Vinotable

2012-02-03T13:25:00.000-08:00

Notables

Here at Vinotable, we like good wine. We also like good food. Quite often, we like to enjoy them together. There are many people just like us. Perhaps you are one?

Whether it’s a full-blown seven-course winemaker’s dinner or a pannini/pinot pairing on the patio, some of our most enjoyable dining experiences are at wineries, so we’re launching a new feature. On a semi-regular basis, we will highlight an interesting food/wine pairing from a winery dinner or other culinary event.

First up:

Braised Oxtail Shepherd’s Pie with Januik Winery Merlot

The Winery:
Januik Winery, Woodinville, Washington

• Launched in 1999 by Mike Januik after 10 years as head winemaker for Chateau Ste. Michelle
• Named one of the world’s ten “Masters of Merlot” by Wine Enthusiast Magazine
• Named one of the top wineries of 2011 by Wine &Spirits Magazine

The Chef:
Megan Hartz

• 2004 graduate of Seattle Art Institute’s Culinary Arts Program
• Formerly chef at The Ruins, Seattle’s famed private dining club
• Currently leading the culinary program at Januik Winery
• Creates seven-course Harvest Dinners in the fall and spring, featuring fresh local foods paired with Januik Winery’s finest wines
• Also serves Sunday Suppers at the winery, informal seasonal meals served family-style, with wine tasting preceding dinner

The Pairing:

“Hmm, that’s really tough,” mused Hartz, “but I’d have to go with braised oxtail and a Januik Merlot we served at a Harvest Dinner. I don’t even remember the year, but any vintage would work. Mike makes some of the best Merlots in Washington.”

The Recipe:

“I don’t really work from recipes. Mike had picked a big Merlot from the cellar, so I knew I had to create a dish that would keep up with it. My husband and I had just returned from Barcelona, where we ate a dish similar to this, and it was fabulous. I served it like a shepherd’s pie – braised oxtail, layered with roasted parsnips and onions, and covered with Yukon Gold potatoes. A very rich dish for a great Merlot.”

2012-01-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

Oil &Vinegar

I love pre-dinner munching. Although they rarely get a headline role, hors d’oeurves are often some of the most creative parts of a menu. Darling little triangles of spanokopita, juicy bacon-wrapped figs, light and savory cheese soufflés. These make a gorgeous array of goodies.

These are also the most satisfying of the frozen hors d’oeurves offered over the holidays at Costco. I learned a long time ago to say “YES” when someone offers to bring something to dinner, even when that someone is a giant marketing behemoth. If Costco wants to go to all the trouble to make complicated and fussy bites of deliciousness, why would I say no?

But I also learned a long time ago that simplicity delights. I love chunks of warm, crispy baguette dipped in a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. The sweetness of the vinegar, the tang of the oil – everything you need, all in one bite.

So I was delighted last week when I stumbled into a little store called Oil & Vinegar. The shop is chock-full of culinary gifts like herbs, mustards, fondue chocolates, flavored pastas, as well as the usual fun array of kitchen gadgets and serving pieces. But what sets it apart is the secret so cleverly hidden in the store’s name.

Oils! And vinegars!

Oil & Vinegar offers a wide array of oils from around the world – olive oils from Tuscany, Morocco, Greece, Spain, France, South Africa; blood orange extra virgin olive oil, bonsecco extra virgin olive oil, oils with basil, truffles, lemon; even a delicious tangy grapeseed oil from a supplier right here in Washington.

The vinegars are just as varied – strawberry balsam, elderflower apple lime, cassis orange, fig balsam. The list is endlessly creative. A table full of samples in the middle of the store allows you to mix and match flavors hitting all corners of your tastebuds. It’s all dispensed from luminous amphoras mounted on a wall spanning the width of the store. You can buy one of the cute containers they sell, and have them fill it with the oils or vinegars of your choice. Or you can bring in your own bottle. Very alluring.

But guess what came home with me? Chocolate balsamic vinegar. Not pomegranate balsam vinegar, not passion fruit balsam, not date balsam crème. Chocolate. It was an amazing taste discovery. By itself it is delicious – a murky cocoa flavor swimming in the intense wine-dark sea of vinegar. Ok, maybe not quite that epic, but it was darn good. The flavor really sang, however, when the staff at Oil & Vinegar handed me a sample of chocolate balsamic vinegar mixed with grapeseed oil. It had a bright, spring-like fruitiness, a sunnier flavor than olive oil, and the cocoa tones blended quietly into the happy combination.

This little shop happens to be in Spokane, a two-and-a-half-hour drive from my home, so I won’t be popping in on the spur of the moment. But I will be back. Oil & Vinegar is a franchise business that originated in the Netherlands. It hasn’t made very deep inroads into the US yet – there are only nine stores here right now – although it’s such a fun concept I imagine we’ll be seeing more soon. Fortunately, they offer some of their more popular items online at http://www.oilandvinegarusa.com/. Worth a visit.

2011-11-14T15:07:00.000-08:00

The other side of the world

Nothing lends itself to artful depictions more than a vineyard. Rolling hills, gentle green canopies, plump grapes – magnificent. I love pictures of vineyards and their surrounding environments. In Eastern Washington, we live in the midst of some breathtaking vistas.

But getting out of your comfort zone every once in awhile can lead to whole new outlooks. So I went to Africa. My husband, his brother and our sister-in-law just finished an up-and-down, all-around trip to South Africa and Mozambique. We were visiting a few of our kids – my daughter and nephew – who are adventurous souls, devoting a good chunk of their youth to working with other cultures in a far corner of the world. The Peace Corps brought them both to Africa. Cathy lives in a Zulu village, working with the women and youth there.

Marty is in Mozambique, leading a massive effort to replant Mount Gorongosa, a wildy rich and diverse ecosystem that has been stripped by poachers and loggers. They have big jobs with huge challenges, and enough optimism and energy to accomplish great things.

And they brought us to South Africa. This is a big country, encompassing vast deserts, towering mountains and a long and beautiful coastline fingering through two different oceans. The Atlantic and the Indian Oceans flow into each other at the Cape of Good Hope, producing cooling breezes that bathe the vineyards and olive orchards spilling down the granite and sandstone slopes at the base of the mountains.

This is one gorgeous piece of the world.

With some gorgeous vineyards

And some gorgeous wines. Here’s the thing about touring a new wine region – I never feel as if I found the best of the best. We had only one day in the Stellenbosch and Paarl regions, and we stopped at only four or five wineries. We had some great wines, some so-so bottles, and at least one that was downright bad.

But we tasted enough intriguing wines in the midst of some of the world’s most beautiful vineyards to make it a memorable day. Our tour included the largest corporate-style wine cooperative in the country,

along with several privately owned, albeit commercially oriented, wineries.

What we missed were the small producers, the hands-on artisan winemakers, the likes of which make up the vast majority of Washington’s 700-plus wineries. South Africa’s industry is centuries older than the New World’s, so the mom-n-pop wineries aren’t so prevalent, but there are certain truths that persist no matter where you make your wine. Number one – you need a great product. And Number two, a marketing twist doesn’t hurt.

