The Fourth July

It can't really be unusual that I always want to relive the fun and happy moments of my life. This tendency has got to be human nature, this need to recreate a successful event or fun family time and to want experience the feeling of joy and celebration over and over again. We all do it; we venture to host our second and third annual Christmas parties, revisit the exotic locations of our family vacations, travel on our second honeymoons and decide to have more children. I have tried on my occasion, often unsuccessfully, to recreate my most cherished times and have often ended up disappointed because frankly, it is just really difficult to make something "happen" more than once. Most of the time the problem lies in the fact that my expectations are just too high and my memories of past events too idealized. Other times, the stars and planets just don't align in the same way they did before. I guess that's life.

For me, the Fourth of July is that day that I try to "do over" year after year and for the last four, I've been really lucky. It all started four years ago when we invited our friends Amy Christine and her husband Peter Hunken out to our place in Malibu for a day of sun, food and fireworks. Amy and Peter make some really fantastic wines (Holus Bolus, Hocus Pocus, Genuine Risk and Dalla Pancia) and to say that they are serious wine lovers is an understatement. They also happen to be two of my favorite people on earth. They are fun, laid back and just really nice to be around. We invited them out for a belated celebration of Peter's July 1 birthday with a feast of food, wine and fireworks.

My task that day was to make lunch while Amy and Peter grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator in my garage. I tend to keep more than a few bottles of yummy special wine out there since for me, Malibu is the perfect place to enjoy a bottle of wine. You see, the house that my husband and I have out there is one of the few places that I can go to really relax. It's very casual and quiet, and best of all, it gets horrible cell phone service, so going out there, all the way to the edge of Zuma is an act of strategic, wine-filled escape.

Now, believe it or not, I don't have the crazy wine collection that I should. I just don't have the time or opportunity to drink the wine that I would amass if I was to start my own cellar. My husband doesn't drink, so opening an entire bottle of wine for me to only consume one glass is just too wasteful for me to handle. And honestly, cataloging and caring for such an investment is more than I can handle right now. Instead, I've bought a few random special bottles to enjoy when friends come over or to drink on a special occasion like this one.

I told Amy and Peter to pull out any bottle they wanted and was thrilled when they came back with a bottle of 2004 Coche-Dury Corton Charlemagne. I bought a few bottles of Coche-Dury wines in pre-recessionary times and was waiting for the perfect time to open one up. Coche-Dury is thought by many, including me, to be one of the all-time best and most sought-after producers of white Burgundy. Jean-François Coche is the third generation of Coche's to tend the less than 9 hectares of the family's vines. He, and now his son Raphael, care for their vineyards with reverence and rigor and in doing so produce vines of low yields and extremely high quality. In the cellar, long lees contact (to prevent oxidation) and high doses of new wood give Coche-Dury's wines their characteristic opulence, vibrance and acidity. Though most people would probably plan a meal carefully around the opening of such a rare bottle, at the time it seemed like the perfect, impromptu thing to do. We were blown away by the wine from the moment we looked at it. The wine had an stunning golden hue and striking nose of slate-like minerality and power. On the palate, the wine was equally as intense with notes of pear and apple, hints of hazelnut, exotic spices and incredibly racy acidity. We all loved the wine itself, but also the fact that we got to enjoy something so great in such a casual, unplanned manner, together.

For each year since, I've invited them back out to celebrate the Fourth with the promise of another bottle of Coche. We've drunk the 2005 Corton-Charlemagne, the 2004 Meursault-Perrieres and just this last holiday, the 2005 Meursault. Each of these wines has held their own against the others and has memorialized each summer celebration with its stunning deliciousness. I'm hoping that I can get my hands on another bottle before July of 2012 so that I can keep this annual tradition and my Fourth of July "re-do" alive.

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The Beaucastel Diaries

Not many people know this about me. But one of the things I love most in this world is going to a Laker Game. I can't get enough of the action and energy of watching the game live, with thousands of other people who seem to be as excited as I am. I jump at any opportunity to got to a game and think that my all time fantasy would to be to have season tickets...floor seats of course. Which is why, when one of my favorite winemakers, Chad Melville, emailed me the other day to see if I wanted join him and some his friends at the play-off game that night, I jumped at the chance. Not only would I be going to do the thing that I love, but I would get to hang out with Chad, someone who besides being really talented is sincerely so nice and fun to be with. Hell yes, I'm there!

Apparently though, I've been doing Staples Center the wrong way. Now, I'm the first person to say that I don't get out enough, which is why I had no idea that there is a restaurant at Staples or that there is a super exclusive club on the top floor called The Lexus Club. Maybe if I had season tickets I would know that. But more importantly, I never knew that Staples Center actually has a really deep cellar of wines, an insane array of legendary wines and libraries of vintages. Thankfully, Chad knew this so I was saved from staring at a sweating plastic tumbler of beer all night.

Well, for anyone who actually watched the second game of the playoffs against the Mavericks, it can be no surprise that being able to drink some incredible wines was a great diversion from the ugliness on the court. We began in the restaurant with a 2007 La Fenetre Pinot Noir and 2001 Kongsgaard Syrah, not a bad start, and which I have to say caught me a little off guard. It felt kind of strange drinking serious wine at a basketball game. Somehow I only relate the volume of noise, the flashing lights and general atmosphere of sporting events with drinking bad beer. However, I am a person who is not averse to change and was more than happy to attempt to alter my view of this. As one can imagine, it didn't take long for me to adjust. What we didn't finish of those wines we took back to the luxury suite with us in plastic cups, which was another odd concept to me. Most people were carrying tumblers of beer or coca cola, but we were carrying red wine...whatever works.

I have to say that by the second quarter when a bottle of 1999 Château de Beaucastel, Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe showed up, I found that drinking old and rare wine while watching the Lakers felt perfectly normal. Château de Beaucastel is a world renowned estate that has been in existence since the 16th century and has been in the possession of the Perrin family since the early 1900's. They were one of the first to farm their vineyards organically and make wines that are remarkably age-worthy. A good part of this is due to the fact that the final blend of the wine usually contains around 30% Mourvedre, giving the wine a strong tannic backbone, resistance to oxidation and good overall structure. Another approximately 30% Grenache adds a fleshiness and fruity depth, with Syrah, Muscardin, Vaccarese and Cinsault rounding out the blend. Year in and year out, these are wines of power and purity. The 1999 was no disappointment. Though much softened from age, the wine still showed a good deal of grace and balance. On the palate, flavors of coffee and sour plum mingled with notes of leather and dusty rose, giving the wine a slightly velvety texture and long finish accented by delicate acidity. The wine was incredibly elegant with an interesting balance of masculine muscularity and finessed femininity.

I've decided that from here on out I will approach Laker games, and any other sporting event at Staples Center, in a whole new way. Gone are the days of bitter, bulk beer. Gone are the days of appeasing my inner armchair althete while disappointing my wine-loving self. From now on, I will order a bottle off of the Staples wine list and be the one happily munching on popcorn, sipping my glass of older Burgundy and screaming at the refs. Readmore »»

When POTUS Came to Town

There is nothing quite as perfect to drink for a celebration than Champagne. And there have been few times in my life that were as worthy of celebration as Thursday, April 21, 2011.

Where do I begin? It's taken me a week to get this one out because I've just had the most whirlwind week of my life. I can honestly say that I'm still not quite over it and that just thinking about the whole experience and contemplating what to write down here is making my heart beat a little faster than normal. I know this may sound pretty melodramatic, but seriously, meeting the President of the United States, or POTUS as we insiders like to call him, is a big f-ing deal! This truly may have been one of the biggest thrills of my entire life. So just how am I supposed to condense this whole experience into just a few paragraphs?

In truth, I think this experience, or at least portions of it, are going to have to be spread out over more than one blog. So for now I've decided to focus here on the fact that after much contemplation, one of the main feelings that I have taken away from my "presidential week" is the sense of how people come in and out of your life and how they leave a lasting impression on you for future relationships and experiences. I say this because, besides the craziness and the feeling of euphoria that I experienced from meeting President Obama himself and just being in his elegant and charismatic presence, the thing that I think I miss the most about the experience is the people that I worked with all week to make the event at Tavern happen.

