2006 Nicolis Valpolicella DOC Classico

My goodness, but there is just something about the delightful refreshment of Italian wine. No jam jars, no claims about "old vines," no labels literally breathing fire or monstrousness or prisons.

A pretty brick-cranberry color -- meaty aroma like rare roast beef -- very light bodied, fresh

Its tannins will not shout "structure" and its acids will not chorus "age me," but it was delicious and different. The blend is made of 65% corvina, 25% rondinella, and 10% molinara grapes. Together, they make the wine named for the place, Valpolicella, in northeast Italy.

A quick brush-up of old homework:

• Valpolicella, Valpolicella classico, and Valpolicella superiore are all wines made from the three native grape varieties mentioned above. Classico indicates a wine made from a smaller and more select subregion of Valpolicella, superiore means the wine has been aged longer and has a higher alcohol content. 
• Recioto della Valpolicella is a wine made from the same three grape varieties, after they have been dried to a concentrated sweetness -- the result of course is a sweet wine. 
• Amarone is a recioto wine, fully fermented so that all that sugar becomes alcohol. (Amarone means bitter.)
• Ripasso is a Valpolicella of either of the first three types -- in other words, not a recioto and not an amarone -- which has been made as usual but then held for two or three weeks in casks still containing the sludge of yeasts and grapeskins from a previous batch of recioto or amarone. It's been "re-passed," you might say, over these old lees. The trouble is, to find a ripasso you must do yet more homework, since Italian law forbids the use of the word ripasso on these wines. Go figure.  

Retail, about $18.

I'll watch Stanley Tucci do (almost) anything -- Vine Talk debuts in April

"Unfiltered," the Wine Spectator's news blog, tells us that PBS will launch a wine-themed talk show called Vine Talk in April, to be hosted by Stanley Tucci. The concept seems to invite the quizzically raised eyebrow and the prediction of rough sledding, but then there's this. If talk shows can revolve around politics, orchestrated family drama, plain pandamonium, celebrity gossip, or just not much at all -- The View, gawdhelpus -- then why not a fine actor and a few chef- or filmdom-guests, plus the audience, sitting, tasting, and discussing wine? "Unfiltered" sums it up:

After PBS’ long and unsuccessful attempt at getting reality-television contest The Winemakers off the ground, [mem: this is where we met author Mark Oldman, of Brave New World of Wine fame] Unfiltered is happy to announce that the good people at public television are giving wine-themed programming another try, albeit in a much different (and hopefully more popular) format. Vine Talk, with actor Stanley Tucci serving as the show’s host and moderator, will be a blend of roundtable chat show and wine tasting. Tucci and his guests—a mix of celebrity actors and chefs as well as wine experts—will exchange thoughts and stories connected with the world of wine, with each episode featuring six wines from a specific region or common grape variety that will serve as the evening’s discussion points. Members of the studio audience will taste the wines as well and a “top wine” will be selected at the end of each episode.

I'm in. There was no one more fun than Stanley Tucci in Julie & Julia, unless it was Stanley Tucci in The Devil Wears Prada. Who knew that he was one of the brothers in Big Night, also about food? Check local listings for details.

More:
VineTalk.com
Time Out New York
Wine Miles
East Coast Wineries (blog)

2004 Used Automobile Parts

The winemaker is Richard Bruno. We met him, virtually, a few months ago, when we tasted his Vinum Cellars Petite Sirah. Used Automobile Parts is a relic of his days with 3 Loose Screws, a part of Don Sebastiani & Sons. This "Napa Valley Red Wine" is a blend of 45% cabernet sauvignon, 25% merlot, 15% cabernet franc, 12% malbec, and 3% petite verdot. (And why a tiny percentage of that grape -- of any grape? I'm told it's for the sake of color. We remember we also recently met the red-fleshed alicante nero or alicante bouschet, used to give color to Belguardo Serrata Maremma Toscana.) Ah so.

