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.

Red Roost Tavern -- The Cincinnati Hyatt's new concept

The Cincinnati Hyatt Regency hotel is in the process of a $20 million makeover. Like many of Hyatt’s other properties, the upscale hotel at 5th and Elm is going for sleeker, more modern décor. That momentum includes the former Champs sports bar space, now converted into the Red Roost Tavern, a modern-themed “farm to table” style restaurant. Earlier this week, the Hyatt hosted a “blogger dinner” for several members of the Queen City’s online writing community.

First impressions walking into Red Roost? Gone are the neon signs, bright colors and pub grub from the old Champs. In its place are cleaner lines in greys and earth tones. Some of the accents and tabletops are repurposed from the local area. For instance, the paneling wrapping the entranceway columns are from a nearby old barn. The space is split roughly in half between the bar and restaurant sections. The bar section is still, in their words, “media friendly” with plenty of TVs, but the vibe is considerably more low-key. The dining area features an open kitchen line at all three meals and comfortable seating. The private dining area is still currently without its walls (perhaps an unintentional tribute to Les Nessmann?).

Reclaimed wood tabletop. (Photo courtesy Hyatt Regency Cincinnati)

According to Meghann Naveau, account exec at Fahlgren-Mortine -- the public relations firm handling the opening of the restaurant, “More than two dozen farms, distilleries and purveyors throughout Ohio and Northern Kentucky supply the restaurant with hormone-free meats, organic produce and high-quality beer and spirits.”

The restaurant incorporates some local flair into its offerings. Produce comes from Carriage House Farm in North Bend, OH; cheeses from Kenny’s Farmhouse Cheese in Austin, KY, Boone Creek Creamery in Lexington, KY, Trader’s Point Creamery in Zionsville, Indiana, Swiss Connection Cheese in Clay City, IN, Capriole Cheese in Greenville, IN, Lake Erie Creamery in Cleveland; charcuterie meats from Smoking Goose in Indianapolis; and gelato & ice cream from Madisono’s in Cincinnati. The beverage list gives a nod to local breweries. Beers from Cincinnati’s Mad Tree, Mt. Carmel, Rivertown, and Christian Moerlein breweries, Lexington Brewery (makers of Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale), and Cleveland’s Great Lakes and Fat Head breweries all make the beer list. Not all of the ingredients and produce are sourced locally. (I don’t think we have a local source for halibut and quinoa!)

On the dinner menu, soups and salads are $6-7. Flatbreads, appetizers, and vegetarian entrees range from $5-15. Meat-centric entrees go from a free-range chicken at $22 to the grass-fed ribeye at $38.

(Photo courtesy Hyatt Regency Cincinnati)

The restaurant’s tagline is “Thoughtfully sourced, carefully served,” so I was interested to discover the concoctions they chose for this preview. In what I assume was an attempt to stick with the “local flavor” theme, our six small-plate courses were paired with the local draft beers instead of wines. I’ve got nothing against a beer-pairing dinner. Done properly, well-paired beer can be just as good with food. It does, however, take a certain amount of care – and a fairly extensive beer selection – to get everything right. There are 10 beers on tap (six were the local drafts we had with dinner) and 25 bottled beers. The wine list includes 28 selections available by the glass or bottle, none of which are from local wineries.

Our first course was a crab cake served with a slaw and honey-chili mayo, paired with Rivertown Jenneke Belgian Blonde Ale. The crab cake was quite flavorful and was mostly crab meat, in stark opposition to the bready mess many “crab cakes” become. The blonde ale was a good pairing – since the honey flavors in the blonde ale played off the honey in the mayo. This pairing was, for me, the highlight.

Dining room at Red Roost (Photo courtesy Hyatt Regency Cincinnati)

Next up was a sweet corn soup finished with a smoked tomato jam paired with a Mt. Carmel nut brown ale. The soup was sweet and straightforward. The tomato jam gave the soup some depth. The beer pairing didn’t work as well as I expected. The sweetness of the soup turned what would have been a slightly sweet beer quite bitter.

[Side note: At this point, I asked the sous chef -- who had been coming out to describe each course – how he arrived at the various food and beer pairings. He stated that he hadn’t been involved in the selections and that the managers had made the decisions. I asked one of the managers who was there, and he gave an answer about “the flavor profile meshing with the food” without giving many specifics.]

The third course was a quinoa salad with summer squash, walnuts, and an herb vinaigrette with a Rivertown Helles Lager. The salad was subtly flavored – and the vinaigrette didn’t really do anything to help with the beer’s flavor, which turned very sharp together. Salad courses are always the toughest to pair.

At this point, we got a “palate cleanser” of limóncello made in Columbus. While I like Limóncello as an after dinner drink sometimes, it seemed a bit odd here. Rather than cleansing my palate, it coated it in cream and alcohol. Again, I understand the “local” angle – but forcing an after-dinner drink in the middle of a meal felt a bit odd.

The fourth course was a take on “fish and chips” – with a piece of halibut filet and fried elephant garlic chips, served with a malt vinegar reduction. This was paired with the Mad Tree Psychopathy IPA. Disappointing. My fish was over-seared and extremely dry. The chips were basically burnt. The IPA, solid enough on its own, was done no favors by those flavors.

Fifth was a slow-roasted pork tenderloin with a port cherry reduction paired with a Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale. The cherry reduction connected nicely with what is usually not one of my favorite beers. The pork, on the other hand, was fairly tough and dry. Not so dry as the halibut, but still overdone. The beer at least made the pork palatable. (Also, one of the managers made sure we knew that they’d swapped the beers for courses 4 and 5 right before the meal after “going back and forth on that all day.” The pairing they went does make more sense, but I wish they'd been a little more thoughtful with the pairings instead of just shoehorning the local selections.)

