Birthdays Come True

For Kate Middleton, dreams come true, princes marry commoners like Cinderella. Love stories still swoon the world. Fairytales do come true. Now, with spring in the air, azaleas raging bloom, will my Birthday wish come true? I didn't think turning 30 would bother me so much. It did on the eve of my last night in my 20s. With my baby girl tucked away in bed with visions of sugar plum fairies hopefully dancing in her head, I sat at my desk in all my state of fatigue and mustered up the will to dream.

The days get shorter with punctuated moments of relief, the chores pile high, the demands seep in where your cozy thoughts cower, hiding from the cacaphony ever threatening to conquer your reason. To erase, for a moment, the outside world and just think, what do I want? What would fulfill me from within, burst forth, and shout to the world: Here I am! Quickly, I just think, I want to read a book on historic romances, like Diana and her young Henry in the castle of Chenonceau. Or flip through moving poetry, pour over Eustache Deschamps and Geoffrey Chaucer, ponder the satire of Le Miroir de Mariage or the beginnings of iambic pentameter.

Noooo, instead I must study in every spare moment. I dream to be enraptured by wine at a level where expertise commands respect. I want to be a Master of something, namely wine. So, I march on to the tune of my birthday song. What a party it was, friends of yesterday come aglow, martinis clinking to the chatter of wine free-flow. The 1977 Magnum of Dow's Port, perfectly paired with chocolate and blue cheese smatterings. Even the Inflourescence Champagne was unforgettable, next to my birthday dinner at Palena where a 2005 Guigal Brune et Blonde came to visit after Kim Crawford's 2006 Central Otago Pinot Noir.

The cupcake confections linger wantonly everyday another bite of cookies n' cream pure delight. The 2004 Chateau Montrose roused the band, with cheerings of full-bodied cocoa, coffee, chimney-sweep scents packed in lovely textured tannin sippings. Mmmmm, my birthday was one for the decade to be sure. Now, to move on and focus, the goal is not yet within reach, but as Confuscius said it does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.

How to make my birthday wish come true?....dare to dream, and dream BIG. Master of Wine will I greet you the next decade birthday bash? I venture to take heart, birthday wishes do come true. And I am determined, settling in to my long lost friend...my imagination.

2004 Clos du Marquis Saint-Julien
Herbaceous, cocoa, bitter upfront, needed to open more. Delivered rustic mouthfeel. 2nd wine of Leoville Las Cases. Supple though, through and through, backed with power, bit of cassis, not singing to me really, a bit too bitter.

2006 Chateau Talbot Saint-Julien
So accessible even though quite young. Velvety smooth, bodacious red fruits, chimney place in my living room, cold ash murmurings, refreshing--mouth-watering, balanced acidity, black fruits rampant, chocolate dustings. Mouth-smacking.

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Garden Preoccupation

The time of year is here, the roomie and I anxiously anticipate harvesting the fruits of her labor from her plotted terrace in the backyard. All winter long we've thoughtfully added to the compost pile with our recyclable wastes. Creating, we hope, a garden to be envied. Never do you taste vegetables and fruits so fresh, then when plucked ripe from your own tilled earth. Squash, carrots, melons, peas, greens of chard, lettuce, spinach, peppers, tomatoes, strawberries, assorted herbs....mmmm. My mind is turning with images of recipes churning from our homey kitchen. The only trick is to keep the roving hound, Stella, out of the heaping mounds of glorious dirt--great for digging I presume, and wolfing down scrumptious, succulent veggies.

Last night, poignant memories of garden goodness instilled indelible tastes in my mouth while I salivated over an aged Rioja. Paired with a simple whole wheat rotini pasta tossed with zuchhini, tomatoes, red peppers, and pecorino cheese, my 2003 Baron de Ley Rioja Reserva, imported by Frederick Wildman, wrapped flavors of garden fresh aromatics around my olfactory senses. As the words flow, images of fresh turned soil penetrate savory reminisce of dill, tomato leaf, and sun-tanned fruits. So good on which to finish a Thursday night after Ab Ripper X and a long, hard week of Tony Horton, my goal of P90X.

