The story of Mas de Daumas Gassac reads like a fairy tale. A newlywed couple, upon learning that the farmland they have purchased happens to have the unique soil structure and microclimate of a grand cru vineyard site, sets out to produce a wine to prove it.  The resulting wines have few, if any, direct comparisons.  The red is primarily Cabernet Sauvignon, but has a total of 25 varieties.  The white is primarily a blend of Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc, Petit Manseng and Viognier, but it contains a total of 24 varieties.  The Rosé Frizant was intially produced to quench the thirst for sparkling wine within the family, but it proved too fun and delicious not to be shared.  It is 90% Cabernet and 10% Petit Manseng.  The vines of Daumas Gassac were selected from old vineyards from some of the top wine estates of the world - they are not the common clones one finds in vineyards and nurseries today.  The estate is comprised of 63 small, organically farmed vineyards surrounded by the wild forests and garrigue of a nature preserve.  It is a winery that all students of wine eventually hear or read about - the Grand Cru of the Languedoc.  They are wines that one must taste.  We are very excited to be offering all three estate wines of Mas de Daumas Gassac by the glass for a complete tasting experience of this iconic estate.

The above text is from Chris Deegan. If you've been in recently, you'll recognize it from the red box that adorns the center page of our wine list, or the accompanying insert from our Spirits menu. Chris is a fantastic writer. After re-reading his introduction to the Gassac feature, we are absolved of feeling the need to justly convey the majestic quality of this estate. He does it for us. In short, if you are at all intrigued after reading this, we strongly encourage you to take some time and download the podcast with Chris, and Daumas Gassac owners, Samuel and Muffi Guibert. If you don't want to listen to a riveting and informative discussion on wine, laden with brilliant stories narrated primarily in an irresistibly charming French accent, then we've got nothing for you. You can however, check out the photos below as a consolation prize.

10,000 Acres of Forest

The most unusual quality of the Gassac estate is that unlike almost every other vineyard from around the world, Gassac is a series of vineyards embedded in densely wooded forest. From the perspective of economics and efficiency, this is hardly the best method for managing a vineyard. Especially when you've been deemed to have some of the best soil in Southern France. But as Samuel tells us, his mother was steadfast in her desire to keep the land undisturbed at all costs, so her grandkids could enjoy it in the same context. More than 40 years since she and her husband purchased the estate, that is exactly what she is getting. 3 times over, in fact.

There are 66 Small Plots of Vines on the Estate

In the wine world, when people talk about blends, for the most part we are talking two to five different grapes. Often times these grapes are sourced from the outside. For a variety of reasons (primarily cash, consumer and climate) wineries are fairly limited in branching out from their core competency. The fact that Mas Daumas Gassac has 66 different varieties growing on their estate is unheard of. It is a testament to their soil and conviction to their vision.

In Hermitage, the name Chave is as important as any other, and is perhaps held in the highest esteem. Since 1481, the family has made wines in the famed Northern Rhone Appellation. Hermitage is the hill on the eastern side of the Rhone River, where inky, ageworthy Syrah has dominated for centuries. Chave owns about half of the vineyards on that hill.

JL, is Jean Louis, a graduate of UC Davis, and the heir of famed Hermitage house. His father, Gerard, is the King of Hermitage. In 1999, they went into business together as négociants. In France, négociant are master blenders and merchants. They purchase grapes or finished wine from other producers, and blend and market the wines under their own label. For producers like Chave, this model has many benefits. Foremost, they already have their own vineyard holdings of high quality, and many of the growers they partner with are old relationships. They can be discerning about the grapes they purchase, and their size and longevity provide them with the knowledge and infrastructure to efficiently manage all facets of production and export. It is a win for them and the growers. Even us, the consumer, typically benefits because this "outsourced" farming lowers the cost of the wine.

Back to Chave. The "Offerus" is from the St. Joseph Appellation. The wine is a blend from several different growers, each of whom vinify in their own cellars before selling to Chave. The wines are aged in used oak barrels for 12-14 months. St. Joseph is the appellation on the west bank of the Rhone River. While it doesn't quite have the same cachet as Hermitage, it does have the name Chave on the bottle, and you realize quickly the important role and pedigree of this producer.

At 5 years old, this wine has grown from infancy and showing signs of a long and beautiful maturation. The nose has a deep core of purple fruit, violets, licorice, and a distinctive olive aroma. The palate reveals a deep spice, dark fruit andtart finish. It's an excellent example of Old World Syrah, from one of the world's best.

For some reason, Oregon Pinot Noir has endured a surprisingly tenuous relationship among buyers in California. To be fair, California wines aren't exactly pervasive in Oregon, but for a region that has staked its reputation on wines that are made in a European fashion--that is to say (typically) low in alcohol and with a sense of place- it is surprising that there isn't more of it around. 
But we've been digging the wines from St. Innocent for some time now. Their Momtazi Vineyard Pinot Noir is among the most popular on our half bottle list. We recently added the "Village Cuvée", an equally attractive wine that has been similarly well received as a by-the-glass offering.

Pinot Noir St. Innocent "Villages Cuvée" Willamette 2010 There is a bit of history embedded in this wine. And it has to do with the root louse, phylloxera. Phylloxera is still found in some older European root stock in the Willamette Valley, and many producers are still ripping out vines and planting anew. That was the catalyst for this cuvée from St. Innocent. This wine is a blend of younger vines from three different sites that will eventually make it into vineyard designate wines.  Though the fruit is pure and varietally correct for Pinot Noir, winemaker Mark Vlossak feels that the younger vines do not produce a "site specific" wine and waits until the vines are at least 5-6 years old before using them for Vineyard designates.

At the core of this blend are older vines from Vitea Springs Vineyard, one of the oldest vineyards in Oregon. The other "villages" are Freedom Hill, Zenith and Momtazi. After fermentation, the wine is aged for 12 months in oak barrels,  20% of which is brand new. Oregon wine aficionados gushed over the long, even ripening of the 2010 vintage, and this wine shows us why. It is focused and precise with fresh, bright red fruit on the nose. Just beneath the initial fruit are seductive spice and floral notes.  Sweet cherry and red berry notes dominate the spicy palate. With a tart, sour cherry finish, this wine gives you everything you want from pinot noir at $12 per glass. Consider your purchase a warranted show of support to our northerly neighbors, and perhaps an important act of regional diplomacy.

Finally! Our first published (but not recorded) podcast of 2012. Appropriately, our first podcast of the year is with Tomatero Farm. Next month (April 17th to be exact), they’ll be selling produce in front of Nopa. The podcast was with co-owner Adriana Silva. Despite the changing faces of farmers, when you close your eyes, Adriana still wouldn’t be the face most of us would conjure. It a nice face. It is the face of a young woman who looks happy. And youthful, but not young.

This map isn't that exciting, but it shows the distance between San Francisco and Watsonville, about 90 miles south

We were eager to talk to Adriana about Tomatero’s upcoming “CSA” box. Except, as we discuss, it’s not actually a CSA box. This came up at work; it was surprising that a significant number among us were unfamiliar with the concept of Community Supported Agriculture. Hopefully we can help answer questions. CSA’s, which became popular in the early 2000’s are an agreement between a farm and consumer. But in CSA’s the customer is also kind of like an investor. Instead of paying on a per/pound basis, you are instead investing in the farm itself. The money from your subscription goes toward the cost of the harvest and if it’s a really good one, you score more produce. If not, then…not. You’re back to shopping (hopefully) at Farmer’s Markets.

