Perché New York?, a collection of essays on what makes New York a unique and interesting place to live (Piacenza, Edizioni Scrittura, 2007, €14), including contributions by an architect, an artist, a Lacanian psychoanalyst, a photographer, and yours truly.

Hot off the presses: I just received my copy of Perché New York? (Why New York?), a collection of essays to which I contributed “Why New York? A gastronome’s point of view.”

In my piece, I recount the heady years of the late 1990s when Italian cuisine, Italian regional cuisine, and — most significantly — Italian wine took the city by storm (I was then writing for The Magazine of La Cucina Italiana). I don’t want to reveal the ending but my somewhat salacious account reveals some of the less savory elements of the NYC restaurant world and includes a show-down between one of NYC’s most famous and notorious restaurateurs and one of my favorite wine directors… and it ain’t so pretty… The book won’t be available in the U.S. (and it’s in Italian) but you can probably order by emailing the publisher at edizioniscritture@libero.it.

In other news:

I couldn’t resist translating the below passage from a post by top Italian wine blogger (and friend) Franco Ziliani, his notes from a blind tasting of 48 bottlings of Barbaresco from the 2004 vintage. The good news is that 2004 appears to have been a great vintage and the even better news (see below) is that many producers are abandoning their modern approach to winemaking in favor of a more natural and traditional style. The tasting was hosted by The World of Wine Fine in London on December 13 and was attended by some of Britain’s top wine writers and reviewers. One of the surprises — Franco concedes — was that he liked the Gaja. “That’s the rule of blind tastings,” wrote Franco. If you like it (even when you have famously written how much you didn’t like previous vintages), you must say as much. Check out Franco’s notes on the 04 Gaja Barbaresco (notes are in English).

The following translation is drawn from Franco’s notes on the tasting. I love Franco’s writing style and his acerbic wit.

In the flawless 2004 vintage — perfect for the ideal, gradual, slow aging of Nebbiolo –- greatness has returned to show itself again without hesitation or trepidation.

Except for a few indomitable Taliban and Japanese rhinoceros warriors from the jungle who still haven’t heard that “the war” has ended (I call it a “war,” this childhood page in this history of Langhe Nebbiolo), the overwhelming majority of producers has accepted the notion that the era of muscular, hyper-concentrated Barbarescos redolent with wood is over (despite guidebooks editors who continue witlessly to keep it alive using artificial respiration).

For the magical 2004 vintage (and just wait for Barolo next year!!!), these winemakers have chosen the golden path of balance, pleasure, and moderation by simply accommodating what the vine has given them: splendid grapes, with a natural balance of fruit, acidity, and tannin (and let me tell you, mister, these are some fine tannins!). Only fools or wine mujahideen would think of ruining this balance with excessive concentration, concentrators (oh yes!), and the shameless, base use of new wood…

Above: Prince Edward Island oysters at Marlow & Sons in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

As I walked down Broadway toward the water from the J train Marcy stop on Thursday night, I was blown away by how many hipster and higher-end venues have opened in this Williamsburg neighborhood. When I first moved to NYC in 1997, there really wasn’t much here save for the bodegas, pizzerias, and fast foods that lined the street below the elevated train. Back then, the only restaurant that could draw Manhattanites over the Williamsburg Bridge was the highly overrated German beer hall Peter Luger, a would-be steakhouse where overpriced aged beef is drowned in clarified butter and hot-house-grown beefsteak tomatoes are dressed with Peter Luger steak sauce, a fancier version of A1 Steak Sauce.

My destination was über-hipster restaurant Marlow and Sons where I met up with two of the coolest food bloggers I know, Ganda and Winnie (funnily enough, our friend Cecily, also a super cool blogger, was sitting at the table next to us).

Above: note the cloudiness of the unfiltered Lunar in the glass.

