Recent Posts in Travel

And the final day...
March 9, 2010
I was ultimately in the area to be part of a round table on wine homogenization. On the panel was a man often called the Michel Rolland of Spain. When our moderator, an adorable Cristina Alcala asked us, Ignacio as well as Cesar Cubillas, a rather simpatico wine importer, what are the components of great wine, Ignacio said, "Land is the least important." Then he went on to tell us about a viognier he made far, far, away on soils and in a climate that even made Ignacio wonder if planting the grapes and making the wine would disturb the natural order of the universe. A woman in the front row glared at me. She probably heard what I was thinking and hated me. It was her favorite wine. That night, Cristina, Rosa and Marta, all friends from Madrid went out to dinner. Remember this address, it was one of the best meals I've had in ages. Talent. Big talent. Casa Marcelo Rue Hortas 1 Santiago de Copostela casamarcelo.net amuse was frozen rhubarb, looking like a slab of tuna on crushed ice, all bitter, sweet, limey, acidic. A lovely alvarinho. Loved it. From Marcial Dorado,, previously a Galcian mussel fisherman...

Galicia. Ribeira Sacra(Part 5). Hijacked
March 9, 2010
On Monday morning I, with the help of a local sommelier, headed out to see what I could see in Ribeira Sacra, about two hours from Santiago. Stunning. Steep. The hills have ghost vineyards underneath the brush. At one point before World War 11. the mountains were covered with terraces and now you can just feel the erosion. It's wet. The soil sags. And when you're talking about a potential 80 degree tilt to the land, disaster is around the corner. Even I began to think, perhaps it's time to retire this land. Of course you can't grown anything else on it. Vines can survive. It is not for wheat, not tomatoes nor potatoes. It is vineland. But I have to say I really was wondering if after centuries, as the Ribeira can claim wine back to Roman times, perhaps it's time to give the land and the farmer a break. I was happy to see this magical place, with rose quartz proudly strutting its prettiness in the vineyard. But ladies and gentlemen, I was hijacked. On the way up I asked my host, "Where are were going?" I admit, I asked because I was not trusting. He responded, "Where...

Galicia; Rias Baixas (Part 4)
March 6, 2010
What's left of a home winemaker's 200 year old caino vine. He was wearing Sunday shoes and was wary of the muddy ground. As he tried to stay Sunday Clean he told us, "Albarino was never made in oak, it was always made in chestnut," he told us. The man's wine was terribly underripe, nice old vines, but still making wine for quantity not quality. It put the region's vinous history in context. Maybe as he suggested, they needed octopus. Honorio and Todd then ferried me to Forja del Salnes. The wines there are made by Raul Perez, the most famous winemaker in the area and farmed by Rodrigo Mendez, otherwise known as Rodri. Importer and all round fabulous man, Jose Pastor met me there, having flown up from Valencia earlier that morning. I was glad to see his cheery face. The best part of this visit was when Rodri took us to see a very special vineyard he started to rent. We piled into three cars, (these winemakers seem to travel in packs) and twenty minutes later we were at La Signora's who had always made wine purely for home use. Rodri seems to be the Tegan Passalacqua...

Galicia; Rias Baixas (Part 3)
March 3, 2010
Pergola, is the traditional way of farming the albarino vines and when walking under old vines, with thick barks and long tentacles, I can't get the image out of my mind that I'm walking under the legs of tarantulas. Todd in the vines his friend Honorio farms for Veiga Serantes. I disappointed Honorio, he had beautiful hairy crabs for lunch, we moved on to the next step, Lagar de Pintos Located in Salnes, the family has been producing since 1887. Part of the Domaine is set up like a museum to show what it was like then, barrels of wine fermenting in the kitchen, that sort of thing. But Marta, an oatmeal colored girl,thin with large orbular eyes, blue and serious took us to taste the wines. She does quite a bit of cash cow wines, didn't taste them, so I can't comment, and then the Lagar de Pintos. Marta had been making wine, like Todd, since 2003. She doesn't yeast but she does feed the buggers, if the chemistry indicates the organisms needs a boost. She also cools the grapes down quite a bit to 3 degree c. for 36 hours, and then destems and presses. She fiddles with...

Galicia (Part 2)
February 28, 2010
Because I liked Todd's wine so much and because it seemed as if he was a lone ranger kind of guy, I was interested to know what his Galicia looked like. I knew the commercial face, a lot of wine I couldn't drink. Gallo is rules there with its brands like Martin Codax and Kendall-Jackson is buiding a big estate --plantations are underway. I had been warned by the marketing arm that organic is very difficult in Galicia,so wet, I was told. See the celery green part of the map north of Pontevedra? That's the region, the Val do Salnes. First to his vineyards. Todd wants very much to focus on single vineyard albarinos. This was in his organic one--the kind of organic they say is so hard to do ;) in back of a church. The spongy, healthy soil---with diviets from the massive amounts of rain--was filled with thyme and mint and chunks of remarkable red/pink granite. I never saw this kind of granite in soil, gorgeous stuff and they were all around. To see them in the sun might have been exquisite, like TinkerBells in the vineyard. But it was as green as Ireland and as soggy. Inside...

Belly Dancing in Angers
February 17, 2010
After freezing our blood at the Dive tasting (coming up) and taking refuge at the Renaissance tasting in Angers, we headed to a party put together by Pat (of Domaine Griottes) where a woman was belly dancing up a storm. Blissfully grabbing recalcitrant winemakers to their feet. Annaick pulled the camera from my hands and trained it on me as Pascaline & Linda and I drank Clos Fantine at the time and tried to ham it up, failing miserably....

