Zento

Clubbing it is not my thing. Neither is facing off with the see and be seen set. So it takes a lot to get me into Old City – one of Philly’s centers for such things – on a Friday or Saturday night. A good band at The Khyber or performance at the Painted Bride Art Center might do it. Or perhaps a short run film at the Ritz. Once there, dinner, whether before or after, is a must on such nights. The problem is, short notice reservations at Jose Garces’ Amada are pretty much out of the question. And I prefer to avoid the dinner as theater and tourist trap spots that otherwise dominate the neighborhood.

Luckily, there are a small but slowly growing number of spots in Old City that buck the area’s clubby tendencies and offer straightforward, worthwhile dining experiences. For years my go-to spot was La Locanda del Ghiottone but it somehow lost its allure following the death of its original, ever colorful owner Giuseppe Rosselli. If time permits, there’s good food to be had at Bistro 7. The burgers at Eulogy leave something to be desired but the fries are some of the best in town and the Belgian beer list is second only to Monk’s.

Though it’s already been part of the neighborhood since August 2006, my latest sweet spot in Old City is Zento Contemporary Japanese Cuisine. Chef/owner Gunawan Wibisono, formerly head chef at Kisso (also in Old City), spent time honing his skills on the sushi line at Morimoto. He’s now turning out some of the most, yes, contemporary Japanese food in town, with a clear emphasis on modern and creative sushi rolls. While I’ve enjoyed those more creative efforts in the past, I opted to go with the simple, more traditional side of the menu on my latest visit.


Zento may just serve the largest bowl of miso soup in town. I’d love to see a bit more tofu and perhaps some seaweed in the mix but the miso/dashi balance is just right, not too salty or pungent but far from washed out, bland or muddied by overheating.

If there was a disappointment, it came in the form of edamame that had been steamed for too long. They weren’t past the point of no return, just a little less bright and snappy than ideal. We still managed to empty our bowl, as it’s hard to pass up their combination of saltiness and freshness as a starter.


My wife’s veggie rolls were well executed, with a sweet potato tempura roll just hinting at the creative capacities of the kitchen. The addictively tasty melding of firm rice, nori and sweet batter-fried potatoes made me wonder why more Japanese restaurants don’t leverage this typical tempura ingredient into their sushi roll offerings.

That was the extent of our flirtations with modernity on this evening, as my opting for the chef’s daily selection of sushi and sashimi brought the focus right back to old school, traditional simplicity. It’s good to see that a kitchen that has built its reputation on the creative can also deliver the fundamentals in a quality, focused manner. It was also good to see that the chef’s assortment did not include any of the filler portions – California rolls, omelets or steamed shrimp –common to sushi platters at far too many establishments. Salmon, hamachi and tuna sashimi were cut large and boldly, focusing the eye on the beautiful flesh of the fish. The sushi rice could have benefited from a bit more of the tang of rice wine vinegar yet was well cooked and well proportioned to the generous slices of raw fish. One of my favorite basic rolls – hamachi and scallion – completed the picture, along with a handsomely executed, tobiko-topped flower of fluke.


Zento has the added benefit, at least in my book, of being a BYOB. If in doubt as to what to carry along, all but the most dyed in the wool white wine haters shouldn’t even bother with red. The menu here screams out for high acid white wine with good fruit and clean, un-oaked flavors. Slightly off-dry sake would also be a good choice. My choice was clear though: Riesling. Based on the rich flavors and sweet sauces adorning many of the sushi rolls I’d enjoyed on past visits, I opted on this occasion for Spâtlese Riesling from the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer (more on that soon). It turned out to work wonderfully. If you know you’re going for straight sushi and sashimi, you could do just as well with a dry Riesling from the Rhein or Austria, or perhaps Blanc de Blancs Champagne from a good grower. Just be sure to give your glasses a sniff before pouring; mine needed a quick seasoning to eliminate some kitchen-related odors.

If you’re looking for rich atmosphere with your sushi experience, you won’t find it here. Zento is little more than a box-shaped, white-walled storefront, with a tiny sushi counter – only three or four seats – and about fifteen two- and four-top tables. Reservations are taken, honored and recommended. Service is fast paced and pleasant. And there’s not much else to it.

I’m not sure Zento will become a draw strong enough to pull me in just for dinner on a weekend (though certainly on a Tuesday). But on those Fridays or Saturdays when I’m drawn by force into the neighborhood, it’s earned a strong spot on my short list of places worth visiting.

Zento Contemporary Japanese Cuisine
138 Chestnut Street
Philadelphia, PA 19106
215-925-9998

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Pairing Peking Duck

Mention the word “duck” in the company of wine lovers and you’ll find them more likely to reach for a corkscrew than to reflexively shrink, drop or roll. Arm wrestling matches are likely to ensue over the pairing of choice. Will it be red Burgundy or Bordeaux, or something from the deeper southwest of France perhaps? All are likely preferences. But let’s not forget how important preparation techniques and seasoning can be in determining that ever-fleeting ideal pairing.

Take Peking duck for instance. There’s a very high skin to meat ratio in the classic serving style. Long, slow roasting breaks down the proteins in the meat, making it more about richness and texture. I just love the counterpoint between the golden, crackly skin and the buttery, tender texture of the meat below, enriched with some of the fat rendered from beneath the bird’s skin during that luxurious roast. Add to that, when the dish is done right, the subtle, pervasive infusion of Asian five spice and you’ll begin to get an idea as to why I love Peking duck. I’m salivating just writing this.

When it comes to Peking duck, my mind turns away from red wine entirely, focusing instead on a white with nerves of steel and a heart of fruit. Riesling. My heart and habits take me to Germany but Austrian or Alsatian examples can work as well. I look for a solid core of fruit, scintillating acidity and a spine of minerality to temper the wine’s fruit. This is not the place for austere stoniness or for opulent fruitiness (both of which have their place, of course). Subtle spiciness is welcome; big, broad grapefruit driven flavors are not. Trocken (dry) or halbtrocken (half-dry) wines seem to work best, ranging anywhere from the simple to the deep. What’s important is balance and purity of flavor.

The pairing was put to the test recently, as I shared an over-the-top meal with a group of friends at a tiny little nook in Chinatown in celebration of the Year of the Rat. After about ten courses, all served family style and washed down with a few other wines, we decided to order a Peking duck for good measure. As luck would have it, I had toted along a bottle of Riesling we’d yet to open, the 2004 Monzinger trocken from Emrich-Schönleber, a Nahe-based producer I visited in 2004. It is Schönleber’s simplest Riesling, at least in terms of what’s bottled for sale beyond the winery’s front door. Ask Werner Schönleber about it and he’ll just shrug, as if to say it’s no big deal. Ask his son Frank and he’ll just talk about how easy it is to drink a bottle (it typically chimes in at around 11.5% alcohol). In spite of the wine’s simplicity relative to its stable mates, it’s still capable of mid-term cellaring in solid vintages. With a couple years in bottle, its early yeastiness and fresh citrus tang become integrated into a more complete wine. On this night, it was brimming with white peach, laced with red spice and underpinned by mouthwatering slate minerality. As with all of Schönleber’s wines, it was all riding on a wave of beautifully balanced acidity.

With the duck, let’s just say it was divine. A lovely match with the crackling skin, spice and fat infused meat and even with the mildly sweet hoisin brushed pancakes. Without solicitation, at least three of my fellow diners commented on the pairing, asking if I’d brought it with the duck in mind. I hadn’t. It was just serendipity. Does it work for you?

