The Feiring Line

BrunelloBrunello

Brunello

Eleven bottles isn�t a whole lot but that�s what I tasted with few select drinkers around my kitchen table the other night. All bottles got an even shake. They were wrapped up and tasted blindly.

A lot of restaurants tell me they can�t sell Brunello these days. What a surprise. The wine has out priced itself. Like, what should you expect to pay? Mostly $65 to $120? And why should you do that? I mean, is it really that good?

Oh, don�t get me wrong. I do enjoy a good, solid Brunello and it was good to remind myself what the wine tasted like because over the past few years I�ve either shunned it or I�ve been to tasting where all that was being poured were terribly wooded and cosmetically adjusted wines.

Saturday night, however, the wines were good enough to remind me what I had once liked about them; a comforting sunny happiness. Price aside, the best have a dollop of early summer cherry and cedar and forest honey. There may be some rusty nail, which I love. Or some sanguine, meaty quality. The tannins are not massive, but there�s enough around to age up well. Acidity? Yup. That�s what makes it such a good pairing with tomato based foods (and many others. I had a wild mushroom dish that it was terrific with, as it did with the roasted red peppers).

Two bottles were stellar.
The most expensive wasn�t the best.
In fact the least expensive Brunello was the most beloved. And the shocking news is that a lowly rosso blew all of the Brunellos out of the running. And as far as great producers? Biondi-Santi still makes beautiful wine. Another profound favorite is Mastrojanni. These were the evening�s hits.

2000 Biondi-Santi Rosso di Montalcino $33- $65
(Yup. You can find this wine at multiple prices) I loved this wine. On my first sip it got my attention; wow, what was that? The perfume from crushed, dried warm roses was intense. The cedar note blew off in a few hours. You could smell the sun and a touch of mineral metal, which might sound bad but it was compelling.

1999 Mastrojanni Brunello di Montalcino, $40
Bargain. Thank God. It's delicious. Intense nose. Touches of bergamot via Earl Grey tea and a high C of cherry with a good lively acid bath-- just the right nuance.

1999 Cantina di Montalcino. $51
The wine was expressive though I wasn�t exactly sure what it was telling me. It had a meaty (and bloody, in a good way) aroma and taste, made all the more happy by chocolate, cocoa, sun dried olives and apricots, nice rusty nail, silty tannins and a lovely balance.

2000 Piccolomini Pianrosso, Ciacii, $65.
Sure it�s a nice wine and if it were $40 it might really be worth it. Some forest, some pine needle, some moss and a definite dollop of that give-me-more- forest honey.

You�ll be pleased to know--as I was-- that the 1999 Barbi, Vigna del Fiore at $109, a modern style Brunello that was rife with cherry vanilla and a muddling point of view was a complete dud. Commercial. Pandering. A waste of money.

A Bunch Of Italians

I've been down on the job and have been lax in tasting. But I got back on the horse this week. At a Montecastelli Selections tasting I actually found wines that pleased me. Here are a few.

ROSETI- VELIO 2003. This is a pretty inexpensive Chianti that sees no wood, it�s plunked in stainless and is a simple bit cheery wine with some chew to it.

PIRA DOLCETTO DI ALBA VIGNA FORNACI 2002.
Lovely. Basic every day lively dolcetto, and a little dusty. It�s just the way it used to be before the wine put on airs. You might find this for under $15. I did not like their Vigna Bricco Botti which had been housed in #2 pencils.

JOSETTA SAFFRIO BAROLO 2000. It�s the wine makers first effort and she produced a nice wine that successfully walks the tightrope between the modern and the traditionalists. There�s enough fennel and licorice to appeal to those of us who go trad and enough fruit to lure the barrique lovers. (around $43?)

ROCCA DI CASTAGNOLI CHIANTI POGGIO AI FRATI RISERVA 2000. I always liked this producer but in this tasting I found out they have gone modern, EXCEPT for this Riserva which shows they can still make a great wine. Edgy, great acidity with terrific sun baked, �chai tea� like aromas. Mid $20�s.

