Notes from the Vineyard, Part I of ?
May 31, 2007
One of the really cool things about doing this blog in conjunction with Clos du Bois (I originally wanted to call this the Clos du Blog, but I got vetoed—which is good, I can’t imagine it being anything but swirling notions now) is having full access to all the people who shepherd the wines along, literally from vine to glass. 
Yesterday, I got to tag along with Erik and his team of winemakers on a vineyard tour led by Clos du Bois’ viticulturalist (the guy in charge of growing the grapes themselves), Keith Horn (Erik’s on the left, Keith on the right). For the winemakers, it was a sneak preview of the raw material they’ll have to work with come harvest, sort of the wine equivalent of a farmer taking chefs around and saying, “check out these peas, they’re going to be fantastic this year,” or “the carrots are tasting especially sweet this season.”
The morning started out foggy and the vigorous new leaves on the vines looked almost neon green against the gray sky. We bundled up, climbed into a cavalcade of trucks and drove down dirt roads from block to block (vineyards are often divided into different sections, or blocks, that are planted with different types of grapes). It’s just plain exciting to be out in a vineyard, really at any time of year, because the vines are so alive and dynamic during each of the seasons. But right now, in late May, the first little nubbins of fruit are setting into what will become actual clusters of grapes and everything is just brimming with POTENTIAL.
At each stop, for each block, Keith would decipher for us what the vines were telling him (grapes are in the man’s blood and I’m telling you, you can almost hear the conversation going on between him and the vines). The winemakers listened and asked questions about yield and quality while I, like an over-eager second grader, asked about anything that made me go, “hmmm.” (“Why does that trellis look that way when the other one’s straight?” “Why does this row have grass and that one is plowed?” “Could I use these leaves to make dolmas?”). I can vouch for the fact that these guys are a patient bunch.
The upshot of yesterday is that I learned a ton — what “shatter” means (for some reason, I love that term as it applies to grapes), about different “clones” (in the good way, not the scary, sci-fi way) and, of course, the merits of tempranillo (Keith, if you’re reading, that was for you). But it’s waaaay too much to cover in one blog entry, so I’m going to chunk it down into digestible bites and write about a little at a time. Keep an eye out in the coming weeks.
One note that applies to any wine-related subject — mi experts son su experts. That was a bungled take on ‘mi casa es su casa’, but the point is, I’m sharing my access to Keith and Erik’s expertise with you. If you have a question, ask. If you have another subject you’d like to learn about, tell me. And I’ll get the answer for you.
How cool is that?
Cheers,
Lia
Great NYT Article on Kids Meals
May 31, 2007
My friend Catherine brought this article to my attention, in which the author, David Kamp, makes a brilliant—and entertaining—case for serving kids ‘real’ food, both at home and in restaurants. I thought after all the conversation around my That Fresh Feeling post, you guys might enjoy too. Here are a few highlights and the link:
“In short, I came to the realization that America is in the grips of a nefarious chicken-finger pandemic, in which a blandly tasty foodstuff has somehow become the de facto official nibble of our young . . . Far from being an advance, I’ve concluded, the standard children’s menu is regressive, encouraging children (and their misguided parents) to believe that there is a rigidly delineated ‘kids’ cuisine’ that exists entirely apart from grown-up cuisine.the food industry has developed a whole new segment predicated on what the nutritionist Marion Nestle, in her book ‘What to Eat,’ calls the ‘ ‘kids are only supposed to eat kids’ food’ strategy.’
. . . it’s encouraging that some important players in the hospitality industry are taking action on this front . . . like Tony Miller of Latitude 41, the restaurant of the Renaissance Columbus in Ohio. ‘We do not have a chicken finger in this restaurant,’ Mr. Miller said. The father of a 4-year-old girl, he constructed his ‘Fun Menu’ to appeal to children without pandering to them. ‘It features zero fried foods on it,’ he said. ‘We do grilled organic chicken teriyaki, a seared fillet of whatever fish is in season, and a four-once fillet of natural beef with smashed potatoes. I have not received a single negative reaction from adults or kids. Not one. The kids say ‘Man, that’s the best steak I’ve ever eaten!’ ‘
. . . In my family, it’s been a matter of getting back to that simple idea — the kids eat what the parents eat — and cutting off those little fingers.”