I met this cast of characters at what I thought was going to be an intimate meeting about the event last weekend. That is, until I pulled up in front of the restaurant and found that the building was awash in clean-cut men in dark suits with small gold pins on their lapels and dark sunglasses over their eyes. I actually began to laugh out loud at the sight of so much not so secret Secret Service. I mean, when one or two USSS agents are out together, they blend in to their surrounding and look like most other people on the street. But when there are fifteen or twenty of them together, well that's a different story. I should interject here that I have a deep love of the Secret Service. I have had only positive experiences with these men in the past, like when John Kerry ate at Lucques during his presidential run and when we catered a fundraiser for Mrs. Obama last year. Not only do they tend to be incredibly polite and nice people, but they make me feel incredibly safe because, let's face it, they are protectors and they've got to be willing to take a bullet. I feel about them like I do firemen: I'm always insanely impressed by their bravery and selflessness. And for some reason, they're all really good looking. But I digress...

I can only describe the people at this meeting as what one would expect to see at a casting call for a film about Washington DC. Among others, there was the tall, eloquent logistics guy, the twenty or so suit-clad Secret Service men, the various casually dressed and sharply tuned-in men and women who work with the President, and my favorite of all, the White House aide who was sporting a tidy suit and thick horn-rimmed glasses. This would end up being a group of people that I would spend my entire week with and in the end, become pretty attached to. They would come to symbolize to me the experience as a whole and as a result, be the thing that I miss the most about the whole adventure.

And let me tell you, this week was quite a ride. The amount of coordination and logistics involved in having the leader of the free world in my place of business, for what would be a total of one and a half hours, was mind boggling. Communications people ran phone lines. Security people inspected the building. Dogs sniffed for bombs. Military and medical personnel came through. I think that I had contact with every form of law enforcement known to man. I literally have a business card with a badge on it in every pocket of every item of clothing I wore last week. (I'm thinking that I should hold on to each one of them, of course, just in case I get into a bind somewhere down the line.) The whole week was pretty intense and each of these interactions seemed to add to the tension.

Throughout it all, I spent a good amount of time with my White House pal Mike and my super cute Secret Service Agent Matt. They were my main contacts and would be the people that I would turn to for help, guidance and the occasional call of distress. I came to look forward to all of our daily conversations, emails and planning sessions. I loved seeing them become more and more L.A. in their dress and manner as the week progressed. And like anyone that you work closely with, we all got to learn a bit about each other over the course of the week. Not only were they consummate professionals, but they were pretty fun to be around. I really felt by the end that I had formed a friendship with these guys.

Not only did I bond with my new-found friends from Washington, but working on something so intense and so special brought me and my Tavern staff even closer together as well. Each day, I and the managers who were "in the know" would find ourselves looking at each other with wide-eyed amazement at the full-throttle security coordination happening around us. I can't count the number of times we said to ourselves, "This is insane!" On the night of the actual event, every member of the staff was beaming with excitement and anticipation. Every one of them deeply felt the importance of this night. At one point before the dinner began, I and my service staff had an inspirational huddle in the dining room where we spoke words of encouragement and gave ourselves and an uplifting group hug. This was our Superbowl and surviving it made us all closer for it.

And like any other major event that takes hours of work, preparation and planning, like a wedding, bar mitzvah or other special occasion, the day went by in the blink of an eye. The dinner itself went off without a hitch and when it was over, I nearly passed out from exhaustion.

Of course, I made sure that we toasted with some super cold and delicious 2000 Champagne Dom Perignon. I know that I'm always the proponent of the small, grower-producers in Champagne, but I have to say that I'm a sucker for Dom Perignon. Dom is always incredibly finessed and elegant, and for me is the ultimate wine for a celebration. You've got to give props to the monk that created it all, and besides that label just says "party" all over it. So, after popping those beautiful corks and raising a glass to our beloved staff, we proposed a toast to the Secret Service and to Mike from the White house. We couldn't have done it without them and we truly miss them already. Readmore »»

The Wonder Years

Looking back on my formative wine drinking years, I can see that having wine be a part of my everyday life was inevitable. Now, this can sound like a pretty nutty thing to say, particularly in light of the fact that it sounds like I'm saying that I drink every day...not that there's anything wrong with that. I don't actually drink everyday, but I can say that I've always been a bit "old for my years" when it comes to wine appreciation, at least in my younger days.

My business partner and I laugh because when she was young, she had an early love of the culinary arts and often played the role of chef at her parents' dinner parties, cooking for their guests herself while her parents entertained. At my home, I played the role of wine steward and service captain. I would set the table, open the bottles of Bordeaux and pour wine for her guests throughout dinner. I just loved pulling out all of the pieces of silverware from their special cloth covers, folding the linen napkins just so and especially pulling the corks from those mysterious bottles with the incomprehensible French writing all over them. Funny that Suzanne and I still get such pleasure from doing these things today.

My wine adolescence happened during college. I'm not saying that I didn't consume my share of white zinfandel and wine coolers in my four years at university, because believe me, Bartles & James were my good friends. But once I was able to move beyond the sugar-laden sweet wines, I ended up cutting my wine drinking teeth on more complex and satisfying, chewy red wines. I have particular memories of being in my early twenties, dining out with my long-time boyfriend and ordering bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe. We loved the dark, hearty and slight smokiness of the wines of that region and particularly loved the rustic qualities of the labels and the bottles themselves with the emblem of the region molded into the glass. He was a Spaniard who loved hearty, spicy food and Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe seemed to be the perfect counter to that. Call me a pushover, but I enjoyed eating and drinking what he did, and in this case it was clearly a good thing.

It was only a few years later that I discovered my first bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe blanc while on vacation with a new boyfriend in the South of France. And this is where I really fell...for the wine and the guy. I can closely describe my feelings towards white Rhone wines, and white Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe in particular, as the wine love of my life. This, my friends, is a love I've never gotten over. To this day, I feel a particular excitement when I get the opportunity to taste a white Châteauneuf. I feel myself start to get slightly giddy, like a child at the door to an ice cream truck, at the sight of that golden liquid being poured into a wine glass. This happened just the other day, when one of my favorite "wine guys" Jerome showed up with with a bottle of the 2009 Clos Saint Jean. I literally saw the words Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe and started to drool just a little bit.

Clos St. Jean, located in the famed Le Crau lieu-dit, is a family owned estate that was founded in 19o0 and has been making wine generation though generation. In 1991 brothers Pascal and Vincent Maurel took over the estate when their father died and hired on Philippe Gambie, one of the greatest oenologists in Châteauneuf, to consult. Their vineyard practices encourage natural methods, low yields and an overall respect for the environment. This relatively younger generation is working to create wines of excellence, which makes sense since their vines are some of the best situated in all of the region. Like all of the newer generations to be taking over family estates, they are trying to make their mark and to focus on quality over quantity. So far so good.

I could tell the minute I saw it in the glass that this was my kind of wine, dark golden color and sparklingly bright. It's made from a blend of equal parts Roussanne, Clairette and Grenache Blanc and is the essence of refinement. The nose shows delicate honeyed aromatics that continue on to the palate where they mix with fleshy rose, honeysuckle and unripe peach notes. Beyond even the palate, the texture of this wine really blew me away with its rich, oiliness and bright acidity. It was the perfect balance of soft and firm, lush and lean, fleshy and structured. The wine was partially aged in new oak barrels, giving the wine a rounded, slightly new world feel...but not in a bad way.

And like those old bottles of red that my boyfriend I loved to drink, this wine has a label that is unforgettable. On it is a portrait of a saint with a gilt halo that appears to be taken from a 16th or 17th century painting. Reflective of the the wine itself, the combination of the image and clean, contemporary text on the package is a study in opposites; old with new, classic with modern, history with present day. This seems very much in keeping with what the new generation in the winery is trying to achieve. It also reminds me of my wine past and my wine present, reflecting where I once was and where I am now. Readmore »»

A Rosé By Any Other Color

I decided to try out an experiment to test a theory that I'd had. The theory surrounds a study that showed that people who consumed 14 glasses of wine per week were 60% less likely to contract a cold than other non-wine drinkers. One can see how I would find this to be an "au courant" investigation as we in Los Angeles are right in the midst of flu season and everyone around me seems to be dropping like flies. I myself have been teetering on the brink, so I started wondering if drinking a glass of wine or two could actually cure a cold. Many of my friends in the Latino community swear by the shot of tequila cure, but for a wine lover such as myself, I'd much rather drink a glass of fermented grapes, especially if I can find a good excuse to do so.