Take Fairview. This farm, in the Paarl region, has a long and colorful history dating to the late 17th century. The first wines were made on the farm in 1699. Today, it produces a full menu of varieties including Sauvignon Blanc, Chenin Blanc, Riesling and Viognier, along with big reds like Mourvedre, Pinotage, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and their signature Shiraz. The farm is also one of South Africa’s largest producers of artisanal goat cheeses, all produced from Fairview’s herd of Saanen dairy goats. The tasting fee allows you to taste six different wines, pairing them with a wide array of cheeses. (Notable – White Rock with Apricots, a white-veined blue cheese infused with the sweet fruit. Delicious.)

But the best way to sell wine, to my mind, is to let your customers get a little dirty. We signed on for Waterford Estate’s wine safari, beginning with a tour of the winemaking facility and barrel room, and a taste of the estate’s sparkling wine.

Then we jumped into a Land Rover for a spin through rocky, arid vineyards surrounded by olive trees and craggy sandstone cliffs. Waterford is located in the Blau Klippen Valley. The name means blue stones, and the vineyard’s red clay is speckled with namesake pebbles.

We stopped near a pond at the base of the Olives Vineyard to kick around the rocks while tasting a delicious Blanc de Noir, blended from Sangiovese, Mourvedre, Grenache and Barbera. Next up was a 2009 Sauvignon Blanc, followed by a toasty, cinnamony Chardonnay that had been aged six months in French oak.

Back in the Land Rover, we moved across the farm to a higher elevation planted to red varieties. Kevin Arnold, Waterford’s winemaker and part owner, crafts smoothly nuanced, velvety reds, big with flavors of spice and plum (2008 Kevin Arnold Shiraz), vanilla-tinged red fruits (2008 Cabernet Sauvignon), and rich tobacco (2007 The Jem, Waterford’s signature blend of 60% Cabernet Sauvignon, 15% Shiraz, 5% Mourvedre, 7.5% Malbec and Cabernet Franc, and 2.5% Barbera and Sangiovese).

This was our last stop of the day, and by this time we’d not only pushed our driver deep into overtime, but had begun to focus more on conversation with our wine guides, and the stunning scenery, than on the wines themselves. That’s ok. I’m not a wine critic, just a happy traveler enjoying new views, and I believe that your first spin through a new wine territory should encompass all it has to offer – scenery, people, foods, as well as the wines. I have no way of knowing if the wines we tasted represent the best of Stellenbosch and Paarl, but I'm pretty sure they don't. I do know that we enjoyed them. South African wines are worth exploring again. I’ll be looking for them here at home, where I can consider them in a neutral setting. But I’ll be picturing their point of origin at the Cape of Good Hope.

2011-09-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

Verjus!

I have a French friend who loves to point out English words that are actually French. Giraffe, par exemple. Garage. Restaurant. Weekend. Oh, wait! That’s an English phrase, but it means the same thing in French. Mon erreur.

And of course, veraison. In English, it rhymes with raisin. In French it rhymes with something else, but I’m not sure how to pronounce it. Segolene has been trying to teach me French for about six years now, but it doesn’t seem to be sticking. C’est la vie.

Sorry. I’m kind of beating this to death, aren’t I?

But back to veraison. It’s the point in a grape vine’s growing season when the little green berries stop growing bigger and the vine throws all its energy into ripening the grapes instead.

Acids transform into sugars.

Color deepens.

Flavor abounds.

It also marks the time when vintners thin their grapes. This is one of the fascinating things about growing wine grapes. Unlike any other crop in the known world, quantity is not necessarily a good thing. At veraison, grape growers walk up and down the rows of their vineyards plucking off clusters of grapes and throwing them on the ground. Seriously. Can you imagine an Iowa corn farmer tossing half the crop in the dirt? Or an orchardist inviting birds in for an early snack on the cherries, just so we won’t have quite so many on the tree?

Wine growers do it all the time. Growing the perfect wine grape is a careful dance between the sun, the water and the soil’s nutrients. Too much of one can throw the balance way out of proportion. A grape vine can only produce so much nutrition. The idea is to find the sweet spot where the grapes deepen their flavors and sugars to an exquisite intensity. Too many grapes on the vine results in thin and boring flavors, so growers thin the crop just when the vine transitions from growing the grapes to ripening them. It’s been going on for centuries. In fact, they still celebrate veraison at Chateneuf du Pape with a wild and crazy medieval festival. Check it out:

Did you watch until the end? Did you see the crazy jester? Are you glad you did?

But back to veraison. Despite the practice of thinning the vines, growers make their living on how many grapes they sell. Throwing tons of them on the ground just has to hurt. Fortunately, there’s a remedy – verjus!

(Bless me. Thank you.)

But verjus (pronounced vair-zhoo) is nothing to sneeze at. (Sorry. Sometimes the puns just spill out all by themselves.) It’s the juice of those unripened grapes, and it makes a wonderful alternative to anything acidic you might use in sauces or dressings – vinegar, lemon juice, even wine.

Verjus has been produced in the Old World for centuries. Here in the New World, it’s not quite so well established. David and Patricia Gelles, owners of the famed Klipsun Vineyard on Red Mountain here in Washington, discovered it years ago while on a tour of Australia when they met chef and cookbook author Maggie Beer, who made prolific use of verjus. They have seen many seasons of varaison-thinned grapes rotting on the ground, and David was intrigued by the possibility of making something worthwhile of them.

Today Klipsun Verjus is marketed at select retailers and wineries across the Northwest, but you can order it directly from Alexander the Grape, a venture between David Gelles and his son Alexander, with the stated goal of “conquering the world of grapes.” (Puns abound, and it’s not all my fault.) It sells for $20 a bottle, which makes it a somewhat pricey alternative to specialty vinegars, but it is definitely worth adding to your kitchen arsenal. Because it originates as a wine grape, the acids complement rather than clash with wines served with food. Alexander’s web site abounds with recipes (stewed fruits, cheese cake, risotto) where verjus fills in as an alternative to lemon juice or vinegar.

But you don’t have to get too complicated to experience this lovely liquid. Try sautéing a pan of chicken breasts in butter and olive oil, then deglazing with verjus, finished with a little sage or thyme and a healthy portion of capers. Marinate chicken breasts in olive oil, verjus and rosemary, then grill. Splash a little directly onto a salad of spring greens, sliced strawberries and candied walnuts. Mix it up with a little mayonnaise, basil, oregano, thyme and garlic for a delicious aioli, perfect as a sandwich spread or a dip for fresh vegetables. Try it anyway you can think of.

Enjoy your verjus.

Bless you.

2011-08-18T16:00:00.000-07:00

Daily Chocolate

Sunshine. Cool blue water. Pretty polish. A good read. No shoes.

Why.....yes, that is special!

2011-08-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

Growing good things

One of the joys of living in Eastern Washington is the near-constant opportunity to bring great wines together with fresh foods grown practically right outside your back door. Figuratively speaking, of course. You might recall my feeble attempt at gardening. If not, here's an update:

This is the PUH-thetic tomato plant I “nurtured” this summer. All appearances aside, it is not a victim of abuse. I have been very faithful about watering it, but it began to wither, branch by branch, almost as soon as it bloomed. Must be some kind of fungus or some such thing.

