Taking my own cue from last year, it seems like today, especially given that we're on the eve of New Year's Eve, is an ideal time to take a look back at the year that's about to end. If I'm feeling really inspired, I may pile on tomorrow with a top ten list of wines enjoyed throughout the year. For now, here's a bloggy-blog style review of 2010, chez McDuff.
I started off the first month of 2010, to paraphrase one of my long time readers and fellow bloggers, by opening a big can of worms on the topic of brettanomyces. Not to toot my own horn too loudly but I was also on fire in January when it came to cranking out what turned out to be some of my favorite white wine write-ups of the year, such as Movia Lunar, Montbourgeau Savagnin, Chidaine Les Choisilles, and Thierry Puzelat's Romorantin.
Movia "Lunar," snow and the full moon....
In February, I began to dig more deeply into the exploration of Spanish wines, something I still need to work on in greater earnest, with an in-depth profile of the Ribeira Sacra wines of Guimaro. Likewise, beer began to occupy a more regular and prominent editorial place here at MFWT; my piece on Jolly Pumpkin's Oro de Calabaza was a personal fave (as is the beer itself).
March travels took me to California not once but twice. The first trip was to attend the wedding of my dear friends Steve and Stacy in Monterey (and of course to sneak up to San Fran for a return to Terroir). The second was my first major trade junket of the year, a trip designed to explore the food and wine culture and agricultural traditions of Paso Robles, a highlight of which was a visit to an abalone farm.
There's much more than Syrah, Zinfandel and Cabernet Sauvignon being farmed in the Paso Robles countryside.
After January's piece on Brett, I returned to the exploration of wine science, or more accurately, pseudo-science, with my April piece on chaptalization. Toward the end of the month, I had the pleasure of sharing one of the more memorable meals of the year with old friends, great wines, and Alexis Rousset-Rouard of Domaine de la Citadelle.
My blind tasting skills, not to mention the recuperative and regenerative powers of my palate, were put to the test my second big press junket of the year, Nebbiolo Prima, in May. Like it or not, I've made culturally relevant obituaries something of an accidental specialty here at MFWT. (Of course, just what is "culturally relevant" is entirely up to me.) One of the more colorful of this year's examples of the RIP post was inspired by the May passing of actor Dennis Hopper.
One of my favorite posts of the year (and my contribution to "32 Days of Natural Wine" at Saignée), a profile of Cappellano in Serralunga d'Alba, got the ball rolling in July. From there, it was all 2010 Tour de France, with daily coverage of the race, its routes and corresponding food and wine coverage provided by me and a multitude of wonderful guest bloggers. I'm already looking forward to doing it again in the New Year....
Benoit Tarlant, pictured above showering the peloton with his "Brut Zéro" as they passed through Reims, was among the many guest bloggers who contributed to my coverage of the 2010 Tour de France.
Things kicked back in to gear in September, when the trips to New York continued and multiplied for the onset of the autumn trade tasting season. One of the most purely enjoyable of those events was the Jenny & François portfolio tasting, which you can get a sense of via my two part highlight coverage (part one, part two). A very nice bit of recognition, not to mention lifting of the spirits, came along that month as well, as MFWT was was listed among the Top 5 Favorite Websites as selected by 25 nationally recognized sommeliers in Food & Wine Magazine.
My NYC crusade continued into October, with meals at Ippudo and Otto representing just a couple of the stops among much other researching, feasting and frolicking.
That, folks, brings us right up to the end of the year. My December posts might still be fresh in some of your minds. Just in case, a few of the "highlights" included part two of my coverage of the carbonic vs. terroir tasting, the long overdue return of the B-side report (not to mention a whole lotta Beaujolais), and a quick post on one of my hands-down favorite wines of the year.
I'd say that's a wrap. Thank you, one and all, for visiting, reading, commenting and generally following along with the action here on the "Trail." Here's to a happy, healthy and fruitful New Year. Cheers!
Don Van Vliet, better known—to those that knew of him at all—as Captain Beefheart, died yesterday of complications related to multiple sclerosis. The Captain was 69. There's no way I could improve upon the obituary that's already been written by Ben Ratliff for The New York Times, so read that. And listen to this: the title track from the 1967 album Safe As Milk, as performed for French television in 1980.
