Fruit salad and mint flowers were delicious last weekend at Leslie’s. Photo by Tracie P.
Category Archives: de cibo
Dream flight: 98 B. Mascarello, 98 Quintarelli Amarone, 90 Quintarelli Bandito (white)
From the department of “dreams do come true”…
When we sat down for dinner last week, Tony Vallone looked across the table at me and matter-of-factly said, “I have some special wines picked out for you tonight. I know you’re going to like them.” He wasn’t kidding.
I’ve been curating his blog since October 2010 and our weekly meeting has evolved into a familial kibitz where we talk about everything under the sun, alternating between English and Italian. (Long before Tracie P and I announced that we were pregnant, Tony had intuited that we were with child. “I can read it on your face,” he told me. And, all along, Tony said it was going to be a girl. He was right.)
The occasion for our dinner was an interview with one of the top wine writers in the country and Tony had asked me to join them.
After an aperitif of light, bright Colle Massari Montecucco Vermentino, the first wine in the flight was 1998 Barolo by Bartolo Mascarello (above).
I’ve tasted this wine on a number of occasions and it’s extremely tight right now, favoring its tannin and jealously guarding its fruit.
But when the server arrived with a porcini risotto topped with Umbrian truffles shaved tableside, the wine started to open up and its delicate menthol note began to give way to wild berry fruit tempered by mushrooms and earth. The acidity in this wine was singing and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Angelo Gaja’s antithetical comparison of Cabernet Sauvignon and Nebbiolo. Cabernet Sauvignon is like John Wayne, I once heard Gaja say: he who stands in the center of the room and cannot help but be noticed. Nebbiolo is like Marcello Mastroianni: he enters the room and stands quietly in the corner, waiting for you to approach him. (There’s a punchline that cannot be repeated in polite company.)
The acidity in the 98 Amarone della Valpolicella Classico was equally vibrant and its melody played a counterpoint against the delicately marbled fat of a Kobi fillet. While I’m sure that the 98 Quintarelli has many, many years ahead of it, this wine is in a moment of grace. Generous fruit set against rich structure and mouthfeel. Here, I couldn’t help be reminded of Cassiodorus’s description of Acinaticum: “On the palate, it swells up in such a way that you say it was a meaty liquid, a beverage to be eaten rather than drunk.” In this wine, meaty ripe and overripe red fruit alternated with savory flavors. An unforgettable wine in one of the most remarkable moments of its life.
And dulcis in fundo, Tony had selected a wine that he had seen me covet. A few months ago, a collector and frequent guest of Tony’s poured me a taste of the rare 1990 Quintarelli Bandito (I wrote about it here). Knowing that I longed to “drink” this wine in the context of a meal, he surprised us at the end with a 375ml bottle. This wine — last bottled by Quintarelli for the 1990 vintage — is one of the greatest expressions of Garganega I’ve ever tasted: rocks and fruit, minerality and stone and white stone fruit, dancing around a “nervy backbone of acidity” as the Italian say.
This was paired with some housemade zeppole and a dose of playful nostalgia.
Carissimo Tony, ti ringrazio di cuore per questi vini straordinari!
Soave and summer farro salad make a bleak world seem brighter
Tracie P really outdid herself yesterday night for our dinner, making a gorgeous summer farro salad with fresh and lightly blanched vegetables and fruits and hard-boiled egg. It’s a good thing she did because by the time dinner rolled around at our house, I was depressed.
After reading the dismal news about Italy, the economy, the fall of Western Civilization, and the riots and looting in London (one of my favorite cities on earth), I couldn’t help but think about the last market crash in 2008 and the days that followed the tragedy of the Twin Towers in 2001. Those were tough times for the wine (and restaurant) industry and I hope they are not returning in the wake of the current crisis.
But as Tracie P reminded me, no matter what happens, we’ll have each other and we’ll have Baby P when she arrives later this year. And for the first time in my life, as bleak as the world seems right now, my anxiety about the future is assuaged by Tracie P’s wonderful smile and her warm embrace — and a little girl growing inside her.
And as bad as things may look, we all found joy and solace in some of the simplest pleasure in life: a bright summer dish and a bright, fresh bottling of Garganega by Suavia.
We were also joined last night by Alfonso, who was in Austin on business. And it was great to be together, just the three four of us…
After dinner, we settled into the living room and watched Pasolini’s Decameron on Netflix streaming. And I think all of us thanked our lucky stars for the small pleasures that life delivers…
Here’s one of the most beautiful sequences from the film… Buona visione…
A first-kiss wine…
From the department of “somehow, some way, I just keep on getting to drink funky-assed wines like every single day”…
The incipit of last night’s flight — the overture, the prologue — was a deceivingly humble bottle of 1997 Bourgogne blanc by Leroy. Friend and collector Michael Byington (environmental consultant by day) was in Austin on business and we met up at the happy hour at Trio (half-priced by the glass, appetizer menu, and free valet parking!). While I had brought a bottle to share as well, ubi major, minor cessat: his flight was so impressive that I tucked mine in my wine bag and just stuck around and enjoyed the incredible ride.