Finally, we had an organic corn ice cream with salted caramel sauce from Madisono’s with a Rivertown blueberry lager. The ice cream was delicious. The blueberry lager was good. Together? It just didn’t click.

I will give high marks to the service. The wait staff was extremely pleasant and efficient, and they provided a good team approach to the meal. The presentation was attractive and the atmosphere was good. I can’t, however, recommend this place for spending your “going out” money – at least not as the menu currently stands. (Since the menu is seasonal, perhaps they’ll change it up soon.) The current concept – from meal selections to décor – felt like an easily duplicated frame with a few accents thrown in to get a “locally sourced” tag -- something that I could see conceivably ending up at other Hyatt locations. I imagine, at this stage, they’re still getting the kinks worked out in the kitchen and making more connections with local vendors. There’s room for really positive evolution in those areas.

Seasons 52 Fresh Grill -- Slick, Tasty, and Lean

Deep in the throes of the ongoing kitchen remodel, I didn’t expect to find myself tucking away deliciously seasoned strip steak and quail, but there I was last Tuesday. I received a fortuitous invite to a “media wine dinner” at Seasons 52, a soon-to-be-opened restaurant on Edwards Road just across the street from Rookwood Commons. Seasons 52 is an upscale casual dining restaurant based around a “fresh grill and wine bar” concept. I was joined by a collection of other friendly media types from the area, including a TV producer, a couple of Enquirer editors, and Nedra – better known as local blogger “Adventure Mom.” 

We had a quick tour of the contemporarily decorated restaurant before the meal began. Seasons 52’s distinguishing architectural feature is the stone split-face mosaic walls which closely resembled one area of our kitchen-to-be. The restaurant had lots of mahogany, warm lighting, and high ceilings throughout. The patio (which will look much better when it doesn’t open onto a construction site) and several private dining rooms available for meetings, receptions, etc.

The open kitchen was interesting to me because of what wasn’t there. There’s no fryer. I learned no butter is used in the preparations. The hook of Seasons 52 is that no item on the menu, including desserts, contains more than 475 calories. The menu changes seasonally and leans heavily on mesquite grilling, brick oven cooking, and caramelizing. I asked about the portion sizes at one point. Most entrees apparently run 6-8 ounces of protein plus a vegetable and a starch. I wondered how an 11 oz. steak could be that calorically miniscule. The answer, apparently, is a particularly lean stock of Piedmontese bovine.

Would you buy a wine pairing from this man?
(Short answer: Yes.)

Our tour ended at the long piano bar where different live musicians play 7 days a week. Our pianist for the evening played an eclectic mix. (I’ll admit I’ve never heard Weezer’s “Sweater Song” done quite that way.) At the bar, we met George Miliotes, our emcee for the evening. The affable Miliotes (one of the world’s 180 Master Sommeliers, apparently) started us with a glass of Chartogne-Taillet Champagne to go alongside samples of a pair of appetizer flatbreads – one an artichoke and goat cheese, the other chipotle shrimp with roasted poblanos and feta. I enjoyed both as Miliotes gave us some background on the restaurant and introed the wine list, which includes 65 wines available by the glass – any of which are also available as a 1 oz. sample for experimentation purposes.

After a few minutes of get-to-know-you and bubbly, we adjourned to our table where we met Clifford Pleau, Season 52’s executive chef. He and Miliotes have worked together for the last 20 years, as some of their banter indicated. We wasted little time getting to the meal itself.

We started with a crab and avocado amuse bouche – which reminded me of a crab quesadilla, minus the tortilla. A Vinho Verde alongside served as a nicely crisp aperitif.

From there came a cedar plank roasted salmon filet with a grilled sea scallop skewered on a stalk of lemongrass. The salmon was fresh, moist, and flavorful. The scallop was divine. The wine pairing was a medium-oak Central Coast California chardonnay, which played off the seafood and the grill char.

Cedar plank salmon.

Next up, the salad course. The salad, comprised of organic field greens, grilled mushrooms, toasted pistachios, and truffle dressing was served (as are most of their salads) in plastic tubes and shaken out on the plates to present more aromatics from the dressing. Truffles. Yum. I wouldn’t have thought Carneros pinot noir with a salad course ordinarily, but with truffles? Why the heck not!

From there, we had goat cheese ravioli, roasted garlic, and shredded basil in an organic tomato broth. My ravioli might have been a bit undercooked, as it had soaked up much of the broth by the time the plate arrived and was still a little bit dry. Still very flavorful. The wine pairing here was a Cabernet Franc from Bordeaux. It was a very solid choice, but I would have leaned towards a light Italian red as is my usual preference with such flavors.

The “main” course was a mixed grill of Piedmontese strip steak and Manchester Farms quail, mashed sweet potatoes, and red wine sauce. For me, this was the highlight of the meal. The strip steak was done a delicious medium rare and had no fat that I could see. The quail took a little surgery to get at the tender, scrumptiously seasoned meat, but it was worth it. We had two wine pairings here – a Cabernet blend from South Africa, which was quite tasty, and a Spanish Garnacha, which was full and almost creamy. The Garnacha was an especially enjoyable pairing.

We finished up with “mini indulgences.” These are small desserts served in square “cordial style” glasses. At the end of a big meal like that, however, I usually don’t want more than a few bites of something sweet. I went with the key lime pie. Other options included carrot cake, pecan pie, rocky road, chocolate peanut butter mousse and various others. The dessert wine, a luscious German Riesling Auslese, was dee-lish.