The Village Tart
February 14, 2010
News Flash There's hardly any good food in my hood, so when I passed The Village Tart on Kenmare and Mulberry I was curious. It sits oddly on the corner--crossroads of Soho, Nolita, Chinatown and Little Italy on the way to the Holland Tunnel. It was night, and the cafe glowed golden and siren-like. Inside, kind of cafe, kind of take out, kind of lunch spot, kind of wine bar, kind of romantic dinner hang. You know the kind of place you always want to happen upon? It occurred to me this fit the agenda--for tourist or for me, a neighbor. Unable to resist, I bought a piece of orange marmalade cake. I ate it for breakfast. Wondered why it was so delicious. The next day I went back and Pichet Ong walked in. Mystery solved. Full disclosure. I've been a long time fan of Pichet ever since my friend Melissa Clark wrote about his Kabocha squash pieand then hung out with him at a conference in Madrid. His palate suits mine. He likes clean, simple and is not afraid of heat and bitter. A rare chef who can do sweet and savory. their website Went back the next day....

On the way to La Remise
February 11, 2010
The next day, I headed south and stayed the night with Matt Kling and Amy Lillard of La Gramiere, ex-pats who became accidental vigneron, because as Amy said, "We do everything on impulse." Amy laughed a particular kind of laugh, a good-natured, self-effacing laugh that seems to say, "The joke is on me!" Earlier that evening, close to sunset, she picked me up in a near by town next to the church. This being Sunday, the town was silent, except for the cats. At the cafe adjacent to the church a man stood in the window, picking his nose without apology. She arrive with husband Matt. Dogs barking in the car. Quick, to the vines before night fell. This is Lauzette, her favorite, "It makes such gorgeous grenache," she said. Then, onto their farmhouse in St. Quentin la Poterie where Matt stuffed the ravioli . Meanwhile, excellent hostess, she fetched a Cyril Bouchard Inflorescence Blanc de Noirs. She took that first sip with such glee I swear she was saying, "Oh goodie!" The champagne deserved the enthusiasm and Amy deserved applause for such graciousness. The wine is all pinot noir, not dosed up, sky meets earth. Too hard to talk...

From 2 Anes to Toulouse
February 4, 2010
I should start at the beginning, but I need to tell you about something that happened in the middle. The punishing wind, the sweet asses, Millesime Bio and Domaine des 2 Anes behind us we Jenny, Francois (of the selections) and Kate, the lasagna maker and crack sales chick, took the road for the seven -hour drive up north. One hour into it, I saw the Toulouse signs. "Hey! Anthony said there was a great wine bar around here." I quickly scanned my old texts, and sure enough there it was, Le Temps des Vendange. Francois' iPhone GPS guided us through the most visually unusual French city I'd ever been. I'm used to Frenchly white and yellow and bone tinted cities. Limestone cities. Cement cities. But this one could have been Lowell, Massachussets, with its landscape of oxidized red-colored brick buildings. "All the same labels," Jenny whispered to me. At first blush, yes, but then under more careful scrutiny others popped from the shelves. Neither one of use had seen or or ............ and I was delighted to see ... ....a wine Jenny had pointed out to me at the La Remise tasting a few days back, from the barbated,...

Leon Barral in Flight Entertainment
January 21, 2010
Will report from the road! Be good. Drink well. Support random acts of kindness....

Into My Fifth Year as a Wine Blogger? From the Archives
January 19, 2010
How did this happen without me seeing it? But out of nostalgia I thought I'd repost my very first before this grew into something else, bigger than myself. First posted December 12, 2004, and I refer to the cataclysmic summer that had just past. That's me this summer in Tain Hermitage. I was roasting in the Rhone, looking upward, wondering just how hot it was going to get in an hour. Or maybe I was thinking about the beautiful blushed apricots that grew all over the region, plump and firm at the same time, utterly sweet with just a dash of luscious tart. I'd come to France to work on several wine stories. The one in the Northern Rhone was about syrah. Later on that day, I would have lunch smack in the vineyard of Hermitage. Later I'd discuss native yeast fermentation with winemakers whom I deeply respected. I'd taste some remarkable older Hermitage and Cornas (which just doesn't get enough respect), get a huge crush on wine maker deity, Thierry Allemand, I'd walk across the river at sunset. I would end up across the street from my dive hotel- until the wee hours of the night with some friends...

The Year in Pictures
December 26, 2009
One of the best new restaurants I went to in Paris, though I can't quite believe it, but true; 114 Faubourg, in the Hotel le Bristol. Room like the inside of a Klimt painting. Food clean, expensive, but I almost think worth it? Fun and pure. High % of plastic surgery and stunning jewelry. Wonderful cepe soup and a stunning bass wrapped in fennel stalks like a sweet poisson package. There was one wine worth drinking, 2002 Pibarnon. Thank goodness for it on this mostly crappy international wine list. And, ah, that mad and crazy Polish vigneron, Andrea If you can't read my writing; This is the 2007 version of Babiole, a blend of grenache, carignan,syrah, Can't believe this is the 'methode chauvet,' because I can't detect carbonic. There is a hi-ink tone and floral exotica with hefty licorice. I lusted after shoes.True. I saw these hand made doojobs in Paris, taunting me in the shop right next to Marriage Freres in the Marais where I bought my extra tarry Lapsang and these too, not far from Invalides From my friend Stephen, the place you want to stay while in Fes. My wildly talented friend collects the King....

Alice Gets Saved (from switching)
December 20, 2009
"Boots is not going to be a switcher!" a friend said about her charmer of a daughter. It took a few beats for me to understand that we weren't addressing Boots' sexuality, but proper utensil strategy. Under penalty of spanking, the child would eventually (she was still on the bottle) feed herself with the same hand she pierced the morsel of foie and never, ever 'switch' that fork to her more dominant hand to eat. I blushed, because I was harboring a shameful secret. I was raised by wolves. As a result I was switcher, fork went from left to right and then into mouth. I then realized I spent my life eating at the table as if it were the trough and my regrettable habits had been impediments to my getting ahead in life. God is great (though a little too late) and opportunity came my way last year when I was putting the sagrantino to bed. Conveniently already on the west coast, I was invited to the Meadowood resort ostensibly to get a file applied to those rough edges. This was a test drive for some 'Wine Etiquette" weekends they were going to offer (do not know if...