We opened the evening with a 1996 Viña Gravonia by López de Heredia (an 11-year-old white wine) that went great with the Prince Edward Island oysters. The wine had more fruit in the mouth than the 95 and 94 that I’ve tasted and its gently oxidized nose was perfect with the salty oyster water.

Next we opened a 2006 Lunar (Ribolla Gialla) by Movia (that I had brought). I had met Movia’s owner Aleš Kristančič when he came to NYC earlier this year and he turned me onto this wine. As he explains it, he essentially places whole grape bunches into a vat, seals it, and lets the free-run juice turn into wine. According to Aleš, this natural wine contains such a small amount of sulfites that he believes he can have it approved by the TTB as “sulfite free.”* This unfiltered wine is rich, tannic, and shows wonderfully fresh flavors and aromas. In a way, it’s like the wine that early humankind drank: grapes that someone had forgotten in an amphora that inadvertently turned into wine. Lunar isn’t cheap and it’s not for everyone but I love it.

We closed the evening with yet another natural wine, a great Gamay. Wine director Marisa Marthaller has put together a remarkable list of naturally made Beaujolais and Beaujolais crus (probably rivaled only by Byron Bates’ list at Bette). She was kind enough to open her last bottle of Phillipe Jambon 2004 Roche Noire. Gauging from the initially super stinky nose, this wine contained no added sulfites. Winnie pointed out rightly that it smelled “poohey.”

Above: a laboratory beaker makes for a great decanter. Because of this natural wine’s initial “poohey” nose, it needed a lot of swirling and aeration. But when it came around, it was delightful.

Marisa (who really knows her stuff) decanted the wine in a laboratory beaker and the pooh smell gave way to delightful fruit. We asked for poohey cheeses to pair and she brought us some Hooligan (CT) and Dorset (VT). I ate the rind and all.

The food there was very good although a little too hipsterized for my taste. The oysters were fresh and delicious but the latkes were a little soggy. I liked the stewed lentils but we all agreed that it didn’t really make sense to top them with undercooked broccolo romanesco.

By the time we left, the restaurant was packed. In our corner alone — between me, Ganda, Winnie, and Amy — there were four bloggers: I can only wonder how many others visited that blogilicious night.

* Sulfites are compounds containing sulphurous acid. In modern winemaking (i.e., winemaking since the mid-19th century), small amounts of sulfur dioxide are often added to wines to “stabilize” them before shipping. The sulfur helps to eliminate bacteria that may be present in the wine and it also helps to keep the wine from oxidizing. But all wine contains some sulfites because as yeast turns sugar into alcohol, one of its byproducts is acid. The U.S. requires that all wine be labeled “contains sulfites” because asthmatics and people with aspirin allergies can be affected adversely by contact with sulfites. The “sulfite headache” is a myth. The reason why certain people experience headaches after drinking even small quantities of wine is that they are drinking bad wine! Imbalanced wines — especially highly alcoholic and overly concentrated wines — are what give people headaches. You can also get a wine headache by drinking too much of any wine and it’s important to remember that you should never drink wine without food and you should never sit down at the table without having a glass of water as well (if you’re drinking wine).

Above: old, traditionally vinified Sangiovese and grilled aged beef is perhaps one of the world’s most felicitous combinations and made our table very happy the other night at Keens Steakhouse in midtown.

One of my favorite things about Keens Steakhouse is the restaurant’s stationery. Its check presenters are adorned with Goreyesque imagery and there are “note pads” deposited at each table by the waitstaff (“Notes taken while at Keens”). We felt like school kids the other night when we met there for a porterhouse paired with old Chianti and began passing notes with savory and sometimes salacious commentary.

The star of the evening was a 1986 Chianti Classico Riserva by Castell’in Villa that we had brought ourselves. Words cannot describe how well this traditionally vinified Sangiovese paired with the meat: a seemingly divine combination of fruit and tannins that cut exquisitely through the juicy fat and richness of the beef.