This all started as I began to feel the tell tale signs that I was coming down with something. I'm one of those people who just always seems to get sick. I swear I'm not a hypochondriac. The problem lies in the fact that I have two school-aged children who bring home every communicable disease known to man and I work in a business in which I shake many many hands every night. And although I wash my hands constantly and carry Purell, I still get sick all of the time. I've tried various methods for curing my various viruses including Oscillococcinum (do those little white balls of sugar really do anything?), Tamiflu (very expensive), feeding my cold (not great for my rear end), starving my cold (hard to do, but I felt really thin for a few days there), loading up on vitamin C (got tired of swallowing those horse pills), sweating it out (got thin again) and Theraflu (fell asleep at work!). This time I'm just ignoring my symptoms and working through it, which is not really doing anything to relieve my cruddy condition, though I do feel like quite the trooper. In my desperation to find a way to feel better, I decided to do one last search for a cure, which is how in my Google-based due diligence I came upon the delicious fact about wine drinking and cold avoidance. Immediately a light bulb went on in my head....maybe I can drink my way out of this illness!

I immediately went to my newly-dubbed "medicine cabinet" to find the appropriate bottle of wine to test out my theory. Within a few minutes I came upon a wine that I've been meaning to taste for a while now, the 2009 Scholium Project Rhododactylos, Phillips Farms, a wine that an employee at Tavern gave me after she worked with the winemaker during harvest and bottling. What struck me immediately about this wine was that I had assumed by its color that it was a white wine, until I actually read the label to discover it was rosé. I suppose that this wouldn't be strange for the Scholium Project as they are known for making wines that are fairly unusual.

It turns out that they actually made this wine by accident, an example of the curious things that happen when we try to control nature. The mistake happened in 2008 when they initially planned to make a deep dark red from 150 year-old dry farmed Cinsault, an utterly unheard of find from Phillips Farms in Lodi. But instead of yielding the anticipated small, dark berries from the vines, they got large, round, light colored grapes much like table grapes but with a muscat-like fragrance. They bled the juice off and fermented it into a rich and delicious white, or more accurately, light pink. They loved it so much that they decided to recreate it in 2009. This time they gently whole-cluster pressed it, fermented it in stainless steel and aged it in old white wine barrels. And though they say the wine was initially pink, it eventually lost it's color and became quite a serious golden color, somewhere between rose gold and 24 karat.

The wine showed aromas of roses, honey and allspice, all of which I was somehow able to detect through my runny nose. This honey intensified on the palate, resulting in a wine that drank much more like a mature white than any rosé I've ever had. It was rich with ripe stone fruit, exotic spices and incredible weight and texture, not unlike white wine from the Northern Rhône Valley. Although the wine was an unexpected rosé surprise, I would expect no less from The Scholium Project whose wines are always incredibly layered, intense and complex. They make the kinds of wines that are not only interesting to taste, but are also a pleasure to drink.

I enjoyed this wine over a couple of nights and though it didn't do anything obvious to help my cold, it certainly made me relax about my illness. This may be the same effect that tequila provides in a smaller, more potent dose. I've decided to make myself an experimental guinea pig and keep testing this theory in hope of finding a wine cure. I figure that it's the least I can do for the medical community.

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Catalonia, Take Me Away!

I know things are getting rough when I start desperately pining for my June vacation in January. I think that this actually happens every year as I hear myself saying how badly I need a break while looking longingly at the calendar and the many months between now and then. When these days of rest in a far away place are truly so far away, I often find myself trying very hard to imagine what I would be doing on said trip, and I attempt to recreate it at home as a form of fantasy escapism...a pre-trip cultural immersion, if you will. This way, I can trick myself into thinking that I'm just a little closer to where I'd rather be.

At this very moment, I find myself in the post-holiday moment of getting back to normal life. Of course, normal is a relative term in the restaurant world, since there is never really a time one can call business as usual. Each day at work literally brings a new crisis, a new drama, a new adventure. It could be the ever-glamorous plumbing problem, the overly intoxicated and therefore irrational guest or the random computer crash that can set my mind desperately searching for escape. So today, right as the local neighborhood crazy woman attempts to steal one of our water glasses and then proceeds to punch our bartender in the stomach, I feel my mind wander off to the mountains and villages of Spain, my family's summer destination. I imagine myself walking down a cobblestone street or dining in a charming sidewalk cafe. Of course, this dreamy moment in my mind also includes a glass of wine. In fact, one of the first things I usually think about when it comes to travel, is what wine I will be drinking on my trip. Whereas most normal people think about the sights and the adventure, I think about the wine.

This happens to be the perfect moment to be wondering off to Spain for me because I'm in the middle of an all-out Spanish wine obsession. I just can't seem to get enough of those yummy white Riojas and earthy, concentrated wines of the Priorat. So it seems fairly appropriate that after dealing with yet another not so normal moment, I eagerly reached for a glass of 2005 El Castro de Valtuille Bierzo Joven, a recent addition to the Tavern wine list. This is a wine made from 100% Mencia that is so delicious, I can't seem to stop drinking it.

Mencia is sort of an underdog variety, one that's gotten less attention than the more well-known Spanish grapes Garnacha and Tempranillo. Though Mencia is grown in a few different regions in spain, Bierzo is without a doubt the most famous. Castro Ventosa, maker of Valtuille, is owned by the Perez family of who have been farming 75 hectares of old vine Mencia since 1752. This is one of the top producers in the area and although this wine is called "joven" or young vines, these plants actually range from 20 to 40 years-old. I love anyone or anything that considers 40 years-old young!

The wine's nose shows intriguing black fruit notes of amarena cherries, cassis and black raspberry along side a delicate brininess that I often associate with Spanish reds. On the palate, the dark berry notes continue along side touches of anise, black tea and tarragon. It has a silky texture with firm tannins and a general softness that makes it a pretty easy-drinking, yet complex wine.

When I close my eyes, breathe in the aromas in the glass and finally take a sip of this wine, I am literally transported to Madrid, to a place where business comes to a civilized halt in the middle of the day and where long, lazy dinners last until late in the night. My body instantly relaxes and the tension just seems to melt away. It's enough to help me deal, if only for a few minutes, with the craziness that is my reality. If only June wasn't so far away.

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Really, It's Not the Wine. It's Me.

I just got back from a few lazy days in Phoenix. My business partner and I took our staff from AOC on an out of town retreat to Pizzeria Bianco, one of our all-time favorite restaurants. Pizzeria Bianco, for those who don't know, is a legendary pizzeria housed in an adorable old-time brick building that has won a James Beard award for its food and has such a devoted following that people often wait for up to three hours (no exaggeration) for a table. Part of the attraction to this place, besides the insanely delicious pizza, is its owner Chris Bianco who is not only incredibly talented, but is also quite a character. He's sort of a combination of Bobcat Goldthwait and Bruce Willis, with a head of wildly curly dark hair, baby face and raspy voice. He's one of those charming genius types who can ramble on about this or that culinary idea or inspiration with sincere excitement and child-like enthusiasm. He is amazingly self-deprecating and though he looks kind of tough, is actually a sweet and gentle person. We had an incredibly fun night there with our staff and ate and laughed our heads off. It was one of those nights that just passed by too quickly.

Of course, Suzanne and I both saw this retreat as an opportunity to spend a coupe of extra days in Phoenix with our husbands at the Sanctuary, the perfect zen spa/hotel for relaxing and doing nothing aside from reading, sleeping and getting pampered. And let me tell you, "doing nothing" is pretty much all you can do when Phoenix gets so cold that it actually snows! We did nothing...which took some getting used to. You see, my husband and I are such constantly moving city peeps that we have a hard time wrapping our heads around the idea of actually not doing anything. The first day of any vacation, we look at each other and say, "Well, what should we do now?" and talk about how we should probably go back home. We always feel like we should be accomplishing something, fixing something, making something, going somewhere. It's not until half way through the second day of any trip that we grasp the concept of chilling out and finally just go with the idea of inactivity.

