Category Archives: de musica

Nous Non Plus in LA, SF, Germany, and revelations from Montalcino

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Above: Nous Non Plus performed this spring in Slovenia. That’s me stage left (on the right). Click here to read an interview with the band published in this week’s H Magazine.

Nous Non Plus will be performing this week in Los Angeles (Friday night) and San Francisco (Saturday noon, free show). Click on cities for info. We also learned that we will be performing at a Green Party event in Frankfurt an der Oder (about an hour outside Berlin) on Saturday, August 30.

In other news…

Il Sole 24 Ore reported yesterday that it was the discovery of ghost vineyards that led to the current controversy in Brunello. According to the story, winemakers were releasing more wine than their vineyards could produce. The current investigation began not because the Italian treasury department suspected winemakers of adulteration but rather because wineries allegedly over-reported surface area “under vine” or “planted to grape,” as they say in the wine world. It’s possible that the wineries were reporting false information because they were applying for bank loans using their vineyards as collateral.

Click here to read about it in VinoWire.

Il Sole 24 Ore (literally, “The Sun 24 Hours [a Day]” or “Sun Around the Clock”) is Italy’s most highly regarded business newspaper. It’s Italy’s counterpart to The Wall Street Journal.

Slovenia Day 2: forbidden mussels, winemaker not required

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The name and location of the tavern where Nous Non Plus ate dinner on April 9, 2008 cannot be revealed: suffice it to say that the band’s metallic-gray van somehow found its way to a small village in the hills of Brda.

On the menu that night: a tide of scampi (Nephrops norvegicus, Norwegian lobster, adored by Céline Dijon aka Verena Wiesendanger, left) and forbidden date mussels (Lithophaga lithophaga, a long and narrow rock-boring mussel that uses an acidic secretion to chisel its way into the reefs of the northern Adriatic). The fishing of date mussels, I’m sorry to say, has been prohibited in Europe since 1992 because the reef has to be broken in order to extract the mollusk (in Italy, the sale of date mussels was outlawed in 1998). But in Slovenia (an EU country, btw), it seems delicacy trumps delinquency (I’ve heard that they’re easy to find in Apulia and other parts of Adriatic Italy as well).

Above: the delicious date mussels were cooked in white wine and garlic. They didn’t serve Aleš’ wine but the house Ribolla (Rebula) made for an excellent pairing.

Above: The scampi seemed to dance on this mixed seafood platter. Céline goes crazy for scampi. I’ve never seen her eat so much!

Earlier in the day (and frankly, the day didn’t start so early since we had stayed up all night long playing Beatles songs camp-fire style after NNP played two sets at the winery), Aleš had fulfilled his promise to explain the secret behind Movia’s Lunar, a wine he makes — as I discovered — from the free-run juice of unpressed, whole bunches of Ribolla using a unique system for carbonic maceration. He calls it Lunar because he follows the cycle of the moon for its production.

“Before man made a job for himself as a winemaker,” said Aleš, “the grape made the wine itself.” The grape berry “has a natural valve at its top,” he explained. When a grape drops to the ground, the naturally occurring yeasts on its skin migrate into the pulp and begin to ferment its juice. The valve at the top of the berry, “lets the carbon dioxide out without letting any oxygen in.”

So, when Aleš decided he wanted to make a wine with no intervention whatsoever, he used the grape as a model: he designed a barrel with a hole proportionate to the size of the aperture at the top of a grape berry. To plug the hole, he created a spring-loaded cap that releases the CO2 when pressure builds within the vessel without allowing any oxygen to enter. In essence, he built a large grape berry. He fills the “berry” with whole bunches of grapes and then seals it and lets nature do her work.

Above: Aleš always decants Lunar because it is unfiltered and contains a great deal of sediment.

He then concocted an elaborate system of tubes that allow him to draw off the wine without letting it come into contact with oxygen. But he also had to calculate “where” the wine would be in the barrel, since some of the solids fall to the bottom during fermentation while the skins float to the top. In a diagram he showed me, the “layer” of wine lies somewhere in the middle of the vessel. The wine is siphoned off into a larger stainless steel vessel from which he can then bottle the unfiltered wine.

