1999 Mastroberardino Taurasi Radici

Welcome readers of the Memphis Flyer! For those of you outside of the mid-south, my Q&A with Hungry Memphis has been posted on the Flyer website.

Lately there's been a lot of collaboration and shared bottles/posts between Fredric and me. It's not a planned media strategy, just a confluence of occasions when we were able to sit down and enjoy some wines together. Since Fredric's wife is not a fan of veal, and The Roommate forbids it in our house, we took an opportunity to hang out over at Paul's and, beyond scorn, tuck in to some thick, well-marbled veal chops. Sort of a secret dining club, as it were. I need to get my hands on a suckling pig for the next such meeting.

These were chops of beauty, much like ideal ribeyes but far more tender and mild. Paul made an excellent selection, and I slow roasted them for an hour before searing them off in a skillet. (Alas, a pan sauce was not in the cards, as the olive oil ignited and sent a thin gray cloud throughout the house. We all screw up sometimes.) I served the lovely chops with white hominy grits cooked in chicken broth and flavored with Vlaskaas, a Dutch cheese traditionally made for field workers during the flax harvest. I topped the grits with sautéed garlic and wilted watercress; a far cry from instant grits with butter.

For the wine, I uncorked and decanted a bottle of the 1999 Mastroberardino Radici. 13.5% abv, 100% Aglianico from the Taurasi region just north of Naples. This was a gift from a US Naval officer stationed in Naples for several years, and the wine aged well in a variety of storage environments over the past decade. How's that for disclosure? This guy risked his life defending American security interests on a nuclear sub, and was kind enough to give me a bottle. Sorry if that conflict of interest makes you cry in your Cheerios, Federal Trade Commission. We all know that the greatest threat to freedom comes in the form of undocumented wine reviews.

The Aglianico grape has been grown in southern Italy for over 2,500 years, when Greek settlers planted it. Of course, the Greeks got it from the Phoenicians a few centuries earlier. Finally it arrives in my glass... This is definitely an Old World wine, full of earth and aromas not common to our California-Australia trained palates. Aromas of licorice, plum, a touch of ash, and and underlying soil scent. Flavors are tart, with deeper black cherry flavors but more earth and ash on the finish. I had the opportunity to serve this to half a dozen people, and the reactions were all over the place; some like that rustic European style and some don't. But those that liked it really liked it. And it was an excellent match for the veal: not overpowering, but not too mild either. It could really shine with wild game, organ meats, or other curious flavors... Since I've got another Aglianico waiting in the rack, I'll have to see what interesting dish I can find to pair with it.

Benito vs. Poland: Polmos Bialystok Żubrówka

Yet another Eastern European treasure thanks to Dave R.! I first tried this a couple of years ago at his mom's house and he recently gave me the remainder of the bottle, with a few ounces left. Brought in from Germany, this is the authentic Polish liquor. More on that in a bit.

Żubrówka is a Polish rye vodka flavored with buffalo grass. (As you can see in the photo, this company includes a stalk of the grass inside the bottle for decorative purposes.) It has a wonderful aroma to it--not necessarily fresh green grass, but more the scent of a grassy field in autumn when most of it is brown. There's a powerful lavender aroma, tinged with vanilla and almond. Despite being so fragrant, it is mild and smooth and goes down easily. I can't possibly imagine how you might mix this for a cocktail, but it is very lovely on its own. Really just half a shot is perfect--you can sit back and sniff it for a while before slowly sipping the barely sweet vodka.

If you haven't seen a bottle like this recently, well, there's a reason for that. The authentic product shown here has been illegal in the US since 1978 due to trace amounts of coumarin (which occurs naturally in the grass), but like absinthe, a separate version that conforms to FDA regulations has been introduced to the US market. There are fierce arguments in the Polish-American community over these new products; I don't know enough about the issue to speak definitively on it.

Also... The bison is a symbol of the American prairie, right? What's it doing on a strange Polish vodka? There's also a European species of bison, the rare wisent. It was nearly eradicated between WWI and WWII, with less than 50 animals left in captivity and none in the wild. Since then there have been efforts to rebuild the population. For a similar tale, take note of the aurochs, the ancestor of our modern cattle and valuable domesticated food source for the past 8,000 years. The last one died out in 1627.

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Quick Note About the New Rules

Thanks to the new FTC regulations concerning bloggers, I will begin posting disclaimers when I've received a bottle of wine, a book, or other product for review. A lot of the wines featured here arrived as free samples--I've never promised a positive review or even that I'd write about it. Nor have I ever received compensation or other gifts in exchange for positive reviews. All of the winemakers and public relations companies that I've dealt with have been professional and above board. While I haven't made big public statements about this, I do have a strong sense of ethics that has not been called into question in the nearly five years I've been doing this.

I haven't previously mentioned disclosure in posts because I think it looks clunky (imagine every movie review including a statement about who paid for the tickets, or the precise contents of the gift bag given at a premiere). It states right there below my photo that I accept samples for review. The decision handed down today only concerns new media--blogging, tweeting, etc. Old media writers are not impacted. There's a lot of confusion about this new policy, and the FTC has not made it clear what the precise requirements are for disclosure.

So here goes: at the moment I am writing this from my friend Paul's house. I'm currently enjoying a Coke Zero from his fridge. One of the freebies offered to me during my stay over here is access to the food and beverages in the kitchen. The Coke Zero was offered without expectation and will not impact my opinion of the quality of Paul's house should I choose to write about it in the future. The soft drink is crisp and somewhat bitter, with a flavor that is closer to Coke Classic than Diet Coke. Marketed at guys who don't want the calories but who might view Diet Coke as being a "female beverage", Coke Zero was introduced in 2004 and is sweetened with acesulfame potassium and aspartame.

Benito vs. the Cold and Rain: Bœuf Bourguignon

Following a wine tasting with Fredric, I snagged a couple of leftover bottles of Mazzocco Zinfandel. We tasted through eleven bottles, and I've written previously about the wines during my visit to the winery. I'm not going to go into detail on the wines here, but I will note that fresh out of the bottle many of them are hot and hard to appreciate--15-16% alcohol on all of them, with a few creeping up a bit above 16%. However, with a day of rest after opening, or a few hours of decanting, they're really quite pleasant.