Nose your Spring Fragrance

Le Nez du Vin: Spring Series

When speaking of aromas, wine blesses us with a myriad of fragrant bouquets. How to interpret these smells and identify them with savvy wine speak remains the elusive gift wine-o’s spend a lifetime attempting to master. So, what is in a nose of wine, and what does that really mean? Why do wine critics write florid descriptions in wine reviews that read to the tune of: soft, velvety, rich in chocolate, blackberry and smoky oak flavor? How does wine, an alcoholic beverage, exhibit flavors of fruit, spice, wood, herbs, and flowers?

First, let’s start with the primary organ of taste, your tongue. The human tongue detects five primary tastes—acidity, bitterness, saltiness, sweetness, and umami, or savoryness. When molecules from food or wine touch the palette, they bind to receptors specific to each taste. Acids set off sour receptors, sugars trigger sweet receptors, etc. With the survival of the fittest in mind, humans have evolved to like sweet tastes, since sugars/starches provide primary sources of calories. On the other hand, poisons taste bitter, so humans harbor distaste towards bitter flavors. Perceptions can be altered, though, and tastes can be acquired; the very phenomenon that takes place when an adolescent sips coffee or wine for the first time. Over time, as a youth matures and repeatedly exposes him- or herself to certain flavors, acquired tastes are born.

The tongue supplies only part of the story, the nose completes the picture with the sense of smell. Taste buds determine the degree to which something is salty, sweet, sour, bitter, or umami; but, the nose qualitatively assesses thousands of smells that the brain computes into words. Molecules giving rise to flavors and aromas are volatile, meaning they pass easily into the gas state. When you sniff or sip a wine, the volatile flavor molecules waft through your nasal passages to the olfactory bulb where they are interpreted. A wine becomes one dimensional if your sense of smell is incapacitated, like when you have a stuffy nose.

Putting the technical talk aside, this process fails to explain why aromas of chocolate, cherries and blueberries spill forth from a glass of Malbec. Little attention do we pay to the thousands of aromas we “visually” memorize. A vanilla bean smells like vanilla because an ester molecule called “vanillin” gives the bean its characteristic smell. When considering wines, the aromas depicted originate from the grape varietal itself, yeast fermentation and the chemical reactions incurred while wine ages in a bottle. The resulting aromas are the same compounds found throughout nature, just in smaller quantities, and out of context. Pass a blueberry plate under your nose before sniffing Malbec, your chances of identifying hues of blueberries will increase. But swirl a little Malbec without the presence of a blueberry plate and see if you pull out blueberry. It’s there, just out of our vernacular reach.

Aroma molecules in wine span the families of fruit, spices, herbs, flowers, minerals, earth, and more. Consider Sauvignon Blanc, for instance. This white wine commonly exhibits ester molecules that dominate the following organic forms of life: bell pepper, tomato leaf, asparagus, grapefruit, gooseberry and passion fruit. How to train your brain to identify aromas present in your glass remains the ultimate talent. Practice proves best. I recommend lots of wine tasting. Common aroma groups repeatedly occur in every grape species. For instance, Merlot gives plum, Cabernet Sauvignon boasts currants, Pinotage reveals tar, and Pinot Noir renders mushrooms and cherries. This month at Red, White and Bleu Wine Shop in Falls Church, I host the first aroma class of a series: Le Nez du Vin. Thursday evening April 21^st feel free to attend the Spring Series. We will pair every one off and blind fold you for a short time to taste you on foods you can’t visualize: a brain boot camp of sorts! Spring aromas and flavors will be a focus. Fruits, greens, and herbs sourced from the local Farmer's Markets will be sniffed in their natural states, followed by a wine tasting of wines which exhibit the selected scents. Aroma education proves humbling, but great fun is definite! Phone the shop for more information 703.533.9463 or email me at oenophile81@gmail.com

Savor with Savigny-les-Beaune

 

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Mouth-watering cheese and wine pair: Abbaye de Belloc partnered with a savoury Savigny-les-Beaune, Burgundy Pinot Noir. Tucked away in the Cote de Beaune region of France, nestled up against a hillside southwest of the famed vineyards of Aloxe-Corton, sits a region known as Savigny-les-Beaune. Great value pinot noirs leave this commune boasting silky, supple tannins and soft berry fruit. The mixture of flavors perfectly swell your mouth with luscious hints of violets, black cherry, blackcurrant, spice, leather, and crinkly autumn leaves--the crinkle texture sprouts from the high acid levels in the pinots.

