Merry Christmas, everyone!

Thank you for all your support here on the blog in 2015.

Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas
and a Happy and Healthy New Year!

somewhere a wise rabbi once said:
“it is the dream of every Jewish songwriter
to write a great Christmas song…”

Download or stream the Parzen Family Singers 2015 Christmas Song here (FREE)!

“It always makes me very happy to learn that my wines helped someone to get laid,” said importer Terry Theise when I bumped into him at the excellent Ribelle in Boston a few weeks ago.

That’s Terry (above, left) with my friend Adam Japko (with whom I’ll be leading a Design and Wine trip to Italy next year).

Terry was responding to my telling him about how Tracie P and I drank and enjoyed so many of his “grower Champagnes” during our early courtship.

Even in Austin, Texas, where we lived at the time and where wines generally cost a little more than in other major markets across the U.S., we could afford them (they fall in the $40-60 price range in our state) and they were always delicious.

That evening in New England, he tasted Adam and me on a sekt rosé from Spätburgunder by Messmer (below). It’s what what Tracie P and I — now married with children — will be drinking on Christmas day with our family in southeast Texas.

And it’s also one of my top picks for sparkling wines for the holidays for the Houston Press in my HIPSTER’S GUIDE TO SPARKLING WINE [and getting laid] IN HOUSTON.

The list includes recommendations from some of our city’s leading wine professionals. You might be surprised by some of their picks (most of them recommended Italian wines!). But it also gives a good indication of the savvy that shapes the fine wine scene here.

Sparkle on you crazy diamonds and please don’t serve your bubbles in flutes! Happy holidays!

From the department of “I hate to be a bummer the week before Christmas but”…

The photo above was published yesterday on social media by one of Italy’s leading wine professionals in a post that generated scores of comments, mostly authored by high-profile wine tradespeople who condemned and repudiated its sentiment.

Brown-colored signs like this one are part of Italy’s officially sanctioned cultural heritage system. They are used for historically significant sites like churches or works of art — the so-called segnaletica monumentale.

In this sign, posted to mark the township of Pontoglio (in Brescia province, in the region of Lombardy, not far from Milan, roughly 7,000 inhabitants according to its Wiki), the panel at the bottom reads as follows (translation mine):

“A Western-culture village with deep-rooted Christian traditions. Anyone who does not intend to respect local culture and traditions is invited to leave.”

I’ll let the reader infer whatever meaning she/her likes from this text.

But it’s abundantly clear that non-Westerners and non-Christians are not welcome in Pontoglio.

It’s an expression of life in Italy that many Americans don’t notice when they visit wine country there. But sadly, however extreme the sentiment that inspired this particular sign, cultural insensitivity like this is not uncommon there, especially in the north.

Pontoglio literally means bridge on the river Oglio. The Oglio river is one of the boundaries of the Franciacorta DOCG. The Franciacorta consortium has been one of my clients in 2015 and I travel there often.

I wonder how the residents of Pontoglio would feel about a Jewish-American wine blogger visiting their town…

I plan to find out next year when I return to Franciacorta and will report back.

But in the meantime, I wanted to write a note about the Facebook post because I applaud the Italian wine community for its repudiation of the racial and religious profiling that is becoming increasingly common and bold in Italy today.

It’s one of the ways that the wine community can and does make the world a better place.

I stand in absolute solidarity with the two wine professionals who posted this on their Facebooks.

Sorry to be a bummer the week before Christmas (which I will be celebrating in southeast Texas with my family). But I felt it was important to share this here today.

It has been dubbed the “Sauvignon Connection” by the Italian news media (who use an English-language reference to the 1971 crime thriller starring Gene Hackman in their shorthand).

In September of 2015, 17 wineries were implicated in an Italian anti-adulteration investigation of the use of prohibited additives in the production of Sauvignon Blanc wines in northeastern Italy.

The “magic potions,” as they were called by investigators, posed no health risks, they said. But they allegedly gave the wines aromas considered atypical by many Italian wine trade observers and local growers and bottlers.

Among the wines confiscated for analysis by Italian officials, some have won top awards in international wine competitions and have received top ratings from leading Italian wine reviewers.

According to a statement last week by defense attorney Giuseppe Campeis who represents one of the central figures in the inquiry, “chemical” and “microbiological” analyses of sequestered wines have revealed no prohibited substances in the wine.

In reports circulated by Italian media outlets, Friulian investigator Antonio De Nicolo has countered that laboratory analysis of the wines is just one of the elements of his investigation of the alleged adulteration.

He has also claimed that efforts by the defense to delay the examination of the wines may have attenuated the presence of the alleged unauthorized additives.

The parties are scheduled to meet in court today. But trade observers note that the outcome of the inquiry may not be known for years.

Above: the Natisone river flows through the city of Cividale del Friuli not far from the office of the Consortium of Colli Orientali del Friuli Grape Growers and Winemakers (image via Wikipedia Creative Commons).

Dear Georgia,

Tomorrow is your fourth birthday. Happy birthday, sweet child!

You’ve asked for a “purple birthday party” because purple is your favorite color.

You love purple dresses and purple shoes. You also adore purple butterflies and your purple butterfly necklace.

And of course, your mommy is making you a purple birthday cake.

Your love of the color purple is just one of the many things that make you such a special person. Not red, not green, not yellow or blue but only purple will do for your special day.

