The oil spill

Above: Facing east, looking out onto Galveston Bay at sunset on the Gulf of Mexico the other evening, in Kemah, Texas (pronounced KEE-mah). The Louisiana border is but a two-hour drive from there.

Did anyone hear the interview with Acy Cooper, vice president of the Louisiana Shrimp Association yesterday afternoon on NPR? When Tracie P and I finally got to sit down for dinner last night, we talked about the piece we both had heard.

    [Melissa] BLOCK: You know, I’m curious, yesterday, we heard a term come out of the mouth of the chairman of BP, who talked about doing better by the small people who were affected by the spill. I wonder if you heard that, and what you made of that term, small people.

    Mr. COOPER: Yeah, I was offended. We’re not small people. We are a lot bigger than they can actually imagine. We don’t need help around here. No, we’re not small. We do – we make our living on our own. We’re hardworking people. Where he get terminology of small is very offending to us. We’re all Americans and we’re not small.

Please listen to the story (you can also read the transcript there). The man in the interview talks like a lot of the folks I’ve met since I moved down to Texas. Folks I’ve met in Louisiana and in East Texas where Tracie P grew up.

I took the above photo the other day when I was down in Kemah, Texas, on the Gulf, doing a restaurant review for one of the blogs I author. The restaurant was a seafood restaurant, of course. So far, said the nice folks I met down there, the only thing that they can’t get this summer is oysters. But that’ll probably change, they said.

Please listen to the interview. And please keep all those folks in your hearts and your thoughts.

Good Italian food and wine grow in Brooklyn

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Above: The Bisci Verdicchio di Matelica was just one of the killer wines poured for me and BrooklynGuy by Albano Ballerini at his excellent restaurant Aliseo Osteria del Borgo in Brooklyn. Aliseo doesn’t really have a website (although it does have a FB). Trust me: just go there and ask Albano to bring you food and wine.

May is the most beautiful month in Brooklyn. When I visited with Tracie P, her gorgeous blue eyes sparkled in the springtime sunshine of Brooklyn Heights by the waterfront. And when I returned — alas, alone this time during my work week — for dinner with BrooklynGuy and Brooklyn Lady, I discovered that the sunny days of May and its temperate nights are ideal for fine wine and dining in this borough so often neglected by the gastronomically minded.

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Above: This Colline Pescaresi 2008 Pecorino by Ciavolich was awesome. Originally from the Marches, owner Albano (an ex-fashion photographer) offers his patrons a tidy but impressive list of wines from the central Adriatic coast of Italy — probably the best representation of the Marches and Abruzzo I’ve seen.

I must confess that I loved everything about Albano Ballerini’s Aliseo Osteria del Borgo: the décor, the vibe, the food, and the excellent wine list. I can see why it’s become one of BrooklynGuy’s favorite haunts. Albano and chef Gustavo Fernandez seem to operate in perfect synchronicity and symphony.

brooklyn

Above: Handmade spaghetti alla chitarra tossed with herbs and fresh pistachios were off-the-charts good.

Who knows how many lives Albano has lived? He’s a real character (un vero personaggio) and an ex-fashion photographer who loves (and knows) great food and wine. When you enter his restaurant, you enter his world, you enter his stories, and you are bound (quite literally) to eat and drink well.

brooklyn

Above: Even something as simple as Gustavo’s grilled steak and pork loin was prepared and presented with such care and poetry that the experience (very reasonably priced) went from A to A+.

When I moved to Brooklyn back in 1997, there was no Al di là, Convivio, or Franny’s (these names will not be unfamiliar to anyone who watched Brooklyn’s culinary street cred grow in the late 90s and early 00s). Back then there was just Cucina on 5th Ave. (remember that joint?).

Albano is an amazing and ambitious gourmand and gourmet and a great host. His tidy wine list is probably the most interesting gathering of central Adriatic wines in this country.

brooklyn

Above: This 50% Montepulciano and 50% Merlot from the 2001 vintage was killer (and I do not use that term lightly where Merlot is concerned!). I’d heard of Serenelli’s wines but had never tasted them. I’d really love to taste the winery’s Rosso Conero (pronounced KOH-neh-roh btw).

Thanks again, BrooklynGuy and BrooklynLady, for hipping me to this excellent dining destination. Great stuff. Highly recommended.

Aliseo Osteria del Borgo
(no website)
665 Vanderbilt Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11238-3831
(718) 783-3400

osteria del borgo

Better than the Da Vinci Code: more Santorini sleuthing!