Sold! Racines. Paris. And Au Revoir to All of That
October 18, 2009
Last week I was at Verre Vole, the wine bar near the Canal St. Martin when my publisher, Jean Paul Rocher said, "PIerre Jancou sold Racines." The last to know, I thought. The last to know. Why when I emailed Pierre a few days ago to tell him I'd see him the next time I was in Paris did he not tell me this was my last chance? Ironically, the first time we met, he practically threw me out of his bar a vin, Le Cremerie. Somehow we overcame that blip and forged a connection. This morning Pierre sent an email around to some of his fans, admirers and friends to come and take a glass at Racines on the 22nd of October as he was headed to the Drome to his family. Bonjour a tous, finalement Racines sera vendu vendredi prochain et je vais aller vers de nouvelles aventures plus proche de ma famille dans la Drome. The last time I was in was with my friend Jeremy Parzen and his fiance, the lovely Tracie B While I complained about the sticker shock, that's because I live the life of a writer and not someone on salary. In reality,...

My Jura Disclaimer
October 12, 2009
I accepted a press trip to a region I was nosebleeding to visit. This is a confession worthy of the new 12-step meeting, AWA: Addicted to Writing Anonymous. With no magazines paying expenses, with no trust fund in my past or future, or juicy divorce settlement, there was also no room to be holier than thou so I said, yes, please and thank you. Here's the pickle. Many of the publications I write for forbid sponsored trips. I find them uncomfortable but paradoxically, as a freelancer, especially in these times, I find them useful... for research. For some background. But get a story out of it that is suitable for one of my publications...for me that is like draining a lake with a slotted spoon. No, a return trip is always necessary. Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The trip was five days and in order to squeeze everything I could out of the opportunity, I spent two, very happy weeks over in France and Switzerland. I loved being there and did not want to come back. I bounced around a lot and did not rent a car. Instead, I hopped around on an easy Rail Europe pass...

France So Far
October 2, 2009
On plane, the three vials of CRB pineau d'aunis went down with the ambien. Arrival in Beaune, Russell fetched me at the train, and spirited me off to Bouilland, seven km above Savigny. The Queen Before the guests arrived, Becky and I did some dueling computering, I, sipping at something like a Gagnard C-M. Dinner was had with some honeymooners, cucumber soup and some vegetable thing in my honor while they snaffed down the lamb. 1989 Lafarge. For that moment, joyful. yum After honeymooners taxied back down to Beaune, I knocked back 10mg of Ambien and sent screwy texts to too many people. Got one email from a friend, "I will assume your phone is broken?" Another suggested I was drunk. Neither was true. The result, however, was being shamed off of the stuff, unless absolutely necessary Happy I did not email any editors or engage in Twittering. My iPhone did not sing me out of slumber. Russell wakes me up. He tended to my toast, coffee and we race to the Jura. The landscape. I am slightly disappointed. God knows what I had hoped for/ A jig, perhaps? Did I expect the soil to stand up and dance The...

Nikolaihof, part #2
July 13, 2009
Now that I go over my notes and dig deeper I realize there's something called Codex Wachau which is a testament to purity in wine. But even though the code says no to chemical and flavor changing additives, they ignore the issue of yeast. For some reason, and I just cannot understand this, yeast is not considered an additive. It's just as accepted as breathing the air. Needed. Get your eight glasses of water a day. Add. Dissolve. You know. Never the less there are a few who shun yeast, who believe it to be a rather harsh converter of flavor into something expected, into the boring. Nikolaihof. Nikolaihof's home is just outside of Krems, not far from a nursery (not for children) and once inside the great medieval gates (even though the roots of the place go back to the year 2000) the fragrance from their century- old elderberry tree, impossibly fragrant , for a second made me feel like some goddess of nature was opening up her arms and embracing me with scent and blossom. If only. The scene on 1st avenue seemed far far away under the linden tree. But as heady as it was, once...

Austria First Impressions
June 7, 2009
I was warned that Austria was melancholic. Maybe that's why I felt so good there. Now, sitting in my friend's kitchen under a skylight, near the Canal St. Martin and contemplating the blur. I wanted to bring you along with almost live blogging but was thwarted by disconnectivity that plagued me. Where others might come to find truth in schnitzel and Gruner, I was #1: going to plumb the depths of the new Gemischter Satz craze, drenching the city. #2: tag along with Terry Thiese (Austrian Wine Board). #3: pay homage to Albert Loos, Josef Hoffman and general Austrian style. Saturday after soaking in the Hoffman and a terrific chair exhibit at MAK (applied art museum) I was supposed to meet the Austrian Wine Councils Director for lunch at The Milk Bar After realizing I was being stood up, I succumbed and had a glass of Jamek Gruner 2007, a delicious plate of cheese and then snuck into the Herren room to click this image of a great looking urinal which seems to have been modeled after huttes, those strap-on grape picking baskets....

Paris Eat & Drink
February 8, 2009
On my second to last night in Paris I walked around the 7th with my friend Aurore, in search of sustenance. Tired, saddled with sore feet, we decided not to travel to our restos of choice. I told myself that I was duty. As long as I found good bread, wine and something simple, we were happy. Around the corner from Robuchon's L'Atelier,(the back up plan) we passed Chez Patrick--a snug, Parisian address, almost cute, but not quite, and certainly cozy. We peeked in through the lace and saw a front, round table populated by black-clad men having too good a time. There were multiple bottles of a down-rent Burgundy and I immediately thought, forget this one. But there was bumper car pile-up of wines on the sideboard. Did I see Breton? Did I see Puzelat? I pressed my nose to the window and looked harder. And then, I pulled Aurore into shelter from the hungry streets of Paris. Patrick himself, a Pee-Wee Herman look-a-like, delivered a plate of radish, saucisse, butter and crustilly sour bread. I asked him why he had so many of the vin naturel, and he laughed and said, "Because they are the best." For all...