It was on this second day of our trip, after a day of just lying around that we went out with Suzanne and her husband to listen to jazz at a place called Kazimierz World Wine Bar. Kazimierz is a dark and moody joint (and I mean that in the best sense of the word) that feels a little bit like a speakeasy and is owned by Peter Kasperski, probably the best wine buyer in all of Arizona. Peter's got a ton of personality, as do his wine lists which are loaded with anecdotes and winemaker profiles, making it about a mile long and something that one could curl up with and read by the fire. The list is so big that it made me wonder how many people can possibly come into that place to support such a huge investment in wine. This list truly rivals many of those in the finest restaurants in the world, but in a far more casual, down and dirty setting.

Because of what I do for a living, it's usually left up to me to choose the wine for the table, understandably. It's just like at dinner when we all looked to Suzanne and her husband to tell us what we should eat. But I have to say that this task of selecting the wine feels like an enormous amount of pressure. It is not an exaggeration for me to say that I feel as though a poor choice is a sign of personal failure on my part. Thus, the selection process is a long and arduous one, usually provoking glares of, "come on, we're thirsty here!" from those at the table. I am also a bit obsessive compulsive. Combine this with the length of the list at Kazimierz, and I had a recipe for disaster on my hands. I was trying hard not to cave in to the pressure I was feeling and yet I was paralyzed by the selection. (I have to interject here to say that even though this feeling of anxiety never leaves me, I am normally quite successful in the wine selection thing.) That is, until this moment when I did a spectacular job of picking what I thought was one of the worst wines I've ever tasted. I chose a 2006 Côtes du Rhône from a producer (who shall remain nameless) that I normally like quite a bit, but it was so intense, dark and funky that I literally couldn't drink a sip of it. My friends at the table were kind enough to drink the stuff, I think as a way of making me feel a little better.

I wasn't sure what had gone wrong with this wine. Was it tainted? Did it have bret? Was it just not my style? Was it the vintage? Or. maybe it was just me, something that wouldn't have been unusual since wine is such a subjective thing. I decided to do a comparison and taste a 2006 Côtes du Rhône that I just happened to have at home to see how it was holding up. The wine was a 2006 Catherine le Goeuil, Côtes du Rhône, Cairanne, Cuvée Léa Felsch that I bought from Kermit Lynch Wine Merchants. And although the first sip was a bit tight, I am happy to say that the wine restored my faith in myself and the vintage. Catherine le Goeuil makes a blend of Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre, Cinsault and Carignan from a 14 hectare vineyard in the village of Cairanne. She has been farming the vineyard organically since 1993 and makes only this one red wine from the property.

After the initial sip, the wine opened up fairly quickly to reveal a nose of soft, cooked plum and dark berry notes with touches of dark green herbs and the very slightest hint of vanilla. On the palate, layers of tobacco and smoky game meat intermingled with dark fruit notes and delicate hints of cedar spice. Although dominated by dark fruit notes, the wine maintained a decent amount of acidity resulting in a feeling of freshness and youth. It was actually the perfect wine to drink with the pork and cavolo nero I made last night as the dark earthiness of the kale was the perfect partner for the wine's herbal component. I liked this wine so much that I'm inspired to buy some more of it to keep on hand for more cold weather meals.

I'm sure it seems pretty comical to hear that I have a hard time ordering wine in a restaurant, at least one that is not my own. And in the end, not loving that particular bottle of wine wasn't really the end of the world. I don't have to have a "relationship" with each bottle of wine I order. Besides, everybody else at the table was totally fine with it, so maybe it really was just me.

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The Most Wine-derful Time of the Year

It's amazing how stressed out a working mother can become as the end of December approaches. This is supposed to be a joyous and festive time of year, but for me it inevitably ends up being a time of mood swings and migraines. This fact always catches me by surprise because I have the most wonderful childhood memories of Christmas.

By the way, I should mention here that I come from a long line of "bad" Jews who celebrate Christmas each year, complete with a tree, lights, candy canes and stockings hanging from the mantle. My mother took the whole ritual of the holidays very seriously, and seemed to enjoy it immensely. Each year she would pick a different "style" for the tree's decor - one year it was all plaid with giant tartan bows, another year it was all silver ornaments, and so on. (She was one of those people who redecorated the entire house every other year.) She loaded the tree up with gifts and filled our stockings until they were overflowing. Every year she made the same breakfast of cheese eggs, toast and bacon -- again, "bad" Jews -- and literally played Christmas music while we unwrapped our gifts. I try to recreate this experience every year in my own home, much to the chagrin of my more religiously observant husband, and look forward to Christmas morning with as much anticipation as I did when I was a child. As a matter of fact, I'm eating a candy cane at this very moment.

The lead-up to December 25th, however is the part that can be rough. I actually started feeling it today, as my daughter and I set out to purchase some gifts for her friends. I don't know if it was the two clueless sales girls at the clothing store that set my mood off, or if it was the traffic that we fought to get across town only to purchase one measly gift, but I started to lose it. I think it's because I started to feel, as I always do at the holidays, that I am taking part in an un-winnable race, a steeple-chase complete with obstacles (traffic), challenges (what on earth do I buy for my sister who has everything), incredible distances to cover (the endless gift list) and that inevitable post-race muscle pain (the January credit card bill). I'm usually the one who decorates the tree, buys all of the gifts and cooks Christmas dinner, adding to the gauntlet that is my usual month of December. I started to feel that dreadful fear that I may not actually be able to finish the race this year, especially since I haven't even warmed up yet.

Much of this comes down to the fact that I spend many many hours at work and thus have very little leeway in terms of finding time to take care of these holiday chores. No matter how early I start my gift buying, I always end up duking it out on Christmas Eve with the rest of the shopping crowds. I end up spending way too much because I start grabbing one of every item that I see in order to avoid forgetting someone. I also carry a tremendous amount of pressure and guilt -- again, I'm a Jew -- about how much time I spend away from my children and subconsciously feel like I will make up for all of it on the morning of Christ's birthday.

So, as I felt that familiar feeling set in, and as my son in the back seat of the car screamed about not waiting one more minute to get our Christmas tree, I decided to retreat to my "happy place." My happy place is where I mentally transport myself in times of trouble. For instance, when on an airplane experiencing heavy turbulence, I close my eyes an imagine myself at my home, snuggled up under the covers with my son listening to him breathe while he sleeps. I say over and over to myself, "I'm in my happy place. I'm in my happy place." Somehow this gets me through without completely losing it in front of hundreds of people. I decided to take inspiration for my happy place on this irritating Saturday, two weeks to the day from Christmas, in my dreamy imaginary holiday moment, one in which I am sitting on my sofa in front of the fire, glass of wine in hand while the children decorate the tree. As I looked at my kids in the rear view mirror I came to slowly realize that my happy place may not be so far away after all.

I immediately turned the car around and drove over the Christmas tree lot down the street from my house, the one where the trees are a touch more expensive, but they are delivered to your home within one hour. My overjoyed son ran up and down the aisles of Noble Firs while my daughter and I looked for the perfect tree. I've brainwashed my little girl over the last thirteen years to look for the exact type of tree that I like: the super model of trees, slender, elegant and very tall. We found our green version of Kate Moss, paid for the beautiful yet doomed tree and headed for home. I decided when we got home to do what I have never done before, and allow the kids to decorate the whole tree themselves. Normally, I would fuss over it myself in an obsessive compulsive manner, quashing their creativity to satisfy my own need for order. This year, I decided to allow myself to just sit back and watch, and to allow them to experience the fun part, the part that I used to look forward to.

To help me in my quest for pre-Christmas relaxation, I opened a bottle of 2007 Jorian Hill "Beespoke" Grenache/Syrah blend. In my mind, this hearty red is one of the most perfect wines for this time of year. Jorian Hill is a small family-owned winery in the cool climate area known as Ballard Canyon in the Santa Ynez Valley. Their winemaking and viticulture team of Mark Crawford Horvath, Kenneth Gummere and Jeff Frey focuses on organic farming, low yields and small lot fermentations to create wines that are at once rich and elegant. This wine is striking from the start with its aromas of black olive, tar and raspberry. It has a seriousness and muscularity that comes through well before even tasting. On the palate, the wine shows an interesting balance of qualities from both the Syrah and the Grenache. It has a meatiness and dark intensity that is balanced by nuances of red fruits and spices. It has strength and grip while also being soft and fleshy. I figured that its dark brooding character and comforting fruitiness was probably the perfect match for my mood and situation.