Benedictine monks from the Notre-Dame de Belloc artfully craft the Abbaye de Belloc, a French Pyrenee's sheep's milk cheese sporting rich texture and high fat. Truly Basque in nature, the cheese calls for an elegant Bordeaux or a dense Madiran, but I had Pinot fixation in mind this night (and Pinot tasting notes to write). So, I grabbed three different Savigny-les-Beaune Pinots from vintage 2008. The acidity levels and soft fruits took on the rich, semi-hard cheese, melting it in your mouth. Highly recommend a fresh baguette! Enjoy.

Wine Pigs, First Spin

The wine biz is a difficult industry for a woman. The same is true of the restaurant world, and the two are intimately entwined. I know the next few sentences might upset a few, but I wouldn't lay down a tale untrue. With stereotypes in mind and the knowledge of exceptions to the rule, mind your judgement and assess the story laid before you.

The past ten years of my life, I navigated the rat race of indecent proposals, profanity, butt pinching, breast brushing, chef snickers, scandalous sex rumors, vulgar come-ons, lude bartenders, drugs, booze, rage-devoured male managers, chefs, or owners, holier-than-thou male wine aficionados, (clearing of throat) excuse me, experts. Then to boot, a culture conducive to women with something to prove. The truth be told, I count on one hand the genuine gentleman I have encountered, a rare species to behold.

On a tame note, most male sommeliers and masters of wine prove to be sophisticated, fun, intriguing, intelligent, cultured, and perhaps a bit eccentric with an underlying arrogance, small doses or brazen, depends on each man and what he holds within. I don't know any masters of their craft who aren't somewhat arrogrant, pride is warranted where reverance is due. I'll never forget the ultimate snub when a famed MW turned his back on me in mid conversation to greet the male bartender at a restaurant where he was to dine that evening. With allegiance to reputable behavior, I paused giving him the benefit of the doubt, waiting for the admirable "Pardon Me," but I finally resorted to awkward interjection. He promptly ignored my interlude and rudely forged on to exclude me, mighty important talk it was too. With this instance in mind and countless others, I have come to the careful conconclusion that most men in the biz unconsciously or knowingly dismiss the female palette.

This tale to be told, though, has hope waiting to unfold, as I've found an oasis in the sludge pool of self-important male wine-Os. Many trips I do take to the house of Wine Pigs, a name they've been dubbed by friends of old. Iowa-farmboy-liquor-retailer meets master-mind lawyers, bonified wine salesmen, and little ol' me: just a gal into wine virtuoso. Greedy they are not. Male, and true to form with all their sexual inuendos they are. Doesn't matter, I enjoy their company and the vino experience they so graciously share in exchange for female flare. Rare form I sit, watching them weave their tales of extraordinary sips, wines of bygone eras, days of Bordeaux fetching prices shockingly low. Stock market numbers, chefs ever so bold, memoirs of friends passing to be told, voice volume rumbles as the cheese and wine flow.

With casual friends sharing the same plot in life, undying love for God's given grape lots, I have to say I will share many escapades to Chevy Chase where the Wine Pigs gather to slop. On this particular day we opened:

2007 Domaine de Baumard Trie Speciale Savennieres
One of my favs, Chenin Blanc, kissed with oak. Full body mouth delivery expressing quince paste, apple and hazelnuts, the perfect cue for a picnic lunch. Unique to describe, the acid hides under a layer of viscous aged notes, almost like oxidized but not, just a quality of this particular type found in the region of Anjou on the banks of the Loire. Savennieres produce amazing age-worthy whites loaded with sapidity, acidity and extract. The flavor that throws me a loop is ripe grain mixed with grapefruit.

2003 Chateau Destieux Saint-Emilion Grand Cru
Woah boy, heavy, heavy on first impact, made me immediately think aggressive oak. This is a chateau that did not make the 1996  Grand Cru classification, but was incorporated in 2006. Interesting notes of coffee, plum, polished tannin, dark chocolate, maybe even some cedar box, but OAK, OAK and more OAK. Not my style, but riveting none-the-less. So aggressive I thought, which would mellow with something bold, like lamb, venison stew, or just a big ol' slab of ribeye done up for two.

