Stunning travelogue and recipe collection of this most majestic region of Europe. I lived in France's Savoie region, and hiking in Italy's Alto Adige Stunning travelogue and recipe collection of this most majestic region of Europe. I lived in France's Savoie region, and hiking in Italy's Alto Adige has long been in my top-5 travel dreams; I love the wines of these regions. The Alpine cuisine is a generally too heavy and dairy-laden for my system, but in small doses it's omg. But I enjoyed this massive tome less for the recipes and more for the stories of this gasp-worthy mountaintop, storybook part of the world that I so dearly love- Alpine Europe. ...more
During culinary school, I completed a stint in the kitchen of a high-end restaurant, and another working "front of house." As much as I love cooking, During culinary school, I completed a stint in the kitchen of a high-end restaurant, and another working "front of house." As much as I love cooking, I knew the heat of the restaurant kitchen was too much for me - the tension and tempers, the egos and emotions were a potent recipe for high blood pressure and burnout.
By contrast, some of the most rewarding shifts I've worked were as a restaurant server. I completed my culinary certificate and went on to do extensive wine/beer/spirits training, ultimately becoming a wine buyer and sommelier. The resort where I worked as a somm had both a traditional restaurant and a substantive catering/conference division, so I saw both aspects: fine dining from a seasonally-inspired menu that changed nightly, and the private, catered affairs with open bars and Sterno lamps.
Catering pretty much sucks. At least that's my opinion, fortified not just by my restaurant experience, but by all those summers in college working banquets for my university's busy conference roster. The camaraderie is sweet � you're part of a fast-moving team and time flies � but there's so little satisfaction in serving food to distracted, intoxicated masses, and very little thanks. You're invisible and so often, just in the way.
The best bits of this book deal with the events the Lee brother chronicle with jaw-dropping anecdotes. Thousands of people served nightly in seemingly flawless fashion, while behind the scenes there is controlled chaos. But the top caterers have their methods down, treating each event like a military campaign. I loved reading how the backstage was set up for these events, in impossible spaces, like a battlefield triage station. To my personal surprise, I found myself wanting to be a part of the kitchen preparation, rather than the service team. Unlike a restaurant dining room, where you develop a relationship with your guests, however brief, at a catered event you just run to get the food out while it's hot or cool, fresh, and run back to get the next load.
Because the Lee brothers didn't actually own a catering company, there wasn't much at risk for them here and the narrative is a bit bland as a result. The book was reportage as curiosity, rather than a breathless memoir of their own careers and financial stability at stake. The delving into the history of catering found me skimming through.
They are most successful in their storytelling in the characters they feature- all the women and men who sweat it out day after day to prepare and serve food at a high-rate of risk, expectation, intensity and speed. Why would anyone choose to run a catering business or work for one? Hotbox pulls back the curtain to offer some reasons....more
Mind-bendingly beautiful, witty, charming homage to mushrooms both humble and exotic. I'm blessed to live in a part of the world where a walk in the wMind-bendingly beautiful, witty, charming homage to mushrooms both humble and exotic. I'm blessed to live in a part of the world where a walk in the woods can net a bounty of comestible 'shrooms and the most exotic of species can be found in our little local co-op, but I've never ventured beyond porcini, shiitake and chanterelle in my own cooking. Lion's Mane, Lobster, Hedgehog, Oyster—gorgeous to look at, but what the hell do I do with them?
Enter 'Shroom. Not only is this ripe with divine and accessible recipes, it's written with incomparable verve and humor. I've had the great pleasure of working with Becky, and her vibrant, funny, warm self shines through in the text. This is as much fun to read as it is gaspingly gorgeous to peruse.
Since it 'Tis the Season, here's a brilliant gift for the chef or culinary historian or mycologist in your life. ...more
Updating 7/11 to add link to ongoing controversy of author's evaluation methods and relationship with Veronica Foods. Draw your own conclusions.
Last Updating 7/11 to add link to ongoing controversy of author's evaluation methods and relationship with Veronica Foods. Draw your own conclusions.
Last week I crossed paths with two food-centric non-fiction books. One, a memoir, written by a famous chef, was set in my favorite place on the planet: Paris. I thought for certain I'd love it. I love memoir. I love Paris. I adore cheffy things. Alas, I kicked it to the curb after the first twenty-five pages.
