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Archive for the ‘Wine’ Category

A light lunch with Dom Pérignon

23 Jun

A very rare treat - the Oenotheque 1996

How well I remember my long-ago visit to Möet & Chandon in Épernay. There was the obligatory photograph at the statue of Dom Pérignon in the courtyard of the Möet Maison, a rather forbidding brick building on the Avenue de Champagne, a night at the Chateau de Saran, where the company entertains its guests, then a delightful lunch in the Trianon – two elegant white palaces and an orangerie framing a charming garden. Built by Jean-Remy Möet in 1804 they were a favourite watering-hole for Napoleon and are now used for public relations exercises. It was the same Jean-Remy who had the foresight (and the cash) to purchase the Abbey and vineyards of Hautvillers in 1823, including the tiny room where Dom Pérignon himself made his contribution to civilisation in the late 1600s. These days it is kept up as a shrine – and a most satisfactory one. A lovingly tended garden lies at its heart, circled by lichen-covered grey stone walls that draw colour from the afternoon sun. Woodpigeons coo in the trees behind the rose beds; vineyards slope steeply down the hillside, merging into meadows that reach to the placid waters of the Marne.

            Pierre Pérignon was 29 when he joined the Benedictine community at Hautvillers in 1658. His duties were those of a procurator, collecting taxes from the Abbey’s tenant farmers, some of whom paid with grapes. Dom Pérignon used these tithes in his experiments, carefully vinifying wines from different vineyards and villages and then comparing and blending them. His first great discovery was that an assemblage of various wines could be far more delicious and interesting than its separate components.

            At that time, casks of the tart, still white wine from Champagne’s cold, chalky hills were shipped to England in the winter, where innkeepers drew it off into bottles which were then sealed with corks. The warmth of the inns rekindled the incomplete fermentation and when the bottles were opened, sparkling Champagne frothed out. Dom Pérignon figured out what was going on and learned to control the process, pioneering the use of corks and strong glass bottles in France. He also developed a shallow-based press that allowed him to produce clear white juice from black Pinot Noir grapes and discovered that sheep manure was the best fertilizer for vineyards. By the time he died, in 1715, he had done enough to earn an undying reputation as the father of sparkling Champagne.

Axelle Araud, oenologue for Dom Perignon, our guide through the vintages

            Centuries later, in 1936, Jean-Remy Möet’s successor, Robert-Jean, Comte de Vogüé, was looking for a good name for Möet & Chandon’s Vintage 1921 Cuvée de Prestige, a wine created initially for the American market. Dom Pérignon was the ideal moniker. Since then it has been made only in exceptional years – 37 vintages to be precise – its personality and unique style cherished and protected by a series of winemakers who see themselves more as custodians of a tradition than creators. Any chance to taste it must always be seized, so when Franco Stalteri invited me to a small gathering in the magnificent wine cellar beneath Barberian’s steak house, and mentioned that various Dom Pérignons would be tasted and introduced by Axelle Araud, an oenologue on the team of Richard Geoffroy, Dom Pérignon’s winemaker and chef de cave, I was down there faster than a gopher with mustard on its tail.

It was a lovely way to spend a Wednesday lunchtime. I suppose there were nine or ten of us, along with our host Arron Barberian and Axelle Araud. Her commentary was lucid and fascinating. We started with the 2002, one of the great vintages in the region when all the grapes in all 17 of Champagne’s grands crus reached perfect maturity. That, in fact, was the challenge for Dom Pérignon. The wines from that year were so intense and rich that the great Champagne’s ethereal character was threatened. You can have too much of a good thing! Dom Pérignon is always around 50-50 Chardonnay and Pinot Noir and is the only Champagne to use grapes from all 17 grands crus. It’s different every time and yet it’s always the same – weightless, gossamer but round and richly flavoured with amazing length. The texture is the giveaway – “seamless and tactile,” said Axelle, “like a caress on your tongue. Never too dry or astringent.” And it’s pristine. During the winemaking and during the obligatory minimum of seven years’ aging on the yeasty lees trapped in the bottle, it is never exposed to oxygen. Other Champagnes are. Krug, for example, ages its base wines in oak. So Dom Pérignon is virginal, hinting at toast or almonds or citrus but in a subtle way – as if you walked into a room on a spring morning and the window was wide open and there was a bowl of lemons on the table – no more citrus than that.

            After the 2002, we tasted the 2000 Dom Pérignon Rosé, my first encounter with this wine. In all the years, Möet has only made 21 D.P. Rosés. The first one was created in 1959 in honour of the Shah of Iran’s wedding. This too is roughly 50-50 Chardonnay and Pinot Noir but the blend includes red wines for the colour and for a subtle astringency. It’s more intense and vinous and there are red and black berries on the nose. “It’s amazing with meat,” said Arron Barberian. “Lamb tartare in particular.”

Arron Barberian, generous host and master of the revels

            Our third wine was a Dom Pérignon Oenotheque 1996. These are fabulously rare beasts, “ a confrontation with time” wherein the wine is left undisturbed in the bottle for a further plenitude of five years or even for another 20. The extra time doesn’t seem to age the wine at all – the yeast contact keeps it young. The 1996 was disgorged in 2008 and as we tasted it on Wednesday it was miraculously vibrant, more intense and biscuitty than the Vintage 2002 with hints of honey and dried citrus peel on the nose – a curiosity for the true collector, priced around $1500 a bottle.

            Barberian’s provided a magnificent buffet for us at that point – big fat PEI oysters (awesome with the Oenotheque), massive juicy shrimp and lobster meat, smoked salmon and charcuterie (fabulous with the Rosé), an array of Quebec’s finest cheeses, teaspoonfuls of caviar and barely seared scallops topped with a dab of house-made bacon jam. “You know what we should do?” asked Arron Barberian. “Just in the spirit of intellectual enquiry…” He disappeared into his other (even larger) wine cellar and came back with a Dom Pérignon 1978. “Who here is younger than this wine?” he asked. A number of hands were raised. He opened it and we tasted… Sure, it was showing a little age, which suited me no end – I’m English, I love older Champagnes. The colour was darker but it was still awesome, still showing pizazz with buttery notes and the scent of dried fruits. The length was formidable and that telltale texture, like the feeling of silk on bare skin, was unmistakable.