If you find yourself in possession of a pint of leftover red wine, then it's a good excuse to make the classic French dish Bœuf Bourguignon. I roughly followed the recipe from the New York Times, and in the attached article it was noted that the Julia Child recipe, while popular with the success of the recent movie, is too much for the residential kitchen. This is originally a peasant dish that is simply made in a single cooking pot.

I'm not bashing dear Mrs. Child here, nor am I slighting those loyal fans that have gone home and faithfully recreated her recipe. I'm sure it's delicious. But I've made demi-glace from scratch. It took 12 hours. I've made traditional Sauce Robert that took two days. I've helped cook a whole hog that required 24 hours of slow roasting. Sometimes I want the challenge and wish to dirty up every pot and pan in the kitchen. Other times I just want to make dinner.

Served over a bed of broad flat noodles and enhanced with a double quantity of mushrooms, the one-pot dish provided a satisfying dinner for the three of us at the table. Two went back for seconds, always a good sign. With cold weather right around the corner, this is a perfect fall/winter recipe that is even better as leftovers. As with many savory stews, the flavors mingle and improve with a day or two of rest in the refrigerator.

Baked Ziti

Note: the Memphis area recently experienced two straight weeks of rain and cloudy skies. I had begun constructing a large boat out of gopher wood in the backyard, but fortunately the sun finally emerged. Hence the recent focus on slow-cooked comfort foods.

Baked ziti is mostly associated with Americanized Italian food, but there are similar recipes made in the old country. This dish had a starring role on The Sopranos, showing up after every funeral and appearing in every refrigerator. Who can forget such lines as "Where's the &#*@&#! ziti?" and "Who ate all the &#*@&#! ziti?"

Every family has their own "perfect" version of this dish, but as I'm unencumbered by actual Italian heritage and will not be disowned for deviating from Nonna's recipe, I decided to slap something together the other night.

I made a marinara sauce from scratch using whole peeled Muir Glen tomatoes. Great quality canned tomatoes, and the whole ones are the best for making any sort of sauce. (As tomatoes get damaged or bruised, they are processed as crushed or diced, and the lowest quality tomatoes end up in purées and pre-made sauces.) I blended the tomatoes, added a little garlic, some spices, and let it simmer for an hour to concentrate the flavors.

For pasta I used rigatoni, as the ridges help grab the sauce. I poured the cooked, drained pasta in with the sauce and then in the oiled casserole dish. Stir in some big dollops of ricotta (not enough to completely blend in), add some slices of cooked salsiccia, a layer of mozzarella and grated parmesan, and throw it all in a hot oven for half an hour.

It tasted great, but one of the true joys of baked ziti is that, like many casseroles, it improves with a day or two in the fridge. If you have some extra marinara lying around, you can add a bit to the pasta as you heat it up, but it's fine on its own.

The condensed recipe, more or less:

Baked Ziti
1 lb. tube-shaped pasta (rigatoni, penne, etc.)
30-40 oz. pasta sauce, canned or homemade
1 small tub ricotta cheese
1 cup shredded mozzarella
1/2 cup shredded parmesan

Boil the pasta, heat up the sauce. Drain the pasta, add to the sauce and gently mix. Throw it all in a greased 9x13 dish and lightly mix in a few big dollops of ricotta. (If you want, you can add in some cooked sausage here, or leftover shredded chicken, or vegetables/mushrooms/whatever.) Sprinkle the mozzarella, sprinkle the parmesan, bake at 400°F for half an hour... Done!

A Late Night Snapshot

Much like Gallia, this post est divisa in partes tres.

The Cigar
I recently picked up a solitary Hoyo de Montoya Dark Sumatra Media Noche, 5.7" x 54, from Honduras. Ecuadorian wrapper, Connecticut binder, and a blend of Dominican and Honduran filler. While being nearly black in color, this is a mild and smooth cigar with wonderful spice aromas and a rich, savory flavor. The construction is impeccable and I don't think I've ever had a cigar that burned this evenly. Plus, I'm a sucker for cedar-wrapped cigars. It looks classy and I like the flavor/aroma that comes from such contact.

The Beverage
Ever since Sam turned me on to Madeira, I try to keep a bottle in the house. In the current rotation is the Sandeman Fine Rich Madeira. Retailing for around $15, this is an excellent introductory Madeira that has the complex spices, raisin qualities, and slight sweetness indicative of the style. It is a bit more tart and harsh than the more well-aged varieties, but it hits the spot when an after-dinner splash of fortified wine is required.

The Book
One little treasure of my eclectic home library... The Schwa World Operations Manual. It's been out of print for years and pristine copies can fetch upwards of $150*. What is it? The Schwa Corporation was a graphic design project by Bill Barker. This book, which came out in 1997, details an alien takeover of the earth and how the human population will be controlled through dummy companies, advertising, and propaganda. The entire book is designed in stark black and white--no gradients or shades of gray. On top of that the only font used is Gill Sans, though often manipulated in interesting ways.

The book was an underground hit at the time, and a source of confusion for many others as there's no plot or apparent logical organization. It was also repeatedly vandalized at bookstores; if you're buying a copy make sure that it has the membership card, postcards, and stickers in the back. I've been carrying around my Schwa Planet Operator ID for over a decade now.

Barker fell off the radar for a while, but was recently the subject of a search at BoingBoing during which he was successfully located and appears to be working on a new project.

*I bought my untouched first edition for $1 at a Friends of the Library sale in 1998.

2005 Barón Balch'é Reserva Especial

The Roommate doesn't drink, but she was kind enough to snag me a bottle of Mexican wine during a summer trip to Cancún. I told her, "I don't really care what it is, I just want to be able to say I've tasted a Mexican wine." She found a shop with a helpful proprietor. To use a baseball metaphor, I was expecting a foul ball or perhaps a single. Instead, The Roommate knocked it out of the park.

The wine she got was the 2005 Barón Balch'é Reserva Especial from the Valle de Guadalupe in Baja California, Mexico (just south of the US border). This is a beautifully restrained 12% abv--it drinks like silk. I've had similar low alcohol wines from places like Israel and Turkey, which runs counter to the conventional wisdom that the closer you get to the equator, the higher the alcohol must be.