Enjoy!
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/30/dining/30kids.html?ex=1338264000&en=310e60c5751da573&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Chocolate & Zucchini in Healdsburg
May 29, 2007
I indulged in a fun treat last week that I’ve been wanting to share, but what with designing the new skin, I’ve fallen a bit behind.
Like many of you, I’m a big fan of Clotilde Dusoulier, the young Parisian of Chocolate and Zucchini fame. It’s been so fun watching her step into success over the past few years—from the initial want to be am a food writer declaration to the launch of her debut book—that I had hoped to catch up with her on her book tour. I was scanning her schedule of Bay Area dates when I noticed that she was going to be in Healdsburg—of all places!
So last Wednesday, on a balmy, sunny evening, Christopher and I headed to Bovolo on the Healdsburg Plaza. We started with a plate of John’s 
renowned Black Pig Salumi on the back patio (Christopher snapped this pic while Clotilde was signing books for me—great gifts! And Clotilde, I didn’t realize you were so tall . . . I was the one in the big sandals 
) and then moved inside for the main meal—Warm Bean Salad with Walnut Arugula Pesto, Lamb and Prune Meatballs with Fregola and (of course!) a Zucchini and Chocolate Cake with Yogurt Gelato. All culled (or adapted) from Clotilde’s book.
When we got home that evening, I couldn’t resist taking a more in-depth look at the C&Z cookbook. What I’ve always loved about Clotilde’s writing, and what comes across loud and clear in the book as well, is her curious, “wow” nature with food—the way she combines what she already knows with what’s-in-front-of-her-right-now and a dab of “what if . . .” thrown in.
I, too, am an experimental cook. I love having my eyes opened to new ingredients—fava beans or sand dabs, say—from a farmer or fishmonger and taking the time to get comfortable with them using the tips and recipes handed across the counter with the bag. But once I have a handle on what an ingredient brings to a dish, I like to let my own experiences and tastes filter their way in. The butternut squash that I first learned to roast with brown butter and sage might end up mashed into a little panfried cake with cumin and cilantro and lentils, for instance. Or tarragon might find its way into fresh whipped cream as a topping for a berry dessert. That’s why I love reading about Clotilde’s own adventures combining tradition and experimentation, putting savory where sweet ought to be and vice versa.
The recipes I’m most looking forward to trying from the book? The Sardine and Tomato Club Sandwich, the Tomato Tarte Tatin (can you tell I just planted my tomatoes and am already dreaming of the harvest?) and, for sure, the Zucchini and Chocolate Cake. But I’m also looking forward to having Clotilde open new doors for me in an attempt to simplify dinner time once Noe arrives. Her Soft Boiled Egg with Artichoke Fingers, for instance, sounds like a delightful way to end a summer’s evening when we’re just too pooped to do do much in the kitchen (especially since our friends are going to have fresh eggs from their new chickens soon!). And Her Two Tomato and Parmesan “Pain Perdu” (French Toast) looks like the perfect dish for when those tomatoes have really kicked in and we’ve got some leftover bread on hand.
So check out the Chocolate & Zucchini Cookbook and let me know what your favorite recipes are!
Cheers,
Lia
Slipping into a New (Blog) Skin
May 26, 2007
Ahhh. Much more comfy. Like changing from a suit to an old pair of jeans. Hope you like!
Have a Heart, Send a Toast
May 24, 2007
I wrote this post about a month ago and I feel like it kind of got lost in the shuffle of my vacation departure. But it’s important, so I wanted to bring it back up to the top of the fold, so to speak.
One of the things I love about being a writer is having the opportunity to raise people’s awareness of things that can make their lives—or the world . . . or both—a little bit better. And (I know this sounds dangerously close to a plug, but I assure you it’s not) Toast to Mom is one of those things.
When you go to toasttomom.com, upload a photo (or not, you can just use one of the cards they’ve designed if you’d rather) and send an e-card to your favorite mom, Clos du Bois will give $1 to WomenHeart, the only patient advocacy organization in America dedicated to women with heart disease.