            Sharing the love, Vintages will be including the Oenotheque 1996 and the 2000 Rosé in its October Classics Catalogue. The 2002 is on sale now. For the 1978, you’d best be high-tailing it over to Barberian’s.

 
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Posted in Drink, Life in General, Treats, Wine

 

Massey College Wine Grazing straddles Andes

23 Jan

Remains of the Malbec station

How might Dickens have described it: the snowflakes floating silently out of the darkness, drifting down into lanes and quadrangles, bearding the stone gables and clinging like a bride’s veil to the russet brick of Massey College. Inside, all is warmth and conviviality as the gowned and rosy-cheeked Master makes merry with graduate fellows and guests. Fine vintages flow; the high table groans under roasted fowl, rich sauces and forcemeats, spiced casseroles and curries, creams and sugared cakes. But step back into the night. There, amid the freezing slush of St. George Street, huddling for sustenance at the vendors’ carts, stand shivering students clutching their last few groats. Cold in their garrets, undergraduates at less civil colleges than Massey think of the stodge and slopkettle that waits for them in the residence dining hall and decide, once again, to make do with a slice of cheap, chewy pizza and a Coke.     

            That’s how I have always imagined the winter scene on the sprawling campus of the University of Toronto. And that’s why I am so grateful that it is Massey College, and not one of the other halls of learning, where I help out the resident wine club with it’s annual Grazing. We don’t sit at the high table and the Master is absent – but the food is always wonderful. Darlene Naranjo is in charge of all matters culinary at Massey and she nourishes the academic community there with great skill and imagination. Greg Cerson is the steward and facilitator of logistics. Thanks to him our group can process from the Common Room to the Upper Library and back again three or four times in an evening and each time find some new treat piping hot and ready to be tasted with wines already poured.

            This year our theme was the wines of Argentina and Chile, the amazing speed with which their wine industries have come up to speed once the political horrors and corruption of the 1970s and 1980s were ended, and the recently evolving determination (mirroring Australia and Canada) to create fabulous high-end wines that reflect specific terroirs. Our little tasting was not a competition between the two countries, though their histories have been remarkably similar: conquistadors and mission priests planting the first vines (Criolla in Argentina, in the late 1400s; Pais in Chile, circa 1541), French vines and know-how arriving in the mid-19th century, foreign investment kicking in (finally) in the late 1980s and ’90s with modern equipment, modern thinking and the idea of export all catching on thereafter. Argentina has its special red grape in Malbec, Chile with Carmenere, both of them originally from Bordeaux, though Malbec was a major player until Merlot usurped its role and Carmenere was never more than an extra with a line or two of dialogue in a good year.

            Here are some highlights from last night. Our first station featured a refereshing méthode Champenoise bubbly from Chile – Valdiviseo Blanc de Blanc Brut – necessary refreshment after the crowd had been listening to me talk for 20 minutes. We moved on to Tilia Torrontés 2009, a fresh aromatic white made from Torrontés, a natural cross of Muscat of Alexandria and Criolla Chica, the old mission grape, and the only variety we tasted that was actually born in South America. It smelt like Viognier with aromas of apricot, yellow plum and white flowers but was as crisp and fresh as a Pinot Grigio. We paired these wines with a traditional Argentinean empanada, like a tiny vegetable pasty with a hint of chili and yucca, made to a recipe from the area where the Torrontés was grown. People in Mendoza love their empanadas. They are sold on the street and everyone has their favourite concession stands. I remember visiting Mendoza in 1990 and the woman who was my guide to one of the wineries suddenly swerving her Mercedes into the side of the road when she saw an empanada stand. She was a very glamorous lady in her forties, an Hermès scarf knotted loosely around her throat, lots of jewellery, perfectly crimson nails and an incredibly haughty attitude. She wolfed down that empanada though, sighing and moaning with pleasure then licking her fingertips before we drove on – without a word being said.

The next Massey station set a very high standard. We poured the Luca Chardonnay that I have described before – a most delectable wine like a Meursault that’s come back from a holiday in the tropics with a Carmen Miranda hat. Beside that, we offered Underraga’s Terroir Hunter Sauvignon Blanc from the small Leyda Valley in Chile. While the recent pioneers in Argentina have gone vertically up into the Andes, planting vineyards at dizzying altitudes, in Chile the exploration has been outwards into the many valleys that twist down from the mountains to the Pacifc, north and south of Santiago. Some are hot, some cool, depending on the Andean and ocean breezes. The Leyda Valley was only planted in 2000 and it attracted attention because it seemed so like Marlborough in New Zealand – very dry, quite cool – less rain than New Zealand but similar temperatures, and perfect for Sauvignon Blanc. This wine is heady with grapefruit, lime, passionfruit, green grass, and a dry minerality at the finish as if you were sucking a pebble.

With this, the kitchen served a fillet of a buttery-rich, dense-fleshed white fish called corvina graced with plenty of citrus zest and fruit to balance the acidity in the wines. It was awesome with the Sauvignon Blanc.

Our third station presented two Malbecs – Catena Malbec from Argentina (seamlessly elegant) and Valdiviseo Single Vineyard Malbec from Chile (grown in a much warmer location, a tad rugged on its own but great with the food). The dish was osso buco with a brunoise of carrot, parsnip and leek and fire-roasted sweet red peppers.

            At station four we poured two Argentinean reds – Trivento Golden reserve Syrah and Salentein Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon – both of which slipped down very easily with lean, pink loin of lamb crusted with pecan and thyme, a single Chinese gooseberry on the side.

            Station five was reserved for a typical Chilean Carmenere from Marques de Casa Concha. We paired that with shavings of Idiazabal, the hard-to-find aged sheep’s milk cheese from Spain’s basque country that is smoked over beech wood. Carmenere’s story always amazes me – the grape brought over with all the other Bordeaux varieties in the 1850s but its identity lost along the way. It looks like Merlot but ripens much later, not until its own leaves have turned scarlet, so growers just called it “the late-ripening Merlot.” It was only in 1994 that a very astute French ampelographer identified it as Carmenère. Since Carmenère was virtually extinct in France I suppose we can include the grape on the short list of Lazarus toxons – species once thought extinct but rediscovered – of which the coelacanth is the poster child.

