Vacationing Around the Island

A Spooky Manhattan for 2021!

Hello friends, far and near. Here's hoping your 2021 is off to a decent start. I mean, 2020 set a pretty low bar, but what can you do.

Since we couldn't travel this year, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I tried our best to recreate a version of a culinary-themed vacation here at home. Our "Island vacation" was around our stove, but we still managed to have a pretty good go at it.

If you'd like to follow along, I've got a Twitter thread of our various meals and recipes going here.  

If Twitter isn't your thing, you can read all the tweets in a single page at this link. 

I think we've done pretty well for ourselves. We are so very fortunate!

Cheers! Happy New Year!

Benham's Barrel-Finished Gin -- A Fascinating, Perplexing Spirit

We've been on a bit of a barrelling kick here in Vineland. We've done a couple of stories on bourbon-barrel aged wine -- and I've seen more and more beers marketed as "aged in barrels," usually whiskey or wine. A natural outgrowth, I expect, of the worldwide bourbon boom. After all, bourbon barrels can only be used once for whiskey, and all these old barrels gotta go somewhere. 

I'm certainly all for waste not-want not.

Inevitable, then, that this desire for upcycling old spirit storage would start to land in other reaches of the world of potent potables. I got to try a rather unique concoction recently -- one that still puzzles me a bit.

Gentle readers -- meet D. George Benham's Barrel Finished Gin.

I know -- that last word done threw you for a loop, didn't it? Gin -- that most aromatic of hard liquors, greeted immediately with a partisan facial expression, depending on the drinker's perspective. In all my travels, gin is the most divisive spirit, in my estimation. Personally, I'm in the "pro" category, but I'm usually a traditionalist when it comes to these -- Martinis, Negronis, summertime gin & tonics...you know the drill.

But the Benham's is a different animal altogether. From Graton Distillery in Sonoma, CA -- Benham's is made in the traditional gin fashion. If you're unfamiliar, gin starts out as most liquors do -- as a neutral, usually grain based spirit. Once there's a base spirit -- basically pure ethanol -- it is redistilled with a bunch of aromatics, usually based around juniper. Benham's includes other botanicals like buddha's hand, grains of paradise, galangal, meyer lemon, and others.

Benham has produced a relatively small-batch gin for some time, but this year -- they're rolling out their barrel-aged version. This version of the gin is aged for a period of time in used Zinfandel barrels, a varietal they landed on after trying several other varietal barrels.   “We experimented a lot. We used Pinot, Syrah, and even Chardonnay barrels. The Zinfandel barrels have the right spiciness that plays well with our local Northern California botanicals such as lemon,” explained Jeff Duckhorn, the master distiller of the product.

Now, aging gins on wood isn't exactly a new thing. The precursor to gin is a Dutch spirit called genever. There are two versions -- neue genever, which is clear and oude genever, which is aged on wood and -- I was informed -- is only consumed by older folk. When I first tried -- and enjoyed! -- it in Amsterdam at age 41, I was informed that I was now the "youngest Oude Genever fan in the Netherlands."

I sat down one evening with the Sweet Partner in Crime and some nosing glasses to give this a run. Our first reaction was universally positive. If you're a gin fan, you'll love the aromatics on this spirit. There's the juniper, lemon, and spice aromas that you'd expect, but with an undertone of freshly cut wood and some neat vanilla scents and flavors. We had it on a couple of rocks first and liked it -- but neither of us tends to take our gin straight like that.

I started cocktailing. I tried to make a martini with it, but the flavors weren't right. The crispness was somewhat lost. A gin and tonic was better -- but not mindblowing. I did a little research on aged gins -- there are a few others out there -- and some bartenders have subbed this gin into other cocktails in place of bourbon.

I made a Manhattan with it -- and it was certainly an interesting cocktail which I dubbed the Fort Lee, since it's Manhattan-adjacent. Found it to be good, but next to my normal recipe that I make with Bulleit Rye, it didn't measure up. I also tried it in a Negroni, and I didn't think the botanicals played well with the Campari. It ended up *really* bitter, which might be a positive for some drinkers.

Here's the thing. I like the gin. I would recommend this gin. I just don't know what I would do with the gin on a regular basis. Perhaps this would appeal more to someone who's more of a gin-on-the-rocks person than I am. Because it really is lovely to sip. If you have a gin aficianado in your circle and you can find a bottle of this, they'll probably appreciate it.

Benham's Barrel-Finished Gin retails for $42.99 for a fifth.

The Wine Headache Hazard

No one can work with wine without tipping back too much from time to time. The morning after. The headache, the nausea, and the sun, as Nicholas Klar once wrote, "is like God's flashlight." Nobody to blame but yourself.

But what if the pain isn't your fault? What if you only had a glass or two and your head feels like Zeus on Athena’s birthday? At a wine tasting I led, two different people shared versions of, "I like wine -- but I can't drink it. If I even sip the stuff, I get a massive headache." Is there a code we can crack to avoid this malady?

One explanation I hear often: "It's the sulfites in the wine! Red wine has all these sulfites in the U.S. I've gone to [insert European country of your choice here] and the wine doesn't have sulfites in it, so I can drink it just fine. And I can drink white wine until the cows come home, but red wines just lay me out." I do enjoy Italian whites, so I sampled Palazzone 2015 “Terre Vineate” Orvieto Classico Superiore. ($13-15) This wine has a nose of flowers and licorice. It's medium bodied with some soft citrusy flavors and a little bit of oak. It has a very easy finish. Tasty to drink on its own, but with shellfish or a light fish dish, it's very nice.

After a little digging into the sulfite question, I discovered there is such a thing as a sulfite allergy. So, find unsulfited wines and you're fine, right? Well, not exactly. Sulfite allergies are  pretty rare. People with sulfite allergies generally can't eat dried fruit and the like, and if their allergies kick in, they tend to end up with breathing problems, not headaches.

Still, if you want to avoid sulfites, stick to whites, right? Wrong. White wines almost always have more sulfites than red wines. Sulfites are preservatives. Whites, in general, need more protection from spoilage as the wine gets older. Red wine has a natural preservative built in to the mix: tannin, which comes from the skins of grapes as well as from barrel aging. Wines built to age well are usually tannic, so…maybe tannin is our headache culprit.

For a low tannin wine example, think something along the lines of DuBoeuf 2015 Brouilly Beaujolais ($15-17). Gamay grapes, from which Beaujolais is made, are naturally low in tannin. This wine sports a fairly strong nose of cherries and blackberries. There's plenty of cherry and cola flavors balanced nicely with a solid acidity. Nice crisp finish, too. It cuts nicely through spices, like in the Thai beef noodle soup I made to go with it.

Drinking tannic beverages – drinks like red wine, black tea, and coffee -- can cause a release of serotonin in the brain, and studies have shown that high levels of serotonin can trigger a migraine. However, wine's not the only source of tannin in one’s diet, and no one I know has ever complained of a coffee or chocolate headache.

