Category Archives: nugellae

Debut of my new band THE GRAPES (and New England giant bluefin tuna)

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From the “man cannot live by wine alone” department…

Above: The Grapes, me on guitar and vox, Andrew Harvey drums, John Yelenosky guitar and vox, and Jon Erickson bass and vox. We’ll be playing our first gig in La Jolla on Thursday July 8.

We named our new country-rock band “The Grapes” after the legendary Liverpool pub where the Beatles used to hang out (Vinogirl can verify this).

We’ll be performing for the first time at one of my favorite sushi restaurants in the world, Zenbu in La Jolla on Thursday July 8.

Above: When I visited Zenbu the other night, owners Matt and Jackie Rimel (high school friends of mine) shared some lightly seared New England giant blue fin tuna belly with me. All of the fishes are fished individually by harpoon, Matt told me, so as not to harm dolphins. Matt is one of the most interesting dudes I know in the restaurant business and has hunted and fished and surfed all over the world. Zenbu is a unique sushi experience. Tracie P and me love it.

We’ll be bringing a little country music to the Pacific Coast with some tunes by Willie Nelson, Doug Sahm and the Tex Mex Trip, Gram Parsons (de rigueur), and some rockers like Tony Joe White’s Polk Salad Annie.

I hope you can join us. There might even be some interesting bottles of wine being opened that night!

In other news…

Did I mention that I’ve wanted to be a cowboy all my life? Found this photo while visiting mama Judy in La Jolla over the weekend (taken at Hebrew school in Chicago).

Happy birthday Giorgio Grai!

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Above: Legendary and most beloved Italian winemaker Giorgio Grai turns 80 today. Photo by Franco Ziliani.

From Friuli to Trentino, from Piedmont to Tuscany, and even as far south as Apulia, there is perhaps no one more respected and beloved by Italian winemakers than Giorgio Grai, who turns 80 years old today.

Check out what Mr. Franco Ziliani had to say about Giorgio in this post over at VinoWire today.

I only met Giorgio once, introduced to him by my good friend Charles Scicolone, many years ago in the library at the old Le Cirque in the Palace Hotel in Manhattan. Before introducing me, Charles, who seemingly knows everyone in the business, turned to Giorgio and said famously, “It’s always a pleasure.”

Texas Cajun Heritage Festival, Orange, Texas

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From the “if you could see through my eyes, if you could hear with my ears, if you could smell and taste with my nose and palate” department…

cajun fest

Uncle Tim (right) won the competition for best potato salad.

cajun fest

But Tim’s gumbo is always a winner in my book. Man, that stuff is TASTY!

cajun fest

Vincent is from San Diego like me, although he “ain’t been there in a ‘coon’s age,” he told me.

zydeco

These kids played like real pros. I guess it’s because it’s in their zydeco blood.

cajun fest

The dancing tent at the festival wasn’t exactly what you would call a “smoke-free” environment. The band was most definitely smokin’ too!

cajun fest

Word to the wise.

cajun fest

My Tracie P and I loved us some crawfish pistolettes.

pistolette

The pistolettes were stuffed with crawfish étouffée.

hoghide

Jaybo and his “Hoghide Cracklins” tossed in Cajun seasonings were awesome.

cracklins

Jaybo revealed his technique to us.

annette pernell

Annette is a “baker of all things delicious” and man, let me tell you, she ain’t lying.

annette pernell

Annette’s “Mississippi Mud Cake.”

singing cowboy

The evening ended with grilled steak dinner back at Rev. and Mrs. B’s house. Pepaw really seemed to enjoy my guitar pickin’.

Thanks for reading, ya’ll!

Scenes from our Mother’s Day

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Above, from left clockwise: Tracie P, sister-in-law Diane, brother Tad, mama Judy, niece Amalia, nephew Abner, brother Micah, and nephew Oscar.

We celebrated Mother’s Day this morning at the Colonial Inn in La Jolla were Tracie P and I got married.

Happy Mother’s Day ya’ll! :-)

A big tree and a little tree in Montalcino

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Above: Alessandro Bindocci (above) and his father are “on a roll,” wrote one of my favorite wine writers, Antonio Galloni in the April issue of The Wine Advocate published today. I took the photo of Ale in September 2008 at Tenuta il Poggione.

