Gotham Gastronomy

A Virtual Vase for the Flowers of Food and the Whorls of Wine...

Friday, April 28, 2006

Loire Valley Roadshow

Yesterday saw the annual Loire Valley Roadshow visit the Altman Building on West 18th Street. The tradeshow was a collection of wines from, surprise, surprise, the Loire Valley. Said region is located in France along the Loire River about 200 km from Paris. Some of the more popular apellations include Vouvray, Muscadet and Sancerre. Sancerres are comprised entirely of Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir (DO NOT BOTHER WITH THE LATTER FROM LOIRE... EVER!) However, the major varietals for the remainder of the region are Muscadet, Chenin Blanc, and Cabernet Franc.
Loire is large, very large, so it is difficult to describe to list characteristics, but speaking generally, we can make some generalizations. The terroir is varied, but chalk, schist, and flintrock are abundant. The Ocean Atlantique makes for a generally cool climate, albeit the far northern areas do experience a brief period of intense heat midsummer. Most harvests take place over the course of September.
The region offers reds, whites, roses, and even sparkling wines. The reds are not particularly impressive, but the relatively sweet cousins have a time and a place. The Loire Valley bills itself as the birthplace of the French language, and it very well may be the birthplace of the picnic wine as well.

Back to The Show...
The LVR is a tasting of hundreds of different wines. The majority of the products are unrepresented by wholesalers in large parts of the States, and many are not even imported. In an effort to increase distribution, the event features numerous producers as opposed to Sales drones. Regardless of quality, the opportunity to speak with winemakers is one to be seized. Also of note were the pieces of stone from various terroirs that accompanied the tastings. I seized the opportunity to lick pieces of these minerals in an attempt to identify the corresponding taste in the juice. Surprisingly, the experiment worked well, and I recommend it to anyone who has a similar opportunity, be it at a vineyard or a tasting.
The wines themselves were... Well, there is a reason that many are not represented. Yet, most of the lot were well made, with little chemical supplement, no reverse centrifuges, and none of that Cali Lab nonsense.
They are affordable and simple; these bottles are the type of products that many Europeans drink on a day-to-day basis and we should not become so absorbed in our snobbery as to think that every Frenchmen is quaffing La Tache daily.
Of particular note was J. Mourat, Pere et Fils and Domaine des Herbauges. Unfortunately, they are not yet available on our side of the pond. However, with the weather warming, go to the store, and go out on a limb! Most Loire wines retail between ten and fifteen dollars, pick up a few and take them for what they are. If you do not like the bottle, the loss is minimal, cook with it!

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Good Idea/Bad Idea

Kids, once again it is time for a new installment of Good Idea/Bad Idea.

Bad Idea... The cocktail craze has gone far too far! Yesterday's Daily News reports on Blue Owl's "Gene Tunney" drink. The text discusses the namesake native East Villager who went on to become the heavyweight champion of the world prior to providing an excuse for scenesters to squander their one on an innovative drink. Unfortunately, the drink is not innovative! Adjacent to the article is a list of "ingredients": I ounce Hendrick's Gin, 3/4 ounce dry vermouth, dash of lemon juice, and a lemon peel for garnish.
Okay, first of all, this drink is not a Gene Tunney! It is a martini! Creating an alternative appellation for the godfather of cocktails is asinine and insulting, maybe just stupid.
Further, it is a bad martini. Why so much dry vermouth! Why so little alcohol? Is this a shot? The picture in the paper depicts a 12 ounce martini glass; how did it become so full?
Finally, Hendricks should be enjoyed sans garnish or etter yet, with a cucumber as the manufacturer even suggests. I could rant for hours, but you get the idea; maybe one day, the folks at Blue Owl will also.

Good Idea... Bouchon Bakery! This establishment is no food court. Yes, it is in a mall, albeit the most upscale mall in America. And, yes, it is beneath a giant Samsung sign, but ambiance wise, it is really more like the cafes in Avery Fisher Hall and the Met than a Wok n' Roll. Plus, the views of the Circle and Park are picturesque! Food wise, never has fast food tasted so good. The "cafe" achieves what Au Bon Pain and Pain Quotidien strive for, but never quite attain. Our visit was brief, but the baked goods are not only fresh, but damn near perfect. My companion loved her salad of beet and mache with goat cheese; I sampled the ingredients and they were certainly up to Keller's standards. The quiche is by far the best I have ever experienced.
The service was a notch above other eateries of the ilk. I shall return camera in hand, but for now, I can only complain about the limited hours (5:30 close Monday through Wednesday.)

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Wine Writing, Part Two

Wine Reviews Continued...

The immediate question surrounding the use of these specific registers is simply, “Why?” The query is the easiest portion of the project to address, bordering on self-explanatory. In France and Italy, wine is a staple, considered part of a way of life, but in the US and England, wine is relegated to the realm of luxury goods. Clearly, the invocation of the terminology devoted to other luxury goods, i.e. automobiles and horses is no coincidence. As for the preponderance of sexual phrases in American writing, we can simply state, “Sex sells.” Further, we must keep in mind that the products are inherently sensual and the American phraseology may be crass, but perhaps we do not quite fathom the distinction across the pond.

