Drink Bravely

Report from the 2009 Aspen Food & Wine Classic
Posted on by Mark Oldman

Food & WineThe Aspen Food & Wine Classic last week was once again one of the most promiscuously flavorful weekends of the year.

I also had the good fortune to visit with other illustrious speakers, including cheese-goddess Laura Werlin, wine-goddess Lettie Teague, the perfectly pocket-squared Brian Duncan, and the smartly-sweatered Tony Giglio. There truly is no better pairing than food & wine.

Another highlight of the weekend was the Best New Chefs Dinner, which featured delectable creations such as the a crab cocktail shooter from Bryan Caswell of Houston’s Reef, pork meatballs from Nate Appleman of San Francisco’s A16, and a grilled pimento cheese and bacon sandwich from Linton Hopkins of Atlanta’s Holeman & Finch.  I practically feel to my knees in bliss sampling the succulent pork belly sandwich topped with kimchi from Vinny Dotolo and Jon Shook of LA’s Animal.

My own seminars at Food & Wine this year were entitled “Hard to Say, Easy to Drink” and “Outsmarting Wine 101”.  To select the final twelve wines from 186 contenders, I once again employed a tasting panel of wine-passionate friends.   On a mild Saturday night this March, we diligently swirled and spit around a table in the techno-cool offices of my pal Mark Hernandez’s electronic interior design company, Cliqk.   After the evaluative part of the tasting, the evening somehow transformed into a raucous rager with dozens of thirsty friends somehow finding the stamina to help us drain those 186 bottles.

Food & Wine

The twelve winning selections that I included in my Aspen Classic seminars were:

“Hard to Say, Easy to Drink”
Egly-Ouriet Brut Tradition Grand Cru NV ($70, France)
(Egg-lee Oo-ree-ay)
Txomin Etxaniz Txakoli 2008 (Spain, $22)
(Sho-MEEN Ex-TAN-ess Choc-oh-lee)
Boutari Moschofilero 2007 (Greece, $11)
(Mosque-oh-FEEL-arrow)
Feudi di San Gregorio Aglianico “Rubrato” 2006 (Italy, $17)
(Ah-LYAH-nee-koe )
Quinta do Crasto Touriga Nacional 2005 (Portugal, $65)
(Tou-REEGA Nah-shu-nal)
The Black Chook Sparkling Shiraz NV  (Australia, $15)
(hard Ch, rhymes with “hook”)

“Outsmarting Wine 101”:
Adriano Adami Prosecco di Valdobbiadene 2007 (Italy, $23)
Te Kairanga Sauvignon Blanc Martinborough 2008 (New Zealand, $19)
Plantagenet Unoaked Chardonnay 2007 (Australia, $18)
Erath Pinot Noir Dundee Hills Estate Selection 2006 (Oregon, $32)
Gundlach Bundschu Merlot Rhinefarm Vineyard 2005 (California, $30)
Justin “Isosceles” Paso Robles 2006 (California, $55)

Pride of Paso
Posted on by Mark Oldman

Paso Robles Pride:

“Cut! It’s pronounced ‘Pah-Soe Roh-Bulls.’”

I was in California’s Paso Robles, serving as a lead judge for the new PBS television series, “The Winemakers,” when the filming came to abrupt halt after I mangled the pronunciation of the very wine region where we were. I had assumed it was uttered as the elegant, Spanish-inflected “Rrroh-blays,” not the clunky, Americanized “Roh-bulls,” which sounds more like a piece of farm equipment than it does a vinous appellation. But when several locals on the set rushed to correct the errors of my tongue, I got the message.

My inability to pronounce it notwithstanding, Paso Robles – located on California’s Central Coast about midway between San Francisco and Los Angeles – is one of world’s most promising wine regions. The last twenty or so years have seen a dramatic infusion of winemaking talent there, with wineries like Saxon, Alban, and Linne Calod–o leveraging the region’s sunny-but-cool climate and limestone-rich soil to produce wine of first rank. Europeans are also plumbing the potential of Paso, with Frenchmen behind superlative local labels such as L’Aventure and Tablas Creek, the latter of which is co-owned by François Perrin of the Rhône Valley’s legendary Château Beaucastel.