But, just as the tag on the plant promised, it did indeed yield fruit in 60 days. Three smallish but lovely tomatoes. (The large one in the background is store-bought. Well, farmer’s market-bought.)

Fortunately, I am surrounded by people who know how to do it right. I live in the most bountiful corner of the great state of Washington, so I will never starve for a lack of fresh, homegrown veggies. I can simply step out my backdoor, climb in my car and head for a nearby winery that is likely to be hosting a winemaker’s dinner. That’s what we did a few weeks ago when we sat down for dinner at Mercer Estates.

(Actually, it’s not quite that easy. There are plenty of winemakers around here vying to serve you dinner, but not every night. Plus, you have to make reservations, and sometimes you have to belong to their wine club. Plan ahead. I’m just sayin’.)

Mercer Estates is owned by two venerable farming families, the Mercers and the Hogues. Our barbecue feast at Mercer was deeelicious. We started with assorted cheeses, and a tour of the winemaking facility and barrel room, led by Mike Hogue. Mike is a veritable treasure chest of wine knowledge. He is a member of the family that founded Hogue Cellars, one of Washington State’s oldest and largest producers. The Hogues sold the operation in 2001, while continuing to grow wine grapes. They also produce a large and lovely crop of apples. The Mercer family has grown a wide variety of vegetables in the Yakima Valley for more than 100 years. They planted their first wine grapes in 1972. When the two clans joined forces, happy things occurred.

Mike is showing us on the map here the locations of the vineyards that produce the grapes for Mercer Estates wines. Many of them come from the Horse Heaven Hills, location of the famed Champoux Vineyard, which was originally owned by the Mercers. The Horse Heavens are also the site of Mercer Estate’s Spice Cabinet Vineyard, which gave birth to the Mourvedre we drank at dinner, a tasty barbecued steak served with signature Hogue and Mercer family dishes. The Mercer carrot salad was tangy with lime juice, cilantro and coriander, and the Hogue apple pie was just as delicious as you would expect from pie made of fruit grown by your host.

I was delighted when a bottle of Mourvedre appeared on our table. Mourvedre is full of flavors of black fruits, pepper and a spicy earthiness. It’s a paradoxical grape on the vine – hungry for hot, sunny days with plenty of wind, but demanding water at the same time. It’s perfect for the Horse Heaven Hills. Spice Cabinet Vineyard captures the southern morning sun, escaping the intense heat of the afternoon, and the winds howling up through the Columbia River Gorge help moderate the climate.

Mercer winemaker David Forsyth says he’s learning the nuances of Mourvedre. Spice Cabinet was planted in 2004, and the 2007 vintage was the first it produced. It was also Forsyth’s first stab at this variety. The wine shows subdued color and richness, so Forsyth builds a long supple mouth feel by holding the tannins low and in balance.

Mourvedre is often blended with Grenache and Syrah, and Mercer’s bottling is a classic combo of 5% Grenache/95% Mourvedre, delivering a subtle layer of fruitiness. Perfect with the steak. But hold on…….what’s this?

Dessert!

Forsyth is innovating in the winery with Mourvedre, and tasting room manager Jenna Hannan is going one-on-one with him on the menu. S’mores, anyone? Jenna has turned roasting marshmallows into an art form. After the barbecue, guests were invited to grab an oversized marshmallow stuffed with…get ready…caramel!

Along with the caramelly marshmallows came bowls of coconut, almonds, Nutella and the traditional graham crackers and chocolate bars.

And all of it – the savory steaks, tangy salad, and sweet gooey dessert – somehow was complemented by the Mourvedre. It’s a delightful, adaptable and subtle wine.

Only 75 cases of the 2008 Mercer Estates Spice Cabinet Mourvedre were bottled. It’s sold out at the tasting room, but might still be available in select retail outlets. The ’09 will be released in about a year or so at $30. Watch for it – it should be worth the wait.

2011-08-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

Terra Blanca Winery

I’ve spent some time sipping wine in old barns, dark basements and converted garages.
Wineries often pop open their first tasting rooms in just about any space they can find/afford. There’s a lot of charm to be found in off-label buildings. They can make you feel like you’re onto something secret and undiscovered. I’ve always found that appealing in a wine.

But there’s also a lot of charm in a fabulous chateau. Beautiful surroundings don’t necessarily make the wine taste better, of course, but they can certainly make me feel glamorous, and I’ve always found that appealing in a winery. Of course, I also like good wine in a winery. And I’m really happy when I stumble into good wine served in a beautiful chateau.

So let me introduce you to Terra Blanca Winery and Estate Vineyard.

This is one boffo tasting room,

with an alluring Mediterranean appeal,

and some stunning views.

That’s the back side of the Horse Heaven Hills in the background, across the valley from Red Mountain, where Terra Blanca is planted. This tiny little AVA (Washington’s smallest) produces some huge wines, as I’ve mentioned before. Terra Blanca’s wines have attracted a loyal following and many awards. The massive manse grabs a lot of attention, but the real story is in the vineyard. Owner and winemaker Keith Pilgrim has planted more than 60 different varieties or clones that aren’t found anywhere else in the state. He’s searching for the best his vineyard can produce. Terra Blanca bottles around 32,000 cases a year of distinctive Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Viognier, Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling and Chenin Blanc, as well as a premium blend called Onyx. The estate also yields Bordeaux varieties like Malbec, Petite Verdot and Cabernet Franc, along with a sampling of Sangiovese, Dolcetta and Barberra.

Pilgrim says the Cabernet is spectacular (this is Red Mountain, after all), but he’s also been pleasantly surprised by the intensity of the Marsanne, a grape that usually thrives in cooler climates.

In all Terra Blanca wines, look for what Pilgrim calls the Red Mountain signatures -- a chalkiness on the front of the palate before you taste the tannins on the roof of the mouth; a candied orange flavor, like Grand Marnier; and in Cabernet, a violet perfume opening up into the whole range of black fruits, moving very quickly into black cherry, blackberry and chocolate aromas.

Hungry yet? Wait, there’s more. Pilgrim says he has unearthed a lot of different flavors in various Syrah clones, from wild blueberry and huckleberry, to white pepper, and on to leather, tobacco and bacon fat.

Mmmmm. You had me at bacon fat. And chocolate. All at the same time. Like this:

(This beautiful confection, created by the magicians at Tee & Cakes in Boulder, Colorado, has nothing whatsoever to do with Terra Blanca wines, other than it captures in one very real mouthful the flavors Cabernet Sauvignon evokes. Fun, yes? But not available at Terra Blanca's tasting room.)

Instead, you can enjoy complementary tastings of your choice of three wines, or choose a $5 flight (a white flight, Red Mountain reds, Winemaker’s choice, or a Dessert flight). The $5 fee is refundable with a purchase of wine.

2011-07-20T09:51:00.000-07:00

My daily piece of chocolate

I knew a girl in college who found something special every day. Margaret didn’t stumble upon 4-leafed clovers, or diamond rings inadvertently dropped in the grass, or anything like that. Her special things weren’t particularly serendipitous. She made them. And I don’t mean arts-and-crafts, either.

She had a personal goal to do something, taste something, see something, each and every day, to make that day special. I don’t actually remember too many of her tricks (once she hiked over to the registrar’s office and demanded to see her “permanent file”) but the memory of her intent – her grand plan to make the world a special place – has always made me smile. I think it’s a wonderful way to approach life.

