Cassis and Bouillabaisse

Where do I find good bouillabaisse in the Bay Area?

I have the best white wine to pair with this famed Provençal fish stew, the 2007 Cassis Blanc from Clos Sainte-Magdeleine.

The last time I enjoyed a bouillabaisse was a few years ago at Chez Gilbert in the old port of Cassis. I washed it down with the local Cassis blanc, unfortunately it wasn't the Clos Sainte-Magdeleine.

The best producer of Cassis blanc is the estate of Clos Sainte-Magdeleine. I don't think I've ever visited a more beautiful winery. Set on the edge of a sheer limestone cliff overlooking the blue waters of the Mediterranean and the calanques of Cassis, its vineyard rises up on the foots of Cap Canaille, the highest cliff in France. It's a breathtaking scene.

Tall pines and shrubs surround the vineyard where Ugni Blanc, Clairette, Marsanne, and Sauvignon Blanc are planted. These grapes make up the blend for the Cassis Blanc of Clos Sainte-Magdeleine.

If you ever find a resto that serves good bouillabaisse, or if you have the skill to whip one up yourself, make sure you drain some of the 2007 Clos Sainte-Magedeleine Cassis Blanc between slurps. You'll be in heaven for sure.

Me & Julia

I became a Julia Child fan in the 1980s while living in Beantown--ground zero for Julia worship. I hanged out with other foodies equally obsessed with Julia. I perused her books and tuned in to her WGBH TV shows regularly. I even lived in the same town she did (Cambridge), often shopped at her favorite food store (Savenor's), and was a regular at the Somerville Wine and Cheese Cask, just a few blocks from her house.

My friends and I wouldn't dare use a kitchen gadget or appliance that didn't meet Julia's approval. No pressure-cookers or microwave ovens. The garlic press had to be Zyliss. But we took immediately to Cuisinart because Julia ok'd that from the get-go.

Some of my friends actually bumped into her while she was on her errands around town. Alas, I never had such luck.

When I moved to the West Coast in the 1990s Julia's heyday was over--Emeril and the Food Network dominated the cooking airwaves, while the Iron Chef series took cuisine to the edge. There were new culinary heroes, too, like Thomas Keller, Jean-Georges, and Charlie Trotter. Haute-cuisine was everywhere.

A year before I opened my wine store, I was back in Boston on business for my employer. The only part of business travel I looked forward to was checking out interesting restaurants while in town. On my way to the hotel at the end of day, I passed by the newly opened Café Louis in the plush men's department store, Louis of Boston. George Germon of Al Forno, Providence's best restaurant, was the consulting chef, so I just have to make a reservation for dinner that night.

Strolling back to the restaurant I stopped by a bookstore in the Pru to pick up Jasper White's newly published Lobster at Home. I find it useful to have a book to browse when dining alone.

The restaurant was nearly empty when I got there--slow weeknight or grand opening pains it seemed. I was seated at one of the tables by the wall that shared a long bench with three separate tables.

After I ordered, the dull quiet in the restaurant ceased when a group of five elderly, boisterous women marched in and got seated next to me. Good thing I had my book handy, and fortunately the woman sitting next to me on the bench seemed the most subdued, she kept mostly silent while her friends chatted loudly, emphatically inserting French words as they spoke in Boston-accented voices--ssuperr! tres tres bien! Kinda odd because the restaurant was Italian.

I twiddled my fork and hunched over my book in an effort to ignore them. Finally, the woman sitting next to me also joined the conversation. I immediately noticed her voice was high-pitched, chirpy, and warbly--strangely familiar. I glanced at her shoulder unable to see her face, unless I impolitely stared up, as she towered over me. She must have seen the cover of the book I was reading because she turned to me and asked, 'Is that Jasper's new book?' At that point, without even looking at her, it hit me. I know this person. It was Julia--sitting, freakin' elbow-to-elbow with me on the bench! And now she's striking up a conversation with me!

Birthday Wines

Drinking birth year wines is a favorite tradition among wine lovers. Those fortunate enough to be born in years like 1945, 1959, 1961, 1966, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1982, and so forth, are flush with great wines to toast their beginnings.