The next step is a closer read of the writing. Let us take a few reviews as samples for analysis. At random, I pulled the October 15, 1999 issue of WS off of my shelf and turned to their millennial champagne guide. In the sidebar, the publication picked Charles Heidsieck’s Brut Rose Champagne, 1985 as their top selection, and awarded the bubbly a score of 96 out of 100. The text reads, “What a wonderful rose. Puts it all together, with lively balance, creamy texture and lingering finish.” The most striking aspect of this write-up is the utter lack of information provided.

For the sake of discussion, I shall label the frst sentence, Lexia I and the following, Lexia II. Lexia I informs the reader that the writer considers the product “wonderful,” a condition that we have surmised via the numeric ratings. Then, we are reminded that the juice is a rose, a valid insertion as most drinkers do not think blush when they think champagne; yet, we must ponder whether the author is drawing a distinction between rose and champagne. Such a boundary would be technically and practically incorrect, but potentially helpful to Speculum’s readers. The second lexia opens with a shifter of sorts, and we are left to wonder exactly what is put all together. Still, the wine drinker is seeking harmony, and the connotation of the clause is decidedly positive, despite an absence of meaning. Such sentiment is continued through the reference to balance, but the preceding “lively” is curious. Once again, the adjective holds positive connotations, implying, well, life, and once again conjuring thoughts of show dogs, but it does not modify balanced… at all! The notion of a creamy texture is simple and appropriate, and the lingering finish is not specific (dopes it linger for a while?) but the concept is helpful. The choice of “lingering” triggers a subconscious reaction reminding the audience of lingerie, which is always nice.

Sadly, the review does not give us a feel for the wine! Oenophiles tend to break down their notes into color, concentration, nose, taste, and finish…

To Be Continued Once More…

Monday, April 24, 2006

Some Semiotics

Beginning today, Gotham Gastronomy will begin explore some of the deeper issues ingrained in food and dining. The proceeding prose, our initial installment offers a brief overview of some issues associated with wine writing…

Over the past three decades wine has exploded in popularity like a bottle of Krug encountering a saber wielding sommelier. As the wise and powerful Yogurt reminds us, merchandising is always gripping tightly on the coattails of any fad. Along with wine glass marking charms, and sterling silver foil cutters, media has exploited the new market. Be it blogs or the Wine Speculum, tasting notes are no longer the province of small leather bound journals in collectors’ homes; rather, they are the heart of a billion dollar business.
These “reviews” often provide little helpful information for the reader, but a deeper semiotic analysis of said scripts certainly succeeds in offering a complex look into cultures and objectives. The careful reader still may be baffled by a wine that tastes like “a Porsche on the PCH,” but they will begin to recognize some of the psychological underpinnings to the text as well as differences in style and the motives behind such selections. Said concepts are best illustrated by looking at both the British and American wine writing, then seeking out some common themes and possible pertinent explanations.
In English wine writing, certain terminology is recurring. The University of Chicago’s Michael Silverstein examines the writing of Michael Broadbent, and discovers certain linguistic choices which run rampant through the work of Britons. The English borrow heavily in their style from the well established lexicons of gardening and “animal husbandry of prestige bred creatures such as dogs, race horses, etc.” Hence, we read terms like “assertive backbone” as well as personification (maybe “animalization”) via phrases such as “trying hard” or “curious”. The adjectives and phrases used to describe the visual aspects of the vino are often overt comparisons to popular English garden plants. On other occasions, they are borrowed terminology from the field of botany, i.e. straw yellow. (How many modern wine drinkers are truly familiar with the hue of straw?)
The american experiment has yielded an entirely different style better suited to the American Experiment. Robert Parker forever changed the field by popularizing the hundred point system in the early 1980’s. In the States, there is a tendency to question “what’s better?” as opposed to attributing differences to those in taste. The US gave the world Ralph Nader’s Consumer Reports and its straight to the point ratings, and this model was Parker’s inspiration. For, from the Puritanical pulpit on, the national epistemology has been one not disposed towards squandering words which were once considered only God’s domain. Likewise, true to Turner, we are nation of results, and the empirical rating ranks first here; in the American wine review, the focus is on the rating, whereas the numbers are an afterthought abroad.
However, the rise of the point system has not rendered New World writing strictly numeric. Gastronomy is sensual by nature, but American wine writing is downright sexual bordering on graphic, if not crass. Without fail, tasting notes include words such as “probing”, “intrusive”, “penetrating”, “firm”, and “curvy”. (Let’s not forget “seductive”!) The second field invoked is that of the automobile and the language of Road & Driver is virtually ubiquitous in American wine writing. Wines are described as fast, compact, or handling well. The diction is not exclusive to autos, the road itself is represented by references to asphalt, tar, and even the occasional pothole. When any semblance of representation is abandoned, we read of a finish that is akin to downshifting.