It's a proprietary blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Syrah, much like a lot of the creative blends coming from California in the US. It's got a blackberry nose with a touch of leather. Good berries: cherry and blackberry, with a lingering cassis flavor on the finish. For a hotter climate this is surprisingly smooth and mild, far more delicate than you would imagine. I served it with a Tex-Mex dinner of turkey tacos and baked beans (trio of black, kidney, and pinto--good flavor combination). However, this could be outstanding with any grilled or roasted meats.

Food & Wine has an informative article on the wines of Baja California. And as that writer points out, Mexican wines are difficult to find outside of the country, but I would strongly suggest trying some of the more European-styled wines like the Barón Balch'é. You can add another wine country to your merit badge sash, and get to enjoy a delicious bottle in the process.

The name is unusual, and on first glance it looks more Hebrew than anything else. But it's actually a combination of Spanish and Mayan, meaning roughly "noble ceremonial beverage".

Now for the fun part... I had this with dinner the night before I was going to meet up with Fredric Koeppel for a wine tasting, and couldn't resist the opportunity to give him a blind pour. You can read his full writeup on his blog. Part of it was just the joy of sharing an obscure wine with a friend, but I also needed to, in some small way, get revenge for his classic Blind Petite Sirah Tasting that stumped a room full of wine lovers, retailers, and certified experts.

P.S. Lots of people ask me, "Should you sniff the cork when you open a bottle of wine?" I've never learned anything useful from smelling a cork, but looking at it closely can be helpful. The cork on this one was constructed well, no leakage, mold, or other problems, but it was a 2004 cork in a 2005 wine. Is this a big deal? Not for this wine. There's not a big collector market in Mexican wine and it's a pretty recent vintage. Most likely they just had extra 2004 corks lying around and wanted to use them up. If you're shelling out a lot of money for a special bottle, it's a different story. If the cork is from a different region, different winery, or substantially different year, then you might have a counterfeit bottle on your hands, the restaurant might be committing fraud, or other foul play is afoot. Check out the New York Times Freakonomics blog for a story on the trade in empty wine bottles from highly collectible vintages.

Noilly Prat, Before and After

Back in January I read a terrifying article in the Wall Street Journal: the formulation of my beloved Noilly Prat dry white vermouth was changing. I socked away a few bottles and ignored the new stuff for a while, putting off the inevitable switch as long as possible. As has been discussed many times here and elsewhere, martini drinkers are stubborn creatures and a change to the most delicious, widely-available white vermouth struck fear in many hearts.

Eventually it was time for a new bottle, and I figured that I should give the new and old formulas a fair taste test. It couldn't really be blind--one is obviously sweeter and darker than the other. But I sought to evaluate them fairly.

Things may get a bit confusing here, as the "new" vermouth (pictured on the left) is actually the original European version that has been made on the other side of the Atlantic for 200 years. The "old", brighter, drier version (on the right) was a separate product developed for the American market around the 1940s and sold until this year. I'll just use the terms European and American to avoid confusion.

I tried both straight (if your vermouth tastes bad on its own, you're using cheap, nasty, or stale vermouth) as well as in a 4:1 ungarnished martini made with New Amsterdam gin.

American Version
Tasted on its own, it is light and tangy, like a Bordeaux Blanc made mostly from Sauvignon Blanc (although it's actually made from southern French grapes, mostly Picpoul de Pinet and Clairette). Crisp and herbal. In a martini... well, this is the house martini here at Casa de Benito and I've had it too often to be objective. But it provides a dry, bracing flavor to the cocktail.

European Version
Just like the new 2 liter Coke bottles, curves were apparently necessary. The WSJ is correct in that the flavor is closer to Lillet Blanc, though nowhere near as sweet. It is easier drinking as a strait apéritif where it has lower acidity. Made into a martini, it smooths out the gin considerably for what I felt was a great drink. If you want the additional acidity, a twist of lemon or a dash of lemon bitters will take care of that quickly.

Neither version is really superior to the other, but they are different. I will still be on the lookout for another, purely dry white vermouth, but for the meantime I'm happy to have this in the bar. I think the WSJ assessment (and my own initial reaction to the news) was unfair, and I would highly recommend trying out this European version if you get the chance.

Drinking Local: Bluff City Brewing

Recently I got a chance to meet up with fellow Memphis blogger and home brewer Brett Donnals of Bluff City Brewing. Not only does he make his own beer, but he's growing his own hops! He was kind enough to pass along some samples of his brews, and I was really excited to give them a shot.

A note on home brewing: You can make wine in your kitchen, but it's probably going to be worse than 99% of the wine available in the store. On the flipside, it's possible to make beer in your kitchen that is better than 99% of the beer available in the store. Because of the shorter fermentation period and the fact that you're not constrained by the seasons, it's quicker to learn how to make decent beer and the production is not dependent on sunlight, weather, geology, etc. Unlike Coors or Budweiser, you can change your recipe every week to suit your tastes without alienating millions of customers.

Plus beer is pretty forgiving of additional flavorings and ingredients. Want to make a pumpkin, blueberry, strawberry, or cardamom-star anise beer? Want to use a recipe from the Revolutionary War, Medieval Germany, or Ancient Egypt? Go for it! This creativity, innovation, and rediscovery is happening in garages and basements all across the United States. Some of your neighbors are likely into the hobby.

The numbers given for each of the beers reviewed here are IBUs, or International Bitterness Units. The higher the number, the more bitter the beer, though other flavorings and methods can impact the final taste and balance.

From left to right as pictured:

American Pale Ale, 53.3 IBUs.
Crisp and light, with medium bitterness and an overall refreshing quality. This one tasted best cold, straight out of the fridge, and had a short but tasty finish. Try this with a natural-case bratwurst that has a good "snap" to it and you'll learn why beer and sausage were meant to go together.

American Brown Ale, 62.8 IBUs.
Similar in style to Newcastle, but more bitter and with a lighter body. A great all-around beer for many different kinds of food. It stood up well to both white and supreme pizzas from Memphis Pizza Cafe. I can imagine this beer being great for Thanksgiving, preferably served from half-gallon growlers.

American Stout, 75.6 IBUs.
This pours an almost black color with a dark brown head, and has elements of coffee and chocolate. This one I felt was best as an after-dinner beer, particularly after it had come up to near room temperature. Cold it was difficult to get all the flavors; warmer it opened up and made for a smoother drink. Despite the highest IBU rating, it was well-balanced and delicious.