Others may not be so blessed, particularly those born in 1954, 1957, 1958, 1962, 1973, etc. because these happen to be dreary vintages for the long-lived wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Port, Champagne, Barolo, and Napa Cabernets.

In actuality, though, wine has an almost mischievous bent to surprise and, even more so, an ability to elude wine critics and scores. I have written about many of those wines borne under poor vintages which proved to be triumphant and more resilient than can be imagined.

A 1954 Chateau Latour, 1979 Sassicaia, 1967 Chateau Haut-Brion, 1982 Henri Jayer Echezeaux, 1983 DRC Grands-Echezeaux, 1986 Leroy Meursault, and 1994 Chateau de Beaucastel, just to name a tiny sample, have all bucked the prevailing vintage charts and turned out to be great, memorable wines. Why? Well, I have my thoughts but that's another subject entirely.

My good friend, Steve, celebrated his birthday yesterday and so we opened a bunch of great wines to accompany the haute-cuisine of our favorite food joint, Unicorn Pan-Asian Restaurant in San Francisco.

There was little, if any, rhyme to the flow of wines we uncorked. First off was the 1957 R. Lopez de Heredia Vina Tondonia Rioja Blanco. A spectacular white to start any dinner. Though hailing from the north, this was almost Andalucian in character, with amontillado-like nutty-dryness and suffused with dried apricots and minerals.

In tandem with the white Rioja was another '57, no, not a Chevy, but the 1957 Domaine de Mont-Redon Chateauneuf du Pape Rouge. This was made with eighty percent Grenache, and when tasted back in 1989 by Rhone writer, John Livingstone-Learmonth, was described as "well advanced, with a precarious richness still apparent among a host of coffeee and toasted aromas." Well, twenty more years forward my own experience of this wine was stellar. Licorice, red fruit scents. Juicy, fresh red plums with undertones of cedar, pepper, and dark chocolate. Brilliant concentration and structure. Long, gentle finish.

After the venerable Chateauneuf, a white Burgundy followed, the 1995 Maison Leroy Chassagne-Montrachet Morgeot. A flawless white Burgundy bearing fresh pear, citrus oil, and mineral flavors. Golden straw-colored. Batard-like depth but with the lighter body of a premier cru.

Any of the preceding wines could easily be the highlight of the evening, but a pair of DRCs can not be denied. The 1997 DRC Echezeaux was subdued on approach, its bouquet of sweet spice, violets, and rose petals steadily soaring. Soft-textured, fleshy, and well-concentrated; as I focused on it, the more it grew on me. I found its understated character, perfect balance, and charming elegance very beautiful.




Our birthday boy treated us to a timeless wine, the 1976 DRC Romanee-Saint-Vivant "Marey-Monge". This was made during the period DRC was still farming the RSV parcel for the heirs of the Marey-Monge family, who at one time owned the RSV in its entirety (DRC subsequently acquired the plot in 1988). Like many of the vintage's reds, 1976 DRCs have good concentration but hard tannins that never seem to come around. But on this night, this '76 RSV was so seductive and regal. Rose petals, cherry liqueur nose. Intense ripe, sweet red fruits, round, expansive, seductive, and haunting. It was like opening a chest full of great memories. Very long, youthful, and still full of promise.


Post Script:
I really like to end the post with this '76 DRC RSV, but we did drink a few other wines afterwards. A 1991 Valduero Gran Reserva "12 Anos" Ribera del Duero showed a yummy sweet, vanilla American oak toast scents and dense black fruit concentration. The 2004 Chateau de Fargues Sauternes from the Lur Saluces family (longtime owners of Yquem) has a very lovely botrytised, butterscotch nose. It was elegantly sweet with spicy caramel notes and a graceful, long exit. Finally, the 1993 Chateau Pajzos Tokaji 5 Puttonyos had a waxy, honeycomb scent immediately followed by bright red apple flavors. It was very concentrated, intense, powerful, and long. A mere infant at this point.

Donato Enoteca: First Look

My first dinner tonight at Donato Enoteca was a success in every way. To be fair the restaurant is just on its third day of opening, plus I invited some prima donna friends to come with me. Chef/proprietor Donato Scotti did not fail us with his pristine food, while the staff followed through with friendly, competent service.