Though I eventually came to be a big fan of Van Vliet's own music, I first came to know him through his work with Frank Zappa, who produced what was arguably Captain Beefheart's most influential album, Trout Mask Replica. Though it might be fair to think of Zappa and Van Vliet as peers or joint mentors, I tend to think of them more as co-conspirators. So here's a peek into that side of things, too, via "Willie the Pimp" from Zappa's 1969 release, Hot Rats.
As long as we're all giving thanks tonight, it's important to remember to give thought.
Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson died yesterday. I never met Peter, never even "saw" him. But I sure did listen to his work. Played the hell out of it on the radio in the mid-80s, too. From his formative roles in Throbbing Gristle, to Psychic TV, to Coil, Christopherson was instrumental in producing some of the most influential pieces of industrial, electronic and trance music of the late 1970s through the mid '80s. Looking back, it might be all too facile to write off the canon of those bands as oh so much pretentious oozing. To each one's own, though, as I'd counter that all three of those bands were at the forefront of their respective moments, releasing music that got under one's fingernails and invaded the listener's thoughts then, and that continues to stand as meaningful, individualistic and anachronistic thirty years later.
Coil's 1984 12-inch single "Panic," along with its B-side cover of "Tainted Love," was among the first ever (if not the first ever) records released specifically to benefit HIV/AIDS programs. All profits from the sale of the single were donated to the Terrence Higgins Trust. The video for "Tainted Love," directed by Peter Christopherson, now resides in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
Watch it. Like it or not, give a thought tonight to the memory of the man who made it. And going forward from Thanksgiving toward the year-end holidays, give thought to making a difference, or simply making a contribution, to a local charity, be it for HIV/AIDS or whatever cause is most meaningful to you.
There's no question that I can sometimes be a real prick. Just ask anyone that's worked with me for any length of time over the last handful of years. (I take my work seriously, sometimes too much so. Let's just leave it at that....) Marc Mandeville, one such old coworker, would agree, I suspect. Problem is, Marc can no longer nod his head in knowing assent to such a confession. He died last weekend, finally succumbing to a nearly three year long battle with colorectal cancer. I attended a memorial service in his honor today, along with about 1,000 other of his friends, family members, coworkers, students.... It was not an easy day.
Marc was an occasional part-timer in the shop where I once toiled. He and I worked together intermittently for pretty darn close to ten years. Without hesitation I can say that we were never best friends but that we were definitely friends, and that we each held a deep-seated respect for the other. I can also say that Marc occasionally drove me crazy. Bad actor that I am, I'm sure I let him know it. You see, I'm a pretty quiet guy. Marc, though... I don't think anyone would ever describe him as quiet. That's not a bad thing in his case.
Marc was always full of life. He lived large in the context of whatever he was involved in, but always in a very thoughtful, meaningful way. It didn't matter whether he was helping a customer on the shop floor, working with his students at Episcopal Academy where he taught for many a year, pushing his players on the ice (he was a hockey coach at EA, too), or playing poker with his buddies (so I'm told). His heart, head and lungs were always in it, 100%.
Not long after Marc met with that scary diagnosis in early 2008, he took his motivational spirit to a larger stage, starting a blog (for lack of a better word) at CaringBridge that eventually reached far beyond his family and friends in its impact. No matter how badly he was suffering, Marc was always ready to lend support to other cancer survivors, others in need. Never, at least not in my experience, did he give any sense that the cancer might one day get the better of him.
In the summer of 2008, Marc's brother Pete put together a team for the first Livestrong Challenge held here in the Philly area, a team that would ride in honor of Marc and to benefit cancer survivorship and research all over the world. The following year, Marc, who I'd never know to be a cyclist in spite of his huge sports fanaticism, joined in for the ride. And this year, in the 2010 edition of Livestrong Philly, Marc's team, M-Power, was the top fund-raising squad in the entire event, pulling down over $250,000 in support of the work being done by the Livestrong Foundation. Marc rode along for the first 20 miles of the event, less than two months before losing his life to the disease he was fighting so bravely against. The video below was put together for the awards ceremony held following this year's event. It was motivational enough to begin with. Now that Marc's left us, its impact is all the more emotionally inspiring.