Posting in a hurry today but just had to get this up on the blog. After I posted the other day debunking the myth that Italian Vin Santo and Greek Vinsanto are related in any other way beyond a homonymical coincidence, the chief enologist at Boutari (whose social media project is managed by me), Yannis Voyatzis, express-mailed me a wonderful volume on the wines of Santorini, which (literally) just arrived. In it, I found this wonderful reproduction of a map, printed in 1576 by a Venetian printer. As you can see above and in the detail below, in late 16th-century Venice, the Venetian name of the island Santorini was already well-established.

But more importantly, you can see that the name Santo Erini was still prevalent.

I believe that this supports my theory that the Greek appellation name Vinsanto comes from Vin[o di] Santo[erini].

I’ll have a great deal to say about this in an upcoming post. Early Venetian printing was one of the subjects of my doctoral thesis and I think I’ll have some interesting insights for the philologically inclined among us.

I’m super slammed with work today but just had to share this find asap.

Is this better than the Da Vinci Code OR WHAT???!!!! :-)

Natural wine matters

Above: The wines produced in the Sierra Foothills of California by Hank Beckmeyer and his wife Caroline are among those recommended by Eric in his blog post yesterday on Natural Wine. (I’m offering two bottlings by Hank in my wine club six-pack this month.)

With all the trimmings of a lustful post-modernist dialectic on the semiotic implications of “the other” intrinsically expressed through the exile of “self” in the production of wine, the debate over what is and what is not Natural Wine (with a capital N word) is gearing up like a Hollywood summer box office block buster.

Joking aside, the Solomon of wine blogging, Eric, has opened the flood gates with a torrent of strength equal to a Texas summer flash flood.

We’re all gearing up for Cory’s 32 Days of Natural wines, which begins in a few days (I’ll be posting, as will Jaynes Gastropub, as will Hank above, and a lot of other friends of mine).

In the meantime, I can’t recommend Lou’s posts strongly enough: while Eric is our Solomon, Lou is our Rebi Akiva.

Why I love Italian wine in flyover country (my Palate Press post)

Above: I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Gaia Gaja, Angelo Gaja’s daughter, was super fun to hang out with. I interviewed her over Chicago redhots for my PalatePress piece on my encounters with 3 iconic Italian winemakers in “second-tier” American cities.

Alfonso likes to call it “flyover” country: that glorious swath of land, that sweep of the scythe, those amber waves of grain that span from Chicago to the Rio Grande, the Middle West, Mittelamerika, the Third Coast, the Second Cities. In other words, the America that the Left and Right banks often ignore when it comes to the purveyance of fine wine and dining.

I’ll concede that I probably drank more old wine, thanks to the generosity of collectors, when I lived in cities like New York and Los Angeles. But, honestly, my food and wine life has only become more stimulating and rewarding since I moved to Austin, Texas. (Well, everything has become more stimulating and rewarding since Tracie P née B came into my life.)

Above, at dinner in Austin, from left clockwise: Tracie P, Dave Meyer (Banfi, Texas), Mark Sayre (my super good buddy and wine director Trio, Austin), Wes Marshall (The Austin Chronicle) and wife Emily, Lars Leicht (Banfi, whom I’ve known forever), and Rudy Buratti (winemaker, Banfi).

When I realized that I would be having dinner and tasting with 3 iconic Italian winemakers in 3 different “flyover” cities, over the course of just 5 days, I thought it would make a good piece for PalatePress (and thankfully so did the editors!).

Gaia Gaja of Gaja in Chicago, Rudy Buratti of Banfi (and newly elected member of the Brunello producers association 15-person advisory council) in Austin, and Giampiero Bea of Paolo Bea in Houston.

Above: Another pleasant surprise was the 1999 Banfi Brunello (top vineyard) Poggio all’Oro, a wine I would not typically reach for (nor could afford). It was honest and delicious and it tasted like Montalcino. Great wine.

The fact is that top Italian winemakers are traveling more frequently to markets they’ve neglected in the past. I recently found out that Giorgio Rivetti (producer of the infamously created-just-for-the-American-market, jammy, syrupy, ridiculously concentrated Spinetta wines) visited Austin last month. “It’s not often enough that a true gentlemen like Giorgio spends time in Texas,” wrote one wine blogger/merchant.

This is certainly one of the reasons I’ve been lucky enough to have some interesting wine encounters lately.

But then again, as the jingle for the ol’ So Cal franchise Love’s Wood Pit BBQ used to go, when you’re in Love’s, the whole world’s delicious.

Special thanks to Palate Press editor Meg Houston Maker for believing in the piece and eagle-eye editor Becky Sue Epstein for whipping my piece into shape! :-)

Tracie P’s sfincione was amazing

Above: Last night we hosted the first couple of the Austin wine scene, Craig and April Wright Collins. Tracie P truly outdid herself with her cooking.