To be Continued Tomorrow…

Friday, April 21, 2006

La Fee Verte

If memory serves me correct, absinthe was one of the most popular urban (intoxication) legends of my college career. However, long after the tales of highs from banana skins and morning glory seeds (don't pretend that you don't understand the reference) dissipated, the wonders of wormwood have maintained their allure with age. Recently, I have been fortunate to sample several varieties, and receive a small education on the topic.
Aside from the alleged hallucinogenic effects, absinthe rose to fame in turn of the century France where it was featured in so many of those belle epoque posters that foreshadowed the rise of Absolut ads. Absinthe is an extremely alcoholic liquor that is light green in color (think neon patina), and features an overwhelming anise flavor.
Of course, there is a reason that, say, zambuca does not hold the cache of absinthe. That reason is Artemisia Absinthium or wormwood. The flowers and leaves of this plant are the most famed portion of a mix of florals in the recipe. Wormwood is rumored to cause mild hallucinations known as absinthinium, hence the popularity amongst the college crew.
A second source of attraction is the thrill of the forbidden. By the start of the First World ar, absinthe was illegal in virtually every nation. (Switzerland amended their constitution to include the ban.) Fortunately, by the early nineties, the totalitarian teams of teetollers had been repulsed and Europe began to legalize the product once more.

Where It Gets Confusing...
Okay. So maybe you have a friend who bought the juice back from Prague? Presumably, you then put the sugar on the spoon, used the capillary effect to absorb some water, then caramellized the whole batch in a stunning pyrotechnic display?
That is quite a bit of fun, but really neither absinthe nor the absinthe experience!
Czech absinthe is made from an entirely different process; in fact, it is not even distilled, more flavored or infused.

Actual absinthe is marked by the highly oily content. These oils and aromas are released through louching, or that business with the spoon. Specifically, the absinthe is iced down, and then cold water is poured over sugar on a spoon. Consequently, the saturation point is broken and the oils are released causing a cloudiness in the cup.
Tasting...
However, as I write, it becomes apparent that the best way to understand the liquor is to experience it! Absinthe is actually quite common; many upper end restaurants stock the drink at their bars, and all one must do is ask. Less scrupulous characters than myself have also been known to order bottles online. Either way, like any spirit, there are degrees of quality. My personal favorite is Jade, a company that purchased all of the Pernod equipment, and produces the libation in exact accordance with the original recipes.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Contest!

The past few weeks have been quite busy for Gotham Gastronomy; we promise a Harding-esque return to normalcy shortly, but today we are forced to take the low road. That said... We are proud to announce our first ever contest!
The first reader to email us with correct identifications of the following six images will win a dinner with us, as well as a guest post opportunity to review the experience.

(1)

(2)

(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)

Good Luck!

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

The Tragic Tale of Lamarche

Sometimes, a wine seems like a sure winner, a lock if you will. Such is the case with a 1999, Grand Cru. As readers may recall from such episodes as: Yesterday, '99 was an incredible year for Burgundy, regarded by many as the best in recent history. Echezeaux located in the deep within Burgundy's vaunted village of Vosne-Romanee. Of course, there is nothing village-like about a Grand Cru.
Sadly, there is no such thing as sure-bet, and I would have rathered a Roumier village wine than this Lamarche folly. My cup brimmed over with cacophony! What was this fruit? Why so many tannins? Is that cream? This is not my beautiful wife! Was this wine young or just awful? I imagined that someone had taken of those sets of smells for wine lovers and dumped them into a big vat. The oak presence was proper, but overall the Echezeaux had about as much of a sense of bearing as the pacifier packing party-kids stumbling out of the most recent incarnation of the Limelightl at five on a Saturday morning. Winemaking scion, Francois Lamarche does not confine himself to squandering Echezeaux. No, he also plies his cruel art upon some of the most coveted land East of Grammercy. La Grande Rue, also from Vosne-Romanee is a monopole of, perhaps, the finest land in all of France. Coates reminds us that the 1.65 ha strip shares the same aspect, positioning, and terroir as La Tache; a glance at the map reveals prestigous neighbors such as La Romanee and La Romanee Conti directly across the street. Unfortunately, the Lamarche family is not particuylarly motivated, and their ill tended vines produce 8,000 bottles of disapointment! The yield is often processed into an insolent ink oddly offering big tastes of fruit, weed, and rasberry. Most of all the wines are sloppy; their definition, or lack thereof inspires thoughts of Bill Clinton testifying about sex.
Photo of La Grande Rue from Black Ink

Lamarche seems to enjoy making muscular wines, but the result is a kin to an East German swimmer and entirely devoid of finesse! There are many maxims about great producers and their brilliance really manifesting itself in off years; clearly this does not work in reverse! A poor producer prepares pathetic wines in even the best year! Further, we see that man can not live on terroir alone. Finally, we are offered a manifest moral: the cru system in Burgundy is not based on wines, but land!!!
What is worth is that the glamour associated with the Vosne-Romanee name provides little incentive for improvement. Franc's swill still commands prices over $150 a bottle in many outlets.
However, should a change of heart happen, the quality of the earth should make the task somewhat less daunting for Franc! In between patronizing points, Coates does point out that Lamarche has recently upgraded their casks, and we can only dream about what can be!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Years, A Primer

The little tri-fold business card that I ripped out of the Wine Spectator just wasn't doing it for me as far as understanding vintages; so, I sat down with a som of substance and talked years focusing on wines that are have not already turned.) The following charts contain our conclusions as far as France figures. (Feedback is always appreciated.)

