Friday, March 3, 2017
A Big Wine and a Rant
Last night, a dinner of succulent pork tenderloin with braised leeks and truffle-laced cauliflower soup. For some reason, I was called to open a barbera...generally, in my experience, a fine, light red wine that compliments most foods. I opened a 2000 Montiribaldi Barbera d'Alba "Du Gir", with some hesitation as I have no experience with "older" barberas. What I found (and should have known by the 14.5% alcohol) was a big BIG red that completely overwhelmed the pork but sidled right up to the truffles like a long lost friend. I actually didn't like it at first, the wine. It seemed so unbarbera like that I was put off. I described it as a "monster" and "new world" in style. Ever the pragmatist, Ms KT sampled and had quite the opposite experience. She was able to help me find the "mint" in the nose (soon became apparent: wintergreen) and get beyond the "bigness" to appreciate the structure and complexity. Although it still seemed "fruit bomb" to me, I was able to enjoy the bitter cherry, bitter almond nuances with the soup. Amazing that a seventeen year old barbera should still be so evolving. I will be more attentive to style, rather than varietal, in future dinner choices. Any of you have any experiences with Montaribaldi?
Thursday, March 31, 2011
The Bonafides of the Vanities
We lacked a name. Were we SWIRL lite? A mini-SWIRL? SWIRLette? How to describe our many variations. Seven strong of ten entire. Enough I would say, although those absences were felt.
The night in the classy abode of B&S: arty, warm, soothing, and comfortable. The classic joke: R&S have the apps and running late, but it never matters. We meld and shape to the evening, wherever we are, whoever is there and however it plays.
The apps mushroom and asparagus with crostini....I can scarcely remember, just that it was oh-so-delicious. And the scene stealer, the widow, THE WIDOW! There are more sophisticated bubbles, more precise and acidic or leesy, but the WIDOW always pleases. ALWAYS.
Suzie's to die for pork with polenta and kale. I could die eating the crusty edges of Suzie's roast pork with no regrets. The bevs: a truly delightful montepulciano d'abruzzo (date can't recall) with overtones of rich soil and blood and tart berries (!), a puzzling 2000 pinot from Archery Summit that, in a blind tasting, I would have bet was a WWW syrah, so sweet and candied and so unpinot like, a 2006 Barolo that tasted basic and lacking in sophistry, and second label from Cougar Creek...involution? inception? convolution? I can't recall its name but it was waaaay too easy to drink. Well, they all were ant that should come as no surprise sports fans.
K's signature salad cleansed the palate with immense pleasure. It was exactly what you wanted to eat to buoy up, for the evening was young yet. I can't be objective about that salad; it's one of my favorites, rich but not filling.
Finally KT's dualing desserts: a chocolate torte and a wenatchee apple torte. Both beguiling and befitting the end of such a delightful evening. What is it about food and friends and wine and friends that stirs the soul, that satisfies the longing to be part of a larger reality...the great unspecified ALL? Don't really know but I do know that it works and that it works because of all of you/us.
The night in the classy abode of B&S: arty, warm, soothing, and comfortable. The classic joke: R&S have the apps and running late, but it never matters. We meld and shape to the evening, wherever we are, whoever is there and however it plays.
The apps mushroom and asparagus with crostini....I can scarcely remember, just that it was oh-so-delicious. And the scene stealer, the widow, THE WIDOW! There are more sophisticated bubbles, more precise and acidic or leesy, but the WIDOW always pleases. ALWAYS.
Suzie's to die for pork with polenta and kale. I could die eating the crusty edges of Suzie's roast pork with no regrets. The bevs: a truly delightful montepulciano d'abruzzo (date can't recall) with overtones of rich soil and blood and tart berries (!), a puzzling 2000 pinot from Archery Summit that, in a blind tasting, I would have bet was a WWW syrah, so sweet and candied and so unpinot like, a 2006 Barolo that tasted basic and lacking in sophistry, and second label from Cougar Creek...involution? inception? convolution? I can't recall its name but it was waaaay too easy to drink. Well, they all were ant that should come as no surprise sports fans.
K's signature salad cleansed the palate with immense pleasure. It was exactly what you wanted to eat to buoy up, for the evening was young yet. I can't be objective about that salad; it's one of my favorites, rich but not filling.