Has the Paris Wine Bar Scene Gone Dodgy?
February 4, 2009
When I first started my wine bar collection, these pete avec energie places seemed created for me. These restaurants were after my own heart, the wine came first, the food was sourced freshly, i could eat simply and drink Dard & Ribo and all on my freelancer writer income and there were always people to talk with, bonding as we did over wine talk. It was manna. A gift from the wine gods. But with buzz resulting in coverage from magazines like Food and Wine, prices rise, grit falls, the restaurant gentrifies. It is the natural cycle of life. Last night I visited Racines in the Passage des Panoramas. I always stop by to see the owner/chef/one-man band, Pierre, who I met years ago at his previous wine bar on the left bank, Caves Miard-La Cremerie. He almost threw me out of his shoe box of a place, we became friends. Things happen like that. Pierre seems to have more and more tattoos every time I see him, which flashes some color as he works with festive focus behind his stove. His rickety place that sits about 20. I was there with my friends Jeremy Pierre gets better and...

Night 1, in the Cold and the Dark
January 28, 2009
Why was it dark? The storm had stripped the south west of its electricity. Driving south west into the night, was like driving into an ear canal. There were few lights anywhere and I had the feeling that we could catapult from a roundabout into the ocean. But finally, we hooked a left turn down the road in Corbieres and worked up to Domaine Deux Anes into Magali and Dominque Terrier's home just above their old grenache vines. They were waiting for us with candles and couscous, somehow making a delicious meal with no juice. That night, I was so cold I slept with socks, hat and sweater, and in the morning, too cold to shower, we headed to the Millesime Bio tasting in Montpelier. Enough with the romance and preamble: wine coming up in the next post....

Notes on a Los Angeles Wine Bars Part Scene, Part 2
December 24, 2008
Just when I was about to give up, return to the safety of AOC and settle for the glass of wine and no wine dialogue—unless Manny was installed-- I got a tip on 55 Degrees in Atwater, tucked into a mini-strip mall, shadowed by a Starbucks. Den-like. underneath its eponymous wine store, all seven tables were filled early on a Saturday night. Mike Brosnan poured Valtellina and Chiavennasca (a white Nebbiolo) and talked up the oft-maligned Lambrusco to the small crowd, another crop of millennials. Wine curiosity here was the focus and fuel. There was nothing tangential. The strip mall was no impediment to success. But as Lou on Vine is also in a strip mall, were the best wine spots in the most unattractive real estate? Sandwiched between a Thai Massage parlor and a Laundromat, the interior's reality is so altered by paint and paper that the obvious and seedy is replaced by secret and sexy. (And here I can break the fourth wall of my magazine voice. I discovered Lou last year, 2007, when I was in town for a Vin Italy thing. Loved it. Was thrilled they wanted to do a book event for me, which...

Notes on a Los Angeles Wine Scene
December 24, 2008
On this hot Christmas Eve I find myself thinking about the pieces that never saw the light of day, and find myself wishing I could get on the plane and go to Lou in LA. But instead, I'll give you this post. Seated at the back bar at AOC, which houses one of LA's most celebrated wines bars, I was sipping a Yann Chave Crozes-Hermitage, contemplating the curried cauliflower. I scrutinized another solo diner, Manny. Manny, had a surfer's build, ponytail, Hawaiian shirt and a self-satisfied smile. I was quite certain he had 'duded' the valet who parked his vintage convertible. I was equally sure he was going to order some fat, over-oaked chardonnay. Ready to pat myself on the back for savvy wine profiling, the man flipped my prejudice on its ear as he started to cobble together food and wine pairings. Jurancon for his paté. Loire Cab Franc for roast halibut. The pairings as they continued were so thoughtful and sophisticated, I digested the fact that Los Angeles' wine culture demolished my stereotypes. Watching Manny turned my experience profound, especially when I overheard him saying, "I was an accountant for sixteen years, it almost killed me." He found...

Le Plaissance, St. Emilion and a Chateau Le Puy
September 28, 2008
The last visit of the day was Chateau Le Puy where I saw the Druid stones on its peaceful property. On my second to last day in Bordeaux, on my last visit of that day, I tasted at Chateau Le Puy a Cotes de Francs, on the same rock plateau as St. Emilion and Pomerol. The wines were stunning, at times perplexing. Quite a few provoked sadness that I was spitting, not swallowing. That night, after the Puy visit, after I checked into my inn, after my breakdown about no wi-fi, I had to make a tough choice; go to the local wine bar or the frou-frou resto? I was on assignment for a magazine that would rather send their readers to Le Plaissance, Duty won. Philippe Etchebest's-- a fireplug former boxer of a guy -- presented the best fancy-pants meals I've slipped into in ages. I had been to Le Meurice and Le Crillon, both recently, wildly celebrated. Both wildly disappointing. Those Paris-joints left a food hangover even though I ate parsimoniously. Was it me? Was I just a peasant? In August and September I only want a juicy tomato, a sanding of salt and a drizzle of...

The Return of Airplane Wine (almost)
August 23, 2008
Post 9/11, when I couldn't travel with a corkscrew I decanted wine into a water bottle. After the shoe bomber soured the possibility of carrying liquids onto the aircraft, I had to cotton up to Johnny Walker purchased in chintzy little bottles from the attendant. One night in May, when he was visiting New York I complained about the dry flight issue. Alfonso Cevola, friend and keeper of the On the Wine Trail in Italy blog came to my rescue. In July he sent me a gift. Masquerading as a Dop kid are four spice bottles in water resistant plastic. Each one under 3 ounces. See where I'm going? Tonight I'll board a plane and test drive the possibility--a 12 ounce pour of Steve Edmunds Bone-Jolly. I'll let you know if I get busted. More news from the other side. All right, we never made it on to the plane. I walked by my bag, still in my apartment. Got a whiff of some juice. Damn. Good thing the bottles were in plastic. Back to a martini at the gate and some scotch on the plane. Speak to you later. --A...

