tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-154874882024-02-27T21:36:09.897-08:00alcotourismHave liver, will travelAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-7492903984114767572007-10-17T13:20:00.000-07:002007-10-18T07:46:03.426-07:00Nobody Talks About Wine Club<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJuUOwYqpUsJ3EIjP6TyFle8JGSrbGs1IKCflR4-Jr8Qfk54YF2rjnDWgfWfPI2vbIjpxPiviGHS2mkgscbud1TOcnHetLKpaq7iqXeNrrzSY7KjOIEDNjWi9yO6IcBIqyTBV/s1600-h/wineclub.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJuUOwYqpUsJ3EIjP6TyFle8JGSrbGs1IKCflR4-Jr8Qfk54YF2rjnDWgfWfPI2vbIjpxPiviGHS2mkgscbud1TOcnHetLKpaq7iqXeNrrzSY7KjOIEDNjWi9yO6IcBIqyTBV/s400/wineclub.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122688063618367362" border="0" /></a><br />Hello, it's been a while. But we're ready to kick this thing back into gear. While not necessarily tourism-related, I thought I could post a few thoughts on a really stupid, but fun thing I'm fomenting. Maybe you can help name it.<br /><br />A lot of people have wine clubs, where they get together every once in a while to eat exotically-prepared offal and quaff wines that Eric Asimov told them to drink (I'm tired of demonizing Robert Parker—let's get after another influencer for a while).<br /><br />The problem with "wine clubs"— Asimov calls his a "dojo"—is that, like a gang of ninjas, you probably can't join one. These clubs are usually for well-heeled braggarts who like to boast about rappelling into a guarded fortress to cat-burgle the bottle of <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/09/03/070903fa_fact_keefe?currentPage=all">1787 Lafitte</a> they brought to the party (which, by the way, tastes like ancient cat piss, though you'll never admit it).<br /><br />I've got a new job in the past few months (one of the reasons for the very light posting), and sniffed out a few wine fanciers in the ranks. As we've rapped around the water cooler about wine and tourism, it occurred to me that it would be even more fun to do so with stemware in my hand. To save money, and to curb our human tendency toward ostentation, I proposed a price cap—a very fair $20. So, after work on October 25th, we will convene in a convenient conference room, each with a sub-$20 bottle, and have at it. Take this advice if you want to copycat: Always invite the HR guy. If he refuses, you're hosed.<br /><br />While I would like to solicit feedback about the usual stuff—good bottles under $20, wine club parliamentary procedure, the triscuit-with-wine-conjecture, and so on, there is another issue I'd like help with. We can't just call this "*insert your company here* wine club." How lame. Asimov has a DOJO, for chrisesakes. I thought about calling it "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fight-Club-Chuck-Palahniuk/dp/0099765217/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2/102-1496533-4460129?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1192653905&sr=8-2">Nobody Talks About Wine Club</a>" in honor of Chuck Palahniuk, but that may be too pop-culturey. I also thought "Sawbuck Wine Club," but that seems to be too much about the money. "NAMBLA" was already taken. So you see, it's tough to start your own wine dojo. Post your thoughts on what we should call the club, and we will faithfully report on the wines we try and the times we had.<br /><br />—The AlcotouristAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-14418707457294908052007-02-17T12:29:00.000-08:002007-02-17T13:08:46.179-08:00A Word to the Wise<p>February is half over, and warmer weather is soon to return. The Alcotourist and I are looking forward to a foray into Long Island wines the moment the ground thaws. And not a moment later, lest we be overrun by crowds of tour busses. I am reminded, not at all fondly, of our misadventure at Rivendell winery in the Hudson Valley.</p><br /><p>The Alcotourist and I have been pleasantly surprised by some of the New York State wines we've tasted. There have been a few stand-out rieslings, sparklers, and cab francs to give us hope for our new home state. The tasting rooms of <a title="Vintage" target="new" href="http://www.vintagenewyork.com/homepage.html">Vintage</a> have been especially good promoters of the best New York has to offer, and I always enjoy stopping by their SoHo location for a few sips and a look around. Because of our pleasant encounter there with a riesling from <a title="Rivendell" target="new" href="http://www.rivendellwine.com/">Rivendell,</a> we decided to take a trip to the winery itself. It was early fall, and we enjoyed the crisp air and scenic drive... until we reached the parking lot. There were two tour busses and at least twenty cars (two parking lots!). We entered warily. What we saw turned our stomachs like a bottle of cabernet left ten years in a boiler room: a winding assembly line of "tasters" moving through to get their swig with no description of the what they were tasting, no interaction at all. As we approached, two stumbling young women left the line, downing their fresh pours, and one said to the other, "Oh, my god, I'm so drunk!" Her friend grabbed onto her as if she herself might topple over any second, glass in hand. The Alcotourist and I hurried out the door without trying a thing.</p><br /><p>The Alcotourist and I understand that Rivendell couldn't help the busloads of tourists (though they could have prevented the stumbling drunks, I say). But I do wish that they had chosen to announce to the group what the wine was, what its characteristics were, and then allowed each a taste. As it was, the pourers informed gulpers simply of wine names or varietals if asked, then moved them along.</p><br /><p>I also believe their determination to attract large crowds led to this display. Rivendell doesn't just sample their own wines at the winery; the room serves as another Vintage tasting room location. In fact, I was disappointed to discover from their list that the only Rivendell wine we could have tried that day was the same riesling we had already tasted at Vintage in the city. While I applaud their efforts to reach a large audience with the finest of New York's wine, they got a little too much of what they asked for. If you set up an assembly line-style service, you get stumbling, drunk assembly line-style tasters. A little intro into the world of appreciation could have gone a long way.</p>Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1146770145293132022006-05-04T12:03:00.000-07:002006-05-08T19:04:43.546-07:00TAP New YorkThis past weekend, the Alcotourist and I made our way up the winding roads to Hunter Mountain ski resort in the Catskills. The ingenious folks at Hunter Mountain have figured out a way to bring us out of our city experience when there is nary a snowflake in sight: TAP New York, a beer and (supposed) food tasting weekend featuring some of the best breweries in the state. A mere two hour drive from the city (at Alcotourist speed), the beauty of the Catskills on a late-April day, a proffered fold-out in a friend's suite--how could we refuse? <br /><br />Tasting began at noon, and the first thing the Alcotourist wanted to taste was an advertised "wasabi veggie dog." A little something to slow the alcohol and keep us standing for more tastings. But after several rounds in all rooms, tents, porches of the festival, we found no such veggie dogs. There were mystery meat hot dogs, foot long hot dogs, and "pizza" that was really a triangle of flour tortilla with some sort of cheese-like substance melted on top. The food protion of TAP New York was truly leaving much to be desired. Finally, I found some warm and salty pretzels and the Alcotourist and I had a quick snack before trying the beer.<br /><br />I must confess that, unlike the ever-ambitious alcotourist, I did not try a beer at every station. The fourteen or so I tasted (mind you, I only drank the whole glass if it was worthy of such attention) were enough to leave me passed out on the aforementioned fold-out by nine thirty. That said, there were some fine beers to be had at the festival, and I will report a few of my findings here, leaving the "awards" and definitive judgement to he who tasted from all.<br /><br />My few additions to his fine list:<br /><ul><li>I am in wholehearted agreement of with the Alcotourist's praise for the beers of <a target="new" href="http://www.sixpointcraftales.com/">Sixpoint</a> and <a target="new" href="http://www.chelseabrewingco.com/">Chelsea</a>. In fact, I had 2 from each of them, in lieu of a single beer from some of the brewers whose swill made the Alcotourist grimace. I have no regrets.</li><li>I'm always glad to see <a target="new" href="http://www.ubuale.com/">Lake Placid Pub & Brewery</a>--I've enjoyed far better pub grub in their glorious lakeside dining room than was to be found anywhere at TAP. In fact, the Alcotourist and I enjoyed an Ubu from Lake Placid Pub & Brewery at Easter dinner with my family, courtesy of my Ubu-loving cousin, Justin.</li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.unibroue.com/">Unibroue</a> is overrated, and the Porkslap Pale Ale from <a target="new" href="http://www.butternutsbeerandale.com/">Butternuts</a> is lucky to have an intriguing name to lure folks into trying a sip.</li><li>I was pleasantly surprised by Duncan Kincaid's "Dacker" from <a target="new" href="http://www.davidsonbrothers.com/">Davidson Brothers</a>. It isn't to my usual dark and bitter taste, but it was perfectly balanced and refreshing--a great summer treat on a hot day.</li></ul><br />I hope we will have more to report soon on our forays to Chelsea and Sixpoint and Brooklyn where they (and we) live. I for one will pass on any "gourmet" hot dogs.Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1146613764594032262006-05-02T16:49:00.000-07:002006-05-09T18:00:15.910-07:00The Alcotourism Awards—TAP NY Edition<center><a target="new" href="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/tappassport.jpg"><img border="0" width="300" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/tappassport.jpg"><br><font size="1">click to enlarge</a></font></center><br />The 2003 Best Supporting Actress Oscar® shall always be a monument to the meaninglessness of awards. Awards are the amalgamation of the ephemeral inclinations, pertaining to whatever objects they have taxonomically curated, by a group that deems itself an authority. Some award-making authorities may fadge with your own inclinations, while others may not, which is the only inherent value of awards in a consumer sense. For example, you may be inclined to agree more with <a target="new" href="http://www.filmindependent.org/index.php/independent_spirit_awards">Film Independent</a> or the <a target="new" href="http://www.sagawards.com/">Screen Actors' Guild</a>'s assessment of a performance than, say, <a target="new" href="http://www.oscar.com/">The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences</a>'s. <br /><br />Marketing and politics (the very vampire parents of every award ever bestowed) usually serve to confuse our picture of reality. The 2003 Best Supporting Actress Oscar®, awarded to the balefully inept Renée Zellweger, is just such an example. The golden statue on Ms. Zellweger's mantle is actually an affront—a desecration if you will—to the very craft that the Academy was attempting to honor.<br /><br />So why do we like awards so much? Awards ceremonies are uniformly boring and insipid. The awards themselves mean little, except to the gaping, reptilian life forms known as publicists and marketers. The act of ordering a group of objects from worst to best is a wholly unproductive exercise. And yet, we long to see the things we like <i>recognized</i>—especially if that comes at a cost to the things we <i>don't</i> like.<br /><br />Aha, you may be thinking that this is a rant against the awards given at <a target="new" href="http://www.tapnewyork.com">TAP New York</a> at <a target="new" href="http://www.huntermtn.com/">Hunter Mountain</a> a couple of weekends ago. Well, <a target="new" href="http://tapnewyork.com/win2006.htm">sort of</a>. <br /><br />First of all, they have two awards, or "<a target="new" href="http://www.tapnewyork.com/cups.htm">cups</a>." According to TAP, <blockquote><i>The F.X. Matt Memorial Cup will recognize the Best Craft Beer Brewery in New York State and The Matthew Vassar Cup will recognize the Best Craft Beer Brewery in the Hudson Valley.</i></blockquote>Huh? Isn't the Hudson Valley entirely within the state of New York, except the little stretch at the end that tepidly touches New Jersey? This geographic nit really didn't open the field up that much—only one brewery from Jersey, <a target="new" href="http://www.ramsteinbeer.com/">High Point Wheat Beer Co</a>, attended. In fact, they awarded both Gold Medals (for best individual beer in New York <i>and</i> Hudson Valley) to the same beer. The TAP organizers further added to the geographical confusion by inviting <a target="new" href="http://www.legacybrewing.com/">Legacy Brewing</a>, from Reading PA (fortunately, this was a happy geographical aberration—see below) and <a target="new" href="http://www.unibroue.com/">Unibroue</a>, from Chambly, Quebec. <br /><br />The F.X. Matt Cup (best brewery in New York State) went to Black Forest Brew Haus & Restaurant. The Matthew Vassar Cup (best brewery in the Hudson Valley) went to <a target="new" href="http://www.captainlawrencebrewing.com/">Captain Lawrence Brewing Co.