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Homebrewers are fun people to know, and a lot of times there's a few extra bottles or experimental batches rattling around in the back of a fridge somewhere. Check out Brett's blog, where he posts photos of the beermaking process as well as providing information on other microbreweries and local beer events.

Chicken Tikka Masala & Southampton Altbier

A British dish, influenced by India, paired with an American beer, influenced by Germany. It's like a complicated wedding right on the table.

Like anyone else that's been to an Indian restaurant in the United States or Great Britain, I've enjoyed the big plate of chicken tikka masala from time to time. It's pretty well known by now that this is not an authentic Indian recipe; although its precise origins are unclear, it was developed in the UK as an attempt to adapt Indian food for the British palate.

I looked at several dozen recipes online, and none of them matched up. I'm not talking about a difference of a certain spice or cut of chicken. The only consistent part of any chicken tikka masala recipe is... chicken. For instance, the red color can come from food coloring or tomatoes. (And it doesn't have to be red; varieties from yellow to deep crimson exist.) For the tomatoes, the quantity required for a recipe serving four varied from a tablespoon of tomato paste to a 28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes. Adding a creamy texture? Optional, but cream, milk, yogurt, or coconut milk are used, all of which behave differently when cooked.

I decided to ditch the recipes and just freestyle it. Half a stick of butter, an onion, a bell pepper, all sautéed. Add in some garam masala and a healthy dose of cayenne pepper. Throw in a big can of crushed tomatoes. Blend, allow to simmer. Add yogurt. Mix in leftover chicken and let simmer for a while.

The result wasn't perfect, but it was definitely edible. Not quite like what I've had in restaurants, but it worked OK. I made some basmati rice and picked up some naan from the grocery store. (Yes, it is easy enough to make naan, but I was using up leftovers and trying to keep things simple.)

When it comes to Indian food, I prefer beer to wine, though you could probably crack open a Gewürtztraminer. I picked up a sixer of a beer I'd never seen before, the Southampton Publick House Altbier brewed on Long Island in New York. It pours a dark amber color with a head that disappears quickly. It's lightly hopped and has a bittersweet quality to it--well balanced. Slight roasted quality, but what I love most about this beer is that it's got a great malt flavor, something I haven't had in a beer in a while. In fact, this Düsseldorf-style beer is similar to the Germantown Alt I cut my teeth on at the dearly departed Bosco's in Saddle Creek. Don't get me wrong, I love the beers at the Midtown location, but I miss having a brewpub on this side of town.

Birthday Dinner Party Part II

A Caesar salad is not Italian per se... It's the creation of an Italian chef working in Tijuana during Prohibition. I haven't had a good one in a long time, and even the last time I tried it the whole thing fell apart from residual water on the romaine (I used pre-washed organic this time). You've got to have raw egg yolks and lots of anchovies and quality wine vinegar, plus all the other ingredients. Made by hand right before serving, it's a whole different experience than the fast food versions we see today. Inspired by the Surreal Gourmet (I saw him make this salad during a book signing in the 90s) and with the confidence that my salad-fu is strong these days, I made an incredible dish. I think a few might have even licked their plates.

Why not an Italian wine with the Mexican salad? I opened the 2006 Campogrande Orvieto Classico from Umbria in central Italy. 40% Procanico, 40% Grechetto, 15% Verdello, 5% Drupeggio and Malvasia. For a $10 table wine, this was delicious. Aroma of Meyer lemon with floral touches, full bodied with bright acidity and just a hint of a honey flavor.

Finally, the main course! I've spoken many times about trying recipes from Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook. I've had pretty good results, but one recipe kept staring at me: gigot de sept heures, or a leg of lamb cooked for seven hours--seven hours of not peeking or using the oven for anything else. Lots of garlic (24 cloves!), some onions and carrots, and a bouquet garni, sealed up in a Dutch oven for the long haul. Also known as spoon lamb due to the tenderness (and a favorite of James Beard), this looks a lot like beef stew, and is similar in appearance and texture. But the garlic and lamb combine to create their own unique flavor, and folks liked it. On the side I've got braised radicchio and endive, sweetened up a bit at the last minute with a honey-balsamic vinaigrette. Not the prettiest plating, but very succulent.

In the opposite of the pasta course, Italian wines with French food... I had the opportunity to serve two wines from the same vintage, producer, and grape composition. First is the 2005 Masi Valpolicella Bonacosta. 70% Corvina, 25% Rondinella, 5% Molinara, from the Valpolicella region near Verona in northern Italy. Bright cherry, lovely garnet color, rich fig flavors with a touch of tartness and brambles. Fascinating wine.

After everyone had a pour of the straight Valpolicella, I served the 2005 Masi Campofiorin. This is basically the exact same wine but passed over the leftover skins from Amarone production to boost the flavor, a process called ripasso. There's a slight bitter edge that went great with the chicory vegetables, and the wine is similar to the first but with a fuller body, a deeper mouthfeel, and a new flavor of stewed plums. Definitely more complex, but I can't say one was better than the other. Mostly it was fun to try them back and forth over a half hour.

It should be clear by now that I'm not a dessert person, and generally don't feel like making another course after several hours of cooking, eating, and entertaining. So I typically pass off the duty to a guest, and leave it totally up to them. Laura M. surprised me with homemade tiramisù, by far my favorite. I think it's the mascarpone and coffee that make it less dessert-like for me, and she did an amazing job.

Paul added to the festivities with a bottle of the 20 Year Tawny Port from Taylor Fladgate, not pictured. My tasting notes descended into mere scribbles by this point, but you can't go wrong with a well-aged fortified wine from an established producer.

As always I thank Paul for the gracious use of his house for these gatherings, as well as for the snifters of Glengoyne 17 Year Single Malt with which we toasted before the guests arrived.

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Aside from the ego boost of a successful dinner party and the relief of being able to finally open a half dozen bottles I'd been waiting to try, the friends at the table were what made this evening special and fun. A couple of the guests stuck around for a few hours and the conversation lingered on until nearly two in the morning. I spent the next day exhausted and full, but immensely happy.

Birthday Dinner Party Part I

My birthday was on Sunday, and on this annual occasion I really don't like to go out. I'm not big on presents or anything like that. But I love throwing a dinner party, and I generally try to invite a group of new friends or people I haven't seen in forever. They don't know it's my birthday, so there's no sense of obligation or confusion ahead of time. Yes, I explain what's going on during the toast, but this is precisely how I want to spend the day.