Paris: Second Night. Racines
December 16, 2007
Wild man Pierre Jancou's (above) new place, Racines, is in Passage des Panaoramas in the 2nd. Get off at the metro Grands Boulevard, walk past the theater and hang a left. Easy. The operation is not nearly as damned cute as his previous place, Cave Miard. But, still it's kitted out with puce finds (and some rickety tables) and the whole scene made me think of some divorced guy living in a walk-up apartment rather in his usual doorman place. And indeed, Pierre's intense energy is like that of a newly liberated man. In fact, he loves being in the Passages, "It's like being in Paris but not in Paris," he explained. "There are no rules. If we want to put chairs outside we don't have to apply to the authorities." By 9:30 the telephone booth sized resto, mostly a no-sulphured wine sort of place, had filled up with mostly Brit ex-pat clientele who were astutely oggling the wines, including several vintages of Pierre Overnoy's wines, which sat like prized pearls on the top shelves and ordering off the limited Frenchy-peasant menu. Pascaline dived into a plate of charcuterie (lardo fans, listen up) and a very bunny smelling compote...

In Love With Falai
July 18, 2007
Went with Melissa to a little place awash in white tile and formal crystal chandeliers which could be aggrandizing to this little unassuming cafe with yummy food and mercifully no sommelier or wine license (yet.) but makes the place even more charming. The best BYOB in town. Go while you still can. In honor of the terroir that must be saved in Cornas, M graciously ferried in a 2000 Lemencier Cornas, in its last two-three years of glory. We munched on four differed salads, all really delicious, homespun but marked by really high quality ingredients. Of particular note is the smoked mozzarella and endive, the seared tuna, and the simple salad, all sparked up with fresh thyme, oregano and mint. Not that I eat them, but the veal meatballs were on plenty of plates, and I have a feeling they do not disappoint. The tall, thin, shaved headed man from Bologna whose name I forgot and shouldn't have because he is such a sweetheart and brings a terrific warmth and generosity to the resto, is always amused that I bring along my wine glasses. He particularly likes when I shlep the balloons, and he is amused by the wines but...

NYC's Best Wine Store & Wine Bar
March 16, 2007
I was flattered into writing the best wine store and wine bar in New York for New York Magazine Best of New York issue last month. The reason I needed to be pressed into service? I was leaving for France in a few days and would have to drop everything to do research. The other reason I needed to be flattered into action is because I need my byline attached to my writing. It seemed 'off' that New York Mag should want me because I had 'authority' but then tell me the pieces were to run anonymously. As they had a flicker of interest in a wine column penned by me (with my name), I thought, sure, let's relationship build. I filed from France. Did a rewrite. Then was told the Friday before the 'Best Of' issue that it wasn't going to run due to 'space' issues. I like the little snippets. I feel they are valid (however, if I wrote the piece now as opposed to then, the brand new Blue Ribbon Bakery's wine bar, would win 'best of.' Love that place). For those of you study 'voice' here I am in 'magazine speak,' as opposed to the unexpurgated...

Chateaubriand Take Two
February 28, 2007
Le Chateaubriand isn’t as cute or as packed as it was on my first visit in September. In fact, getting a reservation was easy to snare and even on a Saturday night there were empty seats and no 'scene.' I was curious. Had it gone down hill already? In beautiful handwriting, the chalkboard listed the greatest hits of natural wine making. The names got me salivating. Souhaut, D&R, the Morgon boys, every big rock star winemaker from the Loire. In the end they actually had very little selection and most were pretty pedestrian. I realized the staff knew nothing about wine and couldn't care less about wine except they knew that natural was hip. Oh, the wine pretense. Spare me. I was there with Juliette from Gramercy Tavern. After a torturous process we decided on a not badly priced Les Mortiers, (Pineau d'Aunis from Christian Chaussard). Hey, call me silly, but doesn't the kitchen god live in the details? Bread came. This was far inferior to the sour, dense bread of my first visit. On that first visit they brought butter (delicious stuff) unbidden. This time I had to ask. In response I got a sneer of surprise and then...

Pre-Dive: First Night in Le Havre
February 20, 2007
In Paris when I mentioned I was going to Le Havre, no native French speaker knew what the hell I was saying. So I asked the wine importer, Jenny Lefcourt whether my French really was that bad. Turns out my French is worse than even I admitted to. She corrected me. I had to pronounce the town's name with an exaggerated HA as if I was saying Havad (as in Harvard with a Boston accent). So, equipped with proper pronunciation I took the train from Paris-- just over two hours. I booked the same hotel as Dressner and Shawn Mead (his west coast colleague) directly across the street from the train station at the taxi-yellow-doored, 2-star, ultra-cheap Les Balladins. The walls were paper thin, the shower as tiny as an MRI machine but it was smoke and bed-bug free. (Those of you who fantasize and jealousize about my fabulous, glam life as a jet-setting wine writer might want to reread this paragraph.) Because Le Havre is shuttered on Sunday night, we settled on dinner next door, the one with the sepia signage of a bubbie-like-creature ostensibly the restaurant's inspiration. Though we all knew it to be false advertising, our only...

A Wine Bar Cure For the Cynical
February 6, 2007
(This should be a more inspired , but am about to head out to France to taste in the Loire and at the Dive, so postings for the next two weeks are somewhat on hold. See you soon.) On the other hand there is the wine bar attached to the “Down Under” inspired restaurant, Public on Elizabeth Street. You enter "The Monday Room," as you would the restaurant but turn to the left at the reception and enter an alternative universe of leather clubby living room, leaving Public's wee- too- industrial- hipness. Ruben, the super-friendly, super-handsome Spanish sommelier appears like a genie tableside. I wasn’t sold on him at first. Was he really in a Peter Sellers disguise? I was suspicious of his impossibly full mop of hair and furry mustache that I felt could be pulled from his upper lip in one swift pull. Could he really show me anything? I was born a cynic and at that moment the cynic within was not in hiding. But it didn’t take long for me to believe that his silky hair was authentic, it suited him and for him to coax out my inner innocent. It turns out, Ruben is the...

It's Always Flattering To Be Blogged About
February 5, 2007
http://riadzany.blogspot.com/2007/02/moroccan-honey-well-kept-secret.html I guess not everyone was happy about my honey article in the New York Times. It is always a problem.....write or keep what I know a secret. I just hope that the wild honey I write about doesn't get knocked off by those "honey bears."...