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Marc Vetri at Snackbar

What happens when one of Philadelphia’s most soundly established and respected chefs, Marc Vetri, comes out to play at one of the city’s more adventurous micro-restaurants, Snackbar? Let’s just say the city’s foodies take notice. When last I attempted to secure a reservation for one of these Snackbar events – it was Shola Olunloyo’s guest chef installment – I struck out in the race for a table. This time around, I succeeded thanks to a little help from some friends. The payoff, as served at Snackbar this past Monday, made our group effort worthwhile. I wasn’t sure what to expect of the meld between Vetri’s soulful cooking and Snackbar chef Jonathan McDonald’s reputation for gastronomic edginess. In the end it was clear that Vetri took the lead, to good effect, while McDonald’s creative touches with textures, techniques and flavors were cleverly inserted into each dish.

Snackbar’s usual front of the house staff was on fine form on the evening. They were helped along by Jeff Benjamin, sommelier at Vetri, who selected the beverages paired with each course and worked the tables, imparting wine background and pairing rationale along the way. Though we wouldn’t discover it until the end of the evening, there was some extra guest support in the kitchen as well, courtesy of Michael Solomonov, late of Marigold Kitchen, soon headed to Zahav and once a member of Vetri’s kitchen team.

Arancine di Riso with Parmesan Emulsion
The first course they delivered was a teaser. One lonely little arancine, a risotto fritter posed in a wave of foam set in a miniature casserole dish. Actually, the fritter was a nice size; it’s just that I could have eaten a handful. The outer shell of rice was toasted to a golden brown, not quite crunchy but with a great tooth feel. Inside, tender, ground essence of veal and peas were perfectly seasoned, at once rich in flavor yet light in weight. McDonald’s touch could be seen in the parmesan emulsion. It worked much better here than a full on sauce would have, adding flavor and delicacy without marring the texture of the rice puff.

paired with:
Franciacorta Brut Rosé, Le Marchesine 2002
I love bubbly as a starter, so I wasn’t about to complain when the bartender leaned across the bar to fill our glasses. When I found it was Franciacorta, I was doubly happy, as it’s rare to find any in the Philadelphia market. If Jeff hadn’t stopped by to point out that it was a rosé, I may have never known, as this was the palest possible pink, barely discernible in the red glow reflecting from Snackbar’s crimson walls. Though not particularly complex, it did showcase the chalky, slightly grapey character of Franciacorta that makes good examples a nice meeting point between the fruitiness of Prosecco and the more intense structure of some Champagne. It didn’t hurt that it was one of the better pairings of the evening.

Shaved Porchetta with Treviso, Arugula, and Celery in Forms
Tasted in its separate parts, this course at first seemed disjointed. “Celery in Forms” were pretty to look at, had certainly been modified through some culinary craft but were still essentially just celery. Lightly charred treviso radicchio also seemed at first to be there simply as a foil to the gentle, fatty richness of the porchetta. It was the dish’s assertive dressing, infused with flavors of cured, salty meat, and hinting at a touch of nut oil (hazelnut perhaps?), that pulled the dish up a notch, making it more than just a nod to the salumeria.

paired with:
Colli Orientali del Friuli Tocai Friulano, Rocca Bernarda 2006
This was without question the pairing of the night. As Tocai is a classic match with Prosciutto di San Daniele, the famous ham of Friuli, perhaps it was an easy leap to matching it with porchetta. Nonetheless, it was a leap well taken. Crisp, slightly mineral, floral and peachy, this showed the best attributes of young, unoaked Tocai. Its lively acidity married well with the acid in the dressing as well as the fattiness of the pork.

Squid Ink Spaghetti with Braised Squid and Hot Tomato Jelly
Italy met the Basque country in this dish of tender braised squid, sauced in its own ink and served with a nest of al dente squid ink spaghetti. This was arguably the simplest dish of the night, which might explain why I would happily tuck into a full-on portion of this as a main plate. However, it still managed to represent a mischievous interplay between Vetri’s soulfulness and McDonald’s tweaks. Plain to see atop the pasta was a sprinkling of intensely sweet and tangy oven-dried grape tomatoes, while lurking behind those black noodles were a few gel forms of molten tomato essence, shaped to mirror their vine plucked counterparts yet more cerebral in both their texture and flavor delivery.

paired with:
Blanche de Bruxelles Bière
As much as I enjoy good beer and believe in the possibilities of pairing beer with ambitious food, I’ve always found it a bit odd that Belgian beers are give pride of place on the beverage menus at both Osteria and Vetri, our guest chef’s establishments. Mr. Benjamin explained that he was looking for a low-alcohol option that would work with spicy heat, which he rightly understands as a challenge, when high intensity, for even lighter, sweeter wines. The problem was that there was only a barely perceptible tingle of red pepper heat in the squid ink spaghetti. A clean, vibrant white from Campania could have handled it easily. The Blanche de Bruxelles was refreshing. It didn’t clash with the dish but it did just kind of stand there and do its own thing, offering very little in the way of spark in the pairing. But hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Braised Eel with Chanterelle Ragu and Winter Greens
There was real elegance in this dish, evoked by well integrated flavors, traditional flavors of the season and careful preparation and presentation, pulled back a notch only by its rather gray color palette. The eel itself was tender and richly organ-y in taste. Unlike the preceding course, it’s not something I’d want a heaping bowl of or something I’d choose as a regular dish. But it may have been the most challenging plate of the evening in spite of showing no obvious edginess.

paired with:
Bourgogne Pinot Noir “Vero,” Drouhin 2006
Named for Veronique “Vero” Drouhin, this is her “unique selection of Bourgogne Villages,” a wine she assembled from fruit grown throughout various parts of Burgundy. Her time spent working in Oregon, though, shows more than the wine’s cumulative possibility of character, as it lacked delineation, acidity and finesse, replacing them all with soft, round, one-dimensional fruit. As a guy who spends his days on the floor in a wine shop, I can understand the urge to concede to the popular desire for red wine. But this isn’t a party; it’s a chef’s tasting menu, man! I’m being overly tough on Jeff here, as it wasn’t a bad pairing. As with the beer/pasta combo, the Burgundy didn’t clash with the eel. I just didn’t like it. The wine, that is. Though not exactly seasonal, I would love to have seen rosé served here, perhaps a Bardolino Chiaretto, straight from the shores of Lake Garda where eel is a local staple. A Bardolino normale or a bright, un-pumped-up style of Valpolicella could have done in a red wine necessitated pinch.

Pomelo Campari Sorbet

The intermezzo on steroids. This cleansed the palate of the preceding courses and then some. The tart, bitter and explosively flavorful combo of grapefruity pomelo and herbal Campari was delicious. Its lingering tanginess left me very, very afraid to try the Negroamaro that had been poured in anticipation of the next course.

Veal Cheek and Sweetbread Duo
The final savory course of the evening took things back to a sound footing in comfort food, yet with a higher degree of elegance relative to the squid pasta. For me, the sweetbreads were the star of the plate, seared to a just barely crisp exterior and not shy of showcasing the tender, juicy offal. The veal cheeks were tender almost to a fault, buttery in their softness and richness, yet were hard not to like. A portion of saffron infused artichoke heart, firm and snappy in texture, provided color and art on the plate. It was cut and poised in a way that made it resemble, at first glance, a chanterelle.

paired with:
Salento IGT Negroamaro “Masseria Maìme,” Tormaresca 2003
Tre Bicchiere winner or not, this was (slightly) hot wine from a hot region in a hot growing season. Opaque, opulent and blowsy, it was another example of a pairing that neither clashed nor added much in the way of interest. Pugliese Negroamaro could certainly have been a nice match; it just needed a bit more acidity and cut in place of richness. Better yet, how about an old school Barbera d’Alba or a juicy rendition of Langhe Nebbiolo?