The other, this book here, this rambling, occasionally pedantic, gushing and ripe-with-hyperbole look at the life and times of olive oil, I slurped up with gusto.
I read in a review of Extra Virginity (and I'll be damned if I can remember where, so apologies for lack of attribution and that I must paraphrase), "...Extra Virginity is proof that subpar non-fiction is always better than subpar fiction." I'd add in subpar memoir. Not even Paris can save lousy writing and arrogant affect. So, yeah, Tom Mueller is no Ruth Reichl or MFK Fisher, but he tells a tale of olive oil with such passion and integrity, it's impossible not to be caught up in the story.
There are a couple of different things going on in Extra Virginity. First and foremost is the investigation into the corrupt world of olive oil production and distribution. Mueller's book was born out of a story that he wrote for The New York Times. The unfortunate thing about a static book is that the book ends, but the story does not. Mueller does not go far enough into the investigation. The corruption he reveals surely penetrates the highest levels of Italian government and possibly EU regulatory entities. There is a greater story, a richer and more rotten one. But Mueller strikes me as a really sweet guy who wants everyone to get along and support best practices by buying only quality olive oil. A worthy goal.
I think he also naïvely and wrongly suggests that olive oil is somehow a world apart from other specialty food items in terms of corruption and scandal. Wine- from grape cultivation to production and distribution - is of particular interest to this oenophile. Unrest assured, the wine world is rife with shady business. Please don't tell me that Trader Joe's is putting $20 bottles of Amarone on its shelves out of the goodness of its heart. Just last week I read of an investigation into Soave producers believed to be adding Riesling to their wines to "spice it up." Sounds harmless, but as Mueller shows, cheating is cheating. Honest producers and consumers pay the price when the integrity of a beautiful food chain is broken.
The other thing at play in Extra Virginity is an unabashed love affair with this storied, sublime food. It is a narrative designed to seduce those enchanted by all things culinary (you know, that icky word, "foodies"). Mueller goes straight for the foodie jugular by painting scenes of the Mediterranean countryside, with Roman ruins and medieval farmhouses set in golden fields, presided over by sun-baked farmers and their round-hipped wives, or by chic, multilingual children who return to the family farm after years in high finance or industrial agronomy to embrace the simple life. Although, it's not so simple. Cultivating olive trees and producing quality oil is hella hard. Expensive. Many farmers tend orchards that they will not live long enough to see into production, hoping to leave a legacy to their families.
Mueller also offers an extensive history of olive cultivation and production and makes a hearty case for olive oil as the world's most perfect food. I found myself not only craving olive oil at many points, but wrinkling my nose with distaste at the clogging, cloying properties of butter and cheese. Can you just imagine? If you've read Extra Virginity, yes, you probably can.
There are some editing problems in Extra Virginity that rankled. The use of the word varietal with grapes, instead of cultivar or variety , mystified me. Varietal is an adjective; variety is a noun. For some inexplicable reason, variety was used correctly when discussing olives, but incorrectly with grapes.
Adjectives and adverbs are flung hither and yon and repeated to eye-rolling effect. The structure of the book seems haphazard, jumping around in theme and style. And, as I noted earlier, much of scandal is left unexplored.
But most importantly, this consumer's eyes were opened and her buying habits were changed. I've cooked with EVOO forever. My husband worked at an olive orchard and oil production facility in New Zealand and brought home buckets of unfiltered liquid gold (okay, liquid green). I've tasted the freshest, most delicious oils I never knew were possible. I understood that olive oil is as nuanced as wine. But really, I had no idea how complex the issues were and how vulnerable the industry is. Now I know what to look for, which questions to ask, and that my choices have consequences, both for my own health and for the health and sustainability of a noble fruit and its by-products. And like wine, I understand there is a great price to be paid when buying cheap olive oil.
ETA/Update: I've discovered that the fancy olive oil shop which opened up in my little village in December is supplied exclusively by Veronica Foods, the Berkeley-based oil purveyor founded by Veronica and Tom Bradley, champions of quality oil. Tom Mueller is a big fan. I can enjoy olive oils from around the world and feel great about my purchases!
Tom Mueller maintains an excellent website that is a must if you are interested in learning more about the options for purchasing quality oils and Mueller's commitment to changing the industry. Bravo.