2004 Cos d'Estournel Saint-Estephe
I asked the head Wine Pig to bring me Les Pagodes de Cos, but he refused on the grounds that we had too little time to lose. The highlight booze for sure. Definite finesse, less upfront aggression, which surprised me as Saint-Estephe tends to be blockbuster. Superb tannin palette-feel, lingering finish with that intoxicating melange of Indian spice that I just don't quite "get" yet--hard for me to depict distinct aromas. Cocoa dusting, red and black fruits galore. Expertly integrated oak, still young, but loved this. My kind of wine, so my love affair with Cos d'Estournel lives on lingering in the atmosphere of classics that never die young.

2007 Gould Campbell Vintage Porto
the whammy I had to guzzle so I could hit the beltway before mad rush hour set in. Just saying, port is a dying trend, but with the right pushing I think it could swing back around again. I'm tired of restaurant lists with poor selections. In a perfect world, grape utopia, I could stand to give lessons on Madeira and Porto. I wish entrepreneurs would dare to give in and make low margins on after dinner drinks, the sweet wines few care to "get." Wishful hoping, who knows what the leprechaun might bring? But back on track, the notes for Port. Rich, rich, rich, with layers of tannic grip. Blueberries on the rise, way too young to appreciate, yet great bang to finish on.

Ciao, till I write again...

Daybreak to Wine Love

Day break instills vivid impressions and bright inspirations. Daybright light--piercing color tones--probes dark corners of fading dreams, warms the household and grants promising hopes for the day ahead. A quick peak through the blinds: yellow daffodils smile at morning break, robins hop to broken chirps of song, deep breaths bring crisp, cool air, washing reminders of yesterday away. Pristine thoughts increase as I gaze on the earth stretching, giving one last yawn. If only I could forever capture the morning dawn.

Little did I know the tale about to be told: a recording of vintage interspersed with a love of old. 2002 Brunello di Montalcino, reportedly a sad year to behold, gives way to a startling account of poor quality inflated to stardom as context unfolds. The love of which I speak is none other than a relationship gone sour, yet continuously teetering as a love story never so bold.

Affairs of the heart are truly one of a kind, each to their own, exceptions all count, perceptions dilute, beginnings forgotten, ends eager and wanton. To speak plainly, my heart aches for a man I once had. A pain double-sided with desire on one side battling rational conscience on the other. Forgive and forget? Or move on with acceptance, constantly recalling hurtful deceipts, selfish acts, and lusty betrayals? Remembering my actions wanes deeply on my soul, giving in to temptation's threshold.

After a day spent lingering on romantic fantasies of how to rescind paths taken, the convoluted reality revealed itself during a simple tasting of organic Brunello. The night was late, the wine still young. Best friends convened having loads of fun. The mood was set, my spirits soared, freedom crashed my tranquil shore. Wine flowed, gossip flung, giggling girls poked fun, flirtatious rants with cute servers dared to be flung. Now with this in mind, I must reveal the hopeful vino poured by an owner wishful for my attentions still. In the moment, the 2002 San Polino Brunello di Montalcino exploded sweet swills. Nothing could make me more happy than the sexy aromas tip-toeing around the sensors within my nose. In the heat of the moment, excitement too palpable to quench the languid lackings of this wine and all its mid-drift packings. 

2002 San Polino Brunello di Montalcino promises fresh fruits, torrents of plum, and a hint of sun-dried tomato, vine-ripened with soft, powdery tannins from an organic run. Production persists amongst the hills southeast of Montalcino, where the climate approaches warmer pockets delivering luscious, mouth-puckering wine bits. But, lo and behold, the mid-palate went slush, leaving no room for fuss, tragically ending in simple disgust.

The aromatics still soared, so everything else I chose to ignore, because nothing in this moment could give rise to scorn. I missed the man I once knew, the man I once had, everything else left unsaid, nothing to brag. Now I know a lesson to be told. A wine can pose as something breathtaking and carouse, depending upon the company and context the drinking aroused. This resolves a riddle confounding my soul. Merriment is a choice, perception is reality. What could be more morose?

Now you'll know, truth be told, when you return from Italy with memories of gold and no wine in the shops here in the States compare, nothing is remiss, you just had something you'll forever miss: a moment of bliss enveloped in vino...