Castagnaccio (“Bad Chestnut”) with Ricotta Foam
Even after squid ink, eel and sweetbreads, the award for most unusual dish went to the dessert course, hands down. Essentially a brownie made with chestnut flour, this had wild flavors of fermentation, funk, even a slightly fishy nuance. It was irresistible. The slightly sour tang of the ricotta foam, texturally like airy whipped cream, matched perfectly with the Castagnaccio, while a generous streak of honey provided an optional spine of sweetness.

paired with:
Recioto di Soave “Le Schiavetto,” Le Mandolare 2004
Here, the pairing was on without question. For me, only the Tocai/Porchetta combination provided a more harmonious match on the evening. The honeyed nuttiness of the Recioto di Soave, along with its sound acidity, worked well and avoided the heavy handedness that might have come from a more obvious match like Recioto della Valpolicella or Banyuls.

Piccola Pasticceria
A little sugar artistry finished off the evening. The macaroon was well executed but it was the marshmallow – looking strangely like a decapitated Peep – that was the attention grabber. Artichoke and bitter orange zest, I believe, made it clear that Snackbar’s experimental tendencies were not being neglected.

Overall, this was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Pacing was relaxed yet steady. Service, as mentioned earlier, was precise and friendly. Even sitting in the worst seats in the house provided its own pleasures. We may have suffered the occasional blast of cold air but our position front and center gave a great view of the room and afforded the opportunity to talk with the staff and other diners at the bar. The partnership between Vetri and McDonald clearly worked to good advantage in the kitchen. I’ll look forward to a return visit to Snackbar on a regular night and will certainly be on the lookout for their next guest chef event.

Addendum:
Many thanks are due to Philadining for sharing some of his photographs. The shots from the Arancine through to the Sorbet are all his. It was only beginning with the veal/sweetbread duo that I finally heeded his cue that shots taken at the bar were not likely to work. Check out his summation of the evening at the Philadining blog.

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Crozes-Hermitage and Venison

A good buddy of mine returned from a trip to western Virginia recently with an entire deer hindquarter, courtesy of his hunting cousin. I wasn’t about to pass up the section he offered me. It was essentially a small "filet," cut from the upper part of the animal’s leg. As good as was the slow-cooked daube that he and his significant other had prepared from the bulk of the leg meat, this portion called out for a quicker, dry cooking technique. After slicing the steak on the bias into four little medallions, I simply hit each piece with salt, pepper and a tiny sprinkle of ground nutmeg. A quick pan sear over medium heat with a bit of olive oil was all it took to reach rare to medium-rare temperature.

When thinking of a wine pairing for game, it’s all too natural to jump automatically into the realm of big, burly reds. But with extremely lean meat like venison, soft tannins, supple texture and generous fruit are the order of the day.

Crozes-Hermitage, Domaine Combier 2003
Laurent Combier grew up in the organic orchard business started by his grandparents. In 1990 he founded Domaine Combier, building on the small vineyard property owned by his parents. He’s since expanded the estate to about 20 hectares, all farmed organically and planted largely to Syrah along with small parcels of Marsanne and Roussanne. His wines, particularly this flagship Crozes-Hermitage rouge, reflect Laurent’s heritage as an orchard man. They do not represent the dark, brooding side of Northern Rhone Syrah. Nor should they ever be associated with the underwhelming, over-cropped or carbonic maceration side of Crozes-Hermitage. Laurent’s wines simply brim with clean, pure fruit.

When first opened, Combier’s 2003 Crozes belied its hot growing season with aromas of fresh crushed raspberry and boysenberry fruit, citrus confit and a light-handed touch of wood. Medium-bodied and lively on the palate, red berry fruit was highlighted by Asian spice notes and well-integrated, finely grained tannins. With the baking spice tones of the wine in mind, I’d intentionally chosen nutmeg as a seasoning for the venison. Not only is it fairly traditional as a spice for deer but I also hoped it would find a natural groove with the wine. I wasn’t disappointed, as it turned out to be a pairing that brought forth an extra depth of savor in both the wine and the meal.

The Syrah held up well into its second day, developing darker, more evolved flavors. Both acidity and tannins had become gentler, letting the riper, darker side of the fruit show through. Though not a candidate for long-term aging, I do think it will continue to develop along a pleasantly mellowing course for another three or four years before its charms begin to fade.

$27. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ, and Charles Neal Selections, San Francisco, CA.

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Clandestin and Riesling

As part and parcel of teaching a private class on the fundamentals of wine and cheese at Tria Fermentation School a few nights back, I had the opportunity to taste a few goodies. One cheese in particular struck me for its individuality and funk: Clandestin, a dual milk cheese, blended from equal parts of cow’s and sheep’s milk, made by Fromagerie Le Detour in Québec. It’s a washed rind, pasteurized cheese, which comes in small discs about the size of a hockey puck. Every wheel that night was a little different, some firm and pliable of pate, others oozing and odoriferous, showing a darker orange tinge to their rind. I enjoyed a slice from one of the latter sort. My first impression was of a bacon-like smokiness, along with a slightly sour lactic tang that reminded me of Saint-Marcellin. There was some grassiness, but in a damp, slightly briny fashion that evoked comparisons from various class members to the aromas and flavors of caviar, mushrooms and shrimp. Curious stuff, I wouldn’t choose it as a staple in my cheese arsenal but it’s definitely worthy of consideration as something striking for your next cheese plate.

Two stages of Clandestin
We paired the Clandestin with a 2003 Brauneberger Juffer Riesling Spätlese from Willi Haag. A member of the VDP, the Haag estate comprises about five hectares of vineyards in the Mosel. On its own, the Riesling was disappointingly one-dimensional. It showed round, peachy fruit but was lacking in both acidity and minerality, no doubt an unwanted side-effect of the hot, dry growing conditions, at least relative to the norm, in the Mosel in 2003. Lurking behind the wine’s generous sweetness and fruitiness was a touch of sweaty cellar funk.

At first taste – on the front palate, if you prefer – the pairing worked reasonably well together. The fruit forward nature of the wine played well with the smokiness and grassiness of the cheese; the sweetness level of the wine was just a bit higher than ideal. On the finish, however, the sourness of the cheese combined with the sweaty hint in the Spätlese to form an amplified funkiness. I rather liked it for its peculiar savor but I could see more than a handful of twisted expressions around the room. Next time around, I’d choose a drier Riesling, Grüner Veltliner or Sancerre, one with nervier acid, greater minerality and a more citrus character. And the terroirist in me would like the opportunity to test it for local affinities with a québécois Riesling or apple cider.

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Irouléguy, Domaine Brana 1999

Time may have softened the tannins of Domaine Brana’s 1999 Irouléguy but it’s done little else to calm the wine’s inherently sauvage nature. Initial aromas of dry-aged meat, dried herbs and stewed green peppers meet the nose, followed on the palate by slightly angular wood tannins and firm, somewhat narrow texture. As the wine opens in the glass, herbaceous aromas give way to wild plums and sour cherries. The dry woodiness also blows off, letting the ferrous quality and wild fruit of this typically Basque wine show through. Finally, again with air time, riper, rounder grape tannins take over from the subsiding wood tannins, giving the wine richness in the mouth that belies its medium-bodied scale and old-school alcohol level.

This is arguably the most typical of Domaine Brana’s reds – more solid, fine and age worthy than the rustic Ohitza and less rich and modern than Axeria. All three are blends dominated by Cabernet Franc, supported by Cabernet Sauvignon and Tannat. There’s structure here to allow further cellaring but I’m not convinced that patience will reap further rewards as this seems to be riding its plateau now, retaining solid fruit yet showing the tertiary aromas of bottle development.
Approximately $25 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.

Opening this bottle was unplanned. It just seemed to call to me when I opened the cellar door in search of something to pair with Christmas dinner. Though I was hardly preparing a traditional Basque meal, the Irouléguy nonetheless seemed an appropriate match to roast duck magret served with a woodsy Portobello mushroom risotto and, just to get some green on the plate, steamed broccoli. The risotto was a fine match but it was really the duck that made the wine sing.