Ruth Reichl had so much fun writing this novel. I don't know this for a fact, but I sense it in every page. This sweet confection is full of joy. TherRuth Reichl had so much fun writing this novel. I don't know this for a fact, but I sense it in every page. This sweet confection is full of joy. There is not a mean bone in this book's body. There aren't many bones at all, really. You definitely don't need a knife and fork to eat this one, but a large napkin to catch all the drips would be good.
Inspired perhaps by Reichl's days at the venerable food magazine Gourmet before it was summarily shuttered by the publisher, Delicious! is a celebration of New York's food culture and the magic of cooking. A tender-hearted, cozy mystery surrounding correspondence between an Akron, OH pre-teen and the inimitable James Beard during World War II is woven through the modern-day romp through New York City. New York is bathed in a cinematic afterglow - think When Harry Met Sally, as opposed to Dog Day Afternoon.
Delicious! is a little too saccharine for my tastes. The wide-eyed, oatmeal-sweater-wearing, awkward and introverted protagonist, Billie, is 22 going on 14. Her puppy-dog immaturity charms the heck out of those jaded New Yorkers and of course she has a Devil Wears Pradaugly-duckling-to-swan transformation that you see coming from page one. Billie has a secret sorrow but SPOILER ALERT is it awful that I actually guffawed at the image of her sister flying into the air with a tray of cupcakes? I was laughing before I realized that maybe it wasn't supposed to be funny. But a wise and rumpled older man sets Billie straight about her guilt and grief and serves her pancakes in the bathtub. Mmm ....
It's a darling and lovable tale that asks the reader to check all disbelief at the coatroom, pull up a comfy chair, and dig in, ignoring the world for a few hours....more
On a run last week, I saw a hummingbird at rest on the bough of a blackberry bush. Such a rare treat to see this tiny thumb of shimmering green and reOn a run last week, I saw a hummingbird at rest on the bough of a blackberry bush. Such a rare treat to see this tiny thumb of shimmering green and red in repose instead of as a darting blur at the hanging basket of flowers on our front patio. I paused to watch him on the gently swaying bough. In three heartbeats, he was gone.
Provence, 1970 is about recognizing the hummingbird at rest. It is about capturing a moment in time and holding it in freeze frame, before it darts away to catch up with the world. The moment and place and (most of) the players are evident in the book's title. Luke Barr, M.F.K. Fisher's grandnephew and an editor at Travel + Leisure magazine, offers a bird's eye view into a movement on the threshold of change.
The movement is, of course, America's relationship to food. The change afoot in Provence, 1970 is the shift away from European—predominantly French—sensibilities, toward an embrace of the organic, local movements combined with an increasingly global palate.
Food is perhaps the most vibrant reflection of culture and when cultural trends shift, shed and shake, those who influence our taste buds must shift with it, or be pushed back to the dark corners of the kitchen cabinets with the jello molds and fondue pots. Provence, 1970 shows how some of our greatest food icons reconciled their beliefs in the superiority of all things French with the inevitable change in American tastes.
Most tender and intimate is Barr's treatment of M.F.K. Fisher. She is the central character, a women in her sixties on the cusp of a life shift. Her children are grown, her career is comfortable, she is content to be without a husband. But she does need a home. When her house in Napa sells, a friend offers to build her a cottage on his property in Sonoma. She'd long planned to live out her older years in Provence, but now that this time is upon her, she wonders if modern France holds the same magic as the one of her memory. Her months in Provence, while she awaits the construction of the Sonoma house, become a meditation on the acceptance of letting go of the past and embracing a fresh start.
The author's portrayals of M.F., the Childs, James Beard, Richard Olney and numerous secondary players are rich, savory, bitter and sweet. He shows the internal conflicts these talented and passionate chefs and writers wrestle as their relationships to food and France shift and indulges the reader with good old-fashioned gossip as he details their conflicts with each other. Julia's increasingly fraught relationship with her co-author Simone Beck is not news, but Barr shows how it was viewed through the eyes of her contemporaries. He shows what it means to be a snob (Richard Olney), a bon vivant (James Beard), and a sensualist (M.F.K. Fisher) and how a small group of Americans excel at being more French than the French themselves.
And the food. Some of Luke Barr's most delicious, vivid and even hilarious writing is in the descriptions of meals prepared and consumed throughout Provence during these winter months. It is at once a celebration of and a primer on Provençal cuisine, with unparalleled scenery, tart conversation and raw observation to set the mood.