As I sat and listened to the kids laughing and enjoying themselves while decorating the tree, I was able to bring myself back from the dark depths of holiday irritation and appreciate this time of year again. They placed each glass ball and silver bell where ever they saw fit and I didn't interfere or offer my opinion. Now, I'm not sure if I drank too much wine or if I was just overwhelmed by the fact that I didn't have to lift a finger, but I knew then and there that I had never seen a better looking Christmas tree.

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Thanks For Giving

It has been quite a long time since I've written anything here and I am loaded down with a tremendous amount of guilt and hesitation. I realize that by blogging, I am cultivating a friendship with those who are my followers. And like every other important personal relationship, one has to devote a good amount of time and attention to it lest it whither away and die. Now, my lack of blogging in the last couple of months is not due to a lack of interest or love. I haven't stopped caring. I was just basically overwhelmed with working on Suzanne and my LA Loves Alex's Lemonade fundraiser, and with preparing for the restaurants and myself for the holidays. I just did not have any time left in my day to focus on this particular relationship. Of course, after such a long time away, I find myself consumed with the inevitable self-questioning that further exacerbates getting back on track: "Has it been too long? Will they even want to hear from me? Do they even care?" Either way, I've decided to "pick up the phone" and re-initiate contact. Hopefully the friendship is not over.

To aid in this, I actually found that Thanksgiving gave me a reason to blog again. You see, I'm one of the lucky few in the restaurant business who get to take the last Thursday of November off to eat turkey with the relatives. And the perk for having twenty people over for dinner is the occasional hostess gift in the form of a bottle of wine that can come my way, something that I obviously greatly appreciate. A friend of the family brought me a bottle of 2008 Lioco, Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir. This is clearly someone who knows my palate and penchant for delicate Pinot. I've been a longtime supporter of Lioco and because of this, I waited to open the bottle thinking that as I've had the wine before, there was no need to rush. In the end I didn't wait all that long, since I opened it up the very next day to drink along side my plate of turkey and stuffing leftovers. It was the perfect choice.

Lioco was started by Kevin O'Connor, the former sommelier at Spago and his friend Matt Licklider, a former LA import wine salesperson as a pursuit to create well-made wines that speak of their location. So often, people perceive California as a place of fruity, juicy wines that lack a specific regional expression. These guys have proved that idea as false with their series of elegant single vineyard, single AVA whites and reds. As lovers of old world winemaking, they take inspiration from traditional European methods, seeking out vineyard sites that make the vines work harder to survive, thereby producing higher quality fruit. They focus on using little or no oak in the aging process, fermenting naturally and over-delivering in terms of the wine and its price point.

This wine exemplifies everything I love in Pinot Noir with its tart red fruit notes, bright acidity, earthiness and the fact that this wine literally speaks of the holidays. On the nose, cranberry and cinnamon notes mix with touches of cassis, raspberry and candied yam. The palate manages to be lean and slightly fleshy all at once with red plum fruitiness, ginger and cardamom spice, orange peel and long finish laden with bacon fat. It's a wine that clearly represents its Sonoma Coast location with its cold climate and coastal proximity, resulting in Pinot Noir that tastes like Pinot, rather than some suped-up, Syrah imitator. It would have been the perfect pairing for my Thanksgiving turkey, especially since I follow my family's tradition of covering the top of the bird with bacon and basting it with butter. What better to cut the fat and marry with the bacon than this earthy, spicy wine.

I'm always in a quandary as to whether to immediately open a bottle of wine that a guest brings to dinner and drink it on the spot, or if I should save it for a later date. I never want to insult my guests by not drinking the wine with them, or by acting as though their selection isn't special enough to save for an important occasion. Fortunately, I was so distracted by the crazy family gathering taking place in my living room that I didn't even have time to think about what to do. This would definitely have been a great wine to drink with dinner that night, but I'm really happy that I saved it for the day after. That way, I didn't have to share a drop with all of those people.

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State of Grace

I have to say that my meeting with Angela Osborne was one of the more unusual interactions I've had. One day during lunch service at Lucques, this young woman approached me and asked me if she could shake my hand. Hmmm. I don't know if I've ever been asked that particular question before. Can I shake your hand....of course. Most people don't actually ask, so please go ahead.

After getting through that odd moment, Angela got to the gist of her visit. She is a winemaker, originally from New Zealand who came out to California to work with her favorite grape variety, Grenache. Angela said that she had considered the major Grenache producing regions of the world, Spain, Southern France, Australia and California and eventually settled on the latter. She was hired on as assistant winemaker at Lioco under Kevin Kelly and thus began her California career. She wanted me to taste her new release, A Tribute to Grace, from the Santa Barbara Highlands Vineyard of Santa Barbara County.

I was honestly a bit worried about tasting her Grenache, particularly right in front of her because I'm not normally a big fan of the variety, especially from California. I find most Grenache made here to be too concentrated, juicy and rich for my palate. I was also dreading tasting the wine with a winemaker that I didn't really know for fear of not liking the wine. It makes me feel terrible when I'm in that position because I don't like disappointing people and I usually end up doing the polite/impolite thing of lying about my love of the wine then never ordering it.

The moment I saw the wine in the glass though, my interest was piqued. Rather than being a deep dark purple, the wine is the color of translucent ruby red, so faint in fact that it could be mistaken for a light Pinot or dark rosé. On the nose, high-toned cherry notes mix with elements of cinnamon and un-blossomed roses, resulting in an exotic, spice market aroma. On the palate, Grace is bright and fleshy in an elegant, feminine way, blending fresh and cooked red fruit notes, with cinnamon and clove spices and vivid acidity. It has hints of floral perfume and touches of savory herbs with a medium body, velvet-like texture and long finish. Even before I put the glass to my lips, I was reminded of Chateau Rayas Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe, another Grenache that goes against type, and that like this wine, drinks more like Pinot Noir than anything else. For me, this is a good thing.

Angela makes a tiny amount of this, less than 200 cases, and numbers each bottle individually. She named it after her grandmother who has been a source of inspiration and strength to her. To say that this wine embodies the idea of grace with its elegance, balance and finesse is an understatement. Angela herself seems to follow in the same mold with her delicate personality, wispy long hair and soft demeanor. I immediately bought a case for myself as well as one for the restaurant, both of which seem to be disappearing quicker than I expected. Everyone who I've introduced the wine to has fallen in love with it and come back for more. This is a wine that I will keep on my list at Lucques for as long as it is available, because I wholeheartedly believe that we all could us a little more grace in our lives.

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Blinded By the Light

If there is one thing in the realm of wine that I have always been completely scared of, it

is blind tasting. Nothing makes me feel like more of a vulnerable loser than having to identify a wine's variety, region and vintage from taste alone. I think it's because deep down I'm afraid of looking like I don't really know what I'm doing and in the end, coming off like a complete fraud. You see, blind tasting is a learned skill, one that takes many hours of practice, trial and error. Some of my colleagues do this on a daily basis. I do not. In the world of palate fitness, this is one type of training that I just don't do and like any unpracticed, untrained athlete, I'm pretty out of shape.

So, when Bonnie Graves, a Los Angeles wine gal contacted me to join a men vs. women blind tasting panel at the Taste of Beverly Hills event last weekend, I immediately told her that there was no way in hell that I would do it. The other people on the panel were going to be individuals who I completely respect and who get loads of practice tasting blind. I told her that I would provide a personally embarrassing amount of comic relief and would basically end up looking like a complete idiot. Of course, after about seven emails and even a personal visit at Lucques, Bonnie managed to persuade me to do it with promises of a fun, light-hearted event, a potential bottle of Krug for the winning team and loads of p.r. for the restaurant. And, like any savvy business person, I caved at the prospect of good dose of public relations for the restaurants, even at my own expense. Needless to say that from the minute I accepted her offer, I regretted it like crazy.