Finally KT's dualing desserts: a chocolate torte and a wenatchee apple torte. Both beguiling and befitting the end of such a delightful evening. What is it about food and friends and wine and friends that stirs the soul, that satisfies the longing to be part of a larger reality...the great unspecified ALL? Don't really know but I do know that it works and that it works because of all of you/us.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
SWIRL: The Extended Family Version
"Long time since I've called down this mountain before." Beautiful words, eh? And the melody that goes with them is so moving that you can accept these words as if they make a dreamy impeccable sense...which they may; I'm not the best at pulling stract from the abstract. But this phrase seems appropriate as I climb back on the horse that brought me here, to you, to the chronicles of our gustatory play.
Forgive me for not chronicling our December Swirl. It was magnificent and this far out from that date it is probably best to toss out the old "you had to be there" sobriquet and let it go at that. We have matured to the point that we don't need every detail of each and every wine and dish to give them cred. Thank heavens, for that, as my 'each and every detail' gets thinner with the passing days. Fortunately, my ability to hold to memories still runs a few weeks out, so let's talk about the 12th of February before it slips away.
A wonderful evening, the 12th, perfect except for the absence of the ailing Lee and her wet nurse Rick. Those gathered were drawn to the promise of a white boy's version of jambalaya and his wife's rebel anthem: "hungry, thirsty, lonely? Come on to my kitchen." This, I believe, can be the Swirl version of the Statue of Liberty credo; except our welcomer of all huddled masses will be foisting a 1998 Vieux Telegraphe CDP, as her beacon against the darkness that stalks all tattered souls. A mystical promise for redemption.
The food as always, stellar. We are good cooks, one and all. Some with oodles of finesse and some with a platter full of good intentions, but it all always finds a way to the table, graciously received. Jewel kicked us off with some My T Fine shrimp, lavished with a creole sauce. She also graciously proffered up the sparkle and shine of the "J". Something in that sparkling wine felt familiar: we've had it before, but it felt new again, like a long absent uncle who's been away traveling over seas and now returns with a new gusto and mysticism that we'd not noticed before.Vaguely remembered, perhaps, but now it was like we were seeing him with new eyes: "hey, let's spend more time with Uncle J. He's a lot of fun to be around!"
Dinner followed. Steve's fab-u-lish beans of many colors and shapes; Suzie's plate/pallete of perfectly roasted vegetables; and the cacophony of rice/vegetables/chicken-ham-sausage known as jambalaya. To this table of warm, comfortable food came our various vinous relations:
Forgive me for not chronicling our December Swirl. It was magnificent and this far out from that date it is probably best to toss out the old "you had to be there" sobriquet and let it go at that. We have matured to the point that we don't need every detail of each and every wine and dish to give them cred. Thank heavens, for that, as my 'each and every detail' gets thinner with the passing days. Fortunately, my ability to hold to memories still runs a few weeks out, so let's talk about the 12th of February before it slips away.
A wonderful evening, the 12th, perfect except for the absence of the ailing Lee and her wet nurse Rick. Those gathered were drawn to the promise of a white boy's version of jambalaya and his wife's rebel anthem: "hungry, thirsty, lonely? Come on to my kitchen." This, I believe, can be the Swirl version of the Statue of Liberty credo; except our welcomer of all huddled masses will be foisting a 1998 Vieux Telegraphe CDP, as her beacon against the darkness that stalks all tattered souls. A mystical promise for redemption.
The food as always, stellar. We are good cooks, one and all. Some with oodles of finesse and some with a platter full of good intentions, but it all always finds a way to the table, graciously received. Jewel kicked us off with some My T Fine shrimp, lavished with a creole sauce. She also graciously proffered up the sparkle and shine of the "J". Something in that sparkling wine felt familiar: we've had it before, but it felt new again, like a long absent uncle who's been away traveling over seas and now returns with a new gusto and mysticism that we'd not noticed before.Vaguely remembered, perhaps, but now it was like we were seeing him with new eyes: "hey, let's spend more time with Uncle J. He's a lot of fun to be around!"