</a> Black Forest brews a nonplussing list of Teutonic beers. I deigned to taste their Black Forest Amber, which I would use to slake a house fire, but not my thirst. The Captain Lawrence was better—they had a <i>Reserve Imperial India Pale Ale</i> that was good, but it didn't attain the soaring achievements of some of my favorites at the Festival. The other individual medalists were good, particularly <a target="new" href="http://www.lakeplacidpubandbrewery.com/">Lake Placid's</a> <i>Frost Bite Pale</i> and <a target="new" href="http://www.bluepointbrewing.com/">Blue Point Brewing's</a> <i>Hoptical Illusion IPA</i>, but how did the judges single out those particular beers as medal-worthy when there were, in-my-not-so-humble-opinion, way better contenders? <br /><br />Once again, awards are meaningless...<br /><br />...Unless given by me. <br /><br />I am an authority after all—I write this blog. Furthermore, I'm <i>very</i> diligent. In fact, I made a point of tasting brews from every contestant. My taste is, as you dear readers know, impeccable. Additionally, I have no interest in selling tickets or appeasing my invited brewers (as a beer festival would be), nor am I constrained by time, season, or an events calendar. And since the topic is alco<i>tourism</i>, I am also not constrained by location, or space. In effect, the laws of relativity do not apply to me, and I am free to bestow meaningless awards on whomever I want, whenever I want, and for no particular reason other than my appreciation of the imbibe in front of me. It will be everything we love about awards, without the anxiety and obnoxious red carpet <i>couture</i>. <br /><br />Therefore, to christen the Alcotourism awards, I shall bestow these four laurels to breweries at TAP NY that were passed over this year by the official judges:<br /><br /><img align="left" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/chelsea.gif"><b>Best Beer at the Festival</b>: <i>Hop Angel IPA</i>, <a target="new" href="http://www.chelseabrewingco.com">Chelsea Brewing Company, Manhattan</a>. Perfect hop balance with a floral, esterous nose, and a satisfying body. One of the best IPAs I've ever tasted, it belongs in the IPA Valhalla with <a target="new" href="http://www.bearrepublic.com/">Bear Republic's</a> <i>Racer 5</i>.<br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><img align="left" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/sixpoint.gif"><b>Best Brewery at the Festival</b>: <a target="new" href="http://www.sixpointcraftales.com/">Sixpoint Craft Ales</a>, Brooklyn. I tasted every one of the beers from this brewery and all were excellent. Furthermore, I think the Sixpoint crew could take the Black Forest crew in any dark alley up and down the Hudson. When the official cups were awarded, everyone lined up to taste Black Forest again, and there was plenty left in the kegs. Sixpoint was dry as a bone. I briefly considered wringing their bar rag into my glass for one last sip. Of particular merit was their <i>Brownstone</i> (Brown Ale), <i>SMP</i> (Smoked Porter), <i>Encore</i> (Belgian Dubbel), and <i>Righteous Rye</i>, a beer that doesn't appear on their regular list. I still dream of that Brownstone, though. It is the perfect brown ale, unlike the lackluster and syrupy <a target="new" href="http://www.peteswicked.com/">Wickeds</a> of the world. The Alcotouristess may object that <a target="new" href="http://www.lostcoast.com/">Lost Coast's</a> <i>Downtown Brown</i> is the best brown ever, but I disagree, and therefore crown <i>Brownstone</i> the new champ.<br /><br /><img align="left" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/legacy.gif"><b>Conversion Award for Changing My Mind About A Style I Usually Don't Prefer</b>: <a target="new" href="http://www.legacybrewing.com/">Legacy Brewing</a>, for their <i>Hedonism Red Ale</i>. This is the second red ale/IPA hybrid I've tasted, the first being <i>Red Rocket</i> from <a target="new" href="http://www.bearrepublic.com/ourbeers.php/">Bear Republic</a>. I'd like to taste them both together, because I actually think that <i>Hedonism</i> may exceed <i>Red Rocket</i>. The sweetness and texture of this red are perfectly balanced by the unapologetic dry-hopping.<br /><br /><img align="left" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/brooklyn.gif"><b>Honorable Mention for a Big Brewery That's Still Not Afraid to Make a Kick-Ass Smoked Porter</b>: <a target="new" href="http://www.brooklynbrewery.com/">Brooklyn Brewery</a>. Almost as good as <a target="new" href="http://www.stonebrew.com/tasting/smoked/index.html">Stone Smoked Porter</a>, this one was a surprise from Garrett Oliver's crew only inasmuch as it proves that success doesn't have to make you boring.<br /> <br />We were very happy that our favorites were all very close to our new digs. In fact, Brooklyn Brewing's tasting room is just across the street from where we board our dog. We can't wait to visit all the award winners and enjoy these beers again.Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1146613741384927132006-05-02T15:52:00.000-07:002006-05-08T19:27:05.203-07:00Thomas Jefferson: OG Alcotourist<table align="right" cellpad="5"><tr><td><img width="200" src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/passions.jpg"></tr></td></table>Well, this is hardly a review, since the book came out in 1995, but I recently took a trip to my local library and dug up <i><a target="new" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0961352531/sr=8-1/qid=1146610261/ref=sr_1_1/103-7351698-2745424?%5Fencoding=UTF8">Passions: The Wines and Travels of Thomas Jefferson</a></i> by the very meticulous James M. Gabler. I really dig this period of history, and always knew that this particular founding father was an oenophile. It was an interesting read, though a bit repetitive and bogged down in minutae at times. More than anything, I was startled at the sheer volume of wines purchased by Mr. Jefferson. He was given to purchasing hundreds and hundreds of bottles in a single outing. <br /><br />Another interesting theme in the book was the French Revolution. Jefferson took his wine tours just before the butchery began, and I found it interesting and inexplicable that he could hold France's nobility in contempt for the abject poverty of the third estate, while living a lifestyle hardly less aristocratic—upon the backs of the human beings he himself held in captivity.<br /><br />Hubert de Montille declares in <i><a target="new" href="http://www.netflix.com/MovieDisplay?trkid=73&movieid=70025657">Mondovino</i></a>, "Where there is wine, there is civilization." But very often, there are savage social realities that bring the juice to the table. The documentary pointed that out brilliantly when the filmmakers went to Napa to interview the Mondavis. There is a fantastic scene in which the filmmakers spontaneously begin interviewing a Mexican laborer about working conditions during a conversation with the winemakers. The laborer said little, as it was so poignantly obvious that he was expected to pick, and not speak. Such are the lives of those who trod the thin line between worker and slave post-abolition America.<br /><br />So here's an open question—can wine exist without exploited labor? Or is this product of civilization dependent on a caste system where no harvester could ever hope to afford the product he's picking off the vine? I personally think that wine can and should be a pleasure that can be enjoyed by everyone, and that it can be made in a way that is fair to everyone involved on the supply side. We've seen the advent of "fair trade" coffees, and I'd like to see the same thing in the wine industry—some kind of official committment to a living wage for workers in every step of the process.<br /><br />This isn't just the ranting of a bleeding heart liberal—this proposal makes business sense to an industry that is steeped in pretense and snootiness. Invest a little in human capital on the supply side, and watch the demand side grow.<br /><br />One last note, I watched the Merchant Ivory production of <a target="new" href="http://www.netflix.com/MovieDisplay?movieid=60034852&trkid=189530&strkid=36438572_0_0"><i>Jefferson in Paris</i></a> to accompany the Gabler book. What a mess that movie was! Without knowing the history, I never would have lasted all the way through. But it was fun to see nevertheless—the costumes and production design were a great visual complement to a rather dry book.Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1143839000839885892006-03-31T12:09:00.000-08:002006-04-01T08:21:17.693-08:00Rally's-Pride of our Alley; Chambers Street Wines; Melville Vineyards & WineryThere's a little convenience store/deli around the corner from our place. It's got a red awning with large white letters proclaiming its name: Rally's. Upon closer inspection, one gleans that the store used to be called "Sally's," and the thrifty owners who purchased the joint from Sally simply patched over the "S" on the awning for the store's new appelation. So it's that kind of place—hardly what you'd expect to read about on a hooch snob's blog. At first sight, Rally's looks like the kind of place you'd go to get change for the parking meter, or a weak coffee when you've run out of beans.<br /><br />But appearances, says the cliché, are deceiving.<br /><br />Fact is, Rally's has a killer beer selection, hand picked by the owner himself. It's not a Bevmo-style lexicon mind you—there's no room for that—it's just a few choice bottles in a little cooler in the back, many of which are so esoteric, you'd never even see them at a wholesaler. We picked up a some <a target="new" href="http://www.dogfish.com/">Dogfish Head</a> brews the other night—90-minute IPA, 60-minute IPA, and an ApriHop (yes, an apricot-infused IPA). They were even selling <a target="new" href="http://www.dogfish.com/brewings/Limited_Edition_Beers/World_Wide_Stout/17/index.htm">World-Wide Stout</a> ($9.99 for a single 12-oz bottle). We decided to save that for another time.<br /><br />They also have an extensive selection of Belgian Ales, particularly lambics, a couple sixers of Brooklyn Brewing Company's best brews, a few real German and Czech lagers, and some California mainstream micros like Sierra Nevada and Anchor Steam. Rally's one little cooler has more to keep a discerning beer lover busy than any ten grocery stores.<br /><br />In Tribeca, I ran into another find: <a target="new" href="http://www.chambersstwines.com/">Chambers Street Wines</a>. On my way home after work, I stumbled into what appeared to be a little mom & pop place, lured by a display in the window that pimped "mixed case specials"—they do a mixed Red case for $200, and $100 mixed cases of Reds, Whites, or both. Inside, I was pleased to see $10 bottles sitting next to $300 bottles on shelves arranged by region. This portends one of two things: taxonomical errata, or insightful curation of stock based on, in the case of inexpensive wines, extraordinary value for money, and in the case of expensive wines, hard-to-find gems from the great and emerging regions. Fortunately for me, the latter applied. I was delighted to see Pinot Noir from <a target="new" href="http://www.melvillewinery.com">Melville Vineyards and Winery</a>, one of our favorite <i>Sideways</i> country producers. <br /><blockquote><br />Perhaps this belongs in another post, but when we tasted at Melville, there was a couple there with a baby and a toddler. Darling children, but the toddler must have had a sour tummy, and dropped messy bout of diarrhea all over the tasting room rug. The obvious olfactory challenges proved to be a testament to the quality of Melville's wines—not even a fog of baby shit could quell their exceptional character. Next to the remarkable, inimitable <a target="new" href="http://www.seasmokecellars.com/">Sea Smoke Cellars</a>, Melville has the most exciting Pinot program in Santa Barbara County.<br /></blockquote><br /><table width="217" align="right"><td><div align="center"><a target="new" href="http://www.sliceny.com/archives/2004/05/sacs_place_pizz.php"><image src="http://www.jonathanwinn.com/images/sacs.jpg"></a></div></tr> <tr><td><div align="center"><font size="1">Sac's cheese pie, courtesy of <a target="new" href="http://www.sliceny.com">Slice NY</a></font></div></tr><tr></table>I found a nice bottle of Monpertuis 2003 Vin de Pays du Gard La Ramière Counoise for $10, and a $20 Sobon 2003 Amador County Zinfandel Fiddletown next to a wine shop placard that comically praised this 15.1% monster's lack of "alcohol heat," and a $14 Ocone 2001 Aglianico del Taburno. The Monpertuis was dense with blackberry fruit and a little herbal sting. The Ocone was the first Aglianico I'd tried, and it was rustic and impressive with top notes of sour cherry and a shaggy texture of dry cocoa and black raspberry compote—we had it with pizza delivered from <a target="new" href="http://www.sliceny.com/archives/2005/01/sacs_place_pizz_1.php">Sac's Place</a>, which turned out to be an inspired pairing. I'm saving the Zin for a doghouse day when I need the assistance of a proven aphrodesiac. I'll keep you apprised of how that goes, dear readers.<br /><br />Anyway, don't judge a book by its cover, appearances can be deceiving, the ugly duckling is a swan in disguise, and all that. And maybe that's my lasting impression of New York in general—there's so much going on here in every corner of the city that no one could hope to apprehend it all. As a country mouse, I grew up thinking the city mice had it all bad—murderous cats, Victor traps, and urban blight. But those are outward appearances—penetrate them, and the streets really are paved with cheese.