Bordeaux
'00 - Great, but the Prices are Gouged
'96 - Real Nice
'95 - Real Nice
'90 - Real Nice
'89 - Great on the Right Bank
'88 - Good Values
'86 - Real Nice
'85 - Good Values
'82 - Real Nice
'61 - Real Nice

South Rhone
'00 - Okay
'99 - Real Nice
'98 - Real Nice
'95 - Real Nice
'94 - Very Good
'90 - Real Nice
'89 - Real Nice
88 - Very Good
'85 - Real Nice
'83 - Good in Magnums
'78 - Real Nice
'70 - Real Nice

North Rhone
'99 - Real Nice
'98 - Good
'97 - Forward
'95 - Real Nice
'91 - Super!!!
'90 - Real Nice
'89 - Real Nice
'88 - Okay
'85 - Real Nice
'83 - Good
'82 - Good
'78 - Real Nice

Burgundy
Well, good years in Burgundy are great! The vintages listed below are all superb!
'04
'02
'99
'93
'90
'89
'85
'78
'71
'62
'57

Monday, April 17, 2006

Oeuf Again!

In the wake of Easter, what better topic than eggs? Lent traditionally touted a ban on the egg, and the common, commerciallized practices of hunting and painting on Easter are a remaining vestige of a celebration of their return.
As ICA fans know, eggs come in all shapes and sizes, not to mention species from Ostrich to Sturgeon, but we will focus on the common egg, the hen's egg.
Those brown, natural eggs frequently sold for twice the price of their pasty peers are really no different; in fact, neither natural nor organic is indicated by hue. However, the brown eggs are apparently easier to examine in the event that you are buying them direct from the farm. In addition, they tend to house smaller contents.
City markets tend to sell eggs stamped with a two week expiration date, but if stored refrigerated, rounded end up in their crate, eggs will last over a month. Unfortunately, as an egg sits, it loses some of its moisture. Hence, Larouuse Gastronomique reminds us that we can test an egg's freshness by submerging it in salted water, "An egg up to 3 days old will sink to the bottom; an egg 3-6 days old will float halfway up in the water; if it is bad, it floats horizontally on top of the water." The catch being that eggs are like gremlins and once the shell has gotten wet, it should be broken shortly thereafter. (Of course, one should be careful with the sanitation of eggs as they are prone to visits from Uncle Sal!)
Eggs are one of the three products that the government still does the consumer the favor of classifying. The USDA ranks those of the best quality AA, followed by A and then B. The price differences in this hierarchy are minimal and one should always use AA eggs. The official website explains that the ova are also broken into the following weight-based categories: jumbo (30 oz. per dozen), extra large (27 oz.), large (24 oz.), medium (21 oz.), small (18 oz.) and peewee (15 oz.) A visible blood vessel or two is not a sign of fertility, simply an imperfection.
The albumen or whites are useful for in baking. The much denser yolk forms the base of countless sauces and mayo which is oft believed to be a derivation of the early french word for yolk or center, moyu. The yolk and white are connected via tissue called chalaza; the Wikipedia offers up the derivation of the word, "Greek word from "khalaza" meaning hailstone, or hard lump."
Prior Poetic Pondering of the Egg Here

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Bronx Bummer

As promised, Gotham Gastronomy returned to the comfortable confines of The Stadium this week. We took a break from rendering ourselves hoarse root, root, rooting for the Pinstripes as they delivered an offensive clinic to investigate the options for eats and drinks proffered by Centerplate Concessions. The verdict was no surprise.
Note: Of course, those of you sitting in the luxury boxes, the club sections, or the Stadium Club have additional, albeit it not necessarily superior options available. GG shall revisit the beer of bourgeoisie at a later date, but for today, we focus on the Everyman's options.


Beer...
At GG, we prefer the fruit of the vine to hops and barley, but the spirit of the experience discouraged us from ordering a single serving of Walnut Creek. Instead, we opted to immerse our liver in the domestic brew. Our choices were simple, Budweiser or Coors, both offered in Lite [sic] varieties. For the low price of $7.75, one can purchase the former in a twelve ounce, plastic, wide mouthed bottle. (In the interest of national security, the cap is removed for you by the helpful staff.) Nine times out of ten, these containers were warm; in the event you acquire a cold one, that is a cold one, drink it quickly as it will become warm in a matter of minutes!