I like to keep a couple of D’Artagnan's duck breasts on hand at all times. They hold up extremely well in the freezer. Once thawed, they require nothing other than a generous sprinkle of salt and pepper followed by a good pan sear over medium heat to render and crisp the fat layer, followed by roasting in the oven, fat side up. Pouring off and saving the rendered fat is just an added bonus, one that will add a wonderful depth of flavor to eggs, beans or potatoes at a future meal.

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Relevant goodies:

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The Choucroute Challenge

For the past few years, one of my dear coworkers has started a tradition that I hope she doesn’t retire. She’s made a big batch of absolutely delicious choucroute garnie and brought it into the shop to feed us hungry wine warriors on the last retail Saturday before Christmas. It’s one of the busiest days of the year, so the warm belly glow and slow-burn energy that results – I had a hard time not going back to the pot for a third helping this year – is more than welcome.

Each year, we’ve taken the opportunity to taste a few wines that, at least in theory, should be natural matches to the flavors, ingredients and richness of the dish. As the tradition for choucroute is most strongly tied to Alsace, we’ve perforce included at least one or two Alsace wines in the line-up. For two years running, though, a German wine has come out on top as the best pairing. Last year’s winner was Andreas Laible’s 2005 Baden Ortenau Durbacher Plauelrain Scheurebe Spätlese trocken; the wine’s big, spicy, grapefruit driven persona stood right up to the porcine goodness of all those mixed meats and kraut. This year’s prize was taken more by mineral, nerve and an underlying spine of intensity, all fronted by a beautiful combination of white peach, green apple and quince. It was the 2005 Saar Wiltinger Schlangengraben Riesling Auslese halbtrocken from Johann Peter Reinert, just scintillatingly good, especially with the veal sausages.

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Blaue Gans

The third and latest wave of Chef Kurt Gutenbrunner’s Austrian invasion of the New York culinary scene, Blaue Gans (Blue Goose) opened in late December 2005 in the Tribeca space formerly occupied by Le Zinc. As he did previously at Wallsé and Café Sabarsky, KG has created an authentic dining experience and deftly presented it with an appropriate balance between formality and ease. The room has a warm, inviting feel, funkified by the walls plastered with gallery, music and theater posters, holdovers from the previous owners. Kurt apparently liked the look and couldn’t bear to part with the cultural history. The restaurant is a single large room, longer than it is wide, the entrance centered in the front wall under a slightly arched ceiling. To the right inside the door, a small zinc bar provides a perch for imbibers, regulars or for those seeking the most casual approach to their meal. Banquettes along both long walls look out over the simple dining room of small café tables and wooden rung chairs. Large mirrors on the wall reflect the riot of artwork, lend brasserie-like writing space for menu additions and provide some extra viewing opportunities for patrons with a face to the wall. The overall feel is less formal and serene than at Wallsé, not as dainty as the traditional Viennese Kaffeehaus aura at Sabarsky. If I lived in the neighborhood, I’d be tempted to eat there weekly.

With proper discipline, one could actually afford to do just that. The menu, though ambitious in some corners, includes a basic array of wursts, salads and simple appetizers. Finished off with a simple glass of beer – Gösser or Bitburger perhaps – one could leave with a full belly and only $25 poorer for the experience. As this was my first visit, I couldn’t bring myself to eat so simply, though. After all, I’m far more likely to cook up some simple wursts and kraut at home than I am to make duck spätzle, kavalierspitz or any of the other more involved dishes on the menu. That said, even with the occasional nod toward the creative, I think it’s safe to sum up the Blaue Gans table as authentic Austro-German comfort food elevated by a well-carried air of sophistication. Let me describe what I mean.

Smoked Trout Palatschinken Torte, Horseradish Crème Fraiche and Baby Beets

An appetizer option from the regular menu, this was essentially a substantial yet delicately textured smoked trout mousseline presented in a quiche-like form with Palatschinken – German crepes – serving as a torte shell. Accompanied by dill and freshly grated horseradish condiments, a trio of lightly pickled red beet wedges and a small salad of radishes and mâche, it made for an ideal summer starter. Its presentation was lovely enough to draw questions from diners at neighboring tables.

Local Green Asparagus, Soft Boiled Egg and Hazelnut Vinaigrette

A daily special, this course was the epitome of simplicity. White asparagus would have been more traditional but, as it’s not in season, locally grown green asparagus was a smarter option. The asparagus spears were blanched for two minutes and then served chilled, their subtly flavored hazelnut vinaigrette dressing enriched by the intermingling of yolk oozing from one perfectly soft boiled egg. A spray of frisée completed the composition.

Natural Raised Suckling Pig, Zweigelt Onions and Brioche Dumplings

The description of this special reminded me of a hybrid between two of the most memorable meals I enjoyed during a trip to Vienna last fall. I couldn’t pass it up. It also turned out to be the dish which most clearly encapsulated the restaurant’s dialog between comfort food and sophistication. Rustic presentation belied the subtle nuances given rise by the skilled hands in the kitchen. The Zweigelt onions were tender yet still toothsome, made just sweet enough by their slow braise. Also tender, the roasted pig’s ample layer of fat, neither over rendered nor over crisped, remained distinct from its flesh and was teeth-sticking good. Even the dumpling – symbol of central European home cooking – was well done, successfully balancing moisture and texture and elevated by a dash of thyme and the use of brioche.

Golden fried “Free Range” Chicken and Potato-Mâche Salad

My dining buddy again opted for simplicity, perhaps feeling the effects of a long day walking the city. A staple on the regular menu, it should be pointed out that this is Viennese fried chicken, a far cry from the crispy, juicy and greasy pleasures of southern fried chicken. If the chicken had been pounded flat or cutlets had been used rather than on-the-bone pieces, Chicken Wiener Schnitzel wouldn’t have been an inappropriate name. The golden crumb breading was the give away; lightly sweet and served with a wedge of lemon, the breading’s flavors clearly derived from the same mother recipe as for schnitzel batter. As moist and well cooked as the chicken was, it was the only disappointment of the evening, if only because it did not hold either the interest or purity of the other savory dishes nor the decadence of the dessert to come. Elevation was there nonetheless, this time in the form of an addictively good potato salad that I’d like to try to replicate at home.

ohr im hemd with Chocolate Sorbet

Here’s where my smidgen of German fails me. I’m sure there’s a more appropriate or clever colloquial meaning behind this dessert’s name, which literally translates to something like “ear in the shirt.” The shirt would seem to be the warm chocolate sauce which blanketed the airy chocolate cake hiding beneath. The interplay between temperature, texture and varying levels of richness was extended by the third part of the trio, a scoop of chocolate sorbet presented in the cradle of a Japanese soup spoon. Gelato may have been too rich in combination with the chocolate sauce; the icy lightness of sorbet allowed for flavor intensity without burying the palate. As at Wallsé, Chef Gutenbrunner has avoided one of the major pitfalls of smaller, chef driven restaurants. The desserts and pastries are not a let down; rather, they’re every bit up to the level of the main menu, making for a complete dining experience.

Wachau Riesling Federspiel “Steinriegl,” Prager 2005

The wine list at Blaue Gans is appropriately scaled to the ambition of the menu and the casual, neighborhood feel of the space. I understand that the list was originally, as at Wallsé, entirely Austrian. Smartly, the decision has since been made to diversify, the end result being a tidy collection of offerings from Austria and Germany with a smattering of choices from France, Italy and the US. However, there are two distinct shortcomings to the list. First, there is not a good value to be found. Prices are not astronomical in plain dollars and cents but the average 3x markup is out of scale to the moderate menu prices, particularly given the simple stemware and casual service level. Second, the list would benefit greatly through the addition of a selection of half-bottles.