<br /><br />—The AlcotouristAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1142875953870992542006-03-20T08:53:00.000-08:002006-03-20T18:08:38.706-08:00On the Town<table width="217" align="right"><td><div align="center"><img src="http://jonathanwinn.com/images/town300.jpg" width="217" height="300"></div></tr> <tr><td><div align="center"><font size="1">Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra in <i><a target="new" href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0041716/">On the Town</a></i>, MGM, 1949</font></div></tr><tr></table><p>Friends have asked about our impressions of New York, and it's a difficult question to answer. We're still tourists here in some sense, though we're gradually making friends and discovering our druthers. Last weekend it hit 74 degrees, and we had a glorious amble through Central Park, but other than that one day, winter has put a damper on our usual free-wheeling, follow-your-nose method of exploring. We also continue to be leashed to a dog who can't stand being alone. He's been making it through the days all right, but howls desperately if we go out at night. Still, when cabin fever strikes, we've left him with his kongs and chew toys to howl as he pleases, the neighbors be damned.</p><p>On the glorious 74-degree Saturday, we paid a visit to what has become my favorite local wine shop, <a target="new" href="http://www.unionsquarewines.com">Union Square Wine and Spirits</a>, which happend to be hosting two free tastings as we walked in. The salon upstairs hosted a tasting of biodynamic wines from all over the world. We even sipped a (very dry) Blanc de Noirs Brut from <a target="new" href="http://www.wineaccess.com/store/unionsquarewines/ecommerce/product.html?product_id=127553">New Mexico</a>. Downstairs, we were treated to wines from Italy, including an excellent $10 Primitivo, <a target="new" href="http://www.wineaccess.com/store/unionsquarewines/ecommerce/product.html?product_id=10753612">2003 Cantele Primitivo del Salento</a>, and a knock-out <a target="new" href="http://www.wineaccess.com/store/unionsquarewines/ecommerce/product.html?product_id=10742269">2003 La Spinetta (Guiseppe Rivetti & Figli) Barbera d' Asti Superiore Bionzo</a>. The Primitivo was especially exciting for me because I confess I'm in a bit of a Zinfandel phase, and Primitivo, <a target="new" href="http://www.sthelenastar.com/articles/2006/03/09/features/food_and_wine/iq_3333137.txt">as it was recently discovered</a>, is the Italian sister of Zinfandel, which was found to originate in Croatia on the Dalmatian coast. </p><p>This Primitivo had nice concentration, with that lively, astringent character I love so well in Zinfandel. The fruit was bodacious with plum, raspberry, and cherry, leaning a little on the sweet side—I usually prefer a little more oak and alcohol in the mix, but for ten bucks, I have no complaints.</p><p>The <a target="new" href="http://www.wineaccess.com/store/unionsquarewines/ecommerce/product.html?product_id=10742269">Barbera</a> was a revealation. Dry and dense, with a Havana nose and a rustic oak finish, it stood up to the Alcotouristess's homemade lasagna like a champ. It's listed at $49.99, but we got it on sale for $24.99. Sweet. Look for the rhino on the bottle.</p><p>Last night, we visited New York's favorite Pizzeria, <a target="new" href="http://www.grimaldis.com/">Grimaldi's</a>, located just under the Brooklyn Bridge with a view of downtown Manhattan. It was an early Sunday evening, yet the wait outside in 40-degree weather was 25 minutes. Perversely, I noticed from the line that the lights were on in the quaint riverside lighthouse that is the <a target="new" href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/12037820">Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory</a>. The Alcotouristess waited in line while I picked up a hot fudge sundae to go, with a scoop of Chocolate Chocolate Chunk and a scoop of the best Butter Pecan I've ever tasted. I took it back to the line, and we shared in the ecstasy of this frozen treat, despite our red wind-licked noses and blue-with-the-cold fingers.</p><p>We were finally shuffled into a tiny table at Grimaldi's, and ordered a large pie with roasted red peppers and onions. We ordered a too-young 2004 "Badia Al Monte Marche Sangiovese," which was fine for pizza but nothing to take home. The pie was outstanding. The dough was thin, yet formidable in texture. The mozzarella (no other cheese is used on Grimaldi's red pies) was fresh and perfect. When we return, we will opt for the simple cheese pie. The toppings were great, but they weighed down the pizza, whose expression is perfect in its thin-crust simplicity.</p><p>We returned home on the train to find an agitated dog. We'd been using our video camera to record his progress with our anti-separation anxiety training, and were disappointed to find pictures of him standing on his hind legs, front paws in the window frame, his head cocked back, howling plaintively for over 30 minutes. Wouldn't you, if you'd missed out on Grimaldi's? </p><p>—The Alcotourists</p>Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1141583498728316372006-03-05T09:11:00.000-08:002006-03-05T11:15:23.356-08:00In the Big AppleWell, we've been on hiatus for a few months, and here's the reason: We liked New York so much on our last visit that we decided to move there, or "here" since I'm writing this from our quaint little rowhouse in Astoria. They say that moving out of state is the second-most stressful thing you can do in your life—divorce being the first. We won't argue with that.<br><br>It's been particularly rough on our dog, who was always clingy, and now has a full-blown case of separation anxiety and can hardly tolerate having us out of his sight. It's been no small cramp in our Alcotourist style. Wine from the local shops and a Netflix membership have been <i>de rigeur</i>. <br><br>But don't despair, dear readers! We still managed to get out a couple of nights with the help of a dogsitter and a little luck. Here are our most recent finds:<ol><li><b><a target="new" href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/41727787/new_york_ny/hop_devil_grill.html">The Hop Devil Grill</a></b> is still one of my favorite beer joints of all time. When I was here looking for an apartment in January, I literally <i>intuited</i> my way back there one night without any directions whatsoever. I've taken to getting their $15 <i>flight</i> of five 8-oz beers to taste as many of the esoteric brews as I can in one night. The bartenders are ale zealots, and can tell you anything you want to know about the beers in rotation on their 24 taps. I also discovered, during my January trip, that Hop Devil makes the best veggie burger in the world—it tastes like bison, yet is totally meatless. We got a dogsitter and visited a couple of weeks ago, and enjoyed an incredible American Pale Ale called "Dales." Brewed in Colorado, this golden-hued ale has the best hop aroma of any in the style since the "Jack Mormon Pale Ale" I tried in Lander, Wyoming (more on that in a later post). Another favorite on tap, surprisingly, was a porter from Yuengling, America's oldest brewery—inky black and smooth as silk.<br><br>We also got the news that Hop Devil was getting six kegs of <a target="new" href="http://www.bearrepublic.com/">Bear Republic</a> (the first Bear Republic Kegs in NYC) the next week. I was there the first night with bells on. Bear Republic makes what I would argue is the best beer in America right now: a Russian Imperial Stout called "Big Bear Black." My favorite Bear Republic beer, however, is called "Hop Rod Rye," essentially a strong IPA with rye malt. This deep copper ale is deliciously bitter and totaly unique. Hop Devil managed to get the following six beers from Bear Republic, which I ordered in a special $20 flight: Racer 5 IPA , Racer X Double IPA, Hop Rod Rye, Red Rocket Ale, Pete's Brown Tribute Ale, Red Wheat. Though I was sad that, through some shipping snafu, Big Bear Black wasn't available, it was still great to see all these beers on tap so far away from Healdsburg, where we'd gone on this <a target="new" href="http://alcotourism.blogspot.com/2005/08/day-1-in-wine-country-healdsburg.html">pilgrimage</a>. Here's my critical run-down:<table border="1" bordercolor="#996600"><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Racer 5 IPA</strong></td><td width="400">They bill this as America's best IPA, and it's hard to argue the claim, even when there are so many excellent beers made in this style today. It is very good--certainly top 5.<br></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Racer X Double IPA</strong></td><td width="400">I am a big fan of Stone's Ruination IPA, and double IPAs in general, but this one suffers from the excellence of Racer 5, which is perfectly executed. I'd rather just have 2 Racer 5s. Not that Racer X is bad--far from it. It's just not as exceptional as Racer 5.<br> </td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Hop Rod Rye</strong></td><td width="400">My favorite Bear Republic Ale. Excellent and Unique without being obnoxious or sickeningly sweet, like say, some Dogfish Head or Magic Hat brews. <br></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Red Rocket Ale</strong></td><td width="400">I'm not a red ale drinker, but this is excellent stuff. As with all Bear Republic ales, this one is robustly hopped and dry—a mix of IPA and red ale styles. This is the only Red Ale I've tasted that isn't completely listless and boring.<br> </td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Pete's Brown Tribute Ale</strong></td><td width="400">The Alcotouristess prizes Lost Coast's "Downtown Brown" above all others, but this is my favorite Brown ale. The brown sugar maltiness is brought to heel by aggressive hopping. Ahhh!<br></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong> Red Wheat</strong></td><td width="400">Well, if I'm not a red ale drinker, I'm certainly not a wheat beer drinker. Still, this is an extremely creative take on the two styles, and appropriately dry and hoppy. It's worth a try.<br></td></tr><tr valign="top"><td width="200"><strong>Big Bear Black</strong></td><td width="400">This wasn't on tap at Hop Devil, but it deserves a mention here anyway. This is, in my estimation, the best beer in America today. Complex, roasty malt flavors; warming alcohol, and perfectly piney hop bitterness and floral aroma. This is the beer with everything. If you can't appreciate it, go nurse your Zima in a Wal-Mart parking lot.<br></td></tr></table></li><li>While at the Hop Devil, I heard of a Victory Brewing event at <a target="new" href="http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7356630">The Gate</a> in Brooklyn the next week. Now, I'm going to throw my hat in the ring and say that Victory is an overrated brewer. Their "Hop Devil IPA" (not to be confused with the excellent Hop Devil Grill, above) is a worty, sludgy mess. Their barleywine is too sweet. Their Imperial Stout was good and dry, but nothing ultimately to write home about. The find in this trip was the Gate itself, especially for those of us with dogs that can't be abandoned. Yes, the Gate allows dogs, and we took our separation anxiety-ridden hound inside and were welcomed. Indeed, our pooch was a hit with the clientele, and got plenty of good-natured pats on the head from passers-by. We'll be back, especially later in the spring when the patio opens. <br><br><img align="right" width="250" src="http://www.artlex.com/ArtLex/r/images/wyeth.christina.lg.jpg">We hadn't been to a dog-friendly pub since the <a target="new" href="http://www.luckylab.com">Lucky Lab Brewpub</a> in Portland, Oregon. This awesome, rustic brewpub with a huge mural replica of Wyeth's "Christina's World" painted on its back wall has great vegetarian-friendly fare and a covered patio where you can enjoy your pint and dinner with your dog. We were so happy to find something like this in our new city, and we openly wonder why there aren't more dog-friendly pubs out there?</li><br /><li>Skeptical as we were about trying a Long Island wine, we decided it was time to brave a bottle and for $12, the Pindar 2001 Cab Franc was worth a try. I let it decant a full hour before venturing to sip--and was pleasantly surprised. Not a complex wine, lacking in some of the fine tobacco I appreciate in some of my favorite Cab Francs, but definitely drinkable and, after two more hours of decanting, a fine accompaniment to some Godiva truffles. A promising introduction to New York wines. Napa it's not, but better than Temecula and for half the price.</li></ol>So, we sign off, promising another update as circumstances allow. We will endeavor to provide a full review this spring of the <a target="new" href="http://www.bohemianhall.com/home.htm">Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden</a>, mere blocks from our abode, and other places to imbibe as we discover them...<br>—The AlcotouristsAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1130365933722956862005-10-26T15:10:00.000-07:002005-12-07T20:44:34.010-08:00Under the VolcanoOn our excursions to New York City, the Alcotourist and I have enjoyed many a nice glass of wine and some very fine beers (Hammerhead Stout comes to mind). But we could always count on one thing to lure us back to smoggy Los Angeles: the finest tequilas. On our last trip, however, we happened—I do mean happened—upon a spot that may yet make New Yorkers out of us. <br />Our original destination was The Ginger Man, a bar of many beers on tap, on E 36th Street near 5th Avenue. The Ginger Man promised amber light and amber beer, but alas, it was crowded, loud, and warmer than the subway on an August afternoon. I would give the bar a chance on a cooler evening before peak hours, with a cravat caveat: many a tie and dress shirt stands between you and your porter.