Lunar isn’t cheap but it is one of those life-changing wines. When you taste it for the first time, you immediately experience its purity and integrity (and by integrity, I mean the etymological sense of the word, its wholeness, its untouchedness, from the Latin in- + tangere, to touch). Later in the trip, Aleš dubbed NNP the first “bio-dynamic” band: it was great to see my bandmates get turned on and tuned in to natural wine.

Required reading…

There’s a great article about Slovenian wine and Movia in the current issue of Fine Wine by
Bruce Schoenfeld. (Scroll down to the bottom of the page where you can download a PDF’d version.)

I’ve become a fan of Bruce’ writing. I recently came across this passage in a piece he wrote in praise of a Patagonian Pinot Noir (which, he pointed out, doesn’t try to imitate Burgundy):

“I’m not sure why, but I hold Pinot Noir to a higher standard than I do other grapes. I come across far too many Pinots made in slavish imitation of Burgundy. These wines aren’t bad, just uninteresting. I mean, I love the Beatles’ ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,’ but I don’t ever need to hear Elton John sing his version again.”

I couldn’t agree more: I love Elton John but his version of LSD just doesn’t do it for me nearly the same way the Beatles’ does.

Slovenia Day 1: Movia (my barrique epiphany)

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Just added…

Taste and chat at Jaynes: Thursday I’ll be pouring wine all night at Jaynes Gastropub in University Hts. (San Diego). Please stop by. Hopefully Chef Daniel will be serving his Alaskan halibut special…

Above: Aleš Kristančič draws off a barrel sample of his 2005 Pinot Noir. Note the size of the barrels. Aleš ages his wine exclusively in barrique.

My once immovable feelings about barrique (small, new oak barrels — French or Slavonian — used for aging wine) began to change last year when I read this article by Eric Asimov. With Socratic nuance, Eric pointed out that “Oaky may be bad, but oak is good.” Later that month, in response to a post I did on Luigi Veronelli and Italy’s historic relationship to new oak aging of wine, Eric authored a post in which he cast the use of barrique in judicious perspective. (If the wine blogosphere were a Renaissance court, Eric would be its wise and just prince: he brings an even-handed tone to a world prone to rants and extreme points of view. He was recently nominated for the Veronelli Prize for “best food and wine writing in a foreign language.”)

When my band Nous Non Plus arrived at the Movia winery in Brda, Slovenia on Monday, April 7, 2008, where we played a private party that evening, I had an epiphany of sorts: I discovered — to my surprise — that my friend Aleš Kristančič, whose wines I love and have enjoyed on many occasions, ages all of his wines in barrique.

Frankly, I was blown away. My friend and collaborator Franco Ziliani (known for his tell-like-it-is style) often points out that rules are rules: I have to confess that I had never detected oakyness in Aleš’ wines and Aleš gave me a proper schooling in situ as to how new oak can be used with the context of radically natural and undeniably biodynamic wines like his own. Ignoscetis mihi: as Franco says, if you taste something blind and you like it, you have to admit it.

Above: Aleš rocks out with his Soviet-era Tajfun bass (see headstock below). He played bass in the Yugoslav military band. Aleš became a fan of Nous Non Plus after he saw our Mobitel commercial and he invited the band to play a gig at his winery and later that week in Ljubljana.

“Oak is like the sheets of a bed,” said Aleš using a politically incorrect but apt simile, “when you break up with a girlfriend, you need to throw away the sheets and put new ones on the bed.” In his view, the yeasts and bacteria that grow on old oak barrels (and in particular, large oak barrels) can give unwanted flavors to the wine (other winemakers would argue that those flavors are elements in terroir expression).

One important element is the toasting of the oak. Aleš uses only gently toasted oak: “the staves are toasted by the cooper to shape the barrel,” he said, “not to give flavor to the wine.” (Many modern-style winemakers use heavily toasted oak to impart vanilla, chocolate, and tobacco and similar notes to their wines.)