As there were no splits in the house and I rarely opt to buy wines by the glass, we settled on a single bottle in the hopes that it would stretch through the meal and work with the wide array of choices we’d made. Weingut Prager’s Riesling Federspiel “Steinriegl” was a solid selection, well balanced by its medium acidity, minerality and clean orchard fruit driven flavors. It was surprisingly fleshy and structured for a Federspiel, perhaps an expression of the concentration provided by the 2005 growing season. The wine, as we’d expected, worked wonderfully with our first courses but was not quite up to the task of the hearty character of the suckling pig dish which would have been more ideally paired with a red such as Zweigelt or Blaufränkisch.

I’d better go back and try again, just to be sure.


Blaue Gans
139 Duane Street
New York, NY 10013
212-571-8880

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Wine and Cheese Tasting at Domaine Hudson

Next Thursday, July 19, I’ll be tag-teaming with the crew from New York’s Artisinal Premium Cheese to present a wine and cheese pairing happy hour at Domaine Hudson in Wilmington, Delaware. The event is already sold out – sorry for the late notice – but if you’d like to do some shopping, gather some friends and follow along from home, here’s what we’ll be serving.

• Haut-Poitou VDQS Sauvignon “Marigny-Neuf,” Ampelidae 2006 with Chabichou du Poitou
  
• Coteaux d’Aix en Provence Rosé, Château Calissanne 2006 with Ibores
  
• Chénas, Domaine Georges Trichard 2005 with Isle of Mull Cheddar
  
• Barbera d’Asti “Nobbio,” Roberto Ferraris 2005 with Robiola Bosina
  
• Toro, Quinta de la Quietud 2002 with Roncal
  
• Muscat de Rivesaltes, Mas Amiel 2005 with Bartlett Blue

Which came first, the cheese or the wine? In the case of this course, it was the cheese. I selected the wines to match each cheese with an eye to regional affinities as well as textural and flavor complements. I’m looking forward to the dialog with the mavens from Artisinal and with the crowd at Domaine Hudson. I hope to see you there!

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Eleven Samurai

Continuing on my fortuitous path of Tuesday evening explorations in culinaria, eleven friends, new and old, gathered this week. We met with a twelfth, the one Ronin, who had agreed to share with us his ways of the knife and the flame. In turn, our troupe provided a panoply of wines from around the world and came ready to eat, drink and explore.

While mustering, we whet our appetites with a small pour of the non-vintage Champagne Blanc de Blancs from Pierre Peters, a medium-sized Récoltant-Manipulant producer based in the village of Le Mesnil-sur-Oger. His wine showed the typical fresh hazelnut and hay tones and fine acid balance of Côtes des Blancs Champagne, along with a darker nuttiness and funky nose that suggested some bottle evolution. With that and the typical introductory social rituals behind us, we took our seats, prepared to do battle.

Scallop Carpaccio
carrot sorbet, cardamon and lime air
Our meal began with a dish least touched by heat, most influenced by a purity of fresh core ingredients and the nuances of quality produce and subtle seasonings. Thinly sliced, perfectly smooth and tender medallions of sea scallop were arranged around a quenelle of carrot sorbet, infused with just a hint of toasted cardamon seeds. The cardamon returned as an aromatizing element in the lime foam that billowed above the scallops. All about delicacy of flavor, this was an ideal way to set the stage for the more intense progression to follow.

Wine pairing: Finger Lakes Riesling “Dry,” Hermann J. Wiemer 2005
I’d come prepared for this course with a couple of choices in German Riesling but I’m always open to exploring other options and kudos are due to he who brought this bottle. Kudos to the producer as well, as I can’t say I’ve had a finer domestic Riesling, not just from NY but from the US in general. Finished dry, its minerality along with bright peach and apple tones could pass for a good Mosel or Saar Kabinett halbtrocken. Wiemer’s estate is located on the west side of Seneca Lake in the Finger Lakes district of upstate New York.

Chinese Celery Veloute
corned beef, flavors of steak tartare, smoked salt - almond condiment
If not for the velouté in the menu description, one could not have been faulted for expecting some sort of modern twist on a classic deli sandwich. Soup it was though, at least in part. As delicious as the creamy, celery infused sauce was, the real magic of this dish was in the interplay between the round of subtle tartare-style corned beef and the penetrating flavors of the toasted almond and smoked salt sprinkled on the edge of the plate. As for the “flavors of steak tartare,” I leave it to your willful imaginations….

Wine pairings: Jerez Manzanilla Pasada, Bodega San Vidal (La Cosecha) NV; Brouilly, Georges DuBoeuf 2005
With the heaps of wine in the room, debate abounded as to appropriate matches with this course. Early calls for big reds waned when everyone came to understand the lightness of the course. Two choices resulted: Sherry and Cru Beaujolais. I had brought the Manzanilla along with this course in mind, thinking of both the herbaceous “soup” and the salty almonds. The Beaujolais was offered up as a favorite match with steak tartare. Both worked reasonably well. The chilled Brouilly was direct and easygoing though of an uninspiring quality. The Sherry was harder to understand but delivered much more call-and-response into the mix, echoing flavors from the dish just as the dish amplified some of the aromatic elements of the wine.

Golden Miso Cavatelli
rock shrimp, lovage, fennel cream
As interesting as the miso infused pasta sounded, the real stars on this plate were the pristinely fresh and perfectly cooked rock shrimp, still tasting of briny sea and uplifted by the bright, aromatizing flavor of lovage and the subtle licorice tang of fennel. Though perhaps the least exciting dish of the evening, it was also the most comforting, the course of which I easily could have eaten a heaping bowlful.

Wine pairings: Soave Classico “Castello,” Cantina del Castello 2005; Pouilly-Vinzelles “En Paradis,” Louis Latour 2004; Côtes de Provence Rosé, Commanderie de Peyrassol 2006
Again, lots of people, lots of wine, lots of ideas…. Why not open several bottles? My original thought when presented with the menu was the Soave; it paired admirably against the shrimp and seasonings of the dish. Many of the eleven tend to lean hard toward pouring white Burgundy at the Ronin’s table. The match here was less successful, though texturally it nicely echoed the creaminess of the dish. The winner was the wine from Provence, a pairing conceived only when the aromas of the course wafted into the room. Something in the air just screamed out good pink wine and, luckily, one had come prepared. The bright red fruit and typical aromas of garrigue in Peyrassol’s rosé made it just the ticket.

Berkshire Pork Belly
cipollini tarte tatin, wild asparagus, onion caramel
Careful cooking via multiple methods brought out a clear stratification of the layers – fat, flesh and crispy top – of pork belly. Charred just shy of burnt, the snap of the uppermost layer combined with the unctuous fat beneath and the tender, sweet flesh at the base to make for a nuanced, harmonious taste experience. The full scope of flavor became even clearer (and tastier) as the dish cooled toward room temperature. Played against the sweetness of caramelized onions, the richness of pork fat made this a plate of pure decadence.

Wine pairings: Gigondas, Domaine du Cayron 1997; McLaren Vale Shiraz “Krystina,” De Lisio 2004; Hopland Cabernet Sauvignon “Dempel Vineyard,” Mercurius 2005
Grenache and Syrah based wines, which can often exhibit scents and flavors of cured meats, even bacon fat, seemed natural matches for the Berkshire pork. Decanted upon arrival, the De Lisio Shiraz is a well-crafted example of the big, dark side of the Aussie wine market. At more than 15% alcohol though, flavorful as it was, it dominated the food, reinforcing my admitted bias against high-alcohol wines as being difficult if not impossible to carry off at the table. Perhaps a spice rubbed steak might do the trick. The Gigondas from Cayron, mellowed and sweetened in its fruit over the last ten years, came closest to mirroring the flavors of the dish but was almost too subtle, taking a back seat in mouthfeel to the richness of the pork. The wine that really made sparks fly turned out to be the least intuitive of the matches, the Hopland Cabernet Sauvignon from Mercurius Cellar. Never heard of it? You shouldn’t have. It’s homemade wine, a product of the hobbyist pursuits of one of the eleven – electronic soundscape artist and food writer Robert Rich of Mountain View, California. At 13% alcohol, exhibiting fine balance, clarity of red cassis fruit and briary sensations, this is the kind of California Cab that hearkens back to the pre-Laube and Parker influenced era of over-extracted fruit bombs. Its clean profile and firm grip wrapped themselves around the pork, perfectly complementing the dish’s elements, being neither too shy nor too boisterous.