The "mini-indulgences"

Now, I fully understand our little media gaggle was getting a special preview of this establishment, so I expected everything to be really good. It was. For this type of restaurant, I would heartily endorse it for the flavors alone. However, I had one major unanswered question –cost. The restaurant website (http://www.seasons52.com) lists the complete food and wine menu without prices. I’m normally of the “if there’s no price listed, you don’t want to know” school.  Kelly McMillan, field manager of the Cincinnati location, was happy to provide the local menu.

You know what? It ain’t overly painful. Wines by the glass range from $6.50 to $18. (The most expensive we had was the Champagne, which would have been $14.) The flatbreads were $8-10 for a generous size. Small salads run $6-9, while entrée salads were $12-16. The most expensive item on the menu was a bone-in strip steak at $28. The “mini indulgences” are $2.50 each. Not cheap, but less expensive than I expected.

The Cincinnati location opens today, Monday, February 4. I’d say it’s certainly worth a try if you’re a fan of restaurants like P.F. Chang’s, J.Alexanders, and other upscale casual options.

For a different (and more photographic!) view of the evening, here's Adventure Mom's review.

[Seasons 52 is part of the Darden group of restaurants, which also includes the Capital Grille, Bahama Breeze, LongHorn, the Yard House, Eddie V’s, Olive Garden, and (believe it or not) Red Lobster.]

Cooper’s Hawk Winery and Restaurant – A Model of (and based on) Consistency

I was invited to attend the recent grand opening of a Cooper’s Hawk Restaurant, an “upscale-casual” restaurant boasting a tasting room at each location – all the better to serve their house wines. The tasting room is just the start. The wines apparently have enough of a following that Cooper’s Hawk has a wine club – according to them, the largest of its kind.

Illinois-based Cooper’s Hawk currently has 10 locations – seven in the greater Chicago area, one in Indianapolis, one in Milwaukee, and their newest location in Columbus, Ohio. Locations in Cincinnati, Kansas City, and Tampa are scheduled to open during the next year.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to attend the opening – so I can’t attest to the quality of the food (although the menu looks fairly wide-ranging and interesting). But thanks to Jennifer at Wordsworth Communications, I was able to obtain a couple of Coopers Hawk samples and score an interview with Rob Warren, the winemaker.

Rob, a native of Port Hope, Ontario, got his start working in wineries both north of the border and in northern Virginia. In 2007, he met the CEO of Cooper’s Hawk, Tim McEnerny, at a trade show. “We just got to talking and really hit it off. He said he was looking for a winemaker and I interviewed for the position. Next thing you know, here we are!”

These...and 36 more!

Cooper’s Hawk has a very large catalog of wines. Their basic list of wines, including vinifera, fruit wines, and sweet wines, numbers about 40. Then there are the wines for the wine club. “We make 12 wines just for the club each year.” These wines tend to be lesser known varietals and blends, crafted especially for members who are usually looking for something a little different.

The blends seem to be where Cooper’s Hawk hangs its proverbial hat. “We try not to limit ourselves on the blends. Most wineries are limited to their own vineyards, or even their own region. I like finding combinations across terroir – like blending Washington and California grapes, for instance. We just do whatever we can come up with that we think will be awesome.”

According to Rob, the blends are the most popular wines in the catalog. “Among the reds, we do a blend of pinot noir, malbec, and barbera that people seem to like, as well as our cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, and zinfandel blend. Among the whites, our pinot grigio/riesling blend is a big hit.”

I asked Rob about the challenge of making wines for such a broad audience – a big wine club and a growing restaurant chain featuring his wines. “Our wines are made to be enjoyed right away, so I try to make something you can open, pour, and enjoy. I try to find a basic profile for a wine that I hope people will like. Once we know the profile we’re looking for, we can almost always match them up from year to year. Since we’re not limited by vintage dates or appellations, we have the flexibility to create consistent wines.”

Rob said that his real goal is to make wines that people enjoy enough that they’ll join the club. “Once they know they can get quality wine from us, we want them to join. They get discounts at the restaurant, and they can buy any of the 40 wines on the main list at a discount. We’ve got some other neat promotions for club members, too.”

Cooper’s Hawk sent along a couple of bottles, one white & one red, for me to try. Neither of them were the popular blends Rob mentioned earlier, so I may have to visit one of the restaurants to check them out in the future. My thoughts on the two bottles:

Cooper’s Hawk (NV) Gewurztraminer – Very aromatic. Lots of tropical fruit scents on the nose – especially pineapple and papaya. This wine is definitely modeled after a “new world” Gewurztraminer. Tthe full, thick body has a fruit-cocktailish flavor of pineapple, apple, and that specific flavor of lychee. Quite full bodied, the finish turns slightly bitter at the end after some sweeter papaya flavors. On its own, it was OK. With a spicy Thai-flavored chicken soup, it worked well. The thickness of the body kept the tropical flavors from being overrun by the spices. The wine would be a nice pairing with most foods that register on the Scoville scale.

Cooper’s Hawk (NV) Pinot Noir – I wouldn’t necessarily agree with the “pop and pour” sentiment of Rob’s here. I thought this wine needed some time to open – otherwise, it came across as almost watery. After about 45 minutes of air, the fruit started to open up a bit. Even so, it’s an extremely light pinot. There are cherries and some soft wood on the nose, followed up with a light cherry flavor on the body. That’s most of what I got. The finish was light, a little smoky, and soft. There are some tannins that emerge eventually. It has the basic flavor profile of a pinot, but it’s not complex by any stretch of the imagination.