With only a week to go before the event and determined not to enter this challenge totally unprepared, I enlisted some of the staff members at the restaurants to indulge me in a few rounds of "let's see if Caroline can get this one" throughout the week. My employees were all to happy to indulge me, a fact that I actually found slightly unnerving. Richard, our new Lucques manager lined up five whites and five reds for me to taste on the first day, five of which stumped me and five of which I actually got right. As I had truly expected to get them all wrong, I felt a wave of confidence roll over me. In the back of my head, I heard a voice say, "Hmm, maybe I'm not so bad at this after all." Richard lined up eight more wines for me the next day, only three of which I pegged correctly. My batting average was going down...not good.

The next day, I asked Amy Christine, a good friend and Master of Wine candidate to come to my house for a tutorial. Amy literally blind tastes wine every morning in practice for the tasting portion of her exam. She's got so much experience in this, I figured that there was no one better to work with me. Her husband Peter filled seven or eight small bottles with a selection of white and red wines and packed them up for her so that not even Amy would know what they were. We went through each one, meticulously analyzing their colors, aromas and flavors. We discussed each in detail and came close to the same conclusion on all of them. We were wrong six out of eight times. In Amy's defense though, I think that it was my overly anxious self that led her down the path of failure that day. But really, how on earth did that Gruner Veltliner taste so much like white Burgundy?

With the days flying by and my newfound confidence waning, I headed to Tavern and a fresh group of wines by the glass to blind taste through. I told John our bartender to just hand me wines throughout the night to keep me on my toes. One after the other, small tastes were handed over the bar to me at moments that I least expected them. Let's just say that it wasn't my night, or maybe that I was just caught off guard, as one by one I failed to identify any of them but one. Since when does Bandol Blanc taste like California Sauvignon Blanc? Zinfandel that tastes like Meritage? After another round of low scoring, I was beginning to consider a last minute family emergency scenario to get me out of this predicament.

Now, to give me just a little but of credit, what I was experiencing here was an example of what happens when the international wine community strives to market themselves to the global population. Many of the world's great wines start to taste similar and regions and grape varieties lose their individuality. I play a role in this as well. I don't love a lot of the Zinfandels that are on the market right now, so I tend to buy the ones that are more restrained and subtle. The result is that the Zinfandel that I pour by the glass doesn't necessarily taste like Zinfandel. All of this is fine and well, until I need to blind taste it. Clearly, I've been doing myself a disservice here.

On the morning of the event, I awoke with a butterflies in my stomach, knowing that I was inching minute by minute closer to my fate as the laughing stock of the wine event. I figured that I was just going to have to just go for it and laugh it all off in good fun. Each team of four was given the same four wines to blind taste, so that a man and a woman would have to face off on each. I decided to rip this thing off like a band aid and volunteer for the first wine. To be honest, from the moment I smelled it I knew it was Sauvignon Blanc, so I knew I would be safe. I described in detail the notes of guava, passion fruit and grapefruit on the nose and the touches of deep meyer lemon-like citrus. The wine had bright acidity and tart freshness as well as a slight hint of green grassy herbs. I confidently identified the variety as Sauvignon Blanc, the region as Loire and the vintage as 2008. My male counterpart agreed wholeheartedly. The reveal: 2009 Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand! Of course, grapefruit and guava equals New Zealand. Urgh. Oh well, I earned the team one point. Could have been worse.

After three rounds of misidentifications from almost all of the members of the panel, and with a particularly embarrassing reveal of the 2009 Charles Shaw Merlot, I was starting to feel slightly better about myself. It was actually incredibly funny to see all of us flailing around in our search for the answers. We were basically all in the same boat. None of us was doing well and none of us cared. I think that our lightheartedness at being wrong was the most entertaining part of the whole thing.

In the end, we ladies redeemed ourselves with a totally right-on identification of a 2006 Rioja Reserva and won the match. We left the event holding our heads a little higher while laughing at ourselves a little louder. It was reassuring to know that we were all in the same boat, putting ourselves out on the line and having a ball. I'm now determined to blind taste at least once per week to hone my new-found skills, and to accept that I may not have all of the answers, but at least I'll have a good time trying to find them.

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A Habit I Clearly Can't Kick

Jeff Fischer is really on a roll. A few months back, he brought me a sample of a wine that he made, a Sauvignon Blanc called Habit, that he produced under the tutelage of California winemaker Doug Margerum. He's always had an intense love of food and wine and decided to follow his heart and dabble in the world of wine making. I loved that first wine the moment I tasted it, and clearly so did everyone else. You see, Jeff managed, on his own, to place that wine at some pretty impressive restaurants around the country, purchased by some of America's top sommeliers. This is a pretty amazing feat when one considers how hard it is to even get some of these people on the phone, much less taste and buy a wine from a newcomer to the business. In fact, when I called him to reorder a case for Tavern, he told me that he sold out of that charter vintage in a matter of months. As someone who has dabbled in wine making, I've gotta say that I'm a bit jealous.

Following up from that first wine, Jeff has just bottled his red, a Bordeaux blend under the same Habit label. This wine is a blend of 30% Cabernet Franc, 32.5% Merlot, 20% Cabernet Sauvignon, 12.5% Petit Verdot and 5% Malbec. The grapes for this wine are from the fairly new Happy Canyon AVA in Santa Ynez, which has a slightly warmer climate than other Central Coast areas, resulting in riper, richer fruit. It is precisely this warmer weather that separates Happy Canyon, the smallest AVA in California, from the neighboring Santa Barbara and Santa Rita Hills. Unlike these regions in which Pinot and Chardonnay thrive, Happy Canyon is the perfect place for these Bordeaux grapes, as well as Syrah and other Rhone varieties that really need the heat to reach their fullest potential.

I must say that I think he has another hit on his hands with this one. The wine is fleshy, rich and layered with a fine tannin structure and velvety texture. It has a classic elements of a meritage blend: iron-rich structure of Cabernet, the softening effect of Merlot, the complex earthiness of Cab Franc and the density of Petit Verdot. (Of course, I happen to be what I call a cabfrancophile, so the high percentage of Cab Franc in the mix makes me happy.) The thing that seems push this wine beyond though, is that small touch of Malbec in the blend that gives the wine a Mexican coffee like spiciness and exotic touch. It also surprisingly bright, a quality that sets this wine apart from those of the Napa Valley. Possibly the close proximity of Happy Canyon to the ocean allows for the wine to retain a certain level of acidity and acquire a unique maritime character.

Jeff hasn't yet figured out the pricing of this wine, not surprising since he literally just bottled it a week ago. I do know that he is focused on keeping the cost reasonable, a wonderful thing considering his relatively small production. He's created a true boutique project with very hands-on winemaking technique and time consuming attention to detail. In short, this wine is a crazy value.

I'm looking forward to the wine being released and getting it on my wine lists asap. I know I'm going to have a hard time keeping it in stock myself. In fact, that's the problem with this wine...there's just not enough of it to go around.

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Brdas of a Feather

It can't be easy being a wine rep. I can't say that I've ever done the job, so I don't know this for sure. But if dealing with me is any example, then this has got to be a job filled with uphill battles. Don't get me wrong, I don't think that I'm a difficult person, or that I'm horrible to deal with one on one. I just have quite a few people that I buy wine from and whose job it is to sell me as much wine as possible. I know that one of my jobs is to buy wine from them, but I never actually have the wine list space to buy everything they show me. It's really hard to say no to people who I consider my friends and I always worry that I'm hurting people's feelings when their tasting visit results in no sale. Obviously though, I don't always love what they bring me, which is what has been the issue with Stetson.

Stetson has been trying to sell me wine for a while now with very little result. He's already running against the wind with me because he specializes in Solvenian wine, something I haven't been that interested in so far. Week after week, he's brought a wine bag full of wines for me to try and I've disliked every one of them. It feels like this has been going on forever and I've been fairly convinced that meeting with him has been a waste of time, which is why when he walked in the door to Lucques the other day, I actually cringed a little. And then, something unusual happened. He poured a taste of wine for me that I actually liked. Let me just say that it came as quite a shock to the both of us.