Chocolate-Coffee "Panna Cotta"
fruitti di bosco, gingerbread
Deconstructed to its simplest stylistic elements, this was essentially a fruit parfait crossed with a decadently rich chocolate mousse, topped off with cookie morsels. It was like an artful version of Steve’s Ice Cream juiced up on crack. The fruitti di bosco, forest fruit gelato made from an Italian base, lent a tangy acidity to the dish, balancing the creaminess of the chocolate; however, combined with the high sugar content of the panna cotta, it also resulted in a slightly sour, burning finish. A crumbled gingerbread topping lent welcome accents of crunch and spice.

Wine pairings: Maury “Dix Ans d’Age,” Mas Amiel N.V.; Moscato d’Asti, G. D. Vajra 2006
The contrasting elements of the dessert course presented challenges from a wine pairing perspective. Maury, a classic and usually successful match for chocolate, fought with the sharpness of the berries. The Moscato d’Asti, equally classic with both fruit-based desserts and lighter chocolate dishes, lost some of its trademark fruitiness in the face of the intense concentration in the chocolate-coffee elements of the course. The Moscato’s frothy bubbles, though, did provide an enjoyably crackly contrast – described by some at the table as akin to Pop Rocks – to the creamy dish. In the end, neither match was perfect but both were enjoyable.

A reconvening of the entire group will be unlikely given our geographically disparate challenges. Parts of the band will no doubt reunite for further adventures in eating. On this Tuesday though, eleven, guided by the skills of one, came together for what turned out to be a night of brotherhood and sisterhood shared around the pleasures of a well laden table.

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Shola's Guest Chef Series: M

Wednesday, June 13 marked the second junket of Shola Olunloyo’s recent flirtation with life and work in the traditional brick and mortar restaurant business. The setting was M Restaurant, an intimate and relatively formal little dining room in Philadelphia’s boutique Morris House Hotel (231 S. 8th Street). With a full sized kitchen and a professional team in support, the meal promised to give a glimpse into the full spectrum of culinary nuances in Shola’s StudioKitchen arsenal, a change in pace from the more rustic approach taken at Apamate. [See the archives for Shola's Guest Chef Series: Apamate.]

Situated across the courtyard gardens from the colonial era Morris House, M benefits greatly from its association with the hotel. The courtyard garden seating area may just be the loveliest, most pacific dining spot in the entire city. On a practical scale, the hotel also provides a much needed foundation for the restaurant, as M would probably struggle to survive on its own. Its bar and dining room, when the patio is not in season, border on being too small for self-sufficiency.

Egress to M is made via a side entrance, just through the gates separating the courtyard from the traffic on 8th Street. The door opens into the cozy bar area, dominated by a an imposing hardwood bar, which seats about eight, and accented by a row of cocktail tables along the window lined front wall. Overseeing the bar is local mix-mistress Katie Loeb, who is doing a grand job of reviving some worthy retro cocktails. While waiting for my dining companions to arrive, I enjoyed her drink of the night, a Floradora Cooler – gin, Chambord, lime juice and ginger ale, shaken and served on the rocks with a lime wedge garnish. Its flavors fit the season without dulling the palate prior to the main event.

The barroom leads straight past the hostess stand and restrooms into M’s petite, softly lit dining room. Arranged along two walls, most tables are setup as two- and four-tops, with a couple of round tables providing seating for slightly larger parties. Both long walls are decorated with neutral artwork and accented by antiqued mirrors; a large floral arrangement stands watch at the end of the room nearest to the kitchen. The whole feel of the room is one of comfortable elegance. Once seated, we were given a few moments to peruse the wine list and to consider the possibility of opting for the selected wine pairings (which we chose). Thereafter, the precision and style of Shola’s menu design and approach in the kitchen quickly manifested themselves.

Spring Garlic Soup
roasted parsley-garlic purée, chicken wings, toasted almonds
Garlic, sweet garlic…. This dish was finished tableside by Shola, who poured the liquid component around the composed elements of the plate. A nutty depth of flavor from slow roasted garlic was complemented by the lighter vanillin nuttiness of toasted almonds then brightened by a stroke of pureed parsley. Top it off with Shola’s signature boneless chicken wings and, in spite of the few skeletal shards I found in mine, you’ve got a bowl of goodness. In my experience, Shola has few peers when it comes to masterfully coaxing the maximum of flavor into his soups without making them at all cumbersome. I can still savor the tastes and aromas of the corn chowder he served at my first meal at StudioKitchen many moons ago.

Wine pairing: Vouvray “Les Argiles,” Prince Poniatowski/Francois Chidaine 2004
The most thoughtful match of the night. I’ve long felt there’s an almost supernatural affinity between Loire Chenin Blancs, Vouvray in particular, and creamy, garlic influenced dishes. Vouvray is also a wine – thanks to its vibrant acidity and frequent touch of residual sugar – that can handle the difficult task of pairing with hot soups. The 2004 “Les Argiles” is a fully dry style but had enough ripeness and flesh to take the soup in stride.


Sweet Corn - Parmesan Custard
black truffle caramel, toasted brioche
I have to admit I didn’t understand this dish. The components, separately, were all quite delicious and the conceptualization is one of the more edgy things I’ve experienced even from the StudioKitchen cadre. I’m just not sure everything came together in harmony. Perhaps it’s just me being persnickety but, in spite of the custard description/component, it also struck me very much as a second soup course. Of course, I did happily clean my plate….

Wine pairing: Bourgogne Aligoté, Patrice Rion 2004
I liked the wine, I found the dish interesting, they did not clash yet they did each other no favors. It was not a bad pairing, just not one that found anything extra in the marriage. From a service perspective, it became clear that there is a need for some additional wine training among the staff at M. Our waiter described the wine as Chardonnay. Though it is permissible to include a small amount of Chardonnay in wines labeled as Bourgogne Aligoté, it is not a typical practice. As for Patrice’s wine, it is an uncommonly rich selection of 100% Aligoté from a plot of very old vines in the commune of Nuits-St.-Georges. Was the staff member’s error the end of the world? No, but diners who might otherwise be unfamiliar with the wine would be likely to take the (mis)information as fact.

Roasted Suzuki
caramelized eggplant-pistachio caponata, sultanas, lovage, yuzu brown butter
It’s hard not to enjoy perfectly cooked striped bass, its crispy skin accenting tender, flavorful flesh. Set atop the most multi-culturally diverse mixture of ingredients of the evening, it came alive. The earthy and spicy eggplant-pistachio caponata (Mediterranean) combined with the sweetness of sultanas (North African) and the zip of yuzu (Japanese) to provide a dizzying array of flavors. I think the dish may have been more discretely delicious without the sour tang of the yuzu but the range of flavors still worked.

Wine pairing: Tocai Friulano, Roncús 2003
This was the clear poor pairing of the night. Tocai’s usual floral and spicy aromatics, medium body and crispness were cooked away by the hot, dry growing season of 2003, resulting in an out of balance wine showing fat textures, high alcohol and flavors more of diesel fuel than of fruit. It’s hard enough to enjoy an awkward wine on its own; it’s even more difficult to match it with food, especially something as wildly flavorful as Shola’s Suzuki dish. A medium bodied Provençal rosé, particularly given the summer season, would have been a better call.

