Muddled To Perfection

             A Classic Caipirinha

It’s my sure intent to provide a kaleidoscopic view not only on wine, but to avoid tunnel vision when it comes to anything concerning grapes. This is the post where I fly straight into a realm that’s wildly different from common topics such as, “phenol,” or “resveritrol.” Please, if you want me to entertain these notions with relevant dialogue, my blog comments are currently without audience. Besides that, I’m talking about something which has been of undivided interest to me, more or less, and concerns the fact that most of my posts tend to represent an extension of my own epicurean lifestyle. For all reasons, the cocktail is a welcome part of my off-days and I tend to drink a “Caipirinha” often enough to say that it deserves notice among some of the more regal mixers. Strange as it may seem, the staple libation is to Brazil, what Reggaeton was to Puerto Rico nearly ten years ago. Though the chronology may not be exact, the popularity timeline appears to have gone hand-over-wheel. Similarly, pushing the common Mojito is old business . . . hey, as long as we’re being honest, get rid of the leaves and club soda forthwith. Simplicity is the key to galvanizing mixology; but wait, as I would partake, a visit to “BarTaco” in Port Chester stimulated my adoration for finger foods accented by strong drink. It all culminated in a citric blend of "Leblon Cachaça” and key limes . . .oh yes, the braised tongue loosely garnered by flour tortillas was equally helpful.                        

Literally translating to: “The Little Peasant Girl,” the cocktail itself, is refreshing enough to imagine

Leblon Cachaça

the summer heat as nothing but a pretense to sweet, perfumed essences of lime, sugar and crisp liquor. “Cachaça,” a spirit from the largest country in South America by area, is the one responsible for my tepid feelings about certain types of rum, vodka and whiskey. Heck, especially the common dark or silver rum that seems like a by-law in preparing molasses. The spirit is the fermented juice of the cane and let’s the unsuspecting consumer know it. Whether produced as clear, or gold in hue, Cacaçha has an imminent purity and finesse compared to its rummy acquaintances. The Leblon brand is one of my favorites, and it continues to be one of few additions to my cabinet stockpile.        

Moreover, some spirits tend to reveal my disenchantment for other pretentiously modeled cocktails. It seems to me, that counterculture Brooklynites and wily steampunks are committed to bacon grease, tinctures and egg foam for the latest in worldly concoctions. No, keep it very simple and direct; you know, rely specifically on key ingredients and technique. I do not want to witness a sous-vide embryo inside a cocktail during my life on this planet, but I suspect that I have no control in a commingled nebulae of bar-room aesthetics.     
      
Like Paul Kemp in the “Rum Diary,” I could imagine myself juxtaposed with the late caricature, consistently sipping Caipirinhas and sustaining myself with nothing but hamburgers in the baleful heat. However, it would have nothing to do with rum, and I would be somewhere in Rio, or Sao Paolo instead of Puerto Rico; problem is, I don’t know where the good burger joints are in Brazil. I may not leave until the annual Carnival happens to spring up somehow. As long as someone will muddle the limes, I’ll stay put. For now, I’ll break-out my old bossa-nova records.

Next thing you know, The Girl From Ipanema will be transposed into her own mixer.

Cheers !

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com 

Unto Itself. . . It's an Island

A North Fork Greeting

Brooklyn and Queens are practically self-governing in their appeal. So that is to say, with Nassau and Suffolk County; well, you’ve heard plenty about them, but they have not experienced the same communicative popularity seen in various media outlets. Though what is the known link between these suburban utopias? ‘It’s Lung Guyland, buddy !’ You know, the Piscean landmass continuously gumming for Manhattan’s line of savory baits and flashy tackles? If you’re not familiar, I’m talking about a meagerly visited realm where the complacent North Shore is completely different from the mostly laid-back South Shore. If I mention The Hamptons, I may have mused upon something less vague. Now, before you decide whether or not this is a conflict of interest, I admit by all accounts, I am native to Long Island; seriously, it doesn’t mean that I have worked up all this predisposed sentimentality about the wine on the North and South Fork. Although I have collected a few souvenirs—which are nearly cashed, consumed, or otherwise—I personally enjoy it more so than I ever have. Maybe this is more to do with the fact that I live in Westchester now, but I honestly say, that upon some rediscoveries, the juice sure is tastier.

