If you’re planning your vacation in Italy…

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If you’re planning your vacation in Italy this summer, think about Abruzzo…

After breaking away from the phalanx of wine professionals with whom I was traveling on my last day at Vinitaly in April, I had the great fortune to taste with Abruzzo winemakers Sofia and Emidio Pepe. The next morning, the earthquake struck the region in the hours before dawn, taking the lives of nearly 300 people and leaving 28,000 homeless.

You may remember Eric’s post “Aftershocks” which appeared on The Pour in the days that followed the tragedy in L’Aquila. As Eric pointed out, even though the Abruzzo wine industry wasn’t affected directly by the earthquake, the long-term impact will be drastic because 10-50% of the wine produced there is sold and consumed locally.

Above: I have always loved Emidio Pepe’s Montepulicano d’Abruzzo, made in a totally natural style. “Emidio Pepe may be even more of purist than Valentini [another one of Italy’s iconic natural winemakers],” wrote Burton Anderson in his landmark book Vino. “He crushes his grapes by foot” and “possesses not a single piece of modern equipment in his rustic winery.” Drinking these stinky elegant wines is like listening to Thelonious Monk’s “Ugly Beauty.”

Abruzzo is a pristine region of immense natural beauty. Its hills are dotted with wonderful medieval villages where life was never contaminated by the industrial progress forged during fascism.

L’Aquila (where the epicenter hit) was so named (“the eagle”) by 13th-century emperor Frederick II of Swabia who was one of the greatest falconers of his time. Dante condemned Frederick to his Inferno for being an epicurean.

If you’re considering/planning a trip to Italy this summer, think about Abruzzo.

In other news…

You can find info for Nous Non Plus shows in San Francisco (tomorrow), San Jose (Friday), and Los Angeles (Saturday) here. Hope to see you at the shows. Tracie B will be Tracie B there too! (well, just in LA)

Human, all too human: remembering Josko Gravner’s son

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One of the owners of Terroir Natural Wine Merchant and Bar in San Francisco, Guilhaume Gerard, recently reminded me that that the wines come first, before the people who import them. Guilhaume pointed out rightly that while there are a lot of people in the wine trade whom we admire and care about and others whose scruples give us pause, the wines are what is really important. I agree with him.

To Guilhaume’s observation, I would add only that the wines and the people who make them come before the people who import and sell them.

miha_gravnerToday, after Franco and I posted on VinoWire about the tragic and senseless passing of the young Miha Gravner (left, photo by Alfonso), I was blown away by how many people linked back to our post, on Facebook and on their blogs, writing about how they never met the young man but how, nonetheless, they felt a personal connection to him and his family through their wines. As Franco wrote in his post at Vino al Vino, Miha had begun working closely with his father Josko and would have continued his father’s legacy.

Josko Gravner was part of a small group of radical “extreme” winemakers, who, as Eric wrote today in an unrelated post, vinified and aged their wine in clay amphorae. I’ve tasted Gravner’s wines on many different occasions, from many different vintages, and no one can deny that these are benchmark, original wines, wines that push the envelope of contemporary winemaking by reaching back to the secrets of the ancients. Josko is also one of the fathers of the natural wine movement in Italy and was inspired by the teachings of Rudolf Steiner.

Cory at Saignée put it best when he wrote:

    If you’ve never had one of Josko’s wine, now is the perfect time to grab a bottle and raise a glass to him. They are some of the most individualistic, interesting, and unforgettable wines in the world from a man who has dedicated his life to exploring the possibilities of what wine can be. i, of course, have never met the man and am only familiar with his wines, but i’d like to think that personality can come across in wine making and that you can know someone just a little through their wines, and i wish him the best through this tragedy.

I imagine that Cory, Guilhaume, and I will open a bottle of Gravner at Terroir on Thursday night before I head over to do our set with Nous Non Plus at Rickshaw Stop.

Stop by if you have the time and we’ll remember a young man who would have made the wines we would have drunk for a lifetime.

The best Mexican restaurant in the world?

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Above: Fonda San Miguel’s owner Miguel Ravago told me that the restaurant’s name was inspired by a Mexican fonda or inn and the fact that he and his family used to own a house in San Miguel Allende.