Speaking of the toast, we kicked off the evening with the NV Toad Hollow Amplexus. Proprietary blend of Chardonnay, Mauzac, and Chenin Blanc. This is a Blanquette de Limoux from the south of France, in an AOC that was making sparkling wine before Champagne. Dominant flavors of green apple and lemon, with a light and refreshing character. Deeper body than Champagne.

Of course, Toad Hollow is fond of irreverence, and it should be noted that amplexus refers to a set of actions that take place during frog sex. This probably explains why I've had such a hard time finding this wine since I first heard of it years ago, but sharing that little nugget of information was a fun way to break the ice with the group, some of whom I hadn't seen in fifteen years. Never be afraid to invite lovely young women from your high school graduating class, it's a strategy that has always worked well for me.

It was a rainy night, evidence of fall's arrival here in Memphis. This worked out well, as my rustic French-Italian menu plans were more geared towards autumn than the blazing heat of summer. I wanted to start out with a soup, but got stumped for a few days. I didn't want to make a "cream of x" soup, nor did I want anything tomato based. I'd already done minestrone and French onion and lots of other standards... A clear broth peasant soup seemed like a good idea. I finally settled on broeta de verza de magro, a Christmas soup from Dalmatia. (Dalmatia is in modern-day Croatia, but it was part of the Republic of Venice for a long time.) It's very simple: fish broth, potatoes, cabbage, onion, garlic. Different, but interesting and surprisingly good. I served this with the Bulgarian Sauvignon Blanc mentioned in Monday's post.

Note: I used Kitchen Basics Seafood Stock, which is delicious. I'm content to use quality boxed stock for cooking, especially since I have limited space in my freezer. But I think this soup could be ten times better if you boiled up a few fish heads, tails, and spine scraps to make the broth from scratch. I would have happily done so, but I faced the problem of not wanting to scare off my diners with the first course. When you get a reputation for weird chickens, organ meats, and Swedish banana casseroles, sometimes you have to reassure folks.

For the pasta course, I was dying to use campanelle, the little bellflower-shaped pasta. Further fiddling around online yielded the perfect recipe, involving salsiccia and cannellini beans. Not a heavy gloopy sauce, but one that would nestle in the bells properly. For a change of pace, I tried out turkey salsiccia and was very happy with the results. A little shredded Piave vecchio on top... My friends loved this dish.

I was excited to finally open the 2008 Domaine de la Mordorée Tavel from the southern Rhône region of France. 60% Grenache, 10% Cinsault, 10% Mourvèdre, 10% Syrah, 5% Bourboulenc, 5% Clairette. I've been staring at this lovely rosé for a month, thirsty after reading Fredric's review of the same. Watermelon aromas, with a bright raspberry flavor, light acidity, a touch of earth, and a tiny lemon finish. This wine has layers of complexity that unfold as it creeps up to room temperature. This is a distinguished, serious wine worthy of attention and reflection. Dry rosés can be a show stopper with the right crowd, and this group really enjoyed trying this one. I would strongly recommend the Domaine de la Mordorée if you can find it in your area.

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To recap: a French sparkling wine with a naughty name, a Croatian soup paired with Bulgarian wine, and an Italian pasta dish paired with a French rosé. Where else but in America? But there's more to come... Check back Friday for the final three courses of the dinner party!

Grace Restaurant Sneak Peek

For the past couple of months I've had access to some behind the scenes info on the development of Grace Restaurant Memphis, the new project of Chef Ben Vaughn. I was a big fan of his work at River Oaks, and can't wait to see what interesting dishes show up on the Grace menu. He's planning on changing menu items regularly, and if the work at River Oaks was any indication the dishes will be driven by the quality of the ingredients and the seasons. It's a great philosophy of cooking and I think it will resonate well with a city that is caring more and more about what it eats.

Named after Vaughn's daughter, the restaurant is located on the northeast corner of the Cooper-Young intersection, in the site of the former Sweet Bistro.

I will have more details next week, but you can also follow Grace Memphis on Facebook. Until then, enjoy some of these photos taken during the final stages of construction.

Benito vs. Eastern Europe: България

Bulgaria might not be the first country you think of when it comes to wine. In fact, ask most Americans to locate Bulgaria on a blank map and they'll gesture generally at an area that starts at Germany and ends at the Pacific Ocean. This little nation sits at the crossroads of history, bordered by the Black Sea, Turkey, Greece, Serbia, Romania, and Macdedonia. It has witnessed every army, religion, and culture that has passed in any direction between Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. And it's one of the oldest wine regions in the world.

These wines come from the Thracian Valley in the south, part of the ancient province of Thrace which was home to such legendary figures as Orpheus and Spartacus. Over the centuries Thrace (and the rest of modern Bulgaria) was controlled by the Greeks, Byzantines, Persians, and a dozen other regimes. The Romans in particular valued this region for wine production and it remained a strong wine producer until the middle ages. Unfortunately, 500 years of Ottoman rule meant no wine until the 1870s, and then they had a few decades of wars before Communist takeover... Fortunately since the 1990s the wine industry has rebounded and we're able to try the products of Bulgarian vineyards.

While I've had some of the native grapes (Melnik and Mavrud), here we're going to look at three mainstream grapes aimed at the bargain sector of the American market. All three retail for $8 and are inscribed with Roman Empire motifs: the date, and the inclusion of Julius Caesar's quote "Veni, vidi, vici." The tagline on the back is amusing: "Since we haven't seen you in Bulgaria lately, we've brought you some of the finest local flavors." More information on these wines and others from Bulgaria can be found at BulgarianWine.com.

2008 Vini Sauvignon Blanc, 12.5% abv. Light grapefruit aroma, touch of lemon on the finish with a big, full body and a crowd-pleasing fruitiness. Very food friendly with fish or vegetable dishes.

2008 Vini Merlot, 13% abv. Classic cherry aromas with a hint of cedar and black tea. Plum and black cherry, soft start with a touch of tartness on the finish. Tannins sneak up on you with a mouth-drying feel on the finish. Like some other Mediterranean Merlots I've had it's a bit warmer than what you might expect from France, but consistent with California. With just fifteen minutes of breathing, it smooths out considerably and becomes a pleasant afternoon sipper.