Provence, 1970 shows the beauty of capturing time just at the moment it hovers between the past and the present. Of course, we never realize the importance of such moments until they are long gone. Luke Barr does the nearly impossible: he conjures up the hummingbird and holds it in his hand just long enough for us to recognize the wonder of stillness before change....more
Three and a half stars. I can't quite get to a four.
My food epiphany occurred in France (of course), with food prepared by—wait for it—an Italian (of Three and a half stars. I can't quite get to a four.
I was already half in love with Bruno from Ancona, but when he handed me a bowl of pasta glistening with sea salt and oil and tossed with tuna, capers, tomatoes, and Parmigiano Reggiano, its hangover-killing goodness transported me to a new sort of bliss. It took all of 20 minutes to prepare—most of that was waiting for the water to boil. Simple. And I’d never tasted anything as delicious.
A second light flashed fifteen years later, during culinary school in New Zealand. Pulling several kitchen shifts as part of my course, I realized the chef’s life was not for me. I hated the heat, the pressure, the clothing. My place was front of house, with the diners. As an introvert who loves a crowd, I adored the two-hour relationship with my tables, the way we could swap life stories over lamb shank and wine and, usually, never see one another again. It was the sharing of delicious food and the way the diners turned themselves over to me—trusting, expectant, curious, and delighted—that I treasured.
So, it was very easy to connect with Gabrielle Hamilton at the most visceral level. The psychology of beautiful food—the way it feeds our souls at least as much as our bodies, I get. It was even a vocation for a spell, from that glorious era in New Zealand where I waited tables and taught Hospitality, to the several years I spent working in Seattle as a wine and beer buyer and steward.
As someone who can’t tell a joke at a dinner table to save her life, but who feels the wonder of words in her soul and astonishment that she can weave them together in powerful ways, I connected with Gabrielle Hamilton as a writer. She made me feel better that my treasured acceptance to an MFA program this fall will go no further than a dream pinned to my bulletin board. Hamilton accepted that her soul needed the pan rather than the pen. Like me, she’s a doer, not a scholar.
This connection to her craft, born of nature and desperation, is the most powerful theme in Blood, Bones, and Butter. Hamilton's family celebrated food and loved to party. From her French mother she learned to cook and to revere the process; from her father she learned the crazy sort of joy that comes from opening your home and feeding the masses with fishes and loaves.
The desperation came when that family split apart, scattering like dandelion spores to the wind. The author entered the back door of the restaurant world, tethering herself to dishwashers and prep sinks as a way to create stability while her adolescence was crumbling beneath her.
But I never quite trust her. Memoir is an eel—it’s either going to slip through your hands or shock you (or both, as with Blood, Bones, and Butter). The danger for the contemporary memoirist comes in offering up course after course of one’s life as a collection of tasty facts, then dropping the plates when realty catches up and bites you in the ass.
Around the time of the book’s publication, Hamilton appeared on “The Interview Show� and dismissed foodies as "a population that has kind of misplaced priorities." Granted, “foodies� is a tired moniker, but it’s an odd thing for a chef to give the finger to her most ardent fans. In the same interview, Hamilton declares "I'm barely interested in food....I love food but I don't like to talk about it very long."
Kinda weird. This tone of contrariness and defensiveness echoes in her writing, most notably during her years in Ann Arbor as she pursues her MFA at the University of Michigan and when she takes us down the short but winding road of her personal relationships. I ran often into the brick wall of Hamilton’s ego, erected and fortified against deep insecurities.
I was also perplexed by her marriage. Not the doing of it� she wouldn’t be the first to extend a generous hand to someone at odds with the INS. But she seemed baffled to find that love wasn’t waiting for her on the other side of the aisle. And yet, she stepped out on her long-term girlfriend to have a brief affair with her husband-to-be. And she cuckolded her own sister while writing this memoir. Hamilton’s disappointment felt very disingenuous, given her proclivity for infidelity.
I was also troubled by her mother-as-martyr routine. She chose to have two children, twenty months apart, with a man she was neither living with nor, if she is to be believed, hardly speaking to, all while in the early years of running a restaurant. These were choices. She had options, could have sought help, could have organized her life differently. She did not and I respect that. But her natural prickliness and independence read to me like a whole lotta “I’m such a badass, cooking brunch at thirty-nine weeks� self-back patting. It seems to run counter to her belief that we shouldn’t talk about “great female chefs,� we should talk about “great chefs,� period. A discussion, incidentally, that makes of one of the best chapters in the book.