<br />The Alcotourist and I stayed for one drink, then decided to move on or at least get back outside where we could breathe. As we crossed the street to avoid a mountain of piled-up trash bags, we saw a little nook of a place beckoning from under a painted sign: Under the Volcano. We went inside.<br />What awaited was a fine selection of tequilas, a collection of cozy, dimly-lit tables, and relaxed, tie-free folks imbibing. This was more like it. The Alcotourist and I grabbed a spot in the back and got a couple of veggie tacos to get us started, with a fine Herradura margarita for me (yes, a real margarita, frou frou-free with fresh lime, on the rocks!) and a sublime shot of Paradiso for The Alcotourist. There is a reason why they call it Paradiso. It was wonderful and warm, smooth and buttery but with the necessary agave herbaceousness. I tried to steal as much of it away from The Alcotourist as I could.<br />It was heartening to find a place in New York that knew a margarita isn't a limeade slushie with a dash of Cuervo; a place to sip a little agave nectar by candlelight. We ended the night knowing we had found a special spot, away from the Wall Street crowd, away from home. We later learned Under the Volcano is owned by those who own The Ginger Man--for when they need to get away from it all, perhaps? Who could blame them? The oasis awaits...Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1125965514904531302005-09-05T16:20:00.000-07:002005-09-06T14:01:38.900-07:00FermentationsIf ever in Cambria on the central coast, you may want to spend a few sips in <a target="new" href="http://www.fermentations.com"><i>Fermentations</i></a>, a tasting room/accoutrements shop for all things grape. Proceed with caution: they do sell those "Sister Mary Martini" cocktail napkins and various vine-adorned towels and the like. And the service is... inconsistent is the charitable word, and I will be charitable because our first visit was really enjoyable. <br /><br />We happened upon Fermentations through canine serendipity. One early morning, while playing with our dog on the beach in Cayucos, we met a woman and her Aussie Shepherd, who was much better about going into the water than our wave-fearing Weimaraner. While her dog tried to coax and corral ours into the surf, she told us that she worked at Fermentations up in Cambria, and we really should try this amazing $20 Cabernet Sauvignon they carried. We suddenly knew how to spend our afternoon, once woofy was cleaned of sand and sea and resting on his blanket in the room at the <a target="new" href="http://www.cayucosbeachinn.com">Cayucos Beach Inn</a>, a very dog-welcoming little place we'd found online (well, the Alcotourist found it and surprised me--it was our anniversary). Several hours later, we were sampling chutneys on pretzel sticks and sipping a sublime 2002 <a target="new" href="http://www.maloyoneill.com">Maloy O'Neill</a> Cabernet Sauvignon. At $20/bottle or $18/bottle by the case, it was truly a find. Production was limited and they were on their last case, we were told. We purchased a mixed case with a couple of bottles of a crisp, dry Rusack Sauvignon Blanc for those white drinkers we know (I believe it was a 2001 and $15/bottle) and an olallieberry wine by Chaucer--a little tip of the hat to another regional fruit. (A moment's digression--we used to do this a lot, buy a little dessert wine for fun if it was a regional specialty, but I have to admit we've ended up with a motley bunch of fruity muscats, berry wines, and raspberry liquers that we never really want to drink. Because they have taken up so much precious space in our wine refrigerator, we've stopped buying them and are trying to diminish our current supply through gifts at dinners and so on. Like olallieberries? Invite us over.)<br /><br />This first experience at Fermentations was so much fun (I think we even bought a port chocolate sauce or a chardonnay mustard), our satisfaction with the Maloy O'Neill so complete, that we took my parents there when they flew out for the holidays. Sadly, the holiday atmosphere was less than jolly (was it the <i>Sideways</i> effect already? The movie hadn't been out that long). It took a lot of coaxing to get a tasting started by the woman behind the counter. She was so stern and lacking in enthusiasm for the wines, that my dad even wandered off to look at the aprons, knicknacks and overpriced corkscrews. The limited-production Maloy O'Neill we had purchased? Still there, four months later (although, in fairness, it truly is limited production. Why do they feel the need to lie? It's not an "act now, supplies limited" infomercial. This may be a subject for a future post...). We were down to our last bottle of those we had previously purchased, and did in fact buy another, happy to have the chance. My dad made his bewildered Kermit the Frog face at the woman's scowl and I bought him a cream sherry for his trouble. Then we got the hell out.<br /><br />Still, if you are in Cambria for other reasons, I do encourage you to go to Fermentations. Try the Maloy O'Neill (they are onto their 2003, a 120 case limited release, according to their website). It is worth buying and the winery is appointment only. (If you plan ahead, maybe you want to reserve a visit to the winery itself!) If you have the service we experienced the first time, or meet up with the woman whose dog played with ours, you are sure to have a good time. Just keep your eyes on the wine, and ignore those frosted glasses with the grapes painted on them. Try the chutney.Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1125940586787584612005-09-05T09:33:00.000-07:002005-09-05T17:35:45.993-07:00A Few Words About Pizza Port<table align="left" cellspacing="10"><tr><td><a target="new" href="http://www.pizzaport.com"><img border="0" src="http://www.pizzaport.com/portsolana.jpg"></a></tr></td></table>I discovered Pizza Port in late 2000 or early 2001, while training for the <a target="new" href="http://www.aidslifecycle.org/">California AIDS Ride</a>. Some extremely clever fellow had worked out a training ride that began at the Irvine Amtrak station, snaked through the hills of Rancho Santa Margarita, then past San Luis Capistrano, San Clemente, Camp Pendleton (a Marine base, where, pre-9/11, we could actually ride <i>through</i>, including a short spell on an abandoned air strip), San Marcos, Leucadia, and finally, Solana Beach.<br /><br />The thing was, Pizza Port was right next to a U-Haul rental place in Solana. We would all pitch in for a U-Haul, load up our bikes, and then take the train from the Solana Beach station back to Irvine while one poor stiff had to drive the truck back.<br /><br />At the time, Pizza Port was a secondary notion to me. It just happened to be the restaurant next door to the U-Haul place. The first time, I would have gone to the Mexican place up the street, if I had my druthers. But then I knew nothing of the hoppy treasures that awaited me in this humble pizza shack full of wooden picnic tables and coin-op video games.<br /><br />Everybody stepped up to the Pizza-ordering counter (which is separate from the beer-ordering counter), and I was somewhat puzzled by an esoteric <a target="new" href="http://www.pizzaport.com/grub.html">menu</a>. Having lived in California at that point for eight years, I was well aware of the "California-Style" pizza, as interpreted by <a target="new" href="http://www.cpk.com/">CPK</a> and <a target="new" href="http://www.wolfgangpuck.com/rest/expresses/santamonica.php">Wolfgang Puck</a>. These are the pizzas that make New Yorkers laugh at California. Puck's are famous for "no sauce"—WTF?? And CPK is famous for putting anything on a crust—tandoori, pad Thai, Peking duck, you name it. I was hungry (and a little nauseated, as always after a 73-mile bike trip), and really not interested in exotic flavors. Fortunately, I didn't have much choice in the matter, since the only vegetarian (yes I <i>am</i>, what's it to you?) pizza they had was the "Laguna." I ordered a personal-sized one and paid.<br /><br /><table align="right" cellspacing="10" width="40%" bgcolor="#332A24"><tr><td><font color="#956839"><b>Another rule of thumb for the uninitiated:</b> If good beer is on tap, don't bother with anything in bottles. Beer on tap is generally fresher and closer in character to the brewmaster's vision than what you can get in a bottle. That being said, a bottle of Stone always beats an MGD on draft.</font></tr></td></table>Then I moseyed over to the beer-ordering counter, and discovered that they had <a target="new" href="http://www.stonebrew.com/">Stone</a> beers on tap. My mood brightened. Stone, at the time, was just about the best microbrewed beer you could find in Los Angeles. They don't mess around with "Lites," Hefeweizens or any other namby-pamby recipes. They're all about what they call "big character" ales—<i>Arrogant Bastard</i>, <i>Smoked Porter</i>, <i>Ruination IPA</i>, and so on. But I'd already tried all the Stone beers they had on tap, and I wanted to take a chance. If memory serves, I ordered a <a target="new" href="http://www.pizzaport.com/ontap_solana.html">Swami's IPA</a>, which Pizza Port brews on-site, and paid again.<br /><br />It's time for a dissertation on IPA, or India Pale Ale. Let's start out with <a target="new" href="http://www.stonebrew.com/tasting/ipa/">Stone's Version</a>:<blockquote><b><i>The History of India Pale Ales: </b>Originally developed in the late 1700's, British breweries would send beer via sail to the troops and British expatriots in India. Problem was, there was no refrigeration and the ocean voyage took nearly five months. As a result, the beer would usually arrive in compromised condition. Well, the brewers of the time didn't know as much about beer as we do today, but they did know that both hops (where we get the bitterness in beer) and alcohol act as natural preservatives. So, they came up with a brew that was intensely hopped and rather high in alcohol—thus the birth of the "India Pale Ale."</i></blockquote><br />This is one of the few pieces of copy from Stone that isn't totally surly. Greg Koch, their CEO, is an insufferable megalomaniac, and usually the copy follows his snarky, arrogant disposition. In fact, there is a lot to be surly about when discussing the <a target="new" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_India">British colonization of India</a>, and I feel an occasional pang of guilt for loving a drink that slaked the thirst of the minions of the avaricious crown. This can be particularly embarrassing for me when I order a Samuel Smith's IPA at <a target="new" href="http://www.google.com/local?hl=en&lr=&safe=off&client=safari&rls=en-us&q=shalimar+cuisine+of+india&near=Culver+City,+CA&sa=X&oi=locald&radius=0.0&latlng=34021111,-118395556,6558532924184778239">Shalimar</a> to go with my <i>Malai Kofta</i>. For more on IPA, see <a target="new" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/India_Pale_Ale">wiki</a>.<br /><br />Now that you know about IPA, you need to know about <a target="new" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hops">hops</a>. Fellow hop-head and alcotourist, Ken Wells, explains the hop in several extended narratives in his book, <a target="new" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/074323278X/qid=1125940858/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i1_xgl14/002-7913496-2733602?v=glance&s=books&n=507846">Travels With Barley: A Journey Through Beer Culture in America</a> which is required reading for any follower of alcotourism. There are lots of interesting things to know, but here are just a few:<blockquote><ul><li>Hops are a relative of <a target="new" href="http://www.urban75.com/Drugs/drugdope.html">cannibis</a>.</li><li>Cultivated hops are always <i>female plants</i> that reproduce <i>asexually</i> (sorry, guys).</li><li>Hops weren't introduced into British beer until the 1500s, and it wasn't until 1629 that cultivation began in the "New World."</li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.americanhopmuseum.org/history.htm">The Yakima Valley</a> in Washington State is the Hop Capitol of America.</li></ul></blockquote>"What the hell does any of this have to do with Pizza Port," you may ask. Well, it's a good primer for those of you who may wish to order there. Pizza Port is very laid back, and you can, by all means, go and blithely down a few easy-drinkin' pints over a slice of pizza. but I think it's always more fun to know and appreciate what you're putting into your body.<br /><br />So, we all sat, shameless in our spandex biking gear, at a picnic table inside, and sipped our beers until the Pizza was ready.<br /><br />Swami's IPA was fantastic, surprisingly malty for the style, but the bitterness was just the right mix of floral aroma and piney taste. The yeasty esters in the head were another joy to me after a long ride. It should be said that after exercise, one's palate is particularly sensitive, and after riding 73 miles on a bicycle, this IPA was almost overwhelming. IPA isn't for everybody—<i>bitter</i> is generally not a desirable in the American flavor lexicon—but if you open your mind and really try to appreciate how the hop counterpoints, yet accentuates the sweetness of the malt, you may well become a hop head yourself.