11.28.2012

Thanksgiving

Ah, Thanksgiving. A celebration of... well food. We enjoyed a day of snacking, chopping, sautéing and roasting with the smallest group ever this year! For our lovely group of three, we rocked a cocktail pre-party, 2 cornish game-hens, 7 bottles of wine, 7 hours of cooking, 1 home-made pumpkin pie, too many buttery mashed potatoes, brussels salad, crane-sauce n'gravy gravy gravy. Not to mention a divine charcuterie/cheese board to munch on while preparing dishes.




11.21.2012

Secrets in the Sauce

I am notorious for having a poor memory, but one of my fond few from childhood was "being in charge" of making holiday cranberry sauce with my dad. These days, with the family far off in the land of the rising sun, I am left to fend for myself in this delectable Thanksgiving tradition. Not to worry, the process is incredibly simple and fun. Since youth I've varied my recipe to balance sweetness and acidity for optimal pairing potential---Pow!


Boil following magic ingredients in a saucepan for around 20 minutes, until berries have ruptured and liquids have thickened. Can be served immediately or refrigerated overnight.
  • 12oz (1 bag) fresh cranberries (these guys smell just like Burgundian Pinot---give 'em a sniff!)
  • 3/4 cup orange juice
  • 2/3 cup brown sugar
  • 1/3 cup "regular" sugar
  • 1 generous glug Triple Sec (secret weapon!)


Triple Sec is an amazing clear liqueur distilled from Curacaoan oranges. It's affordable, great for cooking & cocktails or chilled on it's own, and has fancy big brothers: Cointreau, Curacao, and Grand Marnier. I had a little locally distilled Triple Sec leftover from summer's fun with sangria, and decided it had to be included in this year's cran-sauce.

Bonus points for making your own: it's quick and easy, can be made a day prior to festivities, often gains an "OMG, you made that?" and is versatile enough that a signature "secret ingredient" or variation---liquor, nuts, apples---is easy to whip up.

Possible cons of home-made cranberry sauce: A dear friend of mine is obsessed with the canned stuff, and insists on eating sliced rounds of jelly directly from the tin. Could result in anger in the absence of canned gelatinous cranberries. Everybody has a vice.

11.16.2012

Urban

Brrr! The streets are all a chill in the rain, but tonight I'm lucky to be comfy and warm inside. Some of my foodie-cohorts joined me for a fabulous coursed dinner at Urban Farmer. Thanks to our lovely server designing his "dream menu" for us, we didn't even glance at a menu! It really is the best way to eat. We were happy to get lost in a menagerie of plates and flatware. There was scrumptious shrimp, elegantly plated cheese & charcuterie, gargantuan scallops, an intermezzo (!), juicy steak, perfectly roasted veggies... and my personal favorite, a stunning cut of foie gras over sweetbreads and soft peach. On and on and on! Don't even get me started on the deserts.


Did you think we forgot about the wine? No way! We grabbed a bottle of 2004 Chablis to kick it off, and moved with leisure on to a few weighty reds: a supple 1995 Mondavi Reserve and the oh-so-steely-love-fest of 2003 Clos de Capucins Chinon---this is, after all, a steakhouse. After ordering a fourth bottle came a lovely Amarone for a grand finale of sweets, and a post-feast shot of espresso paired with Fernet (a tradition I plan to uphold whenever the opportunity presents itself!)



11.06.2012

Gaga for Gamay

Gamay Noir is one of my favorite grapes-turned-wine (remember by birthday party?!). It's a rare find in the states, having first been imported through California just 40 years ago, but is an historically important variety in the old world. In France Gamay is somewhat of a versatile muse. In Beaujolais, we find an array of styles ranging from deliciously effervescent "Nouveau," to the best Cru vineyards creation of serious and strong dry wines. Elsewhere in France, the grape is conspicuous in the Loire Valley, Jura, and Savoie---each of which showcase particular styles from dry and partially carbonic Gamay. 

Beaujolais had a bad rap for a time, mainly due to the American palates' preference toward intense, full-bodied, heavily oaked red wines. Beaujolais Nouveau is the extreme opposite to a hefty Aussie Shiraz. It is airy, fruitilicious, and made for immediate consumption via carbonic maceration for harvest festival every year. What is carbonic, you ask? Simply put, it's the process of breaking down whole berries in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide (carbon-ic!) instead of oxygen. While sugars and acids soften, all the little polyphenols from the skins start transferring color and boosting flavors and aromas inside the fruit. When the berries reach a low alcohol point they burst open, producing refreshingly light and fruity juice that is ready to ferment further!



Another common practice for---but not limited to---Gamay is semi-carbonic, in which some of the fruit is crushed to allow a more usual oxygen-rich, yeast-induced fermentation, while remaining whole grapes continue anaerobic style, without oxygen. For those interested, I found an amazing carbonic maceration "game" by Eric Pearson which makes learning the process super quick and fun.

For the coming winter I'll cozy up with a nice Cru, and dream of warmer days when we're ready to pop open a chilled bottle of Beaujolais. Mm mm.

11.04.2012

Label Lust

While I never buy wine solely for the label, I certainly get giddy over a great design. Check out a few of our recent bottles---featuring stylish and clever branding with juice just as tasty to match (pleasing tongue, nose and eyes!):

"The Raven"
the Bourgeoise gentleman of Bugey.
a toast, to "the little April wine"