Used Automobile Parts, then:

Spice -- cinnamon -- plum jam
leather -- distinctive cedar-y note -- 
sharp kick of acidity at end
 
Very delicious, very California if I may say so. I think it's the cedar that seems to say both "Napa" and "expensive." It could accompany a heavy beef meal, but being of the "very California" style, I think it could also be and is perhaps meant to be a high-powered plum and cinnamon, stand-alone cocktail. Sip appreciatively. Retail, about $60.

Sebastiani and company like to experiment with unusual closures. They close their Hey Mambos and Plungerheads with the Zork, a plastic cap-cork sealed on with a thick plastic tear tab that is very difficult to remove -- with all due respect for innovation, I find the Zork the worst wine closure of all. Thankfully, Used Automobile Parts gets a glass stopper, which for my money is the best wine closure of all. Very sensible. No danger of cork taint, easy to deal with, elegant, unusual, and memorable.

Celebrating Australia Day -- and a chance to win a trip to Oz

YouDon'tKnowOz, the new website designed to help debunk stereotypes about Australian culture, along with celebrity TV personality Jamie Durie, are asking Americans to celebrate Australia Day this January 26th, and try for the chance to win a trip for four to Australia.

The nationwide contest takes place from now through January 31, 2011 and is open to all legal residents of the United States (excluding California and Utah) who are 21 and older. First, everyone is encouraged to visit YouDontKnowOz.com for information on the history of Australia Day, video tips from Jamie Durie on hosting your own celebration, recipes, and notes on how to pair great Australian (or other) dishes with Australian wines. Then, to enter the contest, simply take a picture of your celebration and upload it to YouDontKnowOz.com. Include a clever caption incorporating one or more of the following Australian wine brands: Penfolds, Wolf Blass, Rosemount, Lindemans, or Greg Norman Estates. The winning photo will be selected on February 17th, 2011, and the lucky partiers will be well on their way to claiming their trip for four to Australia, where they'll party in style with Jamie Durie.

Need a little more advice and inspiration? Jamie Durie explains:

I have to add one more item. Perhaps it will spur you on. Do remember that Errol Flynn, whom every normal girl must have adored since remotest childhood, was Australian. Tasmanian, actually. There. If you host your Australia Day party with him as the theme, I will have no objection, and will wish you even better luck than all the other people.

Other websites of interest: Australia Day; Wine Tasmania

Antoinette Pope's apricot meringue sticks, 1948

"It can easily be understood, and perfect results will be obtained if the recipes are followed exactly."

So promise Antoinette and Francois Pope, of the cookbook based on their mid-twentieth century Chicago school (of Fancy Cookery, mind you) titled, sensibly, The Antoinette Pope School Cookbook. These cookie bars, which I imagine must fall under the heading "fancy," are a layer of egg-enriched, cakelike shortbread, topped with almost any kind of jam and baked briefly before being spread with a nut-filled meringue and then finished another fifteen minutes or so in the oven.

You will need, for the "stick" dough:

• 2/3 cup butter (10 and 2/3 Tbsp, or 1 stick plus 2 and 2/3 Tbsp)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• 2 cups sifted cake flour
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 2/3 cup apricot, peach, red raspberry, or blackberry jam or preserves (I used much more -- one to 1 and 1/2 cups)

To begin, lightly grease a 10 x 14 inch jelly roll pan. (A 9 x 13 pan will do in a pinch, and might serve even better.) Cream the butter, add the sugar, and beat for one minute. Add the vanilla and the flour, a little at a time, and continue to beat until smooth. The dough "should be soft but not sticky."

Spread the dough into the greased pan. This will be difficult to do as the dough is very stiff -- the recipe recommends flattening it by placing a piece of protective wax paper over it and then pressing it down with a second jelly roll pan, but doing this surely makes little sense unless you have already spread your dough out fairly well by hand anyway. Wouldn't aggressively pressing a small, thick lump of dough with a second pan simply create a flatter, but extremely dense, small lump of dough? Perhaps I'm all wrong. Perhaps I didn't follow the recipe perfectly and exactly. I simply used a wooden spoon and worked and worked.

