget Monkey Bay. Somehow my last bottle got recycled already, but I always enjoy it.
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I added 47 pounds of bulky fat just in time for the play-offs…
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And that’s not a bad thing. Wonderfully lean, tart and tasty, these wines remain among the best values on the market. I first got major exposure to them in 1999 when I attended VinExpo in Bordeaux. Now, I’d had a few New Zealand Sauv Blancs prior to that, here and there, at a restaurant, or tastings, but at VinExpo I had the chance to taste back-to-back from about 15 different producers in one fell swoop. Very eye opening.
What struck me then was how consistent the wines were, both in quality and flavors. Sure, there were identifying characteristics, as some were leaner, brighter, fruitier, while others were bigger, flashier, more substantial, but certain elements, like grapefruit, and a lemony zing, were all present and accounted for.
Having actually spent quality time in New Zealand since then, sampling countless examples of Sauv Blanc, I’ll stand by that opinion –only to note that, yes, you can find some dogs, bottom-feeders, that don’t make their way across the equator.
One odd note, even taking into account the exchange rate, we typically paid as much if not more in New Zealand as we would for the same wines here in the states. I was told the reason is that the government taxes the bejeebers out of wine in-country, but then gives all sorts of incentives to export them.
A good example is Monkey Bay, which you can generally get on sale for under $10 in the states. In New Zealand we paid 16 or 17 New Zealand dollars, or about $12 U.S. In other words, save the air fare and buy your Sauv Blanc here.
A classic is the Nobilo, 2008 Regional Collection Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $9. This is in the lean, bright, refreshing category. And a great price (Freddies).
The Fire Road, 2008 Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, $10, is a new one to me. I found it to be on the earthy, grassy side, more like a Loire Sauv Blanc. Which is to say, quite good, and a perfect food wine.
And don’t forget Monkey Bay. Somehow my last bottle got recycled already, but I always enjoy it.
Christian Mom Runs 7k/50mins
How a Christian Mom runs 3k a week to get in shape for the big race…
BethsRunny.com
“My Wrinkles Are Gone”
He left with a young blonde, the old coot...
CougarsRUs.com
1 Fat Stomach Rule Works
I added 47 pounds of bulky fat just in time for the play-offs…
callforpizza.com
Monday, April 13, 2009
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Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The World in a Plastic Cup
Well, thanks to DeWayne-O, I’ve had a chance to actually hold Kindle in my hand and scroll through Part I of my book, A Ruminant on Spudders Crest; A Year of Growing, Making and Enjoying Wine, and it looks pretty dang good. There are some trifling oddities; Tab problems, with indents a little out of whack here and there. But part of the joy of this book is that it’s not exactly ‘in whack’.
So all you Kindlers out there, if you have four bucks rattling around in your pocket, you might want to shell out for the opening salvo of my serialized book, which will be released in four parts through 2009.
Now, how about some whining. Specifically, I’ve been thinking a lot about stemware lately. You know how some wine snoots get all exercised about glasses, how you can’t drink any wine unless it’s in the exact glass to match it. Well, I say phooey on that. And so do the folks at Portland’s Keller Auditorium. LeAnne and I recently caught ‘Wicked’ there, and as we arrived a bit late (traffic!) we hardly had time for a glass of wine before the curtain went up.
We were delighted to discover wine is allowed in the auditorium -with one little caveat. It’s gotta be in a sippy cup. A plastic cup with a snow-cone top and a straw hole. O well, us winos will do anything for a hit. LeAnne had a nice Italian Pinot Grigio, and I a Korbel sparkling wine (can you imagine the howls of laughter at the Riedel company?) Well, we had the last laugh, as we strolled to our seats sucking on straws.
In rapid succession after that, on a four day trip to San Diego, we had more wine out of plastic cups than out of stemware. Beginning on the flight down (Alaska), with the Stone Cellars by Beringer, NV California Chardonnay, $5, and you know, doggone it, it wasn’t bad. The plastic made the wine seem all the more elegant.
Every touristy thing we did in San Diego -zoo, Petco Park, Seaworld, even around the hotel pool- we were confronted with plastic cups. The San Diego Zoo (which is pretty awesome) has a number of eating establishments spread around the sprawling compound, most of which serve wine. We paused between the monkeys and tigers (not literally between them) for a quick pick-me-up in way of a simple Pinot Grigio served in environmentally friendly plastic cups, made from 100% plant material. I‘d like to see the trees they grow them on.
We caught the final exhibition game at Petco Park, between the Padres and Angels. What an excellent baseball stadium, and they serve decent wine. I had enough Merlot to keep me warm on what turned out to be a rather chilly evening. Padres lost, 7-6.
In light of all this, why then is Seaworld so wine unfriendly? Well, it’s owned by the Busch Entertainment Group, so most of the refreshment stands sell only ‘Select Anheuser-Busch beverages’. Which is to say: Bud. No wine. I thought this was California, for crissakes. While we had a great time getting drenched on the Journey to Atlantis and Shipwreck Rapids, we had to search almost all 186 acres to find wine at the Calypso Bay Smokehouse. And then it was Gallo. Nothing says high-falutin’ like Gallo in a plastic cup.
At least the mimosas we had while relaxing around the pool at the wonderful Hotel Solamar were served in plastic Champagne flutes.
Finally, I had a chance on the flight back to PDX to do my own private wine tasting. Because we were stuck in the last row (24), we were also the last to get our select non-Anheuser-Busch beverage service. To save time and trouble I bought two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon and weirdly enough got two different brands. So, by instinct (and profession) I held my own little wine tasting in seat F. With plastic cups.
The Delicato, 2005 California Cabernet Sauvignon, $5, is slightly sweet and has that fake oak -staves, chips, or sawdust- flavor. And while I wouldn’t toss it out the window at 40,000 feet, I wouldn’t let it near my Riedel Bordeaux glass.
The Stone Cellars by Beringer, NV California Cabernet Sauvignon, $5, is by contrast extremely fruity, almost pretty, but with a bit of depth and complexity, and solid tannins. Very glass worthy.
See there, now the whole trip is a write-off. Cha-ching!
So all you Kindlers out there, if you have four bucks rattling around in your pocket, you might want to shell out for the opening salvo of my serialized book, which will be released in four parts through 2009.
Now, how about some whining. Specifically, I’ve been thinking a lot about stemware lately. You know how some wine snoots get all exercised about glasses, how you can’t drink any wine unless it’s in the exact glass to match it. Well, I say phooey on that. And so do the folks at Portland’s Keller Auditorium. LeAnne and I recently caught ‘Wicked’ there, and as we arrived a bit late (traffic!) we hardly had time for a glass of wine before the curtain went up.
We were delighted to discover wine is allowed in the auditorium -with one little caveat. It’s gotta be in a sippy cup. A plastic cup with a snow-cone top and a straw hole. O well, us winos will do anything for a hit. LeAnne had a nice Italian Pinot Grigio, and I a Korbel sparkling wine (can you imagine the howls of laughter at the Riedel company?) Well, we had the last laugh, as we strolled to our seats sucking on straws.
In rapid succession after that, on a four day trip to San Diego, we had more wine out of plastic cups than out of stemware. Beginning on the flight down (Alaska), with the Stone Cellars by Beringer, NV California Chardonnay, $5, and you know, doggone it, it wasn’t bad. The plastic made the wine seem all the more elegant.
Every touristy thing we did in San Diego -zoo, Petco Park, Seaworld, even around the hotel pool- we were confronted with plastic cups. The San Diego Zoo (which is pretty awesome) has a number of eating establishments spread around the sprawling compound, most of which serve wine. We paused between the monkeys and tigers (not literally between them) for a quick pick-me-up in way of a simple Pinot Grigio served in environmentally friendly plastic cups, made from 100% plant material. I‘d like to see the trees they grow them on.
We caught the final exhibition game at Petco Park, between the Padres and Angels. What an excellent baseball stadium, and they serve decent wine. I had enough Merlot to keep me warm on what turned out to be a rather chilly evening. Padres lost, 7-6.
In light of all this, why then is Seaworld so wine unfriendly? Well, it’s owned by the Busch Entertainment Group, so most of the refreshment stands sell only ‘Select Anheuser-Busch beverages’. Which is to say: Bud. No wine. I thought this was California, for crissakes. While we had a great time getting drenched on the Journey to Atlantis and Shipwreck Rapids, we had to search almost all 186 acres to find wine at the Calypso Bay Smokehouse. And then it was Gallo. Nothing says high-falutin’ like Gallo in a plastic cup.
