Eat Up, Drink Up: Malt and Mold Turns One

I first visited Malt and Mold, a Lilliputian outpost of foodie, beery goodness on the Lower East Side, last summer.  I was stopping by to congratulate my friend, Kevin Heald, on his new store.  He proudly showed me his goods (food-wise), and cut me up some delicious salami, spread local butter on crusty bread for me, and gave me a little taste of what he had on tap.  Just because I'm an oenophile, doesn't mean I can't love beer, too.  And, I swear, I was going to blog about how cool it all was, but a year of life got in the way.
But lo and behold, that gave me the perfect opportunity to congratulate Kevin on his one year anniversary! So, I entreat you, dear readers, to head south to 221 East Broadway (at Clinton St.) for their one year anniversary/tasting extravaganza/live music-filled celebration Saturday.  It promises to be an afternoon of delicious fun, including Free Beer Tasting by Goose Island including:

IPA

Imperial India Pale Ale

Minx (Belgian India Pale Ale)

Matilda (Belgian Pale Ale)

Sofie (Belgian Farmhouse Ale - aged in wine barrels - a Malt & Mold customer favorite!)

Pere Jacques (Belgian Trappist style Ale)

Bourbon County Stout (Possibly the finest beer in America)

If you can't make it tomorrow, stop by any time for artisan cheeses, breads, spreads, salamis, and bring your growler to fill.  And, when you go, tell Kevin Diane sent you.

The Woes of the Wineless Luggage

Easy come, easy go, so they say. On the other hand, parting is such sweet sorrow.

When I arrived at the Professional Wine Writers Symposium at Napa Valley’s lovely Meadowood Resort, I was pleased to find that each registrant was given a bottle of wine courtesy of the Napa Valley Vintners. My friend Jennifer and I drank her bottle the first night, glad that we weren’t tempted to open the mini-bar’s bottle of Matriarch at about $300.

But my bottle of Ackerman Cabernet Sauvignon was still intact on the date of my checkout. As was a bottle of Stony Hill Chardonnay, another gift from the NVV bestowed on writers who attended the premier party for their short promotional film “Napa Rocks.”

Curious about my loot, I researched the prices - $75 for the Cab, $42 for the Chardonnay. While traveling writers can’t always take back all the wine they acquire on trips, I figured these were worth schlepping back to New Jersey. Thanks to post-9/11 liquid restrictions, I’d need to check my bag – a $25 fee. Yet, purely on an economic level, I’d still come out $92 ahead. Besides, I looked forward to aging these wines, especially the Cabernet, to wait for them to show more character.

On my last day in San Francisco, I met my friend for lunch and we enjoyed sparkling rosé and a delicious plate of salumi and Cowgirl creamery cheese. We laughed and talked. And talked. A little too long.

By the time I returned to the hotel and loaded my rental car, I was a little behind my already tight schedule. Zooming down highway 101 past the exit for the airport stole another precious ten minutes.

Finally at the rental car drop off, I checked the extra charges – a $20 fee just to ride the airport shuttle to the car rental area? Fuming slightly at this unexpected charge, I settled up and rushed to the over-priced shuttle. As we chugged, chugged, chugged slowly past six other stops, I nervously checked my watch.

I leapt out at Terminal 3 and rushed to the United self service luggage check. It was 3:16 and my flight left at 3.50. “It is less than 45 before your flight. You cannot check your bag” a message on the screen read. I spoke to a check-in attendant who echoed what the machine said. She told me to talk to the curbside checkin. I raced outside. “You can’t check your bag, it’s less than 45 before you flight departs.” “Then why did the other person tell me to come out here?” She repeated, “You can’t check your bag, it’s less than 45 before you flight departs.” I said, “I know, but..” She told me to talk to another United check-in person.

I advanced to a new line and told another blue-uniformed matron of the air, “I am trying to check my bag.” “Oh, well, you can’t check it, it’s less than 45 minutes before your flight takes off.”

I tried to maintain my calm and a modicum of my natural charm, “Yes, I know that. Do you think I can speak to a manager?” An authoritative man with light brown skin and skeptical eyes strode over. “I know it’s less than 45 minutes before my flight, but I’d really like to check this bag. There’s not shampoo in here, it’s more than $100 worth of wine.” This is northern California, I thought, surely he’d understand. “I mean, if you can check your bags at the gate right before the plane leaves, why would it take 45 minutes before the flight takes off to check a bag?”