            We finished with another Carmenere (Chileans have dropped the accent on the second e and pronounce all four syllables of the name), the spectacular Purple Angel 2007 from Vina Montes. Last year, Massey wine committee member Sabrina Abandali and I tasted dozens of Carmeneres at the Chilean wine show at the ROM, looking for our grand finale. This was the one we loved most. The company was created by a well-known winemaker and a group of eager investors in 1988 with the single purpose of producing ultra high-end wines – no cheap-and-cheerful money-makers – and that marked another step forward for the Chilean wine industry. The grapes come from the Colchagua valley – source of most of the great Carmeneres I’ve ever tasted – and the yield is kept extremely low so the wine is particularly intense. Drinking it is like painting a stripe of dark purple paint across your tongue – spicy, tannic, peppery paint with the flavour of blackberries, black currants, a little eucalyptus and just a hint of the metallic taste of your own blood. We served it with hot roasted chestnuts. And that was probably where the Dickensian mood came from, thinking of those old-fashioned treats as I trudged home from the College through the softly falling snow, my teeth stained a pretty purple from the angelic Carmenere.

 
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Compliments of the Season

14 Dec

Buying presents for people we care about at this time of the year – or buying a few innocent extra indulgences for oneself – is always an ordeal. So many exhausting decisions…

I’m here to help. 

CARM Praemium awesome Portuguese olive oil

OIL         At the farthest, most remote reaches of  Portugal’s Douro valley, so far and high  you can see the Spanish border to the east, in a landscape where the sun beats down on the parched, vertiginous slopes of crushed stone like a hammer on an anvil and the river takes many days to slip silently past the great port vineyards before surging out into the Atlantic, stands the epicentre of the Casa Agricola Roboredo Madeira, better known from its wine labels as CARM. It’s the Madeira family business and once, almost a decade ago, I tasted its finest wines and olive oils in a palace in Lisbon, poured and interpreted by Felipe Madeira himself. Much to my delight, I recently rediscovered some of those oils right here in Toronto, at Salt Wine Bar on Ossington Avenue, to be precise. You can buy them there by the bottle, to take home, and I strongly recommend such a course of action. The CARM Praemium is the one to aim for – an organic extra virgin oil cold-pressed from Madural and Verdeal olives. The flavour is strong but it’s not raunchily oxidized like so many Portuguese olive oils. The aroma is penetrating, fruity, like ripe tomatoes and apple skins with just the right amount of peppery prickle. On that night in Lisbon, the chef at the palace chose to flatter Felipe Madeira by turning his golden treasure into dessert – a trio of olive oil mousse (with a bouquet of newly cut hay), juicy sugared olives (a brilliant idea I have never encountered since) and an olive oil ice cream that tasted like crème fraîche boosted by the fruity, plum-tomato aroma of these amazing Madurals. Praemium knocks any olive oil from Tuscany into a cocked hat, especially when tasted with fresh, moist, heavy Portuguese corn bread for dunking and a scrunch of coarse salt.

One of many many delectable Kusmi teas

 TEA          I’m a sporadic tea drinker at best. There will be times, mostly during some kind of physical recuperation, when a really excellent tea becomes an enthusiasm. Cleansing, restorative… Then I feel better and quickly return to older associates – coffee, port, Negronis, a refreshing ale…Recently, I had a chance to taste some teas from Kusmi, the venerable company founded in St. Petersburg in 1867, removed to Paris in 1917 (for obvious reasons) and last year entering North America via Montreal. These are very high quality black or green teas and exotically flavoured blends, some subtle, some powerful but all of them elegant and delicious. Most usefully, Kusmi has prepared a sampling box of 12 different varieties (two teabags per variety, $17) to allow a thorough exploration. I was enchanted by “Prince Vladimir” with its citrus and vanilla aromas, and by “Anastasia,” all bergamot, lemon and orange blossom. These teas, I suspect, will command my loyalty for more than a morning-after. Find them at Cheese Boutique, McEwan, Pascale Bros and elsewhere. A complete list of retail locations is available at www.kusmi.ca.

Francois Chartier's life-changing book, Taste Buds and Molecules

WORDS         I met François Chartier a few weeks ago when he passed through Toronto, publicizing his extraordinary new book, Taste Buds and Molecules (McClelland & Stewart, $39.99). It is a manifesto, a treatise, a revolutionary new approach to the relationship between food and wine, and it could change your life. You and I (and I include you in this with total confidence) were brought up to match wines to food in an entirely empirical manner. We were taught guidelines that had evolved through trial and error. Like good scientists, we tested those guidelines through trials of our own. Perhaps we even came up with some semi-original ideas, but always because history, custom, tradition, our own instincts and the evidence of our own palates determined them. Chartier, a leading sommelier in Montreal, approaches the relationships between food and wine from the inside out. This book is the result of 20 years of research and it has been hailed by no less a sage than Ferran Adrià as “magnificent” and “groundbreaking.” Chartier’s method is to analyze the aromatic molecular compounds in a wine and then find the identical compounds in foods. Pair them together, however bizarre the combination sounds, and a gustatory orgasm is guaranteed. Some of these juxtapositions might be guessed at – mint and Sauvignon Blanc, for example. Others are more obscure. The same compound, sotolon, links the vin jaune of Jura with curry and maple syrup. It also accounts for the deep affinity between fenugreek seeds and Manzanilla sherry and oysters. Chartier was completely persuasive when we met. “You must dip grilled asparagus in dark chocolate and then taste it with a Cabernet Sauvignon,” he insisted. “It is a revelation.” Study this book and you will learn what wines to serve with what foods, by a method entirely based upon biochemistry rather than the evidence of your senses. It is full of wisdom, though the style of the writing is decidedly scientific and the graphic design annoyingly distracting. This will not deter the professional sommelier or the wine geek but it may tire the general reader. No matter. Dip into it whenever you can. Use the index. Amaze your friends and confound your enemies. You can find the book at the Cookbook Store.