At least the mimosas we had while relaxing around the pool at the wonderful Hotel Solamar were served in plastic Champagne flutes.
Finally, I had a chance on the flight back to PDX to do my own private wine tasting. Because we were stuck in the last row (24), we were also the last to get our select non-Anheuser-Busch beverage service. To save time and trouble I bought two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon and weirdly enough got two different brands. So, by instinct (and profession) I held my own little wine tasting in seat F. With plastic cups.
The Delicato, 2005 California Cabernet Sauvignon, $5, is slightly sweet and has that fake oak -staves, chips, or sawdust- flavor. And while I wouldn’t toss it out the window at 40,000 feet, I wouldn’t let it near my Riedel Bordeaux glass.
The Stone Cellars by Beringer, NV California Cabernet Sauvignon, $5, is by contrast extremely fruity, almost pretty, but with a bit of depth and complexity, and solid tannins. Very glass worthy.
See there, now the whole trip is a write-off. Cha-ching!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Whine Notes
Ryan Patrick, 2008 Columbia Valley Naked Chardonnay, $8. Okay, that’s more like it. A nude Chardonnay. One neither fermented nor aged in oak. A completely un-oaked (naked!) Chardonnay. And what do you get? Apples, good, juicy red delicious apples. Hint of pear. But no vanilla, no butterscotch –no oak. And yet it remains a luscious, full bodied wine. And owing, no doubt to the warmer climate, it’s what we call a bit fat –that is, lacking in acidity. All that means is it’s more of sipping wine than a food wine. And at $8 a bottle, I can handle that.
Louis Latour, 2006 Le Chardonnay, $11. This one you can sip, pair with foods, take on a slow boat to China, anything you want –it’s a delight. Floral, lemony aromas, tight, crisp texture, with exotic flavors of green apple, citrus, and hint of roasted pine nut. Like any good white Burgundy (it doesn’t say it on the front label, but it is), it sees little or no oak. What distinguishes this from the above wine is the bright acidity, making for an excellent seafood –especially shellfish- wine.
King Estate, 2007 Domaine Oregon Pinot Gris, $25. Well, another case of Hemingway’s Notebook. I sampled this wine a month or so ago, and was blown away by the beauty, elegance, and tastiness of it. Then I lost my notes. Or maybe Matt Kramer stole them! More likely, I simply misplaced them on that slow boat to China. In any case, trust me, this is a fantastic Pinot Gris, and keeping with today’s theme, no oak.
Confessions of a Semi-Professional Taster: Man, I’ve been having a run of bad luck recently. Last week I opened a bottle of our Spudders Crest, 2007 Sunnyside Vineyard Pinot Noir, Priceless, and it was corked. My own wine…corked! Then, the very next day, I popped into one of my favorite snugs, and ordered a glass of Willamette Valley Vineyards Pinot Noir. The barkeep poured me a smidgeon from the bottom of one bottle, and while she opened another bottle, I snuck a sip, and it was good. She poured the remainder of the glass full, and I took one whiff, and it was oxidized. How could a just-opened bottle of wine, a 2007 at that, be oxidized? Only thing I can think is someone back in the kitchen sat it next to, if not in, a hot oven. And finally, while blind tasting the two Chardonnays above, one of them was corked! I won’t tell you which one, not their fault, but corked. I had to run to Whole Foods (pleasant exchange) for another bottle.
The real problem here, and I’m not saying I’m a freakin’ genius, but what if someone not acquainted with ‘off’ aromas and flavors had one of these wines? You know what they’d say; ‘Well, that’s a crappy wine, I’ll never buy that again.’ Lost sale, forever. All because of a tainted cork. Or, bad storage.
Louis Latour, 2006 Le Chardonnay, $11. This one you can sip, pair with foods, take on a slow boat to China, anything you want –it’s a delight. Floral, lemony aromas, tight, crisp texture, with exotic flavors of green apple, citrus, and hint of roasted pine nut. Like any good white Burgundy (it doesn’t say it on the front label, but it is), it sees little or no oak. What distinguishes this from the above wine is the bright acidity, making for an excellent seafood –especially shellfish- wine.
King Estate, 2007 Domaine Oregon Pinot Gris, $25. Well, another case of Hemingway’s Notebook. I sampled this wine a month or so ago, and was blown away by the beauty, elegance, and tastiness of it. Then I lost my notes. Or maybe Matt Kramer stole them! More likely, I simply misplaced them on that slow boat to China. In any case, trust me, this is a fantastic Pinot Gris, and keeping with today’s theme, no oak.
Confessions of a Semi-Professional Taster: Man, I’ve been having a run of bad luck recently. Last week I opened a bottle of our Spudders Crest, 2007 Sunnyside Vineyard Pinot Noir, Priceless, and it was corked. My own wine…corked! Then, the very next day, I popped into one of my favorite snugs, and ordered a glass of Willamette Valley Vineyards Pinot Noir. The barkeep poured me a smidgeon from the bottom of one bottle, and while she opened another bottle, I snuck a sip, and it was good. She poured the remainder of the glass full, and I took one whiff, and it was oxidized. How could a just-opened bottle of wine, a 2007 at that, be oxidized? Only thing I can think is someone back in the kitchen sat it next to, if not in, a hot oven. And finally, while blind tasting the two Chardonnays above, one of them was corked! I won’t tell you which one, not their fault, but corked. I had to run to Whole Foods (pleasant exchange) for another bottle.
The real problem here, and I’m not saying I’m a freakin’ genius, but what if someone not acquainted with ‘off’ aromas and flavors had one of these wines? You know what they’d say; ‘Well, that’s a crappy wine, I’ll never buy that again.’ Lost sale, forever. All because of a tainted cork. Or, bad storage.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Kindling
You know, as I scroll down through my life, er, I mean, my blog, I find that I haven’t been doing much in the way of reviewing wine lately. Why?
Because I’ve been spending all my freaking time trying to figure out Kindle, that’s why. And at last, I think I got it.
You DO know about Kindle, don’t you? Anyone who saw Jeff Beezos guffawing on Jon Stewart a couple weeks ago, couldn’t help but be intrigued, if not amused. Beezos was introducing the new ‘edition’ of Kindle, the hand held electronic book reading device. I had already made up my mind to ‘publish’ a book on Kindle, but that cemented it.
Before getting onto Kindle, however, I had to first wrestle with Bill Gates. And Word. Specifically, how to convert a Word document to HTML. And I think I got it. I think. We’ll see in about 72 hours.
This whole experience has taught me one thing; Microsoft is kinda like Sadie. Sadie is a Golden Retriever who lives next door. Well, ‘lives’ is a relative word. Sadie actually thinks the whole world is her backyard. If she sees me out working in the vineyard she comes up with a tennis ball in her mouth, bumps me, nuzzles me, climbs all over me, just trying to get me to toss that slobbery, gooey ball.
But don’t do it. Once you toss the tennis ball, your life is over. Sadie will never leave you alone. She’ll hound you, chase you, she’ll stand outside your window while you sleep, drool dripping from the disgusting ball.
And that’s Microsoft. Once you got it, they won’t stop bugging you. Dial up! Connect. Redirect. We’ve got updates! Come on, throw the damn ball. While I’m sleeping it secretly downloads files to my computer. Then laughs at me. Haha, see what I did.
But, I think I got my book converted to HTML and uploaded to Kindle. I’m a little nervous about it though, because when I tried to preview it, Microsoft didn’t like the file and wouldn’t let me open it. But I thinks it’s there.
So, what is this book? Thanks for asking. It’s called A Ruminant on Spudders Crest; A Year of Growing, Making, and Enjoying Wine. It’s about a year-in-the-vineyard. My vineyard. Me. It’s quite amusing, I think. But then, I’m prejudiced.
I’m serializing the book, publishing it in four segments, pretty much following the seasons it chronicles. Part I takes the story up to bud-break, and sells for $5.
In any case, now that I’ve Kindled, it’s back to doing what I do best –sloughing off. And reviewing wine.
Because I’ve been spending all my freaking time trying to figure out Kindle, that’s why. And at last, I think I got it.
You DO know about Kindle, don’t you? Anyone who saw Jeff Beezos guffawing on Jon Stewart a couple weeks ago, couldn’t help but be intrigued, if not amused. Beezos was introducing the new ‘edition’ of Kindle, the hand held electronic book reading device. I had already made up my mind to ‘publish’ a book on Kindle, but that cemented it.