California friends Robin Stark and David Schacter were in town for the weekend for a visit and so it was finally time for me to check out the legendary brunch at Fonda San Miguel in Austin. We went today, joined by Robin’s friend John Balistreri who also lives nearby.

Tracie B and I will often go there for a nice dinner on a weekday night, if we have something to celebrate or just want to do something special. We always eat at the bar and we LOVE the antojitos: the sopes topped with salpicon de pescado and cochinita pibil are our favorites. But I had still never been for brunch. The night before, Robin and David had paid a visit to a celebrity west Texas gourmet Hill Rylander who, when asked about the restaurant, responded by saying, “Fonda San Miguel is not the best Mexican restaurant in Austin… It’s the best Mexican restaurant in the world!” He might just be right.

Above: Corn pudding and chilaquiles, migas, marinated green chiles stuffed with cheese, and beans. Miguel told me that the corn pudding is used to sooth the tastebuds after you’ve eaten something too spicy. I tried it and he was right.

I’ve eaten great Mexican food throughout California and Mexico: from my family’s home in La Jolla (San Diego, CA), it takes only 30 minutes to reach the border and I have traveled extensively through Baja California and lived a summer in Mexico City when I was a teenager. In my experience, the moles (green and brown) at Fonda San Miguel are among the best I’ve ever had.

Above: The salad section of the buffet includes guacamole, ceviche, and Tracie B’s favorite, the spinach salad.

David — one of the most demanding palates and gourmets I’ve ever met — agreed, noting that the guacamole, a deceptively simple dish, was outstanding. Tracie B needed no convincing: she’s known all along! She always says that the cochinita pibil was one of the things she missed most (after her family, of course) when she lived in Ischia.

Above: Miguel told me that George W. Bush proposed to Laura at this table. The European travelers at the table were gracious enough to let me photograph it (I didn’t tell them why!).

The brunch is an all-you-can eat buffet and although not cheap, is a great value for the quality of the food (and all the chefs are very knowledgeable and talkative about the dishes; Miguel spends his time between Spain and Texas and we were lucky to find him there). I highly recommend it but be sure to make reservations because it is always packed and people understandably linger.

From left to right, counter clockwise: John Balistreri, Robin Stark, David Schacter, and Tracie B.

I hold these tagliatelle to be self-evident

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Dear Tracie B: after you, Mrs. Judy P, and Mrs. Martha Jane B, there is another woman whose food I love. Yes, it’s true. And as much as I relish your fried chicken and your southern ragù (and the huevos rancheros you made me on Valentine’s), and as much as I love my mom’s Caesar salad and her meatloaf (and her Yorkshire puddin’), and as much as I love your mom’s chili dogs and breakfast loaf (and her tuna fish salad with hard-boiled eggs), and as much as I miss the Jaynes Burger back in sunny San Diego, there is another lady who holds a top spot in my heart. Her name is Signora Corrado and she lives in Bologna. And every week she makes fresh pasta for her husband and her son (one of my dearest and oldest friends, Corradino “Dindo” Corrado). Yes, it’s true: I fell in love with a Southern Belle and guagliona named Tracie B but my Yankee heart still hankers for the tagliatelle of my university days when I would hop a train from Padua and head to Bologna to play music at the legendary Casalone, and hang out with my buds Puddu and Dindo.

Here’s a step-by-step “how to make fresh pasta” by Mrs. Corrado herself. I hold these tagliatelle to be self-evident!

Make a well with flour and break the eggs into the well. (A lot of folks might add salt here, but Signora Corrado says to season the pasta only with the generous salt added to the cooking water; see Tracie B’s post on seasoning the cooking water.)

Mix the eggs into the flour using two forks.

Work the dough well with your hands (this is the most labor intensive part but it’s the most important). Most people say that you know its ready when its surface feels like a baby’s bottom.

Cover and let the pasta rest in a cool, dry place for at least 30 minutes.

Work the dough again with your hands, adding a little more flour.

Roll the dough out to the desired thickness.

Note above the length of her rolling pin. The length is important to achieve even consistency.

Fold the pasta over itself, making a “book” about 3 inches in widgth

Slice the tagliatelle with the desired width. The name taglatelle comes from the Italian tagliare, to cut.

Gently separate the tagliatelle.

Gather them into little bunches and let them dry all morning or afternoon on a floured pasta board.