ONA-CARMNERE 2003. I�ve been promising myself to be the kinder, gentler wine taster. And so when I initially passed this by saying, �Chile, I don�t think so.� I mentally spanked myself and came back to taste it. And wow, I said, that�s not so bad. Has a leafy, crushed dried herb thing going that was quite appealing, with a bit of blueberry. I take a better look-- it�s Chile�s only biodynamic wine. Go know. Pretty damned good and at around $11, a decent price.

ANTONIO FERRARI-SOLARIA JONICA 1959. You won�t be seeing this anytime soon at about $130 for 500ml, but it is really stunning. It started life as Pugliese wine (negroamaro?) made in one of the hottest years in the last century. It was brought up to Piemonte where it lay forgotten until ten years ago when plunked into large oak casks. This is a once in a lifetime oddity. Taste? Think a chocolate and prune PX flavor with an elegant Barolo like weight.

an italiante muscadetish wine

LAILA-ELEKIKOS (VERDICCHIO) 2004. Really loved this one but it�s a tad expensive for what it is �probably would be around $18, don�t quote me. From the Marches, it had a stellar mineral quality, think of it as an muscadet, Italian style.

Designer Shoes in Romans, New York Times

Designer Shoes in Romans, France
By Alice Feiring

Published: May 1, 2005

he name Romans, a shoecentric town in France, should be branded into the gray matter of the shoe obsessed. Forty-five minutes southeast of Lyon in the Rhone Valley, it was the country's leather-tanning center during the 1800's. By the next century the town turned to manufacturing bespoke and high-end shoes.

Now, ever so slightly seedy, Romans is home to a nifty shoe museum, Muse International de la Chaussure. But more to the point are the factory outlets crammed with gorgeously made shoes. Some names to get the juices going are Stephane Klian, Paraboot, Charles Jourdan, Accessoire Diffusion and a relative newcomer, Laure Bassal, whose colorful flapper-era-inspired designs rarely make it to the United States.

But it is the Robert Clergerie store (also stocking J. Fenestrier shoes for men) just on the outskirts of town that spikes my adrenalin. While the fluorescent lights are reminiscent of to stateside outlet stores, the rich range of sizes and options (including some terrific bags) on the shelves do not. This is a true factory store and not where style mistakes go to die.

Sylvie Bret, store manager, has been with the company since 1981. When I stopped in, she was in a great mood, eagerly sharing the news: her old boss was back. Mr. Clergerie, 70, had just bought back the shoe business he sold seven years before.

Amused by my visit, she said few Americans know Romans. Her best customers are Parisians detouring to the store from their Alps or Provence destinations to shop for boots and shoes generally discounted from 40 to 70 percent. When France goes on sale in mid-January and July, subtract another 40 to 75 percent at the outlets. During these sales, she said, she is very likely to sell 200 pairs daily.

I was thrilled to find a particular pair of ankle-grazing, man-styled oxfords I'd coveted for years for only 95 euros, or $126, at $1.32 to the euro - about $530 off the usual price. A little snug? No problem. She had them stretched, gratis, resulting in a perfect fit. Five pairs later, with prices ranging up from $24, my splurge topped out at $292, far less than a single pair at the full cost.

Robert Clergerie, at Rue Pierre Curie, (33-4) 75.05.59.65, www.robertclergerie.com, is open 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and 2 to 7 p.m. on Monday. Closed on Sunday.

The Ramp Ritual with Chassagne, 2005

They're up.

Ramps, or Rapunzel's beloved rampion, are truffley and musky and at the very right time in spring crawling over the muddy, earth worm-rich forest floor.

Foraging for ramps is a spring rite (three hours north west of NYC and no, I will not tell you where my stash is.) I've been foraging for several years now, but last year, due to circumstances out of my control, I changed foraging partners and now, two dear friends have hopped aboard this ritual of mine with adequate enthusiasm.

That's Courtney, playing at wood nymph in a sea of ramps.

My friend Linda--gardner extraordinaire-- couldn�t wait for the big dig. And here she is looking quite pixie-ish.

And of course, that's me with my nose in the heady alliums-- ---thinking about the wine to best partner that night's ramp feast.

I like my ramps straight and simple: sauted (or seetawed, as Linda would say) in EVO, a sprinkle of good salt on top of a firm puddle of mashed potatoes. I usually swear by a northern Rhone syrah but I had another option up my sleeve--one that would shock and terrify most sommeliers. The wine, I might add, was a BRILLIANT match.