Chateau de Montgueret Cremant de Loire

BUBBLES          France is replete with sparkling wines, mostly made in the same painstaking way as Champagne though each blessed with its own proud provenance and name. Crémant de Loire is one such style, and Château de Montguéret is an admirable example of it, a crisp, elegant bubbly made from 60 percent Chenin Blanc, 20 percent Chardonnay and 20 percent Cabernet Franc. It calls itself a Brut but it’s not as austere as many Champagnes, though the chalky soils of the Loire valley lend a definite minerality to the long, satisfying finish. On a good day, I can imagine pear and cooked apple on the nose but let’s face it, we turn to bubbly for texture and sharpness, refreshment and chill and for fizz and frivolity rather than vague suggestions of fruit. If you’re on a budget that denies you real Champagne, this will solve your problem: it’s a bargain at $18.95 (CSPC # 621896 on the LCBO’s general list). And we drink too few wines from the Loire – possibly because Niagara already provides us with a home-grown seraglio of cool, diffident blondes.

Sharon Shoot at Chocolate by Wickerhead's door

CHOCOLATE          Back in the mid-1990s, chocolatier Sharon Shoot had a charming little store on the margin of the Beach. It was called Wickerhead and the great treat available there was clusters of fresh, crunchy-squeaky popcorn hand-dipped in dark, milk or white Belgian chocolate. In those days I wrote Toronto Life’s food shop guide single-handed, spending six weeks of every parched and broiling summer visiting hundreds of gourmet stores in the GTA, learning the city’s foodscape first-hand. My reward was the discovery of obscure jewels such as Shoot’s awesome corn. Things are different these days at Toronto Life, and Sharon Shoot has moved on. But only a block or two. She is still in the deliciousness business, with a new store called Chocolate by Wickerhead at 2375 Queen Street East (at Beech), 647 344 9060, www.wickerhead.com. And the chocolate popcorn remains her defining gift to the world. If you have never tried it, now is as good a time as any to remedy the situation.

The Appleton 30-year-old rum - wasted on pirates

RUM          A great amber rum can hold its own against almost any other spirit. Appleton’s 30-Year-Old is such a treasure. The distillery’s Master Blender takes several individually oak-aged eight-year-old Jamaican rums, blends them and then puts them back into six barrels that once held Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey for a further 22 years. Six casks yield only 1,440 bottles and that is the number released every year – some of which have ended up at Vintages (CSPC 164103) right now and are selling for $503 each. I have never heard of a more expensive rum. Is it worth the money? Sure, if you can afford it. Thirty years in wood is a very long time and a rum might be expected to emerge like the Count of Monte Cristo, all dried-out, embittered and obsessive, but this spirit survives the incarceration with cool equanimity. It’s a superb rum, with a smooth, lissom body like good Armagnac. Appleton’s telltale orange zest aroma is there on the nose but tightly braided with vanilla, caramel, raisin-studded butter tart and a hint of chocolate. The palate is delightfully refined and well balanced, not sugary (nothing so crass) but conjuring illusions of caramel sauce, toasted hazelnuts and the scent of a baked plum tart coming hot from the oven. The dryish finish is as smooth as the beginning, lingering into the distance without any bitter hook or wobbly vibrato. The only criticism I have ever heard levelled against this rum is that it is almost too elegant, too smooth and refined, in other words, not rummy enough. Which is as daft as saying a song can be too well sung. I urge you to buy a bottle – and then send it to me.

 
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Laura Catena’s wines

11 Nov

Laura Catena in one of her vineyards

Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting a most impressive woman – Laura Catena. In her native Mendoza, Argentina, she is the vice president of Bodega Catena Zapata, one of the most innovative and iconic wineries in the country. With her father, Nicolas, she is responsible for wines under the Catena, Catena Alta, Catena Zapata, Tilia and Alamos labels. She is also the owner and founder of Luca wines and creator of La Posta winery, which showcases wines made from the grapes of prodigiously gifted smallholders and farmers. Oh yes and she’s also a full-time emergency room doctor in San Francisco where she lives with her husband and three children. In her spare time she has written a book, just published, that is the most thorough, savvy and interesting introduction to the Argentinean wine industry I have ever read. It’s called Vino Argentino and is published by Chronicle Books. I found my copy at the Cookbook Store. Yesterday, she was in town for a day of public relations events then off to New York for more of the same. So I was lucky to be one of the two wine writers (David Lawrason the other) that her Toronto agent, Alex Gaunt of Trialto, invited to his Liberty Village office for a tasting.

After whetting our palates with a little crisp, aromatic Tilia Torrontes (the only Torrontes at the LCBO these days and a fine example of that perfumed grape) we began with the Luca Chardonnay 2008. We don’t see much high-end Argentinean Chardonnay in Ontario though it’s the grape that first lured the world to take an interest in Argentinean wine, back in the 1990s. This one is grown at 5000 feet in Tupungato, in the foothills of the Andes where the sunlight is fiercely bright but the temperatures pretty much Burgundian. It’s gorgeous – full-bodied, ripe, full of intense aromas and flavours of tropical and citrus fruit but with a fresh, minerally finale. It sells for less than $30 and is worth every cent.

We also tasted La Posta Bonarda 2008 an elegant floral red. After Malbec, Bonarda is the most planted red variety in Argentina. With their strong Italian heritage, most Argentineans assume it is the same grape as the northern Italian Bonarda – “They have willed it to be Italian,” says Laura Catena. As she points out in her book however, it’s actually a French grape – the Charbonneau from Savoie. Look how well it has done in Argentina!

Ditto Malbec, of course. But here we should correct an often-heard mistake. Malbec is rare in France these days – confined to the inky wines of Cahors and almost extinct in its native Bordeaux, though it is still listed as an allowed component of the Bordeaux blend. People assume it must always have played a minor role in Bordeaux but in fact it was an equal player with Cabernet Sauvignon until the phylloxera blight in the last quarter of the 19th century, when Europe’s vineyards were all but wiped out. The solution, as we all know, was to replant with American rootstock, immune to phylloxera, but Malbec did not take kindly to the process. Merlot did – which is why Merlot is now Cabernet’s companion in Bordeaux instead of noble Malbec.

Catena Alta Malbec

Fortunately for the world, Malbec had already been taken to Argentina and was doing well. We can taste how well today in the wines Laura Catena poured for us yesterday. Catena Malbec is available at Vintages for around $20. If I had to pick one Argentinean Malbec as the archetype of the style it would be this one. Laura puts it more poetically: “This is the Chanel jacket of Argentinean wine,” classic, elegant and always appropriate. It’s a blend of fruit from five of the estate’s vineyards, including some very high altitude plantings for heady aromatics and some in the lower-lying Maipu region for richness and warmth. “I despise flabbiness in wines,” says Laura – hence the bright acidity that underpins all the rich black fruit and makes this such a successful food wine.