Boneless Rack of Australian Lamb
chick pea purée, braised lamb croquette, fennel marmalade
Sous-vide roasting resulted in perfectly medium-rare lamb with a rich, melt in your mouth texture. The lamb croquette, though a touch dry, brought a more intensely animal and hearty accent to the plate. Finally, pureed chick peas and fennel marmalade delivered earth and lift to balance the meatiness and density of the dish. An overly enthusiastic hand with finishing sea salt – and lamb can handle fairly aggressive seasoning – was the only thing that kept this dish from reaching the sublime.

Wine pairing: Sonoma County “Three Valleys,” Ridge Vineyards 2005
This was the first of two consecutive no-brainer pairings and, oddly, the first of two consecutive Zinfandel-based wines. The regional purist in me would have preferred to see a Chianti Classico, perhaps even a Riserva, paired with this dish. That said, the lush, forward fruit, simple approach and ripe textures of the wine worked comfortably with the lamb. This is the basic, entry-level red in the Ridge Vineyards portfolio, their only wine sourced, as the name implies, from multiple sites around Sonoma County. I’m splitting hairs to point out that it was inappropriately identified on the menu as Zinfandel; at 74% Zin, the wine falls just short of the 75% requirement for varietal labeling in California. Inexplicably, the pour was about half the amount established as the earlier pattern, making it difficult to stretch the wine through the course.

Chocolate Cherry Ganache
smoked chocolate soil, coffee fluid gel, pistachio ice cream
The sublime realized. Upon tasting Shola’s dessert course, my first thought – one that I heard echoed around the room – was “mmmmm, bacon.” Intensely smoked cocoa, in the form of “chocolate soil,” gave this otherwise classic combination of ingredients a kick up to the level of crazy good. Lovely presentation and some damn good pistachio gelato – creamy and flavorful but not heavy handed – didn’t hurt a bit.

Wine pairing: Russian River Valley Late Harvest Zinfandel, Rosenblum Cellars 2003
Rosenblum’s Late Harvest Zin made for a simple, sweet and easy complement to dessert, presenting nothing complicated or expansive, just a pleasing match. More wine service gripes…. It was served at far too low a temperature. While a slight chill may have helped mask the wine’s high alcohol and give it a refreshing edge, serving it stone cold only muted its flavors. Presenting the wine in a tall, skinny glass with a minute aperture only doubled the muffling of the wine’s character, particularly from an aromatic perspective. Form follows function, y’all.

All in all, it was a lovely evening, showcasing flavors and culinary techniques that were true to the StudioKitchen experience. As this was my first visit to M, I’m unable to comment on the regular menu or the typical workings of Chef David Katz and his kitchen staff. It was clear though, from what emerged from the kitchen, that they understood Shola’s thought processes and recipes and were able to deliver at a high level. What I missed more than the extra bit of deliciousness that Shola produces when cooking solo was the personal experience and relaxed pace of dinners at SK. With Shola’s fastidious preparation and organization backed up by a full cook and wait staff, the courses flew out of the kitchen at a dizzying pace. The time from our seating to paying the bill was barely over an hour, not so much the fault of intentionally rushed service as the result of too much precision. I left sated from an eating perspective but feeling like the evening had been cut short in the context of dining. If the talented Mr. Olunloyo does indeed take the plunge back into the regular restaurant world, it will be interesting to see how he translates the intimacy of his art form for the larger stage. His ability to reproduce the quality is already clear.

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Wine and Cheese Classes at Talula’s Table

It’s Monday, it’s happy hour and today’s special is… cheese. Talula’s Table is now offering a series of cheese “happy hours” on Monday evenings. Held in the shop from 6:30 to 8:00 PM, the classes typically place a regional or thematic focus on all things cheese. I’ve been working for the last couple of weeks with Aimee Olexy, resident cheesemonger at Talula’s, to pair wines with her panoply of farmstead fromages. Sessions thus far have covered introductions to the cheeses of Spain and France. Next week’s course, on June 4, will shift to a sociological topic: cheese and wine made by women. The wines I’ve selected for the evening are:

• Pfalz Scheurebe trocken, Weingut Weegmüller 2005:
  Stefi Weegmüller is one of the premier growers in the Pfalz. She turns out some of the cleanest and most characterful wines of the southern Rhine.
  
  
• Dolcetto di Dogliani “Sorí dij But,” Anna Maria Abbona 2005:
  Anna Maria Abbona has been farming 8 hectares of vineyard, planted mostly to the Dogliani specialty Dolcetto, since 1989. Her wines are focused, aromatic and beautifully food friendly – everything that the best Dolcetti should be.
  
  
• Côtes du Rhône “Bout d’Zan,” Mas de Libian 2005:
  In 1995, Hélène Thibon took over the farm that had been in her family since the late 17th century. She farms organically on the western banks of the Rhône, producing bold, fruit-focused wines based primarily on the local specialty, Grenache.

Sessions begin with a brief mingling period, followed by an hour or so of interactive discussion which will cover the basics of cheese making, general information relative to the theme of the evening, the finer points of cheese and wine pairing, and detailed information about each selection. As hard as Aimee and I work on making the pairings harmonize, she also delights in taking advantage of the available options to create an intentional mismatch. It can be just as eye opening – and perhaps even more educational – than the perfect match.

Classes are priced at $25 per person and are open to twelve attendees. For more information or to make a reservation for a class, contact Talula’s Table directly at (610) 444-8255. And stay tuned here for more information about the upcoming schedule of events.

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Buffalo Soldiers

Is there a more quintessential American food and wine pairing than buffalo and Zinfandel? Whatever your answer, it seemed like a good idea when this Memorial Day weekend presented the perfect opportunity for a long overdue get together with some good friends for a bit of cooking, eating and wine tasting. Besides, what better opportunity would come along to try out my grilling skills on the bison flank steak I’d scored at the inaugural day at the Oakmont Farmers Market? Or to open one of the bottles of Ridge Zin that has been collecting dust in my cellar for the last seven or eight years?

Rod Wieder of Backyard Bison has committed to setting up his trailer at the Oakmont market this season and I was eager to sample the fruit of his labors. Though a bit disappointed on first visit that nothing was available in a never-frozen state, I nonetheless eagerly selected a bison flank steak and a package of ground buffalo. After toying with several preparation options for the flank, including the marinade recipe provided by Rod and a recipe for stuffed bison in the D’Artagnan cookbook, I finally decided on the purist route – grilling with nothing other than salt, pepper and a modest rub of olive oil. The method: a hardwood charcoal fire, direct medium heat and all of about three minutes on each side. The results: perfectly medium-rare, an agreeable workout for the mandible and very flavorful. Bison is not at all gamey, the flavors being more like beef but a touch sweeter and a good deal less rich, probably due to its much lower fat content. All of this spelled good tidings for a well made wine match.

Every time I open the door to my cellar – which includes an entire row of bottles with short, silver capsules – I’m presented with a clear reminder that I cut my teeth on Ridge’s wines. Over the years, what once was unabashed fondness has morphed into more of a passing interest, as my tolerance has waned for high-alcohol, in-your-face wines. The upside of that evolution is that I now have a decent number of Ridge’s bottlings that are approaching or starting into their second decade. Just on the cusp was the bottle selected to accompany the bison: 1998 York Creek (Spring Mountain, Napa Valley) Zinfandel. Winemaker Paul Draper’s label notes suggest that the wine should have passed its prime if not headed downhill by now. My experience, however, has been that Ridge Zinfandels – aside from their simplest bottlings – possess a longevity that far surpasses the norm for a variety not overwhelmingly known for its age-worthiness. This bottle maintained that track record, still showing plenty of red cherry and spicy red berry fruit, softened yet untarnished by age and presenting a persistent backbone of dusty tannins. The 14.9% alcohol level hid well and the wine paired admirably with the lean, flavorful meat.