Before getting onto Kindle, however, I had to first wrestle with Bill Gates. And Word. Specifically, how to convert a Word document to HTML. And I think I got it. I think. We’ll see in about 72 hours.
This whole experience has taught me one thing; Microsoft is kinda like Sadie. Sadie is a Golden Retriever who lives next door. Well, ‘lives’ is a relative word. Sadie actually thinks the whole world is her backyard. If she sees me out working in the vineyard she comes up with a tennis ball in her mouth, bumps me, nuzzles me, climbs all over me, just trying to get me to toss that slobbery, gooey ball.
But don’t do it. Once you toss the tennis ball, your life is over. Sadie will never leave you alone. She’ll hound you, chase you, she’ll stand outside your window while you sleep, drool dripping from the disgusting ball.
And that’s Microsoft. Once you got it, they won’t stop bugging you. Dial up! Connect. Redirect. We’ve got updates! Come on, throw the damn ball. While I’m sleeping it secretly downloads files to my computer. Then laughs at me. Haha, see what I did.
But, I think I got my book converted to HTML and uploaded to Kindle. I’m a little nervous about it though, because when I tried to preview it, Microsoft didn’t like the file and wouldn’t let me open it. But I thinks it’s there.
So, what is this book? Thanks for asking. It’s called A Ruminant on Spudders Crest; A Year of Growing, Making, and Enjoying Wine. It’s about a year-in-the-vineyard. My vineyard. Me. It’s quite amusing, I think. But then, I’m prejudiced.
I’m serializing the book, publishing it in four segments, pretty much following the seasons it chronicles. Part I takes the story up to bud-break, and sells for $5.
In any case, now that I’ve Kindled, it’s back to doing what I do best –sloughing off. And reviewing wine.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I'm Headin' for Sonoma
Way to go, Uncle Joe!
A two million dollar home in Sonoma, with a vineyard. Wow.
Well, from what I can tell the ‘vineyard’ is 12 starter Zinfandel plants out in the backyard, but that’s okay. HGTV did a good job ‘selling’ the vineyard theme, with lots of pictures of rolling hills, and dozens of acres of mature vineyards basking in the sun. So what if it they weren’t part of the house. Nice tease.
But still and all, my Uncle Joe and Aunt Cheri won the annual dream house giveaway on HGTV. Out of more than 39 million -yes, million!-entries. The episode aired Sunday (March 15) and it was pretty awesome. The build-up was a little torturous, mostly because we already knew Joe won, and I just wanted to see my uncle. It was like waiting for the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show; ‘Coming up, the Beatles!’ Screams, delirium. Forty minutes later, the Beatles finally appear.
Same here. Gotta show the fabulous house (it is fabulous). Gotta have the designer gush, the neighbor (who produces Pixar movies) comment, and follow the lady with the balloons who wouldn’t tell us where she was, as she drove around getting ready to surprise the winners.
It was all a good fun tease, and finally, just as the Beatles were about to come out, the lady with the balloons goes up a porch, knocks on the door, and my Aunt Cheri, dressed in a red Coca-Cola T-shirt comes out and the screaming and delirium commences.
Joe was behind her trying to get a word in edgewise, but the lady only wanted to talk to Cheri, who did a good ‘Omigod, I can’t believe it!’ thing, without embarrassing herself.
Joe as it turns out was the one who entered the drawing -under Cheri’s name. That’s Joe. (Cheri once told me a story about how she came home one day to find Joe hiding around a corner, down on all fours, with a big grin on his face. Cheri asked him, rightfully, I think, what the hell he was doing, and Joe laughed, and said “Shh, I’m gonna scare the dog.” That’s Uncle Joe.)
Anyway, Joe finally gets his two-cents worth in in a follow-up that you can view on HGTV’s Website. There’s even a shot of him playing guitar. Which is kinda sweet, because it was Joe that taught me how to play guitar 45 years ago. Two months before the Beatles first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show.
So, Joe and Cheri have a fabulous house in Sonoma (they live in Florida), but funny thing is, I don’t think they drink wine.
Good time –and place- to learn.
A two million dollar home in Sonoma, with a vineyard. Wow.
Well, from what I can tell the ‘vineyard’ is 12 starter Zinfandel plants out in the backyard, but that’s okay. HGTV did a good job ‘selling’ the vineyard theme, with lots of pictures of rolling hills, and dozens of acres of mature vineyards basking in the sun. So what if it they weren’t part of the house. Nice tease.
But still and all, my Uncle Joe and Aunt Cheri won the annual dream house giveaway on HGTV. Out of more than 39 million -yes, million!-entries. The episode aired Sunday (March 15) and it was pretty awesome. The build-up was a little torturous, mostly because we already knew Joe won, and I just wanted to see my uncle. It was like waiting for the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show; ‘Coming up, the Beatles!’ Screams, delirium. Forty minutes later, the Beatles finally appear.
Same here. Gotta show the fabulous house (it is fabulous). Gotta have the designer gush, the neighbor (who produces Pixar movies) comment, and follow the lady with the balloons who wouldn’t tell us where she was, as she drove around getting ready to surprise the winners.
It was all a good fun tease, and finally, just as the Beatles were about to come out, the lady with the balloons goes up a porch, knocks on the door, and my Aunt Cheri, dressed in a red Coca-Cola T-shirt comes out and the screaming and delirium commences.
Joe was behind her trying to get a word in edgewise, but the lady only wanted to talk to Cheri, who did a good ‘Omigod, I can’t believe it!’ thing, without embarrassing herself.
Joe as it turns out was the one who entered the drawing -under Cheri’s name. That’s Joe. (Cheri once told me a story about how she came home one day to find Joe hiding around a corner, down on all fours, with a big grin on his face. Cheri asked him, rightfully, I think, what the hell he was doing, and Joe laughed, and said “Shh, I’m gonna scare the dog.” That’s Uncle Joe.)
Anyway, Joe finally gets his two-cents worth in in a follow-up that you can view on HGTV’s Website. There’s even a shot of him playing guitar. Which is kinda sweet, because it was Joe that taught me how to play guitar 45 years ago. Two months before the Beatles first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show.
So, Joe and Cheri have a fabulous house in Sonoma (they live in Florida), but funny thing is, I don’t think they drink wine.
Good time –and place- to learn.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
March 9, 2009. Aligot –At long last, I am about to make aligot (pronounced ah-lee-GO), thanks to my friend Linda who makes her own cheese. Last night she came over bearing a chunk of some one-day old cheese. And guess what? Aligot is (traditionally) made using two-day old Cantal cheese. So while we ate a bunch of her young fromage last night (it was a ‘release’ party for our Spudders Crest, 2007 Red Mountain Cab/Merlot), there was enough left-over to make aligot tonight –while the cheese is still two-days old.
Aligot is a fairly obscure concoction, native to the Auvergne region in southern France. My first encounter with it was last year in Paris on rue Mouffetard, and its daily market. One of the cheese shops was making a big pot of aligot out on the sidewalk. I got to taste a bit, and then bought a small tub of it.
Aligot is somewhere between mashed potatoes and a cheese spread. Most of the recipes I’ve encountered are similar. Steamed or boiled potatoes are combined at a ratio of two to one with cheese. A bit of garlic, salt, pepper, butter, and milk are added. All of this is stirred together in a double-boiler until you get a nice smooth, thick consistency, almost to saltwater taffy. It’s most often served as a side dish with meats, though it’s not bad on bread.
So anyway, tonight I will make my first aligot and report back
March 10, 2009. ‘So, Bob, how’d the aligot go (pronounced ah-lee GO-GO)?’ Well, I didn’t get that taffy-like stretchiness I was hoping for, but otherwise, it tastes wonderful. I used David Rosengarten’s recipe. Only problem, with an improvised and rather clumsy double-boiler, my hand slipped at one point, and a bunch of boiling water dribbled into the pot. Took a lot of stirring to burn that off.
My guess is, you really need to use two-day-old Cantal to get the right consistency. By the way, I asked (back on rue Mouffetard) the old fellar stirring the aligot pot if they sold the 2-day-old Cantal by itself, and he shook his head, ‘o non, non, you crazy little American.’ So I don’t know where a home cook would find it.
