1964 Oddero for the Birthday Girl

A birthday celebration for a good friend. Birth year wine, courtesy of her husband. A meal prepared especially for the occasion and the wines by Chef Pierre Calmels at Bibou, one of my favorite restaurants in Philadelphia. Was I to turn down an invitation like that? Hell no! It was an honor and pleasure to join in for the festivities.

While the anticipated bottles of the night waited in the wings, we got things rolling with some fantastic grower Champagne from Laherte Frères (more on that at a later date).

Chef Calmels' trout gravlax — diced, ringed with cucumber, drizzled with basil vinegar, and topped with baby mustard greens — was one of the stand-out dishes of the night and a lovely match with our bubbly. After another course or two (corn soup with duck prosciutto, a terrine of sweetbreads), it was time to visit the birthday girl's wines.

All I can say is, "Thanks, Kelly, for being born in a good year." I'm a year younger (I'll leave the math to you, kind reader) and was not so lucky. In fact, I've yet to even have a wine from my own birth year, generally considered fair at best, more often bad to worse, in just about every wine growing region on the planet.

These '64s from Oddero, though, were drinking impressively well. My pal Bill had picked them up, especially for Kelly's birthday, from a shop that occasionally buys and sells wines from private collections. While the corks in both were showing their age, crumbling upon extraction, both wines were startlingly young in both appearance and structure.

The 1964 Barbaresco, I think we all agreed, was the wine of the night, still showing a dark red, only slightly going-to-garnet color in the glass; a rich, supple texture; and fruit tones that started out surprisingly primary then took on aromas of spice, roses and dried red fruits with air. The '64 Barolo, in comparison, was a touch darker, similarly evolved but much more brooding and animal in its aromas and textures, showing even greater overall youth and, as expected, more muscular structure. Both wines were a joy to experience but both, I feel, could easily have continued to develop for another couple of decades (though perhaps not without being re-corked).

Of the dishes that Pierre matched to the old Barbaresco and Barolo, my favorite was a last-minute surprise: veal ribeye and baby brussel sprouts on a bed of white bean purée and veal jus. Executed perfectly, the dish was a very fine match with the aromatic complexity and mid-life structure of our two Nebbioli.

Having been clued-in to the birthday girl's surprise, I'd brought along a much younger bottle from Oddero, their 2006 Barbaresco "Gallina." You know, simply for academic purposes. It, too, was on a good night, pure and vibrant, as surprisingly approachable in its near-sinful youth as the '64s were surprisingly youthful in their... well, like I said, you can do the math.

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Parker Rants at Bibou's Expense

Consider a recent statement from a regarded critic:

"...the food was as great a bistro fare as one can imagine...the snail ragout, boudin noir, terrine en crout, out-of-this-world beef marrow bones as well as superb stuffed pig's feet with foie gras over a bed of black lentils had me in Rabelaisien Nirvana."

Then consider this:

"...better yet [there was] no precious sommelier trying to sell us some teeth enamel removing wine with acid levels close to toxic, made by some sheep farmer on the north side of his 4,000-foot foot elevation vineyard picked two months before ripeness, and made from a grape better fed to wild boar than the human species....we all know the type-saving the world from drinking good wine in the name of vinofreakism."

Seems kind of hard to believe they were uttered by the same person yet they were, by none other than the wine advocate himself, Robert Parker. Apparently, Parker dined a few nights ago at one of my favorite restaurants in Philadelphia, Bibou. That's him in the photo (above right), arms draped over the couple behind Bibou, Charlotte and Pierre Calmels. You can view the photo and quotes above, along with a laundry list of what Parker drank, in their original context at Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Michael Klein's blog, The Insider.

What really strikes me about the above diatribe is not so much the obvious case of diarrhea of the mouth but rather the fact that Robert Parker found it necessary to turn a simple moment — a photo op and a chance to send some much deserved praise the way of an excellent neighborhood bistro — into a self-serving opportunity to protect his own crumbling hegemony. What he's trying to protect against, lest I've left you scratching your head, is from what he obviously views as the culprit of his seemingly waning influence: the conversely increasing influence, erosive as Parker apparently views it, of independently voiced — and often freely disseminated — current trends in wine thought. Clearly, the emperor is piling on the moth balls in his own defense.

I could easily see someone thinking, "Okay, McDuff, you're just taking this as your own Parker-like opportunity to put a spin on things, to self-promote." But I have no such illusions of grandeur. If Parker was thinking of any one person, it may have been Alice Feiring, true-wine advocate extraordinaire and author of "The Battle for Wine and Love: or How I Saved the World from Parkerization." However, I think what Parker was actually having a meltdown over is, again, the ever increasing influence of an ever increasing number of voices being publicly expressed in the wine world. Bloggers, writers, sommeliers, retailers, bulletin board subscribers, distributors and importers, heck, maybe even collectors....

It's not really about what Parker called "vinofreakism." Rather, there is an undeniable backlash, though it's hardly universal, against what another wine critic, Eric Asimov, has coined "the tyranny of the tasting note." In this context, perhaps it's even more appropriate to think of as the tyranny of the wine rating system. Parker, like many of his peers at other major wine publications, has built his empire upon it and he is now clearly feeling the pinch.

* * *

On a more grassroots, more down-to-earth level, what I'm just as galled by is the possibility that Parker's diatribe might actually turn-off some true wine and food lovers to the idea of dining at Bibou. What a nasty case of guilt-by-association that would be.

Parker was right about at least a few of the things he was quoted as saying in Klein's article. The food at Bibou is indeed top-notch, an example of French country/bistro cuisine at its finest. And, as I pointed out in my original review of Bibou, everything about the BYOB, from the ease of its food to the quality of stemware and service, makes it a great place to take a broad variety of wines, be they classic or adventurous, heavy-hitters or simple pleasures.