All the pre-century cranberry bushes in Babylon and the apple trees in Riverhead now plead no contest to farming ideals that were once at the heart of Long Island’s economy. Conceptions of “grist milling” and potato farms are memories at best, leaving viticulture to thrive vicariously for locals and tourists who bear the dreadful trek to the last exit on I-495. After exit #71 It’s all worth it, you have that classically diverged road leading you to Rte.# 25 or 27. Really, you can find more vines en route through #25 in the north, ah yes, but the South Fork promises guided maps to celebrated residencies.

Wolffer Estate Rose

Oh, but enclosed stretches of bucolic property and seaside rentals are not the places to be talking about. Wolffer Estate in Sagaponack, is more interesting for me, because of its rich lineage of rosés which have stood beyond the usual ‘Think Pink’ standard of spring-to-summer wine consumption. Their adaptability comes from a citrus and red fruit background that has always been quenching. Their 2009 vintage is a crafty blend of Merlot, Cab Sauv, Cab Franc and Chardonnay grapes that give me the feeling there’s a whimsical ordeal in place here. Given the fact that the blending percentages aren’t exactly linear, the relatively low 6,600 case production is not surprising. It’s not the only vineyard in my sights though, mostly because I’ve been prodded to always drink wine from the Northern Fin. Peconic Bay and Bedell Cellars are always springboards for my own personal enjoyment. Hedonism never found so good of a home after a guilty Thanksgiving holiday weekend spent lazily sipping Peconic’s line of “Nautique” blends on their adjacent porch. Red or white ? doesn’t matter. . .you’re here because Claudio’s famous seafood restaurant is your next dose of indulgent thoughtlessness. Oh poo! I forgot Bedell . . .no I did not, because missing the ‘09 vintage of  their “First Crush” is inapplicable. The only reason to be indecisive now, is to question oneself about purchasing a bottle of Nautique as opposed to any other. From what I know, it won for Peconic, the award for best red blend in NY State. . .Hehe, It’s almost like a regatta for the palate; so, I hope you brought a pair of bluchers too, because you’re going to be heaved straight out of your normal looking shoes.   

Peconic Bay's Nautique Red

I understand there may be some nay-sayings about the Island’s vineyards, but I feel the old dissent common to its earliest customers is perfectly irrelevant now. I remember too, when it was infantile and sprouting, all you could expect were under or overwrought copies of reds styled from the St Estèphe appellation and limey Sauvignon Blanc. Rieslings that would have Germany pondering what “Auslese” means, are also part of tired misconceptions. If I could honestly tell you the worst of what I experienced, it would be about how I’ve been chased and bitten by different species of geese several times while attending outdoor tastings. Now, I miss even them at times. Still . . .memories of dodging the mid-road guinea hens waddling near Jamesport still enrich my soul.

Nassau County based wine tours ? Dolcetto, Lemberger and now Malbec grapes too ?

Something about the Island I once knew has truly changed . . .         

Plummy Circumstances . . .

Mito No Kairakuen

You are quite familiar with the ecstasy implied by an assortment of plums . . .maybe it’s more sensual than what the ancient Mesopotamians understood, but even the renowned poet, William Carlos Williams understood the appeal of a truly globular fruit:  

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious                                      
so sweet
and so cold.                                                                                                                                                                                                  
Yes, as you can tell, he’s apologetic, but equally insincere. Why should he be sorry? All of us partake in the art of proper indulgence, especially when it’s time for wine. Herein, we tend to throw around makeshift adjectives like, “Plummy” all too often. Wine Critics are not Poets however, so most of the time, they’ll confuse each other about what the vocabulary really implies. Choice-A: highly desirable. Choice-B: plum-like. What does it mean in regards to reds, whites, or blush? Who knows . . .why care?

This post is actually in reference to plum liqueur, so we should all take turns softening our audacity before we mistakenly call it “Wine.” Yes, there are some which qualify as sake-laden plum concentrates, but you may as well delve into an onrush of high-fructose, actively fermented rice products. “Ume” pronounced, ‘ooh-may’ is the little stone fruit responsible for one of the most endearing aperitifs I know. “Umeshu” in Japan, is the product in completion; whereby, the youthfully unripe stone fruits collectively release their young nectars into “Shochu,” a distilled spirit coaxed from grain, or a properly chosen fruit or vegetable. What’s interesting though, is that I’m told a significant majority of people work patiently around the risk of blindness and import costs by simply enjoying the home-made version. Ok, I will not lie, half of the appeal lies in watching the lazy little plums bobbling over each other in a glass cylinder. It’s like a circus of micro-organisms slowly competing to touch the bottom of a jar brimming with yellow solution.     