A third possibility is histamines. Histamines occur in many fermented foods and high exposure levels can trigger an allergic reaction brought on by a lack of a certain enzyme in the bloodstream. This reaction can cause headaches, skin flushing, or runny nose. The levels of histamines in red wines are between 20-200% higher than in whites. Spanish reds are often lower in histamines, so I tried the Martin Codax 2014 "Ergo" Rioja Tempranillo. ($13-15) The nose contains dark fruit and spices, almost like cherry cobbler. The wine's lighter than it smells. Some nice berry flavors and well-balanced light tannins lead to a finish which is easy and somewhat dry.

Histamines seem a somewhat more likely culprit for the headaches, although there hasn't been conclusive research on the effects of low vs. high histamine wines. Even so, if a person is susceptible to the reaction, there are natural defenses against histamines. Compounds exist in tea, especially black or oolong tea, which suppress the histamine response. Drinking a cup of strong tea before consuming red wine might help, as could taking an aspirin before drinking. An antihistamine might also stop the headache if the headache has already kicked in, but you might be in for a very short night if you pop a Benadryl after a couple of glasses of wine.

If you are one of those unfortunate souls who thinks they suffer from "red wine headaches," there's a simple (potentially painful) test. Drink half a glass of red wine on an empty stomach. If the wine is truly the cause of your headache, you'll get one within 15 minutes. Otherwise, it's not the wine itself that buried a hatchet in your forehead.

More likely, your fear of headaches likely stems from a good old fashioned hangover. The sheer amount of wine, and the memory of the pain the next morning, probably has more to do with it. B-12, Gatorade, ginger ale, and a sub from Penn Station the next morning are better bets, in that case.

Review: Mighty Mug – A Beverage Threat Reduction System

What’s your typical level of clumsy? 

If you have ballerina-level grace or Messi-quality balance, this product likely isn’t your bag. But if you talk with your hands, enjoy cocktails on a porch or a boat, or just bump into things more often than you might like (any of which could easily apply to yours truly), then you might find the Mighty Mug an intriguing addition to your barware collection.

“Mighty Mug” drinkware – which includes wine glasses, beer pint and pilsner glasses, Old Fashioned glasses, and travel mugs – are all equipped with a special base which the company calls Smartgrip. This rubber footing is designed to create a strong vacuum if the mug is nudged from the side, preventing the glass from toppling over. Lifted straight up, however, it behaves as a normal glass. To wit:

I had the opportunity to test the wine stems and beer pints from Mighty Mug’s collection.

My thoughts:

• On a smooth or finished surface – countertop, dining room table, computer desk, etc. – the mug performs well. Almost too well sometimes. I learned from the Mighty Mug that I tend to tilt a glass slightly when I lift it. The Mug didn’t much care for my technique, keeping the vessel locked in place until I lifted straight up.
• That said, on surfaces that are anything less than perfectly smooth – say, a table with a “lightly mosaic-ed” tile top, or the wooden arm of an Adirondack chair, the Mighty Mug behaves like a normal glass. In other words, if it ain’t smooth, don’t bump it.
• I could see the Mighty Mug being of real use on a boat or other moving conveyance. On a smooth surface, changes in direction won’t make the glass slide around with potentially disastrous results.
• The enemy of the Mighty Mug, I found, is dust and dirt. When I was testing, there was a stretch of bad pollen days. Most of the outdoor surfaces were covered in the light pollen dust. That dust worked its way into the mechanism, causing the Mug’s adherent properties to fade. The makers of the Mug provide care instructions for reactivating the stickiness, but it would be a good idea to clean the bases on a regular basis.
• My biggest issue with the Mighty Mug, at the end of the day, is that its greatest strengths – durability and stability – are a major aesthetic weakness. The base is quite thick, and while that doesn’t detract too much from the pint glass, it looks a bit odd for the wine glass. Also, necessarily, the Mighty Mug is made out of fairly thick shatterproof plastic. And drinking wine or a pint out of plastic barware, at least for me, detracts from the overall experience. If I’m on a picnic or some such, that’s acceptable, but if I’m relaxing at home – I’d rather use my usual stemware.

All in all, I can see the utility – especially if you’re either out and about or working at a desk where a spill might fry your phone or other electronics. Take that into account before deciding if Mighty Mug is right for you. You can order them from the Mighty Mug website or at any number of other retailers.

Ten Years On

Psst…stick with me and I’ll tell you a big wine secret. But before I do, I’m going to take a little me-time.

The Sweet Partner in Crime and I bonded early in our relationship over the “Windows on the World Complete Wine Course” – a book by Kevin Zraly which included information about wines of all countries and, most importantly, appropriate foods to pair with those wines. We cooked and drank up a storm.

The Naked Vine Team then...

Then we took a trip together to Sonoma County and wine truly became part of our lifestyle. The die was cast on our oenological obsession for the next decade. Zins and Pinots, Cabs and Chardonnays, Shiraz and Sauvignon Blanc – we worked our way through regions and grapes willy-nilly, loving the learning of it all.

Then came the infamous happy hour at a local place called the Beer Sellar. An old friend dropped the line that became my mantra. I quote my buddy Scott: “It’s easy to find a good fifty-dollar bottle of wine. The trick is to find a good ten-dollar bottle of wine.”

The Naked Vine sprouted from the Stone IPA-drenched corners of my mind. I built the blog and posted my first column not long after, back in the days when the Internet wasn’t accessible from most phones, much less your refrigerator or thermostat. The idea of being a “blogger” still had a certain geek stigma. In tasting rooms, wineries didn’t really know what to make of someone who wrote “where only a few people could read it.”

Times changed. I pumped out my content, did a little self-promotion, and was lucky enough to have my then-online-only column picked up by several print outlets, which I felt finally gave me some legitimacy.

Everything didn’t go smoothly at first. I was still learning about wine (and I still am, honestly!) as I was cranking out columns, so I made some early mistakes. I wrote a column once where I mixed up Burgundy and Bordeaux, stating the latter was made from pinot noir. (It’s not.) I name checked Rioja multiple times as a Spanish grape. (It’s not.) And I can’t tell you how many times I misspelled Riesling. (Still do.)

The SPinC and I ate picked up steam and our palates improved enough to be dangerous. I got asked to sample some wines before they went into wide release from time to time, which is cool.

I’ve had the opportunity to meet some truly intriguing people. From pourers at tasting rooms to winemakers and grape growers, there aren’t many industries where you’ll meet as broad a spectrum of humanity. They’ve all got fascinating stories. Almost none of them intended to go into the wine industry. In previous lives, they were engineers, chefs, bankers, artists – all of whom got seduced along the way by The Grape.

We’ve watched wine trends come and go – watching chardonnay go from big and buttery to thin and unoaked and back again. High alcohol Zinfandel gave way to lighter-styled, earthy pinots. Merlot has finally started to come back out from under its Sideways-placed rock. And the breadth of “Old World” wine has expanded beyond Italy, France, and Germany to any number of other countries in the EU and Eurasia. If you like options, there’s never been a better time to be a wine drinker.