Then there is Catena Zapata Malbec Argentino. We tasted the 2005 yesterday. It sells at around $90. There’s a much bigger qualitative gap between a $10 wine and a $20 wine than there is between a $40 and a $100 wine. And at these exalted levels we’re looking for more than raw power and intensity. The Zapata is no heavyweight. It is sublimely elegant and balanced, limpid and smooth. What makes it so remarkable is its amazing length. The sense of the fruit, the spice, the aromatic harmony lingers on the palate for a long long time before it starts to fade. And though this wine is already five years old it still tastes wonderfully juicy and young. These very high Andean vineyards receive huge amounts of pure sunshine but it’s the labour-intensive detail in the vineyard that pays such a dividend. Some great wines are made from specific areas of a single vineyard. This wine is made from specific individual vines, each one marked with a red ribbon – the Malbec apotheosis.

 
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Hello godello

24 Jul

Fanny bay oysters and pimentos de padron

It doesn’t seem all that long ago that albariño was being feted as the unknown great white grape from Galicia. Now that savvy sommeliers have brought it so delightfully to the world’s attention it’s time for a new uva desconocida. Say hello to godello. And while we’re about it, let’s open our arms to a Galician red called mencía. Both introductions were made earlier this week by Luis Nuñez of Losada Vinos de Finca and his agents here, The Wine Coaches, over a seriously delicious dinner at Cava. Chef Chris McDonald is himself a sommelier and his wine-pairing dinners on those long-ago, shining, stimulating nights at Avalon were always revelatory (I remember one occasion built around Oregon pinot noirs that changed the way I thought about food-and-wine matching, not to mention north-western pinot). He and his co-owner and co-chef at Cava, Doug Penfold (who looks more and more like Chris with the passing years) performed brilliantly this time around, much to the delight of the crowd.

Godello turned out to be a total delight. It grows in a single mountain valley in Galicia, about 250 kilometres from the sea, on very slatey soils that contribute a vibrant minerality to the wine. In 1885, the proprietor of Bodegas Valdesil planted a vineyard called Pedrouzos exclusively to godello. His neighbours said it was financial suicide as the variety is notoriously delicate and easily over-ripens but our champion stuck to his intentions. Today, that vineyard still exists and the godello clone that originates there is recognized for its superior structure and complexity.

 The first version we tried was 2008 Val de Sil, made from vines that are 20-30 years old. It’s fermented and aged on its lees in steel – clean and concentrated, minerally with a hint of citrus – reminiscent of a Rousanne or a good Chablis. The chefs paired it with two divinely creamy Fanny Bay oysters from Vancouver Island that they had subjected to a mild escabeche treatment for a couple of hours, leaving the oyster flesh slightly denser than normal and with a subtle prickle of vinegar. With them were two pimentos de padron, those pinkie-sized green peppers that let you play Russian roulette – due to a genetic fluke, one in every dozen or so is not mild and sweet like its brethren but searingly hot. Pan-fried in olive oil and scattered with salt, my two were safe. Crunchy cucumber threads and some fresh dill flowers completed the dish, the flavours resonating in several different keys with the wine.

Smoked albacore tuna sashimi with tonnato sauce and garden beans

Godello number two was 2007 Pezas de Portela. This wine is fermented and aged for six months in oak barriques before moving into steel where it rests on its lees until bottling. The hint of oak was altogether charming but don’t take my word for it. Robert Parker declared this wine the second best white in all of Spain. McDonald and Penfold’s dish played brilliantly to the smoky oak – a salad of split yellow and green beans with an olive oil dressing, three slices of rare, lightly smoked albacore tuna sashimi and a stunning tonnato sauce made of crushed tuna, egg yolk and olive oil, as smooth as satin.

The third godello 2007 Pedrouzos, was the evening’s star in my opinion, a wine made from vines grown in the original 1885 vineyard. The production is tiny from such ancient plants – only 500 magnums a year, the winemaking method identical to Pezas de Portela. Knowing where it came from added extra concentration to the tasting – as did the understanding that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Again, the accompanying dish was designed to shine a light into the wine’s interior, illuminating all sorts of aromatic echoes. Subtly flavourful quenelles of pike and lobster were set over a slice of fried lion’s mane mushroom, its texture not unlike eggplant, with a vibrant, very pure green pea sauce.

Then it was on to the red wines, three iterations of the mencía grape made by Finca Losada. The project is a new one, started only in 2005, but the vines are ancient – 60 to 70 year-old bush vines growing on clay just to the north of the godello area. We started with 2007 Losada – a big, robust red, rich and dense with dark fruit tannins and as much acidity as a Baco Noir, spiced by 10 to 12 months in French and American oak. The chefs met the acidity head on with a soft crimson piquillo pepper surrounded by a pulpy, tangy, chipotle-spiked tomatillo sauce. There were fried chickpeas for substance and the pepper was stuffed with a gorgeously loose, almost liquid house-made morcilla blood sausage, rich enough to take on the muscular wine.

2006 Altos de Losada was also big and bold though the extra year and a purely French oak regime added a measure of elegance. Lean slices of red deer leg volunteered to dance with the wine’s tannins; crunchy poached Asian greens and a compote of peach and red currant answered the challenge of acidity; a glorious slab of gamay-poached foie gras, soft as butter, quietly stole the show.

The final red, 2007 Altos de Losada, La Bienquerida, is a single vineyard production and one step further along the path to ultimate sophistication. The chefs decided to balance its power with voluptuously tender braised Texel lamb shoulder in a rich gravy with favas, tomato and grilled baby fennel. Another triumph.

In case anyone was still hungry, we finished with a slice of marcona almond cake, some bing cherry ice cream and a sour cherry compote, pleasantly paired with a Spanish sticky, Moscatel Oro Floralis from Torres.

It was a very fine evening, by universal consensus, and a treat to discover two grape varieties and so many wines we had never tasted before.