I do have some store-bought raw milk Cantal (probably aged to around 6 months), which is awesome. Similar to gruyere and tomme de Savoie. Maybe next time I’ll pass on tradition and try making aligot with an aged cheese.
Aligot is a fairly obscure concoction, native to the Auvergne region in southern France. My first encounter with it was last year in Paris on rue Mouffetard, and its daily market. One of the cheese shops was making a big pot of aligot out on the sidewalk. I got to taste a bit, and then bought a small tub of it.
Aligot is somewhere between mashed potatoes and a cheese spread. Most of the recipes I’ve encountered are similar. Steamed or boiled potatoes are combined at a ratio of two to one with cheese. A bit of garlic, salt, pepper, butter, and milk are added. All of this is stirred together in a double-boiler until you get a nice smooth, thick consistency, almost to saltwater taffy. It’s most often served as a side dish with meats, though it’s not bad on bread.
So anyway, tonight I will make my first aligot and report back
March 10, 2009. ‘So, Bob, how’d the aligot go (pronounced ah-lee GO-GO)?’ Well, I didn’t get that taffy-like stretchiness I was hoping for, but otherwise, it tastes wonderful. I used David Rosengarten’s recipe. Only problem, with an improvised and rather clumsy double-boiler, my hand slipped at one point, and a bunch of boiling water dribbled into the pot. Took a lot of stirring to burn that off.
My guess is, you really need to use two-day-old Cantal to get the right consistency. By the way, I asked (back on rue Mouffetard) the old fellar stirring the aligot pot if they sold the 2-day-old Cantal by itself, and he shook his head, ‘o non, non, you crazy little American.’ So I don’t know where a home cook would find it.
I do have some store-bought raw milk Cantal (probably aged to around 6 months), which is awesome. Similar to gruyere and tomme de Savoie. Maybe next time I’ll pass on tradition and try making aligot with an aged cheese.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Third Annual Awbbies
The envelope please. And the wiener is…
Did you know there are awards given to wine bloggers? Neither did I. Not only that, the AWBAs (American Wine Bloggers Awards) are already in their third year. Wow. What’s more shocking, I wasn’t even nominated. What’s up with that?
The gent behind these awards is Tom Wark, and you can visit him, and vote at his Website. Although, the deadline is tonight. But even if you’re too late to vote, it’s a good site for one stop blog shopping (I mean, you’ve already got this one, why go anywhere else, but…).
The site gave me a chance to catch up on other blogs, for, y’know, contrast, compare, see where I stand in relationship with all the other losers who can’t find a job…errr, I mean, with other like-minded, really intelligent people, who just want so much to share their tremendous wealth of information.
One thing I notice is I really suck at graphics. Well, more to the point, I don’t have graphics.
There’s one weird site for instance, that’s all images. Instead of reviewing wines with words, they just have an image, usually provocative, expressive of a particular wine. It reminded me of my late, and widely lamented newsletter, the Wine Iconoclast, where once I did wine reviews in Interpretive Dance. That went over really well.
So I’m going to start cooking up some graphics.
In the meantime, I’ll have to rely on words. I have in front of me a lovely little wine, the Francois Chidaine, 2007 Val de Loire Touraine Sauvignon, $13 (Whole Foods). Wonderfully, classic, French Sauvignon Blanc. Grapefruit nose, bit grassy, great whistle-clean texture, lean, crisp, and a great food wine, especially with…
But wait, you know how us SOWWs (Society Of Wine Writers) are always going on about great food/wine matches. Well, what about the opposite? The nightmare matches. For instance, I’m drinking this lovely wine, and I decide to have a couple bites of the luscious, decadent, triple cream Castello Blue, and ick! It was like sucking on month-old garbage.
How can two things, lovely by themselves, be so hideous together? A match made in Hell.
But the good news is, if such bad matches do exist, then -applying the rule of inversion- great matches must also exist, and it therefore falls to us SOWWs to steer readers, not always towards, but occasionally away from certain food wine matches.
A task which should certainly earn me an Awbby next year.
Did you know there are awards given to wine bloggers? Neither did I. Not only that, the AWBAs (American Wine Bloggers Awards) are already in their third year. Wow. What’s more shocking, I wasn’t even nominated. What’s up with that?
The gent behind these awards is Tom Wark, and you can visit him, and vote at his Website. Although, the deadline is tonight. But even if you’re too late to vote, it’s a good site for one stop blog shopping (I mean, you’ve already got this one, why go anywhere else, but…).
The site gave me a chance to catch up on other blogs, for, y’know, contrast, compare, see where I stand in relationship with all the other losers who can’t find a job…errr, I mean, with other like-minded, really intelligent people, who just want so much to share their tremendous wealth of information.
One thing I notice is I really suck at graphics. Well, more to the point, I don’t have graphics.
There’s one weird site for instance, that’s all images. Instead of reviewing wines with words, they just have an image, usually provocative, expressive of a particular wine. It reminded me of my late, and widely lamented newsletter, the Wine Iconoclast, where once I did wine reviews in Interpretive Dance. That went over really well.
So I’m going to start cooking up some graphics.
In the meantime, I’ll have to rely on words. I have in front of me a lovely little wine, the Francois Chidaine, 2007 Val de Loire Touraine Sauvignon, $13 (Whole Foods). Wonderfully, classic, French Sauvignon Blanc. Grapefruit nose, bit grassy, great whistle-clean texture, lean, crisp, and a great food wine, especially with…
But wait, you know how us SOWWs (Society Of Wine Writers) are always going on about great food/wine matches. Well, what about the opposite? The nightmare matches. For instance, I’m drinking this lovely wine, and I decide to have a couple bites of the luscious, decadent, triple cream Castello Blue, and ick! It was like sucking on month-old garbage.
How can two things, lovely by themselves, be so hideous together? A match made in Hell.
But the good news is, if such bad matches do exist, then -applying the rule of inversion- great matches must also exist, and it therefore falls to us SOWWs to steer readers, not always towards, but occasionally away from certain food wine matches.
A task which should certainly earn me an Awbby next year.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Bad News, Bad News
We're riding the dinosaurs right into the La Brea Tar Pits. I'm talking about newspapers. Today, The Oregonian announced it's reducing the number of comics it carries from 33 to 23. At the same time, Doonesbury is re-running the segment where Rick Redfern is downsized from his newspaper job, and starts a...check it out...blog! Does that sound familiar?
Right now, it takes me approximately 20 minutes, or a cup of coffee, to get through The Oregonian. I used to finish a whole pot before getting to the comics page. The paper's looking more and more like the wafer chip that is replacing it.
One of the few reasons I even keep the paper is because of the comics section. Now I might have to rethink my strategy. I have tried to sign up to Comics.com, but I keep getting that 'invalid username' thing, so I gave up.
Still and all, The Oregonian manages to run some interesting tidbits. Today there was a story about the legislature trying to make the marionberry the official state berry. But guess what? The blueberry and raspberry contingency got in a hissy fit, and not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, the lawmakers backed off.
But the line that grabbed my attention came when, in its defense, one of the backers of the marionberry called it the 'Cabernet of berries.'
Cabernet? Hey, bonehead, you're in the Willamette Valley, where some 90% of all marionberries are grown. And we don't grow Cabernet in the Willamette Valley. The grape is Pinot Noir. Marionberry is the Pinot Noir of berries. See, I can get in a hissy fit, too.
So it looks like the future belongs to us loser bloggers. In fact, I'm taking it so serioulsy I've started another one. I may end up with a dozen blogs (somehow the Springsteen song '57 Channels and Nothing On' comes to mind).
I'm not sure I want to live in a world without Luann or Wizard of Id, but if I must, the least I can do is blog about it.
Right now, it takes me approximately 20 minutes, or a cup of coffee, to get through The Oregonian. I used to finish a whole pot before getting to the comics page. The paper's looking more and more like the wafer chip that is replacing it.
One of the few reasons I even keep the paper is because of the comics section. Now I might have to rethink my strategy. I have tried to sign up to Comics.com, but I keep getting that 'invalid username' thing, so I gave up.
Still and all, The Oregonian manages to run some interesting tidbits. Today there was a story about the legislature trying to make the marionberry the official state berry. But guess what? The blueberry and raspberry contingency got in a hissy fit, and not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, the lawmakers backed off.
But the line that grabbed my attention came when, in its defense, one of the backers of the marionberry called it the 'Cabernet of berries.'