Lucky for me, the sweetest plum of all is the fact I have at least one companion other than a straightaway
tawny. Thinking about the possibilities, I don’t know if there’s a well-spent spring afternoon without it. Call me apprehensive, but for cooking or savoring,  “Mito No Kairakuen” plum liqueur is somewhat multidimensional for me and absolutely necessary for the vacation I’m taking next month. Present, are nuances of pure fruit intermixed with a nose suggesting cherry blossom. Oh yes, tartness also . . . please do not forget that.

Creme De Violette

Popularity may still be waning, but mixologists are nonetheless an important fixture in its future as a staple liqueur. Cocktails seem to evolve everyday, so I’m always wondering if items like "Pineau des Charentes" or "Crème de Violette" will force Umeshu out of its comprehensive arena.

In any event, all of this is truly shocking. . .because scientists say that even the Ume itself is more of an apricot than a plum.

Cheers !

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com                      

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner ?

Casal Garcia Vinho Verde

It was sausage as I remember, and I couldn’t quite figure out what the heck to serve with it. Noticeably, it was Andouille . . . I could tell just from the color alone that it would be a piquant, fiery ride with a sinewy headiness. Spicy food tends to vie with many types of wine, so I’m often choosy about deciding what‘s going to cool it off; if that’s even the case, but can wine and sausage raise an issue profound enough to dissect? Granted, there are too many food dilemmas that I have faced, but I question myself tirelessly about what one serves with items like “Mofongo” or that “Bacon Cheesecake” I once saw proudly fermenting under a glass lid; forgive that latter entrée though, the BBC appears to have a televised love affair with compounds of pork and Stilton Cheese. Ok, I’m venturing off the path here, but if I could choose anything to pair with each, I would go as far to say that a South African Sauvignon Blanc or a Semillon might work. I do not normally like to agree that one bottle, red or white, or one varietal itself could suffice over the other, but when it comes to sausage; boy howdy, I like to think that a chilly Portuguese Vinho Verde will have me wearing the badge of courage this summer.

What is “Food Wine” per se ? and for that question, who is to say that “Table Wine” is any different ? What’s more confusing is how the type we cook with seems to be held as a martyr among a pantry of simple ingredients rather than something drinkable. Truth for me, exists in a producer that can create an affordable, keenly nuanced bottle of wine. I seem to repeat myself at the risk of becoming nauseous, but I always explain to others that they should cook with what they drink and act naturally on the reverse side of this concept. Call it a twinkle in a small, undiscovered revolution, but most of what is viewed as table, cooking, or food wine, should be thought of equally in regards to everyday meals.

Usually, I refer back to a sort of mental rolodex of pairings that have been successful enough for me. So when people say, “Curry!” I say, “Viognier!” When wisecrackers say, “Soup. . .” I tell them to wait for the main course. However, my suggestion is to play the ‘Wine Game’ and pick a “Go-To” bottle for everything. I

L'Argentier

cannot recount how many times my favorite dispensable entry has actually been my most indispensable at the same time. I say that because I consistently pour glasses while realizing, when it’s all gone, how sore I’ll be without it. “L’Argentier,” which sounds to me like, “The Money-Maker” in French, is all Cinsault grapes and no frills. Pale red with accented notes of cherry confit and nutmeg, it’s proven itself to me enough times, that I’ve had to scold it like a ten year old son that thinks he’s brighter than I am. Roasted chicken, or even black-eyed peas in sofrito verde, have all tested well under its influence; a rare trait in my opinion, if not ridiculously good publicity for the Languedoc Region.   

Sometimes, recommending the “ideal” varietal has left me bitter in world of cuisine clichés. I insincerely apologize to all caviar enthusiasts, but you know, Champage actually shows more compassion for burgers and fries than it has for one-eighth lb. servings of sturgeons’ eggs. Imagine . . .starchy, semi-salted potatoes, toasted artisan buns, melted cheese and meaty veggie burgers with something like cold a beer, that’s not exactly ale or lager. I probably have a significantly lower mortality rate for saying all this, but it’s nice to see the smiles of Beluga whales without self- remorse.

It’s interesting, after all I’ve been learned about wine, it seems like the relationship between it and just about anything culinary, is that food remains the guiding principle behind the reality of grape harvesting. As cultural views on food change, I’m guessing that braised armadillo may one day call for something like a gamy Rhone Valley red.

I’m not saying they go very well together, but everyone’s tastes are in fact ...different.

Cheers !

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

Visit us online @: westchesterwine.com