Anyway, let us say you have your cookie dough all finished and ready. Now, spread the jam on the surface of the dough. I found 2/3 cup was not nearly enough to meet the needs of a 10 x 14 inch pan. I'm sure I used over 1 cup and I may have used close to 1 and 1/2 cups.

Bake at 400 F for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, make the meringue. You will need:

• 2 egg whites
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 Tbsp flour
• 1 cup chopped nuts

Beat the egg whites "until they cling to the bowl," then add the sugar, a little at a time, and then the flour. Beat well for about 1 minute. Fold in the cup of chopped nuts.

After the dough and jam has baked 15 minutes, remove from the oven and quickly spread the meringue on top. Return to the oven and bake 15 minutes more, or until the meringue is browned. Remove from oven, and when everything is cool, cut into sticks about 1 inch wide and 3 inches long.

And listen carefully to Antoinette Pope, she of the 45-years-running cooking school and the thirteen-years-running television cooking show, who repeats the same advice that many mid-twentieth century cookbook authors give as a matter of fact: "The smart homemaker always has a jar of cookies on hand to be served with tea, coffee, or ice cream when the unexpected guest drops in, or to her family when she has been too occupied to prepare another dessert." There.

• More on Antoinette Pope -- and readers' memories of growing up with her cooking -- can be found from the Chicago Tribune's archives, here.

Three wines from Whitehall Lane

I challenged myself to a sort of blind tasting, desiring to know whether or not I could identify varietals. I deem it a "sort of" blind tasting, because even as I averted my eyes and shifted bottles around, not watching which bottle went to left, right, or middle, of course I could feel by its shape which was the pinot noir. Pouring the other two "blind" was easy -- once I take off my glasses I can't read labels anyway. You will see by my notes how successful I was at identifying anything.

2008 Whitehall Lane pinot noir, St. Helena CA

fresh, herbal, caramel-musk
wet leaves
very sweet, sharp acid right away
earth -- chewy, almost bitter -- tannins?
thin fruit -- hi alcohol? (heat in chest) (14.2%) (11 months in oak)

2007 Whitehall Lane merlot, Napa

little scent
licorice -- acid -- spare --
cab?? merlot
(18 months oak)
opened slowly -- subtle -- balanced smoothness

2007 Whitehall Lane cabernet sauvignon, Napa

dark -- opaque -- black
faint licorice-cedar scent
full bodied -- heavy berry
black pepper -- prickly
firm 
petite sirah? cabernet  
(20 months oak)

As a learning experience, at least on the first night of my private blind tasting, the least interesting of all these wines proved the most interesting: the merlot. I did some reading and found anew the startlingly unflattering things wine writers say of this noble grape. Oz Clarke in Grapes and Wines avers frankly that merlot was always much the secondary player in its home, Bordeaux, where it was and still is blended with the more difficult-to-like but compelling cabernet sauvignon so as to give the latter a bit of "plummy" softness. He avers just as frankly that the main reason merlot began to be vinified on its own outside of Pomerol was because of a 60 Minutes program, broadcast in the early '90s, explaining "the French paradox" to American audiences. Daily consumption of red wine, 60 Minutes reported, accounted for the fact that the French enjoy low levels of heart disease despite also enjoying what looks to Americans like a suicidally high-fat diet.

Show us a new health fad, and stand back. We love them. "Suddenly," Clarke says, "millions of Americans who [had] never drunk wine before [were] queuing up for their daily dose. American consumption of red wine quadrupled within the year. But these were novice wine drinkers. They didn't necessarily like the flavour of red wine very much -- and what they needed was something that was soft, easy, and mild, and yet discernibly, undeniably red -- and one grape fitted the bill perfectly -- Merlot."