This, then, is my tribute to her special world: my daily piece of chocolate.

I started this little ritual about a year ago, when a friend sent a small box of Godiva chocolates to my office as a thank you for writing a letter of recommendation for his application to medical school. Unnecessary, but very sweet, I thought. Then I tucked the box into a drawer and tried to forget about it. Why, you ask? Why would anyone try to forget about Godiva chocolates? I dunno, I was probably trying to diet or some such craziness.

But I was not able to forget about it. Every morning as I unlocked the door to my office, my eyes darted to that little credenza across from my desk where I had stashed the goods. Every morning, I would quickly zip past the credenza and settle myself behind my desk. From here, I could not reach the chocolates. I could see their hiding place, of course, which became a special kind of torment, but I couldn’t reach them. In order to touch the chocolate, I would have to stand up, climb around my u-shaped desk, scramble over a pile of papers stacked on the floor, move some boxes off the chair next to the credenza that blocked the drawer, open the drawer, rearrange the files burying the pretty gold box, then pry off the ribbon keeping said box tightly sealed. (My office, as you might have guessed, is not conducive to quick moves.) Waaay too much trouble for a little piece of chocolate. That was my hope.

But then, I reconsidered. What was I trying to avoid, besides big(ger) hips? Gluttony? Decadence? Self-indulgence? What?

Burying that chocolate was symptomatic of a misguided approach to life. I was trying to eliminate indulgences that could make me soft and undisciplined. No playing when there is work to be done. No resting without a work-out first. No relaxing in the sun when there is a garden to be weeded. No dessert before the vegetables. I was trying to impose a kind of nose-to-the-grindstone, no-nonsense work ethic that would make me more productive, thinner, richer, prettier, stronger.

The problem was, I couldn’t stop thinking about that chocolate. Finally, after fighting the impulse for several weeks, I caved. I climbed across the mountain of barricades between me and Godiva, dug the box out of the drawer, reverently lifted the lid, and delicately selected a single confection. Then I reburied the box, made my way back to my desk, settled into the chair, closed my eyes, and ate the sweet dark caramely chocolate beauty.

It was a very good decision. It made my day special. And it reminded me of Margaret and her quest to make every day a special day. There’s not much nutritiously good or useful about chocolate, but civilizations have gone to war over it because it is so delicious. Not good for you, but good. Chocolate makes people smile. It makes them sigh with pleasure. It makes them happy. And isn’t that good for you?

I hope you find a small piece of chocolate in your life everyday.

2011-07-13T14:59:00.000-07:00

Home for the holidays

Over the 4th of July holiday, we squeezed in a few of our favorite summer activities.

Wine tasting is one of them.

So is boating.

So is dancing.

Just like Michael Jackson. Only better.

What is it about coming home that makes the kids think they’re rock stars? Long live Wii.

But back to wine tasting. We did a quick swing around Red Mountain, stopping off at a handful of the outstanding wineries there, including Kiona Vineyards.

Owner John Williams pioneered the area more than 30 years ago when he and his partner Jim Holmes, who now owns the famed Ciel du Cheval Vineyard across the road from Kiona, planted the first vines on what was a desolate, grass-covered mountain, before there was a road or even electricity there.

A lot has happened since then. Red Mountain is dotted with a growing collection of outstanding producers. The Williams family, including son and winemaker Scott Williams, now tend around 300 acres of grapes. They bottle some delicious Chardonnays, tasty Merlots and big, robust Cabernets, a wine that grows exceedingly well at their warm, sunny vineyard on the lower elevations of Red Mountain. They also bottle Syrah, Gewurtztraminer, Chenin Blanc and Reisling.

But don’t overlook the Lemberger. It’s a lighter, fruitier quaff than the big Cabernets or Merlots coming off Red Mountain, an easy-drinking wine often paired with patio food – grilled flatbreads, burgers, sausages, barbecue pork. Not a lot of wineries bottle Lemberger. Instead, they turn to softer blends of Cabernet, Merlot and often Syrah as their entry-level wine – the bottle priced to quickly move out the door. But when done well, Lemberger has all the character and intrigue so often missing from “everyday” bottles.

And Kiona’s Lemberger is notable. The Williams first planted it, according to John, to catch the eye of wine writers with something a little different. Not a bad plan. It’s also caught the eye of quite a few wine judges over the years. What better place to sample it than from the patio at the Kiona tasting room, with sweeping views of the vineyards rolling across the slopes of Red Mountain. It’s a rock star.

2011-06-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

Dinner with Smasne Cellars

Summer is here, by gum! Sunshine, balmy temps, and mountains of asparagus. Bliss.

This is some of the asparagus I cooked up the other night for a winemaker’s dinner, featuring the wines of Robert O. Smasne.

My friend and cook extraordinaire Carol and I tried to stay close to home, focusing on local foods grown right here in the Yakima Valley, where Robert grew up working in the family ag business. The Smasnes have been farming in the Valley for about 100 years, and Robert has been making wines for about 16 of those. One of his more popular wines is Farm Boy Red, a pleasant little blend designed for everyday dining, and named to recognize his heritage.

The event was a dinner sold at an auction to support the Academy of Children’s Theatre. Our guests were treated to a fabulous meal, paired with wines Robert selected from Smasne Cellars.

Carol and I wanted to honor neighborhood farmers, so I whipped up a few platters of local asparagus toast.

Then we offered some of our local (not) shrimp skewered with local (could be) peaches, followed by sweet carmelized local (sure) onion tarts topped with local (yes) apricot jam, a fascinating local (why not?) blueberry, melon and prosciutto salad, culminating with tender filets in a local (see above) Farmboy Red wine reduction, tasty local (of course) roasted potatoes and more local (absolutely positively) asparagus crusted in parmesan and garlic.

Whew!

Then we topped the whole thing off with mango chile ice. Not local. But who cares anymore?

Turns out it’s harder than you might think to assemble a meal composed entirely of locally grown foods, especially in funky weather years like 2011. Carol and I put together our menu a few weeks ago, wishing with all our might that we could include cherries in there somewhere. There are few foods more gorgeous, more enticing than sweet, juicy Bing cherries. Unless you like Rainier cherries. Or Chelans. Or Lapins. Yum.

But the cherries are only just now coming off the trees. The late, late spring has thrown monkey wrenches into all kinds of foodie things around here, and our “farmboy” winemaker’s dinner menu was one of them. We played it safe and went the mango way.

And a fun choice it was, I might add. Very simple, colorful and sweet. Start with lots of ripe mangos.

Peel and dice them. Add lime juice, lime peel, sugar and a little water. Whip 'em all together, then freeze.

You can get the recipe here, but note a few changes – I used yellow mangoes (much riper than the red ones) and a lot more chile powder than the recipe called for. I also did not use fancy chile powder. In fact, I bought mine at WalMart. I have a son who sprinkles chile powder on everything, from tuna salad to plain buttered bread to breakfast cereal, so I stick to the most cost-effective stuff I can find.

