There are so many great food events going on in the next few weeks, it's hard to choose. Here are three that particularly caught my eye and whet my appetite.


Next Thursday March 27th, 2008 is the Wine Enthusiast Toast of the Town. Attending will be 70 domestic and international wine producers including Trinchero, Mumm Napa, Champagne Piper-Heidsiek, Rodney Strong Vineyards and J. Lohr Vineyards. A complete list of invited wine vendors is available here. The event will be held at the War Memorial Opera House.

I spoke to one of the organizers and got a sneak peek at just a few of the dishes that participating restaurants will be serving.

Bar Tartine
Blood Orange-cured Sardines with Asparagus & Soft-boiled Egg Vinaigrette

Bistro Jeanty
Crème de Tomate en Croûte - Tomato Soup in Puff Pastry

Café Gibraltar
• Moroccan Lamb & Beef Tagine – Savory Mélange of Beef and Lamb Shoulder, with Seasonal Vegetables, Chickpeas and Fingerling Potatoes in a Savory Date-mild Chile-Harissa Glaze

• Algerian Vegetable Couscous – Seasonal Vegetables, Chickpeas and Currants in a Roasted Sweet Pepper-Saffron broth, Served Atop House-Rolled Couscous

Campton Place
Spot Prawn Sashimi on Watermelon Carpaccio Chutnied Mango Chili Fizz with Apple & Wild Rocket Gazpacho Air

Étoile at Domaine Chandon
Braised Veal Cheek, Morel Mushrooms, English Pea Purée and Preserved Meyer Lemon

Go Fish Restaurant
Scallop and Shrimp Ceviche

PlumpJack Cafe
Ramp Panna Cotta with Langoustine and Pickled Cloud

Poleng Lounge
Walu Kinilaw – Hawaiian Butterfish, Toybox Tomatoes, Shallots, Cilantro, Coconut Milk, hand-harvested Philippine Sea Salt

Postrio
Tuna en Ponzu Gelée with Wasabi Tobiko, Lemon and Shiso

Pres a Vi
Hamachi Two Ways –
• Teradito with Anju Pepper Aioli, Siracha, Blood Orange Oil and Micro Cilantro
• Poke with Inamona, Soy, Lemon Zest and Wasabi Tobiko

Rivoli Restaurant
Rivoli Smoked Beef on a Cheddar Biscuit with Horseradish Cream and Pickled Onion Relish

The Grand Tasting is from 7-10 pm and tickets are $95. A silent auction at the event will benefit America's Second Harvest The Nation's Food Bank.



Share our Strength's Taste of the Nation is also a benefit for America's Second Harvest with a focus on ending childhood hunger. It will be held April 6th, 2008 at Acme Chophouse.

From 6:30-7:30pm you'll enjoy appetizers from top local restaurants before a sit-down dinner prepared by the Next Iron Chef contenders and wine pairings from top sommeliers and live and silent auctions. The chefs for the dinner will be:

Michael Symon of Cleveland's Lola and Lolita

Traci Des Jardins of Acme Chophouse, Jardiniere and Mijita

Chris Cosentino of Incanto

Gavin Kaysen of NYC's Café Boulud

Elizabeth Falkner of Citizen Cake and Orson (dessert)

Tickets are $250 and 100% of your ticket purchase goes directly to Share Our Strength.



If you are still waiting for your economic stimulus check, here's a bargain opportunity to enjoy a taste of Spain.

Tonight, March 19th, 2008, at 6 pm Gerald Hirigoyen of Bocadillos and Piperade will create Basque-inspired small plates at Macy's Union Square as part of A Mosaic of Spain, Macy's Annual Flower Show. Jon Bonne, wine editor at the SF Chronicle and Andy Booth, owner of the Spanish Table will be on hand to discuss wine pairings.

In addition to food and wine samples, you'll receive a 60-day subscrition to Zagat.com and VIP card from City Dish.

Tickets are $10 and benefit the Espanola de California.

Labels: amy sherman, events, restaurants, san francisco, Spanish food, wine

The holidays are fast approaching, whether you like it or not. For many of us, that means a major spike in entertaining, either of the at-home or in-a-restaurant variety. In the course of all this entertaining, an increase in the amount of wine purchased and consumed enters into the picture. At least in my circles, anyway.

I serve wine to people. It's just one facet among many in my job profile. Recently, in a fit of boredom, I came to the conservative conclusion that I have served at least 140,000 people in my eighteen years of service as a waiter. Granted, some of them are repeat customers, but that's still a lot of folks. In fact, that's about the entire population of Pasadena, California. By next year, I will have well outgrown that estimate. I hope to retire before I reach, say, Oakland.