2008 Vini Cabernet Sauvignon, 13% abv. Ripe plum aroma, with a touch of black pepper. Comparable in body and tannins with the Merlot, though with this one I'm craving more strongly flavored meats, like duck or lamb.

Hetzelsdorfer Bier, ein Fränkisches Vollbier

Much like many German wines, this beer label is a mass of words set in lovely yet severe Fraktur script. Have you ever tried to translate anything in German printed before 1940? Don't. The Germans set everything in this harsh calligraphy: newspapers, books, posters, etc. Many individual letters were ambiguous. The handwriting form was worse, something left over from the Middle Ages. Check out this example of old Handschrift, bearing in mind that the writer is using the exact same Roman alphabet I'm using on this website.

Here's the breakdown on the name:

Fränkisches translates in English to Franconian, referring to an area of northern Bavaria (in the south of Germany) known as Franconia or land of the Franks (ancestral French).

Vollbier means "full beer", a tax category that applies to practically all German beers.

Hetzelsdorfer required a bit of research. It's the name of the brewery, but it means "from the village of Hetzel". Hetzel is a diminutive of Hermann, and refers to either a woodcutter or a stubborn person. Take your pick.

Bier simply means beer, by far the simplest part of this whole damn post.

It pours a beautiful dark amber with a thin head. Nutty and tangy, with a slight orange marmalade aroma. Medium bitter, with a nice bite on the finish. Most importantly, this beer has an elegant, refined quality. Like the difference between a cheap sparkling wine and a really well-made Champagne.

The bottle is interesting, bearing the scars of glass that has been washed and refilled several times rather than ground up and recycled. You don't see this in the US very much, unless you pick up a bottle of Mexican Coke or another niche import. I suppose it's a brand maintenance thing; despite the cost savings and environmental benefits, nobody wants to have the only scratched glass on the shelf.

The brewery website doesn't appear to have been touched since 2003 and contains no information. Fortunately other sites exist.

Thanks to friend Dave R. for bringing this back from Germany; his long service in the United States Army has provided me with a steady supply of such treasures over the years.

Smoked Salt

When I was a child, I knew about table salt and rock salt, the latter being useful for making ice cream and clearing roads in the winter. Nowadays I tend to have four or five different salts in the house at any given time. This is the story of one of the more unusual variations on sodium chloride.

In 2007 I got a birthday present from my boss that included a curious little jar of "Oak Smoked Chardonnay Sea Salt". It's seasoned with the smoke from burning oak barrels that were used to age Chardonnay. Thus you get all the butter, caramel, and vanilla concentrated into this salt, giving it a beige color. I loved smelling it, loved cracking it open when guests came over, but how to use it? I really struggled to find a use for it.

Recently I was baking a sweet potato, hoping to add another element beyond the usual butter/brown sugar/kosher salt. And then it struck me... This could be the perfect application for the smoked salt, and glory be, it was. The salt does not have a heavy smoke flavor; it's fairly muted. But it adds a nice touch, and the other dessert-like flavors (vanilla, caramel) play well with the other ingredients.

I'm trying to think up other uses for it... Salmon sashimi is coming to mind, I'm also thinking it might be fun to sprinkle over a steamed mahi-mahi filet. Commenters, I leave it up to you: what other uses can you think of for this fun, aromatic salt?

Online Tasting: 2005 Château La Paws Côte du Bone Roan

Time for another online tasting--join local Memphis wine fans and me as we try the 2005 Château La Paws Côte du Bone Roan from Rosenblum Cellars in California. Thursday, September 10, 2008 at 7:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time at The Commercial Appeal's Whining & Dining blog. Can't find this wine in your area? Grab another animal-themed wine and drop in to say hello.

Here in town, I know that Whiskers Wine & Spirits in Cordova has it, and I hear that Buster's has a couple of cases for y'all closer to Midtown. Elsewhere, it shouldn't be too hard to find--it was a popular wine on release and I'm anxious to see how it's holding up in 2009. Proceeds from this wine go to Paws With A Cause, a charitable organization that trains assistance dogs for people with disabilities.

I shot the wine with Macbeth, who is The Roommate's dog. He's a 10-year old fox-red Labrador, an unusual color not often seen in this breed. Unlike Wolfie, my dear yet paranoid mutt, Mac is pretty sociable and can make friends with anyone, as long as that person is willing to put up with some slobber and his habit of thrusting his head into your armpit for some petting.

Here's a photo from 2003, when he was six years younger and the lighting brought out the red color a little better. The boy is a strong swimmer but isn't trained for duck hunting. His primary responsibility around Casa de Benito is to begin barking when the UPS or FedEx truck arrives with wine samples. I usually try to kennel him first, but a few missionaries and door-to-door salesmen have been surprised by 80 pounds of harmless but enthusiastic Labrador lovin'.

2007 Domaine du Gour de Chaulé

How do you begin to love French wines? Some say that if you're not starting out on grand cru Burgundy or premier cru Bordeaux, you're violating your taste buds and may as well be swirling Croatian prune brandy in your glass. Others suggest an approach from the east, starting with light and sweet Alsatian wines. Personally, I've always felt it's best to arrive on the southern shores, working your way through Provence, Languedoc, and Rhone. Why? Most of these wines are fun blends of easily-grown grapes, they're very food friendly, the prices are generally very low, and you've got a wide range of choices among red, white, and rosé--even dessert wines. And if you fall in love with the region, you can explore higher-end AOCs like Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Côte-Rôtie before moving up to the traditional big leagues.

Here's a great example from Côtes du Rhône, the 2007 Domaine du Gour de Chaulé. $15, 14.5% abv. A proprietary blend of Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre, and Cinsault.

It delivers bright, raspberry aromas, with touches of earth and anise. Big red berry flavors, with firm tannins and a long finish. I served it with salad, mushrooms, and thin slices of rare flatiron steak, but it would also work beautifully with roast pork or venison.

I've written a bit lately about wine label design, and this is certainly an example of old school, classic design. Removed from the bottle, there is no question that this is a wine label. It could never be confused for the label from a bottle of shampoo, brake fluid, or bug spray. It is elegant, historical, and symmetrical, using typefaces that bear centuries' worth of attention to every curve, line width, and angle.

Do I think every wine label should look like this? Certainly not. But I do love the fact that such a classy package and approachable wine goes for $15, because there are times when you want that look on the table, on the bar, or on the shelf. This wine, and many other representatives from Côtes du Rhône, are a great way to sneak into French wine and begin to understand the greatness of Gaul without breaking the bank.

