Category: Drink

A look at two reds from Napa Valley

This week’s wines are two exceptional reds, created from grapes grown in neighboring towns almost within sight of each other, in the Napa Valley Floor American Viticulture Area (AVA).

Our first wine comes from the Bespoke Collection Portfolio Wines based in Napa Valley, California. Wikipedia describes Bespoke as a “wine producer and lifestyle brand” whose wine labels are Blackbird Vineyards and Recuerdo Wines. Bespoke means custom-made or commissioned and in times past the word was used to describe hand-tailoring, especially in custom-made apparel. Now, it captures the sense that we want things to be made special for us and the label lends a certain cachet to the product.

The 2016 Blackbird Vineyards Arise Proprietary Red Wine (originally priced at $54.99, and reduced to $32.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets) is a blend that emulates the merlot-based wine blends of the Right Bank of the Dordogne River, Bordeaux. The wine is a blend of 55 percent merlot, 25 percent cabernet franc, 17 percent cabernet sauvignon and 3 percent petit verdot. Made from merlot grapes grown on a 10-acre estate in Oakville, on the Napa Valley floor, and enhanced by the other varietals, gathered from 20-plus lots from the Napa Valley Mountain tops, hillsides and bench lands, this limited production of only 236 barrels of equal parts of new and seasoned French oak has an abundance of rich fruit. The color is a deep garnet purple, the nose is rich black cherries and black raspberries, and plums with slight herbal notes. The nose carries through to a full palate and a long, long finish. Robert Parker awarded this bold wine with 92 points.

This is a California red blend, bolder, and thus emulating the Bordeaux blend. The vineyards profit from generations of expert vineyard management and precision agriculture, limiting grape yields for increased quality. Sustainable farming is employed, and indigenous yeasts start the fermentation process. The winemaking team selects two or more parcels of wine after sample trials blended to produce a consistently finished wine that highlights each unique varietal component. This wine becomes a “customized wine,” a “bespoke wine,” according to the winemaker’s website.

The Oakville-Rutherford area is renowned for its cabernet sauvignon and merlot single-varietal wines and blends.

Our next wine comes from Rutherford, also located on the Napa Valley floor, and immediately north of Oakville. The 2011 Sullivan Rutherford Estate Napa Valley Merlot (originally priced at $65 and reduced to $29.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets) consists of 100 percent merlot that also benefits from the gravelly-sandy loam and hot, dry summers of this stretch of wine country. The color is a deep purple that has just begun to go amber as it is 20 years old. To the nose and tongue, the fruit is heavy with plum and blackberry, along with some cocoa. The tannins have receded, owing in part to its age. This is an exquisite wine that is a true reflection of how beautiful a merlot can be, given proper attention to the grapes, the blending, and aging.

Sullivan Winery was established in 1972 when James O’Neil Sullivan, encouraged by his friend the legendary winemaker André Tchelistcheff, planted 22 acres to cabernet sauvignon and merlot. He built his home and winery on the estate and produced and sold wine until his death in 2005, leaving the home and winery to his children. In 2018 entrepreneur Juan Pablo Torres-Padilla saw the potential of Sullivan Rutherford Estate and purchased the property. This wine was produced before the property was sold, and the future of the estate remains bright as Torres-Padilla has assembled a world-class winery team that will continue to make history.

Featured photo. Courtesy.

In my relative youth, I worked in a pizza joint for several older Greek men who taught me two important life lessons:

(1) How to swear in Greek.

I got into a conversation with a Greek couple recently and was able to exchange pleasantries in reasonably passable Greek. The shockingly beautiful lady of the couple complimented me on speaking her language so well. I told her that I knew “Hello,” “Thank you,” “You’re welcome” and how to swear.

“Everyone thinks they know how to swear in Greek,” she told me with a knowing smile, “but most of the time they really don’t.”

I let loose with a torrent of Athens-accented profanity that would get me a black eye from any cabbie in Southern Europe. She blushed and smiled, then her eyes got moist and she blotted away a tear.

“You remind me of my Uncle Costas,” she told me.

(2) How to read a racing form.

One of the owners was an enthusiastic loser of money at the dog track. I remember picking up one of his racing forms one day and asking him to explain it to me. He did, and it made a shocking amount of logical sense. I remember thinking at the time that it would be pretty easy to figure out a system to…

That’s when my brain — in one of its very rare moments of good judgment — reminded me that every guy in a rumpled suit with bloodshot eyes and a cheesed-off wife at home has a system for picking a winner from a racing form. In consequence, I have never set foot onto a racetrack.