My Visit to Prague
December 8, 2006
My friend Elizabeth in Rome wrote to me, “You’re looking for cool things in Prague? But Prague is so uncool!” Well, it is eccentric and that’s cool to me. Where else can I find a town, which consumes more beer than any other country in Europe yet is having a stunning love affair with their own (not that great) wine. Or, what other urban area has a shop in the middle of a city devoted to the necesseray items for bee keeping? But back to the wine. Avoid anything that says National in it. Case in point: The National Bank of Wines, a touted wine store in the Old Town which as far as I can tell is owned by the Monarch winery. Ignorant service. No selection. Do go to Celerius in the Lucerna passage (the deco shopping passage built by Vaclav Havel’s father). However, the wine. If you go the wines to expect are made from Müller-Thurgau, Veltínské zelené (gruner veltliner) Rulandské bílé (pinot blanc) riesling, Rulandské modré(pinot noir), Frankovka (lemberger). I had quite a few with gelatinous texture in a pre-pudding stage, like Ko-Gel (otherwise known as jell-o) in the first twenty minutes of its gelifaction. The mouth...

Busted in Sacramento
November 4, 2006
Ever notice that the smaller the airport the stupider the security? I got busted in Sacramento. This tiny airport had the longest security lines I’ve seen. Having arrived an hour before my flight--enough time for that dinky town--I quickly saw the line would take at least that to get through it. So I did what any desperate New Yorker would do, I jumped the line. Then the little idiot asked me, “Do you have a plastic bag inside your carry on?” "Yes. I do." He opened the bag and with obvious joy of discovery. He started to drool with excitement and pulled out my dangerous toiletry kit, proceeded to discard $60 worth of moisturizer, $20 worth of hair product, but left my Email Diamante toothpaste (The red stuff. I just adore it.) and the most expensive pot of concealer I ever bought in my life (for those of you who care, it’s Kevin Aucoin’s and is worth every cent of $51). Up until that point everything was grand. I had a very exciting visit to U.C. Davis. I felt calm. I felt happy (I know, how crazy is that?). And then this happened and like a grizzly I went...

Eating Paris: The New Le Chateaubriand
October 9, 2006
Word of Chef Inaki Aizpitarte's new spot has reached all of Paris. I tried to get my editor at Conde Nast Traveler to assign me a review for the Hot Tables issue but she said it wasn't 'new' as they didn't change the name. Well, she is so wrong because it is new. Very new. This Basque chef and his food is one of the target reservations in Paris these days. Old name. Old decor. New restaurant. So, it was shocking that on Thursday we were able to get a reservation for Saturday night. My first view of the place was a promisingly huge, rustic wooden bowl of red and yellow striped tomatoes. The sight made me happy. What made me pissed was that when we (party of five) walked in, they feigned ignorance. But we persevered and we were seated instead of being given the boot. We were shoehorned into a table and presented with the 39 euro, three-course menu (three choices exist in each category). In the middle of deciding, Jane Sigal of Food & Wine magazine breezed in to eat. After the shock and the hellos, we settled into our respective seats and menu deliberation. The look...

Is it Time for a Wine Skin?
October 6, 2006
These new security measures are devastating. There is no way to use my trusty trick of smuggling wine onto a plane in my water bottle. The alternative, drinking their wine (American Airlines selections are scary. I mean, I should spend $5 for a split of crap? I would spend triple that for something good) is enough to turn me to spirit---which I really don't warm to at high altitudes. But, at least industrial Johnny Walker is safe, so that's what I ended up with. The night before my flight a friend told me that if I carried something on my person, in my pocket or strapped to my body, I could get away with sneaking some wine onto the flight. I scanned my apartment. I had no appropriate vessel. What I needed was one of those wine skins the Spanish use to drink from at bullfights. I could have slung one (filled with gamay, what joy that would have been) inside of my blouse, as if I were packing a gun. I should have bought one in Rioja. But when I had the chance back in April--back in the good old days of the water bottle trick--the thought of drinking...

Is it Time for a Wine Skin?
October 6, 2006
These new security measures are devastating. There is no way to use my trusty trick of smuggling wine onto a plane in my water bottle. The alternative, drinking their wine (American Airlines selections are scary. I mean, I should spend $5 for a split of crap? I would spend triple that for something good) is enough to turn me to spirit---which I really don't warm to at high altitudes. But, at least industrial Johnny Walker is safe, so that's what I ended up with. The night before my flight a friend told me that if I carried something on my person, in my pocket or strapped to my body, I could get away with sneaking some wine onto the flight. I scanned my apartment. I had no appropriate vessel. What I needed was one of those wine skins the Spanish use to drink from at bullfights. I could have slung one (filled with gamay, what joy that would have been) inside of my blouse, as if I were packing a gun. I should have bought one in Rioja. But when I had the chance back in April--back in the good old days of the water bottle trick--the thought of drinking...

Tocqueville: Wine List Bargain Sighting
August 6, 2006
At Tocqueville the other night (1e.15th Street), silvery marinated sardines got my vote for best of New York. The wine list is not bad. Their strength is the Burgundy list. On it I was stunned to see a 2000 DRC Echezeaux at $295, which is terribly close to its retail price. (The typical restaurant wine list markup is up to 3x retail. I applaud a 2x markup or less. I tolerate 2.5x markup. I walk out of the restaurant at 3x.). This DRC especially caught my attention, because this past week I wrote up a new hotel in Burgundy for Food & Wine Magazine--the quite gorgeous L'Abbaye de la Bussiere in the Val d'ouche. On their list they have this same 2000 on their list for the drop- dead, sticker-shock price of ….. €3800 a bottle...and they're just a few kilometers from the Domaine. True, this is the lowest DRC on the ladder; in fact, many DRC snobs ignore it (this is taking snobbery too far, even for me.). True, it's totally too young to drink, but still, it is Domaine Romanée Conti, and a great chance to snuggle up to greatness at a bargain price. Resisting the call to...