A better option is the 22 oz. "Jumbo" cup of Coors pictured below. At $8.75, the brew is a buy (sort-of)! At least, it is a bit colder, and a bit cheaper. The taste is, well, lacking, but if one drinks like they vote, often and early, the flavor improves... actually, taste is just less noticeable! Soft Drinks were not much better, selling for $4.50!

Food...

Nothing goes better with a ballgame than peanuts and CrackerJacks. The former (in-shell and salted,) supplied by Bazzini are a bit beneath, say, a Trader Joe's, but more than passable. A bag of the beauties sells for $4.75. After controversy in recent years Cracker Jack is back, but relegated to a plastic and foil bag. (GG is a bit disappointed by the change in packaging as after sixty dollars worth of beer, we enjoy watching the vendors don the empty boxes as hats.) Regardless, the ballpark staple will cost you $5.50 a bag (prize included!)

Other options abound. Another classic, the hot dog is a Hebrew National Dinner Dog, retailing for $4.75. The bun was standard white bread, not stale, but saturated with enough preservatives to preclude the adjective "fresh". My companion commented that the dog was disappointed, though he enjoyed the crispy skin. A bucket of Utz popcorn is $3.00 and perfect for soaking up said suds. Hot pretzels lost their luster under the heat lamp, and I longed for a midtown pushcart after squandering another four dollars. Assorted candies sold for $3.50, but I shall not waste space whining about my dislike for processed milk chocolate.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Jurancon

Last evening, I set out in search of an appropriate wine to pair with such a delightful day. A white seemed an obvious choice, but I preferred something a bit more playful than such Chard standards as Chablis or a Puligny Montrachet. Perhaps, a Gruner or a Riesling? Instead, I was introduced to the oft overlooked Jurancon. Wha-Rhone-What?
Exactly!
Bordeaux is like Bryant Park, replete with tradition and grand chateaus; the region is popular resides in the midtown of the wine of the wine world. Burgundy is more a Grammercy Park; the products are a bit more difficult to access, metaphorically gated, the region is slightly off the beaten path, and the respect the wines garner is largely from those "in-the-know". The Loire Valley provides us the winehattan with its Washington Square. In downtown France, there are lots of jugglers, musicians, and other street performers; most of the circus is entertaining, but not worth a second glass. However, occasionally a gem can be found.
Jurancon is sort of like that little vest pocket park where two avenues intersect... When one walks by, the pedestrian ponders whether the four square foot triangular patch of grass and flowers is even a park, but a little green sign assigns you of the appellation.
In the case in question, that little patch is 40km and located in the Southwest of France between Bordeaux and the Pyrenees; Jurancon roommates in this lush loft include Cahors, Madiran, Bergerac, and Monbazillac. (See map below.) All of these apellations present some fantabulous finds in the price to quality ratio realm, but I digress.
The mountains manifest themselves via frequent frosts in the spring, yet the autumn is awesome, dry and cool. The land is mixed, but according to Clive Coates, we can simplify it into a mix of marl or loam, with gravel, and some large stones.
The major components in Jurancon are Petit Manseng and Gros Manseng. Both Manseng grapes offer more florals than Wave Hill, not to mention an acidity worthy of Energizer! The Petit varietal yields little juice, but much alcohol; the grape is infamous for long vine time and offers a sweeter product.
The taste of the varietals translates almost directly to the finished wine; variables such as terroir and wine making style are less evident Jurancon than most of their peers.
The region produces sweet wines as well as dry, but both are marked by an abundance of fruit, specifically apple and peach, as well as overwhelming florals, particularly green flowers. There is little wood or nutty flavors to be found in a glass.
Historically, Jurancon is respected as the first area protected by the cru system. Further, on December 13, 1553, Henry the Great was christened with a Jurancon soaked clove of garlic rubbed across his lips. His grandfather raised the infant to the waiting crowd and proclaimed, "Here is the lion that is born to the ewe of Navarres.) Three and a half decades later, Henry ruled not just Jurancon, but all of France. French legend professes that this ritual instilled the king with a vigor that never left him... so, Jurancon got that going for it, which is nice!

Some producers of note...
- Domaine Cauhape
- Domaine Nigri
- Clos Lapeyre
- Domaine Bellegarde


Monday, April 10, 2006

Z'Auction

There are many auctions in the wine world, but Zachy's remains the undisputed king of them all; according to their own corporate propaganda, Westchester's finest records sales 81% above their nearest competitor. The lots are consistently diverse in variety as well as price, and personally, I prefer their casual environment inside Daniel as opposed to lines of chairs at Christie's. So, Gotham Gastronomy spent Friday and Saturday at the Z'Auction. Here's the report, kids.

Wine...
Although threat of tax deadlines yielded a slightly slimmer turnout, the bid was brisk and often high (on the midrange items.) However, bargains were manifest for the patient patrons who devoted the necessary time.
But, in the blogosphere bargains are boring, so here are some blockbuster highlights, as well as a few of the more moderate moments...