Pricewise, the wines retail at the restaurant from $15 to 40. The pinot noir I tried retailed for $22 and the Gewurztraminer was $18. I think both are a bit high for what you get, although if I’d bought either of those in a restaurant at those prices, I’d think I was getting a real deal – considering what the markup usually is. The wine club prices are $18.99 for one bottle monthly or $35.99 for two. There’s also a shipping option, where members would receive either 3 or 6 bottles quarterly for $80 or $140 respectively.

For more information, restaurant menus, wine lists, and the like you can check out the Cooper’s Hawk website at http://www.coopershawkwinery.com 

The Naked Vine tries Naked Tchopstix

Some restaurant experiences are wonderful. Some are awful. Some simply need to be documented.

Sushi is one of our indulgences. The Sweet Partner in Crime and I cook a lot, as followers of the Vine know, but sushi is an exception. Finding sashimi-grade fish and other ingredients, the prep, the ritual – it’s just better left to the experts. We were lucky to have one of the Cincinnati area’s best sushi restaurants, Aoi, within a short walk from our front door at Newport on the Levee. Aoi was a modern, classy establishment with excellent service, a quiet atmosphere and some of the freshest, best prepared sushi I’ve had anywhere. We were so disappointed when it closed.

Fast forward a few months. We read that a new Asian restaurant called “Naked Tchopstix” was opening in the old Aoi space. Naked Tchopstix is a small Indianapolis-based “sushi, pan-Asian food, and bar” chain, and the Newport location is their first outside of Indiana. The SPinC and I had a mutual sushi crave, so we decided to take an evening stroll to check it out.

Naked Tchopstix is a big place. They annexed a small art gallery next door and converted the space into additional bar/club space. A sign in front announced the evening’s featured appetizer as Hawaiian pizza. My eyebrow arched. We went inside. The place had been somewhat redone. The Japanese style partitions had been replaced by a more open, traditional dining room, part of which was set up for tatami – which were all in the middle of a room rather in more traditional private nooks. New place, new design – we could go with it.

Aoi set a very high standard, so I tried to keep an open mind. However, after being greeted by a young woman in a Sinful t-shirt whose perfume smelled like overripe apples, I began to worry a bit. She led us to our table, dropped off our menus and a drink list, and told us that our server would be there soon.

The menu is overwhelming. Imagine porting the Cheesecake Factory dining concept to Asian food. The menu was 10-12 pages long. Sushi (nigiri and about three dozen types of rolls), sashimi, Korean dishes, various Chinese stir-fries, noodles of various preparations, almost 30 appetizers (including frites?) and salads, and on and on. At the end, they had a list of “suggestions for the undecided” – which consisted of “rolls without raw fish” and similar things.  

As our eyes began to glaze over, we were approached by our server, who introduced himself, asked if we’d like something to drink “and the specials tonight are $2 Buds and Bud Lights and $3 Kentucky Bourbon Ales.” We asked for a couple of waters and I ordered a bottle of (nicely priced) Albariño. Our server said, “Is that all?” Erm…ok. I said yes and he departed, we assume to figure out what the heck “a bottle of “all beer eenyo” was.

Several minutes passed with no sign of our server. The SPinC suggested that I go check out the fish on the sushi bar. I looked it over – the fish looked good – and the sushi chef, who looked to be a recent college grad, asked if he could help me. I told him I was just checking out the fish. He said, “Yeah. We’ve got some really good stuff here.” I told him I was looking forward to it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just stopped short of calling me “brah.”

I returned to the table. Our drinks hadn’t shown up yet. At this point, a man who had been standing across the room pointedly watching our table, comes sauntering over. He looked like a thin version of Quarles from “Justified.” He asked in a raspy smoker’s voice if we’d been helped. I told him we’d placed our drink orders. He said, “Oh, OK” and walked off without another word. A bit creepy.

Finally, our server returns with a couple of waters. He puts them on the table and says, “And I’ll be right back with your wine.” Whew. At least we got the drink order cleared up. He returned with the bottle in a chiller. He struggled mightily with the screwtop for a minute before opening the bottle, turning to me, and saying – I shit you not – “Say when!” He poured some, I said when, and before I could reach for my glass, he started filling the other.

As I was checking the wine (which was fine), he then started telling a wonderfully ironic story about watching another server who “had never done a wine presentation” trying to open a screwtop bottle with a wine opener. He chuckled to himself about how dumb the guy looked. I tried desperately not to shoot wine from my nose.

He asked if we were ready to order. We decided to stick to our plan – sushi. We ordered the two-person minimum chef’s choice “Slow Boat to Tokyo” option. We said that we were pretty adventurous, so they could be creative. We just didn’t want any tempura. He told us that it would be about 25 minutes or more because they’d have to “work around the tempura.” We asked if it came with soups or salad or anything. He said that it didn’t, but added “That’s a lot of money, so I think I can find you some soup.” He returned a few minutes later with some miso soup which tasted OK.

We finished our soups as we waited for the sushi. After several minutes with our empty bowls in over on the edge of the table, Quarles returned and rasped, “I’ll take these for you.” We shuddered a bit.

The sushi boat eventually landed. When I order “Chef’s Choice,” I’m hoping for a little fun and a little flair from the chef. What arrived was a fairly standard array of nigiri and sashimi (tuna, white tuna, smoked salmon, salmon, yellowtail, snapper, octopus, eel) and two rolls – a “corona roll” and a “volcano roll.” I could have cobbled this array together a la carte more cheaply, I think. I asked the server what we had in front of us and he paused for a moment. He started pointing at the fish. “This is salmon…this is tuna…” and the SPinC stopped him, asking about the rolls. “That’s a corona roll and that’s a volcano roll.” I asked what those were. His face went blank.