Not only did the Leroy reward us with nuanced dried fruit and chalky minerality, vibrant acidity and a slight unctuous mouthefeel that made it pair brilliantly with the steak tartare (ingeniously served with kren by chef Todd Duplechan)…
It also brought to mind a special moment in my love affair with Tracie P: nearly three years ago, when we were still in a long-distance romance, I brought a bottle of 1997 Leroy in my checked baggage to Austin. Then, the glow of our new love was wrapped around us tightly (and still is as Tracie P carries la piccola Parzen, as at least one friend on the Facebook called her), and every wine we tasted together was a new adventure. The 97 Leroy was perhaps the first “intellectual” bottle we shared and an unforgettable moment when our palates came together like lovers floating in a painting by Chagall. As soon as the wine touched my lips, I was transported to that moment and could see Tracie P before me, her blue eyes twinkling, her golden hair shining, and her lips inviting me to taste… Aroma and flavor have such remarkably potent mnemonic power… And this wine was a window onto one of the happiest and most thrilling moments of my life.
Michael had generously reached deep into his cellar before traveling down to Austin… Next, we opened a bottle of 1998 La Bernardine by Chapoutier. Crunchy red earth, chewy flavors of game and underbrush, ripe red fruit…
The 1990 Château Pavie was in fantastic shape… I couldn’t help but think of what Houston wine writer Dale Robertson had said to me the night before: to drink a wine too old can be a felony, but to drink too young is only a misdemeanor.
Bright, red and berry fruit, ethereal sand and pebbles, a powerful lightness and delicate muscularity. (Does anyone recognize the Petrarchan themes in this post?)
We made it an early night because I wanted to get home to Tracie P. Michael insisted that I take the last glass of the Leroy home. We tasted it together once I arrived… and we floated like lovers in a painting by Chagall…
Tarallucci e Vino (biscuits and wine), an attempt at documenting the proverb
From the “una faccia una razza (one face one race)” department…
Above: Generic however delicious taralli served to us in Apulia at the Radici Wines tasting.
It all started back in June when Jancis tweeted: “Best inter-wine nibble ever: taralli from Puglia.” For three days, we had been sitting next to each other tasting and scoring Southern Italian wines at the Radici Wines festival in Apulia.
It was our last day of tasting together and one of our Italian counterparts (I can’t find the tweet) quipped back, tweeting “Finiamo a tarallucci e vino,” literally, “we finish [the tasting] with [small] taralli and wine.”
The irony in this context is owed to the proverbial meaning of the expression in Italian. To end with tarallucci [an affectionate diminutive of taralli] and wine means to resolve a dispute by pretending there were no dispute to begin with. In other words, we argued, we disagreed, but let’s have some savory biscuits and wine and pretend that there is no acrimony between us.
While the saying can be applied to express the sentiment that all’s well that end’s well, it can also be used ironically to denote that I believe you’re wrong but there’s no use fighting about it. (The sentiment and expression are by no means unfamiliar to Italians or those who frequent Italy and Italians; it’s often used in Italian journalistic parlance to allude to the hypocrisy of Italian politicians.)
Above: Taralli probably share a kinship with Greek koulouri (I believe the unleavened biscuits in the photo, tasted at Boutari’s Santorini tasting room, fall in the category of koulouri in the Hellenic culinary canon).
Not much is known about the origins of the term tarallo. The Cortelazzo (Zanichelli) etymological dictionary notes that the etymology is obscure, possibly from the Latin torrere, to dry up, parch, roast, bake, scorch, burn. Some point to the Greek δάρατος (dàratos), a type of Thessalian bread.
I have yet to find any reliable source that addresses the origins of the expression tarallucci e vino but the tarallo’s significance as a gesture of hospitality clearly emerges in 19th century literature. It was one of the earliest street foods of pre- and post-Risorgimento Southern Italy (Pitré, Biblioteca delle tradizioni popolari siciliane, 1883) and was presented by and to travelers when they arrived. In The Bagel: the surprising history of a modest bread (Yale 2008), Maria Balińska suggests that the tarallo may be the predecessor of the bagel.
Above: Jancis and the rest of our group paired sweet taralli and spicy Sicilian chocolate with aged Primitivo at the Pichierri winery in Sava (Taranto, Apulia).
Browsing the Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, I read that the Greek δάρατος (dàratos) was a type of unleavened bread “offered at marriage and registration ceremonies” in Hellenic Greece. And I cannot help but wonder if the tarallo’s circular, adjoined shape does not belie its use as a symbol of friendship (Balińska addresses the Italian ciambella, a similarly round unleavened bread, its relation to the bagel, and the ancient custom of presenting it to one’s host). There’s no doubt that the tarallo travels well and is easy to preserve (in Campania taralli are made with shortening and are often adorned with almonds; in Apulia, they are made with olive oil and adorned with fennel seeds).
If anyone has any insights to share, I’d greatly appreciate them. As a devout philologist, I will not rest until I get to the bottom of this conundrum and we will genuinely be able to conclude a tarallucci e vino.
Thanks for reading!
Freudian Slip, my band’s new album
It’s official: Nous Non Plus’s new album “Freudian Slip” will hit the streets on October 11, 2011 on Aeronaut Records.