Ouch. I'm not sure what or who is getting the worst of it here, the grape or the people. At any rate, while all the best experts acknowledge the exceptions, such as that complex and interesting merlots are made here and there, don't forget Château Pétrus, etc., the rule remains. Merlot is unthreatening because low in tannin and acid, goes down smooth, is lush, velvety, round, fleshy, fruity, and generally all things "soft" and agreeable. "The red chardonnay," as Jancis Robinson describes it. Did I say the evening's least interesting wine proved the most interesting? It's because it's always interesting when wine homework validates your experience of a wine seeming so bland you could think of no more than two words to note about it. This is to cast no aspersions on Whitehall Lane -- all three of these samples struck me as very finely, properly made, crinolined and tuxedo-ed and ready for a formal night out. But it is satisfying to learn, perhaps, why things are as they are. A small, merlotian tidbit: according to our faithful instructors Ron and Sharon Tyler Herbst of The New Wine Lover's Companion, merlot is, correctly, merlot noir. There is a merlot blanc, although current research from the University of California-Davis now suggests the two are not related.

My private tasting, no longer blind, went on for three more nights. That bottle of soft and agreeable merlot is the one that has managed to get itself consumed the fastest. I can't think why. And, after these nights of mellowing beside the cold pantry wall, at an almost perfect cellar temperature, all three wines begin to taste very much like each other. The pinot noir especially has evolved from something musky, leafy, and acidic into a good old California fruit bomb. Tasty, certainly. And so interesting.

Your chance to win a copy of A Discovery of Witches

Welcome to a new giveaway! This time, I'm glad to be able to offer my readers a chance to win a copy of Deborah Harkness' debut novel, A Discovery of Witches. Deborah is a professor of history at the University of Southern California, the author of the nonfiction The Jewel House: Elizabethan London and the Scientific Revolution, and the author of the well-known wine blog Good Wine Under $20. In her first foray into fiction, she brings together Diana Bishop, scholar and descendant of witches, and Matthew Clairmont, geneticist, oenophile, and vampire, and sends them on an adventure investigating a mysterious manuscript unearthed at Oxford's Bodleian library. History, magic, romance, and suspense result. By way of meeting Deborah, you might enjoy this well-made video, in which she discusses what wines to pour for a vampire:
     



For a chance to win a copy of A Discovery of Witches, just add a comment to this post, telling me a little bit about a good book you've read lately. I'll keep the giveaway open for a week, until noon CST next Friday, January 21st. Then I'll pick a winner at random, and the nice people at Viking will send the book out to the winner -- so along with your comment you will have to give me an email address where I can reach you in order to learn your mailing address, which I will pass on to them.

Good luck to all, and just think -- A Discovery of Witches won't be officially on sale until February 8th, so we are all in a sense way ahead of the curve. Here's a brief quote, to whet the appetite:

The leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable. To an ordinary historian, it would have looked no different from hundreds of other manuscripts in Oxford's Bodleian Library, ancient and worn. But I knew there was something odd about it from the moment I collected it ....

Exploring the White House Cookbook: Lemon dumplings with wine sauce, 1887

When last we explored the White House Cookbook, it was to peek in at the wedding lunch of President Grover Cleveland and his very young bride, Miss Frances Folsom, and to admire the White House's taste in wines circa 1887. They served Chateau d'Yquem on that fine day in June, you know. And we vowed that we would move on and actually cook something from this once most popular of American cookbooks. Lemon Dumplings with Wine Sauce sounded interesting, though I did and do wonder if President Cleveland, with his yearning for "a Swiss cheese and a chop" instead of "the French stuff I shall find" would have considered this treat aggravatingly outre. Never mind. Let us pretend we are a civilizing influence on him, and attempt them.  

Mix together in a bowl:

• 1 pint grated breadcrumbs (a pint by volume or by weight? I opted for 2 cups)
• 1/2 "cupful" chopped suet (go ahead and use suet, if you want to be heroically authentic. And what constituted a cupful in 1887? I substituted butter, and reasoned that about half a stick looked right)
• 1/2 cup "moist" sugar (as we say in the vernacular, I'm not even going to go there. What on earth was "moist" sugar? I used sugar.)
• a little salt
• scant 1 Tbs flour
• grated rind of 1 lemon

When you have mixed all of the foregoing nicely -- noting in passing the thrifty 19th-century use of bread crumbs, the better to save white flour for more important uses like more bread -- then, add to the mix 2 eggs, well beaten, and the juice of 1 lemon.

"Stir. put into small cups well buttered, and tie them down with a cloth dipped in flour."

