Clips from a Sunday in New York

Just a quick post today.... Had a great time hanging out with friends in New York earlier this week. I didn't take very many pictures this go 'round but thought I'd share a few of the highlights from day one nonetheless.

As unshutterbuggy as I was feeling then, I'm feeling even less writerly today. I should be back in the saddle tomorrow and hope this will tide you over until then.

Trisha Brown's "Off the Wall: Part 2" at the Whitney Museum of Art.

Jacky Blot's Montlouis "Triple Zéro" — a fine prelude to a very enjoyable dinner at Bar Boulud. (I told you I wasn't taking many pictures; had to borrow this one from last time.)

Cornellisen's consistently controversial Contadino: cool, crunchy, crackling... Enough with the seven Cs. Let's just say it was provocative and enjoyable, which also happens to be a pretty good way to sum up the spot where we dug it.

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Wurst und Cheverny

Though I miss it already, it's amazing how much more time I have in the evenings now that the Tour has ended. Take last night. Cooked an impromptu dinner. Bockwurst from Birchrun Hills Farm — mild, delicately seasoned but deeply flavorful white sausages made from Birchrun's own veal and pork. Simmered 'em in Victory Prima Pils. Meanwhile, I crescent-sliced and sautéed a red onion 'til it softened, then threw in a coarsely chopped head of loose-leaf radicchio. Braised them both in a little more of the beer, tossed in a pinch of salt and a generous sprinkling of fresh ground black pepper, then added a dollop of German-style mustard.

The end result? Moist, juicy, tender sausages offset by a slightly sweet, slightly bitter, very flavorful onion and radicchio hash.

Dry German or Austrian Riesling, of course, would have been natural. But I had something waiting in the fridge. Something that'd been biding its time there, beckoning me since a hot night last week when I succumbed to the motif rather than the gut calling and drank classified-growth Bordeaux instead.

Cheverny "Frileuse," Clos du Tue-Boeuf 2007
$15. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
When last I tasted this, it was at The Ten Bells, poured by Thierry Puzelat himself, at a L/D Loir et Cher tasting event. Back then, right around Halloween I believe it was, the wine was tight as a drum, nervy as all hell, and needed a ton of air to show its stuff. Thierry had carafed it, mentioning straight up that it needed the decant to throw off its "burnt rubber" aromas, its reduction.

There's none of that now. Instead, the wine's wide open, very forward and ever so slightly volatile on the nose. The nose suggests citrus and cream. Not at all cheesy. Just a little tangy and sweet, like an icy orange creamsicle. Take that and lace it with intense, broad minerality and the faintest onset of oxidative character. Then you'll have an idea of what I found in my glass last night.

Hard to resist. And damn, damn tasty with those Bockwurst.

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A Return to Terroir

Ever since my last trip to Terroir, I've felt a certain illogical but unavoidable sense of guilt by association. I actually visited twice, on successive days in October 2009, and smack in between those two stops, the place was flooded. What seemed at first to be relatively minor damage turned out to be much more serious, enough in fact to shut down Terroir for long enough that myself and no doubt others began to wonder if the anointed king of San Franciscan natural wine destinations would ever re-emerge from under the wreckage. Luckily, current owners Luc Ertoran and Dagan Ministero persevered, reopening their doors earlier this winter. And happily, I managed a return last week, during a day's trip up to San Fran from our post in Monterey. The guys didn't seem to have held anything against me....

I always seem to end up with at least one photo that I really like when shooting at Terroir. Something about the place must inspire creativity.

In fact, they even had something special open for me (at least that's the way I liked to think about it). Actually, it seems there's always at least one option by the glass at Terroir that's out on the bleeding edge of the establishment's already devout focus on site-expressive wines. Last time 'round it was something orange. This time, it was the 2005 "Savagnin de Voile" from Evelyne and Pascal Clairet's Domaine de la Tournelle, an expression of Jura Savagnin aged under a veil (sous voile) of flor-like, surface dwelling yeasts. Dagan called it a "baby vin jaune." Nearly all of my companions on a mid-Thursday afternoon found it a little too bizarre for their tastes. I called it compellingly delicious, with its intense nose of fino-like oxidative characteristics, oily yellow flowers and crushed, blanched almonds followed up by a penetrating, long-lasting presence on the palate. Very cool juice that, if I understood Dagan correctly, is brought in especially for (and perhaps available only at?) Terroir by Tournelle's importers, Jenny & François.