Why is this important? Because heart disease is the leading cause of death among American women. Six times more women die of heart disease than of breast cancer each year—267,000 in fact. And WomenHeart is working hard to lower that number.
Why an organization focused only on women?
Because . . . 8,000,000 American women are currently living with heart disease.
Because . . . twice as many women as men who have survived heart attacks will have another one within six years.
Because . . . 38% of women, compared to 25% of men, will die within one year of their first heart attack.
Because . . . women display different symptoms than men, which means even though their risks are higher, they’re less likely than men to receive any type of treatment after a heart attack, and are almost twice as likely to die after bypass surgery.
So something is being done right? Well, yes and no. Women make up only 25% of participants in all heart-related research studies.
That’s why organizations like WomenHeart are so crucial. For raising awareness, for raising research dollars, for acting as a voice and a community for women coping with heart disease.
See . . . told you it was important. So go to toasttomom.com, send an e-card, and support women in the fight against heart disease. Gives a whole new level of meaning to cheers, eh?
Cheers,
Lia
Why Do We Fly?
May 23, 2007
I had all these lovely things I was going to write about today, and then I read this article in the NYT about how more and more airlines are charging for more and more “amenities.” Now, let me start off by saying, I understand that airlines are trying to make a few extra bucks by selling meals and chips and, quite frankly, I applaud them for doing that. If we think filling up our car is hard on our budget, just imagine what filling up those planes does to theirs. No profit equals no planes in the air for us to fly on, I get that.
That said, what I don’t understand is why more airlines don’t just admit that it sucks to have your pillow and your drink and your movie taken away, instead of trying to spin it as if they were doing us a favor by allowing us the choice of checking a bag or imbibing water on the flight.
On American Airlines’ website, under Cabin Comfort (as the first paragraph, in fact), they state:
“At American Airlines, our goal is to provide a relaxing and comfortable flight experience for every single passenger (hmmmm -ed). In our cabins, you’ll enjoy the uniquely designed interiors with blue diamond carpets, gray swooping accents and seats with a sharp, deep blue design.”
Now I don’t know about you, but the last time I was scrunched into a seat on a cross-country flight with a stale sandwich I’d paid $5 for, no water (they’d run out), no pillow or blanket, and a crappy headset that I paid another $2 for, those gray swooping accents really made my experience (yes, that sarcastic sass was intentional).
American Airlines’ slogan is “we know why you fly” . . . I mean, come on. Here’s a hint, American, it ain’t for your blue diamond carpets.
OK . . . I promise my next post will be much more upbeat .
That Fresh Feeling
May 21, 2007
Last night, I sauteed the last of the kale from the garden with a few onions we pulled up, Christopher rubbed a Rosie chicken with a paste of rosemary and garlic before sticking it on the rotisserie, (we’ve just discovered the beauty of the rotisserie . . . light the grill, skewer the bird and an hour later—voila—you’ve got dinner) and we had ourselves a simple, soulful meal.
It was SO good that it got us talking. I’ve long believed that food is what binds us to the earth, to each other, to ourselves—but I’m reminded of how true that is when I eat a meal like last night’s. The flavors are fresh, yes. But there’s something more. Christopher said that his body feels healthier when we eat like that. I’d add that my soul feels nourished too. It’s like the chatter and buzz of our busy lives subside for a beat and we melt into the moment before us.
Last night’s experience seems especially significant to me as we get closer to bringing Noe home (just a few more weeks!). It may be idealistic, but I don’t want to feed Noe from containers. I don’t want to rush through dinner onto something else more “kid-friendly.” I want from the very beginning to take her to the garden (or farmers’ market) with me as often as I can so she sees where her food comes from. I want to have her bang on pots while I’m at the stove. And I want to be fully present in the moment we all share the meal—whether she’s playing with, throwing or actually eating the food.
Still forming thoughts around it all . . . good thing this is called “swirling notions” and not “fully baked opinions” .
Summer’s Here . . . Think Pink!
May 18, 2007
If you haven’t yet tried one of the dry roses that are (finally!) hitting the shelves in America, stop whatever you’re doing (alright, you can finish reading this post first ) and get thee to a wine store!