Sometimes I think he eats chile powder by the spoonful, like Pop Rocks (remember those fun exploding candies? the biggest mouth rush of the ‘80s? ). Still fun, and an entertaining addition to mango chile ice. Where the recipe suggests a sprinkling of chile powder, we went with tongue-sparkling Pop Rocks. Much more fun, and pretty, too. Enjoy.

2011-06-17T13:25:00.000-07:00

Pink!

Have I mentioned before that I'm a red-wine kind of girl? Red wine makes me smile. It makes me think of rich meals, warm candle light, the contented feeling you get after a bout of strenuous work. Like a muscular novel or a fascinating man, ain't nothing better on a cold winter night than a robust glass of Cabernet. Or Merlot. Or Mourvedre. So many wines, so little time...

But I digress. And winter is long gone. So time now to shed the heavy cloak of deep reds and go...pink.

I know. People of a certain age (that would be my age) are still a little skeptical of rosés. They've been trendy for a few years, are winning all kinds of awards and turning the heads of wine writers all over the place. But no matter what the critics say, rosés are still pink. They remind me of Hello, Kitty. I'm sorry, I just can't help it.

But recently, out of curiosity, I tasted one. I had stopped in at an obscure little winery near Pullman called Wawawai Canyon. The owners, David and Stacia Moffett, also grow grapes nearby, in a little wrinkle of the Palouse, an area famed for rolling hills of wheat. It's the first vineyard in Whitman County since before Prohibition, and if you've ever been to the Palouse (home of Washington State University-- Go Cougs!), you can see why. The hills are steep, the land is arid, and the heat can be intense. But the Moffetts have seen some success. I tasted a delicious Merlot and a nice Cabernet.

They also bottle an intriguing Carmenere from grapes grown in the Walla Walla Valley. I like a good Carmenere. It's a lighter red wine with earthy, peppery notes, perfect for white meats like pork. Senior Winemaker Ben Moffett was pouring, and when he proffered the Carmenere rosé, I figured, why not, even though I expected to dislike it. But Ben was persuasive. He poured. I sipped. And you know what? I liked it. I really liked it. It was full-flavored, dry, an interesting blend of flavors you'd expect to find in a nice red wine -- the pepper I mentioned earlier, with dark red fruits, a little smoke, but with all the light cripsness you gravitate to on a hot summer day.

And it was the perfect complement to this beautiful chicken salad, festooned with avocados, roasted red peppers and corn, and flavored with a delicate lime cilantro dressing. This is a patio salad, but the day we ate it was blustery, with spring winds hurling themselves across the hills, so we stayed inside. But inside or out, it's delicious. Pull the cork on a nice rosé and give it a try.

2011-06-08T20:25:00.000-07:00

21 Wines

I took a turn through wine country last weekend with a fistful of lovely young ladies who had been waiting for this trip for more than a year.

The occasion was my baby’s 21st birthday. She made me promise a long time ago that I would host her friends for a wine-tasting weekend, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, we set off for Vintner’s Village in Prosser. We had a lovely day, even though I might have put a tiny little damper on the newbies’ first wine tour by telling them to spit and dump. Gross, right?

Sorry, but it’s true. The best wine tasting days end when you can sit down with a nice bottle of something you’ve just discovered, and still enjoy it.

Anyway, they asked for it. At our first stop, everyone just milled around the parking lot, waiting for someone to lead the way. Turns out, that was supposed to be me. So I steered them into the nearest tasting room. The bar was crowded, and the girls politely waited in the background. They shuffled their feet. They looked at me. They waited some more. The tasting room attendant checked their IDs, then gave us all a pour of a lovely Chardonnay. I swirled my glass. Some of them swirled theirs. I sniffed. They sniffed. I sipped. They sipped. I reached for the dump bucket. They stared at me in disbelief.

Hey, if they didn’t want my advice, they shouldn’t have asked for it. Over the afternoon, we tasted around 25 different wines, but I probably actually consumed less than one glass. But I could tell them which one was my favorite (Thurston Wolfe’s 2007 Geologist, a fabulous blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Syrah). I could also pick out the wine (which shall remain nameless) that was my least favorite. The 20-somethings told me the wines all ran together in their minds.

Actually, that’s a normal reaction after an afternoon of wine tasting. Unless they are taking notes like wine geeks, most people sip and chat and sip and chat and sip some more, and end the day in looove with all red wine everywhere. All of it. That’s not exactly the kind of discovery most of us hope for.

My posse did discover a few things. Dumping is good. Swirling the wine opens up the aromas.

“Legs” in a wine means…I forget (and who really cares, anyway?).

Petite Syrah is not even related to Syrah.

Friendly service makes for a great tasting room.

There’s more to wine touring than just the wines.

And at the end of the day, it’s still good to be able to enjoy something cold and refreshing. Even if it isn’t wine.

2011-06-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

Green Stuff
I am a PUH-thetic gardener. I try every year to grow a bounty of herbs, and at that I am fairly successful. Flowers, I’m so-so. But vegetables, well…not so much.

This is a picture of my herb garden, at 10 days old.

It's somewhat....limited. I plant basil every year because I love it. The rosemary is new, because I lost my large, lovely, aromatic plant to the cold, cold winter.

This is my pot of chives. They are lovely, hardy, and bloom early, year after year, with no help from me whatsoever.

And these are pictures of my neighbor’s vegetable garden, shot from over the backyard fence.

Much more impressive, right? I’m including them here just to illustrate the possibilities. Gwen knows how to own her land, to nurture the growing things in her backyard, whether they’re children or lettuce plants. It’s fun to watch. Daisy the German shorthair is also fun to watch, when she's out gamboling across the yard with the kids, tossing her nose skyward in joy. Kids and dogs-- they're good for the soul.

Anyway, as I said, gardening is not my forte, although I have grown some fine children. But I keep trying, even when (like this year) all signs seem to be screaming at me to GIVE IT UP!! We’re suffering through a very cold, wet spring. I use the word ‘suffering’ loosely, considering the nasty weather rolling across the rest of the country. We’re not really suffering. We’re very comfortable, snug in our beds every night with plenty of clean water and a roof over our heads. But we are waiting – waiting, waiting, waiting – for our traditional spring weather to arrive. We have an asparagus crop, thank goodness. But we have no cherries. The hay and alfafa (which I don’t eat, so I don’t really miss, but still) is at least a month late. Potatoes? Well behind schedule. Onions? Missing in action. Melons? Dunno. Wait and see, I guess.

And tomatoes! Weather around the country has driven the price sky high. So I decided to try, one more time, to grow tomatoes at home. In a pot. In the courtyard, which is the only spot in the yard that gets all-day sun and is not filled with a swimming pool or patio.

The delicate yellow flower you see here was already present when I bought this plant. The information card promised fruit in 60 days. That is what sold me. Historically, I can remember to water my plants until the beginning of August, when I am overwhelmed by the rapid approach of summer’s end. I’m always behind schedule. The first of August is about the time I begin to plan the family vacation. Most people book theirs in March. This explains our lame family vacations. Anyway, fruit in 60 days means fruit before I am likely to kill the plant. That’s a good plan.

The information card also said “no staking,” even though said card was tucked right next to a sturdy green stake. So the information card might, just might, be inaccurate. But we’ll know in about 50 days. I’ll keep you posted.