Yes, that does read "2 x 75cl," what former Terroir partner Guilhaume (not to mention the guys at The Ten Bells in NYC) likes to call a full bottle. Check out Guilhaume's photo-profile of Derain at The Wine Digger. (No more photos, I'm afraid. The Wine Digger has since gone into hiding.)

My friend Joe, he of the Old School, met up with us just as we were finishing our first pours. Knowing that we were there as part of the celebratory preparations leading up to our friends Steve and Stacy's wedding, Joe treated us all to a magnum of "Chut... Derain," a sparkling Aligoté produced by Dominique Derain at his estate in St. Aubin. It went down way too easy. And yes, it's no coincidence that the swoosh on the bottle label resembles the natural curvature of the feminine posterior form. Luc explained the etymology and wordplay involved in the cuvée's name but I can't for the life of me remember the details. You'll have to stop by and ask him for yourselves.


As afternoon all too quickly bled into night and appetites started to flare, I was jazzed to see Spencer on the Go set up their french bistro food truck. I'd missed them on my last Sunday/Monday visits — the Chez Spencer mobile unit feeds Terroir customers and other passersby Wednesday through Saturday from their parking spot in the lot at 7th & Folsom, directly across the street from Terroir. A braised lamb cheek sandwich to go and I was back at the Terroir bar, enjoying my meal with a little taste of Derain's Mercurey rouge, poured for us by Luc as counterpoint to the bottle I'd ordered to close out our visit....


Luc warned me. "Pigeage... barriques... 2005... extracted... tannic... young." Joe just kind of sneered. But I was unstoppable. I'd enjoyed some of the white Burgundies of François Mikulski in the past but had never encountered any of the producer's reds. When I spotted Mikulski's '05 Pommard on the list at Terroir, it stuck in my head. The price was fair, it was an opportunity to explore Burgundy. I had to go for it. But I should have listened. One tough customer, very dark and closed, even a little volatile. Natalie and I, in fact, debated the finer points of the Pommard's aromatic profile, I calling it reminiscent of paint thinner, she in her painterly ways correcting my description with a comparison to the subtler scents of "odorless" mineral spirits. Guess I need to spend a little more time sniffing solvents. I took half the bottle back to Monterey with me and, honestly, it never opened or markedly improved over the course of the next two days. Makes me wonder what its future will bring.

Hey, you can't win 'em all. But you can sure enjoy the trying. I'm ready to go back....

Terroir 1116 Folsom Street San Francisco, CA 94103 (415) 558-9946

Spencer on the Go 7th & Folsom (across the street from Terroir) San Francisco, CA 94103

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Thierry Puzelat's Romorantin

Another stop on the unending trail of trying to puzzle out just what Thierry Puzelat is up to (yeah, yeah, I know...). The more I drink his wines, the more I find that there's a recurring signature, especially in terms of aroma, that carries across his entire line of work, through both whites and reds. I'm not sure I can put into words exactly what that signature is, but it definitely has something to do with a certain wild, savory thread of scents that conjure up everything from the meadow to the rockpile to the cellar. Most obviously, it might be attributed to terroir, to working exclusively with organically and/or biodynamically farmed vines, to the ambient yeasts native to Puzelat's fruit, to his low S02 regime....

I'd say it's all of the above, along with the man's own influence on his end products. And I should add: the more I drink his wines, the more I like them.

Vin de Table Français Romorantin, Thierry Puzelat 2006
$22. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
Puzelat produces tiny quantities of his Vin de Table Romorantin from fruit grown in a flint-rich vineyard near the path of the Loire in the environs of Cheverny and Cour-Cheverny. Dating back to 1905, the vineyard includes vines that were planted on their native rootstock in 1973. The century-old vines and the francs de pied both give naturally low yields (25-30 hl/ha) that no doubt contribute to the wine's structural intensity. Vinified in cask, Thierry bottles the wine 12-18 months following the harvest.