To borrow a phrase from friend and colleague Charles Scicolone, whose wife Michele is one of the best cooks I know, “I am truly blessed.”

Tracie P simply outdid herself last night with the dishes she prepared for a dinner party we threw.

Ever since cherished family friend Mrs. Reynolds (above) made us a sfincione to celebrate our then upcoming wedding (back in December), Tracie P has wanted to make this classic savory pie from Sicily.

That’s Tracie P’s, above, on the pizza stone we received for our wedding (thanks, Aunt Holly and Uncle Terry!). Did I mention that I’m blessed?

She also made a wonderful olive oil cake for dessert. Yum…

The 2005 Barolo Ca’ Mia by Brovia was stunning. (Check out Cory’s awesome post on Brovia here.)

That’s all I got time for this morning… gotta run… thanks for reading!

BBQ Capital of Texas ERGO THE WORLD

Yesterday, I finally made it down to Lockhart, Texas, historic Texas small town and the barbecue capital of Texas, “ergo the world,” as my buddy Josh Cross put it. Chef Josh is a Texan through and through but he’s also lived and worked in New York and traveled and eaten his way through Europe. I’d been angling for some time to do a ‘cue crawl with him.

Now, let me tell you, people, when the folks in Lockhart say they reside in the barbecue capital of Texas, they ain’t kidding…

First stop was the legendary Smitty’s Market, just one of the triad Black’s, Kreuz, and Smitty’s. It never ceases to amaze me how idiosyncratic Texas barbecue is: even though everyone is working with the same basic ingredients (brisket, beef rib, pork rib and loin, pork sausage) and cooking techniques (“low and slow” smoking), the expressions of the Texas bbq canon vary as widely as the people who do the cooking. In other words, everyone and every venue offers a distinctly personalized interpretation (the only thing consistent at each eatery is the swagger!).

Smitty’s is known for the juicy, untrimmed fat of its brisket. The smoked brisket and smoked prime rib were unbelievably good but the sausage… o the sausage… perfection…

Of all the bbq joints I’ve visited, Smitty’s is the most impressive for its atmosphere. On the weekend, folks wait hours on line in the smoking room itself, an “inferno,” where the raging fires are literally a span’s length from the chow line. We took our place in line at 11:30 and it took 45 minutes to reach the carving board.

The main dining room (above) is full of happy families and well-behaved children whose good manners are rewarded by the comfort food of all comfort foods (and Blue Bell ice cream for dessert).

There are plastic knives and spoons in the Smitty’s dining room but no forks: you eat the beans and other sides (potato salad, cole slaw, etc.) with the spoon but everything else is consumed religiously with one’s fingers.

I took this photo of chopped Live Oak in the Smitty’s wood pile. Josh explained how Live Oak is essential to central Texas bbq because it burns very hot but without releasing a lot of oil as Mesquite does. 90% Live Oak and 10% Mesquite, he said, is the ideal blend of wood types.

Over the weekend, Austin (about 45 minutes northwest from Lockhart) played host to the Republic of Texas Biker Rally 2010 and so there were bikers everywhere, from every walk of life, like this couple Marc and Kat, who sat next to us at Black’s. (For the record, whenever I photograph strangers for the blog, I always ask permission, just in case they’re wanted by the law.)

The beef rib at Black’s was simply amazing. The smokiness and dry rub had gently penetrated the meat, giving it a wonderful savoriness and spice, and it was so tender that you could cut it easily with a plastic nice (look how even the plastic sliced it!).

But the brisket at Black’s… o my goodness, the brisket… Here, the brisket has been smoked for so long that the smoke ring is entirely black and the meat is so tender that it literally melts in your mouth. Of all the truly delicious things I ate yesterday, the brisket at Black’s was the dish that really blew me away… amazing stuff…

We never did make it to Kreuz Market yesterday but I promise I will before summer’s end in a gesture of purely selfless altruism in order to satisfy your insatiable culinary curiosity.

I’m sure that BrooklynGuy would approve of my self-sacrifice for your gastronomic well-being!

Buona domenica, ya’ll! (That means, “enjoy your Sunday,” for those of you who don’t speak eyetalian.)

Happy birthday Giorgio Grai!

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.”

Debunking the [Greek] Vinsanto and [Italian] Vin Santo myth

Map thanks to the Wiki.

Ok, so since I began working on the Boutari Social Media Project, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Greek wine and trolling the internets for Greek wine tidbits. In the light of this and the fact that I am a self-proclaimed lover of Italian wine and a moonlighting Italian wine historiographer, I feel compelled today to address the forgivable yet undeniably erroneous assumption that the grand traditions of Vin Santo in Italy and Vinsanto in Santorini (Greece) are related in any other way than the homonymical resemblance of their respective designations.