The wine service, in particular, was overachieving. Seven of us brought half a dozen bottles, and, of course we wanted everything chilled, decanted, and served in individual Riedel glasses, pronto. No sweat. Wine director, Eric Lecours, was unperturbed, proceeding methodically and precisely with the corkscrew and glassware. Shinya Tasaki would be impressed.




The 1982 Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Brut Blanc de Blancs was magnificent with our antipasti. Steely, rich, nutty, with long, elegant flavors.




Calamari and white bean salad with baby spinach. The squid was tender, but the beans were still a bit firm; nevertheless, this was simple, light, and pure.




Prosciutto-wrapped pillow of puffed pastry. I've never had this combo before. Interesting, but the puffed pastry did little for me, it was the rich quality of the prosciutto that was mouthwatering.




Donato's signature Bruschetta di Cinghiale or braised wild boar, onion and Chianti vinegar spread on grilled bread. The Italian take on deconstructed pulled-pork sandwich. Tender shreds of tasty pork with a delicious, slightly tangy seasoning. This was devoured quickly. We should have ordered more.




My rustic plate of veal chop. Crusty, juicy, perfectly cooked.




1959 Chateau Grand-Puy-Lacoste, Pauillac. Like what you'd expect from a '59, really beautiful. Fresh currants and dark berries with cedary notes and lovely tannins. Muscular sweetness. Drinking perfectly now.




1981 Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia, Bolgheri. Earthy currant nose. Bright, earthy blackberries. Cool and fresh in the mouth. Precise, elegant, and high-toned. A focused wine that demands the right food, like a rare steak.




1996 Gaja Darmagi Langhe. A great wine with enormous potential. The fruit is dense, sweet, earthy, and mineral with layers of currants, figs, and spices. Velvety tannins. Powerful and persistent. This will evolve for decades! Amazing what Cabernet Sauvignon can do in Barbaresco.


1993 Ornellaia, Bolgheri. Superb. Drinking perfectly. I don't know much about the history of Ornellaia. I thought this was Merlot-based but I was wrong. This vintage is mostly Cabernet Sauvignon with some percentage of Merlot and Cabernet Franc. No wonder it was fragrant with cedary currants and mulberry. Creamy, lush, earthy cassis and cherry fruit. Elegant and perfectly balanced.


Donato fired up his gelato machine and made us an assortment of refreshing gelati. A great way to finish the meal. Luxurious dense, creamy texture, with just enough air to float in the mouth and savor the intense, pure fruit taste. Most enjoyable gelati I've ever had!



Freshly-made gelato of wild berry and limoncello.




Freshly-made gelato of pistacchio, vanilla, and chocolate.


I shall be returning many times to Donato's Enoteca. Already the prospects for getting a great meal look very bright. Bravo!


Donato Enoteca
1041 Middlefield Road
Redwood City, CA 94063
650.701.1000
Open everyday for lunch and dinner

The Ultimate Wine Book?

Thudding in at 8.21 pounds, 926 pages, the revised edition of Wine stops a door cold and doubles as a weight for deadlift exercises. It is a formidable use of paper.

Wine is also a great read. The concise, unassuming title is deceptive--unadorned with self-aggrandizing attachments as "Bible", "Encyclopedia" or "Atlas". Yet, few if any topic on wine escapes its pages. I never thought it possible but it rivals the two go-to tomes on my shelf: The World Atlas of Wine and The Oxford Companion to Wine--perhaps even surpassing both.

Want to know about French oak forests and barrel-making? It's there. Biodynamics? Yup. Grape varietals? Check. Wine tasting methodology? Covered. Viticulture, including pruning methods and grape ripening? Yes. Terroir? You bet.

But the meat of the book are the chapters detailing the world's winegrowing regions with visually illustrative maps and color photographs of vineyards and producers. Major and smaller wine regions are treated with equal passion. Mediterranean countries with long winegrowing histories--Croatia, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Lebanon, Israel, Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco--are discussed well, instead of skipped over as in other books.

But what I love most of all is pages are crammed with information. Sidebars highlight key topics as the confusing German Wine Law, obscure regions as the Coteaux de Pierrevert in Provence, acreage of each appellation in the Cote de Beaune and Cote de Nuits, and sustainable winegrowing trends in California.