But I would so very much love to.

Anyway, in honor of next Saturday, Kentucky Derby, Run For the Roses, yadda, yadda:

Solid, Not Quite Authentic Mint Julep

There are more people with strong opinions about mint juleps that there are self-absorbed white guys with podcasts, so I decided to look for a recipe in one of my older cocktail books, the 1935 Old Mr. Boston De Luxe Official Bartender’s Guide. Even in this early manual, there are two julep recipes: one simply labeled Mint Julep, and the other labeled Southern Style, implying a choice between good or authentic.

I’ve got no particular stake in either approach, but the standardized, less authentic version sounded better to me. Unfortunately, as is often the case in early cocktail recipes, ingredients and amounts are maddeningly vague. I’ve updated them here.

Ingredients

• “Four sprigs of fresh mint” — I used 1 gram of fresh mint leaves
• 2½ ounces bourbon — I went with Wiggly Bridge, which I’ve been enjoying lately.
• ½ ounce simple syrup
• club soda
• shaved ice — or ice that you’ve wrapped in a tea towel and taught a lesson to with a mallet

Fill a silver cup with shaved ice. I used one that I think used to be silver-plated.

Muddle the mint in the bottom of a shaker. Add several ice cubes, the bourbon and syrup. Shake enthusiastically.

Strain into your metal cup full of shaved ice. Top with club soda and stir with a silver spoon (or just a spoon) until frost forms on the cup.

Garnish with several more sprigs of mint. Drink while watching coverage of the Kentucky Derby and critiquing Southern women’s hats.

If you’ve never had a mint julep before, it tastes about like you would assume it would, like bourbon and mint. That’s the first sip.

On the second sip you start to appreciate the pulverized ice. There’s something profoundly satisfying about stirring a drink with that much ice with that particular texture. The Very Serious Coldness that it brings to your lips is just as gratifying.

The third sip brings an appreciation of this whole mint julep thing. You start to see the appeal.

Every subsequent sip brings less and less responsible thoughts to mind. Do not read a racing form while drinking this.

Featured photo. A fresh, totally solid mint julep. Photo by John Fladd.

The best tacos on the planet?

Imagine crispy, yet tender, bits of pork exploding with savory, sweet flavors in every bite. Next, imagine a super-simple cooking process that is borderline impossible to mess up and results in perhaps the best taco base in existence.

I’m talking about pork carnitas and while we’re at it, let’s make them with beer. Beer adds complexity and flavor to the meat as it cooks slowly, tenderizing in its own juices. Also, I think, and I can’t promise this is accurate, beer actually aids in the tenderization process, helping the meat get where you want to go faster.

Making carnitas, which translates to “little meats” in Spanish, is really more process than recipe. First you braise chunks of pork until tender, and then you crisp up the tender chunks. My understanding is that traditionally the meat is fried in its own fat until tender before it is deposited into tacos.

I’ve followed a bunch of different recipes and I’ve never been disappointed. I’ve made them with a variety of seasonings and braising liquids, including chicken broth, beer, white wine, cider, and a mixture of orange and milk — they’re all winners.

If you choose a lighter brew like a Mexican lager, such as Revuelta by Able Ebenezer Brewing Co. in Merrimack, it will impart some pleasing funkiness. A hard cider, such as Wild Thing by Contoocook Cider Co. in Contoocook, adds a little fruitiness and acidity that helps balance a pretty rich final product. A stout would impart more richness but I’d lean toward a drier stout so it doesn’t overpower the dish.

For carnitas, you need to use pork butt, which is actually pork shoulder. The meat is quite fatty and filled with connective tissue, which requires long cooking times to break down.

Start by searing the meat in a big Dutch oven, add the seasonings you like, add your braising liquid, and then either slowly simmer it on the stovetop, or cook it covered in the oven or in a crockpot until the meat is tender.

Once the meat is tender, you drain off the braising liquid and either fry up the tender chunks until crispy on the stovetop or, and this is what I prefer, crisp up the meat in a screaming hot oven or under the broiler. It’s just easier, more consistent, and less messy.

Smash your crispy bits of pork into a warmed tortilla and top with whatever you want: salsa, fresh lime juice, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, pickled onions, and so on. I do think less is more when it comes to toppings here.