Alfonso does a series of posts on his blog about “big trees” and “little trees,” in other words, mothers and fathers and daughters and sons who work and live in the Italian wine industry. Alfonso’s worked in Italian wine for some time now and let’s just say that he’s seen a few big trees go and a few little trees sprout up.

One of the things that Tracie P and I thought and talked a lot about on our February trip to Italy was the relationships between mothers and fathers who make wine and their children. In some cases, the children aren’t interested in furthering the legacy of their parents, in other cases they are. Sometimes the conflict that arises thereof can lead to bitter quarrels. Other times there is a harmony — not always perfect but ultimately sturdy — that ensures the continuity of the parents’s legacy.

In March when I went back to Piedmont, I asked Enrico Rivetto’s father what he thought about his son’s newfangled blog. “I think he’s crazy,” he replied. “But, then again, my father thought I was crazy when I told him we should make a single-vineyard Barolo.” However reluctantly, the elder Rivetto supports his son’s blogging project.

My friend Alessandro Bindocci is a blogger as well. His father Fabrizio the winemaker at Tenuta Il Poggione (one of my favorite Brunello producers and my long-time friend), can’t even send an email. Alessandro can monitor vinfication using his blackberry.

I was thrilled to read Antonio Galloni’s glowing words for Fabrizio and Alessandro’s wines on Ale’s blog this morning.

As Tracie P and I talk about us making little trees ourselves, it’s a wonderful and warm thought to think that some day they may get to taste wines in the same traditional style Brunello that we love so much. By the time our putative children will be old enough to appreciate fine wine, the wines won’t be Fabrizio’s any longer. They’ll be Alessandro’s.

Mazel tov, Ale. Congrats on your superb scores from Galloni!

Long way home: one man’s Yquem is another’s strawberry milkshake

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From the “just for fun” department…

columbus texas

Above: Yesterday, I walked out onto the railroad bridge in Columbus, Texas and took this photo of the Colorado River. Man, what a beautiful day and what beautiful drive home to Austin from Houston. But, then again, any drive home is beautiful when Tracie P and her ragù alla bolognese await you at the end of the trip. :-)

Yesterday in Houston, after spending nearly 6 hours in a Starbucks, sitting in front of my Mac, going back and forth over the details of a big proposal with a client, I decided to take the “long way home.” About halfway through my journey, I stopped in Columbus, Texas, where a bend in the Colorado River and a junction between the old highways 90 and 71 come together.

sauternesWhen I stopped at an old-school carhop drive-in, the “Dairy Cone,” I couldn’t help but think of an evening I’ll never forget, when as the guest of wine maven Charles, I experienced one of the all-time aristocratically classic pairings of Western civilization, Sauternes and foie gras. In this case, 1976 Yquem and fattened goose liver at Gramercy Tavern in New York a few years ago.

I’m sure that Frank, who was also there that evening, would agree that a chili cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake on a warm spring day in a Texas small town on the banks of the muddy Colorado river are about as good as it gets. If Frank knew what a shitty week I’d had (will people just friggin’ chill out and realize it’s not all about them???!!!), I’m sure the doctor would agree that a drive through the country and some comfort food would do this body some good.

strawberry milkshake

Above: Sweetened milk with a few strawberries thrown in, chili con carne, American cheese, and bread made with hydrogenated oil. Probably about as fatty as foie gras and Sauternes. And, man, I don’t know why, but it just tastes so good.

Columbus is one of those wonderful “little pink houses” American towns and it has an impressive “historic sites” program. The railroad bridge in the photo above is one of two 1920s truss bridges, a handsome artifact of America’s industrialization and growth between the two world wars.

columbus texas

Above: I couldn’t find any historical information about the locally owned Dairy Cone but it looks to me like it was once a classic 1950s carhop.

Maybe it was just my mood, maybe it was the beautiful, warm spring day. Maybe it was the sound of the Union Pacific passing through behind the Dairy Cone… The pairing of chili cheeseburger and strawberry shake was divine. One man’s Yquem, as Howard would say, is another’s strawberry milkshake.