But what Tomatero is doing is bringing you the produce from their farm in a box. They’re calling this Harvest to Home, which sounds nice and explains the idea. There will be a pick up point outside of Nopa on Tuesdays, 3-7, beginning April 17th.

The introduction of this program got us curious about their farm. What had they seen in recent years that inspired this new idea in distribution? What trends had they seen among consumers? And what is it like having a big grower like *Driscoll’s as a neighbor? (Side Note: Adriana cites Tomatero’s certification through CCOF and their policies on major buffer zones where non-organic spraying is taking place.

*On their site, Driscoll’s tell us, all of their berries that are organic are Certified by the USDA, regardless of where they are grown. It also tells us (because there is a link for it) that they have conventional farming happening too).

Chris and Adriana at Nopa in 2010, where they were guests at our Complete the Circle Luncheon

Adriana’s story of meeting her husband/partner when she was hardly old enough to drink, then running a farm—it is so improbable, so romantic, it sounds like something we’d expect to read on the back of a wine label.  But they’ve made it work. In just over 8 years, 4 acres has become 100 acres. And the Tomatero strawberries and tomatoes are among our favorites.

We are too happy to share the story of young farmers who took a risk and have carved out a sustainable life for themselves, their employees and the land. Their recent increase in acreage will allow them to rotate crops for the first time. With the new space and direct-to-consumer box, fortunately, Adriana full of energy. We can assure once you meet, you’ll feel good about supporting Tomatero. The vibrancy is contagious and reiterates a new generation in farming. And hopefully a new path.

We are asking a lot of you guys with this. In a way it does feel pretentious to name a cocktail something so difficult to pronounce. And doubly so when those would can manage still have no idea what is being referenced.

But there was no way around it. This is the name of the drink and the name makes sense. So we decided to share our thinking, rather than abandon the name. So here it is.

Post Phylloxera is a very common phrase in the world of wine. It is essentially the wine equivalent of BC and AD. So what is phylloxera? And how do you say it? It's a louse, or pest, that attacks grape vines. Their relentless root-gnawing block nutrients from getting to the vine. That makes it really hard to get healthy grapes. And it's pronounced, fah-lox-era.

Phylloxera is perhaps the most notorious enemy of the wine ever. As it spread through France, in the 1870's and on, reports of  60-90 % of European vineyards were wiped out. But after all of the expaining of the name and history, lest we not forget the to discuss the character of the drink. And you'll find solace in knowing it is easy to understand. If you enjoy an Old Fashioned, imagine the Post-Phylloxera as the French Trinity equivalent. Sugar, Armagnac and Pear Eau-de-vie. A Pear Old Fashioned. It tastes as good as it sounds.

Foremost, a disclaimer: You should listen to this audiocast if one of the following statements pertains to you:

1. You like Little Dragon

2. You've never heard of Little Dragon

3. You've heard of Little Dragon, but think you don't like them

4. You like awesome music

Awesomeness Personified. Click here to listen to the podcast

Wow this one took a long time. I was wildly excited to both conduct and release this podcast, but it was...ambitious. I am not an editor. The podcast evolved primarily through a sputtering series of glitches and my own technical incompetence. But I love it. And that's the main thing that comes through. Two people talking passionately about something they love. Like most of us doing what we like, I am the biggest critic of my work. But I must admit, I think this is cool.

For the uninitiated, Little Dragon is an indie/electronic band from Sweden (though I've been coached to refer to it as Electronic Soul. Not really sure who else is in this genre, but I want more. It is quite fitting for these guys). I've been aware of them for a few years, but this year they released their 3rd studio album, Ritual Union, a brilliant work that demanded a thorough exploration of their entire catalog. This process (along with an epic concert) brought me to an emphatic conclusion - Little Dragon is one of my favorite bands of all-time.

Really do have so much love for these guys

In the midst of this discovery period, I was randomly, perhaps divinely, graced by Genevieve Harder. Genevieve and I live in the same neighborhood. We met one morning at a Mojo coffee shop when I noticed that she was making calls and emails on behalf of the band. I am by no means a shy person, but it takes a very special circumstance for me to insert myself into someone else's morning coffee. But on that morning, that's exactly what happened. It turned out that Genevieve was a manager for the band. We spent the next hour carrying on about our mutual love for them and talking about their recent show at the Mezzanine just a few weeks earlier. Obviously since Genevieve had a personal relationship with them, I couldn't resist engaging her on favorite songs, shows and stories from her time with the group. The conversation lasted almost an hour, but I wanted so much more. I asked Genevieve if we could have a similar conversation in the form of a podcast and she obliged.

Ms. Genevieve

The first three podcasts I'd done were pretty intellectual with a pretty clear link to Nopa. When I decided to start doing Nopa podcasts, this wasn't necessarily what I envisioned, but it's exactly where I wanted to end up. It embodies the music that we listen to, a fortuitous meeting at a neighborhood coffee shop, with one of our regular guests. It is, in a sense, a more authentic depiction of community than I could've conceived.

It is a bit longer than usual, but that's only because there are awesome musical interludes woven throughout. Feel free to download the podcast and listen and re-listen at your leisure. On a run, on a bus, on a plane... All Dragon Everything! I hope you enjoy!

The Muse. What a fantastic name for a cocktail! The Muse is the second of three visits to Cognac from French Trinity. When bartenders take inspiration from a cocktail, its sometimes referred to “a nod” or “a wink” to the forefather. With that, The Muse owes some gesture to Charles H. Baker’s, Remember the Maine.

The Remember the Maine is a drink from The Gentleman’s Companion: An Exotic Drinking Book. Written by Charles Baker in 1939, the book, and the author, are cherished and studied by cocktail academics and aficionados.

Baker was a gifted writer and prolific traveler. He was basically Bourdain before Bourdain. The Gentleman’s Companion was a series of tales and recipes from his global drinking exploits. Below is his account of Remember the Maine.

"A hazy memory of a night in Havana during the unpleasantness of 1933, when each swallow was punctuated with bombs going off on the Prado, or the sound of 3″ shells being fired at the Hotel NACIONAL, then haven for certain anti-revolutionary officers"

The unpleasantness of 1933 refers to a coup of Cuban President Gerardo Mechado. After successfully taking out the President, he eventually rose the ranks and later appointed himself to presidency. The USS Maine sank in the Havana Harbor in 1898 after an explosion. There are contrarian accounts as to whether the boat was bombed or imploded by accident.

The Monarch as a Manhattan replacement is easy to conceptualize. Sub cognac for bourbon (or better still, rye). The vermouth role is played by Bonal Quinquina. Bitters, orange bitters.

Yanni Goes in With Bonal

When guests survey our cocktail list, one of the most common questions is, "What is Quinquina?" Except they pronounce it phonetically, and its actually pronounced "keen-keena".  

Quinquina is a generic term the French use to describe quinine-based bitters or apertifs. Quinine comes from the bark of cinchona trees in the Andes Mountains of Chile and Peru.  

Bonal is made of grape must, bark, gentian (a floral tonic) and the famed herbs of Chartreuse; the blend was introduced in 1865 by a monk named Hippolyte Bonal. It would be unfair to sum up quinquina as, "like vermouth." It is serious and contemplative. Though technically an apertif, Bonal has enough richness -and certainly bitterness- to get a pass for after dinner. Served neat (and a slight chill) or with a twist are both enjoyable methods.

* This post also contains audio podcast. If you would like to listen to the podcast, you can simply click here. Please enjoy!

Though its almost over, October is, and was, Salmon Month. On the 13th of this  month, Nopa participated in an inaugural citywide benefit, “Dine Out for Wild Salmon”. The night was organized by the Salmon Aid Foundation. The deal was, we'd feature wild salmon on our menu for the evening. All of the profits from each salmon dish were donated to the Foundation. I am happy to say that Nopa sold enough Wild California King Salmon that night to contribute $925 to the cause.  