That brings us to today. So, you ready for the secret? You wanna know the One Big Thing I’ve learned over the last decade?

Finding a decent $10 bottle of wine isn’t tricky anymore.

When I’ve written in this space about countries expanding and modernizing their respective wine industries, the regular refrain is, “Improvements in technology have increased the quality and output of [insert country]’s wine.” This technological improvement allowed South America, Australia, and other countries to export very decent juice at low cost.

As decent, low cost wine from the global marketplace began filling store US shelves, large domestic winemakers realized that they couldn’t continue mass producing cheap-ass, low quality plonk when a discerning drinker could slap seven or eight bucks down on the counter for a decent bottle of Malbec from Argentina or Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. Overall quality kept rising.

These days, stores are filled with decent, inexpensive wines. Mind you, these aren’t the greatest wines on the planet. Fifteen to twenty dollars is the general price point where there’s a real jump in a wine’s caliber, and these less expensive wines aren’t usually all that distinguishable from one another except in label design. For ten smackers, though, you’re not likely to crack a bottle and say, “That’s completely awful.”

The Naked Vine Team now.

Take heart, wine cheapskates. Until climate change pushes wine production north to England and Scandinavia, you’re going to find plenty of flat-out drinkable, non-wallet-busting juice. Buy with confidence.

With all that in mind, I’m proud to say that this little corner of the wine world is still going strong. There’s always something new – new production techniques, new grapes, new blends – coming down the pike. The Naked Vine will be here to help you navigate as long as my liver holds out.

I’d like to offer my hearty thanks to the hundreds (thousands, some days) of people who make their way to the Vine each day for some oenological nugget or other. It’s still my pleasure to be drinkin’ with you. 

For Goodness...Sake?

“You know that in the back of every sushi restaurant there’s a guy going, ‘Hey, look! They ate it! You want some hot wine to go with that, too?” – from “An Evening With Robin Williams”

I remember hearing that line at my friend Dave’s way back in the early days of cable. Dave figured out how to set the tuner on his VCR to get access to free HBO. Comedy specials, Excalibur, and Heavy Metal ensued.

Before I get lost in nostalgia, let’s get back to the late great Mr. Williams and his coke-fueled special, which is still one of the greatest pieces of standup ever committed to film, or tape, or whatever digitally remastered media you want to mention. (And the man’s pants. The pants. See for yourself...)

Anyway, the “hot wine” that he’s referring to is Sake. Sake is one of the native drinks of the nation of Japan. Sake is a fermented beverage made from rice. The process of creating sake is an interesting one – and bears more similarity to the making of beer than wine. Sake, however, is classified as a wine, as it’s typically bottled somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15% alcohol.

For many years, most Americans only knew inexpensive sake – either served hot with a meal like a tea or dropped as a shot into a pint of beer (the unfortunate “sake bomb”). Sake makers are exporting more and more premium sake into the States, providing another alcohol alternative for thirsty connoisseurs of Asian (and other) cuisines.

Sake, as we’ve mentioned, comes from rice. Sake rice, known as saka mai, is grown only for beverage production. It’s not really suitable for eating.

The first step of sake production exposes the rice grain through milling or polishing. This was once done by hand (or, more accurately, by foot by stepping on the grains) but is now done mechanically. The rice bran is polished away, leaving the grain behind. The amount of polishing done determines the quality category of the beverage. Cheap “table wine” sake-bomb sake (known as futsuu-shu) may be milled to 80% of original weight, where the ultra-premium junmai-daiginjo is milled to 50%.

Once the rice is milled, the grains are washed to remove residue and soaked to increase the moisture levels in the grain. The rice is then cooked by steaming, with a portion of the total amount held back to create the fermenting starter, which is where the process really gets interesting.

Sake rice (and rice in general) does not have the naturally fermentable starches that grains like wheat and barley do, so the existing starches in the rice grain must be converted. There is a particular type of beneficial mold, called koji-kin, that is sprinkled on a portion of the rice. This mold penetrates the rice kernel. The inoculated rice is called koji. At this point, the koji is added to the rest of the rice, along with more water and a particular brand of yeast. Several batches of koji are added over the course of the fermenting process. The mold converts the starches to sugars, which are consumed by the yeast – at which point alcohol is produced. The product at the end is then pressed, filtered, pasteurized, and allowed to age for 3-12 months before bottling.

If you’re exploring the world of premium sake, you’ll run into two classifications most commonly. Those are junmai (pronounced JOON-mai) and junmai-ginjo (JOON-mai GEEN-joe). “Junmai” means that what you’re drinking is straight sake. Lower grades of sake are often bottled after some neutral alcohol is added. The primary difference is the percentage of “milling.” The more the rice is milled, the higher the quality (and price) in general.

These versions of sake tend to have very light bouquets but fairly upfront flavors, they can be slightly sweet and fruity, and can be slightly acidic. Premium sake (basically anything above the quality of futsuu-shu) should be served at room temperature or slightly chilled. Heating sake, like heating any spirit, basically kills the aromatics.

I received a couple of sample bottles of sake from Ty Ku – one of the larger sake houses in Japan – Ty Ku Silver (junmai -- $16) and Ty Ku Black (junmai-ginjo -- $22). I’m not a sake connoisseur – and I honestly haven’t had a glass of sake in quite some time when I tried these. The Silver has a light pear nose, which is mirrored on the palate. Beneath the fruit is an alcohol flavor with a little bit of an alcoholic kick. There’s also a melon flavor that builds a bit. The first taste is a bit jarring. It eases into something a little more pleasant after drinking a bit. As for the Black, the flavor is much more gentle. The flavors are fairly similar, but they’re softer, more even and easier to work with for my palate.

Honestly, neither of them would be drinks that I would ordinarily have a craving for on their own. I tried a little of each with some tuna and salmon sushi rolls. I thought the sake was certainly better with sushi than on its own (especially if there were some wasabi on the rolls).

The other use I’ve seen for sake is as a mixer. It gets subbed in for dry vermouth in some recipes, like sake versions of martinis, gibsons, or cosmos – or for vodka, in something like a “sakedriver” with orange juice. All things being equal, it was certainly a flavor twist, but I personally preferred the classic versions.

Sake’s an interesting twist on your normal aperitif or mixer. If you’re going to give them a try, don’t go for the bargain basement stuff. Drop a little coin on a bottle of junmai-ginjo and decide if these flavors are your thing. If you like it, off to the races. If you don’t, then use the rest of the bottle as you would rice wine vinegar in your favorite Asian recipes. No muss, no fuss.

COCO Cocktail -- An Idea Whose Time Has Come...for Some.

Years ago, back in my single days, I remember hanging out with some of my besties at my bachelor pad, quaffing some of my homebrews and probably watching a basketball game. The conversation turned, at one point, to different beer flavors.

