“Montalcino is a land kissed by G-d,” said my friend winemaker Fabrizio Bindocci when I joined him and his son Alessandro yesterday for lunch at Tenuta Il Poggione, one of my favorite Brunello producers.
You really couldn’t argue with Fabrizio’s statement after tasting his 1979 Vino Rosso dai Vigneti di Brunello.
I haven’t had time to write up my notes from the wines we tasted but I will in coming weeks.
In the meantime, I did manage to file an overview of Brunello yesterday for the Houston Press. It includes a photo I took from Il Palazzone where I was visiting with my friends Laura and Marco and their brood: it was so clear on Saturday, you could actually see the Tyrrhenian sea from their winery in the village of Montalcino.
Whereas blogging is all about the immediacy of the medium (literally and figuratively), writing, recording, and releasing an album is a long process whereby the initial inspiration is transformed through a complex and articulated series of steps to final track — composition, demo, recording, overdubs, editing, mixing, mastering, printing, distribution etc.
In January 2011, when I wrote and recorded the first demo of “Freudian Slip,” which became the title track of the new CD, I had just returned from Houston where I had learned that Cousin Marty had been diagnosed with bladder cancer. If you’ve been following along here at my blog, you know the avuncular role he’s played in my life since I moved to Texas nearly three years ago: not only has he embraced me with the warmth of a long-lost and newfound cousin, but he’s also shared with me his gusto for all things enogastronomic.
Growing up a teenager in La Jolla, California, I didn’t have much of a relationship with father Zane, Marty’s first cousin: a classically trained Freudian psychoanalist, Zane was estranged from our family after an inquiry revealed that he’d been having sexual relations with his patients: an egregious and bourgeois transgression that began before I was born and that emerged publicly when I was eleven years old — a family catastrophe that received brutal coverage in the local and national media.
Finding and forging a relationship with Marty was like being given a second chance to have a father, someone who rejoiced in my successes and shared the burdens of my challenges in building a new life here in Texas with Tracie P, whom he adores.
When I found out that Marty was ill, I became depressed and stressed by the anxiety (a bitter twist of fate?) that I would lose this happy relation so shortly after it had been born. Marty had already brought so much joy into my life and thankfully he beat his cancer with flying colors. But at the time, the prognosis was uncertain and I selfishly let my fear express itself in a dark song I called “Freudian Soup” (the title of the earliest version).
When I sent it to my writing partner, Céline Dijon (my good friend and sister I never had, Verena Wiesendanger), she set about writing the lyrics as a dialogue between Zane and the woman who most famously sued him, changing the title to “Freudian Slip,” acte manqué in French.
Today, when I listen to the track, nearly a year later, the cathartic drum fill that opens the song (by Julien Galner of the Paris-based band Château Marmont), chills still run down my spine.
All but the vocals for this track were recorded in my studio in Austin. The arpeggiated harpsichord is the very same one from the original demo.
When he finished mixing the record this summer, Jean-Luc Retard (Dan Crane, the third element in our writing troika, my bandmate and friend since 1998) suggested that we call the album “Freudian Slip.”
Thanks for listening and for reading and thanks for the support… It means the world to me…
Here’s the video for the new single, “J’en Ai Marre (Had Enough)”, a song that Céline and I wrote about bullying:
I’ve been having a blast this year curating the wine list at Sotto, which has just been named “one of the best new restaurants of 2011” by Esquire.
Chef Steve Samson (above) and I became close friends nearly a quarter of a century ago when we were on our junior year abroad in Italy. He and Chef Zach Pollack have been doing great things in the kitchen and the Neapolitan pizza is imho one of the best if not the best in the country.
In nearly every region of Italy where I’ve tasted, I’ve met winemakers who cite Giorgio Grai as their mentors. I met the man once, many years ago, in New York at a tasting of his wines at Le Cirque. Now in his 80s, the tireless Italian master continues to consult and make wine (and drive race cars). Elegant, refined, polyglot, polymath… I think of him as the James Bond of Italian wine. Francesco called him from the table and we shared the immense sensorial and intellectual pleasure inspired by this wine, still very youthful in its development.