“We need to give TSA that time so they can check the bags.”

Oh.

I surrendered to circumstances and pulled my bag away. I kneeled on the dirty terminal carpet and dug out my bottles, which I had carefully wrapped in jeans, sweaters, and skirts. I looked up and saw a mild-mannered man of about 40 with his wife, “Do you like wine?” I asked. “Well…” he stammered, probably thinking I was about to scam him somehow. “Look,” I hurriedly unwrapped the treasures. “Here are two very good bottles of Napa Valley wine – this one is worth $75,” I ran my hand along side of it ala Vanna White, “and this one is worth $42.” He stared, still a little confused. “I can’t bring them with me, they’re yours if you want them.” “Well,” he said, “if you’re sure.” “I’m sure – you do like wine?” “Yes,” he smiled.

As he bent down to get his booty, I wheeled my wineless luggage away, knowing that the Napa Valley Vintners Association had just made one couple very happy indeed.

Vosne-Romanee Premier Cru Les Petits Monts - ballerina of wines

We wine writers can be justly accused of taking flights of fancy when it comes to describing wine.

Disclaimer: I will do nothing to improve that questionable habit in this post.

Instead I want to propose a metaphor for the 2008 Vosne-Romanee Premier Cru Les Petits Monts from Domaine Robert Sirugue a Vosne-Romanee. We often speak (to the confusion of "regular people") of wine being feminine or masculine. I'll go one better. Not only is this wine feminine, but a certain type of woman. No curvaceous earth mother here. This wine is a ballerina - elegant, lean, balanced, and ethereal. And, with the fame Burgundy enjoys, she dances on a world stage.

She looks thin - tilt the glass and you'll see the translucent ruby of Pinot Noirs from this chilly climate. But she is not weak - while lithe, there is an inner strength. She knows who she is. Premier Cru Burgundy doesn't want to be big and brash--in certain vintages it is exquisitely delicate. Imbibers who regularly pour California or South American reds may have no appreciation for the restraint she shows. That's a shame, because just as a ballet dancer communicates deep emotion with the smallest turn of her wrist, Burgundy such as this is expressing profound Pinot Noir flavors, but in a delicate way.

While most people will acknowledge the grace of ballet, it's not everyone's thing. And so it is here. But for those people who appreciate subtlety and a centuries-old tradition of beauty, the ballet and this Burgundy are most satisfying.

Just how good was the wine at Cana?

Today Catholics heard a gospel reading that is surely one of my favorites - the tale of the Wedding at Cana.  This gem of a story makes me happy for a number of reasons.  First of all, the New Testament doesn't have many parties, but this is one of them.  Secondly, it was Jesus' first miracle - that gives our favorite beverage tremendous klout from a religious point of view. Thirdly, I love that Mary plays the role of nagging mom and Jesus is the seemingly uncooperative son.  After she nudges him to solve the problem of the wedding party running out of wine, he shrugs her off, "Woman, how does your concern affect me?" And yet, just like many sons, he ends up doing what mom wants anyway, asking servants to fill up jugs with water and then, when they are presented to the wait staff, they have become wine.

But not just any wine.  The headwaiter remarks with surprise that usually the best wine is served early at the event, but they have saved the best wine for last.  I love that normally the degree of how inebriated the guests are is inverse to the quality of what's being served.  But who hasn't experienced the phenomenon of wine, beer, cocktails, or anything tasting much better after the first few drinks have been consumed?  I'm sure it's a technique still used by hosts today, although I like to drink "the good stuff" all night if I can afford to.

I like to fantasize about what the wine at the Wedding at Cana tasted like.  I like to think it was more elegant than what was being made in the surrounding vineyards at the time.  Would it have the finesse of a Burgundy from the best years, perhaps a preview of Domaine Romanee Conti?  Perhaps the masterful power of a first Growth Bordeaux from a legendary vintage?  Once I had a 1973 Riesling that still was as fresh and youthful as a new wine - my dinner companion declared, "This wine just makes me happy!" It could have been a white, after all.