Heading to the services for Marc this morning, I really didn't know what to expect. Given that he'd been teaching at the school where the memorial was held, where he'd had the opportunity to touch so many lives, I should have known there would be a large turnout. But I wasn't prepared for what I found -- as I mentioned before, there must have been a thousand people there to pay their respects. The energy and emotion in the room were incredible. I know Marc would have been smiling, just as I know he'd be happy that I'm watching the Phillies (he was an avid -- no, make that rabid -- Red Sox fan) and sipping a glass of wine while I'm writing this.
There were many meaningful words spoken this morning, many beautiful voices raised. Three of the students at Marc's school performed a rendition of the Leonard Cohen classic, "Hallelujah," in Marc's honor. As much as I respect Mr. Cohen, I'm going to share a cover version of the song with you tonight, as performed by Jeff Buckley, another motivational artist who, like Marc, left us at far too young an age.
Marc was only 37. He leaves behind a loving wife, three children (aged six, three and three), a large extended family and many, many friends. Needless to say, he will be missed.
Sad news is making its way around the vinosphere today. The great Beaujolais producer Marcel Lapierre died last night after a long struggle with illness. I'm afraid I have no more detail than that to share as of yet.
Marcel Lapierre pouring his 2006 rosé at the Caves-Augé Beaujolais tasting, March 24, 2007. (Photo courtesy of Bertrand Celce, Wine Terroirs.)
I never had the pleasure of meeting Monsieur Lapierre, only of drinking his wines. Here's hoping that he passed sans souffrir and that he will rest in peace. I've little doubt that many a bottle of his Morgon — including an '09, chez moi — will be drunk tonight as gestures of homage.
For those in the New York area, there will be a gathering to pay respects and share remembrances at The Ten Bells, tomorrow night, October 12, at around 7:00 PM.
Like most kids in the mid-70s suburban community I called home, I grew up with a bike between my legs. Back and forth to school, after school, especially in the summers off... we built makeshift ramps, rode through the yet to be developed corn/soy/tobacco fields, raced up and down the street and, piloting bikes not designed for any of it, crashed and burned with screaming, scabby regularity.
Like most kids of my generation, high school got in the way. Music, hanging out with a wider circle of friends and all entailed by that, drinking beer, and girls (or at least the idea of girls) all got in the way. The childhood bike, more than put through its paces, went out to pasture, rusting idly in the garage.
When I went off to college in '83, I came back to the bike. Living off-campus — even though I had a car through most of my undergrad years — the ten-speed clunker I picked up gave me a way to get back and forth to class without dealing with parking hassles or forking out for gas (a particular issue during my years in possession of a '70 Plymouth Fury). I'd like to think the idea of exercise figured in there but, honestly, I'm not sure it did. It was a utilitarian pursuit at heart. But once in a while I'd go hands-free, or dig in a little on an ascent, and I'd feel a flicker of the old joy.
It wasn't until the start of my senior year that cycling came back, and came on, with a vengeance. I'd spent the majority of the preceding summer EuroRailing it with a good friend who just happened to have dabbled for a year or two as a bike messenger. I needed a way to earn some dough rather than continuing to sponge off my folks and my pal convinced me that courier work was the way. By that time, largely through the local music community (read harDCore) , I'd become friends with a few other messengers who all seconded the motion.
I didn't take much convincing. I spent the rest of the summer getting my bearings as a rookie bicycle messenger in DC, picked it up pretty quickly as I remember it, and then worked one or two days a week, class schedule permitting, through my senior year. That old clunker didn't last long, rattled and rolled to death on the pothole ridden streets of our nation's capital. An upgrade was due and my first serious bike was forthcoming — a mid-80s Cannondale touring bike. It still sits in my garage, long since converted to a fixed gear commuter. Back then, though, it was a serious workhorse. Continuing on to grad school, I also continued on with the courier gig. Bear in mind, this was prior to the public advent of the Internet. Fax machines were still a novelty. The work was hard but the pay, for what it was, was pretty solid — enough, in fact, to pay my way through graduate school without taking out so much as a dollar in student loans.