The acidity and freshness in this wine were brilliant and its focus and precision awe-inspiring. Ripe red fruit with notes of cinnamon and eastern spice and a gentle menthol note that emerged with aeration. Where other expressions of Cabernet Sauvignon make me yawn, this wine made me cry…
Baron de Ladoucette 1983 Pouilly-Fumé Baron de L
This wine was actually the opener but ubi major, minor cessat… I have to confess that I had never tasted Ladoucette: Francesco informed me that the winery’s Baron de L is considered one of the great (if not the greatest) expression of Pouilly-Fumé and Sauvignon Blanc. This wine shared its last breath of life with us, rewarding us with richness in mouthfeel and flavors of lemon custard and freshly baked pie crust and a gentle aromatic note of country herbs. With aeration, it started to wilt but its last gasps of vitality were thrilling.
Gianni Brunelli 2004 Brunello di Montalcino
When Francesco asked Laura Brunelli which vintage of her family’s wine we should drink, she and sommelier Mirko agreed that the 2004 is in a moment of grace. Its current openness shared that signature zinging acidity of Brunelli’s Sangiovese, with plum fruit and intense minerality and just a touch of savory (think carpaccio not filet mignon). Gorgeous wine that will probably close up again soon.
Duckhorn 1983 Napa Valley Merlot Three Palms
Francesco inherited his Americanophilia from his father, whose happy memories of the American liberation of Italy during the second world war, said Francesco, spurred his father to go west. Knowing that I’m from California, Francesco brought the Duckhorn as a homage to my origins. It surprised us with bright red fruit on the nose and honest acidity. But the dominance of wood in the mouth disappointed me. As balanced as it was otherwise, the wood sat on top of the wine, lacking cohesion with the other elements. Alas… America’s love affair with oaky wine always leaves me scratching my head…
I was so happy to meet Francesco and his lovely wife Marina back in June in Apulia, where he and I were both judges in a Southern Italian wine competition. Their familiar Paduan cadence brought back memories of my many years at the Università di Padova. Francesco is the president of Vinarius, the association of Italian wineshop owners. I enjoy Francesco’s company and conversation immensely and his tales of the late and great Italian wine importer Lou Iacucci had me on the edge of my seat. Here’s the link to his wine shop, just off the Piazza del Campo.
I’d eaten at Le Logge many years ago but not since the Brunelli family brought chef Nico Atrigna (right) to Siena from Campania in the mid-1990s. Laura Brunelli (left), whom I’d never met, also dined with us.
Parisi Slow-Cooked Egg with Dashi Broth, Licorice, Chives.
Note the intense yellow orange of the yolk. Parisi feeds his chickens goat milk to obtain the rich flavor and color. The best egg I’ve ever had, hands down. (See Katie Parla’s excellent post on Parisi.)
Marinated Anchovies with Tomato and Spring Onion.
Ricotta Pudding with Eggplant and Thyme Cream.
Ox Tongue with Cured Cinta Senese Shoulder Served over a Spinach Orzotto. (Cinta Senese is Siena’s heirloom striped pig, smaller in size than most hogs, making for ineffably delicate salt-cured pork.)
Veal Roulades Stuffed with Escarole and Pine Nuts Served over a Raisin and Onion Ragù.
Lamb Confit with Dried Fava Bean and Swiss Chard Sauce.
As beautiful as Italy is, as fascinating the conversations, as delicious the meals, as breath-taking the wines… it’s really hard to be away from home right now. I miss Tracie and Baby P so much… On the plane across the Atlantic, I made this video to soothe my lonesomeness and homesick blues while I’m here. “The Story of Baby P So Far (to be continued)”… I hope you enjoy it as much as I do and thanks for letting me share it with you… Buona visione!
And on the subject of family matters…
A taste of Manischewitz for Rosh Hashanah — 11 percent alcohol, mevushal (i.e., cooked so that the wine remains kosher even if handled by non-Jews), “specially sweetened” wine, “containing not less than 51 percent Concord” grapes — inspired me to write a nostalgic post for the Houston Press on Friday, “Manischewitz, a Kiddush Cup Full of Memories.”
So many stories to tell (including 1982 Grai Cabernet Sauvignon in Siena last night, thanks to my wonderfully generous friends Marina and Francesco) but now it’s time to take a little rest.
I’ve hunkered down in Montalcino where I’ll be spending the next few days.
Cold weather has only now arrived here: that’s Mt. Amiata covered in clouds in the photo above, taken this morning from Castelnuovo dell’Abate where I’m staying. It’s cooler and particularly windy here in the southern subzone of the appellation today. And it rained for about 15 minutes during lunch.
Do Bianchi 