I did a bit of research on the organization and became increasingly impressed by their mission and breadth. This had been solidified earlier in the evening when Marie Logan, Co-President of the Foundation, joined us for our nightly lineup to talk salmon. That talk informed us on the perils facing Wild Salmon in California. 

Her talk was succinct and informative, but I gathered from her demeanor that at her core, Marie was an activist. I really liked her and asked her to do a podcast with us. She obliged and suggested that we invite Kenny Belov, Entrepreneur and California's superhero in the fight for sustainable fishing. He is Co-Founder and partner of Two X Sea, a sustainable fish purveyor. He also (surprisingly) raises trout with an algae/flax rich diet, a feed he developed himself.  He is quite busy and as we’ll hear, is growing increasingly so as his fight and accounts gain momentum.

Kenny Belov

I don’t want to go into too much detail about the Salmon Aid Foundation-- its a pretty focal point in the podcast. But  if you're looking for some context, it is essentially a multi-stakeholder organization of consumer groups, activists, Native Americans and recreational fishing groups bound by a shared mission to defend California’s wild salmon population.

Marie also works in the Fish department of Food & Water Watch, which is a national nonprofit that challenges corporate control of food and water resources. They have a fantastic mission, which reads as follows: 

Mission 

Food & Water Watch works to ensure the food, water and fish we consume is safe, accessible and sustainably produced. So we can all enjoy and trust in what we eat and drink, we help people take charge of where their food comes from, keep clean, affordable, public tap water flowing freely to our homes, protect the environmental quality of oceans, force government to do its job protecting citizens, and educate about the importance of keeping the global commons — our shared resources — under public control.

I decided first to post the podcast in its entirety, then break up the conversation into 3 more digestible sizes for the subsequent days of the week. I can not emphasize enough how much inspiration I find in my work when meeting Maries and Kennys. Kenny Belov is a man singularly focused on providing information and solutions to advance the health of our oceans and population. Every decision that he makes, and each conversation he is in, is rooted in the same place- an impassioned belief that reckless commercial fishing is destroying our oceans.

The aforementioned feed that he has developed for his trout at MacFarland Springs has the potential to completely revolutionize the fishing industry in this country. If for no other reason, I would strongly recommend a listen to the podcast to learn more about this. It is truly astonishing. 

Marie is the same. Her activism is rooted in her time at UC Berkeley where she studied environmental history. She honed in on Latin America where severe examples of corporate/government exploitation of natural resources, led her to a path of fighting back as a matter of social justice. She is organized and academic, but feisty. She is my kind of lady.

At the end of our conversation, I gave an open mic. She takes the opportunity to go in on a topic  in which she is clearly growing more active, which is raising awareness ofthe emerging threat of genetically modified foods, and our rights to know as consumers. Again, we hope that you all will take some time to listen to what she has to say about some of the existing and prospective policies on this front. It feels like this will be the next new battleground for food activists. Some really freaky stuff happening in labs....

Marie Logan

For Nopa, I feel strongly that it is not enough for us to be content simply asserting that we know our food sources. More importantly, we must cultivate a genuine understanding of the food sources for ourselves and our diners. This includes information about the producers, handlers, and the political, environmental and social factors that affect our access to these foods.

Is the restaurant an appropriate place for inciting these conversations? I think yes. If we take on the responsibility of committing to purveyors who are dedicating their lives to affecting change, then we must take that commitment seriously and do our part. Of course many diners come in simply to enjoy a meal and a beverage and sometimes crave nothing more. That is certainly okay. But we also know that there are an increasing number of diners who do want more, and whose minds are fertile and curious, and we want to do our part to provide many ways to nourish the curiosity. If you enjoy this podcast, please share with others or contact the Salmon Aid Foundation, Food & Water Watch or Nopa to find out how you can be involved. We hope you enjoy!

Yesterday, I waxed on about the earthy delights of pu-erh tea. You can read about it here. In this post, I take the easy route, making analogies between wine and pu-erh, and also offer tasting notes.

As we tasted, at some point the dialog predictably shifted to wine--not surprising as pu-erh is undoubtedly the wine of the tea world. It improves with age and most of those we tasted were allowed a few years to age. Discs of 60 year old pu-erh has bee sold for up to $30,000 each. This is perhaps only exceeded in ludicrousness of say, I dunno... a $117,000 bottle of Château d'Yquem. Rich man toys aside, Ned stated simply, " we look for teas with character". It was a simple statement, but exactly the criteria I use to asses the quality of wine. For some reason, this struck me in a profound way.

Interestingly, almost all of the pu-erhs benefited greatly from multiple steeps. It is counterintuitive and remarkable. The more you steep, the more the tightly bound leaves begin to open up and release their savory, earthy layers. The profile evolves with each steeping. This reminds me of how I love drinking Barbaresco. It is best enjoyed after being emptied and swirled into a decanter and served in Burgundy bowl stemware with lots of surface area. This exposure to air coaxes the nebbiolo into a series of aromatic adventures that unfold over the course of a meal. The same is true with each steeping; each time a new story.

Pu-erh Production

Pu-erh tea is made from the strain of Camellia Sinensis called Dayeh, a large-leaf varietal Pu-erh comes from the Yunnan region in Southeastern China, near the Cambodian/Vietnam border. There are two approaches in pu-erh production: raw or ripened. The former, known as "sheng cha" has its color and character induced through sun exposure and subsequent beneficial oxidation. The latter, "shu cha", is fermented pu-erh. As is often the case with fermented things, the so called "ripened" pu-erhs get their complex character through this process.

Green Pu-erh is made with little, if any, oxidation. These looked like miniature bales of straw with pieces of grass strewn intermittently. These teas are made with leaves picked from trees, often times from the mountains, and in some cases more than 200,000 years old. For the really fine ones, just like grapes, the leaves are sorted by hand. The leaves are then dried, traditionally with sunlight, until most of the moisture is gone. They are then sorted again and given a grade (1-10 based on the quality of their leaves. After the second sorting the leaves are steamed and pressed into aforementioned discs or bricks. These can then be cellared to improve with age.

Part of the processing may involve chopping these leaves into proportionate sizes. This is more user friendly in that the flavors are drawn out faster and the small, twig-like cuts of the leaves ensure an even steeping. I made me think of how chopping fresh herbs, or even dried herbs, are more intense than whole bunches.

The shu (ripened or cooked) chas were predictably dark. Of those we tasted my favorites were those that came in those little gift wrapped discs. Though they look like black teas, I think they are technically green teas. Ned used the words black tea for the "shus" made it seem like the words were interchangeable. Below, my tasting notes and impressions from our afternoon of pu-erh.

King of Pu-erh 2010, Organic, Rough Cut Black

This was for real. It was rich and full and one of the ones I thought benefited most from the second steeping. While we were drinking this, I saw Ned shake the tea leaves after the first steep which made me realize that these teas do benefit from a little bit of agitation. It was full and clean with a little earth, but I have the feeling we could've kept steeping and I would've grown more fond.

Black River Mountain (Hei He Shan)

This was our undisputed, consensus favorite. It is a fermented high mountain tea that had more character than anything we'd tasted. It was robust and smelled of wet black soil. It would be a perfect match for dessert and after steeping, turns into a really beautiful little ball of wispy, shimmering obsidian leaves and stems. I absolutely love this and could drink it every day of my life.