Here's what happened. On the way up I stopped in a beastly overpriced Woodstock wine store with practically nothing I would stoop to buy. On the shelves was a wine wallflower, at least in this part of the world. It was a Chassagne Montrachet Rouge from the Morgeot 1er Cru vineyard (from the brilliant 2002 vintage). A bargain--even here--- at $21.

The Morgeot vineyard often offers up plenty of red bargains, as it's a Cote de Beaune vineyard known for chardonnay. This one, imported by Monsieur Touton --a little funky at first. I was confused; was it plunked in oak that was too toasty or did it just need some air? The answer was air. It needed lots. After some oxygen the wine became a mid-weight love fest full of earthy flavor-- like the crushed leaves of the forest floor--and a healthy dose of raspberry. It was really good. The wine had enough acidity to cut through the wildness of the ramps, its earthiness matched the truffle/garlic earth of the greens echoed the truffle element.

The next time a wine guy tells you that you should really only have a gewurtz or riesling with sauted ramps, bop them over the head, be strong. Tell them to hold the fruity wines, what you want is a red dominated by earth with some allusion to red fruit. Preferably a pinot, syrah or cab franc. Don't let them convince you otherwise.

P.S. When we loaded the car up with the ramps, the car reeked of the smell, which I rather enjoyed. The next morning, carting my share back to the city, they started to smell like Lily of the Valley! I thought I was having some sort of sensual hallucination. Just to reality check, I asked the man from Enterprise Auto what the car smelled like. "A flower shop," he said. Can any one out there solve this mystery for me?

The Ramp Ritual with Chassagne, 2005

They're up.

Ramps, or Rapunzel's beloved rampion, are truffley and musky and at the very right time in spring crawling over the muddy, earth worm-rich forest floor.

Foraging for ramps is a spring rite (three hours north west of NYC and no, I will not tell you where my stash is.) I've been foraging for several years now, but last year, due to circumstances out of my control, I changed foraging partners and now, two dear friends have hopped aboard this ritual of mine with adequate enthusiasm.

That's Courtney, playing at wood nymph in a sea of ramps.

My friend Linda--gardner extraordinaire-- couldn�t wait for the big dig. And here she is looking quite pixie-ish.

And of course, that's me with my nose in the heady alliums-- ---thinking about the wine to best partner that night's ramp feast.

I like my ramps straight and simple: sauted (or seetawed, as Linda would say) in EVO, a sprinkle of good salt on top of a firm puddle of mashed potatoes. I usually swear by a northern Rhone syrah but I had another option up my sleeve--one that would shock and terrify most sommeliers. The wine, I might add, was a BRILLIANT match.

Here's what happened. On the way up I stopped in a beastly overpriced Woodstock wine store with practically nothing I would stoop to buy. On the shelves was a wine wallflower, at least in this part of the world. It was a Chassagne Montrachet Rouge from the Morgeot 1er Cru vineyard (from the brilliant 2002 vintage). A bargain--even here--- at $21.

The Morgeot vineyard often offers up plenty of red bargains, as it's a Cote de Beaune vineyard known for chardonnay. This one, imported by Monsieur Touton --a little funky at first. I was confused; was it plunked in oak that was too toasty or did it just need some air? The answer was air. It needed lots. After some oxygen the wine became a mid-weight love fest full of earthy flavor-- like the crushed leaves of the forest floor--and a healthy dose of raspberry. It was really good. The wine had enough acidity to cut through the wildness of the ramps, its earthiness matched the truffle/garlic earth of the greens echoed the truffle element.

The next time a wine guy tells you that you should really only have a gewurtz or riesling with sauted ramps, bop them over the head, be strong. Tell them to hold the fruity wines, what you want is a red dominated by earth with some allusion to red fruit. Preferably a pinot, syrah or cab franc. Don't let them convince you otherwise.

P.S. When we loaded the car up with the ramps, the car reeked of the smell, which I rather enjoyed. The next morning, carting my share back to the city, they started to smell like Lily of the Valley! I thought I was having some sort of sensual hallucination. Just to reality check, I asked the man from Enterprise Auto what the car smelled like. "A flower shop," he said. Can any one out there solve this mystery for me?