But, most important, he explained, is the amount of time the wine spends in cask. “Many winemakers want to accelerate the aging process by using new oak for aging,” he said. “I’m not using the oak to soften the tannin. I am using it to oxygenate the wine slowly and gently.” (The pores in the new wood allow small amounts of oxygen to come into contact with the wine.) Where other producers age for 12 or even 18 months, Aleš often ages for up to 5 years in cask before bottling.

The other important element, he told me, is that he adds no sulfur whatsoever to his wine. “Even fine winemakers add very small amounts of sulfur in order to stabilize the wine more quickly. I don’t need to do that: I let time stabilize my wines. I’m not in a hurry,” Aleš said. The addition of sulfur, he explained, can cause the oak to impart some of its flavor to the wine.

Alder Yarrow just did a great post on Slovenia and Movia’s current releases over at his excellent blog Vinography.

I’ll be posting more on my stay and our shows in Slovenia and the wines we tasted and food we ate over the next few weeks. Look for my post on Movia’s Lunar: during my stay, Aleš revealed the secret of this 100% Ribolla Gialla that he makes from the free-run juice of whole bunches. He essentially fills a barrel with the grapes — stems and all — and lets the wine make itself. But there’s a trick to it: Aleš learned it all from a grape…

Slovenia is not as as developed as neighboring Friuli and its beauty is literally breath-taking. This shot — believe it or not — was taken from the toilet at the Movia guest house.

Back in the studio: good music, bad food, and some kick-ass wine

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Just added: Nous Non Plus will be performing at Bordello in downtown Los Angeles on Friday, June 20 with fellow French rockers Tour de France. June 21, daytime show at the the Alliance Française in San Francisco (details to follow).

Nous Non Plus recently headed back into the studio to finish work on our upcoming release (working title, “Nous Non Plus: Deux,” fall 2008). Engineer and wine lover Bryan Cook manned the dials at Kingsize Studio Sound Labs in Eagle Rock, CA (check out the studio’s site… it’s kinda cool).

When you’re in the studio, you’re working hard (usually 10-12 hour days) and you don’t really have a lot of great food options (the section of Eagle Rock where we recorded looked like a scene out of the Lethal Weapon franchise). We did make some groovy music and we managed to drink well.

Tradition dictates that food writing should be positive… that we should write only about good food. But in the world of rock ‘n’ roll, even when the music is great, the food usually sucks.

Here’s a little photo essay of our session…

Bad: reheated Mexican food.

Bad: flavorless Thai food… hey, you know, sometimes you have to eat cause you’re hungry!

Good… actually, very good: 32-channel Neve 8068. Man, that desk sounds warm and rich…

Good: early 1980s Fender Super Reverb and Fender Champ (I believe they were post-1982 since that was the year that Fender started making them again). I also played through the Supro behind the Champ. When you turn those little amps up to 10 they sound fantastic.

Fun: the guitar selection at Kingsize is colorful… among other axes employed on this record, the Gretsch G1626 Synchromatic Silver Sparkle Jet with f-hole (second from right) sounded awesome on some of the more rocking numbers. It was made for only a few years and now is almost impossible to find. The main guitar I played was my custom John Carruthers “Johnny Rivers” model telecaster. Also played a beautiful vintage Fender Jazzmaster with tremolo.

Excellent: 1982 Salomon library selection Riesling was off-the-charts delicious.

Nice performance: Jean-Luc Retard (aka Dan, bass, vox) opens a bottle of one of NNP’s officially favorite wines, Movia Puro Rosé. In the photo, Dan is disgorging the sediment from the bottle in a sink full of water (the plates and cups on the bottom served as a stopper for the drain; Kingsize is a great studio but the plumbing is, let’s say, creative).

Hits the spot: after the wine is disgorged, it’s totally clear.

Good company, bad food: from left, our friend Joachim Cooder, Céline, Bryan, and Jean-Luc and I “grind out” on some mediocre Mediterranean.

Magazine sitings and writings

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My friend Lawrence Osborne gave me a shout out in the current issue of Men’s Vogue (June/July 2008), in an article about a wine that means a lot to me: Lini Lambrusco. I can’t say that I mind being called “a wine connoisseur and Italian scholar extraordinaire” by the Accidental Connoisseur himself.