He took a deep breath and launched into a story about how there’s a lot of things to learn on the menu. “And when the high rollers come in, they have these special kinds of tuna and shrimp that they only get in four or five times a month for them, and they have a whole other special menu we have to learn. You know, for the high rollers, like city councilmen and stuff.” I asked him again what the rolls were and he said, “Wow, you’re really testing me.” He came back with descriptions of what the rolls were and departed.

So…Sushi time! We dug in. And looked at each other with “hmmmm….” expressions. The sushi wasn’t *bad,* mind you. It looked really good, but with the exception of the yellowtail and white tuna, tasted completely unremarkable. The textures weren’t great, the flavors were OK. It was a step above what’s available in the fridge case at Kroger, but it was a huge step down from what had been such a wonderful dining experience for us for several years. When we’re going to drop sushi-type money on an indulgent meal, we’re hoping to be wowed. My overall thought was exactly what I told the sushi chef when he came over at the end of the meal and asked how everything was, “Eh…it’s alright.”

Naked Tchopstix isn’t gunning for the sushi-loving dining crowd. Their target audience is families, large parties of folks who want a mid-priced dining experience with lots of options, or twentysomething bros and chicks who want to feel adventurous before heading to the clubs.

Maybe I can convince Mayor Peluso or one of the other local “high rollers” to invite us to join them dinner there sometime. Otherwise, we likely won’t be coming back. If you’re a foodie searching for sushi, save your money for cab fare to one of the area’s other options.

Cincinnati’s Hidden Gem – The Summit

(Cross-posted at The Man Who Cooks.)
“I don’t think this is the second floor.”
The Sweet Partner in Crime and I were wandering the halls of a Cincinnati State classroom building, looking for The Summit – the restaurant that’s the centerpiece of the Midwest Culinary Institute at Cincinnati State where we were going to meet our friends Mike and Shelley. Music and the laughter of students having some kind of event on a Saturday night (which was cool to see at a community college) filtered down the hall, but there was no sign of a restaurant.
We discovered that we’d accidentally pulled up a floor short, so we climbed one more flight of stairs and found a small sign pointing us down a hall past a closed-up snack bar area typical of what you’d find in just about any student union on any college campus in the U.S. The hall was lined on either side with darkened (but impressive looking) test kitchens. Around another corner and there we were.
So, what is The Summit? It’s a fine dining restaurant largely run and managed by the culinary arts students. As such, it’s located in the academic building on Cincinnati State’s campus where the students get their training. We arrived and were greeted with a smile by the manager, Donna Schmitt, who poured us our first round of Albariño while our table was prepared.
We were lucky enough to be seated at the “Chef’s Table” beside a large window opening into the kitchen, so we could see this eager bunch of twentysomethings honing their skills. Having spent decades in the world of the academy, I know how important it is for students to get real-world, hands-on experience. Even though I’d heard really good things about the place, I still had it in the back of my head that these were chefs-in-training. I wondered just how good a student-run high-end place could be.
I don’t wonder any more. It’s good. Real damned good.
What the place lacks in décor, it more than makes up for in service and quality. The Summit’s dining room is little more than a large open room with 30-40 tables. There’s not a lot in the way of fancy décor – but we were there to eat after all, not stare at pictures or admire faux paint. Our server (name) informed us that the menu was left intentionally vague so that patrons would ask questions so as to give the waitstaff practice in discussing the ins and outs of each course. (There was only one minor bobble in the service – we had to ask for water.)
We also had a visit from the chef de cuisine, Matt Winterrowd (a former compatriot of both Jean-Robert de Cavel and David Cook of DaVeed’s), at one point. He gave us a unique experience. Have you ever been dreamily devouring a course at a restaurant and asked about the details of the preparation? Most chefs I’ve met are more protective of their recipes than mama wolves are of their pups. When the chef came to the table, we asked him about the preparation of this insanely good morel mushroom appetizer that three of the four of us ordered. Instead of being vague, he basically walked us through the entire progress – starting with the two stocks (mushroom and chicken) that he used as a base for the sauce and moving step-by-step through the prep. (Needless to say, there will be some replication attempts as soon as I find some good ‘shrooms.)
So, what did we have? Three of the four of us had an appetizer of morel mushrooms creamed in an Idiazabal cheese sauce with shallots and fresh oregano. Orgasmic, off the charts good. The SPinC was the outlier with a very solid choice – probably the best soft shell crab I’d tasted outside of Baltimore. It was presented with a salsa of black beans, lime juice, avocado, and chilis.
For entrees, Shelley and the SPinC had sockeye salmon topped with a parsley-based pesto in a roasted tomato sauce with roasted fennel and potato gnocchi. The SPinC greeted her meal with reverent silence for several bites, which is far from the norm for her while diving into good food.
Mike had handmade pappardelle pasta in a cream sauce with prosciutto, parmesan, and baby peas. As simple as the dish was – the freshness of the ingredients made the entrée memorable. Mike said it was “about best tasting pasta” he’d ever had. I hold Mike’s cooking skills in high esteem, so this is serious praise.
As for myself, I tried the “teres major,” which was a cut of beef I’d never heard of, much less tried. It’s sometimes called the “shoulder tenderloin,” and isn’t used often. It’s from the front of the cow rather than the rear. It looks like a very small filet and it’s sliced thin. Served up next to a cauliflower and porcini mushroom mash, grilled asparagus, and an absolutely scrumptious sauce that I embarrassingly cannot remember, I certainly enjoyed myself.
The four of us split a delicious artisanal cheese plate for dessert. There was a Tuscan Pecorino, a “Humboldt Fog” goat cheese, Mahon (another hard cheese) from California, and Maytag Blue – a delicious stinky number from Iowa.
Additionally, the SPinC and I split a “black and blue” – a blackberry/blueberry cobbler with browned butter topping some handmade ice cream. Mike and Shelley had angel food cake stuffed with strawberries and thyme with a buttermilk icing. By this point, we were beyond stuffed, but we were floating on a culinary cloud of goodness. And the cost? For the entire meal plus wine (they’ve got a very solid wine list, too), we got out of there for under $70 a person, including tax and tip.
This was one of the best dining values that I’ve experienced in Cincinnati – but there were less than a dozen tables occupied over the course of the evening that we saw. My guess is that the setting – finding one’s way through a college campus to get to the restaurant – discourages a number of people. It shouldn’t.
If you’re someone who needs five-star décor to go with your food, then the Summit isn’t for you. If you’re someone who appreciates good food and would enjoy a relaxed evening with friends where conversation and food can be the centerpiece, then you really owe it to yourself to give this place a try. Go. Quiz the servers, ask a bunch of questions, and enjoy. I can almost guarantee you a good experience.