During the course of serving all those people, I have opened roughly 25,000 bottles of wine, or, the equivalent of one bottle of wine for each person living Atascadero, California. I can't confirm any of this, of course, since I am uncertain as to whether or not the residents of the State Hospital are allowed alcohol. But that is one hell of a lot of wine. 18,750,000 milliliters. Sadly, I'm too stupid to convert that number into liters.

In all my years as a waiter, I have been mildly alarmed by the number of people who seem bewildered by the process of wine service. There are those of you who tense up (you know who you are) as your server approaches with the bottle. It can be as subtle as nervous little clearing of the throat, or as depressing as blurting out that you know nothing about wine tasting and pointing a finger at one of your dining companions to do the job for you. There is no need for that, really. Then, of course, there are those of you who feel the need to emote like a silent film actor. I applaud your enthusiasm. I really do. Of course, I'll probably point you out to the other waiters, but I applaud your enthusiasm just the same.

As a civilian, I have often been saddened by the shaky hands of servers who appear to have no confidence in their ability to pop a cork out of a bottle, especially if it's an expensive wine. Very seldom do I see the ritual performed properly. Everything from dripping wine on the tablecloth, which is forgivable, to taking the bottle of wine away from the table to open the cork, which is unforgivable, to putting the bottle of wine between their legs while removing the cork, which brings to my mind certain unpleasantries of the human digestive system or perhaps a crescendo of sexual excitement. In either case, I don't want those particular corks on my table.

Apart from my introductory ramble, this is a fairly straightforward sermon today, designed to clarify any problems or discomfort at the table. It's called:

How to behave when a bottle of wine is being opened for you.

1. Let's pretend that you have ordered the above-pictured bottle of wine, a 2004 Tenuta San Guido "Guidalberto". Excellent choice, by the way. The server or sommelier will hopefully return with the bottle cradled like some precious baby in his arms (or her, I am not going to spend my time writing s/he him/her, so please excuse me) and present the bottle, label facing towards to you.

2. He will verbalize the producer (Tenuta San Guido), the varietal (If it is a New World wine. In this case, the varietal is not labeled as a Merlot-Cabernet-Sangiovese blend) or name of the wine (Guidalberto) and the vintage (2004). This is extremely important. Stop talking to your girlfriend and pay attention for a moment. Is this the wine you ordered? Yes? Good. Now is it the correct vintage? That's important. For example, in 2003, there was a major heat wave that killed hundreds of Europeans over the summer. Not that that has anything to do with wine, mind you, but it did make for fruitier wines that year. If the vintage on offer differs from what is advertised on the wine list, that's nothing unusual. Time-- and vintage-- marches on. Just be sure to clarify this with whoever serves your wine.

3. When the wine is opened, the cork should be placed in front of you, just to the right. Just eyeball it. There is no need to sniff it. Most likely, it will smell like a cork with some wine on it. Sniffing a cork and then smelling your wine will do you no good whatsoever. The purpose of presenting the cork is to show the condition of storage. Is the outer edge dry and the inner wet? Excellent. If the inner part of the cork is dry, that could mean that the wine was stored poorly-- like straight up-- which is bad. Very bad. If the outside of the cork is wet, that means seepage, which is worse.

If a bottle of wine has been sealed with a Stelvin enclosure (that's what those screw caps are called), it should not be placed on the table. I made the mistake of presenting the cap to one of my diners not too long ago, because we were all playing at being overly formal with the wine. He picked up the cap between his fingertips and waved it dramatically under his nose. I'm glad I had my serviette handy to catch some of the blood.

3. The only thing you need your nose to do (apart from breathing) is smell the wine once a taste has been poured for you. You are only looking for defects like oxidation and spoilage. Please do not comment on the wine's legs. You are not supposed to pass any other judgements on the wine at that moment. Is it fit for consumption? Yes? Good.

4. What if you don't like the wine? If you have ordered the wine on your own and simply do not like it, you may be considered "at fault." No one told you to order it. It's not as cherry ripe as you were expecting? Sorry. Now if you have the advice of the sommelier and he has lead you severely astray (they are, however, typically trained to steer you in the other direction), you've got a case. Thankfully, I work in a place that isn't going to argue with a guest about wine. Don't like it? Hey, we'll drink it later! Can I get you something else? That makes my life much more pleasant, anyway.

5. Alright. You've given your nod to the person who has opened your wine. He will then pour out for your guests, saving you for last. Do not pour your own wine. Let the server do that. Unless he is a particularly bad server and you are forced to. You should never be forced to.