2010-07-26T15:58:00.000-07:00

Refreshing recycling

The owners of Davenlore Winery in Prosser, Washington understand one of the basic truths of wine – it’s all about making friends. Gordon Taylor and his wife Joan Davenport both have a background in agriculturally related sciences (she is a soil researcher at Washington State University, he is a process engineer with a background in fruit juice production), and they bottle some lovely wines at their winery in the hills overlooking Prosser. Like all small producers, they face the challenge of moving those wines into the consumers’ hands. You can do this a couple of different ways – through a tasting room, for example, or at wine festivals. Restaurant sales account for a lot of Davenlore’s distribution. Look for their wines at local restaurants like Tuscany Italian Bistro and Picazo 7Seventeen.

Davenlore staff happily sells

Recovery Red in reusable

bottles at area farmers markets.

But one of the best ways to drink Davenlore Wines is from the refillable bottles Gordon sells at local farmer’s markets. Yep, refillable. From May through October, you can find him at the markets in Prosser and nearby Richland, where he sells a full array of Davenlore wines, including Recovery Red, a value-priced blend sold in reusable bottles. The first bottle costs around $20. Take it home, drink it, clean the bottle, then return to the farmers market the next week to trade the empty bottle for a new one, for about half the price. You can also replace it at Davenlore’s tasting room. The blend is also available in a traditional bottle for $15.

There are a lot of fun things about this kind of marketing. The recyclable bottles are interesting – different, without the questionable aura surrounding boxed wines, for example. And of course, they are eco-friendly. But mostly it’s a kick to chat with Gordon. Getting to know your winemaker in a down-to-earth setting like a farmers market is just plain nice.

Taylor's big red wines carry discernible oak balancing the fruit flavors. He and Davenport tend a tiny vineyard at their property, but they source most of their fruit from the Horse Heaven Hills, including the Alder Ridge, Zephyr Canyon and Double Canyon vineyards, where Taylor finds the hefty tannins and structure he loves, along with good fruit integration. But he’s equally as excited about his dry Riesling, a German-style wine with no residual sugars.

Recovery Red is the only wine Davenlore sells in the reusable bottles, but their list includes a wide array of varieties, including Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Merlot, Durif (also known as Petite Syrah, a variety not related to Syrah) and Riesling, along with a Syrah port and another blend called Red Tale.

2010-07-16T10:14:00.000-07:00

It's all about the blends

Bunnell Family Cellar bottled its first vintage in 2004, but the expertise behind the labels has been a force in Washington wines for a long time. Ron Bunnell served as winemaker at Chateau Ste. Michelle for many years before opening his own boutique winery in Prosser, after stints at other industry giants like Kendall Jackson and Beringer. And the expertise he honed over the years making huge quantities of wines for big corporations translates nicely at his hands-on venture. Bunnell makes around 250 cases of each wine he bottles, for a total production in the neighborhood of 6,000 cases.

You can taste Bunnell Family Cellar wines, along with RiverAerie, their second label, at the tasting room inside the Bunnells’ other venture, the Wine O’Clock Wine Bar, in Prosser’s Vintner’s Village. But I’d recommend instead that you spend a little money for a tasty lunch and a flight of Bunnell’s Rhone blends. Ron’s wife Susan and chef Laurie Kennedy create delightful artisan pizzas, cooked in a wood-fired oven and served up in a lovely dining room or on the patio, where you can enjoy beautiful views of the Horse Heaven Hills. Order a flight of wines to accompany your lunch, then sit back and enjoy some of the only food available in the Village, while making a relaxed comparison between some of Bunnell’s fabulous blends.

I recently spent a lovely summer afternoon there with two of my favorite people. We shared a pizza, and a flight of the Rhone Chorus – three blends, including Lia (50% Grenache, 20% Syrah, 10% Cinsault, Mourvedre and Petite Sirah), á Pic (52% Syrah, 18% Cinsault, 18% Mourvedre, and 12% Grenache), and Vif (60 % Syrah, 30% Mourvedre, and 10% Petit Verdot). Notice any similarities? Overlapping contents create a category for these wines. But don’t be fooled into thinking the similarity between the blends dominates. Each highlights different qualities, ranging from the softness of Lia to the spicy fruits of Vif. My favorite – á Pic, with its rich toasty aromas and flavors of dark fruit and mocha.
But, as always, the best part of the wines was the discovery, an afternoon spent under warm sunshine, enjoying two of my favorite people, and sipping delicious wines.

2010-06-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

MMMM, Mourvedre…

That was the thought rolling around my head when I woke up this morning.

That, and dang, it’s tough to land back on Planet Earth after a weekend in Wine Heaven.

I just returned from the Wine Bloggers Conference in Walla Walla, two-and-a-half days spent with 300 other wine-lovers and winemakers (plus a few winemaker lovers) in a near-constant state of sensory overload. Not that that’s a bad thing. The organizers, hosts and sponsors did a bang-up job of giving us an up-close look at the best offerings from this beautiful little valley in Eastern Washington. The weekend started off with a dazzling array of wines poured for tasting, along with a lunch provided by a selection of taco truck vendors from Yakima. Delicious. We continued on with lots of breakout sessions devoted to our craft of writing and blogging, nurtured all the way with extraordinary wines and food. Vintages from every corner of the globe dribbled into my glass (Australia’s Mollydooker Velvet Glove, Spain’s Rias Baixas Albarino, and Chile’s Ledya Pinot Noir, for example), but the food stayed gloriously closer to home. Chef Bear Ullman at Walla Walla’s Marcus Whitman Hotel, along with his staff, put on a great show, culminating with a wine-and-food pairing on the final day that left me feeling glad to be alive, and so very happy to be writing about wines and all good things about them. Take a look at some of his fabulous offerings, like Tillia Torrontes 2009 Mendoza, Argentina with phylo bouchee with monteillet chevre, pistachio and chestnut honey:

Or High Note Malbec 2009 Uco Valley, Argentina served with cherry scented duck confit empanadas with mole and avocado:

But back to Mourvedre. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, wine is all about discovery. Some of the most memorable moments of my weekend were wrapped around sips of Mourvedre, an uncommon bottling but one well worth seeking out. The first was a 2006 Yakima Valley Mourvedre from Trio Vintners, an up-and-coming boutique winery that specializes in offbeat varietals. Winemakers and owners Denise Slattery and Steve Michener (above) focus on food-friendly grapes like Tempranillo, Zinfandel, Sangiovese and (mmmm) Mourvedre. This wine spent 20 months in the barrel before Trio released it. With stats like that you’d expect to taste a big hit of oakiness, but the Trio crew blends their oaks with as much care as they do their wines. This vintage was exposed to a mix of new Hungarian, second- and third-year American, and neutral French oak, leaving plenty of room for the fruit to shine through. It’s deep, rich and foresty, perfect for a big, hearty, beefy meal.