<br /><br />They called my name and I picked up my pie. It was <i>not</i> the effete California-style pizza I expected. It was thick and robust, the sauce had explosions of garlic and pesto, and the olives, mushrooms, onions & artichoke hearts struck a perfect harmony. The Swami's complimented it beautifully—my hypersensitive palate was inundated with bubbly, astringent, and smoky flavor. It was a good thing that I had a long train ride back to Irvine in which to recover before driving home. Long cycling trips also make you a cheap date.<br /><br />Since that time, I've stopped at Pizza port, whether on bike or car or train rides, almost every time I go down San Diego way. Now, they've got a couple of other restaurants that are closer—one in Carlsbad and one in San Clemente—but there's something sentimental about that little shack in Solana Beach that makes me like it best. I've got the Alcotouristess into the act, even though she's a "malt freak" and not a hop head like yours truly. She likes their seasonal <a target="new" href="http://www.pizzaport.com/ontap_solana.html">Dawn Patrol Dark</a>, a smooth dark ale that's not quite a brown, not quite a porter. We also have discovered their wholegrain beer crust (<i>highly</i> recommended) and every once in a while, you can get a delicious, hearty Mexican pizza with black beans and zesty pico de gallo as the sauce.<br /><br />And now for the biggest treasure of all. Usually, if they're not slammed, you can belly up to the taps and ask to taste a few of the offerings. This is how I discovered "Hop 15," an incredible IPA dosed with 15 different kinds of hops. You will never taste a more complex IPA. It is extremely bitter, though not as alkaline as Rogue's <a target="new" href="http://www.rogue.com/brews.html#brutal">Brutal Bitter</a>. The first thing that strikes you is the incredible floral aroma, somewhat reminiscent of a sundown stroll through the herb gardens at the <a target="new" href="http://www.huntington.org/">Huntington</a>. Then, upon tasting, you get a mouthful of citrus and pine—ruby red grapefruit, lime, and cedar, if you want a Parkeresque list. There's really not a discernable malt base, just the incredible warmth of alcohol. Hop 15 doesn't appear on any of their regular menus, as I'm sure it's not cheap to make, but I never fail to ask if it's on tap when I visit.<br /><br />One last note on Pizza Port. On a recent trip to New York, we discovered a great little place in Greenwich Village called <a target="new" href="http://www.beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/11079/?view=beerfly">The Hop Devil Grill</a>, which merits a full report later. We had just crossed the Brooklyn Bridge on foot, having just had the <a target="new" href="http://www.grimaldis.com/brooklyn.htm">best pizza on earth</a>. The folks at Hop Devil are serious about their beer. They boasted about their super-sophisticated tap system, and were proud to pour us tastes of almost anything that struck our fancy (again, it was a weekday afternoon). We were replete with Grimaldi's pizza, and were happy to see that east coast beers were catching up to the Pacific Northwest (I don't know that I'll ever enjoy the syrupy <a target="new" href="http://www.ratebeer.com/beer/magic-hat-9/1314/">Magic Hat #9</a>, though). Anyway, we brought up Pizza Port, and the owner said he'd visited often and enjoyed the beers.<br /><br />"Shitty pizza, though," he said.<br /><br />We smiled politely. The thing is, New York pizza actually should own the appelation of "pizza"—like the way <i>Champagne</i> is only from <i>Champagne</i>, and everything else is "sparkling wine." Maybe Pizza Port's pizza isn't, by the classic New York definition, really pizza. But it is good in its own right, and doesn't deserve to be called "shitty."<br /><br />Chicago deep-dish on the other hand....<br /><br />—The AlcotouristAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124470648938016532005-08-16T09:46:00.000-07:002005-08-20T19:16:38.263-07:00Wine Country Strategies: revealed!After our recent trip to wine country, our place is teeming with bottles of this and that. A 12-bottle, insulated box of assorted Zin and such in the hall closet. Our wine refrigerator stacked full of special bottles to save for years to come. A few lousy chardonnays and merlots (brought to us, not purchased, mind you) sitting in the wine rack, devil may care if they spoil. Some olallieberry concoction in the door of the fridge, probably too cold.<br /><br />After carting many many bottles home from this trip and those before it, I have seen some better strategies to tackling the tasting/purchasing game of wine tasting. Here are my thoughts, and if you follow even one or two of them you may end up skirting buyer's remorse:<br /><ol><br /><li><b>Don't buy anything the first day.</b> Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. If we hadn't bought the <a target="new" href="http://www.seghesio.com/omaggio2002.html">2002 Omaggio</a> the first day in Healdsburg, Ed Seghesio would never have signed it and we may never have learned of his predilection for <a target="new" href="http://www.tavernasanti.com/menu.html">tripe</a>. But generally, don't buy until you know all of the competitors, unless you can tell it's a sure thing. If you have paid to taste, get a receipt and most places will take the tasting fee off the price of a future purchase.</li><br /><br /><li><b>Pay the extra to taste the reserve wines. </b> They are worth it, and if they aren't, would you really have wanted to taste the regular list? After our recent trip to Napa, I wished I had spent a little more of my money trying fabulous reserves I may never get to try again or elsewhere, and a little less of my money on bottles that were mostly on par with things I could find at the local wine shop in Larchmont. Plus, in many cases, you can avoid the herds of "I only drink Chardonnay" bovines who are looking for Disneyland-style entertainment and wouldn't know a good Cab if it came up and bit them through their elastic-banded walking shorts. There isn't usually much shoving for counter space going on by the reserve wines. It makes the whole experience that much more pleasant.</li><br /><br /><li><b> You don't have to buy anything. </b> Especially if you paid for a tasting. They have made money. Do not feel obligated or guilty. Sometimes, if the counter folks figure you may have money to spend, they try to devote a lot of time to you so you will feel obligated to buy. Be firm. I got really good at politely saying "We're waiting until our last day here to make any purchases so that nothing sits in a hot car." They don't really want their wine turning in a hot car, do they? Also, if someone seems to be spending a lot of time trying to give you a hard sell, you can always smile and say you want to walk on the grounds or step outside with your wine to savor it. The grounds are better-looking than the counter, anyway. The Alcotourist started our trip with the logic that we should buy everywhere to recoup our tasting fees, but I feel this is remiss. For the $5 or $10 you spend on a tasting, you are getting the equivalent of a good glass of wine at a restaurant. How much would you have paid for it? Probably more than $5, possibly more than $10. For those $20 reserve tastings, it's usually not so hard to turn down the wine, because it is typically $100 a bottle or so. Which leads me to my next musing...</li><br /><br /><li><b> Buy a few of the really good, sold-at-winery-only wines. </b> If you have saved money and space by not buying bottles everywhere you go, you can afford a couple of those $60-$100 cabs. And there will be a couple of other wines, not so pricey but only found at the wineries that you can go back for on your last day. Which ones stand out after all that tasting? What tasted like nothing else? Get those memorable ones, get a couple of nice bottles of reserve wines, and if you want some of the others later you can get them at the store back home--or maybe even afford to have some shipped to you from the winery when you've gone through what you have. We bought over a case of wine on our trip, and I wish we'd gotten maybe 4 of the bottles we did, and had money left to get another reserve cab. I'm already thinking about wines I will order or hunt for locally that we tasted, but I didn't need to break the bank with so many bottles right now.</li><br /><br /><li><b> Take this, all of you and drink. </b> Share some of the tastings with a fellow alcotourist. This way, you won't be so obliterated at the last stop you can't even taste the wine and have embarrassing hiccups you would mask behind a hand if you weren't clinging to the counter to remain upright. Many of the places we visited were good, but not so good that I finished my pour. In fact, when you reach hiccup-riddled, counter-clinging tipsiness, you can't finish the pour even if it's the best thing on earth. So share with a friend. Save your palate and your money and get separate tastings only when it's a great reserve tasting or if tasting is free. And even then, don't feel you have to finish even the best of tastes, so you may live to taste another day.</li><br /><br /><li><b> Chill, man. </b> Get a cheap Styrofoam cooler at the store before you go. If you are weak and purchase (or run into Ed Seghesio or a spicy <a target="new" href="http://xyzin.net/">XYZin</a>), you can go on to taste the day away, knowing your wine is not spoiling in the heat of the car. Keep bottles in the cooler, in the trunk, and you may actually want to drink them when you meet again. Also, you may want to keep a few crackers or something in there. Very few places offered any sort of palate cleanser or stomach settler, and all of that tasting can be overwhelming.</li></ol><br />So take these tips and run with them. May you remain upright and financially solvent.Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124597811456243722005-08-15T20:34:00.000-07:002005-08-22T12:54:40.706-07:00Day 4 in Wine Country: Frank Family Vineyards, NapaLet me just begin by giving you a name: Jeff Senelick. If you are planning a trip to Napa, call him at (707) 942-0859 for recommendations. I will. If you are considering purchasing a Frank Family Vineyards wine, also call this number. <b>The <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com">website</a> does not have the most current information.</b><br /><br />Jeff was expecting us. When he found out that we were the ones that inquired from Pinot Blanc a day earlier, he welcomed us, and announced, "I am going to ruin your day." He did. He blew my mind.<br /><br />First, he insisted that we try their champagne. "Ugh," I thought, "Let's get to that cab already." I was pleasantly surprised. Unlike the pedestrian, low-ball sparkling wines we tried at Korbel, the Frank champagnes were, to follow a theme, revelatory. The <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=30&catid=22">Blanc De Blancs</a> was dry and heady. Then we tried one that I regret to say I've forgotten the name of, but I haven't forgotten the taste. <i>Dosaged</i> with cognac, it had an herbaceous quality, faintly reminiscent of a good <i>reposado</i> tequila, actually—think <i>Oro Azul</i>. I know it sounds weird, but it was the most unique champagne I've ever tasted, and that was not the last of the hyperbole I had in store. Next, we tried the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=29&catid=22">Champagne Rouge</a>, a Pinot Noir champagne that actually works. If you like Pinot, you'll appreciate the delicate aroma and flavor of this complex, yet totally fun sparkler. Delicate, but no wallflower, it was a fascinating elixir. We couldn't try the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=28&catid=22">Blanc de Noirs</a>, as there were only 8 cases left, and those only available at the winery.<br /><br />Then we went into another room, and were force-fed the Frank Family Vineyards <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=47&catid=21">2004 Chardonnay</a>. This was all highly unusual, since we'd been refusing whites for the past dozen wineries. But Jeff said we couldn't try the reds if we didn't try the Chard. Okay, Jeff, you're the boss. He pointed out that there was something different about this Chard, and challenged us to identify it. Hell if we knew. Ugly amber bottle? Check. Piss color? Check. Old ladies want to taste it? One had just come in saying she only tasted whites (Jeff complied—bastard). But then Jeff gave up and told us—it <b><i>wasn't chilled!</i></b> It was just sitting on the counter at room temperature. Jeff said the only reason you would chill a Chard would be if you were trying to mask something in the flavor. He told us to try it at room temperature, and we did (was there a choice?). And to be honest, despite its being a Chardonnay, it was complex, brooding, very creamy, not-too-oakey, not-too-crisp, and really quite good. Will Chard ever be our thing? Absolutely not. But we <i>respected</i> this wine.<br /><br />Next, finally, we got into reds. We tried a solid Sangiovese, a great Zinfandel (another "panties off" Zin), and finally, the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=48&catid=20">2001 Napa Cabernet Sauvignon</a>, the one we'd tasted at Pinot Blanc the day before. I was ready to buy a case at that moment.<br /><br />"But wait," Jeff said, "I still have three better wines."<br /><br />I'd believe it when I tasted it. Next he poured the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=11&catid=20">2000 Rutherford Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon</a>. I tasted, then took my glass outside and wept. This was the best thing that had ever passed my lips. All of my notions of good wine went out the window. This $65 bottle kicked every other wine that we'd tried straight in the patootie. I was devastated. I momentarily thought about trying to return every bottle we'd bought until that point. I returned to the tasting room, located in the back of the most humble cottage we'd set foot in the whole trip, a changed man.