Wasn't that easy? And it only took about 90 seconds.

I've added a great link to a little series of videos about how to serve wine from Hospitality University. Sounds rather Canadian to me...

Labels: michael procopio, wine

Hey y'all -- there is a story on wine in Napa on QUEST tonight that you won't want to miss. QUEST is KQED's new TV, radio, web, and education project about science and environment in Northern California, and their latest science story has taken them to Napa Valley. The story is titled "Napa Wineries Face Global Warming" and explores the potential effects of climate change on the unique ecology and climate of Napa Valley.

The Napa and Sonoma microclimates produce world famous wines, but what happens if the climate changes? Scientists are predicting that global warming could increase the number of super-hot days in the California wine region, interfering with the way grapes ripen. Local scientists and wineries are beginning to look at how to prepare.



Post by Craig Rosa, Interactive Producer, QUEST

Labels: global warming, KQED, KTEH, Napa, quest, science, sonoma, wine

Wine pairing fascinates me. Perhaps because I develop recipes for a wine retailer, I take it very seriously. I approach it as a puzzle with more than one solution. I enjoy finding at least one way to answer the question "what goes with what."

If you read any book or guide to wine pairing, you'll often come across a bit of advice that says something to the effect--drink what like. After that disclaimer is issued, a listing and philosophy unfolds. There are a myriad of different ways people pair wines with food. I try not to view these lists and philosophies as rules, but as guidelines or instructive stories. I imagine the author telling me "hey, one time I tried this wine with this dish and it was delicious, you might like it too."

This week over at the San Francisco Bay Guardian, Paul Reidinger wrote an article titled Porn in Pairs The best pairings are food, wine, and connections to other people. In it he mocked the obsessive accounts that sometimes take place when recommending a certain wine with a certain dish.

"Although my subscription to Annals of Wine Pornography has lapsed, I still glean the occasional fetishistic detail from other press outlets -- in particular, obsessive accounts of how this vintage of that winemaker's reserve pinot noir pairs brilliantly with a particular kind of sheep's milk cheese, left at room temperature for an hour, then smeared over some kind of heirloom fig that's been grilled, cut side up, over a medium applewood fire for six to eight minutes while the grill chef recites poetry."

I get it, because I've read those descriptions as well. And perhaps we've gone a bit too far. Recently a friend pointed out recommendations in Saveur magazine for specific wines with different cuts of steak! Ultimately, I enjoy wine pairing because it helps me to identify the nuances in food and wine, but even that is irrelevant without the right company at the table. The ultimate food and wine pairing happens when the experience of being together is enhanced. I'll try not to forget that as I go about suggesting yet another dish to serve with Cabernet Sauvignon...

Labels: amy sherman, wine

The first time I heard about biodynamic wine, it sounded, to me, like some odd French marketing gimmick. Not an unreasonable thought, considering the fact the bottle of wine being discussed was from Chateauneuf-du-Pape, a place known for prohibiting flying saucers or, as the French call them les cigares volantes from landing in their vineyards. I find it reassuring to me to see the French senses humor and creativity so alive and well. Of course, such laws also illustrate an equally French no non-sense approach to what fuels these qualities-- wine.

All we knew at the time was that biodynamic winemaking had something to do with the full moon. We all had a good laugh. My boss kept asking if various items around the restaurant -- it could have been a chair or a dog for all he cared-- were biodynamique. He just liked to say it. In French.

Biodynamism was, we thought, similar to organic winemaking, only more hippie-like.

I feel so ashamed of myself, I could just spit. It might be hippie-like, but it is definitely worth taking seriously.

So what exactly is biodynamic winemaking?

It is a category of biodynamic agriculture, which is essentially an organic farming system based primarily upon eight lectures on anthroposophy given by Rudolph Steiner in Germany in 1924.

Even in 1924, when man's faith in better living through chemistry was picking up speed, Steiner was convinced that the quality of food was being degraded by the use of artificial fertilizers and pesticides. Sounds very much like our modern, and fortunately blossoming, organic agricultural movement. What set Steiner and his biodynamism apart from the organic philosophy was more than his belief in the spiritual shortcomings of a chemical approach to farming. Steiner considered the world and everything in it as simultaneously spiritual and material in nature, that living matter was different from dead matter. He also believed in the influence of planetary events on agricultural crops. Ah, there's that moon reference.

Biodynamism is, more or less, a very holistic approach to organic farming.

You are, at this point, either yawning or scratching your head. If the former is the case, go get yourself a coffee and come back when your caffeine has kicked in. If the latter is true, read on and follow these links pertaining to biodynamic agriculture, vitalism and Demeter International and then get back to me. I'm happy to wait. It's a rather complex topic. One, with a slight bow to irony, not easily digested.