Serve with your favorite sauce. Those are garganelli to the left, but you’ll have to check out my guest post at My Life Italian for those.

Thanks, Dindo, for sending these photos!

Ramontalcinos say no to Merlot

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Above: They say “no” to Merlot. Federico Marconi (left) handles marketing and Gianni Fabbri is the winemaker at the Fabbri family’s winery, Le Presi, one of my favorite Brunello producers. I tasted with them and snapped these photos at the Italian wine trade fair, Vinitaly, earlier this month.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against Merlot per se. I’ve tasted great Merlot from all over the world — Bordeaux, Trentino, Friuli, Tuscany, California. I can’t say that I’m a fan of most it but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it.

The problem, as Alice pointed out in her post today, is that Merlot is a grape Zelig: “Why does everyone has to grow merlot? Because it’s a grape Zelig? Merlot, like mint, takes to most places.”

Merlot has been grown in Tuscany for centuries, but it was during the 1980s and 90s that it became increasingly popular there, as the Super Tuscan craze began to emerge and Italy began to sell more wine in the Merlotophile American market. Behind his back (and with an acute dose of disdain), many Italian winemakers call Tuscany’s leading wine wizard “Mr. Merlot” — a distinction bestowed upon him because of the ubiquitous Merlot in his award-winning Chiantis and his alleged use of Merlot in Brunello di Montalcino, where appellation regulations require the wine be made with 100% Sangiovese grapes.

Yesterday, when I wrote “just say no to Merlot,” I was addressing and appealing to producers of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, who are considering an increase in the amount of international grape varieties allowed in their appellation.

My friend, artist, poet, musician, and marketing director for old school Brunello producer Le Presi, Federico “Ramontalcino” Marconi, had this to say:

    The Fred Man too says No to Merlot! Let’s defend a precious little thing called “heritage”… Why are they so short-sighted and unable to recall the nasty backlash of last year’s “Brunello-gate”? I don’t get it: what does these people have against a Good Ol’ Sangiovese!? And let me tell ya: I am a Sangiovese “fan to the bone”. Gabba Gabba Hey!

Above: Federico created this “Old School” t-shirt to reflect Le Presi’s traditional approach to winemaking. Even though the winemaker and his team are young, the wines are as old school as it gets — natural fermentation and aging in botti, large old, neutral oak barrels. Wolfgang was the first to post on this great marketing idea.

When I met Federico and we became friends, we decided we would start a band called the Ramontalcinos (we owe the name to Josh Loving of Vino Vino fame, an accomplished classical guitar player, who will also be part of the act).

I wish more Italian winemakers could be like Federico and Gianni: they marry a punk rock sensibility with a respect and passion for their heritage. They are wise to see that they can better market their wines not by changing their nature but rather by infusing their image and perception of their brand with youthful energy and verve.

Gabba gabba hey.

Ringo says no to Merlot, too. Check out this clip of Ringo singing the “No No Song” with the Smothers Brothers. The best part is the gag at the end (with Ben Einstein)!

Just Say NO to Merlot!

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In case you haven’t read Franco’s editorial at VinoWire, “Vino Nobile producers: just say no to Merlotization,” please check it out (translation by yours truly). Vino Nobile di Montepulciano is one of the greatest terroir-driven expressions of Sangiovese and it would be a pity to see it dumbed down by higher percentages of international grape varieties. Please comment if you feel so inclined.

Patrizia Castiglioni and Dora Forsoni make my favorite Vino Nobile at Sanguineto. Tracie B always notes that “if Willie Nelson had an Italian sister, it would be Dora.” They are truly lovely folks and when I took this photo of them, Dora smiled sweetly at Patrizia and said, “no one has ever taken our picture together before.” Their wines are natural and stinky, just the way I like them. You won’t find any Merlot here.

1968 Monfortino I need say no more

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From the “life could be worse” department…

The other night found me and Tracie B in the home of our dear friend Alfonso, who treated us to one of the best bottles of wine I’ve ever drunk in my life: 1968 Barolo Monfortino by Giacomo Conterno (steaks by Alfonso, photo by Tracie B). It was one of those truly life-changing wines, a miracle in a bottle and a wonder in the glass, at once light and lithe, powerful and awesome. I’ve tasted — tasted, mind you, not drunk — 55, 58, 61, and 71 (some of the greatest years for Langa in the 20th century). Martinelli calls the 1968 harvest “good” (not great) and the wine did have some vegetal notes that I believe were product of the vintage. But quality of the materia prima (there is superb fruit in nearly every vintage, sometimes less of it than more) and the winemaking approach (aged 10 years in botti before bottling according to the back label!) made for a wine that I will never forget.