Here’s just one way to make carnitas.

Pork Carnitas

• 3 to 4 pounds boneless pork butt, cut into 2-inch cubes
• 1 Tablespoon ground cumin
• 1 Tablespoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 3 or 4 garlic cloves, smashed
• 1 Tablespoon kosher salt, probably more
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 12 ounces beer, preferably craft-brewed in New Hampshire
• Vegetable oil, for searing

Heat a pot with a heavy bottom over high heat. Once hot, add a tablespoon or two of vegetable oil. Sear chunks of pork in batches, don’t crowd, until browned all over. Add all ingredients and bring to a simmer. Maintain a simmer, either over low heat on the stovetop or in a 350-degree oven, for about 3 hours until the meat is fork tender. Strain meat and remove garlic cloves and bay leaf. Arrange meat in a broiler-safe pan, drizzle over a few tablespoons of the braising liquid, and broil on high heat for about 10 minutes, turning halfway, until the meat is richly browned and crispy. You could also do this last step in a super-hot oven if you don’t have a broiler. Smash 2 or 3 chunks into a warm tortilla and top however you like.

What’s in My Fridge
Double Clip Double IPA by Stoneface Brewing Co. (Newington)
I’m sure I’ve had this before but somehow, maybe not? As my brother-in-law remarked as we cracked open a couple of these, “This is delicious.” It’s big, juicy and bold but the finish is quite smooth. Cheers.

Featured photo. Make pork carnitas. Photo by Frankie Lopez.

Exploring the variations of this classic Tuscan red

Those of us of a certain age fondly remember the bottle of Chianti, wrapped in a straw basket sitting on the red-checkered tablecloth in Billy Joel’s Italian Restaurant.

The best part of that bottle of wine was, in fact, the bottle. So romantic, repurposed as a candle holder as in that back-alley spaghetti dinner of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp. That bottle grew in texture and affection that only the wax could give it because the wine was dreadful! Is it any coincidence that “il fiasco” is Italian for a rough glass flagon, or flask, that is then wrapped in straw to protect it and allow it to stand properly?

But let’s move on to today’s Chiantis. You will have some difficulty in finding the straw-wrapped fiasco of Chianti today. Instead, there are bottles of Bolla Chianti lining the shelves of stores everywhere at very affordable prices. And most are vastly superior to that Chianti of 40 to 50 years ago. Chianti is a wine to be drunk with food. Its medium body, dryness and light tannins are a superior complement to baked Italian pasta dishes, pizza or braised beef. It is not a wine to sip unless it is accompanied by Italian cheeses from mozzarella to pecorino. It is a wine enjoyed in your college years because it’s affordably priced, but the experience shouldn’t end there. We have a line-up of three Chiantis from one winery that vary from each other significantly. And the bottles are not wrapped in straw!

Our first Chianti is the 2020 Castello di Querceto Chianti D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $15.99, reduced to $8.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). Just as with other Chiantis, this wine is principally made with sangiovese grapes, with a small fraction of other varietals added to soften the hard edges of the sangiovese grapes. Chianti wine emerged in the Renaissance in the Chianti region of Tuscany, between Florence and Siena. The Chiantis we enjoy today were formulated in the third quarter of the 19th century, providing some continuity and control within the region. The terroir of Chianti varies widely, resulting in a wide range of quality. This bottle can be loosely interpreted as “entry-level D.O.C.G. Chianti” (D.O.C.G. is a designation given to wine of the highest level of quality from that region). The wine has a ruby color, and to the nose a pleasant floral note, along with a fresh but dry tongue of cherries. Upon opening, this wine has strong tannins, so it should be decanted or opened well in advance of drinking to allow the tannins to subside. If you plan to cellar, this wine has an aging potential of three to five years.

Our second Chianti is the 2019 Castello di Querceto Chianti Classico D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $18.99, reduced to $10.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). This wine comes from vineyards in Greve in Chianti. It is matured in casks for 10 to 12 months, and then refined in the bottle for a minimum of three months. Produced from sangiovese grapes, with an addition of canaiolo grapes, it too has a ruby color, but with the slightest tinge of amber at the rim. To the nose it has notes of cherries, but with an added hint of clove. The tannins are lighter than the first Chianti and it remains fresh to the finish. Its dry smoky flavor is a departure from the first Chianti and worth the $2 increase in cost. This vintage can be cellared for an additional five years.