Burgundy, Domaine Chanson & The Phoenix

I’m going to relive the Phoenix’s recent wine dinner -- not just so you all get to hear about how perfectly cooked the lamb was, how fresh the vegetables tasted, or what absolutely splendid pairings got rolled out for us during the course of the evening.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to try that many Burgundies at once (there were six -- three red and three white) to get a sense of the variations in flavor and style. The experience was reminiscent of this May at the Vintner Select anniversary celebration when I had the chance to plow through flights of Barolo and Barbaresco. I’ll share my observations, but I’ll back up a bit and give a little background on the region first.

As I’ve mentioned before, understanding French wine can be notoriously tricky. (I’ve barely made a dent in what I feel like I need to know, honestly.) French wines are labeled by region of origin rather than by grape; each region may have a number of subregions, each of which can have its own blend of grapes; names can be very similar; quality can vary wildly by vintage for various reasons; and so on. Burgundy is one of the easiest wine regions in France to understand. Just remember this:

Reds are made from Pinot Noir. Whites are made from Chardonnay.

That’s all you need to know to start.

(Yes, like all rules – there are exceptions. The lovely light reds from the Beaujolais subregion are made from Gamay, and there are a few places that grow a couple of places that grow a couple of other varietals, but 90+% of the time anything with "Bourgogne" on the label is from one of those two grapes.)

The Burgundy region can be roughly divided into three parts. The northern part is known as the Côte d’Or, home of many of the highest quality Burgundies. The Côte d’Or is also subdivided into two regions – Côte de Nuits and Côte de Beaune. The former is known best for reds and the latter for whites, although each region produces both.

The middle third of the region is made up of the Côte Chalonnaise and Maconnais regions. This part produces many of the more inexpensive wines in Burgundy, including many that I’ve written about in other columns. Maconnais, especially, cranks out a huge percentage of the white table wine from Burgundy. The bottom third is the Beaujolais region, which is a whole other animal, making the light reds I referred to above. If you want to know more about those wines, go here.

About 60 miles northwest of the Côte d’Or, is the Chablis region, known (of course) for whites. Chablis, much like Burgundy, has a negative connotation in the minds of many, as these names were bastardized and stolen by California winemakers in the 70's, who cranked out jug after jug of plonk. The chardonnays produced in Chablis, France are...shall we say...a bit tastier.

There’s a classification system for wines in Burgundy, based on the quality of the terroir from which the grapes originate. This differs from the individual chateau classification in Bordeaux, which doesn’t follow regional terroir differences, in general. The classifications run, in descending order: Grand Cru (named by vineyard -- can cost in the thousands per bottle); Premier Cru (sometimes written “1er cru” – and named by vineyard and village); Village (named by…well…village); Subregional (from a slightly larger area – like Macon-Villages) and Regional (simply called “Bourgogne”). Chablis has its own measures of quality, but are still termed Grand Cru, Premier Cru, and Village. There’s also a “Petit Chablis” designation, which roughly relates to subregional.

The wines we had, as you'll see later, were mostly village level, with one regional and one 1er cru thrown in.

To dinner...The Phoenix is a beautifully designed former gentleman's club built in downtown Cincinnati in 1893. (Think scotch & cigars, not pasties & poles.) The Phoenix is now largely a banquet and reception center, but manager of 19 years Kent Vandersall has a fairly steady stream of special events, wine dinners, and the like in the restaurant. If you haven't seen the interior of this place, it's worth the price of admission to one of these events just to have a look. It's quite remarkable, both from an architectural perspective and from the "Wow!" factor. Kent runs a tight operation. The service was exceptional and he made us, as first-time guests, feel quite welcome.

This event featured the wines of Domaine Chanson Pere et Fils, one of the older continually operating producers in Burgundy. They've been making wine in this region for about 250 years. (According to Sophie Baldo, Chanson's export manager, who "emceed" the tasting -- they are one of the five original houses in the region.) They own vineyards across Burgundy, but they've got a fascinating storage system for their wines. The town of Beaune, the heart of the Côte du Beaune, where the winery lives, is a walled city. The walls range from 8-12 feet thick. This allows the storage of the wine within the old walls, and Chanson does exactly that. As a result -- they own one of the world's only wine cellars in which you walk upwards from the entrance. (Seriously, I must see this someday...)