Now, this was in the days before the craft beer boom -- when now-standard stuff like Sierra Nevada and Sam Adams were considered cocks of the walk. I'd done one of my first attempts at a flavored beer -- a knockoff of Magic Hat #9 that had a nice undertone of apricot -- as well as a slightly boosted alcohol level -- but I digress.

Anyway, I mused about why no one ever made vitamin-enriched beer. It would seem pretty straightforward -- add some baby vitamins before bottling, and a sixer could get you 100% RDA of all your vitamins and minerals. In a merciful turn, I never attempted that little experiment.

Fast forward a sizable chunk of years, and at my door arrives a sample of an interesting new alcoholic beverage called Coco Cocktail #REFRESH -- a concoction declaring itself an "all-natural electrolyte-charged 70% coconut water" which is "a good source of vitamins." As you can see from the nutrition facts, there is actual nutritional value within -- and a 4 pack would get you close to 100% RDA of Vitamins A, C, D, E, B1, and B6. There are also 14g of carbs within and it's gluten free, if you're concerned about such things.

This hashtaggy can of lightly carbonated beverage is labeled as a "wine specialty" -- meaning a flavored fermented beverage made from something other than typical grapes. It stands at 5.6% ABV, so it's in the ballpark of a typical IPA. The "wine specialty" in this case is that the alcohol comes from orange wine, which I assume is not the same version that Poussey produced on Orange in the New Black.

"Enough, dude -- what does it actually taste like?"

I received two cans of the stuff. The first one I had on its own. It's lightly carbonated and not overly heavy bodywise. I expected it to be heavier than it was, but it's not overly cloying. The flavor is strongly citrus and fairly sweet. The Sweet Partner in Crime and I kept trying to nail down what it reminded us of. It seems to be at an intersection of original Gatorade, Fresca, and sour mix, minus any of that aspartame/Nutrasweet aftertaste. If a beverage in that particular flavor range appeals to you -- you'll probably dig this.

It drinks pretty easily. I can see putting one away pretty quickly if you had a mind to do so. It wouldn't be my first choice of alcoholic beverage, unless I were in a situation where I'd crave a sports drink -- like after working in the yard all day or needing a replenish after overindulging the night before. It'd be a good hair-of-the-dog, if you didn't have bloody mary makings handy.

I imagined it would make a decent mixer, so I tested out can #2 in that frame. Honestly, my days of drinking sour mix-based cocktails are largely in the rear view. (Pampero Anniversario on the rocks, please...)  For science, however, I decided to cobble together a couple of drinks using Coco Cocktail #REFRESH as a replacement for sour mix. I made miniature versions of a Tom Collins, a margarita, and an Amaretto sour. The Collins didn't work -- coconut and gin don't shake hands. Since the Coco Cocktail is less sweet than most sour mixes, I thought it improved the other two drinks -- cutting back the sugary edge a bit and smoothing out the mouthfeel.

[Remember -- it's 5.6%, so adjust the alcohol levels accordingly. Or don't.]

I can certainly see the appeal of an alcoholic sports-ish drink or a mixer that could act as a party cocktail amplifier. Back at the bachelor pad, I'd probably have kept a pack of these around my stash of tequila and Grand Marnier for spontaneous margaritas. And we'd have toasted our smarts for drinking healthy.

COCO Cocktail retails for $8.99 for a 4-pack.

All About Olive Oil

One nice thing about my little wine adventure is occasionally being asked to do samples of other gastronomically-themed items. Restaurants, decanters, wine chillers – these have all been brought under my umbrella. Today brings a new one – high-end olive oil.

The good folks at Ancient Olive Trees asked me to sample some of their artisanal olive oil. As anyone who’s spent any time poking around my writing knows – the Sweet Partner in Crime and I cook quite a bit, and olive oil is a staple in our kitchen.

Since Rachel Ray softly cooed about EVOO, the use of olive oil in many American kitchens exploded. American consumers go through about 80 million gallons of olive oil per year, only about 2% of which is actually produced in the United States. The U.S. has been steadily increasing domestic production – both among large, factory farmed oils and smaller producers like Ancient Olive Trees, which is headquartered in California.

Olive trees need temperate-to-warm climates to thrive. Olive oil is currently produced in California, Arizona, Texas, Georgia, Florida, Oregon and Hawaii. (I can attest to the Arizona production. When I was in graduate school out there, I discovered that the blooming of olive trees gives me hay fever something awful.) Most oils come from olives harvested and pressed when they’re green.

As you know, there are different classifications of olive oil. Most of the world uses a system based on guidelines set by the International Olive Oil Council (IOOC). The U.S. uses a USDA classification which predates the IOOC. (As American olive oil production grows, there is some movement towards joining the IOOC standards.) Either way, there are three basic varieties of edible oils: extra virgin, virgin, and standard olive oil.

Now, if you’re like me and have the sense of humor of an average 12-year-old, you’ve snickered at the notion of anything being “extra virgin.” The nomenclature doesn’t have anything to do with the quick pressing of the olives or the dating habits of the trees. Instead, the chemical composition, processing, and flavor are what creates the distinction among the various types.

 

Olive trees in Greece

Extra virgin and virgin olive oils are created from the first pressing of the olives, which removes about 90% of the olive juice. These oils can have no further refining or processing after pressing. The backbone of the definition is the amount of oleic acid present in the oil. The less acid, the better. The premium extra-virgin oils have less than .225% oleic acid. The cutoff for extra-virgin in the U.S. is 1%. As the acidity level increases, we move through the various “virgin” categories, until we reach “semi-fine virgin oil.” We rarely see stand-alone oils considered “virgin” in the U.S.

Once the acid level gets above 3.3%, or there are flaws in color, flavor, or aroma which render the oil “unfit for human consumption” – these oils are generally refined with heat, chemicals, and or filtration. The result is a nearly colorless, flavorless oil. They are then generally blended with one of the aforementioned virgin olive oils to impart a little flavor. These are the standard “olive oils” you see for cooking or packing food. There is also “pomace oil” made from paste left over after pressing and refining.

One culinary note: If you’re really into dressing, drizzling, or dipping, the flavors of an extra-virgin oil can be a real enhancement. However, actually cooking with extra-virgin olive oil is really a bit of a waste. While there are some inexpensive extra-virgin oils which might be considered “dual use,” what sets extra-virgin oil apart from regular olive oils is the subtlety of flavor. Heating an extra-virgin olive oil to its smoking point denatures the flavor compounds, rendering it little different from regular olive oil. For the stove, regular olive oil is a superior choice.

This brings us to our Ancient Olive Trees sample. We tried a side-by-side-by-side comparison of the AOT oil alongside a store-brand extra-virgin oil and an extra-virgin oil from Hawkes in Sonoma.