Over the last twelve months, we’ve watched you grow from a toddler into a “big girl.” And as you’ve grown, you’ve started to talk more and more about the things that interest you. Astronauts, ballet, cooking, and music are just a handful of the things that you are curious about.

But the most wonderful thing we’ve watched over this last year is how much you care about the people in your life. The other day, you heard me cry out in pain after I stubbed my toe in the foyer of our home: you ran to me and said, “daddy, daddy, are you okay?” And you didn’t return to playing in the living room until you were convinced that I was alright.

You’re always looking out for your sister, Lila, whom you shower with affection. And the mothers of other children at your school often tell us how much their kids like you. I know that’s because you care about other people’s feelings, not to mention the fact that you are so much fun to play with.

Of all things about you that give us so much joy, it’s that empathy that makes me the most proud. Some day I hope to teach you about some of the things I love, like music, poetry, and art. But in the meantime, you’ve shown me that caring about the ones you love is the greatest gift you can give them. Not a day goes by that you don’t amaze me by what you teach me.

I wrote you a song this year for your birthday. It’s about how you get mad at me sometimes when I have to go away for work. As cross as you get, you always run to greet me and give me a hug when I come home from a business trip. It’s the best feeling in the world.

I love you sweet girl and I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday with you tomorrow.

Georgia Ann, please take my hand
And take a walk with me girl
Georgia Ann please understand
I want to talk with you girl

I am so glad you’re my Georgia Ann
I am so very glad to be your dad

I’ve been blogging today about the epistemological implications of “vitello tonnato and the mayonnaise conundrum” for my client Tenuta Carretta…

Above: vitello tonnato at Osteria More e Macine in La Morra (Piedmont) earlier this year. My bromance Giovanni always ribs me about how little I eat when he and I are on the road together. But his grin is always as wide as a mile when he sees me devour my vitello tonnato with gusto, religiously washing it down with some young Nebbiolo.

Although the dish is commonly made with mayonnaise today, most Italian gastronomic pundits maintain that true vitello tonnato should be mayonnaise-free. And they often point to Artusi’s mayonnaiseless recipe, first published toward the end of the nineteenth century, as the original recipe (La scienza in cucina e l’arte di mangiare bene [The Science of Cooking and the Art of Eating Well], 1891). This attribution is owed in no small part to the fact that Artusi’s cookery book became wildly popular toward by the end of his lifetime. And today, it’s rare not to find a dog-eared copy on the shelves in the homes of the typical Italian family who often uses it for everyday and festive cooking (I can attest to this from my own experience in Italian homes).

It’s important to note that Artusi also included a recipe for mayonnaise in his game-changing tome.

His recipe number “126” is for “salsa maionese” (“mayonnaise sauce”), which he recommends to accompany poached fish. (You can read an English-language translation here.)

So it’s clear that he was aware of the mayonnaise but did not include it in his recipe for vitello tonnato. This fact would seem to indicate, definitively, that the use of mayonnaise was introduced much later.

Click here to continue reading…

Above: expertly sliced Prosciutto di Parma and gnocco fritto at the excellent Osteria La Spiga in Seattle.

Even as Italian cuisine continues to reign supreme over contemporary culinary hegemony, a gastronomic tragedy unfolds across this great of land of the United States of America: poorly sliced prosciutto.

Sadly, it happens every day and all too often in this country: an eager and hopeful gourmet or an overly optimistic gourmand orders Prosciutto di Parma or Prosciutto di San Daniele at a charcuterie counter or in a fine-dining establishment only to have her or his porcine dreams shattered when the ham arrives too thinly sliced and practically liquefied in a big gooey blob of otherwise pink and white deliciousness.

As the great anglophone chef Lachlan Mackinnon-Patterson, one of the most obsessive prosciutto slicers I have ever met on the north American continent, has explained to me, it all comes down to the breadth of the beveled rotary blade employed in the act.

When the blade is too narrow, it applies too much friction to the cured flesh and as a result of the recalescence, the pig thigh begins to melt.

This phenomenon is exacerbated by the speed at which the blade rotates. Electric slicers, he told me, revolve so rapidly that they also increase the friction and temperature applied to the rosy goodness.

That’s why he and his ilk use manual slicers with specially beveled blades like those found on the famous hand-operated Berkel slicers.

Above: a great turnout for my Franciacorta tasting yesterday evening in Seattle, where wine culture seems to be rivaled only by coffee culture.

I was happy to discover that a Berkel slicer is used exclusively at the excellent Osteria La Spiga in Seattle, where I led a Franciacorta tasting yesterday evening for roughly 30 guests who were eager to taste and chat about the 11 wines I poured.

After the tasting, when I sat down for dinner with a few Seattle-based writers, the Prosciutto di Parma that arrived on our table was superbly sliced and melted in my mouth and not on the plate.

In my view of the epicurean world, prosciutto is a gold standard of food products and the expert handling thereof and therein is an acid test for a great Italian kitchen.

As the celebrated American artist Isaac Hayes once said (I can’t remember where), if a song doesn’t win you over with the first downbeat, it’s not a great one.

The same holds in the world of restaurateurship: if the opening dish isn’t perfectly executed, why bother moving on to the next?

I’m glad to report that I didn’t go prosciuttoless in Seattle, where I enjoyed a truly fantastic meal at La Spiga. I highly recommend it to you.

Heartfelt thanks to Ezra, Pietro, Cheryl, and the team at La Spiga for making my event so lovely. And similarly fervid thanks to Clive and Madeline for their camaraderie and companionship. It was a great night in Seattle.