Roses are made from red grape varietals, so they possess the body and flavor profile of those grapes—like syrah, grenache, pinot noir or even cabernet sauvignon. But the the juice is taken off the skins (which is what imparts the color onto wine) earlier than with reds, which leaves the wine a delicious shade of pink with the crispness of a white and the flavor and fruit of a red. I’m telling you . . . it’s a revelation.
I became a rose convert in France over a decade ago. I was having dinner at a little restaurant on the square in Haute de Cagnes, an inland hill town between Nice and Cannes, and had just ordered a plate of salt and chile roasted shrimp. The proprietor, a man from the area who clearly knew how to cook, suggested a rose to go with my dish. I flatly refused. To me, pink wine meant cloying and sweet, and at that point my taste had moved beyond that. But he insisted. And when he arrived at my table with a platter of hissing shrimp, he was carrying a glass of pale pink wine and wouldn’t leave until I took a bite and a sip.
To say it was a great pairing would be cheapening it. Against the spice of the shrimp it felt like jumping into a cool, refreshing ocean and then licking your lips. It was heavenly.
So to entice you to try a rose this weekend, I’m including a recipe here. It’s not an exact replica of “the epiphany,” but it comes close enough. And it gives you an excuse to light the grill.
Cheers!
Lia
{ Butterflied Grilled Shrimp }
1-1/2 pounds large shrimp, with shells
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (if you have pink peppercorns, use those instead)
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated lime zest
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
Heat grill to medium-high. Cut each shrimp down the back with a pair of sharp scissors and rinse out vein. In a small bowl, whisk together garlic, olive oil, pepper, lime zest and salt; brush mixture over shrimp, making sure to get underneath the shell. Cover and let marinate for 15 minutes.
Press each shrimp onto the grill flesh side down to fan it out. Grill 3 minutes, or until just opaque.
Unscrewed
May 17, 2007
OK, here’s the deal. I spoke with Erik (the winemaker at Clos du Bois who is dear enough to answer all my questions) to find out what, if any, technical differences there are between corks and screwcaps and the pros and cons of the cap. Here’s what I found out:
- Pro — A pure metal screwcap basically hermetically seals the bottle, which is great for wines that are meant to be drunk right away — like sauvignon blanc, pinot grigio and other light whites.
- Con — Read above. Some wines, typically bigger whites (like chardonnay) and most reds, need to “breathe” a bit and can become reductive (i.e., smell like a rotten egg) if sealed off from oxygen completely. Apparently this can be compensated for during the winemaking process . . . but it’s a fairly controversial. [See Screwcaps and Reduction in Wine by Jancis Robinson for a much more in-depth discussion.]
- Pro — Screwcaps make it incredibly easy to open the wine and, when you don’t finish the bottle, seal it up to keep it as long as you want (almost). This makes screwcap bottles perfect for picnics and every night wines.
- Con — Again, read above. Erik verified that a lot of the debate between corks and screwcaps comes down to people’s preference. There’s no doubt that twisting off a metal cap diminishes the “event” of opening a bottle of wine.
- Pro — Screwcaps extend the shelf-life of the wine. (For why, see the first Pro above).
- Con — Wines take longer to develop without air which, when it’s a wine that is meant to develop, is not necessarily a good thing—it’s like stunting the wine’s potential, if you will. Granted, some screwcaps come with a sort of Saran Wrap coating in order to allow some breathing, but even these will cause the wine to age differently and at a different rate than with a cork.
Where I weigh in: Since so much of the screwcap question has to do with the relationship between oxygen and wine over time, I’m inclined to stick with corks for the wines I want to keep for more than a year or so—at least until more research and long-term observation has been done. But . . . I have to agree with Christopher below (he’s my husband — don’t worry, I won’t be as smart-assy to other people’s comments as I am to his ), that for a light, summery white or rose, I’m fine with a quick twist of the wrist.
Would still love to hear how glued others are to corks (funny visual, isn’t it). Maybe I could work out a little survey . . . hmmm . . .
Screw It
May 16, 2007
I’m talking to Erik tomorrow to get the skinny on screw caps (personally, I think the subject’s gotten short shrift in the pondering realm . . . I mean we’re talking about retiring the CORK for cripe’s sake!) . . . am still forming my own opinion.
In the meantime my question to you is — screw caps, likey or no likey?