The concept of marrying things from a place can often work wonders in the wine world. Just think of Roquefort with the sweet whites of Southwest France, a raw bar assortment with a brisk, briny Muscadet, or – why not – buffalo steak with good Zinfandel. Sometimes, though, that practice can be taken too far. Case in point: the wines of Ridge Vineyards. I can’t help but think how much better this wine could have been if not for one major stylistic stroke. Ridge insists on pairing their quintessentially American wines with the use of American oak in the cellar. It’s a match that I feel works to the detriment of their wines, lending them an intense aroma of cedar and giving them edgy, green wood tannins. Even after ten years in bottle, when these tones have mellowed, they’re still unmistakable. I don’t think switching to French oak would render Ridge’s wines any less American; it could simply make them better. One can’t help but admire Paul Draper and the team at Ridge for sticking to their guns. That said, we should never be afraid to question dogma in whatever form it takes.

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Wine with Bill

Less often than I’d like, I find the opportunity to get together with friends to cook some good food. Recently, I did just that with one of my stalwart food and wine pals, Bill. Inspiration for this occasion was entirely seasonal: a ramp romp. Bill’s friends who live out in the Chester County countryside have a tremendous perennial crop of wild ramps growing right on their property. Having harvested far more than they could consume on their own, a generous “donation” was made to Bill’s larder, giving us the perfect opportunity to explore one of the most fleeting flavors of spring. Of course, it also gave us a great excuse to open a few interesting bottles of wine.

Of late, Bill’s been a much more accomplished wine shopper than I. Frequenting one of his perennial favorites, State Line Liquors, and one of his new troves, Chambers Street Wines, he’s been coming up with some pretty interesting stuff. A couple of the more esoteric bottles from Chambers Street seemed like the perfect place to get started….

Vin Mousseux Aromatique de Qualité Medium Dry “FRV 100,” Jean-Paul Brun NV
Brun produces some of the most natural, idiosyncratic wines of Beaujolais. A recent bottle of his 2005 Morgon is among the best wines I’ve tried this year. He apparently has a lighter side, captured in this oddball of a sparkler. Varietal Gamay vinified in the Méthode Ancestrale results in a pink, semi-sweet, low-alcohol, strawberry scented spritzer. Even odder than the wine was its label, black with reflective lettering reminiscent of circa 1970’s “One Day at a Time” bumper stickers and covered with whimsical, multi-lingual words all beginning with F, R or V – code for effervescent. The label would normally have been enough to scare me away but the contents, simple as they were, were hard not to enjoy. At a mere 7.5% ABV, it would make a perfect cold fried chicken picnic wine.

Beaujolais Blanc “Terres Dorées,” Jean-Paul Brun 2005
Not odd in the vein of the previous bubbly, it’s still fairly rare to find a Beaujolais Blanc on the American market. Brun’s varietal Chardonnay bears much more in common with the wines of Saint-Pourçain, neighbor to the west in the upper Loire district of the Auvergne, than with the Bourgogne Blancs of the Macon just to the north. Lemony, lean, minerally and relatively low-alcohol (12%), this would pair well, in lieu of other more obvious options, with a mixed shellfish platter. It was a bit too high in acid and lacking in fruit to pair well with our first course of braised turkey meatballs over gorgonzola dolce with sautéed ramps, where something equally lively but a bit juicier may have better served.

Muscadet Sevre-et-Maine Sur Lie “Le L d’Or” Domaine Pierre de la Grange, Pierre Luneau-Papin 1995
Though also a mismatch with the ramps and meatballs, this was the most enlightening wine of the night. Common wisdom would have it that Muscadet is wine only for quaffing in its youth. It’s beautiful to see, then, “vin de garde” examples like this that are still fresh and vibrant after ten or more years of ageing. Showing a pale golden-green glow in the glass, developed mineral flavors but still primary fruit and lively acidity, this could last another five or ten years with little problem. My interest in this bottling was further piqued by the fact that I sell Muscadet from Luneau-Papin’s daughter's property, Chateau Les Fromenteaux, where Pierre looks after all of the vineyards and viticultural practices. I’ll have to sock away a few bottles of the 2005 Fromenteaux “Clos du Poyet” for a rainy day with expectations that a knack for quality and structure runs in the family.

As we cleared the plates and started on the final touches for our main course of roast chicken with olives and sautéed ramps, it seemed as good a time as any to narrow down our red options. Bill was chomping at the bit for some good Burgundy. And so it was….

Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru “Les Sentiers,” Domaine Truchot-Martin (Jacky Truchot) 2003
I first came across Jacky Truchot’s fantastically expressive red Burgundies in the late ‘90s. I remember being shocked at how pale his wines appeared in bottle, almost rosé-like to the uninitiated eye. I’ve managed to stay in touch with the estate through occasional tastings and chance encounters. His 2003s, like most Burgundies, are atypically dark and rich. Yet the finesse stemming from Jacky’s old-school approach in the winery and natural touch in the vineyards still resulted in wines of real class. The 2003 “Les Sentiers” is drinking beautifully, with silky red fruit, delicate, supple tannins, floral aromatics and Truchot’s trademark sprightly acidity. It’s a pity that the estate is no more. Jacky retired after the 2005 vintage with no heirs to carry on his legacy.

Up to this point, we had yet to touch any of the bottles I’d brought along for the evening. With a bit of effort, I finally convinced Bill to save his ’95 Baudry Chinon for another day. Instead, we pulled the cork on a bottle that I’d almost forgotten in my cellar.

Langhe Nebbiolo, Cascina Vano 2001
Modernist, traditionalist and centrist quibbles aside, Langhe Nebbiolo tend to fall into two camps: those that are produced from the younger vines and declassified fruit in Barolo or Barbaresco vineyards and those that are grown outside of the delimited zones for the big B’s. The former examples tend to be early drinking, gentle and aromatic expressions of Nebbiolo, giving glimpses of the lovely fruit and aroma of Piedmont’s great vine without the intensity of tannin it often delivers. Vano’s wine falls into the latter camp – wines built, because they stand alone, like “baby Barbarescos.” They can carry power and structure combined with fruit and aroma and can provide a wallet-friendly glimpse into the full realm of the Nebbiolo tasting spectrum. They just happen to come from the wrong side of the street.

I knew there must have been a reason that I socked away some of Bruno Rivetti's 2001 Langhe Nebbiolo. There was. Six years on, it was still rock solid. Expansive fruit, merging primary tones with the early beginnings of tertiary characteristics, combined with firm structure and lovely balance to make this wine almost as eye-opening a surprise as the Muscadet had been. Additionally, as much as I liked the Truchot Chambolle, the Nebbiolo matched more adeptly with the zesty flavors of Bill’s chicken and ramps.

By typical standards, we’d properly sated our appetites. However, there were molten chocolate cakes in the pipeline so, since Bill had returned from an earlier trip to the cellar with some “leftovers” from a few days back, we thought we’d finish off with one last taste.

Maury “Cuvée Spéciale 10 Ans d’Age,” Mas Amiel NV
A close relative to the sweet reds of Banyuls and Collioure, Maury paired with chocolate cake is kind of a no-brainer. This ten-year old from Mas Amiel is a great value wine, built in a lot of ways like a 10 year Tawny Port but with slightly lower alcohol and darker, more persistent fruit. In the classic method for sweet red Roussillon wines, the 10 Ans d’Age spends the first year of its life, following fermentation and fortification, in glass demi-johns which are left outside of the winery, exposed to the full forces of sunlight and temperature variation. A further nine years in huge old casks provide a slow, somehow preserving oxidative environment in which the wine develops its final characteristics. Rich yet mellow toffee, raisin, black cherry and raspberry tones ally with low acidity and firm tannic structure to give balance to a measurable level of residual sweetness.

Why shouldn’t all Tuesday nights be so rewarding?

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