- Chateau Lafleur 1982 (6 magnums), $50,000
- Chablis Les Clos Raveneau 1992, GC (2 bottles), $1400
- Screaming Eagle Vertical from 1997-2002 (3 bottles each year), $20,500
- Hermitage JL Chave 1989 (12 bottles), $2800
- Chateau Haut Brion 1961 (1 bottle), $950
- Chateau Cheval Blanc 1928 (1 bottle), $2000
- DRC, 2002 (3 bottles), $9000
- Chateau Margaux 1990 (1 imperial), $9000
- Chateau Meyney 1975 (12 bottles) $650

Note: We were happy to see (and hear) Goddess of the Gavel, Ursula Hermacinski, and cult crier, Fritz Hatton; in addition, the Zachy's folk have hired a new hand on the block,. While she had an unfortunate habit of reading lot numbers, but not their contents, we have high hopes that she will grow into the gavel.

Daniel...
There is a reason that Monsieur Boulud's establishment is ranked within New York's top five, and it ain't graft. The luxurious interior has not lost any of its charm and with the arrival of spring, we were treated to perfectly placed tulips adorning the restaurant in such quantity that I can only speculate the Danish GNP has doubled.
Registered bidders were offered lunch for sixty dollars in what amounts to the nicest all-you-can-eat that I've experienced outside of Vegas. (Okay, this jackpot makes Vegas look like the Turning Stone.) A simple chilled pea soup with croutons was followed by an overwhelming selection of charcuterie and terrines. Then, two treats followed. The first was a small reed wheel about three inches in diameter and one inch tall resembling a tuna tartar, placed atop a cracker; in fact, the dish was a "Tomato-Tartin". The second was simply Gravlax. Both of these dishes were extremely simple, but relied on the best ingredients to deliver tastes in their purest form: delicious!
The feast to follow is too much to describe at once, but worthy of note was the salt crusted cod, a classic french preparation delivered flawlessly by Boulud. The beef canelloni with a reduction and wild mushrooms (cepes?) warranted a second serving. The usual short ribs were absent, and in there stead, an equally tasty braised veal cheek with polenta was offered. On the poultry side, a simple bacon wrapped chicken was shockingly succulent, and tender. The accompanying carrots peas were well done, but not particularly exciting.
Daniel's buffet played to the crowd offering quarter sized servings of his trademark DB burger and fries under a heat lamp. The presence of this preposterous device and the fact that this section of the buffet was the only area lacking a server signaled his indifference and one could taste it! The usually overrated and overpriced entree, was underpriced, but still overrated this weekend.

bruni branches out...

bosephus notes...
check this out, at the very bottom of the NYT wedding announcement
re: NBC's campbell brown, it states that "Frank Bruni contributed
reporting from Beaver Creek for this article."
interesting!
the write-up

Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Perfectionist - Pretty Perfect!

Maybe, I have been too affected by my overbearing Jewish parents, but the importance of education has always maintained the house table in my brain's eatery. For a moment, forgetting the Frankfurt School, the principle is pertinent to hobbies, i.e. gastronomy as well. So, today, another book report, err, review...

The Perfectionist
by Rudolph Chelminski

Sadly, Bernard Loiseau is often remembered as the chef who took his own life when faced with the rumors that Michelin was planning to repossess his mecca, Cote d'Or's, third star, but his tragic demise eclipses one of the most significant culinary careers of the twentieth century. In his biography, The Perfectionist, Rudolph Chelminski goes far beyond recounting one man's life and cooking; the author has read his Donne and understands that in order to understand the trajectory of Cote d'Or and its proprietor, we must account for numerous other factors, subsequently, Chelminski provides his readers with an incredible portrait of modern French fine dining.
Much of the work is devoted not to Loiseau, but his peers, rivals, and mentors; hence, we are given an unprecedented peek into the life and works of Paul Bocuse, les freres Troisgros, Ferdinand Point, and Alain Ducasse to drop just a few of the names that pepper the pages. The writer reminds us that each entree and chef is one piece of a complex family tree no different than the development of social thought, music, literature, or art. Likewise, Loiseau's story is intertwined with Michelin and I found the thrity or so pages devoted to these fuhrers of food to be far more enlightening than Pascal Remy's entire tell-all tale.
The research is so thorough that Robert Caro might turn rose after a read. Chelmiski's prose is succinct, yet seductive. He neither settles for a simple journalistic regurgitation of the facts, nor does he fall victim to the temptation to supersede his station by mistaking his work for a grand novel. Recognizing the continental context of his chronicle, he inserts French terms and idioms when necessary, as opposed to watering down the work with weak translations. Most importantly, food and service is described in delicious detail: not an easy task! Translating the sensual to pulp and print is too often a sanitizing process, and while Proust can sleep easy (or not as ROTP explains,) Chelminski performs an admirable job. The description of jambonnettes or black truffle soup was sufficient to inspire a visit to Orbitz in the hopes of finding cheap air fare across the pond. Chelminski explains not just the taste and appearance of plates, but the evolution, preparation, and history of the cuisine.
Perhaps, the most exciting facet of the biography is intangible. Rudolph Chelminski tells a story that is partially concerned with a poor boy searching for fame and love in the city and the country, partially about fine dining, and partially about media pressures. The result is transcendent and a must read for anyone interested in cuisine or a simple Campbell-esque myth.


Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Connerries

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I'm just a caveman. I fell on some ice and was later thawed by some of your scientists. Your world frightens and confuses me! Sometimes when I fly to Europe on the Concorde, I wonder, am I inside some sort of giant bird? Am I gonna be digested? I don't know, because I'm a caveman, and that's the way I think! When I'm courtside at a Knicks game, I wonder if the ball is some sort of food they're fighting over. When I see my image on the security camera at the country club, I wonder, are they stealing my soul? I get so upset, I hop out of my Range Rover, and run across the fairway to to the clubhouse, where I get Carlos to make me one of those martinis he's so famous for, to soothe my primitive caveman brain. But whatever world you're from, I do know one thing -

I know that Frank Bruni's journalistic judgment, if not integrity, is seriously suspect! When I read his three (F'ing) star review of Country, I wonder, "Did he eat at the same place as me?"
And, of course, the answer is not really. You see, over the course of my multiple meals at the same establishment, I experienced no "flawlessly crunchy skin," perfectly succulent meat," or any dish "braised to a lusciousness." I did experience "sucky service," "caustic cauliflower," and a captain who volunteered details of Bruni's visit last Tuesday as cold compensation for a menu and space that was navigated with as much ease as dinghy on a trans-Atlantic journey.
Of course, my photograph does not hang in the kitchen of Country or any other kitchen (save my own.) However, Frank's does. Well, actually, many restaurants refrain from displaying his likeness because the critic is so well known that most seasoned employees recognize him on sight. In the event that the individual is blind, they can still find the Waldo of wordsmiths via vox as FB notoriously calls restaurants for follow-up information himself. One Danny Meyer employee futilely pining for a re-review of Eleven Madison Park explained to me that the trick is recognizing his advance men.
To paraphrase a legendary Hemingway-Fitzgerald exchange, the result is that Bruni is served differently than you or I.
The ensuing question is whether this is a bad thing. From an ethical angle, the answer is resoundingly affirmative. New York magazine's literary laurels largely stem from confusion with the New Yorker, but even in semi-retirement, Gael Greene still refuses to be photographed without a costume. Hell, (s)he's Pat, we don't even know gender. (A lot of people ask, "Who's he? Or she?"... It's time for androgyny!) Of course, the les garcons du Clermont-Ferrand hold their anonymity so tight that following publications, Rushdie felt safer than Remy. A professor at the Columbia School of Journalism explains that in investigative reporting, one should constantly be aware of biased information fed to the press, but identify themselves after the preliminary stages for the purpose of response. (Said approach sound quite a bit like the Michelin method.)
In defense of Frank, it is difficult to hold his position and remain anonymous. But, you can offer our palates something more than lip service!
Admittedly, we must note that on occasion, the Times' tactics work out; Urena was worthy of both stars and their congenial, familial atmosphere involves in-depth interaction with the customers precluding a "hardy" meal faceless amongst the maddening crowd. The concept of the small restaurant with a chef working both sides of the house predates Careme.
However, Zakarian is not Careme, the Carlton is not Urena, and most of Gotham, restaurants included, is not small.
Congrats to Country, but, perhaps, the staff should remove Frank's manhood from their mouths long enough to taste their own food; the other 7,999,999 potential customers in NYC might enjoy some improvements.


RIP Phil.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Gastronomical Gimmicks

New York City has always been a mecca of malfeasance; we were home to Boss Tweed and, hell, Gotham gave the world Times Square. However, the home to the hustle settles for no simple scheme. There is always a hook involved, and restaurants are no exception to the glut of gimmicks. (Just look at Ninja or the now defunct World Wrestling Federation eatery.) So, before you play three card monte with your meal, be weary potential pitfalls.

- Wine Paired by the Course - The key concept here is the idea that each dish receives the perfect pairing. However, in reality, the option offers an easy outlet for restaurants to clear their cellar of slow moving, low-end wines (at an absurd mark-up.) Look at the suggested glasses, often it involves such "sluttly" staples as Apocalypse Now Redux a.k.a. Coppola's Blue Diamond; this vino is so poor that it pairs with little aside form a hangover.
A better option is to actually speak with the sommelier. Generally, a meal can be matched with one white which bridges the early courses and one red that matches well with the mature manifestations arriving after the fish "finale". If foie-gras is involved, it generally warrants it's own wine, in time out of ten, the appropriate partner is a sauternes, tokai, or sweet wine off of the existing glass list.