Cabernet? Hey, bonehead, you're in the Willamette Valley, where some 90% of all marionberries are grown. And we don't grow Cabernet in the Willamette Valley. The grape is Pinot Noir. Marionberry is the Pinot Noir of berries. See, I can get in a hissy fit, too.
So it looks like the future belongs to us loser bloggers. In fact, I'm taking it so serioulsy I've started another one. I may end up with a dozen blogs (somehow the Springsteen song '57 Channels and Nothing On' comes to mind).
I'm not sure I want to live in a world without Luann or Wizard of Id, but if I must, the least I can do is blog about it.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Great Appts
The greatest appetizer in Clark County?
Considering I haven’t had every single appetizer in every single restaurant in our fair county, it’s safe to assume not –but it would be equally dangerous to dismiss it altogether.
The first time I had La Bottega’s Gorgonzola Cheesecake it was a revelation. In part, because I was working on a cookbook (‘A Seriously Cheesy Cookbook’ to be published next fall –if I can find a publisher), and in part because it was fantastic.
I immediately ran home (no, I didn’t, I took the car), and found on the Internet several recipes close to La Bottega’s, right down to the polenta crust. I tried a couple, and found one that was quite good, but the result was a little too dense, almost like a brick. Another recipe was even better, the main difference being the La Bottega version uses roasted garlic cloves around the edge of the cake. But even so, it wasn't quite what I remembered.
So I went back to La Bottega recently, to try it again, and sure enough, their version is light and fluffy, creamy, almost to the consistency of ricotta cheese. It’s easy on the gorgonzola, so if you’re not a huge fan of blue cheese, it’s not in your face. On the other hand, if you love blue cheese, there’s enough gorgonzola flavor to please.
It’s served in a light marinara sauce, with crusty smoky, grilled bread, adding complexity and depth of flavor to the whole dish. It gets two Yums Up.
While there, I decided I’d better find a wine to go with it, and the most obvious choice on the ‘by the glass’ list was the Pravis, 2007 Vignetti Delle Dolomiti Pinot Grigio, $18. Perfect match. The marinara sauce threw it off a bit, but it’s easy to avoid that.
May not be best, but until I try every appetizer in Clark County, I wouldn’t count it out.
Now if I can just duplicate it at home, so I can finish my cookbook.
Considering I haven’t had every single appetizer in every single restaurant in our fair county, it’s safe to assume not –but it would be equally dangerous to dismiss it altogether.
The first time I had La Bottega’s Gorgonzola Cheesecake it was a revelation. In part, because I was working on a cookbook (‘A Seriously Cheesy Cookbook’ to be published next fall –if I can find a publisher), and in part because it was fantastic.
I immediately ran home (no, I didn’t, I took the car), and found on the Internet several recipes close to La Bottega’s, right down to the polenta crust. I tried a couple, and found one that was quite good, but the result was a little too dense, almost like a brick. Another recipe was even better, the main difference being the La Bottega version uses roasted garlic cloves around the edge of the cake. But even so, it wasn't quite what I remembered.
So I went back to La Bottega recently, to try it again, and sure enough, their version is light and fluffy, creamy, almost to the consistency of ricotta cheese. It’s easy on the gorgonzola, so if you’re not a huge fan of blue cheese, it’s not in your face. On the other hand, if you love blue cheese, there’s enough gorgonzola flavor to please.
It’s served in a light marinara sauce, with crusty smoky, grilled bread, adding complexity and depth of flavor to the whole dish. It gets two Yums Up.
While there, I decided I’d better find a wine to go with it, and the most obvious choice on the ‘by the glass’ list was the Pravis, 2007 Vignetti Delle Dolomiti Pinot Grigio, $18. Perfect match. The marinara sauce threw it off a bit, but it’s easy to avoid that.
May not be best, but until I try every appetizer in Clark County, I wouldn’t count it out.
Now if I can just duplicate it at home, so I can finish my cookbook.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Crossed the Swiss border into France at Grinwald. When I peered at the border guard for directions, or some kind of sign, like, ‘hey, dude, you’re in France,’ he turned away, more like, ‘dude, don’t bug me.’
Yup, we were in France, alright.
With LB riding shot-gun, navigating us up through the incredible slopes, our black Passat crammed with five of us, plus luggage, we went whizzing past thousands upon thousands of acres of vineyards, on steep slopes facing -it appeared- due east (may have been a bit of a southern cut), trying not to take my eye off the road, but could not believe all the vines. We got off the autostrasse onto Hwy. 21 heading for Evian-les-Bains. You guessed it, that’s where Evian (water) comes from.
But I wasn’t interested in water, I wanted to know what wine was being grown on those slopes.
That night at dinner, a funky outdoor restaurant (after Champagne), I asked our waiter what the local wine was. He brought us out a bottle of Apremont, a bright, refreshing white wine. Had to be from those vines lining the road.
Very tasty, and fantastic with my duck salad.
And as far as I was concerned, that was that. A nice obscure local wine, never see it again. Wrong-o!
Back in the states, the first wine tasting I went to at Mt. Tabor Fine Wines, I was leaning on a shelf, and looked down to see Pierre Boniface, 2007 Vin de Savoie Apremont, $13. No way!
Obviously snatched it up, and well, you know how sometimes you have a wine at some little Tuscan roadside cafe overlooking a vineyard, with a plate of proscuitto and cantelope, and you think, my god, that’s the best wine I’ve ever had, so you buy a couple bottles, get it home, and it tastes like crap? It’s called the ambiance fallacy.
So did I fall into the same trap? No, in fact Apremont remains one of my favorite white wines. Made from the Jacquere grape, its bright, lemony, crisp, refreshing, with all sorts of nice floral notes. And it’s an excellent seafood wine.
It’s readily available in the Portland market, but up in my neck of the woods, Clark County, it’s not. So if you happen to be down across the border (at Grinwald, for instance), look it up.
Yup, we were in France, alright.
With LB riding shot-gun, navigating us up through the incredible slopes, our black Passat crammed with five of us, plus luggage, we went whizzing past thousands upon thousands of acres of vineyards, on steep slopes facing -it appeared- due east (may have been a bit of a southern cut), trying not to take my eye off the road, but could not believe all the vines. We got off the autostrasse onto Hwy. 21 heading for Evian-les-Bains. You guessed it, that’s where Evian (water) comes from.
But I wasn’t interested in water, I wanted to know what wine was being grown on those slopes.
That night at dinner, a funky outdoor restaurant (after Champagne), I asked our waiter what the local wine was. He brought us out a bottle of Apremont, a bright, refreshing white wine. Had to be from those vines lining the road.
Very tasty, and fantastic with my duck salad.
And as far as I was concerned, that was that. A nice obscure local wine, never see it again. Wrong-o!
Back in the states, the first wine tasting I went to at Mt. Tabor Fine Wines, I was leaning on a shelf, and looked down to see Pierre Boniface, 2007 Vin de Savoie Apremont, $13. No way!
Obviously snatched it up, and well, you know how sometimes you have a wine at some little Tuscan roadside cafe overlooking a vineyard, with a plate of proscuitto and cantelope, and you think, my god, that’s the best wine I’ve ever had, so you buy a couple bottles, get it home, and it tastes like crap? It’s called the ambiance fallacy.
So did I fall into the same trap? No, in fact Apremont remains one of my favorite white wines. Made from the Jacquere grape, its bright, lemony, crisp, refreshing, with all sorts of nice floral notes. And it’s an excellent seafood wine.
It’s readily available in the Portland market, but up in my neck of the woods, Clark County, it’s not. So if you happen to be down across the border (at Grinwald, for instance), look it up.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Contrarian Chardonnay
What, no oak?
What, no sugar?
And you call yourself a California wine maker. Shame, shame, shame.
Right in the middle of my recent snit over sweet, oaky California Chardonnay, what should slip over the transom, but a nice under-oaked Chardonnay, completely screwing up my tirade.
Now let’s be clear about this, we all know California leads the American wine market (mostly by the nose), and so when the Golden State dictates sweet, over-oaked Chardonnay, the U.S. consumer salutes, and cries, ‘bring it on.’
So, I was surprised, if not shocked, when I received a bottle of this Festival ’34, 2007 Central Coast Chardonnay, $13, which (back label) describes itself as ‘crisp… with hints of refreshing citrus.’ Key words for –no oak. By the way, keep an eye on back label descriptors. If you see words like buttery, vanilla, toasty, you know you’re in for an oak ride.
And did this one live up to its self description?