Dinner followed. Steve's fab-u-lish beans of many colors and shapes; Suzie's plate/pallete of perfectly roasted vegetables; and the cacophony of rice/vegetables/chicken-ham-sausage known as jambalaya. To this table of warm, comfortable food came our various vinous relations:
- Kay invited her 1994 warm and supple Rioja. It felt like perfectly laundered and worn percale sheets; you know the kind: you slip in and feel overwhelmed by time-worn comfort; subtle, regal, no-need-to-fret goodness, like a garment - your favorite - that always fits just right and always feels so good against your skin. Thank you sister Kay.
- Barry and Suzie brought along the bright "new" Rioja, from 2006, I believe. This elegant and well mannered child showed the cut and jib of proper breeding: not stuffy or aloof, but the polish and verve of one who knows his good fortune and wears it with grace and humility. Thank you brother Barry and sister Suzie.
- Ruth and Steve came with the twins, Amity's Riesling and Pinot Blanc. Lady Riesling, elegant and graceful, sweet without sugary sappiness; a quiet beauty that added extra light to the room; not shy, mind you, but without any need to draw attention to herself. Sadly, Lady P. Blanc did not have time to say much, out done by the full chatter of others, but she remained on, after you all had gone home, and she became our delightful companion for many evenings of leftovers; clearly used to be slightly shadowed by her older sister, Lady R, on her own her voice is clear and resolute and engaging. I think she might be more at home at smaller venues, more intimate affairs. Which is not to say that she's a shrinking violet, only that she will not shout to be heard. Thank you brother Steve and sister Ruth.
- Jewel, doubling her generosity, also brought along her fresh off the plane cousin from eastern Washington, Amavi syrah. Miss Amavi was thrilled to make our acquaintance Fresh faced and robust with the latest fashion, she settled in with the assurance of one who knows the world and is easily comfortable in any setting. New to us but with a niggling sense that you've seen her before. Thank you sister Jewel.
- Gene threw out a picnic wine, a 2007 beaujolais village, but it was no match for this table. Realizing that its time was not at hand, it sat quietly drinking in the evening, not brooding but appreciating the evening for what it was. Next time brother Gene.
Amidst the clatter and clamor of dinner, Kay quietly slipped in yet another homage to the goddess of salade. Rich and cleansing, restorative and elegant. By this time, the wines were nearing the end, the company of friends and relations warming us into a languid familiarity; it was as the youth like to say, "it's all gooood".
Ah, but wait. We were not done yet! The down but not out Lee could not be here in the flesh but her spirit lived on in a Gluten Corrected pear crumble. (Food Police: if it wasn't a crumble, per se, be not too harsh for your scribe tries his best). A beautiful end to a fine meal, continuing on with the overwhelming sense of comfort and goodness that befalls all events under our direction and gaze.
Amongst the various foods/wines and relations, we were also blessed to have the Dentist from Down Under, Mark, join our table. The lilt of another accent added a nice bit of spice to our tribal accord. Welcome any time, Mate!
This is my long and long-winded recollection of our evening. Add, subtract as you see fit fellow Swirlers.
G
Sunday, November 7, 2010
A Repent, of Sorts
Fellow Swirlers,
I have been unfair in making this blog my personal canvas, when the intent was always to illuminate our group gatherings. Obviously, you know that this was an accident, but it happened nonetheless. So, what to do? After consulting with my beloved consort and consuela, my need to blather on about wine, food and untethered opinions will migrate to a "second label" if you will, and so Wine E the Elder is born. This is not to diminish the comings, goings, gatherings and errata of the SWIRL group. No, these will go on in this blog, as originally intended and I hope you will feel free to post ad nauseum accordingly. But my self-indulgent moods will find a new canvas, sparing you the taint by association.
Bright blessings on your day.
g
p.s. If you want to see the "Second Label" it can be found at wineytheelder.blogspot.com
I have been unfair in making this blog my personal canvas, when the intent was always to illuminate our group gatherings. Obviously, you know that this was an accident, but it happened nonetheless. So, what to do? After consulting with my beloved consort and consuela, my need to blather on about wine, food and untethered opinions will migrate to a "second label" if you will, and so Wine E the Elder is born. This is not to diminish the comings, goings, gatherings and errata of the SWIRL group. No, these will go on in this blog, as originally intended and I hope you will feel free to post ad nauseum accordingly. But my self-indulgent moods will find a new canvas, sparing you the taint by association.