Two days ago, my fellow co-workers and I were fortunate enough to have someone explain it all-- or, at least his application of biodynamism-- to us.

Fresh from his stint as cover model for next week's Wine Spectator, Mike Benziger took some time out to both explain his biodynamic approach to winemaking and to let us taste the results-- his 2004 vintage Tribute.



He began his talk by asking us about various alcoholic beverages. What does beer do to you? He mentioned that it made one tired and gassy. Tequila? I muttered something about how it renders one stupid and causes one to sleep with people one might otherwise regret sleeping with sober. And wine?

"Wine is a high energy substance, it changes the spirit of the room as soon as the bottle is opened. Wine connects us to the sun, to the earth and to each other."

In two sentences, Benziger encapsulated what I belive to be essence of biodynamic winemaking, in as much as I can gather. Wine just might be the poster child for this approach to agriculture-- a mingling of living and dead matter that, if you will forgive me for saying, creates its own life force, therby enhancing our own. Unless, I thought, one drinks excessive amounts of it and dies of alcohol poisoning, I reminded myself that biodynamism is about cosmic balance and the thought passed.

To Benziger, biodynamism is about a personal connection to the land. And he is certainly connected to his. He's been working his 85 acres for the past twenty-five years. Only forty of which are planted with vines. The rest, in the closed farming tradition of biodynamism, are occupied by such things as stables, insectaries and pasture.

Biodynamism considers the environment more important than the plant, the whole trumping any of its parts. In Benziger's vineyard, one might be overwhelmed by environment, or at least cataloging it. His vines are planted in a circle created naturally by volcanic crater. Over the years, Benziger has recognized thirty-one distinct microclimates within that circle-- each contributing it's own particular qualities to the final blend of his wine.

Biodynamism dictates that man work within nature's boundaries rather than bend it to his own will. This, of course, is a dictum impossible to follow since agriculture is essentially a system created by man to exploit and propagate that nature which serves him best and eliminate--or at least exclude-- that which does not. Those rabid enough to adhere to such a strict construction would be reduced, in my opinion, to hunting and gathering. Fortunately, Benziger and, I'm sure, most other biodynamic farmers approach this idea with a more practical spirit.

To eliminate a dependence upon chemical pesticides, plants are planted to attract beneficial insects to the vineyards. Insects are neither purchased nor physically transported, but rather invited onto the property by means of what Benziger refers to as "bug highways"-- swaths of specific plants that lure the insects directly into the vineyard.

In addition to insects and creative planting, various animals are utilized to keep down the number of pests-- chickens and owls, for example. Grazers, such as Scottish Highland cattle and sheep keep weeds in check and remove any need for chemical fertilizers. "Sheep are a great viticultural tool." quipped Benziger, "They do three things for us: they eat, shit and turn the soil with their hooves." Who needs a tractor?

With the removal of chemical pesticides and fertilizer comes the eventual return of native yeasts, which are, he believes, essential to the character of his wine.

The goal with biodynamic farming is a closed environmental system. The borders between natural and farmed areas eventually merge and begin to speak, as Benziger says, "the language of terroir." Which, of course, is also essential to the character of his wine.

And how does biodynamism apply to the process of winemaking?

Here's where the moon comes in. Don't cringe. It makes perfect sense. Wine is racked only under a new moon. Why? sendiment is at its most compact at this time. The tidal pull of a full moon causes it to puff up.

Biodynamic regulations, as laid down by Demeter International, also dictate that no yeast or malolactic bacteria may be added to the wine though sulpher dioxide is allowed. Apologies, I forgot to ask why this was so., I was busy drawing the Demeter logo in my notebook, since the logo on Benziger's bottle did not photograph well:



The logo sums it up, I'd say. From the top left and working clockwise around the four quadrants are: fire, air, earth (which I drew somewhat inaccurately) and water. Everything in the universe, according to the Ancients, was comprised of some combination of these elements. What the logo does not show, however is a fifth element; one created when the four other elements get together-- spirit. It does sport a rather intriguing symbol directly under the name Demeter. Being the strong fertility goddess she was to the Greeks, I am not certain if the symbol represents some sort of budding plantlife or not. I prefer to see it as a highly stylized hermaphrodite. One with enormous breasts and a penis dangling between its legs. How much more fertile can one get than that?

Okay. We've heard about how the vines were tended and how the grapes were vinified. But what about the taste? Benziger poured.