Hamilton isn’t clear why she remained in a loveless marriage, nor why she drifted so far from her family, so the reader has a shadowy grasp on Gabrielle Hamilton, the woman.
But in all fairness, this is the memoir of a chef. Touching on her two years abroad, on her summers in Italy with her now ex-husband’s family, her epiphany while working with the inscrutable Misty in Michigan, and her hardcore catering experiences, Gabrielle Hamilton—the chef and the writer—is a remarkable force. I’d welcome the chance to eat at Prune and the opportunity to read more of her sparkling, no-holds-barred, angry, irreverent, and sexy writing. But I’d rather read it as fiction, because I think I might choke on her facts. ...more
This isn't one those books about which you would ever say "Oh yeah, I read that." It is a beautifully packaged and presented tome of 1241 pages about This isn't one those books about which you would ever say "Oh yeah, I read that." It is a beautifully packaged and presented tome of 1241 pages about 1368 grape varieties used at some point or another to make wine. There are in fact roughly 10,000 vine varieties, representing some six dozen species. Wine Maven Jancis Robinson and her editorial colleagues restrict themselves to those varieties used in the commercial production (historical or modern) of wine.
At $175 a pop, this is serious wine geek territory.
The book is gorgeous but oh heavens, is that some small font! Arranged alphabetically, Wine Grapes gives a brief description of each variety, its origins and parentage, viticultural characteristics, where it's grown and what its wine tastes like. Brilliant. Totally Brilliant. Length of content varies - the section on PINOT, which has a large number of clonal variations, goes on for pages; Sary Pandas ("Old Ukranian variety planted mainly in the south of the country for dessert wines") merits half a page.
There are sumptuously rendered paintings (copies, natch) of many of the most common varieties and tri-fold family tree style diagrams of important variety pedigrees.
This is about as crazy-beautiful as wine guides get. It's a lifetime of information and a reading labor of love for those who are enchanted by wine.
I see and hear over and over again wine professionals who really should know better using varietal when they mean variety. I see it on winery websites, in wine professionals' blogs, in magazines, store shelf talkers, and hear it used incorrectly almost daily by sales people who bring wine to my office.
Okay, phew. Rant over. Pour yourself of a glass of Inzolia (a nutty Sicilian white) and dive into Wine Grapes. Just don't ask me to pull you out. ...more
For avowed wine geeks only, as Goode and Harrop deal with the specifics of viticulture and vinification. But you don't need to be a practicing farmer For avowed wine geeks only, as Goode and Harrop deal with the specifics of viticulture and vinification. But you don't need to be a practicing farmer or winemaker to appreciate their explanations, opinions and narrative. The accessible, friendly writing is free of jargon, the opinions well-reasoned. This is becoming one of my favorite resources to reference for an understanding of the principles of sustainable grape growing and winemaking practices. ...more
A follow-up to their 2006 reference & pairing guide What to Drink With What You Eat, Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg offer this labor of love. It's aA follow-up to their 2006 reference & pairing guide What to Drink With What You Eat, Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg offer this labor of love. It's a sweeping overview of the world of fine wine that approaches wine from many different angles: historical, sensory, aesthetic, practical. True to their mission of desnobbing the art and process of wine appreciation, Page and Dornenburg write in an engaging, accessible style.
I appreciate their tackling of the matter of taste and agree that quality can be measured objectively but preference is in the palate of the beholder.
This guide is perhaps most useful to someone in the early-intermediate stages of understanding wine, but still serves as a valuable reference to any wine lover.
The single best wine + food reference I have read. Andrew Dornenburg and Karen Page- a husband and wife power duo with heaps of experience in and accoThe single best wine + food reference I have read. Andrew Dornenburg and Karen Page- a husband and wife power duo with heaps of experience in and accolades from the world of fine wine and dining - want nothing more than to evangelize the joy of beautiful food and drink, in combination! They make the pairing experience accessible and fun, but still challenge the reader to experiment, to break out of the "white wine with fish, red wine with steak" rut.
This is an indispensable reference, divided into two primary sections: What to drink with what you eat & What to eat with what you drink. Their approach is incredibly comprehensive, but the editorial content is engaging and demystifying. This will be my go-to guide professionally and personally. And for $2.99 on i-tunes, there IS an app for that!