Until recently, their wines have not been widely marketed in the States, but according to Ed Hernandez, their domestic marketing manager (who we had the pleasure of swapping stories with during dinner), this is about to change markedly.

So, aside from the incredible cuisine -- what made this meal stand out so much for me? Contrast. Even though only two grapes were used in all of the wines, the flavors were all over the map. I'll take this course by course to give you an idea (and maybe make you a little jealous):

Reception: Chanson Vire-Clesse 2006 ($18-27/bottle retail) -- Kicked off the evening with...not a bang, exactly, but certainly an appetite-whetting aperitif. Vire-Clesse is a town in the Maconnais, near Pouilly-Fuisse. I loved the nose on this wine. In my experience, chardonnays aren't usually quite this floral, and I thought it smelled of strawberries. The flavor was very crisp and lightly acidic, but with a nice spice and structure. An excellent palate preparation.

First Course: Honey Lime Shrimp, Capellini w/Chanson Chablis 2007 ($20-30)-- A classic example of good Chablis. Plenty of minerality and acidity, floral and citrus scents, and a long, crisp finish that absolutely screams for pairing with something light like shellfish. The shrimp and capellini that we had with it was actually one of our favorite courses. The flavors were very delicate, and they married wonderfully with the wine's citrus.

Second Course: Arctic Char with White Beans, Mushrooms, and Dried Tomatoes w/Chanson Meursault 2006 ($45-60) -- My inexperience with white Burgundy had me unprepared for this wine. This wine had an incredible amount of strength and depth for a white. I was interested to hear from Sophie that Chanson ages their wines in older casks, so as not to overoak and obscure the flavors of the grapes. In this case, what they created was an incredibly complex, melony, slightly smoky wine that was full-bodied without feeling overly heavy. Paired up with a fish that's a cross between trout and salmon and those earthier vegetables, the wine stood up nicely and was able to handle the oil in the fish, which was prepared to perfection. Delightful.

Third Course: Rosemary Dijon Lamb Chops with Swiss Chard w/Chanson Bourgogne Pinot Noir 2006 -- This wine was the first of the reds. This is a regional-level wine, made from select grapes grown all across the Côte d'Or. It was a very "refreshing" red wine. Quite fruit forward, but with some very nice spice on the back end that made it very interesting. On its own, an excellent wine, but with the tiny lamb chops seasoned and roasted to a pinnacle of flavor, it made a wonderful compliment for the fairly delicate but numerous flavors of the lamb. In my opinion, as this is such an incredibly flexible wine, this was probably the best value of the night at $18-22 a bottle.

Fourth Course: Veal Marengo, Creamed Whipped Parsnips w/Chanson Beaune Clos des Mouches 1er Cru 2006 -- The showstopper. I tasted this wine and my eyes literally rolled back in my head. I'd never tasted a pinot noir this good, and I've tasted very few wines of this quality, period. (I can only imagine the state in which a grand cru might have left me. Descriptions might violate some blue laws.) Powerful, yet delicate, this wine wrapped my palate in layer after layer of smoke, spices, cherries, and other flavors that I couldn't even identify. Incredible balance. But tasting notes don't do this wine justice. The world got quiet when I tasted this wine. Alas, this was the one food pairing of the evening that didn't quite work for me. The richness of the veal stew that it was paired with overwhelmed all of the delicate flavor in the wine. I ended up drinking less than half the glass and putting the rest aside for later. The SPinC did not, but managed to sweet talk her way into another glass so she could do a side-by-side with the next course. This wine is only starting to become available in the states, and will set you back around $90. And yes, I bought a bottle to lay up for awhile. Even at this price, it was irresistible. It's apparently fine to age for 20-25 years, so this joins the "target date" wines in our cellar.

Fifth Course: Filet of Beef, Carrots Parisienne, Pinot Noir Demi w/Chanson Gevrey-Chambertin 2005 ($40-60) -- Of the grand cru pinot noir vineyards in the Côte d'Or, 24 of the 25 are in the Côte de Nuits. Tasting this back to back with the Clos des Mouches gave me a wonderful sense of the difference between the wines from the two parts of the Côte d'Or. The Côte de Beaune reds, as I learned, are traditionally much more delicate than the Côte de Nuits. The Gevrey-Chambertin was a lovely illustration of the power of the Côte de Nuits. This was a much more powerful wine. Lots of licorice and vanilla on the flavors, and a much deeper level of fruit, along with a great deal of tannin for a pinot noir. It's understandable why this wine would be set up next to a filet. I think this was the first time I'd had a pinot paired with a steak, and this one certainly had the heft to make a side dish, especially with the fabulous demiglace drizzled across the filet and carrots. While I preferred that pairing, the SPinC actually preferred the Clos des Mouches. Since the filet was roasted instead of grilled, she thought that the meat was delicate and light (or as delicate and light as beef can be) enough to stand up to the filet.

Sixth course: Fruit and Truffles. Exactly what it sounds like. Handmade chocolate yummies and some berries to nosh on while we finished the last of our wonderful wine, chatted a bit more, and eventually made our way out with smiles on our faces. For the record, the Gevrey-Chambertin went much better with the chocolate and dark fruits.

I'd definitely recommend checking out some of the special events at the Phoenix if you're looking for a good way to spend an evening. Many thanks to Ed, Sophie, and Stacey Meyer from Heidelberg Distributing for organizing the meal, to Kent for a wonderfully designed meal to complement these wonderful wines, and to the winemakers at Chanson for a slice of bliss.