It was good. It was more than good, truthfully. Everyone in the room agreed. I must add here that I am talking about a room full of people who have, at one time, more or less rejected California Cabernet Sauvignons and blends thereof as showy and often juvenile-- an embarrassment to be around. Not that they all are, but more in the spirit of rejecting one's parents as an embarrassment in one's teenage years.

Benziger's 2004 Tribute is a well balanced wine, with soft-but-present tannin, hints of cedar, black cherry and, not surprisingly given todays topic of biodynamism, a certain earthiness. The finish lingered. It doesn't try to out-macho its neighbors with an over-powering amout of oak. Silver Oak is a man who wears too much Brut and tells time by his gaudy Rolex. Tribute stands by its own, natural masculine scent and tells time by the position of the sun in the sky. Orthe moon, depending upon the time of day.

More importantly, I imagined I could taste everything that went into making the wine-- the volcanic crater, the bees, even the Scottish Highland cows. Not literally, mind you but, knowing the effort and, well, the love that went into making this wine made the experience of drinking it even more pleasurable.

After the Benziger's talk, my wine director was excited. "You're going to see a lot more of these wines coming along." I'm glad. It's the wave of the future that many winemakers are considering riding. Wave of the future. Odd how a technique older than Charlemagne can be considered futuristic. Winemaking has now made a full circle-- or is it full cycle?-- like the moon that rules over the biodynamic process. It's about time.

I'll stop giggling now. I promise.

*Note. The pyramid diagram is borrowed from the Benziger website.

Labels: biodynamism, michael procopio, mike benziger, wine

Barely over my ecstasy from that first amaranth-hued glass, I decided to sample another grape-smeared offering from Marin Wines, their Mount Tamalpais Merlot. My god. My GOD!

Now, yes, Merlot has been battered about by the Hollywood likes of Sideways and bad examples of the glass. And, because it had been at least five years since I traded in my last glass of Merlot for Zinfandels, Francs, Barbarescos, and anything found in the Rhone, I also laughed knowingly along with the rest of the Northern California audience as Paul Giamatti's character, Miles, slagged off on the once-popular wine.

It wasn't even that I agreed with what his character, Miles, said about Merlot, it's that I had long left what I considered a cloyingly sweet and flat red for rougher cut pastures and vines. Certain Merlots were shuddering reminders of my White Zinfandel-tinted youth, and I knew that my palette had grown up and was guiding me to richer and more complex climes.

However, last year I went to a traveling seminar sponsored by Swanson Vineyards called "Merlot Fights Back." Not only did I get reintroduced to Merlot and reminded just how good that beleaguered grape can be, but I learned that the special bottle of '61 Cheval Blanc Miles had been saving was a 50/50 blend of Cabernet Franc and Merlot. That's right, fifty percent "fucking Merlot." However, I still wasn't buying it by the bottle or even ordering it in restaurants. Until now.

Mount Tamalpais Merlot is remarkably robust and much more like the Bordeaux of old than the fruity, jammy, Smucker's Merlots I had given up. Rich and musty with shifting prisms of loamy complexity, this Merlot massaged my soul with long, intense strokes. After one sip, I felt myself sinking bodily into my garnet glass.

As with any new and exciting bottle, this wine deserved a special dinner, so I paired it with a flagelot bean gratin, rare rosemary-flecked sirloin lamb chops, and a peppery watercress, fennel, and French Breakfast radish salad. Limbs entangled endlessly, the creamy beans, the gamey lamb, and the crunch-spice salad wallowed happily with the velvet-tongued wine.

You can buy Mount Tamalpais Merlot at PlumpJack Wines and the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant in San Francisco, at Tomales Bay Foods in Point Reyes, and from the Marin Wine website.

Mount Tamalpais Merlot, 2004, $25.00

Labels: mount tamalpais merlot, pey-marin wines, sideways, stephanie v.w. lucianovic, wine

This past Memorial Day took me out of the cold, foggy city and up to sun-drenched Pt. Reyes Station to celebrate Cowgirl Creamery's 10th Anniversary. Cowgirls, Cowboys, and friends and families of both gathered under circus-peaked tents to listen to the inspirational words of The Cowgirls (Peg Smith and Sue Conley), Albert Straus of Straus Family Creamery, and Janet Brown of AllStar Organics. After the speeches, the entire staff plus the Straus family and some honored customers, stood for a very long time for a very large photo and then finally went into the closed-on-Mondays Tomales Bay Foods barn to chow down on the homemade potluck.