The differences were pretty striking, especially between the two “artisanal” oils and the store-brand stuff. The store brand stuff tasted like…well…oil. There was an olive flavor, but it didn’t have a great deal of complexity. The Ancient Olive Trees oil had a sweeter, lively flavor, with a little bit of an antioxidant zing in the back of the throat. The finish was smooth, somewhat fruity, and tasted a bit of hazelnut. The Hawkes oil was stronger and spicier, with an almost peppery note at the finish. I preferred the Hawkes on its own, followed closely by the AOT.

 

Mmm...Caprese salad...

With food, we had some farm-fresh tomatoes from the farmshare, so with some of our garden basil, we put together a nice Caprese salad for lunch. More specifically, we did a couple of small Capreses. The AOT oil was the winner among the three for a simple preparation like this – as it  had enough zestiness to make the olive oil a distinct player in the flavor, but it didn’t overwhelm the tomatoes, as the Hawkes did a bit.

There is, of course, the question of price. The high end extra virgin oils can be pricey. Ancient Olive Trees sells a 375ml bottle of their olive oil for $25 + $5 shipping, so it’s not really inexpensive. You can get a gallon can of the “dual use” store brand stuff for the same price, which doesn’t have the same breadth and depth of flavor.

If you think of olive oil as more of a condiment – if you’re a compulsive drizzler, dipper, or dresser – then having something around that’s a bit more high-end might be a nice bit of culinary pampering. Most oils of this quality will start at $20-30, so this would be a good option if you’d like to explore the world of oil. If all you’re doing is glugging it in a pan – you have better options.

As an aside, Ancient Olive Trees also does sell established olive trees. You can grow your own – but only if you live in hardiness zones 9 through 11, which means that you’re getting long, hot summers and temperate winters. Not going to be raising many anywhere near the Ohio river, but if you’re one of my far-flung readers and you’re looking for some new outdoor décor, just an option…

The Gustatory Glories of Grand Case, St. Martin -- A Naked Vine Vacation

“Grand Case? Why’ja wanna go to Grand Case?”

–cab driver in Philipsburg, St. Maarten.

“For lunch.”

--The Sweet Partner in Crime.

Just leave me here. Grand Case Beach.

Most visitors to St. Martin, especially those with cruise-ship itinerary chunks of time, beeline to Maho Beach to watch planes come in low over crystal blue waters, foray to Orient Beach for clothes-optional sunning, charter tours to the countless dive and snorkel sites, or simply hit the extensive shopping in Philipsburg and Marigot. Not us.

This particular glass of rosé, to be accurate.

Two days into 2014, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I stepped off a ship in Philipsburg. Powered by the notes in our Fodor’s guide and a desire to be away from tour groups, we hailed a cab to Grand Case to spend a few hours in “the culinary capital of the Caribbean.” Two and a half years later, we returned, making good on our promise to “come back and park it for a week” made at a beachfront table at Ocean82 over a cool glass of rosé.

St. Martin takes up less than 34 square miles in total area, but contains two countries. The northern half is the Collectivity of St. Martin, a French territory. The southern half is Sint Maarten, part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. The two nations peacefully coexist, and one can cruise the N7 highway through the from one country into the other without noticing. The French side, wherein lies Grand Case, is hillier and more lush than the flatter, more developed, Dutch side.

Grand Case, originally a small fishing village ringed by cotton plantations, evolved into one of the Caribbean’s  premier destinations for gourmet food. There are more than 30 restaurants along Boulevard de Grand Case, the main beachfront drag, many of them of four-and-five star quality. The cuisine leans heavily on the French and Creole history and heritage, made fresh since many of the featured entrees were swimming mere minutes before.

Our home base for the trip was the lovely Hotel L’Esplanade, perched on the hill overlooking the east end of Grand Case Beach. Excellent service, beautiful rooms, massage and yoga studios, and walking distance to everything in the town. You really need a car to explore the island, and the hotel has an arrangement with a local rental car company (Justice Car Rental) to provide a free shuttle from the airport with your vehicle waiting at the hotel. A very nice, anxiety-reducing perk after flying all day.

Before sharing our restaurant experiences, a couple of quick notes about dining in Grand Case. Remember that you’re in a French territory. While language is no barrier to your experience, having a few words of French in your back pocket should improve the service you receive. (The Sweet Partner still had come of her old chops with le français, and they proved invaluable.)

The service at most restaurants is quite “European,” in that if you expect your check the second after you finish eating, you’re going to be frustrated. Just allow yourself to be on island time – no worries, no hurries – and you’ll be fine. Your check at a restaurant usually doesn’t include a tip, so leave 10-15% in cash for your server

Along those lines, “cash is king” on St. Martin. Everyone gladly accepts US dollars – and they’ll usually give you a $1=1€ exchange rate if you pay cash. Credit cards are also fine, but you’ll pay the day’s exchange rate in Euro plus a transaction fee.

Without further ado, let’s go to the beach…

Day 1:

Not kidding about "oceanside dining" at Calmos Cafe.

We started our adventure with dinner at Calmos Café, a beach club and restaurant very close to our hotel. We dined on a picnic table at waterside – literally…the Caribbean Sea kissed our toes as we ate. A smoked marlin dip gave way to ultra-fresh filets of triggerfish with zucchini-potato gratin and snapper with rice and mixed veggies – alongside the first of many bottles of Provence rosé. Utterly fresh and wonderful all around. We ended up with leftovers, which the SPinC turned into a lovely fish hash the next morning in our room’s kitchen. We watched the sunset from the beach and headed back up to the hotel to recover from our travels.

Day 2:

After a long walk down the length of the beach to refamiliarize ourselves with the place, we ended up at the Sunset Café at the Grand Case Beach Club, feeling a bit overheated. We went with beer and a plate of fish carpaccio as a nosh as we cooled off. I believe it was likely snapper. Again, super-fresh and tasty.

We headed back to the hotel for a couple of massages we’d booked before heading back out to dinner at Le Tastevin, where we scored another waterside table. We started with tuna tartare as an appetizer. Pam had beef cheek ravioli in a morel mushroom sauce, while I had one of the most heavenly roast duck preparations I’ve ever tasted alongside a sweet potato mash. Dessert was a delicious cheese plate. Arguably the best of a bunch of great meals.

Duck (and the ravioli) at Le Tastevin. Divine.

Day 3:

We started the day hoping to get to a grocery store to pick up some provisions for the room. We followed the directions to the “Super-U” in nearby Marigot, only to find it closed for a power outage. We circumnavigated the island and found a Fresh Market on the Dutch side just outside Philipsburg to stock up. After dropping off our food, we headed back out to Bacchus, a contemporary French lunch spot/gourmet grocery.

The first challenge with Bacchus is finding the place. It’s located at the back of a large outdoor “lifestyle center,” so it took a couple of false starts to get there. This was the most “French” restaurant we went to (for instance, the specials board was only written in French). We started with some delicious escargot, followed by a shrimp, scallop, and chorizo pasta for me and a Black Angus beef tartare for Pam. We relaxed and noshed over some more wine while listening to a group of American businessmen (an American flag shirt? Really?) ask the server if their entrees “were going to take awhile…” Spoiler alert – they did.