Some Hometown Love -- NuVo Restaurant

You may have noticed that the Sweet Partner in Crime and I do a lot of cooking. Comes with the territory with the wine stuff. Friday, though, we decided we needed to head out. We had a nice night at our disposal and we decided to take a stroll.

NuVo "Modern American Cuisine," originally located in Florence, moved to Newport last September to great reviews and some nice buzz. Embarrassingly, we'd never been there, even though it's less than a mile from The Naked Vineyard. We decided to remedy the situation.

NuVo, for those of you who aren't familiar, is in the old Mokka location on York Street between 5th and 6th. The location isn't large -- it probably can seat around 50 people inside. The back patio (where we sat) seats about another 15 in the back. Like many of the other better restaurants in the Cincy metro area, they do a lot of interesting things with locally raised ingredients. While not everything on the menu was truly "locavore" (Understandably...the Ohio's not a good place to harvest scallops) we could tell the chef, Michael Peterson, made an effort to incorporate wherever he could.

We ordered a couple of glasses of Dom du Tariquet Sauvignon Blanc to go with our salads -- which was NuVo's take on a Caesar (the roasted garlic dressing was delicious), topped with some delicious goat cheese. We were lucky/unlucky with this course. We got large pours of the wine since we got the last pour from the last bottle of that wine. They also ran out of the promised pink peppercorn croutons, so they gave us...well...larger portions of everything else in the salads. Not a bad trade.

Between courses, our server brought us a palate cleanser -- a carrot and orange sorbet topped with a dot of balsamic vinegar. This little bite was a combination of strangely complimentary flavors. Sweet and tart -- with the carrot flavor very much up front. I could have imagined these flavors in a salad instead of a sorbet, but cold and creamy certainly worked.

The night was still fairly warm and neither of us were quite feeling up to anything overly heavy. We ordered a couple of glasses of Ugni Blanc (also by Tariquet) for our entrees. The SPinC ordered the seared red snapper with vanilla and orange glazed veggies over some annatto spiced rice. I had the restaurant-made fettuccini with lobster, pancetta and tomatoes. Ordinarily, I've seen pasta dishes like this done in cream sauces -- but this one was in a sweet corn and lemon juice emulsion.

The snapper was meaty, tasted exceptionally fresh and was cooked to perfection. The combination of the annatto flavors with the fish gave us happy flashbacks to our Aruba vacation several years back. The pasta was exceptional. The lobster's creaminess, the firm flavor of the pasta, the pancetta's smoke, and the acid of the tomatoes were rounded off by the sweetness and tang of the corn and lemon juice. Plenty of care went into making the flavors balance in both dishes. Harmonious is the adjective I'd use.

We didn't end up staying for dessert (we had a date with some Dry Creek zin and chocolate on our back patio at home), but the server did bring a final sweet. Homemade dark chocolates (one with a caramel filling) topped with a little sea salt and a "Dr. Pepper reduction." Yum.

NuVo's certainly not an inexpensive meal. The entrees range from $17-28. Our bill, which included a salad, our wine, and two entrees was $86, but for a nice night out -- definitely worth it. The service was laid back and extremely pleasant. We were able to relaxedly dine without feeling rushed. The only drawback was the décor on the patio -- which was, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent. (The SPinC said, "Give me $500 and an afternoon and I could really spruce this up.") That nitpick aside, we'll definitely be back -- hopefully for one of their Wednesday tapas nights, which sound absolutely fabulous.

In praise of Jean-Robert...

A quick post for the Vine's Greater Cincinnati readership.

Over the last couple of weeks, the Sweet Partner in Crime and I have had a couple of especially celebratory eveningsThe good times of my birthday weekend at Natural Bridge were a bit delayed -- since my actual birthday fell a few days earlier. The SPinC took me for my birthday to Bistro JeanRo, one of the outstanding projects of local restaurateur Jean-Robert de Cavel.

The evening at the Bistro was a tremendous success, from the birthday champagne toast at the start of the evening, through an absolutely tremendous duck in blood orange sauce for me and seared trout for the SPinC, finishing with the sumptuous chocolate mousse.

Tonight, we headed to Chalk Food+Wine, a "casual fine dining" establishment in neighboring Covington which, on a drier weather evening would have been walkable. It's just next door to the Greenup Cafe, another of his restaurants that's one of our favorite brunch spots.

We were celebrating the letter received last night informing the SPinC that she'd been promoted to full professor. (I'll be making a celebratory dinner...more on that later...) We'd actually planned to go there in March, but got socked in by a freak snowstorm and had to cancel our reservation. The meal was worth the wait.

A quail egg "breakfasty" appetizer was followed by a Cornish game hen and pan cooked skate. We eschewed dessert, settling for a couple of glasses of wine and some dark chocolate on our front porch as we listened to the rain.

I mention these establishments not just because they produce exceptionally good food, but in the spirit of the Naked Vine -- the selections are extremely reasonable in price. I've seen food of similar quality at triple the price I've seen here. The same goes for the wine list. Both places offer high end wines, but the bulk of both wine lists are very reasonable. While it's good to know that there are top shelf bottles available, the casual vibe of both places is enhanced by the knowledge that you can order a quality bottle of wine for a reasonable price that pairs exceptionally well with the excellent food.

I had the opportunity to chat briefly with Chalk's sommelier, Bryant, this evening. He was extremely knowledgeable and approachable, and he's clearly put some thought into providing good pairings at a number of price points. They're planning to open up a retail wine operation at Chalk, so folks can take home what they get with dinner -- an excellent opportunity.

So, merci, Jean-Robert. This neighbor of yours in Newport certainly appreciates your efforts.