Our third Chianti is the 2017 Castello di Querceto Chianti Classico Riserva D.O.C.G. (originally priced at $24.99, reduced to $12.99 at the New Hampshire Liquor & Wine Outlets). This wine has a nose of cherries, augmented by cassis, berries, with slight floral notes. To the tongue, the fruit is joined by the addition of walnuts and chocolate and thus it becomes richer and more complex than the earlier Chiantis. Made from grapes grown at altitudes exceeding 1,200 feet, and barrel aged for two years, this Chianti exemplifies the best of the central region of Chianti Classico. While Chianti Classico improves with cellaring, this is a wine produced five years ago and unfortunately will only cellar for another handful of years, so purchase and enjoy this lush treat in a bottle now.

Have a little fun and treat yourself to a “horizontal tasting” of these three Chiantis. Consider it to be a trip through Tuscany to sample the bounty of the land. You will be delighted and enriched by the experience!

Featured photo. Courtesy photo.

So, here’s the thing – if you asked me to describe myself, I’d say I’m a fairly regular, run-of-the-mill guy. “High maintenance” is not a phrase that springs to mind. I’m a mushroom and jalapeño pizza with a Diet Sunkist kind of guy.

And yet, “regular” and “run-of-the-mill” are apparently terms that cover a wide spectrum of standards.

I was talking recipes with a work friend, as one does, and mentioned this Indian dish I was really grooving on at the moment.

“What’s in it?” she asked suspiciously. Apparently, I have a reputation.

“That’s the great thing about this,” I told her. “Aside from paneer, it’s all stuff you have around the house.”

“What’s paneer?” she asked.

“A type of Indian cheese,” I said.

“Could I use cheddar?” she asked.

“Um, not really. Anyway, you basically just need some cashews, and—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she interrupted. “When you say ‘cashews’, do you mean those nuts that fancy people serve at cocktail parties? Who keeps those in their house? I have seriously bought cashews maybe three times in my life.”

I assured her that they were easy to find, but completely flummoxed her when I mentioned cardamom.

“I’ve never even heard of that,” she informed me.

I’m not sure why I continued to describe the dish, because our communication gap just kept widening from there.

I mention this because I tried a new cocktail recipe this week. As I read over the ingredients, I was pleased to note with each one that I had it on hand:

“Pimm’s? Check. Elderflower liqueur? Also check. Gin? Very much, check.”

As I worked my way down the list, though, I realized that aside from lime juice and ice cubes, most people would not actually have any of these ingredients.

I wonder sometimes, if anybody actually makes any of the cocktails I develop, and I’m realistic enough to concede that the more exotic ingredients I call for, the less likely anyone is to actually try one of these drinks. I tried making the new cocktail with several shortcuts and substitutions that would bring it marginally more into the mainstream, and all of the variations were fine, but not as stunningly delicious as the exotic, labor-intensive version.

So, here’s what we’ll do — take out the best gin you have and make yourself a classic gin and tonic. Drink it while you make out your shopping list. You’ll feel braced and even a little sophisticated by the time you’re done.

Our high-maintenance drink is a riff on a cocktail called War of the Roses. I’ve taken some liberties with it, so it needs a new name. Based on the emotional scars I still have from watching the 1989 Kathleen Turner/Michael Douglas movie of the same name, I thought about calling this a Kathleen Turner Overdrive, but then I found out that there is a heavy metal band by the same name, and that’s not really the vibe I’m going for. I ended up settling for a simple, classic name: a Tudor Cocktail. The actual War of the Roses is where Henry VII defeated Richard III and became the first Tudor king of England.

Tudor Cocktail

Ingredients

• 1½ ounces Pimm’s No. 1, the liqueur usually used for making a Pimm’s Cup
• ¾ ounce cucumber-infused gin (see below)
• ¾ ounce St. Germain elderflower liqueur
• ¾ ounce fresh-squeezed lime juice
• ¼ ounce simple syrup
• dash Peychaud’s Bitters
• 0.4 grams fresh mint leaves
• 4 ice cubes

Bruise the mint by rolling it around between the palms of your hands, until it looks like sad spinach. Drop it into a cocktail shaker.

Add the rest of the ingredients and shake vigorously for about a minute.

Strain into a chilled coupé glass.