Bacchus filled us up pretty well, so by the time dinner rolled around, we weren’t super hungry. We decided to pop into a restaurant we couldn’t resist, “Le Cave De Charly.” (“Charlie” being our sweet canine boy, of course.) This small, low-slung restaurant has made a name for itself with a great wine list, fresh simple fish preparations, and excellent cheese and charcuterie. In other words, perfect for our appetites. We split a very fresh piece of marlin (the owner, Ludovic, showed me a picture of that particular marlin that his friends had caught that morning) and sipped a couple of glasses of wine.

Day 4:

After brunch in the room, fortified by a couple of bloody marys from Alain, the L’Esplanade’s excellent long-time bartender, we headed to Orient Beach for some sunning. (If you happen down to the au natural end of the beach, you’ll find that, in general, the sunbathers worry more about grooming than fitness.) With the arrival of a cruise ship’s “beach breakers,” we eventually made our way back to the hotel for a snack and a nap.

I’d asked Alain for his dining recommendation. He pointed me to a French Creole restaurant called Villa Royale and suggested I “ask Rosie for the Alain Special.” Villa Royale’s clientele this night was largely locals. The atmosphere was much more casual than any of the French restaurants. Rosie turned out to be the lovely, loaded-with-personality manager of the place, whose smile brightened the room.

Getting ready to dive into the "Alain Special" at Villa Royale

We started with a plate of conch and blood sausages, which were very flavorful and quite rich. Pam had the shrimp & scallop special – a kabob with simple spices and a creole sauce. My “Alain Special” turned out to be a cassoulet of tuna, salmon, mahi, and vegetables in a Creole cream sauce, which was divine. Both were served with creole black rice and beans. We ate until we were ready to pop, then relaxed as we watched a celebration for a couple of newlyweds before heading home.

Day 5:

The Sweet Partner in Crime with her duck salad
At Hidden Forest Cafe.

Our hiking day at Loterie Farm – a nature preserve between Grand Case and Marigot. From there, you can hike to Pic du Paradis, the highest point on St. Martin. Nice hike, but nothing easy about it. After cooling off a bit at the Tree Lounge, we moved over to the Hidden Forest Café, known to have some of the best lunch fare on the island. They didn’t disappoint. Pam had a duck salad with bacon, beets, and berries. I had a spinach-chicken curry with sweet potato, rice, and mango chutney. Absolutely delicious – a definite top 3 meal.

Day 6:

It took us almost a week to get to the lunch spots that Grand Case is famous for – the lolos. These open-air restaurants in the middle of town crank out stupendous grilled island food. Ribs and chicken are standards, as is fresh fish (which can run out at lunch during high season) and delicious johnnycakes. We went to Sky’s the Limit and had all of the above, plus a number of other sides and a fresh-caught piece of mahi, spiced just right.

That night, after a bit of a comedy of errors trying to find a different restaurant that had closed the year before, we ended up at L’Effet Mer – one of the more famous restaurants on the strip. We wondered if we could get in without reservations—and not only could we, but we were the only ones in the dining room. Our meal was not spectacular (they brought us butter in plastic tubs, for instance). Turned out the place was sold recently. Can’t win ‘em all…

Day 7:

After a stop at the lovely Butterfly Farm, we spent some sun time on Le Galion Beach, the “community pool” of St. Martin. I mean that in the best possible way. Calm waters, well-behaved kids speaking six different languages splashing around, and parents willing to let their kids play together. Good stuff.

Le Galion Beach.

That night, we had our trip’s final dinner at La Villa, a contemporary French restaurant with utterly awesome décor and atmosphere. We had great service from Cedric, and we chowed righteously. Pam went with striped bass in a fennel-herb sauce with mushroom risotto, while I had the “Sea Combo” – lobster, shrimp, scallops, and more of that risotto with two sauces. Everything cooked to perfection.

 

The "Sea Combo" at La Villa

(I won’t recount our experience with American Airlines on the return trip to keep this a happy memoir…)

If we’d had another week – I might be able to give you a definitive ranking of the restaurants. Suffice it to say, it’s difficult to get a bad meal in Grand Case. Even the least impressive meal we had would have probably rated three stars, minimum, stateside.

This vacation checked all our boxes. Quiet happiness away from the resorts and the crowds. Food and wine. Stargazing and downtime. Music and love. 

The Naked Vine Guide to Ordering Wine in a Restaurant

Dinner for One. Wine for Six. Lovely.

You’re out on the town at a nice dinner with your besties. You’ve been to the bar, had a cocktail or two, and the maître’ d has escorted your happy gaggle to the table. Menus are distributed, and your server utters that fateful question: “Who would like the wine list?”

An uncomfortable silence settles over your tableful of playful banter like someone just asked for volunteers at a business meeting. Everyone nervously looks around, hoping someone…anyone will step up to the plate.

You’re a Naked Vine reader, by gum! You’ve accumulated enough wine knowledge to be dangerous! I know you’re good pairing for dinner in the privacy of your own home, but are you ready for the big stage? Are you brave enough to look that server in the eye and say, “Bring that list right here! Allow me!”

Hell yes, you are! And I’ll be right there at your side with these few basic tips to help you win the evening.

First and foremost, Take your Time. Once you’ve got the wine list in hand, this is the perfect opportunity to ask your server to get a round of waters for everyone – or just say that you need a few minutes while you make some decisions. (This little stall has the added benefit of letting people peek at their menus without feeling pressured.)

Once the server departs, Survey the Scene. “Does everyone want to go in on a bottle or two?” Some of your friends might want beer, cocktails, or a specific glass of wine. Get a quick sense of how many people you’re ordering for. A standard 750ml bottle equates to five 5-ounce glasses of wine. I usually assume 2-3 glasses per person during a leisurely meal for an ordering standard. Do appropriate multiplications and divisions to come up with a rough estimate of how many bottles you’ll need. Also, ask what folks are thinking of ordering, foodwise, to get a general idea on the pairing spectrum. For instance, if everyone’s getting fish, you’re probably leaning white. If you can’t determine whether a white or red will be best, order one of each and let people choose. And don’t let the server take the wine list away.

Don’t Get Fancy. Remember, you’re not leading a wine tasting. While you may absolutely love the deep, barnyard funk of a particular French wine region, this isn’t the venue to wow the table with your in-depth knowledge. The pecking order is friends -> food -> wine. Think about middle-of-the-road, crowd-pleasing wines when you’re making your choice, since palates and entrees can be all over the map. Also, good restaurants often offer many of their most food-friendly wines by the glass, so file these away for reference as you’re perusing the list.

Go Deep. There’s a reason that Cabernet Sauvignon from California, French Bordeaux and Burgundy, and Italian reds like Chianti show up so often on wine lists. People are familiar with them – at least by name – so they make for an easy order. Since they’re an easy order, many restaurants tend to increase the markups on these bottles. Every country has lesser-known wine regions and grape varietals, many of which you’ve explored with me here. Instead of Chianti, for instance, drop a Barbera on folks. If you’re thinking French Burgundy, maybe think about a red from Loire or Languedoc instead.