<br /><br />Then Jeff went vertical on us. He poured the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=41&catid=20">2001 version</a> of the same wine. 2001 was a good year for huge, chewy tannins. While the 2000 was perfectly balanced, the 2001 was a mystery. I've tasted young wines before, and felt confident in my predictions of when and how they would peak. This tannic monster was an open book. I didn't know where it was going, but I knew it was the master, leading me by the nose. I am not worthy.<br /><br />"But wait," Jeff said, "that's <i>still</i> not our best wine."<br /><br />Then he poured us the <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=40&catid=20">2001 Winston Hill Rutherford Cabernet Sauvignon</a>, named after a Springer Spaniel. I probably shouldn't report on this, since he doesn't pour this for everybody. My God. No description will suffice. This wine was like the monolith at the beginning of <i>2001</i>, summoning me toward my evolutionary fate. Heartbreakingly complex, yet verily approachable—drinkable today, even, though we will save our bottle for a couple of years at least. Woe is me! I can die now without any legitimate cause to complain! Jeff had truly, truly ruined our day.<br /><br />We huddled outside, murmuring about selling the cars, the dog, whatever. Then we settled on a modest buy. One bottle of Winston Hill, and one bottle of the 2001 Reserve Cab, that enigmatic minx. Jeff was good enough to give us an extra 1-case styrofoam container at that point, since our cooler and several boxes were full already.<br /><br />We drove home, lamenting having to leave, but rejoicing in our luck nevertheless. It's good to be an alcotourist.Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124586451645094652005-08-14T17:11:00.000-07:002005-08-20T20:33:51.646-07:00Day 3 in Wine Country: Napa ValleyAfter an heroic day on Saturday, when we tasted at 12 wineries in the Alexander and Russian River Valleys, we decided to play it cool in Napa. After all, the tasting fees can be as much as $30 each, and the wine increases in price on the same curve. We also already had a case of wine at the hotel from our Friday and Saturday excursions, and the car was literally running out of room.<br /><br />We began the day at the Hoffman House Café, which was conveniently adjacent to our hotel in Geyserville. The Alcotouristess had croissant french toast stuffed with cream cheese and berries. What a hedonist. I fortified with some <i>Huevos Rancheros</i> and we both had their rich, wonderful coffee.<br /><br />Then we drove over the hill and toodled for a while in St. Helena, where the Alcotouristess indulged in her passion for all things olive by visiting <a target="new" href="http://www.oliviernapavalley.com/">Olivier</a>, where they have four or five large copper casks full of olive oil. You can choose a 500ml bottle and fill it straight from the tap with the olive oil that tickles your fancy. The Alcotouristess got the Macke Estate Blend. We also checked out their olivewood wares, which were pretty cool, and moved on.<br /><br />We then paid a short visit to <a target="new" href="http://www.woodhousechocolate.com/">Woodhouse Chocolate</a> where I saw (and tasted!) some of the most creative cocoa expressions I've ever seen—and I've lived in Switzerland, mind you. We picked up a box for the folks at the office, and a couple of singles for ourselves. Mmmm!<br /><br />Then we toodled further at the <a target="new" href="http://www.ciachef.edu/california/default.asp">Culinary Institute of America</a> to let the Alcotouristess take in the air at her version of Valhalla. Now don't get the wrong idea. After hearing about stuffed croissant french toast, olive oil, exotic chocolates, and CIA worship, you might think the Alcotouristess is a little on the doughy side. Well, some people are just lucky, I guess, so keep that hate mail coming.<br /><br />Finally, we dispensed with the toodling, and visited the <a target="new" href="http://www.beringer.com/beringer/home.jsp">Beringer</a> estate. We ponied up for the reserve tasting, and were not disappointed. The gentleman at the counter had no compunction about challenging our notions about wine, and even though I ordered the Reserve Cab tasting ($12) and the Alcotouristess ordered the Aromatic Reds, or "No Cabs," tasting ($9), we tasted just about everything on the shelf. We did horizontal (i.e. tasting different wines of the same vintage) and then our host lined up a vertical tasting (same wine, different vintages) of one of their reserve Cabs. The 2000 was ready to drink, but the 2001 had legs. There was no question we could ask that he couldn't answer, and to sum up, we had a blast. We tasted wines costing from $30 all the way up to $100, and walked away happy. You may notice, however, that we didn't buy anything. It's not that the wine wasn't good—it was excellent—but the ones we liked were $60-$100, and at that price point, the law of diminishing returns goes into effect. We had one more day of vacation, and if we needed to, we could always swoop back and pick up a bottle if it turned out that one was particularly memorable.<br /><br />Next we went to the Stag's Leap district to sample the excellent wines of <a target="new" href="http://www.silveradovineyards.com/">Silverado Vineyards</a>. They had a fun Sangiovese, and some excellent Cabs. We shared a $10 tasting, which we found was actually more than frugal—it helped us maintain our sobriety. Wine country is a road trip—there's simply no other good way to get around unless you want to join a chintzy tour—and I think a lot of the police simply look the other way unless you're really obvious. But for safety's sake, and for the safety of the hordes of cyclists you will invariably see on the road, it's good to keep your head on straight. We enjoyed the last big Cab from the vantage of Silverado's excellent patio (though, it must be noted, they don't allow picnics). This may have been the best view of the trip, and that says a lot. Again, we said thank you, and neglected to purchase a bottle. Nothing against Silverado, but at the price it's a serious investment that merits some mulling over.<br /><br />On the recommendation of a friend, we then attempted to go to <a target="new" href="http://www.vsattui.com/">V. Sattui</a> for a tasting and lunch at their famous deli, but the lot was bursting at the seams, and we didn't even bother to try to find a space. No parkey-no tastey. End of story.<br /><br />So we had a quick sandwich at <a target="new" href="http://www.frenchlaundry.com/bouchon/bouchon.htm">Bouchon Bakery</a>, and we indulged in one of their fabulous sandwich cookies. Then it was time for another afternoon champagne break, which we took at <a target="new" href="http://www.chandon.com/winery/default.html">Chandon</a>, which despite parking availability was too crowded for our taste. In fact, we didn't taste at all. We walked through the cavernous building, which to Chandon's credit, does allow visitors to purchase appetizers in the tasting room. They have a little champagne museum, a fancy restaurant, and they even offer still wines, but neither of us felt particularly like tasting anything there. I don't know what it was—something about the ambiance—it felt like a tourist trap. We moved on.<br /><br />It was then with much anticipation that we arrived at <a target="new" href="http://www.cakebread.com/">Cakebread Cellars</a>, where we'd heard the wine was some of the best in the region. Unfortunately, Cakebread, which is centrally located on Highway 29, suffers from the same crowd problems that V. Sattui does. We parked in a dirt overflow lot and went in to find that they only do tastings by reservation, but that we could book one in about twenty minutes. We decided to wait. They charged us $10 a piece, and gave us a taste of Sauvignon Blanc while we waited. I found myself wondering if they did reserve tastings at Cakebread, and more out of curiosity than anything, I asked the reservation man not 30 seconds before we were to have our tasting. He raised an eyebrow, asked for $20 more, and sent us to the reserve tasting room, where a pour was just starting. We cordially tasted, then poured, their excellent specimen of a reserve Chardonnay. Very good, just not our thing. Then we tasted three $95 Cabs in a row, which were the best wines we'd had so far. The <a target="new" href="http://www.cakebread.com/store/index.cfm?fuseaction=productdetail&product_id=10">2001 Benchland Cabernet</a> was the best-balanced of the group, and eminently drinkable now. The <a target="new" href="">2001 Three Sisters Cabernet</a> was my favorite. Bold, with balls-out tannins—something I'd cellar for 5 years minimum. The Alcotouristess preferred the huge fruit of the <a target="new" href="http://www.cakebread.com/store/index.cfm?fuseaction=productdetail&product_id=12">2001 Vine Hill Ranch Cabernet</a>, which had layer after layer of dark chocolate and licorice spice, and a monster finish. Again, since we dropped $40 on two tastings, we didn't immediately rush to the counter for a case. We figured we could think it over, and anyway, the Alcotouristess was jonesing for some cheese.<br /><br />We checked to see if the Rutherford Grill had a cheese plate, but it was all rotisserie, so we didn't stay. Then, on a whim, we walked into the <a target="new" href="http://www.bvwines.com/visit/">BV</a> reserve tasting room, which shares a parking lot with the Grill. There was a jolly (it's the only word to describe her) host at the counter, who seemed glad to see us. I think it was because we looked like the only normal people in the joint. There were all of these 40-something couples there—balding men with their plastic-surgery-riddled trophy wives. We saw quite a few Ferraris on the 29 that day, and I wondered if we'd arrived at BV at the same time the Ferrari club of Marin County did. We tasted most of their <a target="new" href="http://www.bvwines.com/wines/reserve_wines.shtml">red reserves</a>, including the famous <a target="new" href="http://www.bvwines.com/wines/reserve_wines/reserve_gdl_cabernet_sauvignon_2001.shtml">Georges LaTour Private Reserve</a>, but after Cakebread, we were somewhat nonplussed. I did like the BV <a target="new" href="http://www.bvwines.com/wines/reserve_wines/reserve_tapestry_2001.shtml">Tapestry</a>, a Bordeaux-style blend, and my darling Alcotouristess purchased a bottle for me. Then we slipped out without asking why they didn't bother to charge us the $25 reserve tasting fee. Woohoo!<br /><br />Next was the revelation of the trip. We slipped across the 29 to <a target="new" href="http://www.patinagroup.com/pinotBlanc/">Pinot Blanc</a>, part of the famous Patina Group, headed by star chef Joachim Splichal. I was somewhat reluctant to go to a restaurant that was a chain, and for that matter a chain that we could go to in Los Angeles any time, but I'm glad I put my recalcitrant attitude aside. We walked in, and nobody was there. It was roughly 4 in the afternoon, and the Alcotouristess had read that the bar was open between lunch and dinner for drinks, though the staff seemed surprised to see us. We each ordered a glass of wine from their extensive list, and then ogled at their incredible <a target="new" href="http://www.patinagroup.com/menu/pinot_blanc/cheese.pdf">cheese menu</a>. We ordered:<blockquote><ul><li><b><i>Idiazabal</i></b>, "Lightly smoked hard sheep’s milk from the Spanish Pyrenees,"</li><li><b><i>Tete De Moine</i></b>, "An intense and flavorful cow's milk cheese from Switzerland, it has a strong fruity and nutty taste with a pungent aroma," and:</li><li><b><i>Petit Basque</i></b>, "A full-flavored, semi-hard cheese made from the rich milk of the sheep that roam this region of Spain."</li></ul></blockquote>We also had their <i>Panzella</i>, an Italian bread salad. There was nobody there but us, and it was glorious to relax and taste and sip and talk. What a great way to spend our last afternoon in wine country. Just when we thought it couldn't get any better, our server put a bottle in front of us and said, "I want you to try this." She poured us complimentary glasses of their two Cabernet Sauvignons on the menu, one of which was Frank Family Vineyards' <a target="new" href="http://www.frankfamilyvineyards.com/shop/jsp/item.jsp?itemid=48&catid=20">2001 Napa Cabernet Sauvignon</a>, a wine that I declared could go toe-to-toe with almost any $100 bottle we'd tasted that day. I inquired after the bottle price, and our server said they sold it for $44 at the restaurant. She called the winery and got the cellar price: $37.50. We had to go to this vineyard, and vowed to do exactly that on our way out of town the next morning. We didn't quite know yet that this would be the revelation of the trip, since the Frank Family Cab we'd tried was <b><i>not a reserve wine</i></b>, and there were still more incredible revelations awaiting us the next morning.