Garnish it, if you feel the need, but be aware that this drink is very confident in its own deliciousness and will give you some serious side-eye if you do.

Every ingredient in this drink makes its presence known. Yes, you can absolutely make this with regular gin, but the cucumber gin raises the taste to another level. I tried muddling a couple of slices of cucumber instead, and it was fine, but not as good. I also tried using cucumber syrup instead of simple syrup and that was fine too, but not transcendent.

Is this drink a project? Inarguably.

The good news is that once you’ve bought all the specialty alcohols and made the cucumber gin, you will have everything you need to drink a seriously injudicious number of these cocktails and recover, for a brief moment, a sense of wonder and an open heart.

Cucumber gin

Wash but don’t peel some cucumbers. The little Persian ones are really nice, but don’t stress over not finding any. Add equal amounts — by weight — of cucumbers and gin to a blender. Blend them on your lowest speed. The idea here is to chop the cucumbers finely enough to expose a lot of surface area to the gin, to help the infusion process. Pour the mixture into a wide-mouthed jar. Store in a cool, dark place for seven days, shaking twice per day. Strain and filter the gin.

You will be glad you did.

Featured photo. Tudor. Photo by John Fladd.

It just tastes like beer

“I thought it was time to shake things up,” my friend said as he walked back onto the patio somehow hanging on and balancing several hefty, frozen steins full of borderline overflowing suds.

“I just asked for something light and crisp — and really good,” he said.

This instance occurred during a gloriously sunny afternoon this past September, just a perfect day for relaxing with a few beers and some friends. We’d had a couple big IPAs and frankly, he was right, it was time to shake things up.

Lifting the stein with some trouble, I took my first sip. It was certainly light and crisp, but it was also quite flavorful. A light golden pour, the brew had a dry, extremely refreshing finish with minimal bitterness. This beer was begging for mouthfuls, not just little sips. It was incredibly drinkable.

Sure, some of it was the bracing, welcome change from a super-hoppy IPA to something much, much lighter, but it was also just a tremendous reminder that sometimes there’s nothing more pleasing than drinking a beer that tastes like a beer.

On the way out, we asked the bartender about the beer style and determined it was a local, craft-brewed kolsch.

I’ve written about Pilsners before and have always kind of pretended Pilsners and kolsches are the same thing, and while they’re similar they’re not the same. Pilsners tend to be a little more hoppy, a little more bitter. Kolsches tend to be even lower in ABV but they still feature plenty of flavor.

Craftbeer.com tells me the kolsch is technically a hybrid style of beer that marries elements of ale and lager production. Craftbeer.com also tells me the style “pairs best with bratwurst, nutty cheeses, and even lighter desserts like apricot cake,” and while I’m sure that’s on point, I think it pairs best with sitting outside on a warm, sunny day and a giant, frozen stein.

This is a style you can drink any time of the year but I think it’s best to get it onto your radar now, because I suspect you’ll be drinking it at cookouts and at the beach all summer long.

The reality is the kolsch is particularly versatile: it goes well with just about any food and any circumstance.

New Hampshire craft brewers haven’t ignored the style, which is great news for beer enthusiasts.

I loved the Herkules by Schilling Beer Co. and the Henniker Kolsch Style Ale by Henniker Brewing Co. is another wonderful rendition of the style. Perpetual Grüven by Great Rhythm Brewing in Portsmouth is terrific as well, as is Paradise Valley by Granite Roots Brewing in Troy.

The kolsch is the quintessential “better grab a frozen glass” beer, so get some glasses in the freezer, preferably steins, and get ready for some mouthfuls of bright, crisp, refreshing beer.

What’s in My Fridge
Grolsch Premium Lager by Grolsch Brewery (Netherlands)
OK, not a kolsch, but a couple weeks back I had one of these for the first time in I have no idea how many years. Honestly, as I think about it, my dad used to have Grolsch in the house when I was a kid but I have no recollection of ever having a Grolsch myself. I’m sure it happened at some point. I remember my dad letting my brother and me try a sip of Grolsch when we were little and I distinctly remember not liking it at all. My brother, on the other hand, had a more positive reaction and there’s photographic proof of him tilting the bottle way up to get that last sip. This features a zip of bitterness in an overall light, refreshing package. Here’s another beer that tastes like a beer.

Featured photo. Get the frosty mug ready. Photo courtesy of Jeff Mucciarone.