My advice? When life gives you lemons, take the long way home. My journey was rewarded by a ragù alla bolognese and a KILLER bottle of 2005 Spanna by Dessilani and a sweet kiss on the lips…

Italian old-school rope barometer

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Sent to me by Italian-university-days roomate and super good friend, Steve Muench (scroll down for his self-portrait), who lives not far from the dorm where we first met in Padua, with his wife Sita and their beautiful daughters. He snapped this on their recent vacation in Umbria.

@Steve how long have we known each other? twenty-some odd years now? :-)

translation

Rope Barometer

Dry Rope
Good Weather

Wet Rope
Rain

Rigid Rope
Cold

Invisible Rope
Fog

Flapping Rope
Wind

My favorite is “invisible rope [=] fog.” If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!

I hope everyone is having a relaxing Saturday like me and my Tracie P! :-)

Recipe: Giovanna’s Spinach Casserole (and I know my chickens)

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Many years ago, I worked as an editor at an Italian food magazine where I must have translated thousands of recipes. I had fun this morning translating Giovanna’s recipe below.

Giovanna’s Spinach Casserole

An old, simple, and tasty recipe.

Wash the spinach well and then wilt in a pan with a pinch of salt. Squeeze and then use a sieve to purge the spinach of its water. Sauté in a pan with a little bit of butter.

Make a béchamel and seasons with salt and pepper to taste and a dash of nutmeg. Fold the béchamel into the spinach and add freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano, 2 whole eggs, and 1 egg yolk. Whisk the remaining egg white until it forms peaks and then carefully fold it into the spinach mixture.

Grease a loaf pan (or a bundt cake pan) with butter and then coat with a thin layer of flour before transferring the spinach mixture to the pan. Heat the oven to 375°, arrange the pan in a bain-marie and bake for 40-45 minutes. Remove the loaf from the oven and let it cool for a few minutes before turning it out on to a serving platter.

Serve with a fondue, with mushrooms, or chicken livers.

*****

Tracie P’s comment reminded me that I had neglected to post about Giovanna’s rooster and chickens!

franco ziliani

There’s a wonderful expression in Italian, a phrase you might hear a mother or a grandmother utter when she can predict a child’s desire or request: conosoco i miei polli (I know my chickens). If you ever get to stay in an Italian farmhouse estate like Giovanna’s, you’ll notice that the chickens (like Giovanna’s) have very distinct and often peculiar preferences about their daily routine and pecking order, as it were. Hence the familiar, affectionate expression…

Thanks again, Giovanna, for sharing your recipe!

And for my fan of the “burning disappointment,” please don’t despair! Next on deck: Beppe Rinaldi on natural yeast… Stay tuned!

My date with the city (of Milan)

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After a week of working myself to the bone in Asti and Langa, and a successful and happy epilogue to Barbera Meeting 2010 (and all the many blogilicious waves we surfed there), my little gift to myself was an afternoon of book shopping and strolling in Milan on a beautiful, crisp but not too chilly afternoon. That’s Milan’s famous gothic cathedral, the Duomo of Milan, above.

A visit to the original Feltrinelli book shop on Via Manzoni revealed a Massimo Montarari (Italian food historian) title that was missing from my collection. And a visit to one of the flagship Feltrinelli megastores in the Galleria (above) delivered the toponymic dictionary I’d been looking for.

When you exit the subway at the Duomo station, the stairs are rigged with midi triggers that play acoustic piano samples. As you walk up the stairs, if you land on each “white key” step, you play the C major scale. The eerily beautiful cacophony created by commuters and tourists reminded me of an angular Antonioni film score.

My Milan will always be a black and white movie from the 1960s but Milan is also the capital of haute couture and high design. I love the glamour and color of Milanese window shopping.

But the best part was dinner of Piave cheese, perfectly sliced Lombard bresaola (above), and Friulian Cabernet Franc in the home of my super good friends Stefano (from Treviso, Veneto) and Anna (from Ischia, Campania). None of us could stop marveling at the wonderful, uncanny counterpoints and parallels of life. This adoptive padovano has been away from his adoptive ischitana for way too long. Thank goodness the next stop is Austin, Texas, U.S. of A.