- Specials - Listen carefully to the special! Is it, well, special? To the point, does this dish involve a rare or seasonal ingredient? For example, king crab legs are special, but baked ziti is not. Even if the captain tells you that the ziti was hand rolled by one armed Jesuit monk after his escape from St. Helena, the bottom line is that the kitchen probably got sick of that Jesuit and is trying to unload some food before it goes stale. Further, legitimate specials are often a means for the back of the house to test new dishes. That sounds great, but as Bruni is so fond of noting, new dishes (and restaurants) often need some work, time to work out the worries and wrinkles. Chances are that the menu has other dishes that are new to you, but time tested to them. If, in fact, you do frequent that restaurant so frequently that the entire menu is passe, then your rapport with the staff should be sufficient to circumvent said shenanigans.

- Country Con - The discussion of new dishes provides a perfect segue to a little scheme receiving much attention on account of M. Zakarian... Here at Country, we change the menu every two weeks.
Please!
Why?
Said statement means that the establishment is always one week from having their shite together!
Hint to Diners: Better restaurants constantly change their menus to account for seasonal ingredients and innovations in the back. They simply do not make a big show of it like the polyester clad used car salesman that Zakarian and shamed sidekick, Doug Psaltis, have become. If you want to eat in a restaurant built on marketing scams, go to the Hard Rock... at least, you can buy a souvenir cup there!

Monday, April 03, 2006

Cedars of Lebanon? How 'bout 'dem grapes?

Last week we sampled some product from Chateau Musar from Lebanon's Bekaa Valley. The house has drawn considerable praise from the likes of Decanter and the Wine Speculum with Serge Hochar even drawing a nomination for Man of the Year from the latter publication. However, I can not help but wonder whether the award was given for the noble task of producing a wine in a land ravaged by civil war or for the actual quality of the wine itself.
I am guessing the former.

The Base Whites...
There are quaffing wines and there are bad wines.
These are bad wines.
They do not warrant any note save "Stay Away!"
At $23.99 a bottle, the 2003 Cuvee Blanc and the 2004 Cuvee Rose were not only some of the worst wines that I have experienced, but frontrunners for GG Opus One Award for OverPriced Wines.

The Base Reds...

Hochar Pere et Fils, 2000 - The second label of the vineyard, this may be their best. The mix of CabSauv, Carignan, and Cinsault* stood up well. The color and concentration were cliche, offering that typical taut, ruby red, syrup. When I heard the phrase, "made in the classic Bordeaux style," I began to shudder and break out in cold sweats. I've been down this New World road before, and it only makes me homesick, well nostalgic for my oenological home in Burgundy. As I swished and prepared to sniff, my digits secured my frame to the tasting table , preparing for the worst, like a first time flyer in turbulence.
However, the assault of oak never quite came. Instead, I got a little tobacco, orange, and leather. The palate revealed cocoa, raspberry, cherry, and understated! tannins. The finish was medium in length and did, indeed, mimic that of a mid-grade Cali wine. True to the promotional nonsense, the vino was evocative of the sun drenched land. All in all, a nice wine with a filet, but not strong enough to support a ribeye; although the suggested price was twenty seven dollars which was roughly on Al-Ham too many.
* (Cinsault is a French varietal with a sweet, grainy flavor; it's most popular roles include Languedoc and Chateauneuf-du-Pape; the grape is often blended with Grenache, Syrah, Mourvedre, and of course, Carignan. Carignan tastes of anise, boisonberry, and pepper. The varietal is popular in warm climates such as the South of France and Spain. It is often mixed with the afore mentioned grapes or simply used to pump out table wine.)

The Reserve...
The upper end of the line, like Boston's original opus, is self titled, but for all intents and purposes it is a reserve. This juice is also mixture of Cabernet Sauvignon, Carignan, and Cinsault.
The two Musar vintages sampled were the same two available for sale currently, the '97 and the '95. An extremely rude rep* reluctantly poured me my tastes and then allowed me the honor of listening as he explained his pricing policy to two (tutu?) other ignorant, but well dressed patrons. Apparently, the house had a debate as to the quality of the individual years spilling over into a sticker snafu. Ultimately, a compromise came about, and both bottles were marked at the same price point, MSRP $65.00. (So, ultimately, a poor decision was made and both bottles were marked forty dollars to high! Sixty five? Have you spent too much time "tasting"?)
Anyhoo, indeed, the '97 is superior to the '95. The former is far smoother and complex, and is far better blended without the back handed slap across the face of too much unchecked CabSauv. However, like most women who have smacked me in the face, the '95 is not so simply forgotten. So, some notes...
'95 - Paraphrasing Parker, this wine spanned the gamut of taste from A to B, but at least it was consistent from A to Z as far as characteristic concentration and aggressiveness. The nose, palate, and finish all feature the same foundations of fruit, berry, game, earth, tobacco, and tannins. The finish was long lasting and added some acidity.
'97 - Here is a textbook case of the differences between a good year and a not so good year. The '97 also featured similar tastes, but in the later vintage they actually worked! The acid was balanced, the earth complimented tobacco and strawberry yielding a sort of boisonberry flavor, and the finish was something to savor not dismiss with water and crackers.* In fact, I believe that this gentleman was the proprietor himself, but, here at GG, we don't kowtow kids.