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.

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.

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.

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.