My second Mourvedre moment came during an hour akin to speed dating. We got our hearts pumping during a live blogging session, where winemakers raced around the Marcus Whitman’s ballroom, pouring their wines at tables filled with bloggers, telling us all about themselves and their wines in a mere five minutes before scurrying off to the next group. And this Mourvedre was all about discovery. It was poured not by winemakers, but by a couple of tech guys who have developed an iPhone app called AOC Travel Guides, a clever little insider’s view of four different wine regions (Napa Valley/Carneros, Sonoma County/Russian River, Willamette Valley, and Yakima Valley/Red Mountain). They showed up at our live blogging table with a mystery bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. They pitched their app and poured the wine – and we all sat up and took notice. I swirled the wine and buried my nose inside the glass and was slammed with aromas of ….s’mores. Toasty, smoky, cocoa-laden s’mores. I fell in love. And when they asked us to guess which of their four wine regions gave birth to the mystery wine, we all failed the test. The big rich flavors made me guess Red Mountain. The correct answer was the Russian River. The wine was Sunce Winery’s 2008 Mourvedre. The winery’s web site says this wine is completely sold out, which makes me sad. Still, I’ll remember it always, an intriguing stranger I once flirted with in a frenzied, exciting, blurry moment in Walla Walla.

2010-06-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

Lost and found
Wine is all about discovery. I’m not saying it’s normal, but some of my earliest wine experiences involved a green bottle in the back seat of a ’68 Mustang. If you had a similar start, then you too probably have delicious memories of your first taste of a really great wine. Mine was a bottle of Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon (sadly, I don’t remember whose), served with our 1990 Christmas beef Wellington. I’m not suggesting that it changed my life or anything, but it certainly opened my eyes to greater possibilities. I’d long since moved beyond Annie Greensprings, of course, but tasting that Cab was like discovering a whole new planet.

So imagine how exciting it must have been for Dean Morrison when he planted a small plot of Carmenere, the “lost grape” of Bordeaux, in his Walla Walla Valley vineyard, making him one of only a handful of Washington growers supplying this grape. Carmenere virtually disappeared from France in the late 19th century, a victim of the phylloxera infestation that wiped out nearly all of France’s vineyards. Fortunately, it was part of an earlier diaspora of French grapes to South America, where it thrived in Chilean vineyards alongside the better-known Merlot. Eventually, it became so entwined there with Merlot that it lost its identity entirely, and was mistaken over the years for a Merlot clone. It wasn’t until 1994 that researcher Jean Michael Bousiquot positively identified a vine in Chile as Carmenere. Voila. The lost grape lived again.

Morrison leapt on it with glee. He’s sort of a contrarian when it comes to wine grapes. His 23-acre Walla Walla vineyard includes plantings of relatively obscure varieties like Dolcetto, Barbera and Nebbiolo, all native to Italy’s Piedmont region, along with Viognier, Cinsault, and Sangiovese. Morrison in 1999 was also the first in Washington to plant Counoise. His son Dan transforms these varieties into some lovely wines at the family's Walla Walla winery.

All of these grapes fall into a category growers call “sport varieties,” grapes that are traditionally blended to enhance the more robust traits of Cabernet or Merlot. Syrah was once part of this group, although in the last decade it has become ubiquitous on wine lists. Similarly, Washington State Viognier has taken off running.

But Carmenere remains elusive. It’s still used primarily as a blending grape, but it occasionally shows up on shelves as a varietal. My local wine vender stocks a Chilean bottle from Peralillo Winery called Arenal, and it makes a very nice little everyday wine, especially refreshing when you’re looking for a change from Cabernet or Merlot. And just the other night we enjoyed a pleasant bottle of 2008 Casillero Del Diablo Carmenere from Concha y Toro. (“Chile’s very own grape,” according to the label.) But the 2005 Carmenere from Morrison Lane is a lot more interesting, with earthy notes wound around tastes of plums, and a bit of spice as well.

“I was attracted to it because of its rarity,” Morrison laughs. “It was made for a guy like me.” Besides his own winery, his vineyard supplies other producers in the Walla Walla area, as well, including Seven Hills, where winemaker Casey McClellan has produced a couple vintages of Carmenere.

McClellan likes to experiment with different varieties, and after he encountered a bottle of Carmenere at a tasting in Bordeaux ten years ago, he decided to give it a whirl. Carmenere can be like a spicy Merlot, he said, but with a softer body. It’s a bigger grape, and more exposure to the skins gives the wine a more accessible structure than some of its bigger cousins. Seven Hills’ Carmenere is full of red raspberry flavors, white pepper and herbs like tarragon and chervil.

McClellan has had fun with the Carmenere, and he plans to continue making it. “I like to offer something a little different. People seem to enjoy a medium-bodied wine with some exotic notes to it,” he says. But he bottles less than 100 cases, and most of that is sold through the Seven Hills wine club or at the winery. Is it worth the trip? You’ll have to try it to decide. Remember, wine is all about discovery.

2010-05-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

High on Red Mountain

There’s no better place to start at Red Mountain than at the top. Hightower Cellars operates out of a snug little tasting room and winemaking facility perched above a ten-acre vineyard, nearly at the crest of Red Mountain. The views from the patio sweep down the hill and across the valley to the north face of the Horse Heaven Hills, and give you the feeling of soaring above it all. It’s a lovely spot. Tim and Kelly Hightower chose it eight years ago, when they moved their winery from Seattle across the mountains, right to the source.

The Hightowers targeted Red Mountain fruit from their earliest vintage, in 1997. Their wines show off the earthy, brambly characteristics of the mountain, with rich black fruit flavors, and soft tannins balanced by an acidic structure. They use a soft touch when making their wines, hand-sorting, destemming and crushing the grapes directly above open-top fermenters, minimizing the tannins from broken seeds or skins. They hand-punch the must several times during fermentation, and siphon the free-run juice directly into barrels. The rest they pour gently into an air-diaphragm press. As the pressure slowly increases, to as much as 15 psi, they taste the juice until the astringency hits the limit of the tannins they want in their wines. The rest – sometimes as much as 25 percent of the juice – goes down the drain. Twenty months or so of oak, and voila… elegant, complex and delightfully balanced wines.

Most of their fruit is still sourced from Red Mountain, although they continue to blend grapes from notable vineyards like Pepperbridge in Walla Walla and Alder Ridge in the Horse Heaven Hills. But as their estate vineyard matures, more and more of it is showing up in their bottles. Most of the fruit finds its way into their Murray Cuvee, a welcoming and approachable blend named for their dog. In fact, the 2007 Murray is 100 percent estate wine. And with the 2008 vintage they bottled their first estate Syrah. They priced it at $20, putting it in the same entry-level category as the Murray Cuvee, a move that turned out to be brilliant in the tough economy of the last two years. Many wineries, especially those (like Hightower) focusing on higher price points, suffered huge hits during the recession. Kelly reports that Hightower Cellars’ sales stayed level, even though their volume increased. Apparently their fans were happy to stock up on Murray Cuvee, and experiment with the Syrah at the same time.

The Hightowers opened a new tasting room at the winery a few years ago, making it easier to keep regular hours for the public. And that’s important. Hightower produces a bare 2,200 cases of wine a year, and sells a lot of it to select restaurants in the Seattle area, including El Gaucho, Boat Street and Lola’s. It’s available in retail outlets around the Northwest, as well as in Arizona and New York. The remainder is sold at the winery, and it’s well worth the trip to get them. Prices range from $20 for the Murray Cuvee and Murray Syrah up to $50 for the Red Mountain Blend.