Also, great values can be hidden on wine lists from somewhat obscure countries. Lesser-known varietals and wine regions are often priced to move. We know that South America makes fabulous, relatively inexpensive wine, for instance – and if you’re choosing between a California Cabernet and a Malbec from Argentina at a steakhouse, I can guarantee you the Malbec will give you a better bang for your buck.

Go Cheap. (Or at least don’t be afraid to.) Do you think, outside of a Guy Fieri joint, a chef’s going to put something on a menu that they know tastes terrible? Of course not! In any decent restaurant, you should be able to order the least expensive item on a menu and still have a quality meal. A wine list is nothing more than a menu. A restaurant should vouch for every bottle on their list. Order what you think will be best.

[Also, in my opinion, it's easy for high-end wines to be wasted in a restaurant setting. Many of the more expensive wines – top-end Bordeaux, Italian Barolo, and high-end Napa cabernets, for example – need to be decanted, sometimes for hours, for their flavors to really shine. That doesn’t happen in many restaurant settings, as server will often just go through the wine service and pour. There are some establishments who do a good job presenting these wines -- but you need to do your research...]

Don’t be Afraid to Ask. It’s perfectly OK to ask the server or the sommelier for advice. (After all, that is what they’re there for.) Rather than just asking, “What would you recommend?” give them a little guidance. If you’ve narrowed it down to 2-3 choices, say “I’m thinking about these. Which would you say is drinking best?” If you’re really stumped, maybe go to: “Can you give me a couple of options for a medium-bodied, food-friendly red?” or “What are a couple of mellow, somewhat fruity, dry whites?” They’ll suggest something workable.

Be the Boss. Here come those bottles! Time for the wine service. The server or sommelier will first present you with the bottle to verify they’ve brought the correct selection. They’ll then open the bottle and usually hand you the cork. Look for any signs that the cork might have been damaged. If there are wine stains running down the sides of the cork, or if it’s crumbly or brittle, this can be a warning sign that the bottle is flawed. File this away mentally for the next step. Don’t sniff the cork – I mean, unless you've got a particular fetish for that sort of thing.

Making this face at first sniff? Send it back. Please.

The server will then pour a little wine into your glass. This is a quality test. You want to give the wine a vigorous swirl, sniff, and sip to see if the wine is defective. Does it taste slightly carbonated if it’s a still wine? Does it have an odd odor or flavor? Flawed wine can smell/taste like wet newspaper, damp dog, a moldy basement, strong vinegar, or rotten egg. Trust me, you’ll know it if you encounter it.
 
Get any of these smells, sensations, or flavors? Simply turn to the server and say, “I’m sorry. I think this bottle is off.” Be firm. Don’t be intimidated. Trust your instincts. Use the Force. Whatever you need. They’ll bring you a new one, trust me. It’s your damned bottle. Get a good one.

Chances are, though, the wine will be just fine. If you sniff and everything’s cool, then lean back in your chair with a self-satisfied smile and say, “This will do nicely,” and relax as the server makes the rounds.

Finally, always remember that You Can’t Screw Up. There’s no “universal donor” in the world of wine. You’ll never find a bottle that’s perfect for a group of people with varied palates all ordering different meals. Your goal was to find a “good enough” wine, and you’ve done that! Once everyone has a full glass, raise your glass, give a hearty “Cheers,” smile, and bask in the admiring gazes of your friends.

Wente -- Some Chards for our Chard

I really enjoy Fair Ridge Farms, our outlet for Community Supported Agriculture. If you’re not
familiar with a CSA, it’s usually a farmer or cooperative of local farmers supported through the sale of “shares” of freshly harvested produce.

For us, what it means is that every couple of weeks, a box of in-season goodies shows up at Vine HQ. The Sweet Partner in Crime and I have found that joining the CSA has really improved our eating habits, since we certainly don’t want these fresh-from-the-farm tasties going to waste! We look for recipes specifically to incorporate the items from the share, and those recipes trend healthy.

The Fair Ridge Farms logo. Groovy, no?

For the last little stretch, we’ve been swimming in lettuces. Our last couple of deliveries have contained three heads of delicious red leaf, romaine, and Boston lettuces, as well as some spinach, a few kinds of chard, kale – you get the idea. Plenty of roughage around these parts.

What to do with all these greens? Well, make salads, of course – usually with as many of the other newly-arrived raw materials as possible! The bitterness of the greens, the various flavors of dressing, a myriad of ingredients – flavors are bouncing in all directions.

The flavor of greens, with their associated bitterness, makes it nearly impossible to come up with a perfect wine pairing. Getting a “good enough” pairing is what you’re shooting for with salads. A salad wine pairing should be assertive enough to get its flavor across, but yet not kill the freshness. Acidity helps, but too much and you get lost in the flavor of the dressing most times. Best bet? I find new world Chardonnay to fill the bill.

In a fortunate bit of Wine Fairy karma – just as we were met with our latest onslaught of lettuces, Balzac sent along a trio of this year’s vintages from Wente, which you might remember is the “First Family of Chardonnay.” Stocked with these California whites for our Newport city nights, we rolled out the greenery for dinner:

First up was the Wente 2013 Riva Ranch Chardonnay. The Riva Ranch started me with a gentle nose of apple blossoms, which is probably enhanced a bit by the small amount (3%) of Gewurztraminer blended therein. The first taste is quite fruity --a combination of sweet and tart apples along with a little melon. This is a fairly weighty chardonnay, but it managed not to be cloying in that weight. Big apple and butterscotch flavors on the palate, which heads off into a finish with a lasting bit of creaminess and a growing oakiness. All in all, it’s a fairly noble tasting white, which the Sweet Partner in Crime and I liked quite a bit. We had it alongside a grilled salmon-topped Caesar salad from our romaine. I would be hard pressed to hit a better pairing combination. The oakiness and residual acid cut nicely through the salmon’s oil, and the oakiness went nicely with the grilled flavors. Made for a really nice dinner. Retails for $22.

A couple of nights later, we had the unoaked Wente 2014 “Eric’s Chardonnay” – which is named for Eric “Big Daddy” Wente. In my experience, much unoaked chardonnay runs toward the lighter side, packs lots of acidity, and offers a lot of crisp tartness. Big Daddy’s wine is a bit of a departure. The nose brings up peaches and pears instead. The first taste is very rich, almost glyceriney in texture, with quite a bit of heft. Tropical fruits – papaya and pineapple – are the main flavors. The finish, after a few sips, gains some richness and a little bit of that tropical fruit again at the back end. I think it’s definitely a chardonnay that calls for food. Dinner this time was a citrus-avocado red leaf lettuce salad with a yummy maple syrup vinaigrette, made with some syrup from a CSA winter share. I made a batch of my twist on Burneko’s Frickin’ Crab Cakes to go alongside or, more accurately, atop the greens. The combination of flavors in the salad was otherworldly splendid and the wine did what I wanted it to – be a good team player. The wine’s richness played nicely off the crab, and it had enough oomph not to get buttered over by some of that good fat of the avocado. I liked it, but I thought the price was a little on the high side at $25.