I balanced a satisfyingly heavy plate of Laura's Kitchen Sink Mac and Cheese, chorizo, cornbread, salad, and my own basil-mint pesto edamame in one hand and grabbed at a wine glass with the other. I had taken a long sip of the Mount Tamalpais Vin Gris 2006 and was just starting to think that it was the best pink wine I had tasted in about ten years when I heard someone behind me ask, "How's the wine?" I turned around to see a tall guy wearing a yellow Pey-Marin tee-shirt that matched the label on another bottle sitting on the bar. I babbled about how fabulously spicy and dry the rosé was. How I hadn't had a wine like that since I tasted my very first Rosé d'Anjou. How THIS was the kind of stiff rosé I could snuggle up with any day of the week. Then I caught myself and, gesturing at his shirt, I added politely, "Of course, I haven't tried your wine yet." Well, I had, because Pey-Marin and Mount Tamalpais are labels from the same wine-making family, Susan and Jonathan Pey of Marin Wines. Jonathan smiled at me and said, "I just wanted an honest reaction."

Well, he got it. This vin gris is insanely good. It went with everything on my plate -- the rich mac and cheese, the stingingly spicy chorizo, the fresh basil-mint pesto, everything. I had to have a bottle of this. Jonathan told me I could find it at Plumpjack and the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant in the city.

The bottle secured a week later, I set about trying to confuse the wine with a whole host of foods. Secretly, I knew it could stand up to every single one of them, but I still had to try. We sat down to a dinner of minted Iacopi English peas with red onion, garlic, and roasted Dirty Girl turnips, homemade black pepper fettuccine with a wild mushroom-thyme cream sauce, and a beet salad with spicy greens (Heirloom Organics tatsoi and arugula and Four Sisters flowering watercress). The vin gris not only stood up to everything, including the rich and earthy mushroom sauce, but it actually gave each dish a shove back, asserting its own strong personality without shouting them down. My amaranth-hued glass gleamed back at me across my plate as if to say, "Is that all you've got? Because I can take it. Bring it on, my friend. Bring. It. On."

Even the color is fierce! None of this blush and bashful pink that's barely a whisper of color, this was wildhotcrazy lascivious pink. The pink of deep-bosomed sunsets, the pink of Barbie's dress from the 80s (you know the one I mean), the pink of Belle Watling's sheets, the discontinued pink of a Clinique lipstick I wore in high school. This Mount Tamalpais Vin Gris isn't "pink," it's "PINK!"

I don't know much about wines. I just know what I like, and I loved this.

Mount Tamalpais Vin Gris 2006, $18.00

Next Week: Mount Tamalpais Merlot

Labels: mount tamalpais vin gris, pey-marin wines, pink wine, rose, stephanie lucianovic, wine

I've done a lot in my effort to learn more about wine. I've drunk and I've drunk and I've drunk, but to be honest I haven't read all that much until now. Just recently several wonderful wine books have really caught my attention. A Moveable Thirst Tales and Tastes from a Season in Napa Wine Country is one of those books.

The premise of the book is that a journalist and a wine buyer decide to visit all 141 public tasting rooms in Napa over the course of a season. Part of the book is really an in-depth guide to the wineries with details like service, wine availability, picnic prospect and even "intangibles and extras" that includes things like "this winery is worth the effort to find" or "this room is aimed at novices".

The "quest" portion of the book will have you laughing out loud. As Kushman bemoans his lack of spitting ability he is made to feel like an expert when he overhears other tasters ask, if the wine tastes like apricots does that mean they put apricots in the wine? And why do they call it a finish?

Napa is a region you could spend years getting to know. The authors of this book have done a lot of the legwork to help you make the most of your time in Napa. But those who plan no trips to Napa will enjoy it and learn something too. The information in the book ranges from the useful, like which Napa vintners are making Old World style wines to the trivial---did you know that one out of ten bottles of wine sold in America is White Zinfandel?

Another book that features the pairing of a novice and an expert is Educating Peter.

For my review of Educating Peter by Food & Wine editor Lettie Teague, head over to Cooking with Amy.

Labels: amy sherman, books, Napa, wine

The invitation from Tim "Blind Muscat" Patterson was a two-part, April Fool's proposition. First, we'd get to help him bottle a batch of rosé, a mongrel mix of this year's Malbec, Syrah, Cabernet Franc, and Zinfandel. Then, there'd be the festive unbottling of the selfsame wine. What better way to celebrate Subterranean Cellars' acquisition of water and electricity? The expansion of the patio and the recent arrival of a BBQ rig were additional excuses for an all-day drink-and-eat-fest.

Though far from a wine expert, I knew I'd be there when I read the menu's magic words: pulled pork.


The newly equipped premises of Subterranean Cellars, with a peek back to the just-assembled patio table.


A barrel of Mourvedre sits patiently in the laundry room.

On Sunday morning a crew of bottlers arrived early. Long before gospel hymns swelled from the church across the street, all the bottles were filled, corked, capped, and labeled.


Out on the driveway, three cases of wine receive corks the old-fashioned way.


With corks securely in place, the bottles then head to the kitchen's high-tech steaming device for capping.


In the dining room, those with sharp eyes and steady hands affix the labels.


"Scheming Beagle" has its own cult following.


A few bottles are removed from the production line. Roughy keeps watch over them as they chill.

Through the day, we enjoyed barrel samples of the Malbec and Cabernet Franc, some Riesling, and Roger Campbell's amazing Mourvedre-in-Progress. A taste each of the 2006 Port and the heady Zort (Zinfandel Port) pretty much put me over the top, so I sat in the kitchen alone with the potato salad until I felt myself again. Overstuffed and inebriated, the official photographer of the event managed to miss documenting much that was worth remembering: the fat, glistening shrimp hot off the grill; the gorgeous salad of watermelon radish and sunchokes; plates upon plates of deviled eggs; and the pulled pork in all its tender glory.


Blind Muscat leads us in a toast to sunshine and wine.


A well-laid buffet never requires guests to put down their drinks.

Guests were as well-mixed as the grape varietals. Color theorists traded cookie techniques with psychologists, Pilates instructors held forth on root vegetables, and investment experts shared pie with graying revolutionaries. Yes, we were in Berkeley.

Driving back across the bridge, I remembered why I settled here in the Bay Area. There are other places for enjoying food, from the hawker stalls of Singapore to the routiers of Provence. New York has its fine service, and New Orleans its exuberance. What ties me to Northern California, though, are how much people here like to cook, always experimenting with ingredients and techniques in their own kitchens, and how generous people are in welcoming new friends to their homes and tables.

Finding good food is easy. Finding food shared with an open heart is true treasure.

Labels: thy tran, wine

You don't hear as much about Lake County as you do about neighboring Napa and Sonoma, but it's an up and coming region that produces some wonderful wines. Though wines have been made here since before prohibition, its modern development as a wine region is relatively recent due in part to affordable property values. It's the home to two of the newest American Viticultural Areas (AVA's) designations, High Valley and Red Hills Lake County as well as two of the oldest, Guenoc and Clear Lake.

Red volcanic soils, mountain slopes, extreme temperature swings and winds off the lake result in longer ripening periods, a wide variety of grapes and an amazing range of wines. Varietals include Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Petite Sirah, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Barbera, Sangiovese, Syrah, and Cabernet Franc.

One of the pioneers in this area is Jed Steele, the winemaker who was responsible for the first nine vintages at Kendall Jackson. In 1991 he founded Steele and Shooting Star Wines. His whimsically named wines are reasonably priced and range from delicate to bold.

One of my favorite neighborhood restaurants, Luella, is holding it's first winemaker dinner the Steele Wine Dinner on April 3rd with winemaker Jed Steele. This is a great way to try some Lake County wines and hear from the winemaker without heading North. As for the food, you'll taste a number of dishes that Luella does best, crisp pizzettas, deliciously unctuous slow braised meats and sauces and tender homemade pastas.

Steele Wine Dinner
April 3, 2007
6:30 pm

Greet with
Shooting Star Sauvignon Blanc, Lake County, CA, 2005
Pizzetta with fromage blanc and lemon
Pizzetta with wild mushrooms and gremolata

First Course
Shooting Star Aligote, Washington State, 2005
Oysters on the half shell & fried with tarragon nage

Second Course
Steele Pinot Blanc, Santa Barbara, CA, 2005
Rapini ravioli with hazelnuts

Third Course
Writers Block Grenache, Lake County, CA, 2005
Rabbit sugo with papperdelle

Fourth Course
Stymie Merlot, Lake County, CA 2003
Lamb osso buco with chickpea wafers

Fifth Course
Steele Pacini Vineyard Zinfandel, Mendocino, CA 2004
Seared beef filet en croute with bone marrow butter and horseradish

Dessert
Shooting Star Black Bubbles Syrah, Lake County, CA 2003
Chocolate and strawberry shortcake

$75 all inclusive

Contact the restaurant for reservations:

Luella
1896 Hyde St
San Francisco CA
(415) 674-4343

Labels: amy sherman, restaurants, wine

"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread-- and Thou" -- Omar Khayyam.

I am not going to dissect that line from the Rubiayat today. I just placed it in this blog to somehow justify the fact that I chose to photograph a $3.99 1.5 liter bottle of Carlo Rossi Burgundy and put it into my blog.