Graduate course work completed in '89, I left DC for North Jersey. Why is not part of today's story. Suffice it to say that I left behind the messenger grind, and the daily commute in and out of the city or back and forth to campus. And I missed it. I missed the bike. So much so that I quickly got to know the guys at my new local bike shop, invited myself along on their group rides. I was loving it. One of the guys was a local Cat 2 racer. Another had just started as a Cat 4. It didn't take them long to convince me to give it a try. And the rest is history, albeit a story for another day.
* * *
Laurent Fignon won his first Tour de France in 1983. It was his second year as a pro, his first riding Le Tour, and he won it. He went on to repeat as victor in 1984. Those, it would turn out, would be his only Tour victories, eclipsed by the mighty Badger, Bernard Hinault, the most dominant Tour rider of the decade, and a fellow Frenchman to Fignon.
I graduated high school in 1983, not long before the start of that year's Tour. In turn, I finished my Freshmen year in college not long before the '84 Tour. I hadn't a clue what was going on in the Tour in either of those years. If you'd asked me at the time, I might have known what the Tour was in a vague sense but I had no idea what was happening, who the players were, what it all meant. That wouldn't come until a few years later... '87, '88 and especially '89.
1989. In spite of Fignon's two Tour de France victories, it will always be his glorious defeat in the 1989 Tour for which he'll be most remembered. It's also the first year in which I can remember actually watching any meaningful amount of the Tour rather than just catching the daily placings in the stats section of the paper. While I can hardly say I don't remember watching that ignominious finish of Fignon's on the Champs-Élysées, losing the stage by 58 seconds and the entire Tour by eight to overall victor Greg LeMond, the entire race leading up to that point was just as exciting. I can still remember Fignon fighting it out with LeMond, day in and day out, in the mountains, with one gaining the upper hand on one stage, the other taking it right back on the next.
That's how I expect Fignon would like that year's race to be remembered, not via the unfortunate image of him squirming on his back in the streets of Paris after realizing his defeat. It was one of the most exciting Tours I can ever remember watching, and it was Laurent Fignon, The Professor, wispy ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses and all, who helped make it so memorable. The video clip above should give you a sense of that, even though it focuses only slightly on Fignon. It's long but worth the watch for fans of the era.
Laurent Fignon died last week, on August 31, 2010, to be exact, losing his year-long battle with cancer. I never had the chance to see any of the coverage he did of the Tour as a commentator for French television. Something tells me, though, that it would have been much like his riding style — far more opinionated and punchy than the "old" American coverage you can watch above, though no doubt with his own signature twist of melodrama.
This post goes out to the memory of Monsieur Fignon, and as way of thanks for helping to make my first real taste of Le Tour such a meaningful experience.
The 2010 Tour de France: twenty-one stages, twenty-three days (24 for me... apparently I needed a rest day, too) and twenty-six posts. It's come to its end. Though those three weeks must have seemed like a veritable eternity to the racers and workers of the Tour, for fans like me it can seem the quickest three weeks known to man, over and done with far too quickly.
Calling this year's edition exciting and leaving it at that would be a short sell. It was exciting, but it was also the most open the event's been in years — a little predictable as always but also full of surprises.
I was jazzed to see Alessandro Petacchi return to near-top form, taking the green jersey for the first time in spite of Mark Cavendish's near invincibility in the majority of the sprint stages. There were revelatory performances by former mountain bike pro Ryder Hesjedal (7th overall), Belgian Tour rookie Jurgen Van Den Broeck (5th overall) and, most of all, veteran Chris Horner, who finished 10th overall with next to no fanfare after his team leader (Armstrong) and team heir apparent (Levi Leipheimer) both failed to perform up to expectations.
While I've written periodically of Le Tour de France and occasional other races for as long as I've been musing here at MFWT, 2010 marks the first year that I've actually provided coverage of every single stage, following along with the race route in something approximating real time. It wouldn't have been possible – or at least it would have been much, much harder – if not for help from a bunch of friends, both old and new.