Beautiful presentation featuring simple, classic recipes that are authentic, yet don't require exotic ingredients. Because of their simplicity, the reBeautiful presentation featuring simple, classic recipes that are authentic, yet don't require exotic ingredients. Because of their simplicity, the recipes require the freshest of ingredients. They are inherently healthy and balanced. In the two days I've had the cookbook, I've made three recipes. Each beautiful! I can easily envision cooking my way through the entire book. Wonderful introductions to each recipe, describing its origins and/or significance to Wells. Fantastic wine recommendations. So, true confession: The Provençal Cookbook features recipes from my most cherished spot on the planet; I'm predisposed to love anything Provençal. But Wells has captured its magic without playing on cliches or trivializing traditions....more
Once upon a time, in the fabled Land of Milk and Honey (1970's California), the Knights (and a few Maidens) of Vitis Vinifera vowed to champion beautiOnce upon a time, in the fabled Land of Milk and Honey (1970's California), the Knights (and a few Maidens) of Vitis Vinifera vowed to champion beautiful wines that would express the true nature of the golden slopes and coastal valleys they called home. They armed themselves with degrees from the UC Davis Department of Viticulture and Enology, they pulled stints in wine shops and wineries, they met to taste the great wines of the world, sharpening their palates on Bordeaux and Burgundies, Rieslings and Champagnes. They shared and stumbled together, battling the dragons of weather, pestilence, fungus, financial woes, burnout and poor judgment to create a stunning array of wines that would be celebrated across the world (I write of the legendary Judgment of Paris, at which a host of California wines bested French labels in a blind tasting in 1976).
Then one day a great shadow fell over the land. A cunning sorcerer - bearing the benign moniker of Robert Parker - and his sipping sycophants - writers for Wine Spectator - sidled on to the scene. Slinging arrows in the shape of 100-point scale scores, these sorcerers cast a spell over the land, causing the people to believe that quality wine was plush, plummy, velvety, overripe, oak-laden, high-alcohol jam that bore no distinguishing characteristics of the terroir from whence it came. The people were deceived and began to shell out premium coin for ripe and fruity plonk. The Knights of Vitis Vinifera fell to their knees, proclaiming allegiance to the Dark Lords of High Scores. They were rewarded with riches beyond imagination.
The Court Jester, Randall Grahm, and the Court Wizard, Leo McCloskey become the central characters in this tale. The former, the iconic proprietor of Bonny Doon Vineyard and erstwhile owner of Pacific Rim, Cardinal Zin and Big House wines, took a tangled route through the California wine industry. He baffled and beguiled his counterparts, critics and devotees by reaching for the sun with his wings barely glued to his back. He grew everything, everywhere, experimenting with varietals, sites and techniques in an astonishing display of fearlessness. His odd pockets of vineyards grew into an empire of brands and Grahm - through his prolific newsletters and showboat style- became the tail that wagged the dog. A master of marketing which grossly overshadowed the quality of his wine in the heady days the 90's, Grahm at last returned to his original, earnest goal of creating artisanal wines that speak of the true terroir of California. He is now a champion of biodynamic processes, committed to restoring winemaking to a craft of nature respectfully managed- not manipulated- by man.
Leo McCloskey, a contemporary of Grahm's, was a young, gifted scientist and winemaker who guided storied Ridge Vineyards to worthy acclaim. He pursued a doctorate in chemical ecology at UC Davis and Santa Cruz, and earned his reputation as a skilled winemaker and consultant. McCloskey recognized early that the rapid and massive growth of the California wine industry needed savvy businesspeople to manage the aspirations of idealistic entrepreneurs. He studied the ascending importance of Robert Parker, editor of The Wine Advocate and the world's most renowned wine critic, and of the luxury magazine Wine Spectator, which copied Parker's 100-point rating scale. McCloskey's genius revealed itself in the creation of a service that winemakers had no idea they needed: Enologix. Enologix is founded on the principle that wine quality can be measured empirically, therefore crafted chemically. He has created a metric which takes into account the tastes of Robert Parker and critics from Wine Spectator, Wine Enthusiast and other noted wine and spirits publications. The algorithms analyze a wine's flavor components at every stage of production, from growing, harvesting, and fermentation to aging and bottling. Used in conjunction with a market analysis, the Enologix metric is designed to ensure a wine will reach a target price, volume and critic score.