And in what is sure to earn an Oscar nomination for best supporting actor, a 2000 Corton-Charlemagne by Olivier Lefaive performed wondrously. I’d never tasted this cru and as wrong as it seemed to pair it with my Caesar salad (topped with marinated anchovies), the match was spectacularly delicious. The wine had a seductively unctuous mouthfeel and a delicate balance of mineral flavors and subtle white stone fruit.

Above: the spirit was glib if not goliardic that night.

Following my post on La Terra Trema the other day, a number of friends and fellow bloggers have written me and shared their experiences.

Top blogger and good friend Alice Feiring sent me the below pic of a poster for Critical Wine that she saw on her way to the Vini Veri fair in 2006.

Above: “Rebellious Land and Critical Wine.” Alice took this photo of the Skinny Food Writer on their way to Villa Matterana (click the image to read her post on Vini Veri).

My friend Wolgang Weber also weighed in with a piece he wrote on Critical Wine for the April 2007 issue of Wine and Spirits. The piece wasn’t available online and so I’ve cut and paste below:

Terra e libertà/Critical wine

by Wolfgang M. Weber

My friend’s Vespa was parked at the end of a long street near a pile of scooters forced up against a crumbly brick wall covered in graffiti. I pulled my scooter in as well and walked over to an entryway in the wall that opened on to a worn path. The massive stone bulwarks of the 18th century Forte Prenestino spread out before me, and there was a large red banner with Terra e libertà/Critical wine stitched in white cloth over a black pitchfork. This was a wine tasting?

Forte Prenestino is a centro sociale, most commonly a large abandoned structure like a train station, factory, or, as in the case of the Forte, a former military structure, that has been taken over by squatters who often make creative use of the space. The Italian government turns a blind eye if the squat is used to host public concerts, film screenings or lectures; add public wine tastings to that list now that Critical Wine is on the scene.

Critical Wine aims to raise awareness of the potential ills of globalization—industrial agriculture and food production, environmental concerns, GMOs, international economic inequality—through public wine “happenings” where they bring together artisan wine producers from up and down Italy. Most notable, perhaps, is the insistence that participating wine producers work with indigenous grape varieties, practice organic or sustainable viticulture and show wines that exhibit some sense of their particular territorio. A sign displayed on the wall behind the producers from Basilicata read “Autoctono [indigenous]; No barrique; No cabernet; No merlot; No syrah.”

The organization originally formed in Milan with the help of Italian gastronome/intellectual Luigi Veronelli (who died in 2004), and staged its first wine event at Verona’s La Chimica centro sociali concurrent with Vinitaly in April of 2003. Similar events have since taken place in many of Italy’s major cities, attracting large numbers of Italians from all walks of life. Critical Wine returns again this year to Verona from April 3–4.

Slow Food International, also an Italian organization, is similar to Critical Wine insofar as it aims to protect and promote smaller, regional food and wine artisans against a rising tide of internationalized tastes and global production. Critical Wine, however, is probably better described as a collective promoting worldwide social change through a focus on mankind’s relationship to food and wine.

That’s a lofty goal for any organization, let alone one built around staging wine tastings with a quasi-socialist bent. But then the cultivation and consumption of wine and food in western culture has always had powerful connotations. Whether it’s the relationship between a grower/winemaker and the plot of earth he tends, or a group of people coming together at table to share a meal, wine and food possess the ability to inspire a reflection beyond the narrow parameters of everyday life. Can that save the world? Who knows, but it’s worth trying.

There have been a couple of truly interesting posts about Luigi Veronelli in the last few days, including this one by Alan Toner, who points out — rightly — that Veronelli’s legacy stretches far beyond his interest in barrique. Alan renders a genuinely compelling account of his life (including Veronelli’s 1957 incarceration “for having translated and published Historiettes, contes et fabliaux by the Marquis De Sade, defined as an ‘obscene publication’ and publicly burnt in Varese”).

Franco Ziliani also did this post (in Italian) inspired by recent remembrances of Veronelli and his “oenoic utopia.”