So, here's a big shout out to Jeff, Greg, Dan, Benoit, Jim, Cory and Guilhaume, Wink, Brett, Claudine, Ben, Karen and Joe. I'm not sure I would have made it to the finish without them. You'll find links to their coverage (as well as my own) and their own home sites via the wrap-up list below.
I could never pick a favorite post from the bunch; that would be like trying to pick a favorite wine. Impossible. I am comfortable, though, with picking a favorite photo. It speaks for itself.
The 2010 Tour in review:
Prologue: a taste of things to come, some French, some not
Stage 1: thoughts of a quick Gueuze (or three) after the stage from Rotterdam to Brussels
Stage 1 Revisited: Jeff Appeltans, owner of Go Cycling, on the pleasures of Belgian beer and a tour through his homeland
Stage 2: for which Greg Gaughan kicked out a great culinary and brewery tour of Brussels and environs
Stage 3: one of my favorite beer importers, Dan Shelton, on the history of French farmhouse beers in the Nord-Pas-de-Calais
Stage 4: the first of two consecutive days on which I was forced – forced! I say – to drink Champagne
Stage 10: Bugey-ing out of the Alps on Bastille Day
Stage 11: A day to Die... on which Claudine Knapp shared part of her annual culinary odyssey based around Le Tour
Stage 12: Remembering an old hero, and considering some possibilities as the race crossed the Rhône
Stage 13: A trip through Gaillac country, brought to us by Django-ologist Ben Wood of 67 Wine
Stage 14: Some thoughts on the origins of bubbles and the arguments for cassoulet on the roads near Toulouse
Stage 15: Memories of another hero (this one fallen young), and a lactic diversion
Stage 16: Day one in Jurançon country, in which I dropped the big d-word
Stage 16 Revisited: More on the land of Pau, and a personal journey through the culture of bike racing via Karen Ulrich of Imbibe New York
Stage 17: Posting outside the time limit on the Col du Tourmalet
Stage 18: The stage may have ended in Bordeaux but Joe Manekin took us on a journey SW to Irouléguy
Stage 19: For which I drank classified growth Bordeaux, almost as painful as riding an individual time trial
Stage 20: Dreaming of the past, present and future on the Champs-Élysées
The final podium at the 2010 Tour de France: Alberto Contador, Andy Schleck and Denis Menchov. Predictable, perhaps, but not without plenty of surprises along the way.
I had a great team helping me along the road this year, and I hope to build an even bigger team for next year. Cheers, all! Thanks for taking your pulls and thanks for following along. Hope you enjoyed the tour as much as I did.
When last I wrote about one of the wines of Jacques Diebolt, I brought attention to something I'd only recently taken notice of: a lot number of sorts that now appears in the lower right corner of the front label on all of the cuvées sans années that Jacques produces at his Cramant-based estate, Diebolt-Vallois. (You'll find another example in the picture at right.) At the time, I hypothesized that the code was most likely a reference either to the primary vintage included in the blend or to the year in which the bottle was disgorged.
This time around I didn't want to take a guess, so I went straight to the source. Not to Monsieur Diebolt, no my French just isn't that good and I hate to rely on Google Translate unless I really have to, but rather to Peter Liem.
In addition to authoring the invaluable site ChampagneGuide.net, Peter is a big fan of Diebolt-Vallois and, I believe, a good friend of Jacques. My gut didn't let me down (even though both of my guesses turned out to be wrong), as Peter responded to my query post-haste, letting me know that the code in fact refers to the date of tirage — when the finished still wine is placed in bottle, along with the addition of the liqueur de tirage, for commencement of its in-bottle second fermentation. Using just a year for the code may seem a bit vague but, in this case, it's enough to indicate that the wine in the bottle is most likely based primarily on the previous year's vintage. I'd still love to see a disgorgement date printed on the label as well, but the tirage info is certainly better than none at all.
Champagne Brut "Tradition," Diebolt-Vallois NV $43. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ. Delicately creamy and bursting with fresh red fruits (cherry, raspberry and plum). As with all of the wines from Diebolt-Vallois, this bottle was defined by its elegance, focus and, above all, drinkability. Even though its price has crept into the $40s in the last few years, it still represents excellent value.