Need I say more? Check out Tracie B’s tasting notes.

Carissimo Alfonso, grazie per una serata indimenticabile!

In other news…

The other day at Bistro Vatel in San Antonio, I enjoyed one of the best meals I’ve had since I moved to Texas (save for daily dining chez Tracie B!). Owner Damien Vatel is a descendant of legendary 17th-century French chef François Vatel.

The resulting photography is pretty darn sexy, if I do say so myself.

In other other news…

I’d like to mention two series of ampelographic posts that I’ve been following: the one by Alessandro Bindocci at Montalcino Report, who asks “Is Sangiovese Grosso really Grosso?” and the other by Susannah Gold at Avvinare, who is writing an English-language dictionary of Italian grape varieties.

Nous Non Plus (the band I play guitar in) in SF, SJ, and SF

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Do you know the way to San Jose?

Oh, LA is a great big freeway
Put a hundred down and buy a car
In a week, maybe two, they’ll make you a star

Above: My friend François Gourveneur snapped this photo of a poster advertising our show at Spaceland on May 9 in Silver Lake (Los Angeles), one of my all-time favorite clubs.

In case you haven’t seen the review of our semi-new album Ménagerie in Blender Magazine this month, here’s a snippet:

    [NNP’s] music evokes ’60s Parisian cocktail pop to construct a comforting, sophisticated respite from the coarseness of modern life — flutes and strings augment acoustic guitars as soft and buttery as a croissant. Underneath the sumptuousness, though, nervous romanticism does battle with a prankster streak.

The shows in San Francisco at Rickshaw Stop (May 7) and Los Angeles at Spaceland (May 9) will probably sell out, so please buy your tickets in advance (click links for ticket sales). I’m really looking forward to getting back to California, playing some good music, and reconnecting with friends there. (And Tracie B will be at the LA show.)

The show in San Jose at Nickel City (May 8) probably won’t sell out but here is advance ticket sales info anyway. I don’t know why our manager booked us at a all-ages video arcade, although in all fairness to him, teenagers do like our music. I just googled San Jose and the city’s motto is: “San Jose, the fun never stops.” Who knew?

Hope to see you at the shows!

*****

Do you know the way to San Jose
I’ve been away so long
I may go wrong and lose my way
Do you know the way to San Jose
I’m goin’ back to find
Some peace of mind in San Jose

LA is a great big freeway
Put a hundred down and buy a car
In a week, maybe two, they’ll make you a star
Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass
And all the stars that never were
Are parkin’ cars and pumpin’ gas

You can really breathe in San Jose
They’ve got a lot of space
There’ll be a place where I can stay
I was born and raised in San Jose
I’m goin’ back to find
Some peace of mind in San Jose

Fame and fortune is a magnet
It can pull you far away from home
With a dream in your heart you’re never alone
Dreams turn into dust and blow away
And there you are without a friend
You pack your car and ride away

I’ve got lots of friends in San Jose
Do you know the way to San Jose

Oh, LA is a great big freeway
Put a hundred down and buy a car
In a week, maybe two, they’ll make you a star
Weeks turn into years, how quick they pass
And all the stars that never were
Are parkin’ cars and pumpin’ gas

I’ve got lots of friends in San Jose, oh…oh…
Do you know the way to San Jose, mmm…mmm…
Can’t wait to get back to San Jose

Double-take: Italy, Texas

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From the “double-take” department…

Given my chronic case of Italophilia, “my new life Texana,” and my philological (and toponomastic) leanings, it was inevitable that sooner or later I would have to investigate and address the origins of the toponym Italy, Texas (the “two boots” of Italy and Texas, left, reside side-by-side on a shop-window on main street, right next to the Uptown Café in Italy, Texas). Tracie B and I stopped there yesterday on our way back from Dallas (where our dear friend Alfonso hosted us for dinner and opened a few truly unforgettable bottles — but you’ll have to wait for Tracie B’s post for more detail). Italy lies about 40 minutes south of Dallas along I-35 (which leads south from Dallas to Waco, Waco to Austin).