In other words, I’m here today to tell you that the Italian wine is called Vin Santo and the Greek wine is called Vinsanto but the wines are highly distinct from one another in style and substance and history and their relation is purely linguistic. The names sound similar (and there’s a reason for that) but it has nothing to do with the wines themselves, ok?

Exhibit A is the map above. By 1450 The Most Serene Republic of Venice controlled areas highlighted in bright green in what is now modern-day Greece. (I could go on for hours on the Venetian control of Greece and its cultural implications at the time but that’s besides the point.)

Exhibit B is the name of the island of Santorini. The Venetians gave it this name when they controlled the island and its trade during the Renaissance and beyond. The toponym arises from a corruption of the expression agia eirini, ultimately Santa Irene, and subsequently Santorini in the parlance of the Venetian merchants of that era (up until when the Sultan came knocking again, but that’s another story).

(Nota bene: I could find no philologically credible source that pointed to xantos as the origin of the island’s name [as per the Bessarione myth]. All reliable sources point to a [pseudo] Santa Irene as the origin of the Venetians’s name and the contemporary name [Σαντορίνη in contemporary Greek] for the island.)

Above: In a politically aligned marriage that helped the Republic of Venice to secure trade routes in Greece, Venetian noblewoman Caterina Cornaro reigned as the queen of Cyprus in the late 15th century. Photo via Asolo.it.

The most likely explanation for the confusion is that Venetian merchants and perhaps their customers once called the wines they found on Santorini (as the island of Thera was known then and is known today) Vinsanto, an abbreviation of vin[o] santo[rini] (Italian readers of my blog will immediately recognize the important role that the term santo plays in the Venetians’s weakness for blasphemy and related wordplay [paranomasia]).

I don’t have time to document properly the sources I’ve consulted today and I can only beg your patience to trust that I’ve done the legwork (and I have, btw).

I will close today’s post, written in haste, with a passage from the inimitable Kostantinos Lazarakis’s The Wines of Greece (Mitchell Beazley Classic Wine Library series):

    It is difficult to compare vinsanto with Tuscany’s vin santo, especially since the latter can vary from fino sherry-like dryness to highly oxidized sweetness. Most of the volatility in vin santo comes from the barrel-ageing, while vinsanto develops it mainly through sun-drying. Vin santo is dried in the shade, more gently, but for longer. (p. 381)

In fact, the Vinsanto of Santorini is made from Assyrtico and Aidani grapes that “are left on the vine to reach high levels of ripeness… After drying, the grapes are crushed and fermented, mostly on their skins.” Vin Santo from Tuscany, the Veneto, and Trentino is made from grapes dried on mats in the attic of a farmhouse. (There are a number of other elements that make Vin Santo different: the Easter week vinficiation tradition — after the wines have dried slowly on the mats over the winter — and the use of a mother yeast culled from previously used aging cask, for example.)

And I’ll also share the following passage, a little nugget I found in my research, translated slavishly (by me), from the Dizionario del dialetto veneto [Dictionary of Venetian Dialect], compiled by Giuseppe Boerio and published by Giuseppe Cecchini in Venice in 1867, p. 527.

    Vin santo, noi chiamiamo quel vino, che in qualche luogo dello Stato ex Veneto si fa la settimana santa coll’uva appassita, ed è un eccellente liquore che chiamasi Vino santo per esser appunto fatto ne’ giorni prossimi alla Santa Pasqua.

    Vin santo [is what] we call the wine, which, in certain places of the Ex-Veneto State, is produced during Holy Week with dried grapes. And it is an excellent liquor that is called Vin santo for the very fact that it is made during the days close to Holy Easter.

This is the first credible source I’ve found so far where the name of the Italian wine is attributed to the tradition of vinification during Holy Week.

I’ll provide all the footnotes for wine geeks and the philologically inclined, I promise, soon! One lazy Sunday afternoon when Tracie P is busy in the kitchen. Thanks for reading!

When this man is not writing screenplays, he’s wine blogging

When our friend Howard isn’t writing screenplays or composing poems to recite at our wedding (glass of Bolly rosé in hand), you can often find him tasting and discussing wine at his (and my) favorite wine bar in LA, where he and I have spent many an eve discussing the epistemological implications in the nuanced semiosis of a bottle of Cascina Francia by Giacomo Conterno (1998 was the last one we opened together).

He’s even been known to wine blog now and then, like this wonderful post he did today for a film promotion (click on the images to read his wine and cinema pairings).

Chapeau bas, comrade Howard! I will raise a glass to you tonight as I quote my favorite passage from Gramsci!