Alicia Lini and I first met in February of 2007 when I traveled to Italy in search of metodo classico or méthode champenoise Lambrusco (i.e., double-fermented in bottle). She and I became good friends and it’s great to see her (with her cover girl looks) and her wines get the attention they deserve.

I also made an appearance in the Spring issue of Gastronomica with a piece on the history of pasta, Risorgimento Italy, and pasta’s role in the Italian national identity.

Ed-in-chief Darra Goldstein had asked me to write a review of a CD devoted to pasta-inspired music and she generously let me turn the piece into short essay.

In case you can’t find a copy of the mag at your local newsstand, I made a PDF (downloadable here).

I may not be a rock star…

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but sometimes I get to hang out with rock stars.

Megan Hickey aka The Last Town Chorus the other night at the Bellyup Tavern in Solana Beach, CA. Megan’s unique over-driven, space-echoed lap steel tone is mesmerizing.

Megan Hickey aka The Last Town Chorus and her music were introduced to me a few years ago by our mutual friend (and her manager) Michael Nieves. I used to perform with her in Manhattan and Brooklyn and did some recording with her for her current album, Wire Waltz.

Megan’s a true original: she plays over-driven lap steel, dripping in sexy psychedelic space echo, and her vocal melodies meander beautifully and often hauntingly over rootsy, edgy countrified chord changes.

She gave me a shout out the other night during her excellent show at the Bellyup Tavern in Solana Beach, CA (my favorite venue to see live music in the San Diego area, a great-sounding wood-paneled room replete with old-school surfer paraphernalia). She’s touring solo, accompanied by an Ipod mix. It was a trip to hear myself play from the audience!

Besides rocking it, she infuses her show with irresistible personality and humor: she likes to be introduced as “the Grammy-award-wanting The Last Town Chorus.”

If you happen to be reading from the west coast, she’s coming soon to a town near you.

Megan is one of the nicest folks I’ve met in the business. I had a blast recording with her for her current release, Wire Waltz. I may not be a rock star but…

Italy Day 7: Words cannot describe the way I feel…

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…about La Dama Bianca in Duino near Trieste.

Scallops on the shell were divine. Note how they chef left the scallop’s tasty “foot” attached.

On Monday, April 7, Céline (vox aka Verena Wiesendanger), Bonnie (vox, violin aka Emily Welsch), and Jean-Luc (vox, bass aka Dan Crane) arrived at the Venice airport and we headed north to Duino, a little lost-in-time village just south of Trieste along the Adriatic coast. We had a reservation for dinner and an over-night stay at what is simply one of the most delightful hotel/restaurants I have ever had the pleasure to experience.

La Dama Bianca (The White Lady) is a family-owned seafood restaurant with just five single rooms on the second floor: the father does the fishing, the mother does the cooking, and the son serves as sommelier (and his list is a wonderful romp through Carso, Collio, and Colli Orientali).

Lost in time: the Dama Bianca has remained seemingly unchanged since the 1960s, as has the village of Duino. The rooms, each with a sea-view terrace, were spartan but immaculately clean and after six days of traveling and wine fairs, the gentle rhythm of the tide against the breakwater lulled me to sleep like a baby.

One of the chef’s signatures was the combination of two types of seafood in every dish, like these sautéed shrimp served with baby sea scallops.

When I told Dario that we wanted to drink a Vodopivec Vitovska with our our main course — scorfano (scorpion fish) in cartoccio (en papillote or in parchment paper) — he produced no less than four vintages. On his recommendation, we drank the 2003, which was beautiful, oxidized, with fruit notes as golden as the color of the wine (below).

2003 Vodopivec Vitovska.

It was dusk when we arrived at the small breakwater and harbor. A gentleman was fishing and enjoying the “golden hour.”

An auto-timer of Jean-Luc, Bonnie, Céline, and me (Calvino di Maggio, detto Cal d’Hommage).

Albergo Dama Bianca
Frazione Duino, 61/C
34011 Duino Aurisina (TS)
040 208137

Stay tuned for Slovenia Day 1!

Sail On or Chips and Salsa

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Editor’s note: The events and characters depicted in this photoplay are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

Above: 7:19 p.m. chips and salsa at Bahia Don Bravo taco shop in Bird Rock, La Jolla.