In An Ideal Wine, David Darlington pours out a sweeping history of the modern California wine industry, the one that began with idealists in blue jeans in the late 60's, through today's corporate megalopolises. Dozens of winemaking and kingmaking scions are introduced, though the two principals- Grahm and McCloskey- are featured as the Yin and Yang of the vast and complicated pursuit of the "Ideal Wine."
Darlington is comprehensive and fair, respectful of the access McCloskey and Grahm provided to their businesses and personal lives. He does not spare us Grahm's cringe-worthy self-absorbed silliness nor does he glide over McCloskey's obvious love of beautiful wine. But despite his journalist's quest for balance, it is clear which approach he favors: the artisan's, over the industrialist's.
And it is not hard to determine why. To the industrialist, the vine and its fruit are commodities. Remedial techniques, such as micro-oxygenation, spinning cone, reverse osmosis, and oak chips are regularly employed to correct what nature has wrought. The artisan has a "less is more" approach, adapting viticultural and oenological processes to the prevailing climate and terrain.
Of course, nothing is so black and white- there are no true villains or heroes. If one hopes to make a living making wine, business principles that recognize consumer demand must be respected. The wine artisan's quixotic mission is to refine the consumer's palate; the wine industrialist admits that an American populace raised on high-sugar treats that are silky with fat will clamor for a wine that offers these qualities, year in-year out. Many will pay top-dollar if popular critics tell them so; otherwise bulk juice bottled by discount retailers or mammoth wineries will suit just fine.
An Ideal Wine is a ripe blend of anecdotal, wizard-revealing dish-outs and technical information, which will satisfy the wine geek without overwhelming with jargon. Sadly, it is probably too intense and in-depth to appeal to the consumer targeted by Enologix- the one who wants to be pleased without having to reflect on how the substance in their glass came to be.
I toast Darlington for revealing the reality behind the romance of winemaking, for underscoring the idea that winemaking is an incredible marriage of art and science, perhaps the greatest collaboration of man and nature that we know. It is also a partnership still in its infancy in the United States. Winegrowers and winemakers are yet in the early days of exploring the micro-climates and micro-terrains of California and the Pacific Northwest and defining and working within the terroir of each. Exciting, beautiful wines are being crafted throughout the region and there is a slight but growing shift away from the mammoth mouthfuls advocated by popular critics.
During a trip to the Languedoc region of southern France last spring, my husband and I spent a couple of days with biodynamic farmer and winemaker, Jean-Pierre Vanel (Domaine LaCroix-Vanel). We visited two vineyards that he had just purchased. The vineyards had been conventionally farmed and resembled moonscapes: the soil was brittle and dead, the vines were tired, flat, and gray. Jean-Pierre caressed the vines, lamenting over their poor state like a nursemaid with a cherished charge. We then visited vineyards he has tended biodynamically for several years. They were green and lush in the early days of their ripening. Grasses grew underfoot, the soil was thick and richly-colored, flora and fauna abounded in harmony. Vanel's wines- blends of the region's signature grenache, mourvedre, syrah, cinsault, carignan (reds) and grenache blanc, roussanne, terret (whites) are fine and pure, with angles and tannins, acids and structure: wines that fully express their terroir. Vanel's vision is to be a steward of his land, to allow the vines to create the wine. Not unlike the vision of that long ago, once upon a time, California. ...more
It would be easy to begrudge Elizabeth Bard her lovely life. As New Yorker living in London in the early 2000's, she met a nice French man at a conferIt would be easy to begrudge Elizabeth Bard her lovely life. As New Yorker living in London in the early 2000's, she met a nice French man at a conference in Paris. They had lunch and fell in love. Ten years on, she is married to that French man and they split their time between a Parisian pied-a-terre and a home in the south of France. In between, Bard became fluent in the French language and French cookery, penned a best-selling memoir/cookbook, her husband launched a successful digital film company, and they have a beautiful young son. Her blog is rainbow of food porn, lit by Provençal sunshine and Parisian lights. Scroll past vivid photos of heirloom tomatoes, fresh figs, haricots verts, cheeses weeping from their casements and naked beasts ready for roasting and you will be seduced by a life that seems the stuff of dreams. Envy as green as those fresh beans would be perfectly understandable.
But instead you just want to curl up on a sofa with Elizabeth to share a pot of tea, nibble her chocolate chip cookies, and giggle like schoolgirls over the photos of Daniel Craig in Le Figaro: Madame. She writes with unselfconscious charm and honesty that makes Lunch in Paris pure pleasure. It is like reading a series of letters from a dear friend.