Small Leaf Pu-erh, Organic

This has the sweetest nose of the bunch, showing notes of sweet cocoa and again coffee. Unlike the Black River Mountain, this didn't just have the smell of coffee, this actually looked like coffee after brewing. It was exactly like drinking a decaf coffee, which I found fascinating.

Yong De Mao Cha 

This raw pu-erh was one of the ones that were processed and cut into little half inch stems. It was harvested in 2007 and had its fermentation halted by some time in the sun. It had the strongest citrus character and smelled of chalk, smoke and orange peel.

Menghai Classic Ripe Brick

According to Ned, Menghai is a house that is well known for their very high standards of quality. I loved this. It was somewhere close to the strong wet earth of the Black River Mountain, but also had an underlying dark chocolate thing that was really cool. This is one that I would like to revisit after several steeps.

Yesterday was pretty awesome. I popped in to Nopa to upload video from the Flipcam to our hard drive. I was making space for our tasting with Tom Bulleit on Thursday. I was surprised to see Xandre there too since it was his day off. I soon discovered he had an appointment with our tea purveyor to taste tea along with Brooke and Chris.  The discussion of adding (or rather, reviving) pu-erh tea on our list has been ongoing for some time now. I decided to lay off the media for a second and have some pu-erh. 

Pu-erh, pronounced (Poo-Air) is a Chinese tea that develops its unique character through oxidization, maturation and in some cases fermentation. Like obscure wine grapes, heirloom produce, shade-grown coffee, mescal and the like, Pu-erh’s emergence in recent years coincides with the broader trend in American gastronomy of seeking out products of intention and attention.  Increasingly buyers are looking for quality artisanal goods that offer a strong sense of place, and in which production decisions are influenced by holistic considerations on matters of environmental health and cultural/geographic identity. I believe the genesis of this movement can be almost entirely credited to the local food renaissance. Discovering these products like pu-erh and making them accessible to Nopa patrons brings me immense joy. I feel a strong subsequent obligation to use the platform to push the movement forward. 

Silk Roads Teas Owner, Ned Heagerty

Most of our teas from Silk Road overlap the organic/terrior/artisan criteria, but pu-erh is definitely its own thing. Drinking pu-erh is a bit like diving head first into a freezing cold lake. It takes some getting used to, but as you adjust to the temperature, discomfort makes way for exhilaration. Their nature is pungent one. They are robust teas, full-flavored, and often smell and taste of dirt, manure, barnyard or perhaps a zoo. The oddity of beverage dorks is that we are inexplicably turned on by these smells in our drinks.

The best way I can explain it is a connection to the earth. It is one thing to smell black soil when you are potting a plant or walking in wilderness, but it is a completely different trip, and ultimately appreciation, when something smells and tastes of the earth that is merely an expression rather than the physical. Fermented beverages are living beings with microbes, cells, active yeasts, and oxygen all playing a role in the development of this, “earthiness”. Eating dirt is not good, but drinking things that are evocative of dirt is really fascinating. Once you move past the initial funk, these teas are incredibly complex. They offer other less offensive layers of smoke, wood, hay, grass, bamboo, spinach and in some cases even citrus. They are distinctive and pronounced smells of the earth and this is what is meant when people talk favorably of earthiness in food and drink.

Tomorrow in Part 2, we will explore this earthy realm and I will share more on pu-erh production and my tasting notes--including the winner which will soon make a cameo on our dessert list!  

Scheurebe Podcast: Click Here

One of my favorite parts about working at Nopa is the opportunity to work with and learn from immensely intelligent people who are dedicated to their craft. For us, that often means the study of artisan food and beverages. Among the top of the list, I would name Wine Director, Chris Deegan. For those that are familiar with the Nopa format, every quarter or so, our wine list undergoes a metamorphosis, which we simply call a “Feature”. The Feature is exactly as it sounds, an educational profile of a particular producer, region or grape.  

In theory this is a straightforward concept that allows both staff and guests to read a few lines in a red box and learn about some wine. It's cool. But since Chris Deegan is the one behind the feature, it becomes a vibrant and compelling homage to wine that is so well written that it awakens the inner wine geek in us all.  

Last month, Chris had an opportunity to travel to Germany (and Austria) on a trip led by famed importers Michael Skurnik and Therry Theise. We all predicted that our next feature would draw from that trip.  While we all braced for a Riesling or uber-site/soil specific Feature, in true Deegan fashion, he returns with a Feature on a grape that you will probably never see so well represented in sequence on a winelist again—Scheurebe.

Scheurebe, celebrating its 95th anniversary as a grape, is best approached as a relative to Riesling. It was long thought to be a genetic cross of Riesling and Silvaner, though recent DNA testing has shown otherwise. In my opinion, these wines share a quality of winter citrus (blood orange and grapefruit in particular, but well seasoned with interesting spice that as Chris says makes it pleasing to drink and capable of being enjoyed or evoking conversation).

 As a wine enthusiast and as a person who simply enjoys learning from people who are genuinely knowledgeable and passionate about a particular subject, it was a pleasure to have this conversation with Chris. We wanted to share this passion with you via podcast and hope that it was captured in someway. As the caveat says at the beginning, it is not a perfect recording (Deegan speaks into the mic, while I interview from behind it), but we do hope to refine and continue these podcasts to introduce you to the many gifted magicians who work in concert in make Nopa such a special place. If you have 25 minutes to learn about Scheurebe, you wont regret it! Then come in and taste and draw your own conclusions!

Welcome to Part 2 of the 2009 Beaujolais retrospective.  Below is a profile of three of the wines from this vintage that have granted me a new respect for the year, and offered yet another reminder on the importance of bottle maturation. If you need a primer, check out Part 1 here. Enjoy!

2009 Thévenet Grain & Granite Régnié

People who are super into wine read both sides of the label. That's because for non-domestic wines there are essentially two conspirators; an artist (winemaker) and curator (importer). One of the names/logos on the back side of the label that is met with greatest enthusiasm is Kermit Lynch. His name is an especially familiar one in the Bay Area as he took a little wine shop in Berkeley into headquarters for one of the most important import/ distribution houses we've ever seen. His portfolio is predominately family-owned French estates and boutique cellars that make wine with little manipulation and lots of attention. The Grain and Granite from Régnié is a Kermit prototype.

Charly Thévenet is the son of famed Beaujolais producer Jean Paul Thévenet. He is 28 years old and owns about 7 acres of 80-year-old Gamay vines in Régnié, just north of Lyon, and southwest of his hometown of Morgon. The vineyard is planted with only gamay, all of which is farmed biodynamically and finds it way in the Grain & Granit. It's actually quite rare to have a producer focus all of their efforts into a single bottling. I find it to be ambitious and a refreshing evaluation of a winemakers vision. 

This was one of the first wines I tasted from '09 and I actually was really into it. It wasn't explosive, but was really well made and balanced. As a habitual wine personifier, I identify this wine as one that is more pretty than hot-that is to say really attractive but not frivolous. It has a beautiful color, a light sort of purplely obsidian. The nose is honest-blueberries, soft spice, flowers and mineral. This theme pretty much continues on the palate, a lean frame that shows elegant tannin and perfectly countered acid. I really like it a lot, though I have to admit it did go through dull moments in recent months and got me on the whole kick of overrating the vintage. But, that said, it is a poster child for old vines farmed biodynamically. They have soul. They require a careful ear and reward those who lend it. 

2009 Domaine du Vissoux Pierre-Marie Chermette Les Garants Fleurie 

This was the most impressive wine of the bunch. I can say this with conviction, although this was one of the primary offenders of the "merely positive" reaction to 2009. The Cru of Fluerie is not known for being super ageworthy, in fact, the best examples of these wines I've had were in the 3-5 year range. However the Fluerie from Pierre-Marie Chermette is in another sphere of ageworthiness, which I think contributed to us getting off on the wrong foot. I had an expectation of where I thought the wine would be at this stage. I imagined a painting that was almost complete, but instead I was left with only suggestions of a finished piece. It was like a protective veil lifted only enough to work me into frenzy in anticipation of an exhibition. I was taunted by flashes of these hues of silky, dark fruit. It was so vivid, yet definitely not complete. Eventually I decided imposing my own ideas on the wine was more a function of my own flaws than that of the wine. 

 Like Thévenet, Pierre Chermette and his wife Martine are Beaujolais pioneers in their own right. Pierre graduated with an oenology degree from Dijon in 1980. Shortly afterwards, he and Martine, who was a business grad, purchased quartz rich plots in the Crus of Brouilly, Moulin-A-Vent, and Fluerie. They were early adopters of natural winemaking, foregoing the use of sulfites and using indigenous yeast from the grape skins to start fermentation.  They also go without filtering, a decision that affords this particular wine an outstanding coat and texture.  Perhaps most noteworthy in this wine is the single vineyard, Les Garants, which Importer Peter Weygandt calls the  Romanée-Conti of Beaujolais. High praise, but after tasting it, hard to argue against. This wine benefits from a bit of air, which was made apparent after a revisit post dinner service (open 8 hours) exposed new layers of really pretty floral notes. So if you order it when you come in, we'll decant for you!

2009 Piron Lameloise Chenas Quartz 

Given the reaction at this weeks tasting, this wine did the most to undermine my 2009 revival thesis. It's not as if this wine isn't really good, because it is, but the Nopalese reacted much in the same way I did when tasting the 09's for the first time--perfectly satisfied, but left wanting a little more. But I actually like this wine, so we will carry on with the theme here. Inexplicably, it is last wine featured in this piece, though it is definitely the lightest of the three. And the charm of the wine is in that lightness. The clear bright ruby color is irresistible. It is lean and nimble, loaded with minerality (pretty intense suggestive advertising on the bottle and name), raspberries and bright, clean acid that makes it versatile and an easy accompaniment to almost anything on our menu.   

Finally gotta give a shout out to one of my favorite Beaujolais on our list, Domaine Cheysson's, Clos Les Farges  from Chrioubles. (If Fleurie is the prettiest of the Crus to pronounce, Chiroubles definitely is the most fun. Sher-uuub!!) It is so elegant; has a perfect medium frame, refined fruit and very gently spiced. I've probably opened 100 of these half bottles in my time at Nopa, and I am continually impressed with this wine.

Last Friday, mega sommelier/author Raj Parr came in late night for dinner. Since this has been on the brain for me, naturally our conversation shifted in the Cru Beaujolais direction. He ended up drinking a Brouilly from 2009. (Also drank insanely delicious Moreau Chablis from 2008, one of my aforementioned recent favorite vintages from Part 1 of this piece) His overall assessment of the vintage was that it was promiscuous--an easy one to get, but still offering a really high pleasure point. I followed the analogy. But then he drops something that elicited a very wide grin.  "But wait til you taste the 2010's. They are even better!" And so it begins again. This is why I love the sport.  

2009 Beaujolais. People couldn't get enough of it. Jancis Robinson, whose wine opinion I value more than any other on the planet, called 2009 "The Year of Beaujolais". Countless other writers and critics were early adopters compounding the fervor of the vintage.

If the title of this post makes no sense to you, I will quickly provide a diatribe on perceived wine snobbery and the important nature of the year on a bottle. People who are not wine people are always quick to mock when talking about "vintage". They often use the word with a sarcastic tone, in a self-deprecating defense mechanism to compensate for not knowing much about a subject closely identified with refinement and exposure. Please don't be like this! Maybe we as wine professionals should just start calling vintages, "years", or better still, "birthdays" to offer better context. After all, we are very sensitive about our own birthdays and make many strong declarations and develop strong associations with our identities based on it. Anyway, the point is, in wine, it matters too.

Okay. So now that I've just ranted about the importance of vintage, I will subtly undermine what I've just said. To clarify, vintage is immensely important, but it is not the single most important factor in producing fine wine. A popular and justifiable adage in the wine world is "good winemakers make good wines in bad vintages." Indeed farming practices and technical knowledge in the cellar will always separate the elite. Along the same line, when blessed with a great vintage, great winemakers produce wines to be studied for decades. This is why collectors and enthusiasts get so worked up about wine. That is the whole sport really. Identify the years that Mother Nature has blessed (or stressed) a particular region and the people who have dedicated their lives to coaxing that into the bottle. 

Not quite a year ago, our wine director, Chris Deegan organized one of the most straight forward, but awesome categories I've ever seen on a list: The Crus of Beaujolais. Beaujolais is a village in France wedged between Burgundy and Rhone. Here there have been accounts of wine since the Benedictine monks in the 7th Century. They produce a massive amount of wine, most of which is a fruity and homogenous expression of the gamay grape. But there is another category of Beaujolais, Cru Beaujolais, which is really the only Beaujolais that garners the attention of the Jancis Robinson's of the world. It is situated in the Northern part of the region where serious producers plant gamay on granite rich hillsides.  

My early impressions of the vintage were positive. Obviously. But I distinctly recall feeling somehow swindled with all of the hype surrounding the vintage. Other recent vintages with this amount of fanfare came out of the box swinging. 2005 Bordeaux (or Burgundy for that matter) and 2008 Chablis are two of my recent favorites that come to mind. But the 09s from Beaujolais were merely...good. Not really what you want from the region that was awarded an entire year. For the most part, I kept my opinion to myself. I thought maybe my expectations were too high and I was learning to recalibrate so that I could actually begin to enjoy the wines. Even still,  I was timid in recommending these wines, as I couldn't conquer the discrepancy between the acclaimed year and my own enthusiasm (or lack thereof) towards them. 

After months of swimming laps in a pool of pinot noir (Diners always throw me in here, and I often try to hop out--not because I don't like it, but there are so many other wonderful directions for pinot lovers), I decided it was time to go back to the obviously good (but not great) 2009s from Beaujolais. The Cru of Chenas was the first foray back in. I remembered the 2007 from our late autumn feature, and this was clearly spunkier. It was the fruit. It was all bright and clean and distinctive. It hit me. This is what the 2009 was. This is where the excitement was coming from. Ripeness! 

It was the beginning of my rediscovery of the famed vintage. That was 2 months ago and I have been enjoying every drop of these wines in this time. Last week I decided that I would share my road to recovery for our weekly wine class. In part two of this article, I will share a profile and impressions of three of the wines from our tasting.

For self proclaimed activists or at least participants in the local food movement, this was very cool. Xandre was giddy. I was too, actually. It was a weird feeling to be in awe of someone in the same way you'd be in awe of a favorite athlete or musician, only to realize the subject is a soft spoken (though outspoken) academic in their mid fifties. But that's Michael Pollan. No one else has managed to capture so succintly and in such a compelling manner the importance of local agriculture, thoughtful criticism of agribusiness, and practical nutrition to advance the health of human and food system. He's taught us about where our food comes from (Omnivores Dilemma) and how to use our diet to affect political change (In Defense of Food).   

I assume that he never expected his role to shift from author/academic to activist, but like Alice Waters, when smart, influential people take on complex social issues, they are anointed as leaders. And, again, like Alice Waters, he has taken on this role with a great deal of responsibility and care, fully leveraging it to affect positive change, organize leaders and spread awareness. 

He ate rotisserie herbed chicken with eggplant caponata and potatoes, and he seemed really into it. In retrospect, he lives in the Bay Area, so it wasn't totally unfeasible to imagine him having dinner here, but the inordinate level of joy we got from his presence was surprising. As we continue to collectively push ourselves and look for new ways to play a role in sharing his message, it was a gratifying and exciting sign that we are on the right path. 

The importance of olives and the olive tree date back thousands of years. From countless biblical references to ancient Greece, the olive tree has stood as a symbol of joy, abundance and victory; the leafy branches being used as crowns for the victors of games and war. The Roman poet Horace references the importance of olives in his diet at around 30 BC and the Koran regards it as an extremely valuable fruit. 

A few days ago at NOPA, we switched our source of olives to Northern Californian Old Groves, operating under the name Good Faith Farm. Currently we get Kalamata, Lucques and Sevillano olives. I spoke with Todd, the founder, this morning about his process and vision. Incredibly knowledgeable, passionate and dedicated, Todd has been farming organically for most of his life. He's 62 years old, but intensely energetic. His roots are in the 1960s environmental movements, but it is also his own curiosity which propels him into new territory. He believes that food carries consciousness and runs his farm as reinforcement of this belief. Six years ago, Todd and his wife moved from San Diego to Northern California, where he immediately stopped eating olives. The salt bothered him and his wife; they tasted "dead" and he realized that all the olives which claimed to be raw, were usually not. 

Todd began to grow his own olives four years ago, partly so he could eat the olives he wanted to eat, and partly because it needed to be done.  In his first year he claims to have made "every possible mistake," leaving him with no other choice then to realize his vision and make it work. His wife watched him struggle and was surprised to hear him confidently proclaim that he was ready to go after 12 months. He began selling his olives to local health food stores and slowly grew from there. He oversees twenty-one acres of certified organic orchards. He also works with transitional farms, meaning they are not yet certified organic, but taking the necessary steps to become so. This is exciting to me because it doesn't draw the line at certification and instead nurtures a farmer's intentions. Organic certification is a three year process and without support, some farmers can't absorb all the costs and eventually go back to conventional farming. Proximity is also key here. Todd knows the operations of each farmer intimately; he knows the microclimates, the smell in the air, every element that's added to the soil… His criteria for any farm he deals with is rigorous and being close to the farms ensures that he can oversee their procedures at any time. When you call Good Faith, it's usually Todd that answers the phone; a testament to the way he runs his business.

Todd is fiercely particular over what defines an olive as raw. Is it shelf stable? Then isn't raw. If the olives are heated beyond 105 degrees, then precious enzymes and amino acids are killed. It might be shelf stable at this point, but it's also devoid of life. Without lye treatments, flash pasteurization and chemical additives the olives are actively raw - they are the original probiotic, sitting on the center of the table for families for thousands of years. Todd is electrified as he talks about his olives in comparison to anything else you can find in California right now. 

The quality of salt is also paramount. It is commonplace to make use of the cheapest salt possible - solar salts, which are kiln dried at temperatures exceeding 400 degrees, drastically changing the natural state and killing all trace minerals. Todd currently uses Real Salt, which is taken from a huge rock salt deposit near Redmond, Utah.  The salt from here is pure, with no chemical additives (which most commonly are Silico Aluminate, Potassium Iodide, Tri-calcium phosphate, magnesium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate). Todd insists that this salt is softer on the olives and compliments the other elements of the process. We're really excited to be working with Todd and Good Faith Farms.

Keep an eye out for the olives on our menu - they're always the first item on the left side and today you'll also find them in our tomato salad with garlic croutons, balsamic and crescenza. 

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of interviewing Brian Barneclo.  I've wanted this interview for sometime now as I've been a fan of his long before we ever met. Like many of you, my first introduction to his work was the vibrant mural he did for Nopa. And since half of my waking hours are in the presence of his work, this affinity is a good thing. It is such an essential part of the feeling of the restaurant, that an interview with Brian felt important to capture. 

The coolest thing about this podcast is undoubtedly the timing. Though I am relatively new to San Francisco, I can sense that the demand for Brian's work, and his profile as an artist has increased in recent years. In this interview, Brian was just one week removed from his most ambitious artistic endeavor to date, which culminated in the largest mural in San Francisco.

Brian's story of finding inspiration in San Francisco after migrating from a mundane life in suburban Indianapolis is a familiar tale. San Francisco has brought it out of so many. You can tell the light bulbs have always been there, but it took the city to turn them on. And they are way on. His aura is so unmistakably artistic, he would never need an introduction as such--you can just tell. He is self-aware, honest and a generally cool dude. His tone in the interview is surprisingly optimistic and at times straight up motivational. Not neccesarily what I expected from the hip-hop/skateboarding muralist ilk, but it is completly authentic and endearding. It feels as if he is speaking directly to artists as he impassionately speaks about challenging yourself and pursuing greatness. 

One of my favorite moments of the podcast is when he stresses the importance of always remaining an emerging artist. "As you become an established artist, it becomes dangerous." From the carefree freestyle mural at Nopa, to the largest mural in San Francisco, it has been a good run for Brian. Catching him riding the wave of such a triumphant project was gratifying. Given his sneaky ambition and evolving catalog, my mind immediately travels 5 years down the road, wondering what projects he will be tackling then, and where this one fits in. We are excited to watch it unfold. We hope you enjoy the 2 part interview with Brian Barneclo. 

PART 1: Listen Here

PART 2: Listen Here

55-65 Million years. That’s an estimate on the age of vitis vinifera, the grape vine that produces wine. My friend Greg Mu once told me that all plants aspire to be grape vines. It is not an intuitive thought, but the more I considered it, I think he was right.

They are a resourceful, beautiful and resilient force of nature. Their roots grasp several feet in the soil through ancient mineral in a  decisive pursuit of water. They shed fruit and leaves in the winter,  obediently conforming to the rigor of the season.They return with renewed grace and begin the exercise again the following year. Vines play nice when cultivated by man yet when left alone, explore terrain with exuberance and without limitation. I am obsessed!

Moving to Northern California has restored my awe of the mighty vine. Several trips to vineyards this summer and my new home have sent me on a quest for the origins. Not just with grapes, but in all things ag. Lately I am compelled to reach back. Train my thinking in the old ways and looking for ancient wisdom.

Reading more about the history of wine is helping me understandnd the modern wine trade. The story lines are in many ways predictable (religion, persecution, commerce, greed, karma—ie, phylloxera, etc), but no less exciting. Here’s the beginning of a few long-form posts on this history….

Nearly 7,000 years ago there were vines planted in Mesopotamia. Knowledge of viticulture was first expanded under the Pharaohs in Egypt. They got down on wine for celebrations, religion and pleasure. Kind of amazing to think that this is still pretty much true today.

Then, Greece happened. They planted tons of vineyards in the latter half other 2nd Millennium, BC. Separate accounts suggest the passage of vineyard knowledge was from Eurasia, though it seems likely that the Greeks went straight to the Egyptians for, ah-hem, the dirt on vines. Especially since there was soon after an economic relationship between the two countries.

And these people were drinking the juice! Wine cults were formed. Dionysus was the Greek God of wine, madness and ecstasy. My kinda God. The Romans adopted Dionysus as Bacchus, with predictably similar values. Bacchus was said to absolve man of his mundane daily ritual and perform miracles like making wine, milk and honey erupt from the ground.

Understandably, the Greeks tried to follow suit in performing such miracles and spread viticulture to their colonies in Southern Italy and France. Southern Italy become known as “Wine Land”, or under the subsequent Roman rule, “Enotria”.

The Roman Emperor Charlemagne (768-814) really began to push viticulture into a more organized commercial arena.  The irony in his “commercialization” was that the primary growers/benefactors become the Church. Beginning with the  Cistercians in the12th Century, Monasteries began taking care of vineyards in places like Burgundy and Rhine, and in fact, many like regions throughout Europe that remain  pillars of the wine industry even today. By the end of the 17th Century there are 750,000 acres in Germany dedicated to viticulture—over 3 times more than what is planted today. The social, political and economic influence of the church, strengthens ongoing and inextricable link to religion and wine.

This year, Chez Panisse turns 40. It is an unbelievable milestone for any business, but especially a restaurant, whose lifespan should be judged in dog years. Chez Panisse is embracing their long strange trip by hosting a series of celebrations. Naturally, these events are to benefit the Edible Schoolyard, which celebrates its own 15-year milestone this year. There have been scores of glowing articles written about Chez Panisse in their 40 years, but this anniversary is just too important to overlook without sharing some thoughts.

When Alice Waters opened Chez Panisse, 40 years ago, presumably no one could've predicted her trajectory of chef/restaurateur to chef/activist. To my personal dismay and frustration, some (especially younger) have suggested that their recent relinquishing of the Michelin star as evidence of their waning popularity or innovation, but why? Who cares? Perhaps Alice Waters cares, but then again, I hope not. 4 decades of praise can grow tiresome for the rest of us, but the pendulum should not swing so far in the other direction in an eager effort to prove a narrowing or surpassed achievement gap for the rest of the Bay Area restaurants. Obviously this happened long ago. But food lovers and activists should celebrate the immense impact of this restaurant.

As Ms. Waters became the preeminent voice in the local food movement, her restaurant is deserving of even more vigorous praise when we see her flanked by the First Lady, and unquestionably resounding influence on Michelle Obama's proactive crusade to fight childhood obesity and promote local agriculture. This is in no small part because of Alice Waters's continuously expansive voice emanating on these important topics.

It also can't be understated how important the Chez Panisse kitchen has been in galvanizing the now commonplace shared ethos of agrarian locality. Beyond the politics of the restaurant, the gastronomic footprint is enormous. It's not simply that so much talent came through the door over the years, it's that so many left as enduring voices and stages for generations of chefs past and present. It is no small coincidence that a favorite pastime among restaurant folks throughout the country is to play our version of 6 Degrees of Chez Panisse. I know we all kinda know the offspring, but when you see it in print, it is astonishing:

• Acme Bread Company- a pioneer of the artisan bread movement and the restaurant's bread supplier, whose founder was the restaurant's first in-house baker from 1979-1983
• Diane Dexter- founder of Artisan baker Metropolitan Bread Company, was Pastry Chef at Chez Panisse.
• Jeremiah Tower- Opened the landmark Stars and is along with Waters and Wolfgang Puck credited with inventing California Cuisine. To take it even deeper, Stars was a stage for Chefs Mario Batali, Loretta Keller, and Emily Luchetti to name a few.
• Mark Miller, chef after Jeremiah Tower, left for Berkeley's Santa Fe Bar and Grill, then later opened the Coyote Cafe in Santa Fe, New Mexico as the first of a string of Southwestern-themed restaurants throughout the United States, including a Coyote Cafe in Las Vegas, Nevada and Red Sage in Washington, DC.
• Paul Bertolli- Chef from 1982–1992, was executive chef of Oliveto in Oakland, California from 1993 until 2005 before forming Fra' Mani, a maker of Salumi for wholesale and retail sales.
• Richard Mazzera, Dennis Lapuyade, and Stephen Singer, who in 1998 founded César, a popular tapas restaurant next door
• Judy Rodgers and Gilbert Pilgram- the two chef-owners of Zuni Cafe
• Deborah Madison- worked with Judy Rodgers at lunchtime, later opened Greens Restaurant and became an acclaimed cookbook author
• Lindsey Remolif Shere pastry chef from the restaurant's founding until her retirement in 1997, along with daughter Thérèse, and friend Kathleen Stewart (also of Chez Panisse), opened Downtown Bakery and Creamery in Healdsburg, California in 1987.
• Peggy Smith ran the cafe at Chez Panisse from 1980 to 1997, before leaving to form Cowgirl Creamery, maker of cheeses including Red Hawk, as well as a cheese retailer in the Bay Area and Washington, DC
• Jonathan Waxman- after getting his start at Chez Panisse, opened Michael's in Santa Monica, California, Jams, Buds, Hulot's, Washington Park, and Barbuto in New York City (where he partnered with and mentored future Food Network star Bobby Flay), Jams in London, England, and Table 29 in Napa, California.
• Mary Canales-former pastry chef, owns and operates Ici, a gourmet ice creamery in Berkeley, CA.
• Suzanne Goin- owner of AOC, Lucques and The Hungry Cat in Los Angeles.
• David Lebovitz- author of several cookbooks and of a popular food blog, worked in pastry at Chez Panisse
• Dan Barber- owner of the Blue Hill restaurants in New York, worked at Chez Panisse. He also received an appointment from President Obama to be on his council for Physical Fitness, Sports and Nutrition.

Beyond the high profile alumni of the Berkeley institution, there are countless other anonymous dedicated cooks and servers who continue to define the way our nation eats.

This April, Nopa turned 5 years old and celebrated with an afternoon outing in the park. The most striking thing to me as I reflect on that day with my co-workers from Nopa and Nopalito, is the collective, “us”. People who have worked in or around restaurants are acutely aware of how many “random” people it takes for a restaurant to push forward. There is an inevitable ebb and flow of personnel that makes a continuing legacy of excellence a remarkable and exhaustive feat.

From hardened kitchen generals who have worked the lines and passes for years, or innately talented career crossing plug-ins who anchor these lines and passes, they are all important. And it takes constant nurturing, oversight and luck for it to all work. I wonder what a 40-year celebration for Nopa would look like? How many things would have to go right over the next 3 and a half decades to even make that a possibility? And who among us will be on our list for having created their own legacies and new opportunities for future generations of artisans, cooks and service professionals? This has already begun in fact.

Though I am a new resident of California and have never met Alice Waters, I have taken on an unexpected campaign of sorts to mobilize (my peers especially) going in for dinner. I think I know why. We are undoubtedly in the midst of a food revolution. In our generation, we have seen a wider field of technically trained cooks, more cooking schools (though this is a pandora's box for another article), more food media, more access to information, more product knowledge, more specialized skills and interests within the business, a more knowledgeable and willing dining community, more heirloom varietals, and the continuing emergence of more viable and conscious local food systems with rapidly growing groups of activists and organizations eager to aid in their advancement.

But we have to also consider that Alice Waters too was in the midst of a food revolution in 1971. It just so happens that she helped create the revolution, as an extension of a broader, real revolution that was happening in American society during the same time. It is hard to imagine she was just 27 years old -the same age as I- when she opened a humble kitchen in North Berkeley.

It is fitting that as the official 40-year anniversary date of August 27th draws nearer, one of the largest celebrations will be an edible installation at the Berkeley Art Museum. And for those that do decide to go in, I urge that you do so in the same way that you would enter a museum, with complete openness and wonderment. History has shown that too often we do not honor great artists or revolutionaries until it is in memoriam. Birthdays can be unkind reminders of our own fragility. Fortunately, this milestone offers a reminder and opportunity to celebrate this enduring and amazing nightly exhibition. And when I make my next trip, I will do so in awe and gratitude.

Stephen Satterfield

Manager @Nopasf

*If you want to check out details on the upcoming celebrations/benefits, you can do so here

One of the great things about the wine world, or the world surrounding any artistic endeavor, is the countless talented individuals toiling away at a personal vision out of sight of the general public. Because the production levels are usually miniscule for such people, it is possible to overlook their work, even if one happens to be studying the very thing they are creating. I experienced this sensation recently during a visit to the Salinia/NPA winery.

We took some of our staff up to visit Kevin Kelley and his assistant Hardy Wallace at their winery in Santa Rosa. Kevin makes many different wines. The two projects I know best are his Natural Process Alliance wines (the impetus for this trip) and the Lioco wines that he makes for Matt Licklider and Kevin O'Connor. Both of these labels are exciting, but on this visit I was moved by a different project. We tasted through three vintages of each of the three wines that Kevin makes for his Salinia label. I now believe these to be the most serious wines made under his roof.

Tasting multiple vintages was educational. It showed me that these are wines made to improve with age. The older vintages were beginning to gain the complexity that only time can lend to a wine. While there are plenty of young wines that are excellent and delightful, the truly great wines have the ability to age in bottle. And the Salinia wines are shooting for greatness.

Another attribute of great wine is that they are site specific - as in only possible from sites meeting very specific requirements. The vineyards for the Salinia wines are cool climate, located on the second ridge in from the cold Pacific. The syrah especially is grown on the razor's edge of possibility for the variety. Kevin said of the last six years he has only decided to pick once. Every other year he was forced to pick because it was so late in the year that all of the leaves had fallen off the vines and winter storms were rolling in. In 2010 the fruit was still not ripe when nature decided the growing season was over - so no syrah in 2010.

Both the Chardonnay and the Syrah come from the Heintz Ranch between Occidental and Graton. The Chardonnay was planted here back in 1982. The vines have 30 years on them now and are well known to produce some of the best fruit in California. The Syrah was planted in 2002. It is generally not a good idea to plant Chardonnay and Syrah in the same spot and Kevin admits to having doubts about the Syrah working out well. The very first vintage resolutely changed his mind.

The Pinot Noir comes from a tiny, beautiful vineyard just down the road from Heintz Ranch. There is a small white gate and an artistically broken down mailbox with the name W.E. Bottoms on it. The vines are planted super tightly (4 X 4 spacing), almost twice as dense as at the Heintz Ranch. The vineyard is completely surrounded by huge redwoods that seem to cradle it in their towering branches. It is a stunning place.

Kevin is known for questioning the wine wisdom of the day. I wrote in an earlier post about his Natural Process Alliance wines - ‘bottled' in reusable stainless steel bottles, made using as little sulfur as possible and with varying amounts of skin contact for the white wines. These three decisions are answers A, B, and C on a multiple-choice question at UC Davis about what not to do in the winemaking process. The correct answer to the question is, of course, D. All of the above. Yet the wines are compelling and correct and delicious. And equally important, the endeavor is a success.

He is no less adventurous with his Salinia wines. The farming at both of his fruit sources is organic. This is a gamble many are choosing to make now but a gamble nonetheless. It takes more work and requires more attention to detail, but it is hard to find a great winemaker or vineyard manager these days who will say spraying chemicals on a vineyard is a good thing. Necessary at times perhaps, preferred to using extra gallons of diesel in a tractor maybe, but if one can farm organically, one should. This is accepted.

Kevin shares his fruit sources with other winemakers. Save for one, Ted Lemon from Littorai, Kevin has his fruit safely in the winery a week or two before the others pick up the phone to call a picking crew. In many countries it is very risky to let your fruit hang out in the vineyard at harvest time. It can be in California too, but our weather generally allows you to get your fruit as ripe as you want. I feel like the term ‘phenolic ripeness' was invented to have an excuse to let fruit hang until it begins to raisin, because, you know, the flavors just aren't there yet. As fruit hangs out there and the sugars build to grape preserve levels, many winemakers see the points awarded their wines from major publications rising with those sugars. These are not mistaken visions, and in this economic environment and cutthroat game, who can blame them? Here in California, where the highest grossing wineries declare adamantly that there is ‘no hint of green!' in their wines, picking early is the real gamble.

In the winery, Kevin allows his wines to begin fermentation as they see fit. The safest way, the only way according to some, is to dose the freshly picked fruit with sulfur to kill off any harmful bacteria and some of the yeast and then add a hand picked yeast strain in high enough populations to take over fermentation. There are many types of yeast on the grapes when they come in from the field. Different types of yeast can give different types of flavors as they begin the process of converting sugar to alcohol, heat, and CO2. The theory is if you let the entire population do whatever it wants, you won't be able to control the flavors in the wine. If you add sulfur and then a selected strain with a specific flavor or conversion rate (sugar to alcohol rate), you have more control and get a more consistent product. The other boogeyman that winemakers speak of is a stuck fermentation, where the wine is not dry and the yeast stop working. This is bad. Commercial yeast strains are selected for their propensity to finish the job once they start. But Kevin believes allowing the entire population to get in the game from the beginning creates complexity. Yes, they all add a little something to the wine, but the more diversity of flavors the better he thinks. He has both knowledge and experience on his side here. He did lab work at Davis on native yeast populations and native ferments, photographically documenting things on a microscopic level. And working at a custom crush facility, he says he saw more stuck ferments with commercial yeast than with native yeast.

Taking risks, questioning accepted knowledge, experimenting: these are not done for thrill's sake. They are done scientifically for the sake of making great wine. The usage of whole clusters is a good example. With his Pinot Noir and Syrah, he made his first vintage with completely de-stemmed fruit, no whole clusters. He wanted to get a sense of the fruit on its own. In the next vintage, both of the finished wines had 30% whole cluster. The whole cluster portions were made separate from the de-stemmed portions, so he was able to taste 100% whole cluster versions in the second year. The next year his Syrah was 100% whole cluster, the Pinot he upped to 50%. In the case of the Pinot, he found himself tasting the whole cluster barrels and preferring them to the blend he ended up making. The next year, and now, both are 100% whole cluster. Accepted theory on using whole cluster is to use them only when the stems are lignified, or when they have turned brown and lost the greenness of color and flavor. I asked him what the stems were like for these two wines. He answered, "Neon green". I was getting used to answers like this. He continued, ‘Yeah, I know, they are supposed to be brown. But they don't get brown here, so...' So he used them anyway, experimented, tasted the results, and found his own way.

This sense of experimenting, of discovery, is refreshing. As we taste through the line up of wines with Kevin, I can see he is examining the wines just like we are. He is tasting them critically, trying to understand them so as to be able to guide their brothers and sisters with a more skilled hand and a deeper knowledge. He will freely admit he is learning as he goes. (It is surprising that so many people in so many fields try to pretend they have nothing left to learn - don't we always have something left to learn?) I question him about everything and I can tell when I ask questions he has already asked of himself. If he has come to a conclusion, the answers come out easy and free, unburdened by ego, if he has not, the process is laid bare and the lack of conclusion explained without remorse. If I happen to stumble upon a question he has not asked himself, the result is genuine curiosity, even gratitude. I love that.

We received only a case of each of these wines. They will not last long. Kevin has a small library working and in it are a few more cases of each of these - but that's it. I know it's just a bottle of wine, but there is something fascinating about holding a bottle of wine that is about to be extinct. This living, evolving thing - this snapshot of a moment in time written not in ink or pixels of color but rather in flavor and texture will cease to exist at some near point in the future. It is exciting and sad all at once and buried in there somewhere is a grand life lesson.

I hope these wines speak to you the way they did me, and that Kevin continues his exploration of the ways of the winemaker.