Sail on down the line
About half a mile or so
And I don’t really wanna know ah
Where you’re going

Maybe once or twice you see
Time after time I tried
Hold on to what we got
But now you’re going

And I don’t mind
About the things you’re gonna say
Lord, I gave all my money and my time
I know it’s a shame
But I’m giving you back your name
Guess I’ll be on my way
I won’t be back to stay
I guess I’ll move along
I’m looking for a good time

Sail on down the line
Ain’t it funny how the time can go
All my friends say they told me so
But it doesn’t matter
It was plain to see
That a small town boy like me
Just I wasn’t your cup of tea
I was wishful thinking

I gave you my heart
And I tried to make you happy
And you gave me nothing in return
You know it ain’t so hard to say
Would you please just go away

I’ve thrown away the blues
I’m tired of being used
I want everyone to know
I’m looking for a good time
Good time
Sail on honey
Good times never felt so good
Sail on honey
Good times never felt so good
Sail on sugar
Good times never felt so good
Sail on

— Commodores

Italy Days 5 and 6: South Tyrol

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Above: no, those ain’t no matzoh balls… they’re canderli at Santlhof, a rustic tavern that shot immediately to the top of my all-time great restaurant experiences. Canederli or knödel are speck-filled bread dumplings served in broth, a classic South Tyrolean first course.

On Saturday April 5, five days in to my trip, I spent the morning and better part of the afternoon tasting at Vinitaly. The highlight that day was Il Poggione, a traditional-style producer of Brunello, who has emerged unscathed by the recent Brunello controversy. One of the most fascinating insights that winemaker Fabrizio Bindocci shared with me was his belief that mandatory dry farming is one of the appellation’s biggest problems. “If producers in the lower-lying [and consequently warmer] areas of the appellation were allowed to irrigate in 2003,” said Fabrizio, “they wouldn’t have had as many problems dealing with warm temperatures in summer.” If used judiciously, he explained, “irrigation could be a positive change for Brunello.” He also noted that many growers have vines that “are too young” and as a result, the roots can’t find the water table when the weather is excessively warm. While many have proposed that Brunello producers be allowed to use grape varieties other than Sangiovese (a change vehemently opposed by Fabrizio), irrigation, he said, could help to resolve some of the appellation’s current problems.

Above: Speck at Santlhof. Speck is a smoked prosciutto, a classic of German-speaking Italy. It’s spicier than its cousins in San Daniele in Friuli and Parma in Emilia and it pairs beautifully with the fresh white wines they make up there. (Look for an upcoming post on my visit to a San Daniele prosciutto producer.)

I had been invited to an industry party to be held Sunday night at the Hofstätter winery in Tramin (Termeno, in Italian). Late Saturday afternoon, I headed out of Verona toward the alps and checked into a hotel that I highly recommend — a little 3-star called Tirolerhof, where the rooms were beautiful, clean, and reasonably priced, and the Teutonic breakfast spread was worthy of a 5-star hotel in Vienna (the hotel also has a covered, heated pool).

Above: my main course at Santlhof was eggs, bacon, and potatoes accompanied by owner Georg Mayr’s estate-grown and vinified Schiava.

After a simple dinner and a much needed restful night, I awoke to a panorama “alive with the sound of music”: the stunning beauty of South Tyrol — a verdant, vine-covered Alpine valley — sings a soothing melody, a balm that helped to allay the humdrum din of Verona and the wine fair still ringing in my head.

On the recommendation of winemaker Martin Hofstätter, I headed to the nearby Santlhof, a rustic tavern and favorite Sunday biker stop where I enjoyed a leisurely, delicious, four-hour Sunday lunch, complete with wines that simpatico owner Georg Mayr grows and vinifies on his estate (which dates back to the 16th century). His white — a blend of Chardonnay, Kerner, and Traminer — was killer, totally natural in style, fresh and clean. I could definitely get used to the sound of this music.

Above: shredded cabbage salad side at Santlhof.

Above: simpatico owner Georg Mayr takes a load off after a slamming Sunday.