No Animals Were Harmed in this Blog Post...

...although I did yell at my dog Wolfgang when he tried to steal tofu, so there may have been some emotional distress.

While it should be obvious that I am a committed omnivore with few, if any culinary fears, objections, or taboos, I do respect other personal dietary choices. I've cooked for vegetarians, diabetics, Jews, Hindus, Muslims, Catholics during Lent, picky eaters, pregnant women, and girlfriends with rapidly shifting food preferences. I'm cool with whatever, just let me know ahead of time.

Recently a vegan wine showed up for review--the first that I have knowingly tried. Vegan means no animal products or byproducts are involved as ingredients or part of the production. In short, think vegetarian but no eggs, dairy, honey, etc. For a wine, it means that the wine was clarified using bentonite or is simply unfiltered. Most wines and beers are clarified with either egg whites or isinglass*, a gelatin-like substance obtained from the swim bladders of fish.

Since I've fixed a kosher meal with a kosher wine, I thought a vegan meal was in order here. I've cooked vegetarian many times, I even was a vegetarian for part of the 90s. And daily I check on local blogger Justin Burks' site The Chubby Vegetarian, which features lots of mouthwatering non-meat cooking and gorgeous photography. This dinner doesn't come from one of his posts, but his writing has inspired me to think outside of the butcher section.

Vegan cooking takes it up a step, but I was ready for the challenge. A brown rice stir-fry with firm tofu cubes, cremini mushrooms, and assorted vegetables. I really do like tofu when it's prepared properly, and it's also a matter of using the right variety for the right situation. The final dish shown here was quite good, though I needed to add some (vegan!) soy sauce to supply the missing umami flavors.

The wine that started this whole project is the 2007 Thumbprint Cellars Chardonnay from the Russian River Valley of California. $29, 14.3% abv. Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause please for a lovely unoaked Chardonnay that bucks the usual California stereotypes. Great aromas of apricot and pear, with peach and apricot flavors. Big fruit profile, dry and refreshing. There is also a brief, but fun citrus finish that vanishes almost before you can identify it. A wine like this can be pretty versatile when it comes to pairing with food, but I liked the way that it perked up the taste buds against the earthy, savory stir fry.

As I've said with organic and biodynamic wines, these methods alone don't ensure quality. But it seems like if you're paying such close attention to one part of your wine production, there's a good chance that you're investing a lot of time and care into other areas as well. With this wine the vegan status isn't treated as a big deal; the word doesn't appear anywhere on the bottle, and I don't know if there's even an official certification out there. Will this trend grow in the wine world? Only time will tell. Regardless of any dietary or ethical concerns, this is a wonderful white wine that makes you stand up and pay more attention to Chardonnay.


*You almost never hear the word isinglass these days, but it survives in a line from the musical Oklahoma! describing the Surrey with the fringe on top:

"The dashboard's genuine leather,
With isinglass curtains y' can roll right down,
In case there's a change in the weather."

In high school, I did the lighting for 12 shows of Oklahoma! plus countless rehearsals. The lines and lyrics are indelibly etched upon my brain. I fear that sixty years from now the last memories I'll be able to retrieve are in the form of dialogue between Curly and Aunt Eller.

Site Redesign + Blog Art

I got tired of looking at the header on the blog, so I figured it was time for a fresh start. Once I started fiddling around with CSS in the Blogger template, things got a bit out of hand... hence the custom remodel job here, which might change in the next few days. More importantly, I'm no longer associated with the hundreds of other sites using the same brown and beige template (such as Dr. Debs' blog), and I can develop a more individual look now. Don't know why I didn't do this sooner.

The design of this latest header is taken from the logo for Beemans Chewing Gum (favorite of pilots and early astronauts), but it's a pretty common 50s-style motif. Oddly enough, I can't stand gum or being around people constantly chewing and snapping.

Some have pointed out that this resembles the sign of an old diner, and I like that connection. But it doesn't signal any sort of change on the blog; I'm not going to bleach my hair, wear sunglasses on the back of my head, and review Waffle Houses like a low-budget Guy Fieri.

Here's a retrospective of the past headers. (Note that if you go back to any old posts, it will only show the most recent header, layout, and links on the side.)

Unpublished concept art from late 2004. I couldn't work it into a good horizontal format, and it looks like the sign for an Olde Time Ice Cream Shoppe. No, I don't own a red and white striped shirt, a straw boater, or arm garters:


The original from the start in 2005, which stayed up until summer 2008. I still like this one, but it's a little too stodgy, like the logo for a brand of high-end wood varnish:


The replacement in June 2008, where I tried to render a texture similar to a closeup of a leaf's surface:


By October 2008, I felt a little more text was needed:


It was easy to decorate for Christmas:


I stuck with this design for a while, though I would change the colors with the seasons or whenever I felt like it:



The April Fool's Day header, which generated no e-mail or comments, but I'm still fond of it:


Inspired by the blazing heat of a Memphis summer, I played with breaking out of the design with a new look (1980s science textbook cover) and the use of a photo background:


...But I wasn't happy with it and retreated:


Since that was confusing some people, I went back and tried a yellow version of the old header, which I recently discovered looks horrid on certain monitors:


Which takes us all the way to today's new header. I started over from scratch and took things in a whole new direction. I might play around with a few different styles, different color schemes, etc. in the months to come. (You know, De Stijl would be fun...) I'm looking at the header as less of a recognizable brand for the blog and more of a necktie--no need to wear the same tie for years on end:



P.S. Just to show I have a softer side, a few months ago I did a header for Samantha Dugan. It went through a couple of revisions and tweaks, but she settled on this one:

Flygande Jakob & Murphy-Goode's "The Fumé"

I've invoked the late Hunter S. Thompson a few times on this site, and I'll do it again here. As Raoul Duke he described Dr. Gonzo as "One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."

That's kind of how I feel about Flygande Jakob, a bizarre bit of Swedish comfort food that involves mostly non-Swedish ingredients, and is the kind of dish so stupidly easy that it's the one dish incompetent young men will cook for their girlfriends, like similar American guys with spaghetti. (I've hung out with some Swedish dames in my day, and didn't take them for being that easy to impress. I suppose long hours of darkness during the winter lead to desperation...)