If one were to single out the eminence grise of Paso, it would be Justin Winery, which was founded in 1981 by former banker Justin Baldwin and his wife Deborah. Over the years Justin has made consistently exceptional wine, the zenith of which is a Cabernet Sauvignon-dominated blend called Isosceles Reserve. Though it is comprised of Bordeaux grapes, don’t expect the Isosceles Reserve to have the fragile finesse of an aged red Bordeaux; rather, like many top pours from these sunny Californian climes, the Isosceles Reserve arrives on the scene ready to rumble, typically showing ripe, flamboyant fruit, a generous dose of alcohol, and tannins that are often pronounced but not out-of-proportion.

These qualities mean that the Isosceles Reserve can often benefit from a few years of bottle aging as well as aeration in a decanter for about an hour before serving. The current release, the 2005 Isosceles Reserve ($95), sports mega-ripe plummy fruit, notes of tobacco and coffee, and muscular tannins that should integrate beautifully in a few years. Another pick is the 2002 Isosceles Reserve ($100), which is built for immediate pleasure with irresistible layers of blackcurrants and cassis, hints of chocolate and mocha, and a rich, velvety finish that lasts for an eternity – or at least for as long as it would take to pronounce “Paso Robles” a few dozen times.

Moonshining Through Thanksgiving
Posted on by Mark Oldman

moonshineMoonshine: In New Orleans for Thanksgiving, I made sure to drink American. No, not Zinfandel, the uniquely American red, rich with ripe fruit and black pepper, that flatters the diverse tastes of the Thanksgiving table.

Instead, my patriotic pour was none other than the infamous, unlicensed libation known as moonshine, which, until then, I thought was solely the stuff of hillbilly hellmaking.  To my delight, however, home-brewed spirits – dubbed “moonshine,” and also “skull cracker,” “ruckus juice,” and the “sweet spirits of cats a-fighting” – are waiting to be discovered in some of the Big Easy’s best eateries.  It happens to be on the dessert wine list at Cochon, a spectacular sanctum of Southern swine cookery.  At dinner, we started with wood-roasted oysters and then literally pigged out on pork ribs, fried boudin with pickled peppers, roasted pork shoulder, creamy grits, cucumbers in vinegar, and smothered greens – all washed down with bottles of cleansingly crisp Commanderie de Peyrassol Rosé 2007.

It was then time to shine, so to speak, with two commercially-available moonshines: Virginia Lightning Corn Whiskey and Catdaddy Carolina Moonshine.  The first was clear to the eye and lethal to the larynx, a tribute to the grab-anything-in-the-parents’-liquor-cabinet mistakes of my teens, a liquid “mule kick” if ever there was one.  The Catdaddy, however was a different animal altogether, with a rounder, sweeter side, and flavors of nutmeg and butterscotch taming its bourbon-y bite.  I liked it so much that I picked up two bottles the next day at Martin Wine Cellar on Magazine Street.
I was still on my moonshine high when we went to dinner the next night at Herbsaint, which is Cochon’s more upscale sister eatery, both owned by James Beard-winning chef Donald Link.  While feasting on a lushly-textured Kurabuta pork belly and a bright-but-earthy red Burgundy, I asked general manager and wine buyer Joe Briand if Herbsaint was also in possession of moonshine.  He smiled knowingly and invited us to roll up to bar before we left.  We did, and there he retrieved two Mason jars sitting discreetly behind the bar.  They turned out to be the realest of real deals: home-brewed hooch, illicitly distilled and smuggled to New Orleans in someone’s truck; that someone apparently gets around the law by not selling it to the restaurant outright but by bartering it for the occasional dinner.  The production and sale of such private-label (or, this case, no-label) hooch is illegal (though rarely prosecuted by the authorities today) due in part to backwoods distillers’ dangerously primitive practices, such as using a car radiator as a condenser and a campfire as a heat source.  These methods have been known to imperil the distiller or poison the drinker.
But because it was acquired by one of New Orleans’ top restaurants, the moonshine before us seemed more like it would be an artisanal creation – not unlike unpasteurized gourmet cheese or high-end homemade wine – that was more Great Gatsby than Uncle Jessie.  Even so, when I tasted the clear liquid of the first jar, I could have sworn I heard the banjo picking of the Dukes of Hazzard theme – as my motor skills were beginning their own hazardous journey.
“This one is not about flavor, it’s about proof,” Briand explained. “It’s simply a means to an end.”  Indeed, this was ruckus juice at full squeeze, better suited to battlefield anesthetization than it was to postprandial relaxation.  The second moonshine, however, struck a better balance.  Carmel-colored from oak aging, its high-proof potency was tempered by a smooth, cider-like flavor, not unlike a nice glass of Calvados, the apple brandy from Normandy, France.
What better way to celebrate Thanksgiving than with a mysterious tonic in a city that is like moonshine itself: clandestine, dangerous, marginally legal, and an XXX barrel of fun.

Other libational highlights:
– Melini Vernaccia “Le Grillaie” 2004 (at Galatoire’s, recommended by the incredibly knowledgeable general manager/wine sage Chris Ycaza)
– Rene Rostaing Coteaux du Languedoc “Puech Chaud” 2004 (another terrific Ycaza pick)
– Domaine Chevillon-Chezeaux Nuits-St-Georges “Les Saint-Julien” 2005 (a Briand recommendation at Herbsaint)
– Brander Cuvée Natalie 2006 (Sauvignon Blanc blended with Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Pinot Blanc, at Mr. B’s Bistro)
– Pol Roger Rosé 1990 (hauled from home)

The Biggie Show: Aspen ’08
Posted on by Mark Oldman

Once again, the Aspen FOOD & WINE Classic proved itself a gastronomic Shangri-La — a confluence of sips, sustenance, and setting of Mr. Roarkian wondrousness.

aspen

My seminars this year were “Rosé Renaissance” and “ABC’s of Wine”.  To ensure that each wine was worthy of the Classic’s illustrious attendees (including my sister), I again enlisted the palates of my Manhattan-based “Civilian Tasting Panel,” a circle of discerning but non-professional tasters organized by my buddies Mark Hernandez and Judge Kirby.  After sampling close to 90 wines this winter, these winners emerged:

Rosé Renaissance:
1) Delamotte Rosé Brut NV (France, $90)
2) Domaines Ott, Chateau de Selles, Rosé 2006 (France, $38)
3) Domaine de la Mordorée, “Dame Rousse,” Tavel Rosé 2007 (France, $28)
4) Tablas Creek Rosé Paso Robles 2007 (California, $22)
5) Crios de Susana Balbo Rosé Of Malbec 2007 (Argentina, $12)
6) Bodegas R. Lopez de Heredia, Vina Tondonia, Rosado 1997 (Spain, $28)

ABC’s of Wine:
1) Mionetto “Sergio MO ” NV (Italy, $22)
2) Saint Clair Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough 2007 (New Zealand, $20)
3) Beringer Chardonnay Private Reserve 2006 (California, $35)
4) A to Z Wineworks Pinot Noir 2006 (Oregon, $19)
5) Hess Collection Cabernet Sauvignon Mount Veeder 2004 (California, $50)
6) Peachy Canyon Zinfandel Paso Robles Westside 2006 (California, $29)

Being at the Aspen Classic also affords the opportunity to visit with various superheroes of food and wine, including, this year, Gail Simmons, the irresistible judge from Bravo’s “Top Chef.”

Finally, I offer a grateful knuckle-knock to the Aspen Daily News for their kind words in this Monday’s issue:

“Mark Oldman had to be the most entertaining wine speaker of the weekend.  In his seminar, Rosé Renaissance, the wine author managed to incorporate some Biggie Smalls lyrics while discussing a $90 bottle of French champagne; led a little chant and dance on how to taste wine; and shared his method of pouring undrunk rosé into a Gatorade bottle when unable to finish a bottle of the pink stuff in a restaurant.  While his seminar slightly overlapped the Saturday Grand Tasting, very few looked as though they wanted to leave as the volunteers signaled that his time was up.”

Flying with Wine: Building the Perfect Booze Bag
Posted on by Mark Oldman

Like Linus with his safety blanket, I always seem have a bottle of wine in tow. This can be problematic – as I learned this summer when flying out of Atlanta’s airport – when one forgets that TSA rules now prohibit thirsty trekkers from carrying aboard when flying, even one wine bottle – even if it is unopened and placed in the world’s largest Ziploc pouch. After TSA officers caught me with a bottle of Delamotte Brut Rosé Champagne NV after I inadvertently left it in my carry-on bag, I returned to the airport’s lobby and scrambled to find the most parched potential recipient. First, I offered it to a circle of Army infantrymen in uniform, figuring that no one needed a good swig more than they.
“We’re flying, too,” they informed me, almost in unison.
Roger that. I revised my mission to find someone who looked deserving and who wouldn’t need to pass through the security checkpoint that day. I found my mark by a burger joint, where a sweet-looking couple in their twenties was enjoying a leisurely lunch.
“Are you flying today?” I inquired.
They eyeballed me warily, probably searching for a Hare Krishna robe hiding beneath my sweater.
“No, we’re waiting to pick up friends.”
With Bob Barkerian ebullience, I extended the bottle their way and explained:
“Security won’t let me take this through the metal detector – and it’s too late to check my bag. Would you like it?”

wine smuggle flying travelling

They still hesitated.  Who can blame them, with the airport intercom’s endless warnings about not accepting scary packages from strangers.

“It’s a $75 bottle of Champagne,” I offered.

That did it.  Their hesitation melted into jubilation.  A businessman in pinstripes eating next to them – likely a wine connoisseur — shot me why-didn’t-you-pick-me look.  My bubbly baton, finally, was passed.

Then, a few weeks ago, before heading to one of those ultra-trendy, extortionist hotels in Miami’s South Beach for the week, I resolved to bring my own stash of wine in order to avoid paying bottle-service prices for a 7-11 wine.  (My penchant for traveling and flying with wine is well known to my friends and has also been documented in this New York Times piece).  But multiple bottles wouldn’t fit in my regular suitcase and packing them properly and Fed-Ex-ing them down to the hotel in time would cost hundreds of dollars.

The solution?  I headed down to Manhattan’s Fourteenth Street, a bleak, Bucharest-like boulevard known for dollar-stores, pawn shops, electronics in various states of inoperability, and really cheap luggage.

“What is your least expensive but sturdiest roller bag?” I asked the clammy Cosmo Kramer-type hovering near the bags at Balas Electronics and Gifts.

He pointed me to a perfectly-fine-looking stewardess-style bag with “Bonjour” emblazoned its strap.  Now this was a find: only $20 and linguistically faithful to wine’s spiritual homeland!  But when I gave it a test roll, it wobbled like soused sailor.

“Ah, let me get you a fresh one,” Kramer said, as if I were purchasing a juicy but bruised piece of fruit.  He rummaged around in a back room and produced a bag with a slightly better gait – wheels sturdy enough for a toddler’s toy or, just possibly, a one-time rumble with Continental Airlines baggage handlers.

Back at my place, I wrapped seven wine bottles in t-shirts and Fred Perry track pants and stuffed all of it into the bag, creating a de facto hamper-cum-wine locker.  To my amazement, the bag survived the trip to the airport, and most surprisingly, emerged in one piece – though extra wobbly — at the baggage claim in Miami.

In my hotel room, I unzipped the bag, expecting an abbreviated version of that scene in The Shining when the sea of blood comes rushing out of the elevators.  Instead, the bottles were dry and happy, ready to slake the thirst of anyone with a corkscrew.

The experiment a success, I guided the teetering bag downstairs to Ocean Boulevard and thought about how a bag purchased in one of the world’s dreariest locations would now be discarded in a movie-set scene of paradise – well, if your idea of paradise involves pink flamingos and the synthesizers of Jan Hammer.  Placing it atop a public garbage can — amid azure skies, majestic palms, and a silly Day-Glo bench — I gave it a respectful salute.  Au revoir Bonjour booze bag!

In the bag:

Schramsberg Crémant Demi-Sec 2004 (California, $35)
Taittinger Brut Champagne Millésimé 2000 (France, $75)
Domaine Carneros Brut Rosé NV (California, $35)
Jelu Torrontés 2007 (Argentina, $12)
Taz Pinot Gris 2005 (California, $15)
Tulocay “Nord Valley Vineyard” Pinot Noir 2001 (California, $22)
WillaKenzie Pinot Noir 2005 (Oregon, $24)

flying flying with wine