The above view is with my back to the tavern. You can see the flat vine-covered valley in the distance. The vines you see before you are Georg’s whites (the red lie behind the restaurant at a slightly higher altitude). His chickens forage among the rows.

Italy Day 4: finalmente, Vini Veri!

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Above: tasters nap in the springtime sun outside Villa Boschi where the Vini Veri tasting was held again this year. I don’t know why but my day at Vini Veri made me think of the northern Italian folk song “L’uva fogarina”: “Quant’è bella l’uva fogarina, quant’è bello saperla vendemmiar!” (The Fogarina grape is so good! So good for the pickin’!). See below…

Let’s face it: we all go to Vinitaly every year because we have to: by the second day of the massive trade and consumer fair, the pavilions are a slosh of deal-making, true and otherwise would-be wine professionals, the occasional parasitic wine writer, and a sea of reveling imbibers who show up to get their drink on. Every year, the same parties, the same dinners, the same 45-minute back-and-forth drive from Verona because who can afford a $700-a-night room downtown? Well, I can’t.

But a breath of fresh air awaits those true lovers of real wine who attend the increasing number of satellite, alternative fairs. My favorite is the Vini Veri tasting, held at the Villa Boschi in the heart of the Veronese heartland (Isola della Scala township).

Above: I was captivated by Dario Princic’s whites, all of them macerated with skin contact, like this Pinot Grigio (in the photo). Few realize that Pinot Grigio is a red grape — a light red, but red nonetheless. It was the Santa Margherita white Pinot Grigio craze (which began more than 25 years ago) that made Pinot Grigio a white grape. Princic’s wines are fantastic.

Highlights:

Dario Princic (Friuli, see above, his Tocai was among the best I’ve ever tasted), Vodopivec (Friuli, I tasted some aged Vodopivec Vitovska later on in the trip and will report in an upcoming post), Coste Piane (Veneto, Prosecco aged sur lies and fermented using metodo classico – double-fermented in bottle – in magnum, freakin’ killer), Monte dall’Ora (Veneto, great Valpolicella and his top Amarone is off-the-charts good, need to taste with Brooklynguy) and, of course, Paolo Bea (the inimitable producer of Sagrantino).

But that’s not to exclude so many awesome producers who make natural, real wines: Cappellano, Trinchero, Rinaldi (Giuseppe), Cos, just to name a few (Maria Teresa Mascarello was not at Vini Veri this year).

Above: Gianpiero Bea of Paolo Bea. Gianpiero is one of the founders of Vini Veri.

Dario Princic told me that there is a movement within Vini Veri to reunite with the splinter group Vinatur and the Triple A tasting next year: the idea is that of organizing a fair at the Vicenza fair grounds with 200-250 producers, a fair that “could truly rival Vinitaly,” Dario said.

When I asked Gianpiero Bea about this, he didn’t seem too pleased.

Above: it was great to see my old friends Steve and Sita, high-school sweethearts (they met on an exchange program in Spain), married to this day, with two beautiful daughters. Sita’s friend Giovanni Baschieri got me my first gig in Padua way back in 1987!

My college roommate (from my first year at the Università di Padova) Steve Muench (above left) and his wife Sita Saviolo (above center) drove down from Padua to taste with me. I saw them a few times on this trip and they even made it up to Ljubljana to see Nous Non Plus perform there.

I can’t recommend Vini Veri enough: if you have the chance next year, be sure to make it down there. To me Vini Veri represents a mix of all the best things about Italy: real wine, real people… winemaking as ideology, winemaking that expresses place… heavily-left-leaning politics and homegrown, grassroots organizing… Vini Veri is a wine fair that even Pier Paolo Pasolini would be proud of (especially in the light of his Friulian origins, since so many great Friulian producers present their wines there). Does anyone remember Poesie a Casarsa?

Even if you don’t understand Italian (or Friulian dialect), check out the images in this short on the collection of poetry that won Pasolini fame at an early age:

There are many versions of L’uva fogarina on YouTube but I liked this one the best. Most believe the Fogarina grape to be a type of Lambrusco found near the town of Gualtieri in Emilia. Something about that beautiful spring day in the middle of the fields made me think of L’uva fogarina. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination…