A rare opportunity is taking us back to the town of Unterloiben in the Wachau region of Austria for this next feature.  Back to nearly the exact same address, actually.  Alzinger was the focus of our last Austrian feature.  In the same town, directly across the street in fact, is the venerable winery of Emmerich Knoll.  (The ‘K’ is not silent.)  This must be one of the most talented corners in the entire winemaking world.

Due to some behind the scenes movement, a very special list of wines recently became available.  On this list were several vintages of Knoll Gruner Veltliner and Riesling from various different vineyards.  I can’t think of another time when we have been able to buy a 4-year, sequential vertical of a single wine of this caliber. This generally takes 4 years of buying and cellaring to pull off.

Here we have the 2007, 2008, 2009 and 2010 Gruner Veltliners from the Kreutles Vineyard.  This vineyard sits at the bottom of the slope that rises behind the town of Unterloiben, just beneath the Loibenberg Vineyard.  (You may remember the Loibenberg Vineyard from the Alzinger feature.)  The Kreutles vineyard is in the area where the slope starts to level out.  It is still hillside, but it is much less steep than the Loibenberg and it has deeper soils.  Looking at the two sites it is easy to see why the soils are deeper.  One can almost see the topsoil sliding off of the incredibly steep slopes of the Loibenberg and accumulating in the Kreutles.

The grape here is Gruner Veltliner and the wines are all Smaragd level.  Smaragd is a designation that indicates the level of ripeness (or more accurately the amount of sugar in the grapes at harvest) and is generally meant to indicate quality as well.  Smaragd is the highest level – meaning the ripest wines.  They are considered to be the premier wines of the region.  The association of ripeness with quality is one I generally have issues with; and indeed many producers make Smaragd wines that I find over-ripe, blurry and often times sweet.  The wines listed here are ripe, no doubt, but they have precision and focus and they are completely dry.

Gruner Veltliner is one of those grapes that is hard to mistake.  I imagine that many Court of Master Sommelier candidates have been delighted to detect the textbook white pepper, celery, star fruit or grapefruit notes wafting from one of their blind tasting glasses.  I am always enthralled by the intriguing blend of fruit and vegetable aromas that I get from Gruner Veltliner.  It is the Platypus of phenolics in the wine grape world.  Celery salt and ripe stone fruit?  Who would have thought of that combo?

Although I love the producer, vineyard and grape variety here, the real treat is the array of vintages.  This type of arrangement is called a Vertical tasting.  The wines are all the same except for the vintage.  Another type of tasting is a horizontal tasting in which the vintage is the same but the producer of each wine is different.  These types of tastings are like mini Rosetta Stone opportunities.  They allow one to see the magic and mystery of wine more clearly.  Nothing is every truly crystal clear in this cloudy realm of wine, terroir, sense of place and personal impression, but these tastings give us some useful landmarks.  They lay a grid over our random points of impression and allow us to make references to other impressions and from these references infer something meaningful about a site, grape or winemaker.  It is hard to discern from one wine where certain attributes of the wine are coming from.  Is it the style of the winemaker or something inherent about the grape or is it something unique to the specific site?  One wine does not give us enough reference points to truly deduce these things.  But, if we taste through 4 wines from the exact same vineyard produced in the exact same way by the same winemaker, we can start to figure some things out.  There will always be mystery, for it is inherent in wine, but vertical and horizontal tastings shed some very interesting light into the vinous darkness.

A few notes about each wine:

2010 – This wine is the most cagey of the bunch.  The acidity is very ‘crispy’, as they like to say in Austria.  It is quite ripe but the acidity balances the fruit perfectly.  It comes across as a medium bodied wine with a lot of energy.  Equally about fruit and spice.

2009 – This is the most opulent of the group.  It is more dense and ripe then the others.  It comes across as oily and tacky on the palate.  Lots of concentration here.  The spice quality is evident for sure, but it takes a back seat to the fruit.

2008 – This wine is the outlier.  There was botrytis in 2008 and it is very evident in this wine.  There is a note of honey with herbs and spices along with super ripe fruit and a sharpness that feels like you are smelling the acidity.  (This is common with botrytis and sometimes reminds me of burnt honey or honeycomb.) The nose is huge here – it seems as if it could go in the sweet direction, but in fact it goes the other way. The palate is very dry, almost austere.  The wine is actually lighter in the mouth than on the nose.  This is a very interesting and cool wine.  A textbook example of botrytis.

2007 – This wine is the beauty of the line-up.  Very elegant and integrated.  The extra time in bottle has probably attributed to this, but the vintage is also a favorite of the winemaker.  It is very clear and bright – the fruit has a brilliance to it and everything seems to be just right.  A very balanced wine.

Click here to listen to the podcast and learn about the brand new fried chicken torta, Cermita Poblano con Milanese de Pollo (and lots of other stuff too)

This podcast marks the 9th in our series. Today, for the first time, we explore the cuisine of Nopalito with Chef Eddie Dick. Last week, we posted a column on our blog called "The Nopa Paradox". The basic premise of the article explored the quandary of sibling restaurants with very different identities. There are musings on how Nopa, the popular elder sibling, and the cuisine of Nopalito, have perhaps been a hindrance to a complete understanding of the Nopalito experience.

Last Friday, we sat down with Eddie to discuss these matters. Eddie, a former Sous Chef at Nopa, has been with Nopalito for the past 5 months. And while Chefs Gonzalo Guzman and Jose Ramos were also once chefs in the Nopa kitchen, (in fact, from the onset) the food of Nopalito is distinctly theirs. It's been over three years and two restaurants since the days of Ramos and Gonzalezs' epic family meals that spawned those two restaurants. So it seemed that Eddie, with fresh eyes, would be interesting to talk to about Nopalito.

And Eddie is a great talker. He's plainspoken in a way that tips off his Kansas roots. He's articulate, thoughtful and genuinely an interesting guy. Over the course of 40 minutes, we covered his childhood and how an absence of restaurants actually helped his sensibilities on food ("when I was 7 years old I had my own garden.. everyone knew the worst grocery store had the worst vegetables"), his 3-year stint in Japan, and how the Nopalito empanada, humble as it may seem, can be a 3-day affair.

The best case scenario for food lovers is to listen to Eddie carry on about food. He reminds (or perhaps informs) us that quesadillas at Nopalito are done to order. Once a ticket comes in, someone begins to roll out the masa. He also teaches us about the corn fungus/delicacy, which can be found in the aforementioned quesadilla with squash.

His description of salsa oozing from the empanada and his talk of fried bamboo shoots, is so graphic it is arresting-an incredible account of enjoying food from the perspective of someone who knows it, loves it and can talk about it. Whether or not you've experienced Nopalito, this podcast will be an enlightenment. You will be better positioned to enjoy our food and inspired to find enjoyment in your own. We hope you enjoy the podcast.

In light of this weekend’s big food event, we had a discussion Margarita Rojas, Marketing and Communications Manager of La Cocina, the event organizer. Click Here to listen to the podcast.

La Cocina- In San Francisco’s Mission District, there are many cocinas, but there is only one, La Cocina. In just seven years, this organization has grown from the inside out of its neighborhood in the Mission, and is now one of the premiere models in the US for joining community development and social enterprise.

For those of us in the business of food, the La Cocina brand, if not entirely understood, is unanimously respected. This is made evident by the breadth of chefs who’ve endorsed the organization through sharing their talents or outspoken support. It’s usually both.

What seems most likely is that people are familiar with La Cocina because of the massive annual SF Street Food celebration. So familiar in fact, that over 80,000 people are expected to join them this weekend for the festival.

And as if that weren’t enough, this year the event has been expanded to include to a Friday Night event called, Night Market. We’re happy to say Nopalito is participating in the inaugural event, so we met Margarita yesterday to learn more about the Night Market and the organization in general.

Impressions from the Podcast Monday lunch hour on what has to be the busiest week of the year for Margarita Rojas (or for that matter, anyone associated with La Cocina), is a tall favor. But Margarita is a nice lady.  She moved from Medellín, Colombia four years ago and has been with La Cocina just over two years. Despite a long weekend volunteering with some of the La Cocina food vendors at Outside Lands, and the onslaught of the work week ahead, she was gracious throughout. We learned a little about her own story of becoming a face and voice of La Cocina, and the origins of “The Kitchen”. You can check out the podcast by clicking this link. Below, some facts and impressions about the organization:

• La Cocina likes to use the term “informal businesses”. Presumably this is in reference to the (functional) black market businesses that serve ethnic communities.  While these businesses are assets for community, it’s also clear that the greater long-term value is in formalizing these businesses. For the business of food, La Cocina helps do this

• The La Cocina mission is Cultivating Food Entrepreneurs

• The founding of La Cocina is an interesting story. Unlike most NGO’s, there was no single visionary. Instead it was the construct of three dinstinct community organizations, who saw the value of creating food entrepreneurs in low-income, ethnic communities. They also have a particular interest in supporting the women of these communities, which makes sense in light of the groups founding “mothers”. Here’s a quick summary of those groups:

• Arriba Juntos- An organization started by three community activists in the 1960’s. Arriba Juntos means, “Upward Together”. At it’s core, the organization was to support the Latino immigrant community with various social services, ranging from education to medicine. They’ve remained true to the mission and are still active.

• The Women’s Initiative for Self-Employment- This is exactly as it sounds. They provide high-potential, low-income women with the training, funding and ongoing support to start their own businesses and become financially self sufficient.

• The Women’s Foundation of California- This organization is a bit more broad. They’re an established grant making nonprofit, who’ve been active for 30 years. In addition to the grantgiving, their website states that they’ve been involved in advocacy for a wide range of issues from gay rights to environmental health.

• It’s nice to see that these respective groups were able to come together to form a singular entity for a shared interest. So often, effective collaboration is a challenge in the nonprofit sector.  It’s also noteworthy that each of the respective organizations are independently active.

• La Cocina also had an anonymous donor that helped launch the organization. I guess if we wanted to identify the singular visionary person that are so often identifiable with nonprofits, we would choose this person.

• At it’s core, La Cocina is actually a kitchen. It is a functional commercial kitchen where startup food businesses can operate legitimately. It’s even available to rent for caterers and chefs who would like to use the space. With 85 food carts participating in this weekends SF Street Food Festival, it’s easy to see how a hospitable commercial kitchen could make so many friends in the industry.

This Weekends Events

SF Street Food Festival- This is La Cocina’s signature celebration since 2009. It is really hard to believe that it has grown this big, this fast. Part of this must be credited to the organization itself for working tirelessly on policy to recognize and formalize mobile food businesses. It is also shows (what we already knew) that the citizens of San Francisco are food obsessed. And that’s why it’s such a remarkable place to live.

Night Market- Margarita described Night Market as “a more intimate” event than SFSFF. Which, technically is true, but the reality is they’re expecting over 1,500 people. There are food vendors coming from around the country (Scott’s BBQ, anyone?) and many participating restaurants from the city including our own. This is a fundraising event, so unlike SFSFF, this one’s a $25 ticket. You can buy one here. We hope to see you all there this weekend!!

Many thanks to Margarita for her time on such a busy week, and Caleb for leading such a tremendous organization. To all of the amazing staff, supporters, and alum of La Cocina, you all are a truly a special group that changes lives. Thanks for all you do!

Over three weeks of rum chronicles and its come to this. The conclusion takes place in Central America, Nicaragua, actually, to explore the rum held there in highest regard. That would be the Flor de Caña. And when national treasures are the topic du jour for the poorest nation in Central America, and in fact, one of the poorest in the world, that treasure should be celebrated. So in this final post, it’s all about Flor de Caña.

Flor de Caña, sugarcane flower, has been produced for 122 years. They’re based in the capital city of Managua. My roommate, Colin, is an avid surfer and just returned from a trip there. His stories of deep blue oceans, good-natured people and copious levels of tranquility and fresh fish were tantalizing. Naturally, he brought back with him a bottle of Flor de Caña. With 80% of the population living on less than $2/day, it’s hard to imagine substantially aged rum making it on the table alongside the daily bread (rather, fish). But by many accounts for those who’ve visited-and especially for visitors-It is a pervasive element in the experience.

Molasses-Based Rum

Flor de Caña is our first foray into a molasses-based rum, the style that is most commonly associated with the spirit. After all of the talk about the fine/refined qualities of Agricole, we have to suppress the instinct to characterize molasses rums as something inferior, even though they are less expensive to produce in this way. But  if quality is the intent, substantial patience and fine oak barrels will eventually get you there.

Originally, in 1890, Flor de Caña  was a sugarcane plantation in the town of Chicalpas, Nicaragua. It was founded by Francisco Alfredo Pellas.  One of the cool things about rum is that it is seamlessly, yet defiantly associated with regional history. Terrior is a word relentlessly besieged upon emerging oenophiles, but with rum, this concept is more organic. For instance, we already know that Agricoles, made from fermentable sugarcane juice, are primarily the thing for the French-speaking Islands. We also know this is the thing in Brazil, but there they call it cachaça. English-speaking Islands drink molasses-based rum. Jamaican and Guyanese rums are famously unctuous and on the sweeter side. For Spanish-speaking islands and countries, the style is añejo, consumed younger and less demanding on the palate. This seems a reasonable path as we explore the origins of rum in Central America. It all comes back to the plantation. After harvest, the celebratory ritual was to drink the fermented molasses byproduct. This is the añejostyle. The reserve stuff, the stuff that spent more time in barrel, that was reserved for the plantation owners.

In 1937 the Pallas’ wanted to get serious about the rum business and created an internal company called Compañía Licorera de Nicaragua, or the CLNSA. Flor de Caña was their first product. It was the plantation owner making rum in the style of plantation owners. This style has always been their narrative, and to their credit, they’ve managed to maintain a family business while vertically integrating. In 1950, they began commercial distribution via Casa Pellas, and today, the CEO Carlos, keeps the family name at the forefront for the 5th generation. So with all that, let’s see how Yanni has employed the 3rd and final contestant in the Nopa Rum Diary.

The Dusk and The Dawn

Of the many things to really like about The Dusk and The Dawn, the names of these drinks really drive home the point of the cocktails in the Spiritual being coupled. Seeing two drinks entitled, “Dusk and Dawn” alongside one another on a cocktail list seemingly necessitates that each are ordered. Or maybe that’s me. Anyhow, let’s (naturally) begin with The Dawn.

The Dawn

·       Flor de Caña  18 year

·       Amaro Nonio

·       Lillet Blanc

·       Rothman & Winter Apricot Liqueur

The Dusk

·       Flor de Caña  18 year

·       Amaro Nonio

·       Lillet Blanc

·       Rothman & Winter Apricot Liqueur

How it’s Made

It’s been covered somewhat, but just want to be clear that we’re actually…clear. So, Rhum Agricole, are “agricultural rhums”. They are mainly about the getting the juice from the sugarcane and fermenting that juice directly. Molasses-based rums are a bit different.  Molasses is a byproduct of boiling that sugarcane juice. There is a dense black residual deposit that emerges. That stuff is molasses. It is sweet and low in acid, which, for the most part is what producers are looking for. That molasses becomes a slurry and is fermented, then distilled. For amber and dark rums, they are aged in toasted barrels, usually for a couple years, in some extreme cases, up to 12 years. Or, if you’re Flor De Caña, you may decide that not until the lifespan of a high school graduate is your premium bottling ready for release. And if you’re Yanni, you may decide that that is exactly what’s needed in this study of rum cocktails. This Dawn has been 18 years in the making.

That’s Amaro

On to the Amaro, which deserves (and has earned) an entire Spiritual in its own right. Amaro, (Italian for “bitter”) are a category of after dinner liqueurs. It is a very similar process to vermouth, which we covered earlier.  The main difference is Amari take on a sweeter profile and are more viscous than vermouth. That bittersweet quality is one of the reasons bartenders are so infatuated with it. It adds a restrained sweetness to cocktails while also bringing lots of depth. Amaro Nonino from Friuli is at the top of the list. It is made from grappa infused with herbs, bitter orange cinchona (bitters!), liquorice, quassia wood, rhubarb, saffron, sweet orange and tamarind. And probably 20 other ingredients because Amaro producers are notoriously tight-lipped about their special proprietary blends. After 5 years in barrel, Nonino is ready for market. If you’ve never tried Nonino, its worthwhile to do so on it’s own merit, accompanied perhaps, only by a single cube.

Lillet

Lillet Blanc is another fashionable ingredient, though one we use far less. Lillet is a French apertif made primarily from the white grapes of Bordeaux (Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon and Muscadelle). It is technically a tonic since it includes a 15% infusion of a bittersweet citrus liqueurs. By now you’ve heard many times that the bitters comes from chincona. Perhaps more surprising is that citrus from Spain and Morocco are used to develop the liqueur. Though Lillet dates back to the 19th century, it wasn’t until 1986 that the current recipe took form. In an effort to modernize the drink, less sugar and less bitters were used. The current iteration is great. It’s lean and very much like drinking wine. It smells and taste of tropical fruit and has great acidity from the Sauvignon Blanc.

Rothman and Winters Apricot Liqueur

Finally, we got to Austria to round out this multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, intercontinental cocktail. It’s the world we live in when it comes to wine and spirits these days. We are remarkably fortunate to live in this time of access, and not just in the way of local ingredients, but global ones. With all of the (warranted) emphasis on locality, the privilege and joy of consuming wine and spirits is that it allows us a connection to a place. And whether that place is foreign or familiar, the connection is real. Not only in the way of how things actually taste (terrior), but as we see in this Spiritual, how the same product is interpreted different ways based on its origins or lineage.

WIth that, we arrive at the Danube Valley in Austria. The Danube is perhaps the most famous river in the wine world. It is the second largest river in Europe and spans 9 countries. In Austria in particular, many of the top vineyards in the country are along the Danube River, on the north side (but facing south). The river is important in regulating vine temperatures, but apparently orchards too (though the vineyards are along the slopes and the orchards, in the flats). There is a producer called Rothman and Winter that produces really fantastic Apricot Liqueur. A local distillery called Purkhart has made famous their “Blume Marillen” eau-de-vie brandy with the fruit juice of the renowned apricots from the region. The Purkharts have been making the apricot eau-de-vie for over 40 years. The style is fairly simple and clean. I went to check it out on its own, and, well, it smells like apricots! It is highly perfumed with underlying botanical aromatics. It is sweet, but in no way cloying. It’s easy to imagine having a glass with a cheese plate adorned with seasonal fruit or marmalade. It would cut right through a rich cheese, but anything less it may show too much heat (26.2% abv). This is not to be confused with a sweet and sappy apricot liqueur. This is high proof brandy that has been flavored with apricots, not the other way around.

So those are all the elements, but where does that leave us? On a basic inspection, it seems we have a lot of sweet and bitter components. Even within the realm of this Spiritual, we are in uncharted territory.

Dropping Acid

Even with the benefit of tasting, picture taking and note taking this sequence was a challenge. What your eyes read, and what you palate tastes are not easily reconciled. The lesson: acidity. Never underestimate the crucial role of acid in the food you taste and the things you drink. This is among the most basic of concepts, but as the essential role of salt (especially with starches) never ceases to amaze, acid will completely alter the course a cocktail. On the surface, and based on everything we just explored in all of the elements, it would appear that The Dusk would be a sweeter cocktail, but it isn’t. Even with a rich molasses-based rum, with Amaro Nonino, with Lillet Blanc, with Apricot Eau-de-vie, The Dusk is ominous and billowing. It is a formidable drink that walks the spirituous line without wavering. *It is also worth mentioning that it is stirred.

And yet, The Dawn, with the same backbone and without the sweet, bright addition of Lillet, is whimsical and open. How so? Lemon juice. The addition of lemon juice and the most vigorous shaking we’ve seen thus far brings The Dawn to its apropos title. It is an awakening, plush and tart.

To Yanni, I have to offer sincere thanks for the amount of detail and craftsmanship that went into this Spiritual. Very few will ever grasp your spirituous fervor, but to work with you, and within it, is a joy. Writing about the spiritual has simultaneously reinforced and redefined my understanding of the subtleties of fine drink making. Looking forward to the next one.

Picking up from the last entry of the Rum Diary. We were just about to get into the details of The Prince, Yanni’s spirituous endeavor with Barbancourt, a Haitian Rhum. In this Spiritual, The Prince is perhaps the furthest style from its counter, Classique. For this reason, it is also best reveals the intention of the Spiritual. If you wanted to play the game, either by yourself or with a friend, these would be the two to taste side by side. Barbancourt dolled up and Barbancourt stripped down are two very different experiences.

A Bitter Diatribe: As described in the last segment of the previous post, The Princebegins in a rocks glass, with a few drops of bitters. Yes, bitters. Most people know bitters. Actually, most people are familiar with bitters.

Of all the difficult to pronounce/decipher bits on our cocktail list, bitters is actually a reprieve. Thanks largely to the Manhattan, Old Fashioned or perhaps your thrifty grandmother, (who employs it as a tonic for an upset stomach), you’ve seen bitters around. It’s typically identified as the medicinal bottle blanketed in oversized white paper and tiny font, and is a staple on just about every bar counter in America. And it definitely tastes bitter, but what the hell is it?

Bitters, according to Grossman’s Guide for Wine, Beer and Spirits is, aromatic essences and flavors incorporated into an alcohol base. The flavors come from fruit, plants, seeds, flowers, leaves, bark, roots and stems.

In simplest terms, bitters are a high proof infusion. The most common among those flavorings come from gentian (a mountain flower) root and cinchona-tree bark from the Andean forests in South America that harbor a chemical compound called quinine. It’s the quinine that contains the medicinal value (best known for malaria treatment), and is really the origins of bitters.

The big three of bitters, so to speak, is Angostura (the Lebron James of bitters), from Trinidad, Peychaud’s (of Sazerac fame, from New Orleans) and Underberg, from Germany. But as in kitchens, these days, the ante has been raised behind the bar, and many a bartender (including ours) have taken to making their own. And you can believe that when bartenders play chef, a wide range of the aforementioned ingredients are used. Pretty much, bitters can be as diverse as intricately constructed as the cocktail itself. You can even buy obscure ingredients to make your own bitters here.

The Prince & The Classique

Sugarcane at Barbancourt

Here’s where it gets fun. First, a rundown of the ingredients of these two drinks.

The Prince:

• Angostura bitters
• Bharbancourt 8 Year Rhum
• Velvet Falernum
• Vina AB Amontiallado Sherry

To begin, a rocks glass is gently coated with Angostura. It is used sparingly as it is quite an intense ingredient. The rest of the cocktail is built in a pint glass. The rhum, is followed by a splash of Velvet Falernum and (the wild card savory ingredient) Amontiallado.

Velvet Falernum is a syrup primarily seen in rum cocktails. This is perfectly logical since its origins (over 200 years old) are in Barbados. Imagine Falernum as simple syrup that has been infused with lime, almond, ginger and clove. It is viscous and milky, obviously sweet, but nuanced. It’s actually quite delicious.

Viña AB is a sherry from Gonzalez Byass, the 5th generation bodega in the town of Jerez. Jerez is in Andalucia, the sherry province in southwestern Spain. We use it a lot in our cocktails. The application is basically the same as vermouth, which is to say, it is a stabilizer: the brace that binds fruit, acid and/or spirit. Viña AB is typical of fine Amontialldos. It smells of roasted almonds and is bone dry. Sherry is an integral part of our beverage program, both in wine (we have 9 offerings by the glass) and behind the bar. Each have dedicated entire features to sherry and many of Yanni’s original cocktails contain sherry. Last month, New York Times Wine Editor, Eric Asimov wrote a great piece on the modern sherry industry. There’s lots of great info there. But for the purposes of this article, Viña AB is the thing separating the Prince and the Classique- The Prince has it, the Classique does not. And the separation is vast.

All the ingredients are poured into a pint glass, then topped with ice. Yanni shakes it once, maybe twice, really quickly, just to lower the temperature. The mix is poured over the bitterly calibrated rocks glass, then topped with two large ice cubes. Yanni grabs an orange and twists the peel over the drink sending a furious orange mist just over the top. This is a common bar technique utilized purely for aromatic indulgence.

The Prince smells of heavily spiced banana nut bread. It is serious. The Barbancourt reveals itself, and so do the other spicy elements. It is a slow sipper, but the cohesion is impressive. So much so, that it is hard to tell if the spice comes from the bitters, the Falernum or the rhum. Interestingly, there is no detection of sweetness. The Falernum has added weight and spice, but the sweetness has been subdued.

Classique

The Classique is fleshy, tropical and tart

With the Classique, the coin is flipped. The down tempo sherry note is replaced by high toned acidity. The offspring is a luscious kaleidoscope of tropical fruit, all bound together by fresh lime juice.

Tasting The Prince first seems like the way to go. It is the more nuanced of the two. In particular, beginning with The Prince makes the already distinctive qualities of the drinks even more apparent. This may not be the highest truth for rum, but it definitely feels authentic. It harkens the Sidecars, Punches, Runners and Daquiris. It is so evocative of all the familiar attributes of rum cocktails, without the animated sweetness and prepubescent sugar levels.

In short, Classique affords you the opportunity to order a rum cocktail without any shame.  The Classique is both the gateway and epiphany, and truthfully, a rather uplifting departure from the rigidity and precision typically associated with our bar.

*For a less amped up version of the sweet-spicy-tart profile, you could also enjoy a half bottle of Huet Demi-Sec Vouvray or the delicious (off-menu) Montenegro and Lime, which has the same ingredients as the title of the drink.

Rum Origins

So far most of the analysis of this Spiritual has centered on the way these cocktails drink. We’ve been looking at the dramatic variance in the profile of a cocktail where only a subtle component has changed. But this Spiritual is also organized by producers, and is in fact, very much about the producers. In the Agricole Punch, Ginger Beer and Lemon add a spicy-sweet-sour approachability to the otherwise serious La Favorite Rhum Agricole. Predictably, when tasted alongside the stripped down Creole cocktail, this is abundantly clear. But what about the producer, themselves? What are the commonalities?

As in wine, in order to gain a complete understanding of what’s being served, we have to look at origins. Wine professionals are maniacal about the role of terrior (the place) in the wine, and in serious debate, it is the center point of the discussion and ultimate assessment of quality. Evaluating beverages from this perspective is by no means definitive, but it does allow a common ground. In other words, Rhum Agricole from Martinique, should taste of…”x” (x in this case would be sweet pears, grass, salt, etc). If citrus or juice has been added to rhum, you need not be an expert to decipher the change. It is evident. But part of the exercise is (or should be) to identify which elements of the spirit clearly speak of the producer. Also, what was the method of production or the terrior? The type of thinking will serve you not only in drinking these cocktails, but in drinking wine, beer, tea or any other fine beverage. As you become more in-tune you with this process, your retention and understanding grow, and the more expansive your drinking database becomes. And don’t we all aspire to a more expansive drinking database?

Rhum By Another Name

We can begin with the clearest indicator of place-the spelling. The “h” in rhum is indicative of the French speaking Islands. That includes Martinique, the primary source source for quality rhum, and the place from which we’re granted the aforementioned La Favorite. This also includes Haiti and Guadeloupe. Trying to cover the cultural and historical breadth of Martinique Rhum in this condensed text is  excessively ambitious, but, we’ll begin the conversation.

Martinique is the largest of the French West Indies Islands. La Favorite was founded there in 1842 and remains one of two family-owned distilleries there

It is important to understand Rhum Agricole as very French. Consider the serious nature with which the French approach their food and drink. From butter to Rhum (mmm…rhum butter…), there is an intervening government entity that must endorse the merit, or place of origin for these products. The agency, very well known in wine circles, is the Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) which translates as “controlled designation of origin.” And its really that (1635) deep. Whereas the rest of the world is perfectly content to make marginal to repulsive rum and focus their energies on marketing, Martinique is the only place in the world where those 3 auspicious letters are found on a bottle of rum. And as for La Favorite, well, it’s basically the 1%. Along with Neisson they are held in the highest esteem on the island and are the only two family-owned producers that remain on the island.

On to Haiti: Rhum Barbancourt

The Prince, is cleverly named after Haiti’s capital city of Port-au-Prince. It’s been two and a half years, but whenever Port-au-Prince comes up, it is still difficult to seperate this place from the graphic images and general destruction of the 2010 earthquake. The damage of that earthquake is so strongly associated with Port-au-Prince, that the city will bear this asterisk for the rest of our lives. And that’s saying quite a lot for a nation that has endured slavery, environmental and political catastrophes for the last 200 years.  But rhum, distilled from fermented sugarcane juice, and not molasses, is a part of Haitian history too. And since the mid 19th century, Bharbancourt Rhum has been the pride of Haiti. And that should also be part of the association.

Following the disastrous earthquake, Barbancourt was able to resume production in just a few months. It is a testament to the strength of the Haitians and the important role of rhum in Haitian culture. It’s important to distinguish Barbancourt, which does $12-million in annual sales, from, say, Bacardi. This isn’t some behemoth multinational company saying, “we need to recoup!”  It is totally feasible that the owner of Barbancourt knows the names of his employees. The rhums that spilled into the streets were up to 15-years old. These guys are in the business of making the best rhum they possibly can. For the surrounding community, this distillery is a livelihood and source of pride.

The Prince

As an homage to the producer, this is a great cocktail. We begin the Prince with a rocks glass and a dropper. The dropper goes into the bitters is gently and methodically squeezed. A thin puddle of the dark bitters barely coat the bottom of  the glass despite its small circumference. Yanni grabs the glass and while slowly rolling his wrists into the shape of an o. The bitters have coaxed in all directions and now coat the floor of the glass. The Prince is primed. For now, we’ll stop here. There will soon be a sequel post, where we’ll dissect this cocktail alongside its partner, The Classique.

Before reading this post, it may be helpful to reference this one. That link is to the introductory article on The Rum Diary Spiritual. The Rum Diary is intended to be absorbed in couplets and the Creole Apertif is best assessed by also taking into account its sibling, Agricole Punch. If you’d rather jump right in, feel free to do so and cross reference the previous one if the words byrrh or agricole are foreign ones.

Creole Apertif vs. Agricole Punch

How to best describe the Creole Apertif? It’s very, well…agricoley. The Rhum Agricole has no place to hide. And that’s just the point. Imagine Agricole Punch (or as we’ll see later, the Classique) in the context of a first date. The idea is to show yourself, but just enough. Certainly there is more depth and rougher edges behind the politeness of a first impression, but it is intrigue, not comfort that you’re after. Once you grow more comfortable, the closer we come to the authentic you. The Creole is the authentic you.

The stripped down Creole Apertif is aromatically savory, almost sherry like in its salinity. But on the palate, there’s an interesting interplay of La Favorite and Byrrh. It was surprising that the Byrrh stood up to the burl of Agricole, enveloping it with an embrace of purple fruit. It was experienced as immensely concentrated, raisiny and jammy even. Since this cocktail is not the least bit sweet, this is an enlightened expression. We found a few soft pockets in an otherwise stern cocktail.

The Important Role of Vermouth

The silent partner in all of this is Dolin Dry Vermouth. Dolin, from Chambéry, is our vermouth of choice. It is seen in no less than a half-dozen of our most popular cocktails. Vermouths from Chambéry are dry in nature (served alone, Dolin is drier than Ben Stein stand-up), lean and tastes of the Alps- its place of origin along France’s Eastern borders.

True the Vin de Savoie AC is a bit further north, it is hard to overlook its comparable flavor profile to the white grapes of Savoie, like Jacquère or Altesse.

Today, Dolin stands alone as the torchbearer of Chambéry vermouth tradition. They are the only producer in the AOC of Chambéry. Perhaps we’ll cover vermouths role in greater detail at some point in the future, but for now, this cocktail is a perfect microcosm for how it works. It is the role of a jazz bassist. To an indifferent ear, the blast of the horn or giggle of piano is perceived. But it is the bass that is the enabler. It is a thankless foundation from which the other elements are granted room for vibrant expression. The same is true of vermouth in cocktails.

Check out this awesome map highlighting vermouths from around Europe. The flurry of activity seen around Torino is to be expected. Piedmont’s capital city has a long history of vermouth production. Their style, Carpano’s are usually red, richer and spicier than the mellow herbal driven ones of Chambéry.

Final Analysis

Of all the cocktails in this spiritual, the Creole appears the most exacting and demanding. You can scarcely avoid “forgetting” about this drink even as you’re engrossed in other matters.  The Creole Apertif is well suited for the first drink of the night (dry and lean, yet robust) and also for those interested in furthering their experiences with Rhum Agricole.

Because we put so much energy into it, it’s easy to forget that the Nopa beverage program is not immediately understood by many of our guests. Internally, words like Feature, Insert and Spiritual are commonly used. They are important words in the vocabulary of our restaurant, but more importantly, an essential part of our identity. The Spiritual and Wine Feature are composed by distinctive and passionate artists who fill this platform with great care and intention. But intention is not the same as attention, and in the bustle of dinner, it easy to pay very little to a beverage menu. Understandable. So, as we’ve done before, we’ll do a series of posts on the current spiritual to bridge the gap.

The current Spiritual is entitled, The Rum Diary, named after Hunter S. Thompson’s classic novel. Clearly, the cocktails are all rum-based. The sound of it is very lighthearted- a departure from Yanni’s typical approach to drink making. But upon examination, the veil lowers.

It’s easy to miss the intellectual vibe of the Spiritual, but basically it’s this:

Two cocktails from three rum producers; one stern and spirituous, the other juicier and more open, but the ingredients for both are basically the same. It’s like one little tweak here or there and you’ve got something completely different. The idea is to show subtle changes can make big differences.  It’s a really fun and challenging exercise since rum is our medium. For instance, consider the Manhattan drinker. Even the adventurous within the category are don’t stray far from whiskey. It’s sort of that way with rum. It carries a particularly juvenile stigma.  But the dualistic nature of this Spiritual has offered a great awakening. Rum can be serious.

Agricole Punch: The opening cocktail is the Agricole Punch. It is the juice based offering from La Favorite. This type of rhum is what’s known as an agricole. If you wanted to put to the test that serious nature, you’d definitely drink agricole. Rhum Agricole is dry, very warm (read, high alcohol), savory and pungent. It’s made from fermented sugar cane juice. Whether we’re talking beer or tea, once something ferments, the nature of that thing is changed. What’s left is an individual, a highly stylized character that keeps it interesting. In case, the aromatics are of spiced pears and the palate has a slight vegetal quality and lots of depth.

The Agricole is mixed with an even more obscure element. Byrrh Grand Quinquina. Byrrh is pronounced “beer”, but is actually a wine-based apertif. It is blended with quinine and and other botanicals and fortified. Byrrh has been in production for 125 years sourcing Grenache grapes from the Languedoc Roussillon in France. The leading brand was acquired by the mega-producer/shipper Pernot in 1977 and held dormant until now, revived as a result of the appetite for stuff like this from people like Yanni. It has a rich, almost dessert wine like quality on the palate. It is similar to the Bonal Quinquina, but is a bit fruiter on entering the palate. The mid-palate shifts predictably to dark herbs as quinquinas do. Served chilled, it’s a really great apertif.

Construction: The Rhum, Byrrh, and Lemon Juice are put into a pint glass. There’s just a little but of ice added, followed by a quick shake. A really quick shake since the idea is not to dilute it, rather chill it (the final iteration is served on the rocks anyhow). The drink is then strained into a Collins glass and ginger beer is added. Though everything is measured, as I watched Yanni make the drink, there was a whimsical nature to the ginger beer addition. It was still jiggered, but it was done with such liberty, that it reinforced the vibe of this “dualing” spiritual. The glass is filled to the top with ice. Now, the best part: the garnish is a heavy-handed topping of Angostura bitters. The Byrrh has given the drink a high-toned pink color, that looks strikingly dissimilar to most of the things that come from behind our bar. It does in fact look quite punchy.

The bitters float is visually interesting, providing a sharp contrast to the look of the drink. With a quick glance, it could be mistaken for Coke, but if you’re close enough to smell, that theory goes quickly. For bitters lovers, the blast of on the surface of the cocktail is a cheap thrill. (Admittedly, this was my method). But the idea is for the bitters to be applied as desired by the user, eventually making its way throughout the cocktail and adding a measure of restraint to the lemon and ginger. The best part about the drink though, is that the La Favorite does not run and hide. It can’t. We’re still left with a persistent vegetal undertone, which shows well with the other elements of the cocktail. This is the second most approachable cocktail in The Rum Diary Spiritual. It looks great and is super fun to drink. Come check it out!

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Bosco Agostino is a winery in the region of Alba, a town in the famed Piedmont wine region in northwest Italy. For oenophiles and gourmands (the town is also revered for their white truffles) the Alba brand is an impeccable one. Last month, Arron, one of our managers, took a trip to Italy, and predictably, allotted some time for the sacred gastronomic grounds. Even better, he was led around the countryside of Barolo by Andrea Bosco the third-generation grape grower, whose  winery bears the same name as his. When Arron returned, he spoke excitedly about many of the wines and people he encountered, but perhaps none more so than Andrea. When the wines were listed this week, I was excited to tap in to Arron’s nostalgia. Even more exciting was to find the Barbera so substantive.

Check out the Piedmont wine map. Can you see Alba? Just south of the Tanaro River

New Old School

A common thing among winey people is to assess the character of the wine as “old school” or “new school”. Frankly, I haven’t been drinking long enough (or even around long enough) to really understand the distinction. It is generally accepted that “new school” is akin to New World. Translated, it is experienced as lots of fruit, alcohol and/or oak.

But now it seems that old school is the new new school. It is no coincidence that many of our favorite producers are anti- interventionist, and some proclaim to make wine completely naturally. Since technology was not historically a word used to describe the winemaking process, it’s hard to argue the point. But as Chris pointed out in his Syrah article earlier this week, a lot of “New World” producers are making wine with “Old World” sensibilities. To explore the idea further, I referenced Hugh Johnson and James Halliday’s Vintner’s Art, which tackles this very subject.

For the purposes of that particuliar text, Piedmont is synonomous to the prestigious Nebbiolo grape. But when discussing Nebbiolo, the next breath can be spent on the native Barbera. It is an essential threading in the proud fabric of Piemont’s wine tradition. It is a fair expectation that it can be found alongside Nebbiolo on most of the region’s top sites. For producers like Andrea, whose grandfather starting farming grapes in 1904, he has the benefit of familial tradition (especially crucial when farming the same land) and modern application; ie, old school and new school. Looking at the wine from this perspective, it looks something like this:

The 2007 vintage in Piedmont was warm, even and early. The grapes were picked a full three weeks prior to the harvest from the 2006 vintage. While the earlier picking is somewhat indicative of the vintage (producers did not want overly ripe fruit), the same reasoning is now commonplace in Piedmont. In Vintners Art Johnson and Halliday talk about the declining favor of late harvest, high alcohol, high tannin wine. This is seen incrementally over the last 30 years and validated in tasting. So that's old school viticulture in Piedmont.

In the cellar, the wine is vinified in stainless steel tanks (definitely modern) and “pumped over”. This refers to a method in which a valve siphons juice from just underneath the dense cap of floating grape skins and pumps it over the top. The juice filters through the cap, along the way, picking up color and weight. This happens 3-4 times daily.

Then comes the cellaring regiment. The cellaring program is a series of decisions that critically affect the personality of a wine, and is probably the most hotly contested element in “new/old-school” winemaking debate. In Piedmont, large wooden casks are less common than the (59 gallon) French barriques. In this case, 30% of the wood is new and the remaining 70% used. The wine is stored in these barrels for 14-15 months before bottling. This, by “old-school” (Nebbiolo) standards, is a short amount of time.

And though Barbera doesn’t have always the constitution to withstand that kind of barrel aging (mainly because its lush aromatics would be sacrificed), the new norm in Piedmont still seems to be less time in oak.

Perhaps the economy, perhaps the generation, perhaps the consumer are to blame, but at least in this example, the approach has been a success. We’re left with a supple wine with exceedingly generous black cherry aroma. The palate is soft and full, unmistakably oaked, but not overly, high acid, but no sharp edges. In all, this would be considered a “modern” wine-suited for international palates, yet technically correct for Barbera d’Alba.

I like watching a winemaker evolve and mature.  There has been a movement over the past number of years wherein a number of young winemakers have started to push the boundaries of wine in California.  I suppose it is a natural shift – a swinging back of the pendulum – because whereas 15 years ago people where pushing the boundaries of ripeness towards more is better – this new wave is pushing the other direction.  They are wondering just how much ripeness is necessary to make great wine – indeed, just how much is ideal.

I have always found it interesting just how few California winemakers I know who actually drink California wine.  Their cellars are full of Cornas, Burgundy or Vouvray.  There are empty bottles of Dagueneau, Comtes-Lafon, Huet, Roumier and Allemand sitting on some ledge in the winery or tasting room.  I think it is important for all winemakers to understand wine from many different terroirs – especially the accepted great terroirs of the world.  But this phenomenon seems like something more than just education.  It seems like taste preference.  I wondered why, if they preferred the style of Ogier or Allemand, they continued to make wine in a much bigger, riper, more dense style.

I think there are probably a number of answers to this question.  The first might be simple economics.  Big, rich wines are favored by some important critics and they get bigger scores which equals better sales.   (While people love to vilify Parker and blame his personal preferences for the trend towards over blown wines, I think the root has more to do with the idea of tasting and scoring a wine in general.  When you sit and taste a number of wines – giving each one just a 30 second tryout – the extroverted, high impact wines will stand out.  A shy, introverted wine will rarely excel in this situation.  Yet this does not mean that all wines that don’t scream at you are of a lesser quality.  Indeed, I find the ones that reveal themselves slowly and quietly are often the most interesting. )  Another explanation that I have heard many times is that one does not get to choose what style of wine to make – rather you make whatever style the site gives you.  And I agree that this must to true to some degree, but I also think that it is untrue to a large degree.  Winemakers like Chris Brockway and Steve Matthiason have forced me reconsider this notion.  They are making wines in regions famous for power, extraction and alcohol and their renditions are lean, pretty, balanced and very low alcohol.  And they do not taste under-ripe.

My own conclusion is a mix of these two explanations.  I think the market has asked for a certain style and winemakers have given it to them.  I also think that many winemakers are still figuring out how to make other styles.  The focus has been on how to get fruit incredibly ripe and make good wine out of it.  But now the focus is changing and many people are working on figuring out how to get the flavors ripe and keep the sugars low.  I think that many of them are finding out that the definition of ripe that they have been taught may be too narrow – or just incorrect.  One of my favorite stories along these lines is from Kevin Kelly of Salinia and NPA.  He told me how the first time he made Syrah from Heintz Vineyard he waited until all of the leaves fell off of the vines and then picked the fruit because what else are you going to do at that point.  It was ‘under-ripe’ by all given standards.  He decided to throw it in a fermenter anyway because he was making it for Charlie Heintz and Charlie wanted it regardless of how ripe the fruit was at harvest.  Charlie had told Kevin that he could have half of the wine as payment for making it.  Directly after harvest he called Charlie and told him not to worry about payment – he could keep all of the wine.  Kevin figured it was going to be green, vegetal and worthless anyway.  A few days later he went to check on the wine and when he opened the lid to the fermenter he was blasted by beautiful floral, peppery, fruity aromas.  He immediately called Charlie back and said he had reconsidered – he wanted half of the wine.  I have tasted that wine – I still have a couple bottles of it.  It is brilliant Syrah.  One of the best I have ever tasted from California.  And it was technically completely under-ripe.  So maybe we all still have a lot to learn about ripeness and what it actually means.  Maybe grapes don’t have to be super market, table-grape-sweet to make great wine.  Maybe by the time you can eat them like candy they are over-ripe.

Aha! moments such as these are giving farmers and winemakers the confidence to push against the accepted ideas of wine here in California.  They are searching out ever-cooler sites and farming with the intention of maximizing flavor ripeness and minimizing sugar ripeness.  They are then picking the fruit at super low brix levels and making wine with crazy low alcohol levels.  Sometimes these wines are hard to understand.  When I tasted the first bottling of Clary Ranch Syrah from Arnot-Roberts, I found the flavors and aromas to be outstanding, but I thought the wine seemed thin.  It was around 11.5% ABV and I thought what it needed was another percentage point of alcohol.  I didn’t buy the wine that year because I felt it was incomplete.  It sold out quickly and disappeared from the market.  A year after release I got to taste the wine again.  It was amazing how much it had changed.  It had gained weight in bottle and now the texture was pitch perfect and the aromas and flavors were deeper and more complex.  I learned something that day.  I did not understand the wine when I first tasted it.  And I doubt that Nathan or Duncan really knew what kind of change it would undergo either, although maybe they had a hunch.  This idea of needing time in bottle to really show brings about yet another hurdle for winemakers.  The market wants wines that are ready to drink now.  But that is why I call these winemakers courageous – because they are taking a risk and doing what is best for the wine and not simply making something that they can sell quickly.  This is not an easy decision.

So now there are a group of winemakers who are seeing new possibilities in California wine.  They are starting to believe that they can actually make the kind of wine they love to drink.  This is very exciting to me.  One of the more important figures in this transition is Wells Guthrie at Copain.  He has already had a storied career as a winemaker.  He has made wine from dozens of sites throughout California.  And while I think his wines have always leaned more towards elegance and balance than sheer power, he was definitely making wines in the accepted ‘California’ style of the day – lots of fruit, heavy extraction, new oak, etc.  Many of his wines garnered high praise and big scores and his label, Copain, gained a bit of a cult following.  But he has recently been moving farther away from this style of wine.  He learned to make wine working with Chapoutier in the Northern Rhone and the wines he is currently making lean more in that direction. He has been experimenting with cooler sites, earlier picking, no new wood and more whole cluster fermentation.  All of the sites for Copain are farmed organically and all of the wines ferment with indigenous yeast.

We are currently featuring four wines from Copain at Nopa.  We have the 2009 and 2010 Baker Ranch Syrah and the 2009 and 2010 Halcon Vineyard Syrah.  All of them are available by the glass or half glass as well as by the bottle.

The Baker Ranch Vineyard is in the Anderson Valley.  This vineyard is at 1300 feet in elevation on the Eastern slope of the Coast Range.  It falls within both the Mendocino Ridges and Anderson Valley AVAs.  The vineyard is planted to Pinot Noir and Syrah.  (Many of our favorite Syrah vineyards happen to be Pinot vineyards as well.)  The soil is a series called Casabonne, which is a sedimentary soil composed of gravelly-loam.  Sort of sandy with a diverse pebble size, some as large as gravel, others more like silt.  It drains well but does hold some moisture and has a moderate degree of nutrients.  Wells has been making wine from this site for a number of vintages.  I have recently tasted the 2007 version of this wine and the shift in style that I wrote about earlier is very evident in the 2009 and 2010.  The Baker Ranch vineyard produces a slightly more plush wine than the Halcon Vineyad.  There is more fruit and more density and they tend to be a little more open.  2009 was a warmer year and the wine has more density than the 2010, which a lighter, prettier wine.  Both are very aromatic and pretty with a medium bodied frame.  The 2009 has more tannin while the 2010 is more acid driven.