2010-05-18T15:20:00.000-07:00

Veggie tales

It’s asparagus season in Eastern Washington. This is truly a cause for celebration. There is no finer vegetable than a tender, slender stalk of asparagus. Throughout spring and early summer we eat it almost every day. I buy it fresh at the local farmer’s stand, just hours out of the ground, and store it upright in a vase with an inch or two of water. It actually makes a lovely bouquet, and reminds me all day how lucky we are to live in such bountiful corner of the world.

I learned how to cook asparagus from my mother. She taught me one way and one way only to prepare it. First, you break off the tough end of each individual stalk by grasping it in two hands and gently bending it until you find the sweet spot, where it easily snaps; too flexible and you’re trying to break off the tender, tasty part, too rigid and you haven’t eliminated enough of the woody base. Then you toss it in a sauté pan with an inch or so of water, cover it and steam it on the stove top for three to five minutes, until the asparagus is bright green, tender and flavorful. Mom always added butter to her vegetables. I throw in a little lemon juice along with it. Delicious.
However, as in so many areas of life, it turns out there is more than one way to cook asparagus. I have several friends who drizzle it with olive oil and a little garlic, roast it in the oven or on a grill, and sprinkle it with freshly grated parmesan or romano cheese. This is delicious, and it sounds simple, doesn’t it? But I screw it up every time. I always seem to end up with the charred and shriveled remnants of my fresh pick. I’m much safer steaming, but even that method can be adapted and changed. I love asparagus cold – steamed for just three minutes, until it’s still a little crisp, then plunged into icy water to stop the cooking process. Served with a dip of mayonnaise and lemon juice, it disappears in a blink of an eye.
Another favorite around these parts is pickled asparagus. This, too, is delicious, and many people pickle their own, although I’m not a big enough fan to take on a project like that. The brine adds a nice little zing, and it’s a tasty way to eat asparagus all year long, but I don’t love it enough to put that kind of time into it. Besides, there are lots and lots of local producers who sell pickled asparagus. You’ll find it at many wineries in their tasting rooms, and at specialty food shops all over the Northwest.
My latest asparagus experiment was a huge success, and extremely simple. But it took me a little while to work up the nerve to try it. Remember, I was raised to believe there is one way and one way only to prepare asparagus, so naturally it follows that there is only one way to eat it – with a thick steak, some fresh-baked crusty bread and a hearty glass of Cabernet. It’s comfort food. Anything else is kind of, well, crazy. But it is spring, the winds are blowing around the hills, tugging caution and the habits of years along with them, and somehow making me a little adventurous. So the other night I took a fresh bunch of asparagus, trimmed each stalk by hand and used my favorite method of steaming, but instead of my old stand-by of lemon butter, I boldly tossed the shoots with some hot chili sesame oil, then sprinkled them with sesame seeds for extra flavor. Delicious, a spicy alternative to the usual, and really tasty paired with garlic shrimp, angel hair pasta and a lovely white wine.

And that’s the really wild part – the wine. I am a red-meat-loving, red-wine-drinking kind of girl. I don’t dislike white wines, per se, but I usually find myself working to finish a glass. But the spicy asparagus dish along with shrimp just screamed for a lighter bottle, so I pulled out a Chateau de l’Aulnaye Muscadet Sevre et Maine, a gift from a French friend who spends a lot of time trying to convince me that French wines outshine our Washington vintages. In a head-to-head tasting between this bottle and a Washington Viognier, I don’t know which would prevail, and it doesn’t really matter. I get tired, so very tired, of reading commentaries on wine that try to pit one style against another. I don’t think a smack-down between regions or countries or even varieties does anything good for wine. But I do know that the Muscadet was delightful. The pineapple and citrus flavors were gentle, smooth and soft, probably enhanced by the low alcohol content of only 12 percent. It made a very pleasant backdrop to a delicious meal. And isn’t that what wine is supposed to do? So for this meal, vive la France. And in the future, I’ll be sipping whites with a whole new outlook.

2010-05-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

Where to begin?

The wine business is a funny critter. It’s not enough to make a great product. You also have to sell it, and that’s not as easy as one might think. Friendly people who love to drink wine are plentiful. Getting them to your bottle is another story.

That’s why wine makers spend so much time and energy on their tasting rooms. Many of the finest vintners around specialize in small lots of handcrafted wines, and their products aren’t readily available in retail outlets. They depend on face-to-face relationships with their customers. That often means personally delivering cases of wines to select restaurants or wine shops, but it also means getting to personally know their fans.

Many of Washington’s finest wines are found only at the source, so wine tasting here is big business. But with around 600 wineries in Washington state, you have to choose a starting point. Woodinville and the Seattle area are buzzing, and lots of wineries open tasting rooms there to take advantage of the tourism infrastructure. With plenty of hotels and restaurants, Woodinville is a great place to start on a tour of Washington’s finest tasting rooms. But if you’d rather discover wines where they’re made, or at least near the vineyards that give them life, you’re going to have to work a little harder.

Take Red Mountain, for example. This tiny AVA (around 4,000 acres total, with only 700 under production) is one of Washington’s smallest. But its wines are tremendous. Huge. Gorgeous, powerful, awe-inspiring. And, by some measures, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. You gotta come.

Red Mountain juts 5,890 feet out of the dusty, arid landscape of eastern Washington. It lies 207 miles east of Seattle, 66 miles east of Yakima, and 14 miles west of Richland. The nearest burg is Benton City, population 2,964, home of a few small restaurants, a print shop or two, a nursery, a few orchards, and not much else. The mountain is dotted with small homes and acreages scattered among stretches of still-undeveloped desert, and seven or eight wineries that call it home, including such stellar producers as Fidelitas, Col Solare, Hedges Cellars and Terra Blanca. Kiona Vineyards reigns as one of the oldest producers in the area, and newcomers like Hightower Cellars and Taptiel Vineyards are turning heads with some blockbuster vintages. With only a handful of wineries there, you can tour Red Mountain in a day or maybe two, depending on how much you want to concentrate into the experience. Washington winemakers pride themselves on the down-to-earth experience you’ll get at their tasting rooms. You won’t always find the winemaker on premise (Fidelitas owner Charlie Hoppes, for example, shares his talents as a consulting winemaker with a long list of Washington producers, and he can be hard to pin down) but knowledgeable staff in the tasting rooms have a wealth of information to share. Weekends are your best bet – Hightower and Taptiel, for example, have limited hours in their tasting rooms, as does Hedges Cellars.

And don’t let the isolated location dissuade you. The nearby Tri-Cities of Richland, Pasco and Kennewick comprise a healthy metropolitan area of some 120,000 people, with plenty of hotels. The restaurant scene leans heavily toward national chains, but a few spots offer some interesting atmosphere and dining. Carmine’s, in Kennewick, serves homestyle Italian dinners and is a local favorite. Monterossa’s, housed in a railroad car incongruously parked in a city parking lot in Richland, features delicious and original pastas, along with a nice wine list. And Anthony’s, hugging the shore of the Columbia River in a building designed to take full advantage of the views, serves a deep menu of fresh seafood.

But the real excitement is on the mountain. It’s a great starting point for some of Washington’s finest wines.