Though I can't say for sure, everything about the wine — its look, smell, feel and taste — suggests that it sees an above average period of skin contact. It's not quite full-on orange wine to look at, but it's definitely richly golden, hinting at peachy in hue. That suggestion of peach (and peach blossoms) carries through on the nose and palate, too, along with intense mineral concentration and a slightly oxidative (not oxidized) character. Sticking my nose in the glass, I'm reminded of Lipton tea, of light orange marmalade, even of Tang. Above all, it makes me think of sucking on rocks — rocks that have been dipped in a bowl of melted orange creamsicles. In spite of all those sweet suggestions, the wine is completely dry. Its medium-bodied, medium-acidity structure carries through Puzelat's signature sweet funk, ending on a chalky, bracing finishing note.

When I met Thierry a few months back at The Ten Bells (where I snapped the photo at top right), he explained to me that some of his wines have indeed been declassified to Vin de Table status by the INAO for their supposed lack of "typicity." In most cases, though, they are labeled as Vin de Table simply because the wines are produced (vinified, cellared and bottled) outside of the area where they were grown and thus are not eligible for AOC designation. With this Romorantin, I believe the latter case is true. Either way, he's not worried about it, as he's built a strong enough reputation that his wines sell at full asking price, with or without an AOC on the label.

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The Ten Bells

The Ten Bells is mysterious.

Not having done a photo study before my first visit to The Ten Bells, I walked back and forth on the short block of Broome Street that runs between Orchard and Ludlow with nary a sign of the place. Literally, that is… no sign. Not even a number to signify the address I’d scribbled on a piece of scrap paper in the wee hours of the morning before taking the early train up to New York. It was only after narrowing down the options then spotting an empty Dard & Ribo bottle as I peered through one of the few unobscured window panes at the spot where I’d stopped that I knew I was in the right place.

The Ten Bells is dark.

It’s one of the few gripes I’d heard about the place. It’s so dark you can barely see what you’re drinking. It’s so dark that I didn’t even bother trying to take my own pictures. (The first two shots here are borrowed, with thanks, from Melissa Hom’s shoot for New York Magazine.)

The Ten Bells is dangerous.

Or at least it would be were it in my neighborhood. If you can squint hard enough to read the wine list, scrawled and crammed onto the chalkboards that flank the east and west walls in The Ten Bells, you’ll find a tremendous array of natural wines from artisan growers, priced fairly and chosen with care by Fifi, Jorge and the rest of the Ten Bells crew.

The stemware may be too tiny to show off the full charms of those wines – about the only other common gripe I’ve heard (or could imagine) – but that makes sense given the marble bars and tight quarters that would wreak havoc on larger, more fragile glasses. It’s also befitting of The Ten Bells vibe. There’s nothing precious about the place. And while there’s a wild wine list, it’s a real neighborhood bar first, a “wine bar” second. The staff behind that bar seemed just as happy to serve up cold beers and shuck oysters on a hot August night as they were to pour glasses of Alice and Olivier De Moor’s 2007 Sauvignon St. Bris from magnum.

My cohort Wolfgang and I agreed that we could drink wines like these – the Burgundy from De Moor and Philippe Bornard’s 2007 Arbois-Pupillin Ploussard “Point Barre” – every day. That Ploussard from Bornard, in particular, was a joy to drink. So brightly hued it could have been fresh-pressed juice; pure, lively and focused, with nothing to weigh down the mind, body or palate.

The food’s no afterthought, either. A lightly smoky, barbecue glazed octopus and potato dish was a standout. Sherry-laced sautéed wild mushrooms, a comfortingly simple dish of brandade, and a generously heaping plate of sliced Serrano ham rounded out a more than satisfying meal, pieced together from The Ten Bell’s small plate menu.

Definitely a dangerous place…. The joint may get crowded as the night wears on, but it’s a good buzz. And as long as they’re serving it up like this, I’ll keep heading back.

The Ten Bells
247 Broome Street [map]
New York, NY 10002
(212) 228-4450

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