The wine? 2008 Kabaj, Sivi Pinot, a Pinot Gris from Goriska Brda. The Goriska Brda is a range of hills in western Slovenia along the border of Italy. This is actually an ideal grape growing region that has a sub Mediterranean climate with mineral rich soils and an Adriatic influence. These hills are completely covered with vines, 55,000 of which belong to the Kabaj winery family. Kabaj belongs to Katja Kabaj Morel and her oenologist husband Jean Michel Morel, who previously worked in cellars throughout France and Italy. As their property had a long grape growing history, they decided to vinify and bottle their own wine, rather than sell off the grapes to others. They farm their vineyards sustainably, doing all of the work manually and focusing their efforts on the soils and tradition.

Jean Michel does the unusual thing of making his wine in qvevri, large sealed clay vessels in which the grapes ferment and age for nine months. After this, the wine and its lees are poured into large oak barrels and left to age for an additional year. The wine is then fined, filtered and bottled for yet another year of aging. This process is an ancient Georgian technique which Jean Michel feels connects his thoroughly modern wine to historical winemaking traditions.

This wine, made from 100% Pinot Gris shows delicate aromatics on the nose of green apple and white flowers. On the palate, this wine drinks a lot like a white Rhone blend in that it is dry yet rich, clean yet fleshy. It has a textural density with touches of exotic, talcum powder like spiciness and an ever so elegant minerality. Though it is not a fruity wine, the green apple notes are present along side a balancing acidity that is decidedly unaggressive, yet effective. This is just a really layered and complex wine.

I completely adored this wine and bought the last two cases available to put on the list at AOC. It is just seems perfect for our adventurous clientele and is so good that I'm sure it won't last long. I actually liked this wine so much that it ignited my interest in Slovenian wine and made me think that maybe Stetson wasn't so bad after all.

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Mid-Summer Night's Doldrum

I know. I know. Where have I been? Why haven't I been blogging?

Well, I'll tell you, I've been in what I call the wine doldrums. I've been tasting wine fairly regularly, but nothing has really excited me. It's not that I'm not trying, or that I haven't tasted anything good and drinkable, but it all just been basically kind of blah. Nothing has knocked my socks off. No pizzaz. No personality.

Of course, a lot of my attitude about the wine I've tasted lately has to do with my attitude in general. I don't know if I'm clouded by the lazy quality of mid-summer days, or by my general desire at this time of year to go on a three month vacation like my kids do. All I do know is that I'm not falling head over heals over much of the wine I've been tasting lately.

That is until yesterday, when my wine rep from Beaune Imports poured me a taste of François Chidaine's 2009 Touraine. François is very old fashioned in his attitude toward wine making, which fortunately includes his commitment to organic farming. Chidaine is a bit of a hero to me in this regard because not only does he produce outstanding, elegant wines, but he is also someone who walks the walk, rather than talk the talk. He has been farming organically for years and more recently moved to biodynamics. But rather than use this fact as a marketing tool, he doesn't mention any of it on his wine's labeling. Many people who go to effort of becoming certified organic, which in itself is a long and tedious process, tend to announce their certification to the world. Clearly, Chidaine farms this way because he believes that this is the way it must be done, and not because it is popular or commercially of the moment. The quality of his wines stand on their own merit.

I always find white wines from Touraine to be really interesting. Both Sauvignon Blanc and Chenin Blanc are grown there and although these varieties couldn't be more different, they always seem to take on each other's characteristics when bottled in this appellation. Chenin, to me, tastes like Sauvignon Blanc and vice-versa. In the case of Chidaine's wine, this 100% Sauvignon Blanc shows aromatic notes akin to Chenin Blanc, namely in its touches of talcum powder, glycerine and delicate citrus scents. On the palate the wine is strikingly fresh and tart with soft tropical touches and elegant acid structure. It has amazing minerality that results in a salted plum quality that is both savory and refreshing. This wine immediately brought me out of my wine funk and reawakened my zest for all things wine.

I could literally drink this wine everyday, especially since it's pretty affordable. And, since I'm putting it on my lists at Tavern and Lucques by the glass next week, I probably will.

P.S. We'll be pouring this wine at this weekend's Sunday Supper at Lucques. It will pair amazingly with the melon, proscuitto, mint and crème fraîche appetizer. Come by and join us!

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A Rosé By Any Other Name...

I know that I sound like a broken record, always rambling on and on about how much I like rosé, but I just can't help it. You see, one of the most exciting things to me about this time of year is the arrival of the newly released rosés into the market. It reminds me that summer is just around the corner and lazy weekend afternoons sipping rosé in the sunshine of my back patio are not so far away. I'm lucky because I actually have a pretty wide variety of rosés on my wine lists right now, so I'm a little spoiled for choice when it comes to finding one to drink. Of course, it doesn't hurt that the world seems to be in a rosé renaissance right now, with some pretty incredible and well-respected wineries producing outstanding pink wine.

To celebrate the season, our last Monday Larder Wine and Cheese Club featured four rosés from southern France that spanned the regions from Côtes du Rhône all the way down to Cassis. In fact, the highlight of the night, and my new favorite rosé, was the 2009 Clos Sainte Magdeleine, Cassis Rosé. Clos Sainte Magdeleine covers over 20 very special hectares of land that directly face the Mediterranean Sea. Most of its vineyards are planted on terraced slopes of Cap Canaille, an insanely beautiful rock formation that juts out into the water and is actually the highest maritime cliff in Europe. This is an amazingly picturesque area that is like a French version of Malibu's Point Dume, only covered with rows and rows of perfect vineyards. This place is so beautiful that I am dying to go visit just to experience it in person.

The Magdeleine estate itself has belonged to a Greek family named Zafiropulo since 1920, though wine growing in this area dates far back to antiquity. The winery makes only white and rosé wine from vines that average 30 years in age. They farm meticulously, picking and sorting by hand and de-stemming before fermenting and aging the wine in tank for 14 to 18 months. This wine is a blend of 65% Grenache, 18% Cinsault and 17% Mourvedre, a mix that seems to result in the perfect balance of fruitiness and acidity. On the nose, the wine shows notes of strawberry, melon and fully bloomed roses. It is bright and fleshy, bursting with bright red plum, tart acidity and long finish. Though the flavors are vibrant, the wine is clean and crisp, and manages to tame its fruity exuberance with a touch of salty minerality.

Rosé is one of those wines that I feel is under-appreciated in general, and is so often relegated to the afternoon aperitif role. Just like with Champagne, I could easily pair rosé wines with a multi-course meal, skipping white and red wine entirely. In fact, I re-tasted this wine last night with a variety of cow's milk cheeses that we are selling in the Larder at Tavern and was blown away by the wine's versatility. It worked with both the stinky and the mild, playing well off of the funky "animal" character and saltiness of the cheeses.

Fortunately, I bought the majority of the available Clos Sainte Magdeleine for Lucques and Tavern, so if anyone wants to taste it, you know where to get it...that is, if I haven't finished it off myself first.

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If I had a Nikolaihof For Every Time I....

Believe it or not, tasting wine on a regular basis is hard work. I know it sounds crazy, but it's really not all fun and games. I take thorough notes about the wine's color, aromas and flavors as well as the history and people involved in each winery. I have to know about the winemaking process and how each step of that process affects the product in the bottle. I need to speak intelligently about each sip, commenting on the wine's weight, texture and acid levels. ("This tastes good," doesn't quite cut it here.) And I often have to taste wine in the presence of the its maker, which means maintaining a happy face whether I like the wine or not. Frankly, I'm not drinking the wine to enjoy it, or the gentle relaxed feeling that each sip of wine provides. I'm tasting the wine to analyze it, to determine if it belongs on my wine list and whether my guests will like it as much as I do. It's a lot of pressure.

Fortunately enough for me, I get to taste more good wine than bad, making the process that much more enjoyable. Today I was lucky enough to sample the new vintage of Nikolaihof's Gruner Veltliner, Hefeabzig, a wine that I would happily taste each and every day. It helps that Gruner Veltliner holds a special place in my heart. There is just something about the variety's bright savoriness and oily texture that really speaks to my palate.

Nikolaihof is the oldest winemaking property in Austria, and the first biodynamic estate in the Wachau. The property dates back 2000 years, with wine being produced there since the time of the Celts in around 470 A.D. It's a beautiful place with elements of history scattered throughout, like their cellar which was built in what was originally a Roman crypt. The Saah's family that owns and operates the winery takes the biodynamic philosophy seriously, utilizing its principles in their daily lives and crediting it for the consistency of their wines from vintage to vintage.