In his lectures and essays on memory, the contemporary Italian philosopher Remo Bodei loves to cite another noted homonymous place name in Texas — Paris, Texas, celebrated in film by the great director Wim Wenders. Why, he asks in his lecture “The Traumas of Memory,” have European emigrants named their settlements in the New World after their place of origin? “To create a transitional object? A soft landing in the flight from the known to the unknown? I believe that something analogous happens even in traumas connected to loss. In effect, monuments and burial rituals are carried out to remember and forget simultaneously. When objectified, pain hurts less.”

Above: The water tower in Italy, Texas.

As it turns out, Italy — locally pronounced IT-lee — was not named after its settlers’s country of origin but rather — at least, according to local legend — by a late-nineteenth-century post master who believed the climate of Texas was similar to Italy’s.

Above: The picturesque main street of Italy, Texas has remained virtually unchanged since the 1930s.

One of the reasons we wanted to stop there was to eat at the Uptown Café, an eatery called one of the “best small town Texas cafés” by Texas Monthly Magazine. But when we got there the proprietor, a very nice lady, told us “Ever’ Tom, Dick, and Harry dun’ came in here and ate everythang.” So we ended up eating at the Texas Best Smokehouse, the flagship restaurant and novelty store of a small, locally owned chain. They smoke their own jerky there (for all of their locations, I was told) and they also make pistachio pudding. The Texas Best Smokehouse is located on Dale Evans Dr., in turn named after one of Italy’s most famous daughters.

Above: I couldn’t resist the pistachio pudding, which is made — I believe — with Cool Whip, Jello mix, and pistachios. Metabolically, it was probably a bad decision, as was the bbq sausage sandwich. But, what the hay? You only live twice, right?

Double-meanings, paronomasia, puns, and — in this case — a homonymous place name, are the source of endless fascination for me. (One of these days, I’ll do a post on the origins of the place name California. I know of at least two towns in Italy named California.)

The other day, Franco sent a wonderful photo, snapped in the Alps, of the Italian and Texan flags flying together. As it turns out, there’s a little bit of Italy in Texas, too.

Call me crazy: white clam pizza and Nebbiolo

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From the “life could be worse” department…

Above: Call me crazy but I paired cherry stone clam pizza and Nebbiolo the other day at Nonna in Dallas. It was delicious. The fruit in the 2005 Produttori del Barbaresco is showing beautifully right now and shows no signs of wanting to close up.

The San Diego Kid (that’s me, your resident wine cowboy) found himself in Dallas the other day, dusty and tired after a day of showing wine, with a six-pack of wine still slung around his back, his trusty companion Dinamite (the Silver Hyundai) beaten but not broken, and a bottle half-full of 2005 Produttori del Barbaresco still to be drunk. So he moseyed on over to the nearest saloon and parked his chaparreras at the bar at Nonna, where owner Julian Barsotti insisted he have the white pizza with cherry stone clams.

Above: Rock star owner and chef Julian Barsotti of Nonna makes some of the best pizza in Texas. He spent a season in Naples where he studied at the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana.

Julian opens the cherry stone clams first, reserves the juices, and then slowly wilts Vidalia onions with their juice and some cream until the onions literally melt and the cream and clam juice reduce to a thick sauce which he seasons with a mix of finely chopped herbs. Before firing the pizza in a wood-fired oven, he dresses the pizza with the clams, sauce, and a sprinkle of Parmigiano Reggiano. I’m still a big fan of his Margherita but the white clam pizza was the best I’ve ever had this side of New Haven, Connecticut.

The pairing was as decadent as it was delicious. In Italy, I still pair my pizza with beer (as tradition dictates) but here in the Wild West, crazy things can happen.

In other news…

I couldn’t be there this year (but I was last year): the first couple of Italian-American food and wine Michele and Charles Scicolone hosted their second “bygone wines” dinner in New York. Check out Eric’s post here.

In other other news…

Today (April 25) is Liberation Day in Italy, commemorating the partisans’s triumph over fascist and Nazi rule in 1945 (Milan and Turin were liberated on this day).