Finally, we tried the Wente 2013 “Morning Fog” Chardonnay – I expected a middle of the road California chardonnay here,as this was the least expensive at $15, and I pleasantly discovered something more interesting. The nose and first sips are Viognier-ish from the touch of Gewurztraminer (2%). The nose is almost perfumey with apple blossoms and the body has that spare-yet-rich palate that I find in many Viognier. Once the wine opens a bit, it turns into a straight-ahead, very decent California chardonnay. There’s a nice little oaky backbone, plenty of apple and butterscotch flavor, and an agreeable, lingering finish. We had this with a salad that had a lot going on. More fresh leaf lettuce, boiled egg, slow cooked salmon with thyme, capers, onion, and a maple syrup vinaigrette. Despite all those different directions, this wine made a solid accompaniment. I wouldn’t say it blew me away, but with that range of flavors, staying in the “pleasant” zone is an accomplishment. Good value here.

Back to the CSA for a moment. If you’re looking for an easy way to improve your diet, see if you’ve got a CSA that delivers in your area. If you’re in the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky area, there are several options – but I like Fair Ridge’s option of doing full and half shares, each delivered either weekly or bi-weekly. Biweekly is a nice way to start if you're a bit unsure of how much you like fresh veggies. Easy not to get swamped from the start that way. Check them out. (And if you do decide to join, please tell ‘em Mike Rosenberg sent you…)

Breathing Life into the Heavy Hitter

Celebrations abound at Vine HQ! Your intrepid reviewer just had a bit of a milestone birthday, coupled with graduating with his doctorate from the University of Kentucky. (Now you get your wine advice from an actual doctor!)

The SPinC and I, post graduation...

The latter celebration, in particular, means that I can finally get back to more oenological-based writing, rather than spending my days looking at “Generational Differences in Transfer Student Capital among Community College Students,” which is the title of the aforementioned dissertation. (They almost didn’t pass me because there’s no colon in the title.)

Given all the reasons for celebration lately, I’ve had some lovely opportunities to wind down with the Sweet Partner in Crime, enjoy some good food, and get my brain back about me. One of those celebrations happened to coincide with a visit from the wine fairy, who left me a bottle of the Colpetrone 2011 Montefalco Rosso.

 

photo: Hungry Hong Kong blog

Does that name “Montefalco” ring a bell? You might recall a couple of articles in  this space about a wine called “Sagrantino di Montefalco.” Montefalco is a town in the Italian region of Umbria, which is in Central Italy just east of Tuscany. Sagrantino di Montefalco is one of the top-end wines of the region – and is a wine that I deemed “The Italian Heavy Hitter” because of its inky blank color, enormous loads of tannin, and tooth-staining richness. It’s also a bit on the expensive side.

Even decanted, Sagrantino can be a challenge to drink – and as it’s often quite expensive, it’s not something I consider snagging at the store for an everyday bottle. However, when the Colpetrone showed up at my door, I sensed an opportunity. As a celebratory meal when I turned in the full draft of my dissertation, the SPinC and I decided to grill some strips, sauté some mushrooms, and have ourselves a little feast. We needed a good, big red, and I figured this would fit the bill. (The suggested recipe for this wine was a pasta in a sauce made from a bunch of herbs, 2 pounds of ground duck and ¼ pound of pancetta. A 25-year old Naked Vine might have gone for the pasta, but my slowing metabolism preached caution…)

I had high hopes for the pairing. This Montefalco Rosso is the “junior version” of the full-blast Sagrantino. It’s actually a Sangiovese-based wine – 70% of the blend. Sagrantino makes up another 15%, with the remainder as Merlot. I knew it was going to be a big wine, so I poured the wine into a decanter a couple of hours before dinner. I hoped it would combine the heft of the Sagrantino with the food-friendliness of the Sangiovese while the merlot rounded off the edges.

I was close. Big, thick layers of plums and raspberries come first, followed by some pepper and vanilla, and then a big tarry wash of mouth-drying tannin. The finish is long and dry, with just a hint of fruit hanging around. While not as massive as a Sagrantino di Montefalco, this is still a big ol’ muscular wine. Even after decanting it for a couple of hours, the SPinC declared, “It’s still too much for me. Maybe in winter.”

I didn’t want our celebratory meal to be interrupted by a tannic overdose, so I broke out one of the few wine-related pieces of merchandise that I’ve been asked to review: the Fete Home Wine Aerator. I’ve mentioned the importance of decanting before, and a wine aerator can speed the process. Decanting allows more oxygen to get into the wine before drinking. Wine sitting in a decanter is more exposed to air, speeding the oxidative process. This process allows the wine to “open” – revealing more of its flavors and softening some of the harsher notes. Harsher notes like – say – a big mouthful of tannin.

Pretty.

Using an aerator forces more air through a wine than does decanting alone, so an aerator can be useful, especially with big, tannin-fueled wines, to bring out more of the fruit without waiting half a day for a wine to decant. I thought this dinner might be an excellent opportunity to test drive the Fete Home.

This is a very attractive aerator. It’s about eight inches long and feels very sturdy. It’s made from clear acrylic with stainless steel accents. It comes with a stand, and it looks quite impressive on a countertop. (They also include a pouch if you want to store it.)

On top of the aerator, there’s a dial with a 0-6 scale. The higher the setting, the more slowly the wine pours through the aerator, and the more air bubbles its way through the wine. The more tannic the wine, the higher the recommended setting. In this case, I did two small pours – once on “2” and once on “5.”

In a nutshell, it works, and it looks good doing it. I thought the wine was much improved post-decanting. The tannins weren’t quite as rough as with decanting for a couple of hours alone. The fruit rose more effectively on the palate and onto the finish, which developed more of a vanilla and butterscotch flavor. Different speeds might well help certain wines, but I didn’t think decanting on “5” was really any different than decanting on “2.” Your mileage may vary.

Bottom lines: I liked the Montefalco Rosso more than the SPinC did. Even after decanting, she thought it was still a bit too heavy for her tastes. I thought it went really nicely with the steak and mushrooms. (Despite being another year older and not quite up for the duck/pancetta combo, I nevertheless was feeling pretty meat-cravingly testosteronic after turning in my dissertation. That may have affected my perception.) If you’re a fan of big, rich, complex reds -- $19-25 isn’t a bad price.

This aerator usually runs about $35, but I’ve seen it on sale at Amazon for about $20. If you decide to go the aerator route, or if you’re looking for a nice gift for a wine lover on your list, you’re spending your money well here.

(Thanks much to Laura at Colangelo for the wine sample and to Jennifer at Fete Home for the aerator.)