Edited by Andre Domine, who has been a contributor to the Culinaria series, and authored by him and seventeen other wine writers, this is a masterful wine book that is hard to put down despite its heft.


Wine
Edited by Andre Domine
Published 2008 H.F. Ullmann $59.95

Brachetto and Cherries

At the midweek tasting this week I am pouring an utterly gorgeous wine from Piedmont, the Brachetto d'Acqui DOCG I Ronchetti from Casa Martelletti.

Brachetto, a grape varietal native to the Piedmont region, produces a light, bubbly, sweet red wine prized for its fragrance and fruity, refreshing taste. Fashionable in the nineteenth-century, Brachetto almost disappeared in the twentieth-century, replaced in the vineyards by the more productive Barbera. Fortunately a handful of Piemonte growers stuck to it, and by the late twentieth-century a revival was on the way.

Yesterday, I was tasting the Brachetto with a group of customers, including my friend Ben, whose knowledge and instinct on wine and food have always inspired me. Brachetto ranges in flavors from light strawberries to a dark cherry and plum style like the I Ronchetti. We were all captivated by it and everyone left the store with a bottle in tow, including Ben (2 bottles). The fragrance was like fading rose petals. Its ethereal effervescence made the fruity flavors dance in the mouth. A really joyful wine.

I love sipping it as aperitif with fresh stone-fruits like apricots and white peaches. Ben suggested pairing with sauteed or poached salmon. I also like to drink Brachetto after a big meal. Light and low in alcohol, its pure, fresh flavors invigorate the palate.

The Brachetto made us think about the wonderful cherries in season right now. For the past few weeks I've been coming early to our local farmers' market to shop for cherries. If there were a cherry vintage chart, this year and last year would be 100 points.

My favorite are Bing cherries, named for an Oregonian Chinese-American who helped develop the cultivar. Large, plump, and sweet, Bings are the king of cherries. Ben said to put them in iced water to make them extra crunchy. When I got home last night I did just that. Immersed in iced water for twenty minutes or so, the Bings firmed up and crackled in my mouth as I bit into each one. The thick flesh teasingly released a sweet, refreshing juice that made me remember the cool glass of fizzy Brachetto I enjoyed earlier in the day.

Believing in Burgundy

"Burgundy is a gift that I have yet to receive." To paraphrase Robert Langdon, Angels & Demons


A roomful of us Burgundy believers turned up last Friday to eagerly partake of well-kept bottles from Burgundy's dismal years, as well as from better vintages that supposedly should have been consumed years ago. No problem, all the wines showed beautifully, perhaps even too beautifully as to be un-Burgundian in the case of one.

I think it's clear, the wine gods made Burgundy a matter of belief. Those who choose to believe in Burgundy's terroirs and producers, instead of depending on vintage charts and scores, are infinitely rewarded and go straight to heaven.

But what is the point of that old bottle of Jerez, er Sherry, atop the page if the topic of the post is about Burgundy? (No, that's not cooking Sherry!) Aside from looking really dainty on the kitchen counter next to a bunch of chives while dinner is being prepared, why none, except that we actually drank its contents during dinner.





Contrary to prevailing opinions, old and young Burgundy need to be decanted-- vigorously I must say--about seven to eight times (while mumbling prayers for assurance), then watch it bloom in the glass. Previously, I was in the pour-straight-from-the-bottle Burgundy camp, until I met Ben, the prophet of decanting. In the decanters above, the 1983 DRC Echézeaux and the 1984 DRC Grands Echézeaux.





Some caught a whiff of oxidation in the modest village 1985 Joseph Drouhin Chassagne-Montrachet right after it was uncorked, but fortunately I didn't when I arrived later. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. Golden straw colored. Pronounced scents of lime, mineral, and nutmeg with slight petrol. Toothsome citrus and pastry crust flavors. Slick and fresh in the mouth with lots of energy still.





This bacon number is genius! Crisped, fatty bites that went perfectly with the Chassagne.