It’s never easy to put out a new record and this one was no exception… but I’m thrilled with the results and very proud of the music I wrote this time around.
If you like this kinda thing, please check out the new site and please follow along on Twitter and Facebook (not that you need another feed to follow!).
I’ll be updating the Nous Non Plus site every week and once I can share some of the music, I’ll also write about the genesis and meanings of each track.
As for the title, some of you already know the role that Freud and language play and have played in my life… I’ll be writing more about that as well as the release date approaches.
My music means so much to me and there’s nothing more rewarding than knowing that people enjoy it. So please have a look at the new site and learn about the more than 10-year history of the band (there’s a lot of music there, btw). It’s been a wild and wonderful ride. No regrets, Coyote!
In other news…
I’ll be speaking on Tuscan wines and breaking bread with guests tomorrow night at Vino Vino in Austin.
Thanks for reading and listening…
Best fast food ever: delicious Vietnamese sandwiches at K Sandwiches (San Diego)
Tracie P and I had a wonderful week out here in “paradise” as the natives like to call it. A relaxing vacation of summer, sun, beach, good eating, and visiting with family and friends.
We’re about to board a plane back to Austin and I just had to share one more gem we discovered on this trip thanks to a few of the super nice doormen in Mama Judy’s building. On their recommendation we visited K Sandwiches in San Diego.
People, I am here to tell you: RUN DON’T WALK! The baguette was perfectly crusty on the outside and fluffy inside. I had the K Special (above and below), gently spread with pâté and stuffed with different types of cured ham and fresh cilantro, radish, carrot, and jalapeño.
My sandwich cost less than $3 and I didn’t even begin to peruse the many blended fruit and coffee drinks, not to mention the small grocery there.
At the peak of lunch, the place was packed the whole time we were there but the sandwiches were delivered with a celerity that old McDonald himself would envy.
Value, wholesome ingredients, superb service in a sparkling clean establishment? Could be the best fast food ever.
It’s been a great week in paradise but it’s time for us to go home with armadillo. As much as I love the place where I grew up, there’s nothing like waking up on a lazy Sunday in the Groover’s Paradise and rustling up some breakfast tacos for the most beautiful lady and mama-to-be I have ever seen…
Rebula and pulled pork quesadillas rock our world
One of the most delicious things we ate during our week in Southern California was the happy hour pulled pork quesadilla at Jaynes Gastropub… delicious in part because it was one of the dishes we served at our wedding reception there.
The dish paired wonderfully with a glass of Kabaj 2008 Rebula (Ribolla), vinified with skin contact. Very elegant expression of Ribolla, with gentle tannin and a great balance of savory and fruit flavors.
Slovenia, meet Southern California… brilliant…
We’ve had a fun week of eating here in San Diego and our adventures inspired a post on pairing red wine and fish over at the Houston Press, including some food shots from Jaynes.
- Whenever I am faced with a conundrum like the age-old question of whether or not it is imperative to pair white wine exclusively with fish, I look to antiquity. Indeed, in more cases than not, the ancients were much wiser and more well informed than we are.
And as I pore over (excuse the pun) centuries-old manuscripts and vellum-bound tomes, I discover that — lo and behold — the ancients did not have this problem because wine was predominantly white or rosé (at its darkest) in the days of yore…
Click here to read the rest of the post…
Thanks for reading and buon weekend, yall!
Yu Me Ya, the best little sake house this side of Osaka
Tracie P and I finally made it to Yu Me Ya in Encinitas, California. It’s extremely difficult to get into this small joint without a long wait — it’s that good, folks. But our good friend John Rikkers (who took the photo above) managed to make us a reservation (they only take reservations Tues.-Thurs. btw).
Man, after a day at the beach, there’s nothing like some good Japanese pub grub and cold beer!
Recommendation? RUN DON’T WAlK, people. Thanks again, John!
Natura morta and Pinot Grigio
In Italian, still life is called natura morta, literally, dead nature, in other words, inanimate nature.
Yesterday, Tracie P and I visited the San Diego home of friends and wine club clients Chrissa and Dan, where we took these photos.
After winning her battle with cancer, the couple decided to devote their lives to homesteading: they grow nearly all the produce that they consume and they slaughter and butcher all the meats that they consume (check out their site and educational program here).
All of the fruits in these photos were grown by them in their garden.
At a time when most of us urbanites place blind faith in the so-called “organic” choices at the specialized super markets, these folks — he a software designer, she an interior designer — have embraced the homesteading approach to self reliance (o that wonderful American ideal!) with a gusto and vibrancy that inspire me.
I brought over a bottle of 2009 Pinot Grigio Jesera by my friend Giampaolo Venica. Look at the wonderful ramato (copper) color of this true Pinot Grigio (a red grape, btw). We raised a glass of this delicious salty wine and remembered the grape growers in Collio (Friuli) whose vineyards were devastated over the weekend by a terrible hailstorm.
I also took a few shots in the garden — natura viva. I loved the red veined sorrel.
Sage.
Thanks for reading!
Do Bianchi 