The very same dish of foie-gras stuffed pig's trotters over a bed of lentils, mentioned by Parker, was a highlight of my last visit. Rich it was but over-the-top, as it might sound, it was not. All its elements were in harmony.

On that same August trip, the 2007 Chablis of Gilbert Picq showed much better than Nicolas Joly's Savennières "Les Clos Sacrés" 2005.

Likewise, Coudert's 2007 Fleurie "Clos de la Roilette Cuvée Tardive" was in a prettier spot than the 2006 Arbois Poulsard "Vieilles Vignes" from Tissot.

The real star of the lineup, though, was a bottle of 1997 Château Musar, eloquently expressive and a delight with the pig's foot and lentils.

So, I hope my point in this second half of my own little diatribe is even more obvious than that expressed in part one. Go to Bibou. Take good wine. Enjoy the company of good friends. Eat well. And leave the agenda where it belongs.



Bibou
1009 South 8th Street
(between Carpenter and Washington)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-965-8290

Intro only...

Bibou

Philadelphia is by no means a small town, but exploring its constantly changing dining scene can sometimes make it feel like one. It’s not at all uncommon to go to check out a new spot – or to revisit an old standby – only to find that you know seemingly half the other people in the place. I like to think it’s less a sign of provincialism, more an indication that Philly is evolving into a great restaurant town and, as a direct result, is developing a hardcore set of food explorers, always on the lookout for the newest flavor in town. The phenomenon seems particularly tied to the BYOB scene – something for which Philly is justly renowned. People, it seems, aren’t just in search of the newest, freshest flavor but also for great value and the freedom to create their own wine list.

If there’s a downside to this whole scenario, it’s that some places open to such positive acclaim that the demand for reservations can quickly surpass availability. Witness Bibou. Such was the buzz on the street prior to Bibou’s start just two months ago that the house was full, I’m told, on opening night. While securing a reservation for one of the restaurant’s 36 or so seats hasn’t yet become a near impossibility, something tells me that day’s not far off.


The bar at Bibou serves both as seating for tasting menu customers and as a resting place for co-owner Charlotte Calmels and the wine(s) customers often send her way. During our visit it seemed like someone at every table knew someone at at least one other table, if not more. Charlotte graciously shuttled glasses of wine from one table to the next, including the very fine taste of 1983 Château Pichon Longueville that one group of fellow diners sent our way.
Bibou is also the newest in Philadelphia’s cadre of husband/wife restaurant ventures. Le Bec Fin and Daniel alum Pierre Calmels leads in the kitchen while his wife Charlotte, formerly of Patrice Rames’ Patou and Bistro St. Tropez, oversees the front of the house. Their menu of classic French bistro dishes is scaled to the size of their space – manageable and focused – with just five entrées (in the French sense of the term), five main plates and a handful of desserts on offer Wednesday through Saturday nights. Like at an increasing number of Philadelphia BYOBs, Sunday is prix fixe night, with three courses plus amuse bouche priced at $45 per person, sans tax and tip. Not the cheapest deal in town but a solid value given the quality of what my friends and I encountered on a recent Sunday evening.



Pictured at top, every basket of house baked bread (which is very good, by the way) comes with its own parcel of French butter from the cooperative dairy, Échiré. Cantaloupe soup and escargots, below.
An early season amuse of chilled cantaloupe soup made for a great taste bud teaser, sparked with strips of savory duck prosciutto and a generous twist of black pepper. As at Pif, the former denizen of Bibou’s space in the Italian Market area of Bella Vista, escargots seems poised to be the signature appetizer. On our visit, though, it was the only somewhat disappointing dish of the evening, the richness of a mushroom demi-glace and slightly heavy-handed seasoning obscuring the flavor of the snails themselves. I found no such issues with our other starters. The decadence of seared foie gras was balanced by the sweet and sour tang of plum chutney and the tannic earthiness of toasted walnuts, while a terrine of quail mousse set aside a simply dressed salad and pickled red cabbage provided rustic satisfaction.


Our waiter, who it turns out is from Stuttgart, was first startled and then happily surprised to see a Franken bocksbeutel emerge from my wine caddy. Rufolf Fürst's 2006 Riesling trocken "pur mineral" was rustic, energetic, full-flavored and right on with our first courses. The food at Bibou is very well suited to "classic" wines. Henri Germain's 2005 Bourgogne Rouge was sweet-fruited and delicate enough to work with the fish yet had the depth to match with duck confit. The 1999 Margaux from cru artisan estate Château les Barraillots was still young but showing very well; a solid match with the beef of the day.
The manageable scope of the menu helps Bibou escape the pitfall of far too many restaurants, where small plates all too often outshine the main courses. Here, the plats principaux are the stars, with Chef Calmels displaying a deft hand with proteins and bringing out the best in the innate flavors of market fresh vegetables. Hanger steak, the boeuf course on our visit, was spot-on medium rare, spiked by an assertive yet delicious green peppercorn sauce. Meltingly tender duck confit sat atop a warming, soulful tousle of linguine – slightly overcooked in the French fashion – sauced with duck jus and a fricassee of artichokes and sweet cherry tomatoes. As good as were the meat dishes, the flétan may just have been the star of the night, a perfectly seared medallion of halibut set atop a bed of lemon-poached cauliflower couscous played very well with the pungent sweetness of curried butternut squash and raisins.



Aside from the sorbet and ice creams, which are sourced from nearby Anthony’s in the 9th Street Market, desserts are made in-house. Both chocolate cake, based on a recipe from Charlotte’s grandmother, and peach pie were well executed and made for a comforting, unostentatious finale to our meal.



Bibou
1009 South 8th Street
(between Carpenter and Washington)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-965-8290

Intro only...