 
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Carry on up the Okanagan

19 Jun

Just back from a 36-hour flying visit to the Okanagan for the media launch of the Canadian Culinary Championships, annual grand finale of each year’s Gold Medal Plates campaign, where the victorious chefs from each of the eight regional finals battle it out over a gruelling weekend of gastronomic challenges. For at least the next five years, we’re going to hold the CCC in Kelowna and the launch was to announce the fact to the locality and the world.
Why Kelowna? We were asked that question a lot by the local press. The answer involves a number of reasons. We were weary of reinventing the three-day event in a different city every year and were looking for a home. We wanted somewhere that wasn’t one of our regular cities. Kelowna kind of has it all… Great wine, obviously; excellent local produce; a strong chefs’ association; a vibrant culinary program at Okanagan College ( we can use their teaching kitchens for our Black Box competition and their students as apprentices for our competitors); above all, a sophisticated population who are very savvy about food and wine and will, we hope, provide the essential extra component to our funfair – an audience.
The launch went very well. We held it at the Delta Grand, where we will also hold the CCC Grand Finale next February. Triathlete and all-round hero Simon Whitfield flew in from Victoria for four hours and charmed everyone. Radio star Terry David Mulligan was the smart and genial MC, interviewing everyone (see his comment below for a chance to hear about the event on his own radio show). Excellent food was on offer, including an item from the Delta Grand hotel’s executive chef, Stuart Klassen, built around wine-fed beef. He gets the animals from Sezmu Farms – beef cattle whose diet includes a litre of wine a day for a minimum of 90 days. No, it doesn’t taste of wine, but it is remarkably tender (“I guess the cattle are that much more relaxed,” says Klassen, with a twinkle in his eye). Chef took little cuts of the chuck, wrapped them in cawl fat and braised them then set each piece of juicy meat on top of a hollow potato pedestal with a stewed cherry inside it. Beside this, over a stripe of reduced cherry wine, he set a tiny puck of foie gras terrine freckled with macerated cherries. Scrumptious.
The other dish came from Joy Road Catering out of Penticton, a company created by two young chefs, Cam Smith and Dana Ewarts, who I first met years ago when they were apprentices in the kitchen of Chris McDonald at Avalon. They are utterly delightful, existing in a sort of wonderful glow of innocence and youthful exuberance, but at the same time working incredibly hard in the service of their uncompromising values. Their dish featured 100 lbs of fresh wild morels they had picked the day before on Terrace Mountain – the happy legacy of the tragic forest fires of last year. They set the pan-seared morels over perfectly timed local asparagus (skinny and emerald green) all o’er-strewn with a crunchy brunoise of fried sourdough bread, fresh thyme flowers and chervil. They set this heavenly tangle of early summer flavours over two sauces – one a thick, mild-mannered purée of sweet onion bulbs, the other a cadmium yellow liaison of organic hazelnut oil and egg yolk from their own aracana chickens. It had that incredibly rich, yolky flavour that only truly free-range, intellectually independent laying-hens can give. It was a sensational match for the white wine we served – Laughing Stock’s 2007 Chardonnay, aged in 500-litre oak puncheons – juicy, silky, opulent Chardonnay with buttery biscuity overlay.
There will be four chefs from the Okanagan in the Vancouver Gold Medal Plates gala on October 29 – Stuart Klassen from the Delta Grand, Kelowna, Cam Smith and Dana Ewarts from Joy Road in Penticton (two talents competing as one) and Roger Sleiman, chef of the stunning Quail’s Gate winery restaurant, Old Vines. I believe they will give coastal B.C. a serious run for the gold.
There was barely time, but, the night before the launch and straight from the airport, we dashed down to Osoyoos to see Sean Salem, owner of two Oliver-area wineries – Le Vieux Pin (amazing Syrah, fabulous blended white, awesome Merlots) and La Stella (I had no idea anyone could make a SuperTuscan in B.C.!). Uncompromisingly generous with his hospitality and his barrel samples, Sean was an awesome host. His experiments with different French and Canadian cooperages and toasts at Le Vieux Pin are going to yield a wealth of delectable knowledge in a couple of years. Tragically, a massive landslide last week has destroyed one of his prize vineyards of almost 30-year-old Chardonnay and the gorgeous mature Muscat vines he uses for La Stella’s off-dry petillant Muscat. No one was hurt, though five people’s homes were wiped out. Apparently authorities knew about a poorly maintained pond and dam up on the hillside but failed to respond to local warnings. Heavy rains came last week and presto. It’s a miracle no one was killed. A tragedy about the Muscat.
Back in Kelowna, after the launch, we nipped out for dinner last night to a delightful five-year-old spot called The Rotten Grape. My friend John Gilchrist, Calgary’s primo food writer and restaurant guru, recommended it and he steered us totally right. It’s a 40-seat wine bar and bistro owned by Rita Myers (who got her start with the Fairmont hotel group) and chef Tasha Howe (proudly self-taught) – lovely and casual with rough stone walls, wine cabinets everywhere and a guy with a guitar singing old Beatles and Leonard Cohen songs with uncommon grace and beauty. There’s also an adorable Portuguese water dog called Praia who seems to be in charge of the entire place. We ate very tender baby squid smothered in almond panko crumbs with a chili cucumber sauce; gorgeously succulent local bison tenderloin, barely seasoned with some simple potatoes and a giant morel lolling on top like a gnome’s loofah; fascinating cakes made from mashed-up curried broccoli and Manchego cheese held together with egg and panko and served with a curry aioli (can you imagine them? They really were terrifically good); and squeaky green beans tossed with garlic, chili and ginger. Wines? We seem to have drained a few bottles, now that I try to make sense of my notes – a 2005 Conca Tre Pile Barbera d’Alba rings a bell, as does a bottle of MDC from Dunham Froese Estate winery – 50% Cab Sauv, 25% Zin, 25% Syrah (try and picture that blend – it was marvelous), and some frisky local bubbly… And of course there was cheese – Qualicum Bay Brie (delicate, miniature, childlike, irresistible), Poplar Grove Tiger Blue (soft, sweetish, gentle, rich – a Cambridge blue, in other words, the thoft-thpoken antithesis of a butch Oxonian Stilton), an Okanagan goat cheese and a gouda from Triple Island Farms in Lumby. Tasha Howe paired them with local arlos lavender honey, organic Aurora apples, boozed-up figs and some super crackers from a company called Gone Crackers, in Vancouver. I’m afraid we lingered so long we closed the place. So much smashing local food, so much local pride – I think we’re going to be very happy holding the CCC in Kelowna, a swift, four-hour direct hop from Toronto. And there’s skiing.
Leaving The Rotten Grape, I encountered a young, eager, fresh-faced busker with a guitar. He was playing the Catalan nursery rhyme that Pablo Casals used to use as his encore piece when he was in his eighties and that became a virtual signature tune for the UN peaceniks during the Cold War. I don’t think the busker was born during the Cold War and he had not heard of Casals but for me it was a little piece of synchronicity as I had just finished reading The Cello Suites, a very cool book by Eric Siblin about Casals, Bach’s cello suites and the power of serendipity. I took it as a blessing on our CCC endeavour and left more than the usual buck in the troubadour’s guitar case. I think Kelowna will be a very cool location for the CCC.