La Cave Café (the Paris spot for les vins sans soufre)
June 17, 2006
I'm trying to write this and everything that pours from me is sounding like a magazine article. Sometimes it's very difficult to turn that voice off. And so, what we have here is a very lack luster entry. It happens. Jenny Lefcourt of Jenny & Francois imports, has set up the wine list at her friend's brand new cafe in the sleepy (but just minutes away from being obnoxiously hip) 18th. She's managed to rig a system to hold twelve unsulfured wines on tap. The wines arrive into the cafe in cask and have a tube inserted which attaches to the spigots. The system floats nitro on top of the wines and there is an apparant lack of contact with wine-killing oxygen. The system seems to work very well. I was just about to get sick (excuses!) which is why I took lousy notes but I would have been very happy just to taste the wines from the system and not crack a real bottle (the bottle I did have was way over oaked, I don't care how 'unmanipulated' it was, it stank. That, by the way was a Saumur-Champigny-- Bobinet, the Amteus. Food is inexpensive and very good--thanks to...

Intro: Fez. Loire. Burgundy.
June 9, 2006
From the moment I stepped off the plane in Fez, it was exotic. I can’t ever remembering an aiport with air this sweet. The landing strip was in the middle of fields and it was filled with late spring and past smells of jasmine. It didn’t take me long to feel naked, however. I wore a jean skirt, knee socks and a sleeveless button down shirt that felt revealing and I felt suddenly naked. This feeling of exposure increased when I walked through the gates of the old city. When you could find a woman, she was in various degrees of extreme coverage and so I felt I needed to buy a sleeping bag to pull over me. By the way, I had one proposal of marriage from one of those who had a modern profession—wedding photographer. Guess he wants to come to the states. Not my type. There is a new hotel, this, in a world where nothing is new; Riad Fez. In fact, it’s almost a style hotel--a total contradiction in this old city where streets don’t have names, items don’t have prices, and you have to yield to donkey and horse. Dinner is one set menu of...

First Stop Fez (http://ww.riad9.com/)
May 28, 2006
I’m visiting my friend Stephen. (he rents, by the way) Check out March’s Elle Décor, where his place is featured. After shopping with SD in the medina for a T&C story, trying to see if anything is going on other than coop wine, buying all things argan and who knows what else, I'll hit the Loire, Burgundy, N. Rhone and of course Paris—where I will check out Jenny Lefcourt’s (of Jenny &Francois) Cavecafé in the 18th. (It's not her place really, just don't know how else to explain it. But she has chosen the wines and is closely connected to the place in other ways.) I might add, the euro is really strong against the dollar. This is going to cramp my shoe style as I return to Romans for a shoe story on the day I am not visiting Bernard Faurie and Dard et Ribo. Which brings me to Dressner’s tasting last week. Held in his office above Astor, I was rude and did the kind of thing that has earned me a scolding in the past: I speed tasted through the wines and zipped out. I think I had to rush up to a shrink appointment or some...

First Stop Fez (http://ww.riad9.com/)
May 28, 2006
I’m visiting my friend Stephen. (he rents, by the way) Check out March’s Elle Décor, where his place is featured. After shopping with SD in the medina for a T&C story, trying to see if anything is going on other than coop wine, buying all things argan and who knows what else, I'll hit the Loire, Burgundy, N. Rhone and of course Paris—where I will check out Jenny Lefcourt’s (of Jenny &Francois) Cavecafé in the 18th. (It's not her place really, just don't know how else to explain it. But she has chosen the wines and is closely connected to the place in other ways.) I might add, the euro is really strong against the dollar. This is going to cramp my shoe style as I return to Romans for a shoe story on the day I am not visiting Bernard Faurie and Dard et Ribo. Which brings me to Dressner’s tasting last week. Held in his office above Astor, I was rude and did the kind of thing that has earned me a scolding in the past: I speed tasted through the wines and zipped out. I think I had to rush up to a shrink appointment or some...

Mueseo De La Cultura Del Vino in Briones (ain't your garden variety Riojan musée de vin)
April 29, 2006
The Wine Museum in Briones does not pander. This is not the Disney-esque of London's Vinopolis or Duboeuf musuem in Beaujolais. This is a wine museum for grown-ups, and for those who are intrigued and entranced by culture and art. The owner and dream weaver for the museum is the owner of the Vivanco bodega, Pedro Vivanco Paracuello who needed a solid home for the collection he obsessively accumulated over the decades. While the exterior of the building could be any faux-California–meets-Spain, kind of building, it is with the thoughtful interiors that local architect, Jesus Marina Pascual struts his stuff. (My tour guide fluttered her eyes, hand to heart, said, ”I am a proud Riojan woman and I am proud that a Rioja architect made this building.” ) The inside is the locus for the action. I adored the huge grape cluster chandelier and the tile work against the gleaming stainless in the bathrooms, from the lapis on the basement floor to the ruby on the main. Lapis bathroom. But bathroom aside, the collection of old farm machines are rare and displayed as dinosaurs in the Museum of Natural History. Also rare are the delicate Roman glassware, tools organized by...

Cascina del Cornale and Madernassa Pears
April 11, 2006
The first time I met Elena Rovera, the mother hen of Cascina del Cornale, the organic cooperative store/agritourismo restaurant on the road between Alba and Asti, we spoke for two hours. I spoke no Italian. She spoke no English. We sat--a phone between us-- her English-speaking friend interpreting. It's amazing how a friendship can be forged when both parties have a shared passion but not a shared language. That was six years ago. Elena has been called the "Alice Waters of Italy." She is not a chef but she is a nurturer, a visionary. Her producers from the group of organic wineries (including the Barbaresco-based C’a Nova and Gavi-based Degli del Ulivi, two of my favorites) are rare and authentic. Whenever I visit her, which is never often enough, she has some plan for me up her sleeve, such as the time she locked me in the room with one of her wine makers (who was abusing his wine with spicy American oak) and instructing me to, “Tell him how to make his wine!” I’m a writer for god sakes, not a winemaker. That one was a delicate situation. On the Sunday pre-VinItaly the restaurant was packed with families...