My notes from a 2004 visit at Diebolt-Vallois indicate that the cuvée "Tradition" we tasted from vat at that time was a black fruit dominated blend of 40% Pinot Noir, 40% Pinot Meunier and 20% Chardonnay. The wine had a distinct richness and creaminess of texture, perhaps unsurprising given that the wine we tasted from tank on that trip was based largely on the hot, dry 2003 growing season. That creaminess has been a continuous hallmark of the wine, even in many of the subsequent releases that contained a more "typical" blend featuring a higher percentage of Chardonnay and lower quantity of Meunier.
As it happens, the '07 tirage that I enjoyed recently actually marked a return of sorts to a blend like that I'd tasted in 2004, as it is only 25% Chardonnay against 75% Pinots N and M. Thanks to Peter's site (Thanks, Peter!), I can also tell you that the '07 tirage was based entirely on wine from the 2006 vintage. The '08 tirage, which is already available on the European market, apparently marks a return to a more typical blend of grapes (approximately 50PN/40C/10PM) and utilization of reserve wines from vintages in addition to the 2007 base.
The real reason I'm loading you up with all of this technical detail and incantation of encépagement is to point out that I was wrong. And that I am happy to have found myself wrong. When I wrote up that 2004 trip to see Diebolt (it was among the first posts I wrote here at MFWT), I had this to say:
Like at the big Champagne houses, the non-vintage cuvées at Diebolt are made according to a house style. Consistency of flavor is sought from year to year, from bottling to bottling, making the job of the master blender – Jacques himself in this case – of utmost importance.
I'd already been a wine connoisseur for the better part of two decades, and worked in the trade for the better part of one, and I still believed in this widely held principle, one that I now know to be very much not the case. Producers like Diebolt may and do indeed strive to maintain consistency of quality and expression of terroir, but there's no question that their non-vintage cuvées change and morph over time in respect to their unspoken contents.
One of the great joys of wine is that its exploration represents a continuous learning process. There's always a beginning to the journey but, unless you choose to stop it intentionally, there's never an end, at least not short of the grave. One of my coworkers likes to say, and I heartily concur, "There's no such thing as a wine expert. Only beginners and amateurs."
Dennis Hopper died today, just a few weeks past his 74th birthday, losing his battle with prostate cancer. From early roles in Giant and Rebel Without a Cause, to his breakthrough role acting in and directing Easy Rider and on through what became typical roles such as that he played in Apocalypse Now, Hopper was one of the great dark-part actors of our time. And unarguably one of the most memorable.
For me, the Dennis Hopper role that will always come first to mind is one of his darkest, playing the savagely creepy psychopath Frank in David Lynch's Blue Velvet. I can't imagine there are too many regular readers here who haven't seen Blue Velvet, most likely on multiple occasions. For all of you, and for those few who may not have experienced it, here's a clip.
Fair warning: you'll hear more f-bombs uttered in every 30 seconds of this short than have ever appeared, or are are ever likely to appear again, here at MFWT. But that's exactly the word that first passed my lips when I heard the news earlier today. Grab a PBR, raise a toast to the man, and watch it.
I'm going to do a rare thing tonight (for myself, that is) and be a man of few words.
Two people who had subtle but lasting impacts on my life passed away today. One was a man, confoundingly young beyond his years yet long legend in his own field, who will most likely (and sadly) always be remembered more for how he influenced others than for what he did himself. The other was in today's world probably most often associated with something — wine — that I write about here more than anything else. Yet for me, he'll always be indelibly stamped in my memory as the protagonist of one of the most memorable syndicated television series of my childhood years.
Tonight, I say rest in peace Alex Chilton (1950-2010).
We're back from California — five days of whirlwind action leading up to a beautiful finale. While there's no lack of fun posts waiting in the wings to chronicle our stops along the way, first and foremost I want to give an emphatic shout out and a huge, bloggy hug to my good friends, Steve and Stacy.