Bright blessings on your day.
g
p.s. If you want to see the "Second Label" it can be found at wineytheelder.blogspot.com
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Swirling Loyalties
Well this is fine kettle of fish, as my grandmother would say: sitting here wolfing down a big Killer Burger, washing it down with the '03 Abeja's Beekeeper's Blend, all the while cheering the S.F. Giants on to a World Series victory. The Giants!? For christ's sake, what has become of me? I grew up a Dodger fan and the Giants, like the Yankees, are the ever-hated enemy!
But somehow, and I'll avoid the long diatribe on the yankeeization of the Dodgers by their upper management, the Giants - described as a rag-tag bunch of misfits - have developed a charm that is seducing. A starting pitcher with long hair, called the "Freak", assorted players that had been tossed to the curb by other teams, a relief pitcher who dies his beard black to look menacing (while sporting a baby pony-tail) amalgamating into an awesome team....a true "team" that is rare in professional sports. And I like them. They don't seem stuffy; one player described the dug-out as Halloween every day. It's a sport and they seem to be genuinely having a great time "playing", which is the goal, no? At any rate, SF is a great town and this team seems to be a good face for it: an amalgamation of parts that just wants to have fun. Let your Freak flag fly!
And so the wine, the Beekeepers Blend, an amalgamation of cab sauvignon, merlot and cab franc, a soft, round joyous unpretentious quaff that fit the food and the fete perfectly. Abeja's tendency to be "stuffy and pretentious" aside, this their 'commoners' blend is a solid expression of what underlies all the over oaked, over extracted, high alcohol wines that often roll out of the WWW world. This wine, then, is the Giants of Walla Walla: fun and easy going. Not the pedigree of Cayuse or Leonetti or even the Abeja high end wines - the Yankees of the wally wine world. Nope. Just wine for the masses to enjoy and not take so seriously. Sorry Mollie-tude: your prissy, haughty mien is no match for the bee's work. Perhaps you should drink more and die your beard black and find your inner freak. It's liberating, as this former Giant hater can attest.
But somehow, and I'll avoid the long diatribe on the yankeeization of the Dodgers by their upper management, the Giants - described as a rag-tag bunch of misfits - have developed a charm that is seducing. A starting pitcher with long hair, called the "Freak", assorted players that had been tossed to the curb by other teams, a relief pitcher who dies his beard black to look menacing (while sporting a baby pony-tail) amalgamating into an awesome team....a true "team" that is rare in professional sports. And I like them. They don't seem stuffy; one player described the dug-out as Halloween every day. It's a sport and they seem to be genuinely having a great time "playing", which is the goal, no? At any rate, SF is a great town and this team seems to be a good face for it: an amalgamation of parts that just wants to have fun. Let your Freak flag fly!
And so the wine, the Beekeepers Blend, an amalgamation of cab sauvignon, merlot and cab franc, a soft, round joyous unpretentious quaff that fit the food and the fete perfectly. Abeja's tendency to be "stuffy and pretentious" aside, this their 'commoners' blend is a solid expression of what underlies all the over oaked, over extracted, high alcohol wines that often roll out of the WWW world. This wine, then, is the Giants of Walla Walla: fun and easy going. Not the pedigree of Cayuse or Leonetti or even the Abeja high end wines - the Yankees of the wally wine world. Nope. Just wine for the masses to enjoy and not take so seriously. Sorry Mollie-tude: your prissy, haughty mien is no match for the bee's work. Perhaps you should drink more and die your beard black and find your inner freak. It's liberating, as this former Giant hater can attest.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Perfection
Monday we had an outrageous meal. The parts themselves would have been excellent, but together they took us to an altogether new direction of good. I realize that I risk censure from those who are rightly repelled by hyperbole but they (whoever they are) weren't here to swoop and swoon over this extraordinary wine and food pairing.