 
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Greek aromas

14 May

To the Metropolitan hotel for a fascinating symposium on Greek wine given by the eloquent and profoundly knowledgeable John Szabo. He goes to Greece almost as often as I do and has devoted much energy to a study of the modern wine industry there. It’s unfortunate that so few of the excellent products enter our sphere of consciousness in Canada but hopefully that will change now that funds have been found to set up organisations in Toronto and Montreal that are virtually wine embassies for Greece. Expect to encounter far more high-quality krassi on restaurant wine lists in years to come.

To that end, perhaps, there seemed to be an exceptional number of sommeliers in Szabo’s audience. This time he concentrated on four grape varieties – moschofilero, aghiorgitiko, assyrtiko and xinomavro (his pronunciation was spot-on). Moschofilero is always a delight – our summertime house white on Corfu – as crisp, lightweight and refreshing as a pinot grigio from the Alto Adige but with an aromatic nose that sometimes reminds me of gewürztraminer or alvarinho and sometimes of torrontes. The assyrtiko wines Szabo chose were from Santorini – fantastically dense, full-bodied whites with negligible fruitiness but spectacular minerality. The vines produce hardly any fruit but are woven into living baskets in the barren volcanic soil to protect them from the ceaseless winds and scorching sun. He presented a decent Chablis alongside – a great idea – both wines are such ascetic conduits for their own terroir; and both are capable of almost infinite subtlety within their narrow spectra.

At lunchtime, when the symposium went downstairs for a fine, very un-Greek buffet and a chance to taste another 36 wines, I sought out the Santorini assyrtikos. Szabo had mentioned how unexpectedly well they had worked when paired with grilled lamb chops and indeed they stood up to everything the hotel threw at them, from salmon sashimi to kebabs. Vintages occasionally brings in one of these wines and they are always worth buying.

There was another epiphany waiting at the end of the event. I am a muscat freak and seek out any examples of the broad and rowdy and often magnificent muscat family whenever possible. I had hoped there might be some viscous, golden, sweet delight from Samos, such as Byron adored, but instead I found something much more vibrant. Patras is a seaport on the northern coast of the Peloponnese. They make a sweet red wine there from mavrodaphne and corinthiaki that is sometimes called “Greek port” by people with no palates at all and was often used as communion wine in the Church of England, when I was a choirboy. But they also press a sweet white wine from muscat grapes that have been picked and left to turn into raisins on beds of straw, like a Hellenic vin de paille. Parparousis is the producer of this bewitching elixir. Fabulously sweet but with a piercing acidity, like an icewine on steroids, it filled my head with its grapey muscat perfume. “Try it with some blue cheese,” said sommelier Christian Lupu, who was pouring on behalf of the importers (www.cavaspiliadis.com). Luckily there was a massive wedge of young moist Stilton over on the cheese table so I was able to take his advice. Oh yes. Yes indeed. The wickedly rich saltiness of the cheese was neatly balanced by the sweetness and acidity in the wine – like the ultimate gladiatorial battle of equally matched warriors fighting with totally different weapons. My mouth was the coliseum. Two thumbs up.

But blue cheese is like that. I can’t think of any other little food-group that provides so many earth-moving moments. Port and Stilton, obviously (and if you’ve never actually tried it, you haven’t lived). Also Ardbeg single malt whisky from Islay (the most phenolic one of the lot) and Cabrales, the Spanish blue: that one will dissolve your tongue. And here’s another: Featherstone gewurztraminer icewine from Niagara with German cambazola. Think about it… Gentler, creamier, heavier and more limpid, more floral – but awesome. Surround yourself with gardenias when you make the experiment just to gild the olfactory lily. You may never be seen again.

 
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Now then, where were we…?

07 May

My apologies for the long absence since the previous posting. I have been frantically busy for the last year, witness to some fascinating gastronomic moments which I will attempt to share when a quiet moment arises in the weeks to come. There will be more such moments now that Toronto Life and I have parted company. A couple of days ago, the magazine’s editor, Sarah Fulford, asked me in to the Verity members’ lounge for an espresso and explained that she was redesigning Toronto Life in time for the August issue and that I no longer fitted in with the plans. In truth, I have felt uncomfortable there for quite some time, the magazine’s current editorial tone not really in tune with the way I like to write. But it was a good run – 23 years as a columnist, writing about Toronto restaurants, a subject I love, for some extraordinary editors, starting with the incomparable Joseph Hoare.

Next day I was back in the same building for a happier occasion – a brilliant lunch in the private room at George with Paul Pontallier, general director of Château Margaux, and various illustrious colleagues. We tasted some delectable things, including Ch. Margaux 1996 and 2004, the latter a super wine with all the elegance, finesse, grace, perfume and balance of a great vintage but lacking only a modicum of extra intensity to be a great vintage, according to Pontallier. He made the wine sound like a dazzling beauty who can’t quite keep up with the conversation. As if anyone would really care…

To begin we tasted the white wine produced at Château Margaux, Pavillon Blanc 2008. This is a spectacular treat, first produced in 1920 and from 100 percent Sauvignon Blanc. The selection process is meticulous, with 60% of the total crop rejected in 2008 – even more in 2009. Ripe Sauvignon Blanc from this obsessively cherished vineyard tastes different from the varietal wines we’re typically used to – none of that shrieking vegetal character – especially when it has been flattered by a priceless oak program that encourages and educates the fruitiness and the floral aromas without leaving any obvious wooden mark. You would swear there was Semillon in there, but there isn’t. They only make about 800 cases of this white and it sells for around $400 a bottle, mostly to Japan and Russia. Interestingly, it is a much more robust food wine than one might imagine. Chef Lorenzo Loseto challenged it with a brilliant amuse of smoked black Alaskan cod over crushed shiitake mushrooms, a cube of rich cauliflower mousse, a little structure of white asparagus and orange fruit with a very tart vinaigrette – an intelligent and piercing cross-examination. The wine responded gracefully but firmly, never nonplussed.