That's the happy couple below, under the chuppah at the old whaling station in the historic district of Monterey, midway into their exchange of marital vows on Sunday, the be-all and end-all inspiration for the trip. I've known them both about as long as they've known each other. I've watched them grow together, shared some great times with them and was really and truly jazzed to be there to share in their big day, to see them finally taking the plunge after all these years.
The rabbi had a great sense of humor, the groom a constant, just barely held back tear of happiness in his eyes, and the bride an unbeatable smile throughout. It was a really beautiful service.
The reception was a great time, too. I owe a big thank you to my pals Mike and Joe for getting the wines to the party in fine time and in great shape; both were big hits with the friends and family gathered for the day's celebration.
Something old world, something new, something hoppy and some hipster brew....
The bride walked to The Pixies' "La La Love You," an inspired choice, perfect for the day and for the couple. No do-overs needed (you'll know what I mean when you watch the video below). Mazel tov, my friends! Like the guys in the band say, I love you.
Yes, it's the ubiquitous year-end "best of" list. I started and stopped with this post several times over the last few days, thinking it perhaps too self-indulgent. But finally I've decided to forge ahead. For what is blogging, at root, if not an act of self-indulgence? When I write here, even though I hope that others will find some enjoyment or benefit from it, I do so first and foremost for myself. So, without much further ado, here are a few self-selected highlights from the past year at MFWT. Just a couple per month, I promise. Hopefully you too will enjoy the look back.
January 2009 saw the launch of my B-Sides report. What I'd planned as a regular installment turned out to be a one-time deal. I still like the idea, and have a pile of empty bottles and tasting notes to prove it, so who knows what 2010 will bring.
In February, I hosted Wine Blogging Wednesday for the first time with A Passion for Piedmont as my topic of choice. My own contribution was an overview of a February 2006 visit with Giovanni Pasquero-Elia at his eponymous Neive-based estate, Paitin di Pasquro Elia. Even though it's been nearly four years since that trip, there are still a wealth of notes and photos on my desktop from other winery visits that will hopefully make it to blogland in the new year.
Inside the rotofermenter at Paitin.
One of my favorite fellow bloggers, Jeremy Parzen of Do Bianchi, missed participating in February's WBW but more than made up for it in March, writing about one of his favorite Piemontese wineries as the first ever guest blogger here at MFWT.
The stronger my emotional and physiological responses to tasting a wine, whether positive or negative, the more inclined I am to wax poetic (or at least on and on) about it. Two of the most inspiring wines I drank all year passed my way in April: Anselme Selosse's Substance and one of the many great red Burgundies from Jacky Truchot.
My May adventures in ramp foraging were not only fun and eventually tasty but also received attention from outside the usual wine-centered corners of the blogosphere. And in stark contrast to my usually verbosity, I had a little fun with wordplay in the form of minimalistic tasting notes.
Sometimes I can't help but wonder if what makes sense to me makes sense to anyone else, my June post on Laurent Tribut and Pablo Picasso being a case in point. On a more obvious note, were this a post about my top-ten wines of the year there'd be another Champagne on the list, the 1996 "Fleur de Passion" from Diebolt-Vallois.
Mike Dashe, pictured here with his wife and partner in wine Anne, makes the list not once but twice.
I've never been much for New Year's resolutions but if I get around to making some for 2010, one will certainly be to make it to New York on a more regular basis. I made it up far too infrequently in 2009, but one August day trip definitely makes my highlight reel, as it was my first time participating in a Wine & Spirits Magazine tasting panel and prompted my first visit to The Ten Bells.
That's it for now. Thanks as always for reading, commenting and following along with my travels on the Trail. Here's wishing a happy and healthy New Year to all!
I’ve been in a blogging slump lately. It’s not that I haven’t drunk any good wines, eaten any good meals, had any provocative discussions or read anything compelling elsewhere in the blogosphere. It’s just that I haven’t had the inspiration to sit down and put words to paper (or keyboard, as the case may be). I suppose such a slowdown is inevitable from time to time, but I don’t like it. It’s time to break that cycle, my friends. Get back to it. Entropy has its place, but this isn’t it.