"Boil 45 minutes."

Now here is your challenge. Who among us anymore owns the equipment needed to boil a dozen little ramekins together, each one neatly tied down? It requires a pudding mold to be sure, but not the sort available, for instance, at Amazon.com right now, which seems to resemble nothing so much as a solitary glorified Bundt pan. What does one submerge it in? Anyway our recipe assumes we are properly supplied late Victorian householders, and it moves swiftly on to technique, and to severe admonitions. "Remember that a boiling pudding" -- which a dumpling in a way is -- "should never be touched after it is once put on the stove; a jar of the kettle destroys the lightness of the pudding. If the water boils down and more must be added, it must be done so carefully that the mold will not hit the side of the kettle, and it must not be allowed to stop boiling for an instant."

Yes ma'am. All I can do is assure Mrs. Gillette, our author, that I do know what she is talking about, sort of. Years ago I used to make Boston Brown bread, another old-fashioned steamed pudding requiring a mold and kettle, by improvising with a 1 pound coffee can, tin foil, a piece of string, and a wok with a big dome cover. The bread steamed three hours inside the lavishly buttered can, which joggled merrily in a few inches of boiling water in the wok, and it was delicious when unmolded, cut through with the string, the slices spread with more butter and served alongside Boston baked beans. All in all this made for just about the best use I ever found for a wok, since I'm sorry to say I stand unimpressed by stir-fry cooking.

Lacking all proper supplies now however, I put the lemon dumpling batter into muffin tins, set that in a jelly roll pan, and let it boil as carefully as possible on the stove top. Covered with the "flour-dipped" cloth, which got soaked in the whole process.

"Turn out onto dish and strew with fine sugar." Gladly.

Now, "serve with wine sauce," as follows:

Make a smooth paste of 1 scant tsp cornstarch and the same amount of cold water. Add:

• 1 cup boiling water
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 piece of butter the size of an egg -- (old cookbooks will sometimes simply say "an egg of butter")

Boil 10 minutes. "Remove from fire, stir in 1/2 cup brandy or wine when cool. The sauce "should be as thick as thin syrup."

For all this effort it seems only honest to point out that in 1887, lemon dumplings would have been, not dessert as we might expect, but likely a gentle, delectable accompaniment to the chicken course (number 7 or 8) of a 10- or 12-course formal dinner. Before savoring them, we Mrs. Cleveland's guests would have already eaten the oysters, soup, fish, roast, entree (glazed sweetbreads, perhaps), vegetable, and poultry. After our dumplings, we would pause briefly for the sherbet, and then go on to game, light vegetable salads, then fruits, ice creams, cakes, desserts, bonbons, and finally, always, always -- "crackers, cheese, and cafe noir." Plus all the correct wines and liqueurs.

And for all this effort, let me testify that these dumplings are delicious. If you could fit them into a no-holds-barred weekend dinner, or even use them to eke out a weeknight meal of leftovers, you might get a faint whiff of a memory of how complex and satisfying another era's meals could be.

2008 Preston of Dry Creek sauvignon blanc

Harrumph. For me, the search for a very good sauvignon blanc means a search for more kiwi and grapefruit aromas, more bursting lime juiciness and spiky acidity. Karen MacNeil in The Wine Bible writes that the name sauvignon means "wildness," and that its taste should be just that, wild, "taut," "lithe," its acidity like a "stiletto."  

Which brings us to California samples, and to this one. Nice enough, but not very wild. Rather, a bit soft, round, and sweet, as California sauvignon blancs tend, I think, to be. The whiff of banana candy suggests some time spent in oak, which is exactly what our angry (and hugely enjoyable) mentor Willie Gluckstern, The Wine Avenger, said sauvignon blanc should never be subjected to.

 

Harrumph. Suitable for cooking, I suppose. No offense meant.
Retail, about $18.

About those disappointments

(Recovering from disappointment, below.)

Of course it's important to distinguish between what we don't like and what's actually badly made, and nowadays there is very little wine that is actually badly made. The two wines that follow were, I am sure, very nice and sound, if possibly a little past their prime. Very interesting, too. Just not to my taste. I offer my notes, plain and unvarnished.