Sure enough, despite fairly high alcohol (13.5) it is crisp. And yes, there are citrus notes. Very aromatic with hints of peach and apple. It’s lean, with intense flavors of green apple, lemon, and a slight grassiness, almost like a sauvignon blanc. Almost.
In other words, a fruit driven, wonderfully tasty Chard.
I gather from the accompanying (vague) notes, this a new winery (or label), so not sure about distribution, but if you want to support the effort to trim excessively oaky wines –look for it.
What, no sugar?
And you call yourself a California wine maker. Shame, shame, shame.
Right in the middle of my recent snit over sweet, oaky California Chardonnay, what should slip over the transom, but a nice under-oaked Chardonnay, completely screwing up my tirade.
Now let’s be clear about this, we all know California leads the American wine market (mostly by the nose), and so when the Golden State dictates sweet, over-oaked Chardonnay, the U.S. consumer salutes, and cries, ‘bring it on.’
So, I was surprised, if not shocked, when I received a bottle of this Festival ’34, 2007 Central Coast Chardonnay, $13, which (back label) describes itself as ‘crisp… with hints of refreshing citrus.’ Key words for –no oak. By the way, keep an eye on back label descriptors. If you see words like buttery, vanilla, toasty, you know you’re in for an oak ride.
And did this one live up to its self description?
Sure enough, despite fairly high alcohol (13.5) it is crisp. And yes, there are citrus notes. Very aromatic with hints of peach and apple. It’s lean, with intense flavors of green apple, lemon, and a slight grassiness, almost like a sauvignon blanc. Almost.
In other words, a fruit driven, wonderfully tasty Chard.
I gather from the accompanying (vague) notes, this a new winery (or label), so not sure about distribution, but if you want to support the effort to trim excessively oaky wines –look for it.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Rooted in a Sea of Purple and Red
I circled the parking lot three times before finding a parking place. Whassup with that?
After all, this a brand new restaurant. Couldn’t have been open more than a month. I thought only us die-hard foodies had heard of it.
So I pushed in the door, and uh-o. The place was packed. It wasn’t even noon yet.
“Table for two?”
Maitress d’ looked worried. “Have reservations?”
“No.”
She bit her lip, ran her finger up and down the seating chart, then, ah-hah. “Follow me.”
Phew. She led me past the bar, stacks of logs, the enormous wood-fire grill, wooden slats of the partition, turned a corner, and Holy Schmoly! A sea of purple and red. There, taking up virtually the entire dining room was –you guessed it, the Red Hat Society. I thought they were some urban myth. A crock. But o no, some 25 elderly ladies, all in purple dresses and brilliant red hats.
We doggie-paddled past and around the society, where a tiny table for two sat lonely and waiting. The maitress d’ told me it was one of only two tables left in the whole restaurant. Her eyeballs rolled to the sea of purple and red.
I waited while LeAnne circled the lot four times, before finding a place, and joining me.
We ordered a glass of wine (her, proseco; I, pinot gris), and then we perused the menu.
It was our first chance to sample the fare of Brad Root’s new venture, Lapellah. Ever since opening Roots, his first sleek and elegant Clark County restaurant, Brad Root has proven the adage; ‘if you build it, they will come.’
Or more precisely, if you put something of quality in the oft maligned market of Vancouver, Wa., people will come. Even dressed in purple and red. Across the parking lot from Roots, next came the superb 360 Pizzeria, an adventurous, ‘trattoria’.
And now, Lapellah, in the Grand Central complex near downtown Vancouver.
Onto the food. While the lunch menu is rife with ‘comfort food’; pot pies, steak and fries, meatloaf sandwich, tuna melt, fish and chips, mac and cheese, there is also a definite nod to N’Orleans cuisine, with Fried Oyster Po’ Boy, Jambalaya, beignets, and gumbo.
LeAnne settled on the cornmeal roasted trout, which was excellent. I had two starters, Oysters Rockefeller and Savory Shrimp Beignets in a red pepper remoulade. Both wonderful.
The prices are more than reasonable, with nothing on the lunch menu over $12.
The wine list is brief, but more than sufficient. I finished up with a glass of Barnard Griffin Syrah, which to my palate is over-oaked (but don’t listen to me, I’ve become a no-oak snob).
Meanwhile, the Red Hat Society finished up their meal, and the leader stood and led them all in bizarre ‘whoosh’ and ‘oooo’ chant. Beats me.
At least they found Lapellah.
After all, this a brand new restaurant. Couldn’t have been open more than a month. I thought only us die-hard foodies had heard of it.
So I pushed in the door, and uh-o. The place was packed. It wasn’t even noon yet.
“Table for two?”
Maitress d’ looked worried. “Have reservations?”
“No.”
She bit her lip, ran her finger up and down the seating chart, then, ah-hah. “Follow me.”
Phew. She led me past the bar, stacks of logs, the enormous wood-fire grill, wooden slats of the partition, turned a corner, and Holy Schmoly! A sea of purple and red. There, taking up virtually the entire dining room was –you guessed it, the Red Hat Society. I thought they were some urban myth. A crock. But o no, some 25 elderly ladies, all in purple dresses and brilliant red hats.
We doggie-paddled past and around the society, where a tiny table for two sat lonely and waiting. The maitress d’ told me it was one of only two tables left in the whole restaurant. Her eyeballs rolled to the sea of purple and red.
I waited while LeAnne circled the lot four times, before finding a place, and joining me.
We ordered a glass of wine (her, proseco; I, pinot gris), and then we perused the menu.
It was our first chance to sample the fare of Brad Root’s new venture, Lapellah. Ever since opening Roots, his first sleek and elegant Clark County restaurant, Brad Root has proven the adage; ‘if you build it, they will come.’
Or more precisely, if you put something of quality in the oft maligned market of Vancouver, Wa., people will come. Even dressed in purple and red. Across the parking lot from Roots, next came the superb 360 Pizzeria, an adventurous, ‘trattoria’.
And now, Lapellah, in the Grand Central complex near downtown Vancouver.
Onto the food. While the lunch menu is rife with ‘comfort food’; pot pies, steak and fries, meatloaf sandwich, tuna melt, fish and chips, mac and cheese, there is also a definite nod to N’Orleans cuisine, with Fried Oyster Po’ Boy, Jambalaya, beignets, and gumbo.
LeAnne settled on the cornmeal roasted trout, which was excellent. I had two starters, Oysters Rockefeller and Savory Shrimp Beignets in a red pepper remoulade. Both wonderful.
The prices are more than reasonable, with nothing on the lunch menu over $12.
The wine list is brief, but more than sufficient. I finished up with a glass of Barnard Griffin Syrah, which to my palate is over-oaked (but don’t listen to me, I’ve become a no-oak snob).
Meanwhile, the Red Hat Society finished up their meal, and the leader stood and led them all in bizarre ‘whoosh’ and ‘oooo’ chant. Beats me.
At least they found Lapellah.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Stupid Land
It’s always the last of the Killer Vs that’ll jump up and bite you.
The ‘Killer Vs’ is my way of sorting out all those various and vague elements that come together to form the specific wine in your glass. Some people liken these elements to the sections of a symphony orchestra. Some dry old dull people just refer to them as simply what they are.
But it’s my blog, so I’ll stick with the Killer Vs.
The first V: Vineyard. Where the grape is grown. What kind of soil. Climate. Micro-climate. Even within a vineyard, specific blocks or rows can determine flavor and structure.
Ancillary to V 1 is V 2: Variety. The right grape planted in the right place. Is Napa Valley the best place to grow Pinot Noir? No. How about Gevrey-Chambertin? O yes. And is the Willamette Valley the right place for Cabernet Sauvignon? Hahahahaha!
V three: Vintner. What the winemaker does once the grapes are in. Gussy it up with a lot of oak. No oak. Oak chips? Move flavors around with different yeasts. Extended maceration? Make a rosé. Manipulation, in short.
V 4: CuVée; okay, I’m cheating here. Although cuvée doesn’t precisely mean blend, it has, in the wine world, taken on that connotation. If you have 40 barrels of Pinot Noir, do you lump them altogether in one big galumphing wine, or make separate lots? Like the Winemaker’s Cuvée, or my Cat’s Cuvée?