Today marks the second anniversary of this thing called McDuff’s Food & Wine Trail. A lot of momentous stuff has occurred here – not to mention around the world – over the course of those two years. Yet a look back at some earlier milestones reminds me of just how little has changed in many ways, and of just how quickly time seems to have passed.
My first post ever was a short announcement about a wine and food event I was hosting. By odd coincidence, I hosted another wine pairing dinner for the very same restaurateur, though at a different establishment, just last night. (Chef Harvey dished up some really good food at Bistro on the Brandywine, by the way. Who knew duck confit would take so well to being deep fried in tempura batter?)
Re-reading the comments on my one year blogiversary posting, I realize that I’ve fallen even more absurdly behind in writing up winery profiles from my last couple of trips to Europe, even though I did manage to scratch a few off the list.
More importantly, I realize that just about all of the people who took the time to comment back then are still hanging around the Trail today. So my thanks go out to all of them, and to everyone who's reading this, for being such steadfast visitors here at MFWT. It would be tough to do it without you.
Two years down and bloggin’…. I hope you’ll stay with me for the third.
I hate to bring it but there’s bad, sad news in the music world. Psychobilly pioneer Lux Interior, lead singer of The Cramps, died at 62 on Wednesday, the result of complications from a pre-existing heart disease. I won’t even try to write a proper obituary; the folks at MTV have already handled that better than I could. I’ll just say that Lux’s lead-man camp and strut, along with the band's wiry sound, made every Cramps show a blast, right down to the last time I saw them – on New Year’s Eve, 1988, with the Butthole Surfers and the Dead Milkmen at DC’s Warner Theatre. And I’ll leave you with two videos (subscribers may need to click through to the blog to view) of one of my favorite Cramps tunes, the first from their real heyday (1981) and the second from when the band was at its peak of “popularity” in the mid-80s. RIP, Lux.
As I'm a better blog reader than I am a news reader of late, I learned of Freddie Hubbard's passing -- on Monday, after a long fight to recover from a heart attack suffered at Thanksgiving time -- via Brother Lyle's post. Sad news indeed. Hubbard's playing style, from tone to attack, made him one of the most influential trumpeters of the second half of the 20th Century. This is a great video of a reunion of Herbie Hancock's Blue Note band from the Maiden Voyage era, playing the classic Cantaloop Island. That's Joe Henderson, not Freddie, in the freeze-frame view of the clip but the video's just too good not to share with you. Even if you don't know Freddie's (and Herbie's) music, you'll recognize the main riff, which was made (even more) popular by the jazz-hop group Us3 in the early '90s. The video ends rather abruptly, as has Mr. Hubbard's life, but features his playing heavily, which is as it should be.
November has been a quieter than normal month here at MFWT. Even if Black Friday is essentially a non-event in small, independent wine shop circles, the cold weather and holiday inspired shopping season has kicked things into a higher gear at work. Combine that with the social demands of the season and I’ve had a hard time of late squeezing the time for blogging into my day-to-day routine.
It’s those “social demands,” though, that can make the Thanksgiving season so meaningful. It can be a time of stress, I know, and a time where losses and absences are more strongly felt. Why, I don’t know, but this year I’ve been thinking a lot about old times.
I’ve been thinking about places that hold a special place in my memories but have sadly been swept away by the times, like DC Space, where I spent many a great night during my teens and twenties.
And I’ve been thinking about old friends, taken away by nature far before their time should have come, like Eva, who was a good friend in high school. She was one of those incredibly and naturally gifted artists that always seem to live and function on a slightly different plane from everyone else around them. She introduced me to the pleasures of a good gin and tonic and taught me to appreciate the depth of soul in the voice of Aretha Franklin. But it’s the haunting beauty of Eva’s own voice that embodies my feelings around the holiday this year.
The Thanksgiving season is a perfect time to appreciate everything that is important to us. Even though it’s obviously been a reflective time for me this year, Thanksgiving is also a holiday I enjoy for the pure joy of sharing good food and wine along with good company. It’s really that coming together with loved ones – to share everything, happy or sad, past and present – that makes it a special time. Some of those happier notes are soon to come. I promise. So thanks for listening.