This wine is nothing if not complex. On the nose, it hints at richness with aromas of potent lime, minerals and salt. But the palate is where this wine really sings. It's amazingly perfumed with touches of white flowers and exotic fruits. The flavors bring to mind bright red plum, bursting with freshness and acidity, alongside savory herbs and rich chamomile. It is complex and layered, heavy on mineral content and elegant notes of white pepper. This wine truly provides a new discovery in each sip.

I don't think I've ever tasted a wine from Nikolaihof that I haven't liked. I try to always have this wine on my list at Lucques, not only because I happen to love it, but because it works so well with Suzanne's cuisine. If every wine I tasted was like this, my job would be a breeze.

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Marche to the Beat of Your Own Drummer

I realize that the majority of the posts I've written so far are about white wine. Oh there are a few red essays on my list, but I guess I've got a thing for high acid whites right now. I suppose that it's appropriate for the season as the weather is getting progressively warmer the idea of drinking a cool glass of white just feels right.

The whites that have been on my tasting radar lately seem to all be Italian. In fact, every time I order a glass of wine, or sit down to taste a sample bottle, it just happens to be some interesting little Italian find. It's like the wine tasting stars have aligned and we are in the house of white with Italy rising. Today was indeed more of the same...or stesso as they say in Italian. I was re-tasting the 2006 Fattoria San Lorenzo, Verdicchio di Castelli di Jesi, Classico Superiore with my staff at Tavern today as I have just put it on the wine list by the glass. I originally purchased this wine for a flight night that focused on the wines and food of the Marche region in eastern Italy. I and everyone at that tasting loved this wine so much, that I thought I should expose more people to it.

The Marche is a curving rectangular shaped area on what I call, the upper calf of Italy's boot. The region has a varied geography and climate that includes coastal stretches, river valleys and mountainous expanses, and as a result produces high acid white wines as well as rich, robust reds. Verdicchio is the primary white grape variety grown there and in the hands of the people at San Lorenzo, it really sings.

Fattoria San Lorenzo has been passed down from father to son for generations. The grandfather Enrico Crognaletti is a barrel maker and, in fact, used to pick the trees and build the barrels that were used to vinify his own Verdicchio. His nephew Natalino is now at the healm of their winery and vineyards that are located in the nearby towns of Ostra, Ostra Vetere and Corinaldo. This wine has a couple of years of bottle age on it and is a great example of what Verdicchio can become as it matures. It is almost Burgundian in style and reflects the flavors of younger Verdicchio, but with more concentration. It is full bodied and creamy - but not oaky - with a bright straw yellow coloring with green highlights. It shows intense and continuous aromas of ripe fruit particularly apple and ripe pear with complex layers and nutty minerality.

I'm lucky to have so many venues through which I can feature all of the wines that I love. As for this one, it is becoming a favorite at the bar at Tavern. It's a wine that appeals to both the less experienced as well as the seasoned wine drinker alike. Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that no wine is too sophisticated or too "odd" to pour by the glass. I love introducing people to great wines, no matter the variety or place of origin. And although Verdicchio is not all that unusual, anything that gets people to stray from their normal Pinot Grigio wine path is worth the effort.

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An Education

The windy weather we've been experiencing in LA has me a little off balance, and a bit freaked out really. I'm always a bit jumpy when it's like this. Every time the wind shakes the windows in my house, or rattles the retractable patio roof at Lucques, I feel my heart jump and my body stiffen. It's not that I have a fear of the roof blowing off, but there is just something about a windy night that puts me on edge. Frankly, it's the kind of weather that drives me to drink.

To calm my nerves on this blustery evening, I decided to drink a glass of the 2008 Elio Grasso Langhe Chardonnay, Educato. I've had this sample bottle for a couple of weeks now but just didn't have the opportunity to taste it until right now. I tend to like Chardonnays from Italy, as they usually have less fruitiness and higher acidity than that of new world regions. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against domestic Chardonnay. I just prefer the ones that shy away from the oak and butter profile.

I was actually pretty excited to taste this wine as I've been a long time fan of Elio Grasso's reds. The Grasso's have been in the region for generations, but it wasn't until the early 1980's that the family decided to revisit their roots as grape growers in the highly-regarded Monforte d'Alba region of Piemonte. Their main wine production centers around the traditional varieties of the area, Nebbiolo, Barbera and Dolcetto. In 1986, they added a small plot of the non-native Chardonnay in order to coax, or as they call it, "educate" their area's terroir into and out of the variety. They are meticulous in the vineyards and in the cellar, vinifying and bottling each variety from each vineyard separately. For the Chardonnay, they initially ferment in French oak barrique. Then, after malolactic fermentation in stainless steel, they move the wine into new French oak for seven months of aging.

This is not a bright, fresh light wine, but is rather more serious than that. It reminds me quite a bit of a Burgundy with some bottle age on it, where the fruit has matured and the oak softened, giving way to a wine of elegance and developed maturity. It has a deep and exotic nose of freshly grated ginger and ripe pineapple. On the palate, it shows notes of yellow nectarine and golden raisin mingled with a rich nuttiness and a balancing acidity that leads to a long finish. It has an oily texture and weightiness that highlight it's perfume of drying rose petals. Much like the Grasso Nebbiolo, it has a beautiful minerality running through it that is no doubt responsible for its elegance and complexity.

I've actually had a few glasses of this wine over the last few days and each time I taste it, my feeling about it is confirmed. I'm getting ready to open the second sample bottle that I have, just to reconfirm. If this is the education that the Grasso's are giving, then enroll me in more classes.

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A Window of Opportunity

We are in the midst of planning another winemaker dinner at AOC, this time with La Fenêtre, a boutique winery from California's Central Coast. I've had a couple of opportunities to taste through the line-up that we'll be pouring and I must say, I'm really excited for this one.

La Fenêtre (the window in French) is a label that was started by Sona's former sommelier Joshua Klapper back in 2005 as a negotiant project. He doesn't own his own vineyards, but instead buys grapes from others and then makes the wine himself. Of course, these aren't just any grapes he's buying. He's buying grapes from some of the area's most respected vineyard sites and from some pretty exacting growers, like Bien Nacido Vineyard in Santa Maria and Alisos Vineyard in Santa Barbara. And his mentors through this process are not just anyone. He's been guided down his winemaking path by the incredibly successful Jim Clendenen of Au Bon Climat and Bob Lindquist of Qupé. Josh's goal is to make elegant, balanced and food-friendly wines that are old world in style and new world in technique. He ages his wines in neutral oak barrels and shoots for low alcohol levels and high acidity. After tasting through these wines, it's evident that he is doing what he set out to do.

It's hard to say which of these wines excites me the most. I love his 2008 A Côté Santa Barbara County Chardonnay for it's bright citrus notes and salty minerality. The 2008 A Côté Central Coast Pinot Noir tastes like true Pinot with its lean elegance and notes of cola and cherry. And his 2008 A Côté Syrah is high-toned, bright and complex, not jammy and fruity like most other Syrahs from Santa Barbara. All of the wines have a silkiness and acidity that speak to the La Fenêtre old-world sensibility, but with a delicate fruitiness that is unmistakably from California.

Josh is a really lovely guy who never seems to get tired of the wine business or of developing himself as a winemaker. He's come a really long way in a brief amount of time, having started out making his wines at Au Bon Climat and setting out on his own after only a few short years. It is not uncommon for a sommelier to want to make wine for him (or her) self. But very few of them actually succeed on this kind of level, wherein they actually make the complete move to winemaking full time and turn the idea into a viable business. It is a huge accomplishment that is really quite inspiring.

The dinner at AOC will take place on Monday, May 10th and will feature the La Fenêtre Alisos Vineyard Syrah, as well as the three above mentioned wines from his A Côté label and his Cabernet Sauvignon. I should mention that A Côté is a secondary label that Klapper began a couple of years after he began making La Fenêtre. These wines are equally as elegant and well made as his La Fenêtre wines, but are at a slighly lower price point, something that is much appreciated in these financially trying times. The dinner will consist of five courses and will cost $100, not including tax or gratuity. Call AOC at 323/653.6359 to book at table and join us.

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