First, the food: a wonderful saute of peppers, carrots, bok choy blended into an Indian Coconut Curry sauce that we picked up at Costco (include the "t", please). KT made it swim with goodness, layered over basmati rice. To this we added a 2001 Hirschi Austrian Riesling that was nothing short of ethereal. Crisp, laser acidity, after nine years, swirling around a circumferential butterscotch, caramel goodness that was not sweet or unctuous but going on and on and on with flavor. The sharp acidity spoke of citrus, clean and exquisite, softened by the edge of caramel richness. Unbelievably good in some many ways and so deep and with the food, it was perfect. This is not hyperbole. It was a match of heavenly proportions. A riesling that gave a hint of petroleum on the nose, but in the mouth...OMG...pure, lingering pleasure. But maybe, you had to be there?
First, the food: a wonderful saute of peppers, carrots, bok choy blended into an Indian Coconut Curry sauce that we picked up at Costco (include the "t", please). KT made it swim with goodness, layered over basmati rice. To this we added a 2001 Hirschi Austrian Riesling that was nothing short of ethereal. Crisp, laser acidity, after nine years, swirling around a circumferential butterscotch, caramel goodness that was not sweet or unctuous but going on and on and on with flavor. The sharp acidity spoke of citrus, clean and exquisite, softened by the edge of caramel richness. Unbelievably good in some many ways and so deep and with the food, it was perfect. This is not hyperbole. It was a match of heavenly proportions. A riesling that gave a hint of petroleum on the nose, but in the mouth...OMG...pure, lingering pleasure. But maybe, you had to be there?
Monday, October 25, 2010
So this is what the fuss is about!
Rainy Sunday dinner: braised short ribs in a succulent, spicy tomato sauce; white corn grits to place it on; ubiquitous broccoli. In a word: YUM!
Our vinous guest of the evening: 1996 Caprilli Brunello di Montalcino. I have stared at that bottle for a loooong time, wondering if it was foolish to let it lay, trusting those who attest to the longetivity of this wine. Finally, fourteen years seemed enough and I have a 1997 too, so I wanted to get a glimpse of what was going on in the bottle. We don't have huge temperature fluctuations in our basement, but you never know. The cork came out in one piece (a plus with older wines, in my experience - 10+ years of age is my benchmark for old, since we didn't start collecting until 1998) and the royal, regal dark purple robe poured silkily into the waiting glass. No brickish, brown rim hinting at age....just nobility. The nose so elegant and divine with no hint of pretense, just fruit and flowers, gamey, chocolate, coffee..all so subtle yet profound. And the taste: oh my! Full of flavor, impeccably smooth and elegant; fruit, coffee, leather in equal proportions and still some mild tannins to let you know that this pup could have lain a while longer. It was hauntingly beautiful....imagine a nobility that is generous and kind and loving, but make-no-mistake, it's a blue blood. It's like the pictures you see of Prince Phillip, such an openly human man for a monarch; royalty with grace. This wine was that. It didn't have gender characteristics; it could just as easily be compared to Grace Kelly. Prince Kelley? Just know that the wait was worth it and I'm encouraged to wait on others. I'm not often disappointed. I certainly wasn't tonight.
Our vinous guest of the evening: 1996 Caprilli Brunello di Montalcino. I have stared at that bottle for a loooong time, wondering if it was foolish to let it lay, trusting those who attest to the longetivity of this wine. Finally, fourteen years seemed enough and I have a 1997 too, so I wanted to get a glimpse of what was going on in the bottle. We don't have huge temperature fluctuations in our basement, but you never know. The cork came out in one piece (a plus with older wines, in my experience - 10+ years of age is my benchmark for old, since we didn't start collecting until 1998) and the royal, regal dark purple robe poured silkily into the waiting glass. No brickish, brown rim hinting at age....just nobility. The nose so elegant and divine with no hint of pretense, just fruit and flowers, gamey, chocolate, coffee..all so subtle yet profound. And the taste: oh my! Full of flavor, impeccably smooth and elegant; fruit, coffee, leather in equal proportions and still some mild tannins to let you know that this pup could have lain a while longer. It was hauntingly beautiful....imagine a nobility that is generous and kind and loving, but make-no-mistake, it's a blue blood. It's like the pictures you see of Prince Phillip, such an openly human man for a monarch; royalty with grace. This wine was that. It didn't have gender characteristics; it could just as easily be compared to Grace Kelly. Prince Kelley? Just know that the wait was worth it and I'm encouraged to wait on others. I'm not often disappointed. I certainly wasn't tonight.
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