Italy, First Night. Food. Wine. Le Torri.
April 10, 2006
Zipping along at 140km an hour, we anticipated a timely, two-hour ride from Milan. But, even though the day was mercifully fog-free, we missed the turn-off. Lost in Gravelona. Saved by two fantastically handsome consiglieries who set us straight. Soon, we were on the peaceful (and under construction) road from Asti to Alba where spring had just burst the trees blossoms into popcorn-like fluffs. The air was freshly pollened and the atmosphere seemed scrubbed with lemon juice. Pink hazelnut trees actively bloomed, a colorized backdrop for the still, lifeless vines--a turgid fabric of nature in the making. I hadn’t been in this landscape with its rolling dipping and diving hills in a long time. It was so much more diverse than I remembered. After a salad with Roberta Ceretto at her family's new restaurant La Piola, in Alba, we retreated to our bunker- like accommodations underneath the Ceretto winery at Bricco Rocche, just outside the town of Castiglione Falletto. I thank the Cerettos very much for their generous hospitality. That first night Melissa and I moseyed down the road to the town of Castiglione Falletto for dinner at Le Torri. Being how it was the last day in March, and...

Going To Italy
March 30, 2006
About to leave for Italy in several hours. I usually don't get this personal here, but I got up at 5am to finish a story. Done. Finally, pulling out my suitcase and beginning to figure out the packing situation. Determined to keep things to two pairs of shoes. And realize I just can't disappear on you. Here's what's going on. I'm headed over to research my Piemontese chapter; Looking for Scanavino. Giacomo Scanavino's 1968 Barolo, drunk in 1980 was a wine that changed the wine world for me, forever. Now, (go know), I find out he was a mediocre producer (read: plonk). To me? The wine was crushed rose petals and sandalwood with a fine silty texture and, what can I say? My boyfriend looked over to me and seeing the look on my face, with my nose in the glass, knew he lost me. I hear S. Scanavino is old and sick and I can only hope he grants a visit. If not, there goes my chapter. And I also hope he opens up some of his old wines for me. (And yes, Melissa is coming along and she's really good at charming those older bottles out of the...

Restaurants in Oregon
February 28, 2006
Food in Portland is still terrific. Amongst the most exciting restaurants I've been to is Ripe Family Suppers. Ripe Family Supper began four years ago in the living room of owners Michael and Naomi Hebberoy's rented house. Then it moved to North Interstate Avenue's Gotham Building, where it remained an e-mail invitation-only supper club until last year, when it opened to the public, which by the way, coincided with the couple grabbing the Portland dining scene by the gullet with two other conventional venues. Evidently they are the thin and beautiful couple in Portland that everyone loves to hate, except for their fans, and fans are plentiful. $25 a pop gives you the best meal deal in the country. You have to walk past a whole lot of garbage cans to get to the candlit, yet unlikely place, but I suppose it adds to the off-the-radar ambience. There's one seating. The whole room sits down at 7:30 and you're eating with twenty-nine of your best new food friends. Food is fab. One seating. 30 strangers sit down to eat at the same time (wine extra) very congenial. The star of the night when I was there was actually a simple...

Juveniles Warning/Chateaubriand Changing
February 11, 2006
Because I keep on going to the newer wine bars that focus on my kind of wine, I often neglect what are the classics, or the new classics, like Juveniles, in the 1st Arrondissment (47 rue de Richelieu, 1er, M° Pyramides, tel: 01 42 97 46 49). A number of people have claimed it to be a local favorite. Melissa and I were both sick. We wanted to stay close to home. The place looked cute. We said, sure. Give it a go. Here's the lesson. Listen to clues. First clue that we should have gone elsewhere: a bottle of wine with dinner is double the takeaway price. In other places I adore, such as Le Cave Trousseau, it's a mere four euro more to drink the wine with their food. Second clue: The owner has Torbreck, the Australian producer, bottle a special wine for him. Like affairs of the heart, this wasn't the first time I ignored my instinct. It won't be the last. In the end, not listening to that instinct for a restaurant is much less disasterous than ignoring it in love. There are worse mishaps in the world. But somehow a bust bottle on the last...

Le Muse Vin/Lavinia
February 8, 2006
So much for being able to keep in touch on the road. Felled by a lousy cold and hobbled by lack of hi-speed and wi-fi. This, a bad situation for keeping up with the blog. But now in Paris and last night Melissa Clark and I went back to an old favorite--Le Muse Vin. I am sad to say I can no longer recommend it. The wines at are still great and priced to rock n' roll. They had three Dard & Ribo's, '03 Hermitage for 45 euro, and the '04 St. Jo and Crozes for 25e and 17e respectively--reason alone to go there to get wine---pour emporter! My favorite imp of a guy doesn't seem to be a partner there anymore, they are stricter on forcing you to order a menu (25 & 30 euro, still cheap) but the food seems boring and besides, there was nothing a non-meat and shellfish eater could get. Never-the-less, the St. Joe was fabulous, all chalk and flowers. Terrific vintage. Now, about Lavinia, a wine store on Rue Madeleine I loved. Since July prices on wine have skyrocketed. Almost everything was on par with New York City prices, which makes no sense. My...

Wine Bars in Paris (#3)
November 2, 2005
Le Vin Sobre (25 Rue Fuillantine, 01 43 29 00 23) is in an equally not happening neighborhood (see previous wine bar entry). Sobre is a tiny, potentially adorable, space but it could use a dimmer switch and a designer’s good advice to go along with the decent wine and eats. I was there on a very busy Sunday night-- of course, every other place in Paris was closed. Our waiter ticked me off by assuming I didn’t get the pun on the name (Vinsobres--one of the Cote de Rhone village) and recommending a wine from the Languedoc by a rich guy with the last name of Forbes --a bit too nouvelle for me. He redeemed himself, however, by taking the wine back and putting up with my bad language skills with good humor. The four-top behind me were Brits in the wine biz but most people seemed like non-wine industry folk-- here for the inexpensive drink (natural or unnatural) and the popular and medieval looking cote de boeuf. I barely ate anything, the soup—a big piping bowl of fennel soup and the crusty bread which was exactly what I wanted. The wine list? Solid, nicely stocked with wines from...