In the States, our puritanical zeal for a "drug-free America" often lands any alcoholic beverage in the same heap as the hardest drugs. But I like to remind anyone who thinks this way that wine is mentioned hundreds of times in the bible, and never more fondly than at the Wedding at Cana.

Zonin Prosecco makes Christmas treats merry

Foie gras, goat brie, shrimp cocktail, celery with onion dip, and a Tillamook cheddar are on the table. Later there will be pigs in a blanket, mozzarella sticks, and loads of other hors d'oeuvres. You never know what may end up being served at holiday cocktail parties. And you might think that no wine could work really well with all of these. But Prosecco is light in body and has a good amount of acid - it pretty much washes down fatty foods with aplomb as well as not overwhelming light fare such as shrimp. It is like a chameleon of wines, seeming to be as right with buttery foie gras as crudités. The Zonin is a nicely balanced choice and with only 11 percent alcohol, it can be consumed easily over the course of the evening. The wine is a great value, too, available for $12 or less locally.

Living the high (wine) life at Shake Shack

The Shake Shack in Madison Square Park is known for long lines and great beef.  But tonight, I discovered a new way to enjoy what many say is Manhattan's best burger.

It all happened when, two drinks into the evening, my new friend said, "Hey do you want to go to Shake Shack?"

We had been having one of those typical Manhattan first dates: chic location, overpriced alcohol, and an unusually good conversation that ranged from Baroque embellishments to waiters who rush you through your bottle of wine.  It was fun, but somewhat de rigueur - until the Shake Shack suggestion came.  This would be a game changer.

The thing is, I make a point of not eating on first dates.  I can't take in the meal anyway when I am soaking in all the physical details of a new person.  But - Shake Shack. Now that was allowed. Not only allowed - encouraged.

It happens to be that before tonight, I had never eaten there.  That's my foodie confession.  I hadn't intentionally avoided it. On warm summer evenings when there was a live band playing in the park, it beckoned to me - hard.  But there was always the line to contend with, and I never wanted to go there.

However, tonight the line was less than ten deep.  It gave me just enough time to peruse the half bottles of wine in the window. And I was frankly shocked.  Clos du Val? And Ridge?  There were no prices listed, but I thought the Ridge sounded fantastic.  A big California red to soak up all the delicious burger grease?  Thank you very much.

And, so, this is how a casual jaunt for what should have been a $20 meal became a $50 plus event.  The little bottle of 2008 Ridge, which was a Bordeaux style blend full of ripe black fruit and firm tannins, was a whopping $32.  Pretty pricey for a "restaurant" that had dysfunctional outdoor heaters and folding chairs where mice scampered in the 50 degree breeze.

And yet.

This was one of those truly memorable meals.  My first Shake Shack burger.  Those crisp wavy potato strips fried to not-quite-greasy perfection. The frisson of first date conversation. And the magnificent Ridge, which shone through the fading lights of the park and warmed me up body and soul.  It was a stellar dining experience after all.

Ceviche Loves Albarino

I know somebody (you probably do, too) who always tells me, "I only like red wines." I always reply, "You need to taste more white wines."  And this skeptic's mind was changed last night by Martin Codax Albarino.

For Americans who drank one too many taste-alike, heavily-oaked Chardonnays, the crisp, zippy, fruity Albarino wine can be a real surprise. 

Now, I believe there's a time and place for many wines, and, food, of course, makes all the difference.  While I could drink refreshing, lemony, sunny Albarino all by itself, or as us wine geeks like to say "as an Aperitif", it's absolutely delicious with fresh seafood, simply prepared.

One of the most wonderful pairings I had was at a recent lunch at Costanera in Montclair, New Jersey. My dining partner and I began our meal with their delicious mixto ceviche, which included fluke, shrimp, octopus, and squid.  The vinegar of the dish and the high acid wine were a refreshing pairing.

The Martin Codax Albarino is laughably affordable and widely available.  I recently poured it at a $15 and Below class at the South Orange Maplewood Adult School, and it was the hit of the evening.

Albarino is a native grape to Rias Baixas, which is in the region of Galicia, Spain, far in the northerwestern corner of the country.  Try it with seafood or by itself when you want a crisp, refreshing white that your friends who only drink reds may just love.