The Halcon Vineyard sits at 2400 feet in the Yorkville Highlands AVA.  This is a very cool, rocky and windy site.  The soils are Yorkville Series consisting primarily of broken schist.  (Schist is metamorphic in origin, as compared to the sedimentary soils of Baker Ranch.) They are well-drained and nutrient poor.  The vines up here have a harder life than the ones down in the valley.  The Halcon Vineyard produces a more mineral driven wine.  The fruit is in the background and it is laced with black pepper and blue flowers.  The wines from this site are more angular, less plush and more tightly wound.   Again the 2009 version has a riper fruit profile with a little more fat to it but also more tannin.  The 2010 is more austere and has high acid and medium tannin.  It is a lighter wine, but it is taut and still quite powerful.

Both of these wines are undeniably Syrah, but they lack the jammy, rich berry fruit and heavy extraction, color and glycerol that comes from very ripe fruit and a certain style of winemaking.  They are built almost more like a Pinot Noir with Syrah flavors and a Syrah spine.  But this is, in my mind, what great Syrah tastes like.  It does not need to be rich, dense and fruit driven.  In fact, I think sometimes fruit masks the other elements of the wine.  Fruit is crucial to great wine, no doubt, but it is only one component of great wine.  There is also acid, tannin, minerality, spice and floral notes that can get drowned out when the fruit dial is cranked up.  But tone down the fruit just a little and suddenly you have a wine with multiple dimensions.  Every wine has a chorus of voices.  When you can hear them all you get complexity and harmony.   I personally find this murmuring of many voices so much more interesting than the amplified bellowing of just the one voice of fruit.

Click here for a superb view of the vineyards.

The link above takes you to a really cool website that allows you to check out the different vineyards around the Anderson Valley.  It should be showing the Hawkes Butte Vineyard and also the Halcon Vineyard when it pops open.  You can move your cursor over the highlighted area and it will give you details about the vineyards.  If you click on them you can get even more details.  Follow Highway 128 up into the Anderson Valley until you see the Philo-Greenwood Road.  It is just past Savoy Vineyard, which is marked on the map and just before Navarro Vineyards.  Follow this road west and it will lead you to the Baker Ranch Vineyard.   Or just go to the vineyards tab at the to of the site and access the drop down menu of all of the vineyards on the map.  Baker Ranch is listed alphabetically under ‘S’ for the Samuel and Margaret Baker Ranch.

Cheers!

CD

Click Here to Listen to the CUESA Podcast

CUESA, the Center for Urban Education about Sustainable Agriculture is undergoing a rebranding of sorts. They want to focus more on CUESA, the word (pronounced,   kway-sa) rather than the entire proper name. That was the first thing I learned on last Friday morning, June 22nd, when I met their Executive Director Dave Stockdale. That's a good thing, too, since even I, whose tried to commit it to memory, must still stop and speak with some purpose to ensure I don't sack the name. And for the next hour, this continued: asking and learning about CUESA.

Dave is pleasantly articulate and considerate with his words. He was a great interview. And though it wasn't especially hard-hitting (no sharp edges, policy talk, etc), it wasn't supposed to be. Nopa has long had a relationship with the nonprofit, and wanted to share more about their programming and their role in educating consumers and food professionals, who Dave says, "are the next generation of Sustainable Food Leaders". Seems like pretty important work when put in those terms.

You can listen to the podcast in its entirety, by clicking here, but listed below are some highlights from the podcast, and things you generally ought to know about the organization.

• CUESA is the manager of the Ferry Plaza Famer's Market, widely regarded as one of the premiere in the nation

• CUESA was founded in 1994, two years after the market opened, to educate consumers about the (especially then) obscure ingredients that were being sold in the market

• Dave lists Alice Waters and Star Route Famer/Founder Warren Weber among those responsible for starting the market in 1992

• CUESA receives funding through market revenues, donors, sponsors and their popular seasonal fundraising events

• For the public, they offer Farm Tours, where a bus takes 55 cityfolk out into the wild to learn and see up close where their food comes from. The program has also been extended to include prepared food purveyors who also participate in the market

• For the trade, (and about educating those leaders of tomorrow) CUESA works with culinary schools to set up externships for students, and also hosts chefs from other cities to visit the market and learn how what they are doing could be applied in their own local food systems.

• Finally, the coolest part about CUESA, is their website. If you ever go to that wonderful market on Tuesday or Saturday and want to know exactly where that farm is that grew the best strawberries you'd ever tasted, it's all there. They do wonderful profiles of the farms and supplement it with a google earth map.  It is really cool and really informative.

Hope you enjoy the podcast!

You wanna be like Al? Or for that matter, Merrell? You gotta start getting ready for work at noon. Maybe sooner. If-and only if- you can cook like them (though, let's be honest..), then you must do it all day. Chopping, supreming, paring, sorting, picking, plucking. Washing.

Then work starts. You surf waves of food for eight hours. Perhaps a couple thousand plates. After twelve hours of work, on your feet, you can exhale. A little. You wait for the seats on the end of the bar to open up. The restaurant thins out a bit and its time to "get gracious" and have glass of wine. But work continues. You've done a quick survey of the walk-in, but only a quick one, because you're a step quicker than the quick moving inventory. Because you're Al or Merrell.

With the days menu in hand, can you still find stimulus in this 14th hour? There will be hundreds to feed tomorrow. They have no idea nor care for the hour or circumstances in which the menu was constructed, it just needs to be delicious.

Hall & Oates or perhaps Beyonce has usurped the soundtrack of screams, crashing, bubbling and sizzling. The house lights have come down. Item by item, line by line, you make a plan for tomorrow. Blueberries or pickled beets with the warm goat cheese? And what about the stone fruit that needs to be used tomorrow? There's not that much. On a flatbread or grilled with a pork chop...? These decisions are eased as the wine sets in. But you're definitely tired. All told, this is a 16-hour day. And this is no one-off catering gig or pop-up. You have to have the stamina to do the same thing tomorrow. When you begin again and see what Laurence has brought from the market.

You wanna be like Al and Merrell? Maybe. But it's a hell of a lot easier to live through these photographs. Thanks to Xandre Borghetti, a working warrior in his own right, for beautifully capturing these quiet moments. As Al would say, "it's all a part of the passion."

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.

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.

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.