Today, I am going to a wine tasting. It's for work, so I'll have to do a lot of spitting, sadly. My friends and colleagues, Saeed and Lyle, have kindly taken the time to share their wine knowledge (and our restaurant's wine cellar) with the rest of their co-workers. This week's session is loosely structured. Today, they are merely taking call-in requests-- we're drinking whatever the hell we want to drink. I think I'm a rather lucky fellow to have this opportunity.

Of course, this is work. I pretty much live in a restaurant. I talk about wine with strangers. And food, of course. It's what I do.

When I am dining out with friends or family or anyone lacking in wine-related gumption (and I am not talking about gumption derived from wine intake), the wine list is automatically handed to me. In my earlier, I-have-to-impress-everyone-by-my-wine-knowledge days, this was a dangerous act of trust. Hopefully, my ordering habits have mellowed like, well, something that mellows. Friends, please correct me if I am wrong. I am still feeling my way.

The road of wine education has been a long one, with lots of sharp learning curves. And wet, too. Wine tends to make everything slippery, you know.

And the scenery is not always pretty. There are photos to prove it.

I myself was introduced to wine at an early age. Sadly, my early experiences weren't shaped by early autumn harvests at my grandfather's vineyards in Piemonte. He was an auto mechanic from Philadelphia. He liked beer. Lucky lager-- the brand with the little concentration puzzles on the insides of the caps. My first taste of wine came with a threat from his wife. "You're not getting down from this table until you finish your wine." I was five. My grandmother didn't like to waste anything. I cut my Ernest (R.I.P.) & Julio Gallo with as much ginger ale as I could pour into my wine goblet-- the one with the etched glass grape vines-- and did as I was told.

My introduction to champagne was only slightly more romantic. At nine, I ran about the garden tables filling the hollows of plastic Korbel "corks" with "champagne" and sipping from them daintily-- pinky raised-- at my cousin Stephanie's wedding. I hope no one saw the pinky action. I have no idea who I was imitating. It just seemed the proper hand gesture for champagne drinking.

No wonder I preferred hard alcohol in my youth.

I mention these little snippets of my upbringing because I have the feeling I am not alone. I was not a wine savvy child. I didn't really know too much about it until I thirty-ish. Though wine drinking is becoming a fast-growing sport here in the United States, I believe that most Americans are intimidated by the stuff. Please take that "Oh, but we live so close to Napa" expression off your face. Admit it, most Americans still drink beer with dinner. Or coffee. Or ([big] gulp) Diet Coke.

Wine is (I know you still have that smirk on your face and that can stop right now, foodie) simply not part of our collective heritage. We are not comfortable with it as a nation as a whole. Thank you, Pilgrims. Thank you, Volstead Act.

It saddens me to watch people squirm when faced with ordering wine, because it is my job as a waiter to make people comfortable. Choosing a wine should not be a daunting task, but it appears to so be for many. Which wine do I choose? What if I pick the wrong one? What if I don't like it? When I ask people what they feel like drinking wine-wise, the answer is either Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc if they want a white and Cab or Pinot for red. No one ever seems to say the full name of either grape. Pinot? Noir, Meuniere, Gris, Blanc? One of these days I will blend all of these into one glass and present it to someone. One of these days. I often plead with my guests to break out of their neo-oenophobia and just try something different. Please. I suppose we may just have to wait for another sleeper-hit film to push people into trying another varietal.

I've been through this particular agony myself. The I don't-know-anything-about-wine-so-I-am not-even-going-to-try syndrome. Or even oh-God-the-waiter-and-all-my-friends-will-judge me-if-I-order-the-wrong-thing. My point, if I indeed do have a point today, is that drinking wine should be a pleasant experience. If anyone laughs at you, wine is the perfect thing to "accidentally" knock from the table and onto his or her lap. No one should make fun of you (to your face) when you order wine. Oh, that's my other point. Snobbish wine people are annoying, which makes me think of a certain Polk St. wine bar that needs a good investigation. Thank you for reminding me.

Over the next few months, I intend to drone on about wine varietals I think you should be drinking and why you should be drinking them. I'll walk you through the geeky horrors of blind tasting and, not surprisingly, I'll pair up some victuals I'd like to eat with some wines I'd like to drink. Isn't that exciting? Say yes, even if you don't mean it. I'm fragile.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have some serious imbibing to do. Over the next week, I expect you to get out there and drink something you've never drunk before, even if it's Bull's Blood of Eger. I expect a full report.

Labels: michael procopio, wine