V 5: Ven to pick; Or, we could use the French ‘Vendange’, but ver’s the fun in that? When to pick is especially important in a marginal climate like Oregon’s Willamette Valley. The last two harvests, 2007 and 2008, are perfect examples. If you panicked and picked early, you’re sunk. If you waited too long, you may have lost everything. I’m not saying either of these were ‘bad’ vintages. Challenging.
Which brings us to the last of the Killer Vs: Vintage. Not just in terms of, “o 1999 was a great vintage,” or “2006 was a ‘big’ vintage,” but for the consumer, how old is the wine? And is that good or bad? A year old Beaujolais Nouveau is over the hill. While a 20-year-old Bordeaux might not be ready to drink yet
But it’s especially important with white wines. A recent foray into Stupid Land by yours truly will serve as a cautionary tale. I spied at my local Fred’s the Jewell Collection, 2004 Un-Oaked Monterey Chardonnay, $5.99. Woo-hoo! I cried, a no oak Chardonnay for six- bucks. I bought it. Or fell for it.
Then I tasted. It was dull, flat, tired, and slightly oxidized. I grabbed the bottle by the throat and to my horror noted the vintage, 2004. That’s over the hill for California Chardonnay.
Lesson learned. Beware the Killer Vs.
The ‘Killer Vs’ is my way of sorting out all those various and vague elements that come together to form the specific wine in your glass. Some people liken these elements to the sections of a symphony orchestra. Some dry old dull people just refer to them as simply what they are.
But it’s my blog, so I’ll stick with the Killer Vs.
The first V: Vineyard. Where the grape is grown. What kind of soil. Climate. Micro-climate. Even within a vineyard, specific blocks or rows can determine flavor and structure.
Ancillary to V 1 is V 2: Variety. The right grape planted in the right place. Is Napa Valley the best place to grow Pinot Noir? No. How about Gevrey-Chambertin? O yes. And is the Willamette Valley the right place for Cabernet Sauvignon? Hahahahaha!
V three: Vintner. What the winemaker does once the grapes are in. Gussy it up with a lot of oak. No oak. Oak chips? Move flavors around with different yeasts. Extended maceration? Make a rosé. Manipulation, in short.
V 4: CuVée; okay, I’m cheating here. Although cuvée doesn’t precisely mean blend, it has, in the wine world, taken on that connotation. If you have 40 barrels of Pinot Noir, do you lump them altogether in one big galumphing wine, or make separate lots? Like the Winemaker’s Cuvée, or my Cat’s Cuvée?
V 5: Ven to pick; Or, we could use the French ‘Vendange’, but ver’s the fun in that? When to pick is especially important in a marginal climate like Oregon’s Willamette Valley. The last two harvests, 2007 and 2008, are perfect examples. If you panicked and picked early, you’re sunk. If you waited too long, you may have lost everything. I’m not saying either of these were ‘bad’ vintages. Challenging.
Which brings us to the last of the Killer Vs: Vintage. Not just in terms of, “o 1999 was a great vintage,” or “2006 was a ‘big’ vintage,” but for the consumer, how old is the wine? And is that good or bad? A year old Beaujolais Nouveau is over the hill. While a 20-year-old Bordeaux might not be ready to drink yet
But it’s especially important with white wines. A recent foray into Stupid Land by yours truly will serve as a cautionary tale. I spied at my local Fred’s the Jewell Collection, 2004 Un-Oaked Monterey Chardonnay, $5.99. Woo-hoo! I cried, a no oak Chardonnay for six- bucks. I bought it. Or fell for it.
Then I tasted. It was dull, flat, tired, and slightly oxidized. I grabbed the bottle by the throat and to my horror noted the vintage, 2004. That’s over the hill for California Chardonnay.
Lesson learned. Beware the Killer Vs.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Smooth Sailing
Scrolling down this blog line, I can’t help but notice I recommend an inordinate number of French wines. What’s up with that? Well, we’ll concede Italy to Matt Kramer (he’s back!), I’ll take France.
But really and truly, can’t we find some decent local wines? Mais oui! And just to reel in some of my old Salem Statesman Journal readers, how about a couple wines from around the 45th parallel. First up a white, Terrapin Cellars, 2007 Oregon Pinot Gris, $13.
Intriguing little thing, in that it leans dangerously towards RS. Residual Sugar. Not talking dessert wine here, but definitely a bit of sweetness that ‘brings up’ the tropical fruit notes of Pinot Gris. Fairly rich, and with good acidity, it went wonderfully with a mild Kung Pao Chicken (‘mild’ because my Thai peppers had absolutely no kick to them –damn!).
While the wines are made at Eola Hills Winery, the fellow behind Terrapin is Salem area vineyard owner…yikes, his name just slipped right out of my head. Rick something. I should know, as in 2002, I bought pinot blanc from him for my amateur winemaking venture. I’ll think of it.
In the meantime, a red wine with some history. Many years ago there was a winery outside Salem, Silver Falls. I remember it well, because I used to be a jazz columnist, and this winery had summer jazz concerts. I wound up spending much of my time in the tasting room. It wasn’t long afterwards I tossed the jazz hat in favor of the wine writer’s toque.
Don’t blame Silver Falls for that, as they folded somewhere in the early 1990s. And now a resurrection, of sorts. I discovered the Silver Falls Vineyards, 2006 Oregon Pinot Noir, $16, by chance.
I happen to occasion the bar at Beaches in Vancouver, and a while back I was in the mood for Pinot Noir, and Yazmin, the bar keep, bade me try this. And it was good. Maybe suggested by the river outside Beaches' window, I found it smooth sailing. Hints of cherry and floral aromas, soft texture, light, straight-ahead fruit.
Yazmin then told me, it was on the list because one of the owners of Silver Falls is the sister of the owner/manager of Beaches. Happy coincidence.
Getting on the minimalist Silver Falls website, it appears as though this is indeed the old vineyard (thirty-year-old vines), but definitely new owners. This Pinot was made at Chateau Bianca.
We wish them well.
O, the name of that Terrapin guy, Rick…something or other. I’ll think of it.
But really and truly, can’t we find some decent local wines? Mais oui! And just to reel in some of my old Salem Statesman Journal readers, how about a couple wines from around the 45th parallel. First up a white, Terrapin Cellars, 2007 Oregon Pinot Gris, $13.
Intriguing little thing, in that it leans dangerously towards RS. Residual Sugar. Not talking dessert wine here, but definitely a bit of sweetness that ‘brings up’ the tropical fruit notes of Pinot Gris. Fairly rich, and with good acidity, it went wonderfully with a mild Kung Pao Chicken (‘mild’ because my Thai peppers had absolutely no kick to them –damn!).
While the wines are made at Eola Hills Winery, the fellow behind Terrapin is Salem area vineyard owner…yikes, his name just slipped right out of my head. Rick something. I should know, as in 2002, I bought pinot blanc from him for my amateur winemaking venture. I’ll think of it.
In the meantime, a red wine with some history. Many years ago there was a winery outside Salem, Silver Falls. I remember it well, because I used to be a jazz columnist, and this winery had summer jazz concerts. I wound up spending much of my time in the tasting room. It wasn’t long afterwards I tossed the jazz hat in favor of the wine writer’s toque.
Don’t blame Silver Falls for that, as they folded somewhere in the early 1990s. And now a resurrection, of sorts. I discovered the Silver Falls Vineyards, 2006 Oregon Pinot Noir, $16, by chance.
I happen to occasion the bar at Beaches in Vancouver, and a while back I was in the mood for Pinot Noir, and Yazmin, the bar keep, bade me try this. And it was good. Maybe suggested by the river outside Beaches' window, I found it smooth sailing. Hints of cherry and floral aromas, soft texture, light, straight-ahead fruit.
Yazmin then told me, it was on the list because one of the owners of Silver Falls is the sister of the owner/manager of Beaches. Happy coincidence.
Getting on the minimalist Silver Falls website, it appears as though this is indeed the old vineyard (thirty-year-old vines), but definitely new owners. This Pinot was made at Chateau Bianca.
We wish them well.
O, the name of that Terrapin guy, Rick…something or other. I’ll think of it.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
La Vieille Ferme -Boxy Lady
Okay, I promised I’d report back on La Vieille Ferme’s new boxed wine, so, here we go…
But first, an anecdote (you didn’t think you were getting away without an anecdote, now did you?). Six years ago I was strolling down Rue Daguerre, a not-yet-touristy pietons in Paris, when I spied a shop full of small wine casks. Was it a winery? Nosy, I stepped in, and fortunately the gent running the joint spoke more English than I did French. He explained these casks were really bag-in-box wines. Instead of squirting wine from a cheapy cardboard box, you pour from a nice traditional looking small wine barrel.