<br /><br />We returned to our hotel in Geyserville, replete and in need of a little shut-eye. We woke suddenly at about 8:30p.m. to gnawing stomachs, and remembered <a target="new" href="http://www.seghesio.com/">Ed Seghesio's</a> admonition to try <a target="new" href="http://www.tavernasanti.com">Santi</a>, which he characterized as "the best Italian food in Sonoma," and said to try the tripe (not likely). Fortunately for us, Santi was within walking distance of the Geyserville Inn. We were set in a cozy little table and ordered two glasses of wine. The Alcotouristess ordered Gnocchi, which she felt was too soft, but I ordered the Rigatoni with pecorino cheese and roasted bell peppers in tomato sauce with a touch of cream. I quickly finished my glass of 2001 Marchese Di Gresy Dolcetto D'Alba Piemonte (I know, Italian wine in Napa, but it looked good), and asked for a glass of <a target="new" href="http://www.nallewinery.com/zin84.html">1999 Nalle Zinfandel</a>, which, I had a hunch, would compliment my pasta perfectly. It was better than perfect. It was my all-time favorite pairing <b>ever</b>. <br /><br />We stumbled back to the hotel, in a state of gastronomic euphoria. Could this trip get any better? Stay tuned. :-DAlcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124550491712852272005-08-13T07:55:00.000-07:002005-09-06T11:34:42.916-07:00Day 2 in Wine Country: Alexander & Russian River ValleysFirst, we have to give props to a couple of books we used to figure out what we were going to do:<br /><ol><li><a target="new" href="http://shop.lonelyplanet.com/author_detail.cfm?authorid=1224&seriesID=16&seriesname=World%20Food%20Guides&"><img alt="Shaken, not stirred" align="right" src="http://shop.lonelyplanet.com/author_images/richard_stirling_2003.jpg"></a><a target="new" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/1740595815/qid=1124549947/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i1_xgl14/102-4080119-7548151?v=glance&s=books&n=507846">Lonely Planet Road Trip: Napa & Sonoma Wine Country</a>. Well laid out, with color maps and some catty commentary, but far from comprehensive. Still, we reached for it a lot in the car, since the layout makes everything pretty easy to find. One gripe: The author, <a target="new" href="http://shop.lonelyplanet.com/author_detail.cfm?authorid=1224&seriesID=16&seriesname=World%20Food%20Guides&">Richard Sterling</a>, seemed to be OBSESSED with where to get a "good martini" in wine country. Is there any such thing as a "good martini"? Come on! This book is supposed to be about wine country, and I think he mentions the garbage cocktail for mindless <i>Sex in the City</i> zombies six times in a 64-page guide book. Then I looked at his picture, and all was revealed. The man wears <i>turtlenecks.</i></li><br /><li><a target="new" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0942053346/qid=1124551451/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/102-4080119-7548151?v=glance&s=books">The Best of the Wine Country</a> by Don and Betty Martin. After finding the Lonely Planet book inadequate for planning our itineraries, I picked up this tome in a map store. I wanted comprehensive, and I got it. It has itineraries, winery descriptions, activities, restaurants, and the kitchen sink on all major California <i>appellations</i>, not just the Napa/Sonoma region we were visiting. I based our itineraries for the Alexander and Russian River valleys on the Martins' sample itineraries. What's cool about it is that the itineraries are ordered geographically, and then the descriptions of each recommended winery follow in the same order. If one description failed to impress, we simply crossed it off the itinerary and kept going. If something piqued our interest on the road, we could look it up immediately. We plan to go to Paso Robles, Temecula, and back to Santa Ynez in the future, so this book is definitely a keeper.</li></ol><br />At this point, it might also be instructive to list the wineries we visited, and some we planned to, but didn't:<br /><br /><b>In the Alexander Valley:</b><ol><li><a target="new" href="http://www.chateausouverain.com/souverain/home.jsp">Château Souverain</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.trentadue.com/">Trentadue</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://closdubois.com/winery/">Clos Du Bois</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.canyonroadwinery.com/">Canyon Road</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.strykersonoma.com/">Stryker</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.sausalwinery.com/">Sausal</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.whiteoakwinery.com/">White Oak</a> (not on our list, but recommended by Sausal, so we went)</li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.avvwine.com/fr_welc.html">Alexander Valley Vineyards</a></li></ol><br /><b>In the Russian River Valley:</b><br /><ol><li><a target="new" href="http://www.roshambowinery.com/home.shtml">Roshambo</a> (On our list, but when we arrived the lot was full, so we split)</li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.belvederewinery.com/">Belvedere</a> (skipped it at first, but so glad we returned)</li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.hopkilnwinery.com/main.html">Hop Kiln</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.korbel.com/modules/content/?sid=11">Korbel</a></li><li><a target="new" href="http://www.topolos.net/">Topolos</a></li></ol><br />Was it any wonder we were up early? We were excited to try our most ambitious day of wine tasting we'd ever planned, and besides, the "queen size" bed at the Geyserville Inn was hard as cut granite (seriously, guys—our kidneys <i>ached</i>). Of course, it also helped that we were in bed early the previous night, since <b>there is nothing to do after dinner</b> in wine country. But rising early was perhaps not the best plan, since none of the wineries opened until 10. So we drove into Healdsburg for breakfast, upon the insistence of the Alcotouristess, who wanted to visit the <a target="new" href="http://www.downtownbakery.net/">Downtown Bakery & Creamery</a>. Every guidebook and online review coos about this place, and the Alcotouristess was quite impressed with the blueberry plum pocket she ordered. Before you go, consider that there is no seating, and if you're not taking your pastries home or back to your hotel, your only option is to enjoy it in the Healdsburg town square among the throngs of migrant workers who gather there each morning.<br /><br />It's worth a pause here to tip our hats to the underground economy poised on the backs of migrant workers that allowed us to have a hedonistic and decadent vacation in wine country. I'm not an expert on the issue, but I suspect that the <i>gente</i> we saw in the park did not have any kind of health insurance or 401(k). As a consumer of wine and spirits, I'd like to declare that I would not mind the upcharge per bottle that a good health plan would cost for these workers. <br /><br />So we sat in the park with the aforementioned blueberry plum pocket, a sticky bun, a whole wheat currant scone, and two coffees. I found the scone dry and dreadful, and was glad the Alcotouristess opted for sweeter fare. The coffee was very good.<br /><br />We finished our breakfasts and headed back to Château Souverain. It was 9:15, and the castle didn't open until 10. We suddenly remembered we needed a disposable camera (donations of a digital gladly accepted) from the drug store. So we drove back to the Healdsburg Rite Aid to kill some time. We got back to the castle at 9:45. We must have looked like desperate dry drunks. <br /><br />Fortunately, the best thing that can be said about Château Souverain is that the building and the grounds are stunningly beautiful. We took a little walk through the gardens and looked at the lavender plants, heirloom tomatoes, Italian peppers, squash, blackberries, pear and apple trees, all growing in neat little clusters around the vineyard. We joked that we would affectedly point out "hints of lavender and pepper spice" in their Merlot, like some balding, hypertense <i>sommelier</i>. If that were only the case. <br /><br />The opulent tasting room doors opened, and we entered what looked like Dean and DeLuca's wet dream. You could buy all manner of corkscrews, decanters, aprons, jams, jellies, oils, tapenades, and home decor. We went straight to the counter. A college-aged girl greeted us, and when she found out where we were from, announced that she was studying Journalism in Long Beach. Good for you. Now pour. <br /><br />The wines that we hoped had soaked up the opulent atmosphere were flat and had little character. I've learned to dread the "we're famous for our Chardonnay" pitch that you hear at every third winery in the area. Eventually, we wised up and asked for "reds only" tastings, but this was the first stop of the day, and we indulged the budding journalist. <br /><br />"Nutty," I said. <br /><br />"Ick," I thought. <br /><br />None of the rest of the wines merited dissertation, but we picked up a $20 bottle of Mourvedre to recoup our $5 tasting fees (a failed strategy, as pointed out by the Alcotouristess in the <a target="new" href"http://alcotourism.blogspot.com/2005/08/day-1-in-wine-country.html">Day 1 article</a>). The journalist only knocked $5 off, since it was only one bottle—a pretty cheap move, I thought, for a girl who works in a castle. Which brings me to this rule of thumb: Wineries whose names begin with <i>Château</i> usually focus more on the castle than they do on the juice. If you want to impress your dull-paletted in-laws, go ahead and take them to a <i>Château</i>. If you want to try good wine, you can generally skip the places with the over-manicured lawns and storybook turrets.<br /><br />Off we went to Trentadue, another over-opulent property in the valley. Both Trentadue and Souverain, it must be said, were hosting weddings on this particular Saturday. We were glad we got an early start. I would not have been able to resist spilling something on a bustling wedding planner as she waddled by, madly arranging place settings or something. We were greeted by a very professional looking host at the counter, who made us cough up another five bucks each to taste. If we made a comment on a particular wine, she would smile and nod like a real estate agent trying to sell a tract house. There was another group of two young couples there who seemed to be enjoying themselves. One identified himself as a "local." That's nice. We reached the end of a rather short tasting, gave our "we're just tasting today, and we don't want the wine to spoil in our car, and anyway we'll come back to purchase before we leave on Monday" speech, and left. We were off to a disappointing start.<br /><br />If Trentadue and Souverain were suburban castles, Clos Du Bois did nothing to hide that it was a factory. We have a soft spot for Clos Du Bois, because we really started our fascination with wine around their '97 Merlot. Jammy and tannic for that varietal, it was pleasing to our novice palates. It must also be said that our "Clos Du Bois" period coincided with our first year of dating—a mad, randy, ravenous affair—so it has a charming patina, looking back. However, nothing we tasted on this day quite measured up to our reveries of that '97. We entered the tasting room and came up to an empty spot on the horseshoe-shaped counter. Another co-ed host in a midriffless baby-doll tee quickly told us that those spots on the counter were reserved, and we had to go taste from the crowded side. We squeezed in among some brochures for Kendall Jackson and the petrified forest—charming. We got to taste almost everything, though. The co-eds even poured us some Marlstone and Briarcrest proprietaries, which were good, but not enough to take home. I liked their Pinot, but the Alcotouristess poured it out. Off we went.<br /><br />And that's when we reached the Canyon Road winery, which was the first really good place of the day. We tasted in a little outbuilding next to their big stone cellar, and the hosts were full of youthful candor and enthusiasm. We particularly enjoyed a unique Zinfandel made by their (female!) assistant winemaker, Ondine Chattan, under her own label. It was called <a target="new" href="http://xyzin.net">XYZin</a>, and we bought a bottle for $30—a great value. It wasn't an old-vine Zin in the classic sense, but it had an exotic spicy character that we thought was delicious, if esoteric. Finally, we were getting somewhere.<br /><br />Next, we traveled to the east side of the Alexander Valley to visit Stryker, which had the best view yet. Their glass tasting room was perched on a knoll with a 180-degree view of the valley. We were treated to some fantastic Zins at this small estate winery, and took a bottle of their <a target="new" href="http://www.strykersonoma.com/2001dczinfandel.htm">2001 Dry Creek Valley Zin</a> home for just $22. The wine reveals exotic fruit and spice with that distinct alcohol stab of a Zinfandel. Zins are high in alcohol to balance the incredible power of the fruit. More than once, after a nudge-nudge, wink-wink from a host, we were told that the particular Zin we were drinking was nicknamed "panties off," or something similar. We've already had the Dry Creek bottle at home, and can vouch that it removes panties expertly.<br /><br />A bit down the road, we found Sausal, an unassuming little tasting room butting the hills on the east side of the valley. They had a great young man serving the tastings, and he was eager to pour "off-list" wines, which we always appreciate. He asked us what we'd enjoyed so far, and we told him about the <a target="new" href="http://www.seghesio.com/omaggio2002.html">2002 Omaggio</a> at Seghesio, a Super Tuscan we bought. He smiled and pulled out Sausal's own Super Tuscan, a <a target="new" href="http://www.sausalwinery.com/wine.html">2003 Sogno Della Famiglia</a>, a young wine, to be sure, but bursting with character and potential. We bought a bottle for $30, and he <b>refunded both our tasting fees</b> (thank you very much). He also told us not to miss the Zins at White Oak Vineyards across the street.