2003 Artesa late harvest gewurztraminer, Napa

beautiful amber-gold
aromas: fresh lettuce
celery
sauerkraut
Chinese food -- breaded chicken
water chestnuts
thick body -- prickly acidity
mustard


-- this is not what any sweet wine lover would call "sweet" -- perhaps more like a sherry? -- serve with a salad or appetizers

Gewurztraminer is a grape known for its heady floral smells -- "lychees, tea rose, tropical fruit, black pepper, and the intimate dressing room aroma of Nivea Creme," according to Oz Clarke in Grapes and Wines -- in fact it is curious how often wine writers use theater-and-whorehouse metaphors for it -- so that characteristic may account for the faded vegetable scents in this Artesa. Faded as it should be, because it's a late harvest wine, or faded because this example is seven years old?

Next: 2007 Donna Fugata Anthilia, Sicilia I.G.T. (50% ansonica, 50% catarratto)

golden, honey color -- tawny 
pear -- baked pear  aroma
very  light body -- strong prickly acid
pear pastry finish -- buttery pears

Are we clear that this one reminds us of pears? That sounds good, but the wine also had a harsh edge which might mean "too old," or might simply mean "not for me." Anthilia's 50/50 blend is typical of Sicily, as Oz Clarke goes on to teach us in his Grapes and Wines: ansonica is also called inzolia, is of good quality and "fresh and rather racy at its best;" catarratto can be "crisp and vaguely interesting" if yields are kept low. Both grapes either are or were used in the making of marsala, Sicily's specialty -- and winery Donna Fugata's address on the label reads Marsala (Sicilia), Italy.

2003 Belguardo Serrata -- the pleasure of a good (red) wine

One or two disappointments in the last several days prompted me to look among my bottles for something good. The disappointments were not necessarily bad wines, just wines that were, perhaps, a tad too old, or not quite to my taste. They were white wines, both of them, and they reminded me of buttery pastry and some lettuces and pears and mustard and all sorts of odd harsh things I wouldn't care to drink again -- which is why my rummaging about in my collection for something "good" now meant something red. 

And here it is. Another treat, and an interesting one, from our ancient friends at Mazzei: 2003 Belguardo Serrata Maremma Toscana I.G.T. It's 65% sangiovese, 30% cabernet, 5% merlot. You'll recognize the sangiovese, and the Italian-ness, in the taste of raspberries in olive brine, of a little meat, a little smoke, a little leather, some chocolate and a whiff of licorice (that's oak barrel aging, I believe). All this plus the bright acidity and finishing tannins will make you want to plan some sort of meaty dinner to accompany it. Grilled steak pops into mind, but then grilled steak pops into my mind lots of times.

"Belguardo Serrata Maremma Toscana" is, pardon the pun, quite a mouthful. Like the same producers' Poggio alla Badiola, the wine is essentially saying, "I am not a Chianti." In this case, Belguardo is the estate (purchased by Mazzei in the 1990s), Maremma the area within Toscana (Tuscany). "Serrata," it seems, is a sort of artisanal descriptor intended to signify that Mazzei presents these wines as the best exemplars of the Marema territory. Other vintages of Belguardo Serrata have been mixed of sangiovese, cabernet, and merlot in slightly different proportions; beginning in 2005, sangiovese has been combined with alicante nero. This latter grape appears to be the same as alicante bouschet, first developed in the 1860s in France by M. Louis Bouschet de Bernard. Its claim to fame is its vividly colored red flesh, used to give good color to otherwise pale wines -- "by itself, Alicante Bouschet produces wines that are decidedly unexciting," warns The New Wine Lover's Companion. Perhaps, for a winemaker, blending in some alicante to a sangiovese is a way to plump up the non-chianti, while saving the estate's merlot and cabernet for other purposes.

How to fire up the grill, really

Makes you appreciate modern conveniences. For more, see the page for Hampton Court on the Historic Royal Palaces website, and visit Cooking the Books, an unofficial blog of the Tudor Kitchens Cookery Project.