Here's a recipe for "Flying Jacob", named after the Swedish air freight employee who is credited with inventing the recipe in the 1970s. For those of you that don't speak Svenska*, this is an unholy mishmash of chicken, cream, bananas, and Heinz Chili Sauce, topped with bacon and peanuts.

If you can wrap your mind around the ingredient list and the visually unpleasant, splotchy, pink sauce created by the cream and Heinz, it's actually pretty tasty. It's definitely odd, and eating chicken with bananas sounds more like a piece of performance art. But the bacon and peanuts add salty, savory flavors, and something about a creamy casserole tends to shut down the more critical parts of your brain. Traditional sides are rice and salad; I did rice and corn, because I had a bag of frozen corn I wanted to cook and was nodding towards Scandinavian frugality.

My fellow diners, Paul and The Roommate, liked it well enough but the consensus was "Don't make this again."

And because I always celebrate the strange over the ordinary, I thought this was the perfect occasion to showcase a wine from Murphy-Goode. When they picked brother man Hardy Wallace as their Wine Country Lifestyle Correspondent, I celebrated by going out and purchasing my first-ever Murphy-Goode wine, the 2007 "The Fumé" Sauvignon Blanc, $13, 13.5% abv. Pure Sauvignon Blanc from the North Coast of California. Lovely aroma of lime peel, melon, and grapefruit, with flavors of grapefruit flesh and a lovely finish reminiscent of lemon meringue pie.

It made a great pairing for the dish, but I don't expect to see "Goes well with Flygande Jakob" on the back label of future releases. I will, however, suggest to keep this in mind as a wine that goes well with casseroles and lots of competing flavors, meaning that it could be a great Thanksgiving or Christmas wine.


*Here's an English recipe using metric measurements. But there's nothing complicated about this recipe and the various proportions differ from recipe to recipe. Cook some chicken breasts, chop them up, layer in a dish with banana slices, and pour in a 1:3 mix of chili sauce (or ketchup) and cream. Top with chopped nuts and crumbled bacon, and cook at 350°F until warmed through.

Two Oddly-Named Wines

Wrongo Dongo and the Bitch. We're a long way from Châteauneuf-du-Pape, folks.

I've got nothing against funny names, and have even celebrated them at times. Mostly I'm concerned with what's inside the bottle, but I'll give extra credit when a good wine has good design and marketing. I'm going to do a little face-off here with these two wines, opened on the same night. Both are made from Rhône grapes grown outside southern France, they're close in age and price (around $10 each), and both are meant to grab the attention of shoppers with a certain sense of humor.

The Competitors:
The 2007 Wrongo Dongo is from the Jumilla region of Spain, pure Monastrell (Mourvèdre). It's made by Bodegas Hijos de Juan Gil, but I didn't see any info about it on the website. 14% abv.

The 2008 Bitch Grenache is a Grateful Palate import from the Barossa Valley in South Australia. 15.5% abv.

Round 1: Aroma/Taste
Bitch was very hot due to the high alcohol, and what remained was a big strawberry jam profile. It also pours somewhat thin; it looks a little too light to be a full red. A one-ounce tasting pour can look almost like a rosé. After several hours of breathing, some of the heat blows off and you get this wine with a light beginning, big fruity middle, and a brash, heavily tannic and slightly bitter finish. Something of an odd experience.

Wrongo Dongo was much more in line with a traditional Spanish table wine. Lighter body overall with far better balance and restrained finish. Interesting, earthy aromas including tar, funky black peppercorns, a bit of the barnyard, and black cherry notes in the background. (This may sound repulsive to wine newcomers, but it was a nice surprise to find an Old World profile like this packaged as a novelty for the American market.) It should also be noted that this wine was good right after opening as well as hours later.

Winner: Wrongo Dongo

Round 2: Name
I don't use the word bitch often, and when I do, it's as a gender-neutral verb equivalent to the Yiddish kvetch. However, that name combined with the pink design has made this a popular gag gift for women to give amongst themselves and take to girls-night-out parties. How it didn't get a Sex and the City tie-in I'll never know. In fact, why don't they stock this alongside the wine coolers, Franzia boxes, and White Zinfandel? (Just kidding, ladies.) I was always curious to try it, but never felt like actually buying it. Would it send a signal that I'm mad at women, or is there a prison connotation? Would I have to buy Scotch, Jägermeister, and Everclear to compensate, like when a guy is sent to the store by a woman to purchase certain items and tries to hide them under a six pack of beer and a few cans of Wolf Brand Chili?

Wrongo Dongo is a weird one. Supposedly it's a Massachusetts euphemism for being dead wrong. Either that or someone is an Oingo Boingo fan but couldn't secure the licensing rights. The name is certainly unusual, but it doesn't have anything to do with Spain, wine, nor is it a common enough phrase to catch customers' attention. Compare this oddity to the more appropriate Jumilla export Mad Dogs and Englishmen.

Winner: Bitch, by default

Round 3: Design
Both are fairly modern designs, far beyond the old house and all-caps of traditional French wine labels. I admit the Wrongo Dongo label is creative, but I'm not fond of that style, and the eyes make it slightly creepy. Keeping mascots' eyes from looking scary is hard work, such as with the Pillsbury Doughboy or in early episodes of The Simpsons, when a character viewed ¾ from behind would appear to have hollow eye sockets. The minimalist sanserif font is nice, but like the name, I think it's too weird to accomplish much.

The Bitch is, however, beautifully designed. Simple yet elegant layout, fun yet subtle use of hearts, and a curious shade of salmon. Best thing: that's a great bit of custom script work on the name. It would have been much easier to just use one of the millions of generic script fonts out there, and almost nobody would have cared. But they went that extra mile, and I appreciate that. Plus the back text made me burst out in laughter. Instead of a goofy story, the word "bitch" is repeated dozens of times.

Winner: Bitch

* * *

So Bitch wins on style, but Wrongo Dongo wins on substance. If you could switch the labels on the bottles you'd have one fantastic wine and one real dog. As a former graphic designer, I pay perhaps too much attention to packaging. I try not to let it influence my purchasing decisions, but we're all human and successful advertising plays into those desires. It's why I enjoy blind tastings, or getting random bottles to try--it forces me out of my habits and makes me focus on the inner character of the wine. To quote a great philosopher, beauty means less over time, but "you can't fix stupid".