<br /><br />We were in need of lunch, but far afield. We carefully pulled out of the driveway and drove across the street. We asked the host at White Oak politely if we could try only the reds, and she courteously complied. The Zin was another winner. We took home a bottle of their $36 <a target="new" href="http://www.whiteoakwinery.com/Trade-AVEZ-2002.htm">2002 Estate Zinfandel</a>, which was luscious and peppery, with almost numbing amounts of alcohol and anise. We really needed lunch.<br /><br />We headed back to Healdsburg, but made an ill-advised stop at Alexander Valley Vineyards on the way. The Alcotouristess was in fits of hiccups. I was still okay to drive, since I'd been dutifully pouring out the more potent Zins after one taste. We tried to discreetly ask the host if they had a deli, or any food available on the premisis. She said they didn't but generously poured the Alcotouristess a glass of water while I tasted. I'd been looking for a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, and found a leathery, dark-chocolaty <a target="new" href="http://www.avvwine.com/wines/wines_individual.asp?ID=81">2002 Estate Cabernet Sauvignon</a>. I picked up a bottle for us, and one for a co-worker who is into Cab. It was only $20, but here is a warning you can take to the bank: Recently, I saw a bottle of the same wine at Vons, a grocery store in Burbank, on sale for $15.99. It's always good to ask about distribution when you're tasting. If the bottle is available in your local grocery store (or even grocery stores in wine country, which as you can imagine, are really well stocked), chances are that you can get the bottle cheaper there. The wineries don't have a choice, as contractually, they can't undercut their distributors. Retail stores are not bound by this, since they are the end of the supply chain. <br /><br />We took the Alexander Valley Vineyards brochure home, and I later saw that they run secondary fermentation on their reds, which I found odd, since that's usually something you only do to remove malolactic acid from whites—it's what gives a lot of Chardonnays that "creamy" taste. As I understand it, reds do a natural secondary fermentation on their own, so I'm not sure why you'd add another dose of yeast, unless you were trying to hide something. If anyone can set me straight on this, please post a comment.<br /><br />We limped into Healdsburg, and stopped at the Healdsburg Bar and Grill for lunch. We had a wonderful, pungent pizza with gorgonzola and sun-dried tomatoes, and some of their famous onion rings. We craved grease. We didn't have any wine with lunch, but drank copious amounts of water. We boxed up half of the pizza, and put it in the back of the car. Happily sober again, we continued down the Russian River into its namesake valley.<br /><br />I was excited to see Roshambo, since they do this silly rock-paper-scissors motif, and I saw a thing they did on <i>seitan</i> (say "satan"), a wonderful meat substitute made of wheat gluten that can convincingly masquerade as braised chicken, flank steak, or even lobster. According to our Lonely Planet guide, Roshambo had this "I worship Seitan" t-shirt, which I thought was fabulous. But then we got there and there was no place to park. It's not that I'm overly concerned about parking—it's just that I don't like crowds in a tasting room, and Roshambo looked like a zoo. We adhered to our "no parkey-no tastey" policy, which we also later invoked at V. Sattui in Napa, and moved on. I'm sure there's some clever rock-paper-scissors pun in this, but we're not that kind of blog.<br /><br />Most wineries close at 4:30 or 5, and it was already past 2. Hop Kiln was the winery I most wanted to see in the Russian River valley, so we skipped Belvedere, since we saw that it was open until 6. Apparently, the Russian River valley's cash crop was once hops, and not grapes as it is now. In later posts, I will reveal my full obsession with the hop, but for now, I really wanted to see the winery built in an old hop kiln, which is essentially a high-ceilinged barn used to dry hops. Its namesake vine grew on the outside of the building, and I rubbed a few hop cones in my fingers and sniffed. Ambrosia. We went in, and the rustic barn was hopping with people that out-aged us by 20 years at least. The wines were generally inexpensive, as Hop Kiln has a tradition of making jug wines. Still, for the price, the nonvintage <a target="new" href="http://www.hopkilnwinery.com/_kds_cart/wines.asp">Big Red</a> blend was a great value at $13.50. I picked up a bottle for another co-worker who professed to be a "wine virgin." I couldn't think of a better bottle to start appreciating wine with. It was bold, fruity, not too tannic, and while not complex, I'd tasted much simpler wines that day for twice the price.<br /><br />Next, at the insistence of the Alcotouristess, we visited the Korbel Sparkling Wine estate, a sprawling ode to yeast and tour buses. We tasted some grocery store champagne, looked at the deli, and left. Still, it was a refreshing afternoon break.<br /><br />We then headed south to Topolos, where I thought we'd taste and then have dinner at their on-site restaurant. We found the winery in surprising disarray. All wines were on clearance and the restaurant was closed. Someone had bought the property, and Topolos appeared to be in the middle of its last gasp. We tasted anyway, but found nothing remarkable. I mused we weren't giving Topolos a fair shake because of palate fatigue, but we were pleasantly relieved of that presumption at Bevedere (more on that later). The wines were shabby and unremarkable. One thing of interest was a thank you note on the wall from former first lady Hillary Clinton. They had poured Topolos wines at an estate dinner for some Greek diplomat, and sent their kudos and a picture. That was nice. I'm sure Laura Bush is too busy firing her chefs to ever send out a thoughtful thank-you like that to a winery, and anyway, her psychotic husband is (now) a professed teetotaller.<br /><br />We made it to Belvedere by 5:30, and found a revelatory <a target="new" href="http://www.belvederewinery.com/wines/sonoma/index.html#hbrzin">Zin</a> and the best <a target="new" href="http://www.belvederewinery.com/wines/russ/index.html#rrvpn">Pinot</a> we'd tried all day. The Zin was lively and complex, but not too staid, and the Pinot was smooth and delicate with multiple layers on the palate—the best I'd had outside of Santa Barbara County. Anyway, the grounds at Belvedere were beautiful, with multiple picnic tables on a terraced lavender garden. They also do something here that few other wineries do—they sell wine by the glass, and let you enjoy it outside. The sun was going down on the hill behind us, and we took our glasses out to a secluded picnic table, fetched the rest of our pizza from the car, and watched the reflection of the sunset on the high east hills of the valley. They told us to sample the Pinot grapes in the adjacent vineyard, and we did. Marvelous. We finished our pizza, and walked around the grounds, scaring up quail and enjoying the breeze as it wafted through the eucalyptus. We stayed until after 6, but the folks at the counter didn't mind. Everyone was enjoying the waning sun.<br /><br />One weird thing about the experience was that Belvedere used a pneumatic wine corker. It is essentially a carbon-dioxide-driven hypodermic needle that you inject past the bottom of the cork, and then blast the inert gas into the bottle until the cork pops. Over the top.<br /><br />We then took a drive up to Lake Sonoma and hiked around for a while. I then got it in my head that we should take the mountain road to the beach, which was 34 miles of hairpin turns, high climbs, and dizzying descents. Way too ambitious after the day we had. By the time we reached the ocean, we had to look at it by moonlight. We tried to find a better road back by going south on the PCH, but that was harrowing as well. We finally made it back to Geyserville past 11:30, exhausted. The Alcotouristess was carsick, and not even the plank-hard bed at the Geyserville Inn could thwart our impending unconsciousness.Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124469801744575712005-08-12T09:03:00.000-07:002005-08-22T13:02:12.813-07:00Day 1 in Wine Country: HealdsburgHaving arrived rather late on the scene in northern Sonoma County, we found ourselves with very limited time to sample the local beverages. Our first stop was <a target="new" href="http://www.simiwinery.com/">Simi</a>, a winery in the Healdsburg area. The exterior was pretty enough, with some nice plants and flowers surrounding a stone building. Alas, inside, one got the feeling of entering a Wal-Mart: an elderly greeter stood in our path, telling us of prizes to be won by filling out reply cards, of wine chillers to be purchased and so on. We made our way around the woman like we were navigating some nursing home video game, only to be welcomed to the tasting counter by a kindly old man who popped up like the next figure at the shoot 'em up arcade, wanting to tell us all about the wine club. He reminded us of the indelible spokesman on the <a target="new" href="http://www.empirecarpet.com/aboutus/07-2004-72r_102004.mp3">Empire Carpet</a> commercials, with his slithery chain-smoking whisper. I should have been so lucky as to have had a few quarters and a plastic gun as he went on and on about why we should join, writing his name on the application he foisted across the counter while we sipped wines only slightly above average. I perked up a little only when he said their wine club contained wines form other wineries. Maybe they would be better.<br /><br />Since it was early into our trip, the Alcotourist and I had not yet polished our strategy and ended up with a bottle of Petit Sirah. At this point our game-day logic was that if we had to pay to taste but the tasting fee was waved with purchase, buy something drinkable and not too pricey. Alas, now we have this bottle of Petit Sirah I hardly remember tasting.<br /><br />Our next stop was <a target="new" href="http://www.seghesio.com/">Seghesio</a>, a family-owned winery just minutes away from Simi--but of another breed entirely. Delicious Italianate wines. Yummy Zin. The only old person around was Ed Seghesio himself, and he was affably chatting with visitors, not trying to get you to fill out forms or buy a hat. Things not on the tasting menu were opened, savored. A pleasant Barbera, fine for drinking with a nice pasta dinner. A great Tuscan blend, the <a target="new" href="http://www.seghesio.com/omaggio2002.html">2002 Omaggio</a>, which story goes the younger Seghesios created in homage to their elders like Ed himself. At $45, a price high for that area but cheap in Napa terms, it turned out to be one of the best values for the price we ended up tasting all weekend, and we happily got a bottle to tuck into our wine fridge at home for a great pasta meal. Ed signed the bottle himself with sparkling gold ink, and told us to go get some great Italian food at <a target="new" href="http://www.tavernasanti.com">Santi</a> in Geyserville. We took this advice Sunday eve and were not disappointed--more on that later. If you go, Ed recommends the <a target="new" href="http://www.tavernasanti.com/menu.html">tripe</a>.<br /><br />Having dipped our toes into wine tasting, the Alcotourist and I were ready to check in to our hotel before heading out to a dinner revolving around another of our beverage passions, good beer. <a target="new" href="http://www.bearrepublic.com">Bear Republic Brewery</a> in Healdsburg delivers just that, and with a grin. The Pete Brown Tribute Ale I had was nutty and smooth with a lot of body and a hint of sweetness. I also tasted the Alcotourist's Racer 5 India Pale Ale, which was just bitter enough to give a good kick, floral, strong and hoppy. The food was fair (it is mostly burgers and fries) and the T-shirts are great, so it's worth a stop.<br /><br />Full and fizzy-headed, we called it a night in wine country. We had an ambitious day ahead of us the next morning, with trips to the Alexander Valley and beyond.Alcotouristesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07791108905731163455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15487488.post-1124227919793793912005-08-11T14:14:00.000-07:002005-08-20T19:16:14.703-07:00GenesisWe travel a lot, and we invariably receive much pleasure from sampling the local hooch. We're geeky enough about it that we thought we could parlay our musings into entertainment. We've got a backlist of trips we'll work on posting, and then we'll give you the new scoop as it happens. <br /><br />Before you read, please understand that while we don't claim to be wine, beer, and spirits authorities, our opinions are usually correct because we have better palates than, well, <i>you</i>. Don't expect any lengthy dissertations on Chardonnay, light beer, or vodka (<i>yes, I said <b>VODKA</b></i>) here. On the other hand, if you're into Bordeaux blends, Super Tuscans, India Pale Ales, Imperial Stouts, Single Malts, and <i>puro de agave</i>, this may be the place for you. <br /><br />Despite what may come off as a snobby attitude (it's <i>not</i>, you <i>Philistine</i>), we will certainly slum it from time to time and pontificate on the finer points of Schlitz lager (<i>"it's the kiss of the hops!"</i>) and the like. Stay tuned.<br /><br />—The Alcotourists.Alcotouristhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07562458567956906456noreply@blogger.com0