Boy, wait till Franzia hears about this.
He tried to talk me into purchasing one, but I told him I didn’t think it would fit in my carry-on.
In any case, it reminded me that the French, while very traditional, are not afraid of innovation.
Fast forward to today, strolling through Freddies, and seeing a box of the La Vieille Ferme, NV (non-vintage) Cotes du Ventoux (red), $21. I’ve been a fan of this southern France producer for a long time, all its whites, reds and rosés. The red is a classic blend of 50% Grenache, 20% Syrah, 15% Carignan, and 15% Cinsault.
In the bottle they’re reasonably enough priced, under $10. But the box is the equivalent of four bottles, making it quite a deal.
But is it any good?
The first thing that struck me is how fruity it is. My recollection of the bottled wine is that it’s more lean and angular. But this is up-front fresh and pretty. After a while in the glass, however, the Grenache kicks in, and a kind of raw raciness emerges.
Maybe preserved in the bag keeps the wine fresh and fruity. But if you prefer it (as I do) a little more lean and food-friendly, pour it in a glass, and go for a walk around the block.
Speaking of which, I have some bad news. Last time I was strolling down Rue Daguerre that wine shop was gone. Maybe the French aren’t so forgiving of innovation.
But first, an anecdote (you didn’t think you were getting away without an anecdote, now did you?). Six years ago I was strolling down Rue Daguerre, a not-yet-touristy pietons in Paris, when I spied a shop full of small wine casks. Was it a winery? Nosy, I stepped in, and fortunately the gent running the joint spoke more English than I did French. He explained these casks were really bag-in-box wines. Instead of squirting wine from a cheapy cardboard box, you pour from a nice traditional looking small wine barrel.
Boy, wait till Franzia hears about this.
He tried to talk me into purchasing one, but I told him I didn’t think it would fit in my carry-on.
In any case, it reminded me that the French, while very traditional, are not afraid of innovation.
Fast forward to today, strolling through Freddies, and seeing a box of the La Vieille Ferme, NV (non-vintage) Cotes du Ventoux (red), $21. I’ve been a fan of this southern France producer for a long time, all its whites, reds and rosés. The red is a classic blend of 50% Grenache, 20% Syrah, 15% Carignan, and 15% Cinsault.
In the bottle they’re reasonably enough priced, under $10. But the box is the equivalent of four bottles, making it quite a deal.
But is it any good?
The first thing that struck me is how fruity it is. My recollection of the bottled wine is that it’s more lean and angular. But this is up-front fresh and pretty. After a while in the glass, however, the Grenache kicks in, and a kind of raw raciness emerges.
Maybe preserved in the bag keeps the wine fresh and fruity. But if you prefer it (as I do) a little more lean and food-friendly, pour it in a glass, and go for a walk around the block.
Speaking of which, I have some bad news. Last time I was strolling down Rue Daguerre that wine shop was gone. Maybe the French aren’t so forgiving of innovation.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Circle the wagons. Start bailing water. Omigod, run for your lives!
Yes, the world as we know it is coming to an end. And there’s a small band of wayward wanderers whose livelihood is in serious jeopardy. I’m talking about the rapidly diminishing prospects of the lowly Wine Writer.
And it’s not just yours truly. (Sidebar -I just read that Gannett papers, which runs my old playground, the Salem Statesman Journal, is imposing a ‘furlough’ on most of its employees for one week. Unpaid. What is USA Today going to do? Publish re-runs for a week? The Greatest Hits? Hey, look, the Yankees won the World Series...Hahaha.)
The Columbian hasn’t had a wine columnist since I fired them (they weren’t living up to my expectations) back in 1999. And readers of the Oregonian may have noticed last Sunday, no Matt Kramer column. And that person who writes for Fooday –not there this week. Furloughs? Axe? I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.
And who’s suffering most, writers or readers? The Oregonian has already eliminated its Wednesday Science section, and the Monday paper is as slim as a paper clip. Okay, so on the one hand you get through the paper a lot faster every morning, but on the other hand, where’s our well-rounded world and cultural coverage? Where are we going to get our daily dose of information?
Well, I do have a solution for my own brethren and cistern. Form a wine writers consortium, SOWW (Society of Wine Writers). Just like AP, us SOWWs will develop, produce and distribute wine columns. Cheaper for the papers, we still have a voice, and make no more money than we ever did.
Because without your friendly wine writer, how would you know that La Vieille Ferme is now available in a box? You wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t know what it tastes like…and I won’t either, until I sample it, and report back in my next Blog.
Yes, the world as we know it is coming to an end. And there’s a small band of wayward wanderers whose livelihood is in serious jeopardy. I’m talking about the rapidly diminishing prospects of the lowly Wine Writer.
And it’s not just yours truly. (Sidebar -I just read that Gannett papers, which runs my old playground, the Salem Statesman Journal, is imposing a ‘furlough’ on most of its employees for one week. Unpaid. What is USA Today going to do? Publish re-runs for a week? The Greatest Hits? Hey, look, the Yankees won the World Series...Hahaha.)
The Columbian hasn’t had a wine columnist since I fired them (they weren’t living up to my expectations) back in 1999. And readers of the Oregonian may have noticed last Sunday, no Matt Kramer column. And that person who writes for Fooday –not there this week. Furloughs? Axe? I don’t know. But it doesn’t look good.
And who’s suffering most, writers or readers? The Oregonian has already eliminated its Wednesday Science section, and the Monday paper is as slim as a paper clip. Okay, so on the one hand you get through the paper a lot faster every morning, but on the other hand, where’s our well-rounded world and cultural coverage? Where are we going to get our daily dose of information?
Well, I do have a solution for my own brethren and cistern. Form a wine writers consortium, SOWW (Society of Wine Writers). Just like AP, us SOWWs will develop, produce and distribute wine columns. Cheaper for the papers, we still have a voice, and make no more money than we ever did.
Because without your friendly wine writer, how would you know that La Vieille Ferme is now available in a box? You wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t know what it tastes like…and I won’t either, until I sample it, and report back in my next Blog.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Cheap Shots
So, what's Bobby got in his mouth today?
Oak. Or is it wood chips? Or some chemical ingredient to simulate the taste of oak.
As you might guess, I've been drinking some cheap California chardonnay lately. Sweet, oaky. And if it's cheap, that probably means that oakiness does not come from real barrels, but from artificial flavoring. Add a little dab of vanilla, touch of butterscotch...mmm, just right.
What's the remedy? Try the Louis Jadot, 2006 Macon-Villages Chardonnay, $15. Pure straight-ahead chardonnay flavor. Typical of the Macon, this has great refreshing flavors of lemon, roasted pine nut, and green apple. And you won't need a toothpick afterwards.
-----
When I write about bubbly I usually include something about the fact that every wine region of France produces sparkling wine (Champagne being the champ), with the exception of Bordeaux. So what did I stumble on the other day? The Jaillance, Brut Rose Cremant de Bordeaux, $14. A freakish little number, composed of 70% Cabernet Sauvignon and 30% Merlot, this has loads of bold berry and spice flavors. There's a racy note of bitter chocolate that makes it even more intriguing.
I found it at my local Fred Meyer so it should be readily available.
Oak. Or is it wood chips? Or some chemical ingredient to simulate the taste of oak.
As you might guess, I've been drinking some cheap California chardonnay lately. Sweet, oaky. And if it's cheap, that probably means that oakiness does not come from real barrels, but from artificial flavoring. Add a little dab of vanilla, touch of butterscotch...mmm, just right.
What's the remedy? Try the Louis Jadot, 2006 Macon-Villages Chardonnay, $15. Pure straight-ahead chardonnay flavor. Typical of the Macon, this has great refreshing flavors of lemon, roasted pine nut, and green apple. And you won't need a toothpick afterwards.
-----
When I write about bubbly I usually include something about the fact that every wine region of France produces sparkling wine (Champagne being the champ), with the exception of Bordeaux. So what did I stumble on the other day? The Jaillance, Brut Rose Cremant de Bordeaux, $14. A freakish little number, composed of 70% Cabernet Sauvignon and 30% Merlot, this has loads of bold berry and spice flavors. There's a racy note of bitter chocolate that makes it even more intriguing.
I found it at my local Fred Meyer so it should be readily available.
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