I’m starting a new book that will attempt to describe all the most delicious things I have eaten and drunk in my life so far. I think the Pavillon Blanc will make it into the ms. As will Château Margaux 2009, still in barrel, if I ever have the opportunity to taste it. Paul Pontallier told us he had never seen a vintage like it – so fine – such tannins but such soft tannins – so elegant but also the most concentrated wine Château Margaux has ever made… And it’s still a baby, a long way from even being bottled. Something to dream about.

 
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Showing initiative

06 Mar

The restaurant industry has always given unstintingly of its blood, treasure and, more importantly, time whenever a good cause has arisen. Way above and beyond the call of duty, I’d say. Here is just one more example – an initiative called Stop For Food. Until Saturday March 28, no fewer than 26 Toronto restaurants are offering a locally focused prix fixe menu for $50 per person, with $10 of that being donated directly to The Stop Community Food Centre. I think it’s a brilliant way to promote local cuisine, help The Stop in its invaluable work and also support the restaurants involved. Here is the list of 26:

Alice’s Restaurant, Amuse-Bouche Restaurant, Batifole, Blu, C5 restaurant, Citizen, Cowbell, Crush, Czehoski, Fat Cat, Frank, H20, Gamelle, The Gladstone, Grano, The Harbord Room, Kaiseki Sakura, Marben, Niagara Street Café, Perigee Restaurant, Rosebud, Torito, Trevor Kitchen, Universal Grill, Vertical, Victor.

Cut the list out. Glue it to your fridge. Keep another copy in your wallet and another in your car. Let it become your default gazette of Toronto dining options now and for all time. These are the good guys.

But what if wine is your dearest love – and I mean really good wine – wine you cannot actually afford. Hie thee to Lucien where co-patron Simon Bower has devised a brilliant way to put savvy bums on seats. For the next few months he has slashed the usual mark-up on some very primo bottles. Examples? Luighi Righetti Amarone 2005 for a mere $58. Château de Maligny Chablis 2007 for $59. Lane Tanner Pinot Noir 2007 for $79. Domaine Leflaive Puligny Montrachet Clavoillion 1er Cru Burgundy for $137. And more than a dozen others. Bower calls the idea Great Wines for our Times but of course these wines are perennially great and these prices are extraordinary. Why, it’s almost as if you had a fabulous wine cellar of your own.

 
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Wine and Steak

16 Feb

The pursuit of excellence is at the heart of everything.

In that spirit, may I direct you to www.davidlawrason.com where the highly esteemed David Lawrason will enlighten you about his forthcoming series of wine lectures. He has teamed up with Canadian Living wine columnist and WineAlign.com critic, Anne Martin, to present a spring series of seminars focused on wine value. Called “Where in the World are the Best Wine Values”, it’s a series of eight tastings on Wednesday nights in March and April at a newly renovated space at the St. Lawrence Market in Toronto. Guests can sign up for one, some, or all. Themes include South Africa (David has just returned from the Cape full of enthusiasm for the products of the world’s most picturesque wine country), Argentina and Southern Italy. Describing the series he explains, “It’s something new and affordable for those who just refuse to give up on exploring and enjoying wine in tough times.” I recommend you join him there asap.

The same must be said for the extraordinary event now taking place at Allen’s, Toronto’s most accomplished Irish-American saloon, up there on the Danforth. I wrote about this two years ago (blimey, how time flies!) and now it is upon us again, the ultimate experience for those who crave the taste and texture of steak. The proprietor of Allen’s, John Maxwell (who will be in my league of nine gastronomical superheroes when the Final Battle is fought to free the palate and the intellect of mankind from the hands of the sly priests and the professors whose mouths are gorged with sawdust, and the merchants who sell blades of grass – the awful people of the Fomor, in other words, as identified by Mr Stephens) has again revived his Steak Festival, which lasts until February 22, 2009.

For those who have never indulged, this is Canada’s (perhaps the World’s) most telling and convivial forensic exploration of the quality of beef. On the menu are striploins, rib-eyes, bone-in rib steaks, tenderloins and prime rib from specific farms – many different breeds of cow, the creatures raised and then finished on many different feeds, the meat aged for many different lengths of time. Forget the laboured old comparisons of Canadian beef and USDA Prime (whatever that is – though Maxwell includes one decent example as a sort of scapegoat) – this is truly interesting. Here is a wagyu-Angus cross from Patrick McCarthy’s farm in Camrose, Alberta, hormone- and antibiotic-free, fed hay, barley, wheat, corn and oats, the meat aged 28 days. Compare it with its antithesis, the lean-as-venison James Cagney of all beef cattle, a Dexter steer from Ron and Adele Service’s Black Walnut Lane farm in Millgrove, Ont., also hormone- and antibiotic-free, fed on grass, hay, corn and corn silage, aged 24 days. You get the picture – and there are 20 other unique steak experiences to compare. Maxwell has met the individual animals in question and can vouch for their pedigree. I strongly suggest you gather a group of aficionados, mosey to Allen’s, gather around a big table and order one or two of each steak. You will go home with an unprecedented knowledge of the best steak Canada has to offer.

But what will you sozzle while conducting all these experiments? The wine list that Maxwell has assembled is a museum-quality manifesto of what Ontario can achieve. Dozens of rare Ontario masterpieces including such treasures as Chateau des Charmes Equuleus 2001 ( not a typo – it is the 2001) and Reif Estate Tesoro 1995 are assembled for your pleasure and education. He has even thrown in a couple of ringers from out west – Nk’Mip 2002 Pinot Noir and Jackson-Triggs Okanagan Meritage Reserve 2002 – to make the point.

February is so weird, such a zigzag-crazy month anyway, why not become a master of Canadian beef and wine? You will never regret the expertise you acquire.

 
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