I like René Engel. The domaine's flagship is Clos de Vougeot but here we have two of its Grands Echézeaux, the 1988 and 1990. To my mind the domaine's style is somewhat rustic and certainly old-fashioned. The 1990 Grands Echézeaux has a touch of VA, but not too obtrusive. I really think 1990 Burgundies trade off some purity for a dark ripeness prone to funk. But Engel reined it in well enough so his 1990 is edible as always. Dark, ripe cherry fruit, with a touch of wildness that gets better and better on the palate. The 1988 Grands Echézeaux had a metallic, toasted caramel funky nose, but the flavors were vivid and luscious. I prefer the elegance and clarity of this to the 1990





What is wine without the proper food to match? Steve did a great job on this braised beef ribs with a side of polenta cheese. Beef and Burgundy, what a classic matchup!





Speaking of Clos de Vougeot, another wine we enjoyed with dinner was Jean Gros' 1994 Clos de Vougeot "Grand Maupertuis". Made by Jean's son Michel Gros. So youthful. With a cherry nose and bright, fruity flavors, offering lusciousness, balance, and depth. Bags of life ahead. Among the off-vintages--like 1991, 1998, 2000, 2001--1994 is the forgotten one.





The cheese spread was awesome. When you're drinking old Burgundy you gotta have a great cheese spread. We needed this for the venerable highlights of the evening.





Is there a wine critic that ever gave the 1984 DRC Echézeaux a chance? Yet, this has all the attributes of a fine Burgundy. Bright, fresh cherry scents, with rose petals and underbrush. Lifted but not angular. The brightness has a luscious fruit core capturing the wine's delicacy and marvelous elegance.





The 1983 DRC Grands Echézeaux is like a big brother to the '84 DRC Ech. Clearly broader, darker, and more muscular. Rosewood and black cherries on the nose. Sweet, potent, and powerful. Tasting of crushed cherries laced with sweet spices like cinnamon and cloves. Which one was better, this or the '84? I can't decide. I was lucky to be drinking both.





The "Lovers' Wine" according to Episode 2 of the Japanese wine drama, Kami no Shizuku, is Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses, perhaps the most seductive of all Burgundies. Its sweetnes is irresistible. The 1971 Comte Georges de Vogüe Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses is simply a sensational wine. Its rapturous cherry blossom fragrance intensifies in the glass, becoming almost overpowering as it blooms. I tasted the pure sweetness of a perfectly ripened cherry; it felt light on the palate, its delicacy like rice paper. This seemingly fragile wine radiates a prettiness that is just overwhelming.

Burgundians are uneasy with perfection. They don't like a wine that is too pretty. I remember Pierre-Henri Gagey, head of Jadot, make this remark when he was presiding over a tasting of 1999s, a great vintage like 1971 and 2002, the flawless vintage of Les Amoureuses in Episode 2 of Kami no Shizuku. In fact, this Burgundian psyche is well captured in Episode 2, where the preferred vintage of the great wine collector, Kanzaki-san, was not the flawless 2002 but the imperfect 2001.

"Heaven, Earth, Human"--together they create a masterpiece, according to Kami no Shizuku. The "Human" element signifies the labor required to make a great wine from a difficult year. Issei, the egotistical wine expert, picked the flawless 2002, but Shizuku, our unassuming hero, chose the winner, the imperfect 2001. I think this also illustrates how wine critics get it wrong. Life imitating art. Our imperfect 1983, 1984, and 1994 Burgundies were very charming and don't take a backseat to vintages like 1971, 1988, and 1990.





Done with the Burgundies, we go back to what I mentioned at the outset, the Gonzalez, Byass 1847 Solera Sherry. Gonzalez Byass still bottles an 1847 Solera Sherry to this day, but of course current bottles are not the same as this one we drank. Over time, very little of the oldest vintages dating back to 1847 go into later bottlings. Ben's 1847 Solera Sherry is a very old bottle, exactly how old, I don't know, but it's one of the early bottlings. A Cream Sherry, it is sweet with an intense caramel, balsam wood smell and delicious flavors of butterscotch, flan, and almonds that coat the palate for a considerable length of time. Sherry is one of the greatest wines, but why it's so overlooked, it's hard to say.

For a postre at the end, the 1994 Quinta do Vesuvio Vintage Port was a massive treat. Sensuous nose of violets, plums, and blueberries. Gorgeous flavors of sweet blackberries, cherries, and milk chocolate, compounded by a soft, velvety texture. Resistance was futile.