This is not always a light-hearted memoir, though Bard's breezy style often belies the very serious nature of her acculturation to France, the challenge of a cross-cultural marriage, and the loneliness of living in a city without friends or gainful employment. I have a sense that she made a deliberate decision to put the most positive "atta girl" spin on her period of solitude as she learned her way around the French language and culture and said goodbye to the career of her dreams for the man of her heart. She allows sparks of frustration and anger to glow brightly when she writes of the diagnoses and treatment of her father-in-law's cancer and of her determination to see her husband succeed in his business venture.
There are a few jangly notes, mostly around the issue of money. Although Bard takes pains to show that the advantages she enjoyed in childhood were the result of a resourceful mother, she has the means to attend graduate school in London, then to travel every weekend from London to Paris in the year before she moves to Paris for good. Her mother and stepfather visit frequently from New York and she to see them. At one point, she withdraws around $20k from an ATM (Her stash? Her parents?) to make a down payment on an apartment in the 10eme arrondissement. It's a bit of perspective that sets her apart from your average late 20s/early 30s-something single gal.
Bard centers her memoir around the theme of food and cooking as a means of discovering and falling in love with a country- hardly new ground, particularly when the country in question is France. But her bright writing keeps this well free of cliche territory. Bard does a lovely job of addressing her attitudes toward eating and body image, in a land where women maintain slim physiques on petite frames well into middle age. She uses gentle but candid humor and relates some painful stories of fitting her curves into French expectations. I have since read an essay Bard wrote for Harper's magazine about her struggles with her weight and emotional eating, a struggle that seemed to dissipate in a culture that regards food and mealtimes with reverence.
The recipes at the end of each chapter will make this book a permanent part of my cookbook library. She offers up an array of French home cooking, culled from her imagination, from meals at favorite restaurants and from French friends and in-laws who readily shared their culinary traditions.
I am now addicted to Elizabeth Bard's blog. Seeing her happy life unfold in living color makes my dreams seem full of possibility.
Good on ya', Oz! I'm working on scripts for a series of short wine education videos for work and this has been a fantastic reference for getting back Good on ya', Oz! I'm working on scripts for a series of short wine education videos for work and this has been a fantastic reference for getting back to the basics.
I love that he introduces wine as a series of flavor profiles. The focus on a common set of flavors takes the mystery out of what's in the glass. Clark provides the foundation of what we should look for in a wine's aroma, bouquet, texture.
The regional descriptions are as clear and succinct as they could be, given the tangled web of country, state and district appellation laws and classification systems.
The section on matching food and wine offers a brief but excellent template for considering flavors and wine styles.
All in all, a big thumb's up for a comprehensive and engaging guide to exploring wine. Purty pictures, too. The opening shot of Lake Wanaka in Central Otago about broke my heart. Mr. Clark definitely has an affinity for Aotearoa and its gorgeous wines! ...more
This is my new favorite wine guide- the one I am turning to when I need to escape the dry, rote tone of my WSET textbook.
I'm a huge believer that in This is my new favorite wine guide- the one I am turning to when I need to escape the dry, rote tone of my WSET textbook.
I'm a huge believer that in order to appreciate and evaluate wine, you must know the characteristics of the grapes that are in your glass and how different wine styles use those characteristics. For example, syrah/shiraz is redolent of black fruit: blackcurrant, blackberry, black raspberries; it also contains notes of smoke, leather, chocolate, tobacco. All good and well, but an Australian shiraz and a Côte Rôtie are horses of different breeds. Not to mention what happens to syrah when you add in a dash of grenache, a smidgen of mourvèdre- blends are most common in the south of France and among the New World's Rhône Rangers. How can you tell the difference? What makes a good syrah good? And what in the heck should you eat with it?
Well, renowned wine writer Oz Clark has many answers and heaps of suggestions, in a style that's welcoming without stooping to "Wine for Dummies" silliness. In an A-Z format, with gorgeous photos and illustrations, he presents 300+ varietals. Seventeen classic grapes are covered in depth, with extended information on an additional 15 varietals and paragraphs offered for dozens and dozens more (know anything about Negru de Dragasini? Len de L'El? Schiava? You will after spending some quality time with Oz).
There is a fantastic introductory section about vineyard management and wine production- all presented clearly, for the armchair viticulteur and oenologue. ...more
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