We’ve left you, haven’t we, just like Londoners waiting for the next installment of Dickens’ serialized novels. It has taken a day or two longer to get back than we thought it would originally. However, if we don’t remove the bottles from the kitchen floor to recycling, the Prince Consort may abdicate!
So, let’s revisit the scene – the three wedding reception attendees invited and, just for fun, expertise and to introduce him and the restaurant to Mr. Bordelais, we’ve invited the Chef Cousin. We called him late Friday night as he was closing the restaurant and he not only agreed but also offered to bring a bit of charcuterie, bless him!
But they were invited for lunch and it is Saturday morning after a late evening of celebration. Up and off to the neighborhood supermarket. Now, dear Audience, we would be misleading if we left you thinking that our neighborhood supermarket was like a 7-11 in the Mojave Desert; it is much more like a politically incorrect Whole Foods with a very decent and affordable wine and alcohol section.
Considering the focus of the lunch was tasting Burgundies, in our morning fog, we could not decide whether the food was going to dictate the wine or the wine the food. Yes, yes, loyal Readers will immediately point out that we always say that food is simply the foil for the wine; however, we felt somewhat constrained by the fact that we had limited time to visit only one market prior to our guests’ arrival. Additionally, there is always the issue that we want to taste wines that might surprise or bring something new to the CC.
And frankly, we had to imagine that whatever was planned could be cooked easily regardless of the amount of wine degusted (remember we were swirling, sniffing, sipping and SWALLOWING, not spitting!). Therefore, we chose a variety of hors d’oeuvres – some spicy, some salty, no charcuterie – and some steaks we could grill and tangerines that the Prince Consort had demanded for dessert…. whatever….
We truly had tête dans les nuages, as the French say, or head in the clouds. Lunch was to be for six people max, probably five (not sure if or when Mr. Bordelais would arrive) but the best buy for steak was a package of five. Our desire for a bargain and a need to not to run out of food (we hate that) combined with the fog and we simply could not think to buy a single steak with the pack of five, so we came home with ten. You loyal Readers can imagine the Prince Consort’s face when he saw this! Days later His Nibs said, “Well you could have cooked the five steaks and sliced them for six.” Those French, so practical, but all we could imagine with his comment was lunch served after the sixth bottle with a side of ‘finger carpaccio in clotted sauce.’
Skipping home from the market, we dropped the groceries and headed down to the cellar with a big sack. Some choices were easy and obvious, some were less so. One or two took some false starts but we managed to choose enough bottles to have one or two in reserve if something failed. But, dear Audience, it is easier to choose for a degustation than for a formal dinner. If a bottle fails at a degust, is corked or has turned, it’s okay, part of the learning experience of a tasting; try explaining that in French at a formal dinner with your in-laws!
Well, have we brought you completely to the edge of your seat? Are you, dear Audience, chomping at the bit, figuratively of course? Waiting with bated breath for that magical list of wines? I planned to do even better than a list; yep, a photo…. but we’ve got to wait until someone shows up who can operate the camera. Don’t ask, but this is the sole reason we would consider getting a mobile phone that does something in addition to providing telephonic communication. But we digress, as soon as a camera operator appears, we’ll post some pics just for you.
Until then, here’s the list and the whys:
White Wines
* 2006 Saint-Véran, Domaine de la Croix Senaillet because it was in the refrigerator since we had visited the French version of Wal-Mart during their Foire aux Vins so it was certainly cold enough for the first bottle
* 2006 Saint-Romain, Sous le Château, Prunier Damy because avid Readers will remember our last trip to Burgundy where we were introduced to this wine and visited the village of Saint-Romain; the Chef Cousin is very fond of St-Romain
* 2000 Pernand-Vergelesses 1er Cru, Les Caradeux, Chanson Père et Fils because we think this wine by this producer is nectar of the gods; the CC knows Pernand but not this producer
* 1993 Pernand-Vergelesses, Pierre Marey et Fils because if 2000 is nectar this could be more so; we, with the CC, have visited and purchased Marey’s Pernand’s in the past years
* 1988 Château Couhins, Pessac-Léognan, Cru Classé de Graves (in reserve) because we bought this and keep hoping to find something it compliments
Red Wines
* 2003 Ladoix, Chevalier Père et Fils because after visiting Saint-Romain we ate in a restaurant with the CC, the Prince Consort and others where the chef is the daughter of this producer
* 1996 Beaune 1er Cru, Les Grèves, Jean Allexant because Mr. Bordelais had offered to bring another Beaune that he had recently bought; we have this producer’s 1990 Beaune in magnum and it is delightful
* 1987 Santenay 1er Cru, Gravières, Paul Chappelle because this was also bought at the French Wal-Mart’s Foire aux Vins and after tasting it the first time, we returned to buy all that remained in the store
* 1992 Corton-Renardes Grand Cru, Domaine Maillard Père et Fils because Corton is one of the great wines of Burgundy and we’d never tasted it
* 1983 Pommard, Platières, Domaine Perruchot (in reserve) because the CC always says he has never tasted a Pommard that lives up to the wine’s notoriety
Digestive
Graham’s Porto Vintage, 10 Year because we purchased it after drinking it for years and loving it on American Airlines’ international flights but had not opened one at home
Contributions
2004 Château Muret, Haut Médoc, Cru Bourgeois from the CC because he found the price-to-quality ratio to be very high and thought we should try it
1999 Beaune 1er Cru, Teurons, Bouchard Père et Fils because Mr. Bordelais had recently purchased it at auction and wanted us to taste it
We started around 1-1:30 and as we opened the Saint-Véran, introductions were made. The eager son-in-law manages a restaurant and hopes to open one some day; he and the Chef Cousin had much to discuss. That out of the way, the first glasses were examined. Sadly, we found the Saint-Véran lacking. With the Country Lady and the Girlfriend, we had visited this village and purchased wine that we found much more interesting. Aside from being cold and crisp, there was little to offer here and the price-to-quality ratio was way out of synch.
Next up (we left the St-Véran unfinished) was the 2006 Saint-Romain. St-Véran is from the southern region of Burgundy, Mâcon (another reason we were disappointed, normally these whites are so much rounder with soft fruit in the mouth and lovely florals in the nose grâce of their southern sun), and St-Romain is Côte de Beaune. The village of Saint-Romain is very old and developed on top of a sharp cliff and at the bottom of it as if one night the rocks moved and sheared it into two. In reality, we believe originally the local château was on the top of the cliff, for visibility and defense, while the villagers lived below in the shadow of the château.
St-Romain is a round and gras (literally ‘greasy’ meaning it lingers in the mouth) wine that is often drunk very young. It traditionally exhibits the minerality of white wines from the upper regions of Burgundy but with its own roundness and balance; not as particular as a Meursault but very pleasing in an approachable manner. This one by Prunier was great. The domain is rather spread out over the Côte de Beaune and much of the harvest and production is mechanized which we believe favors simpler wines such as this St-Romain. It’s a keeper!
From here, staying on the Côte de Beaune, we opened the 2000 Pernand-Vergelesses 1er Cru. As we’ve mentioned, we feel this is nectar. Love, love, love this wine. Bought some for a wedding present, got to taste one and fell in love with it. Now the search engine is eternally pointed at Pernand. Chanson is an old domain dating back to the 19th century that was bought by Champagne Bollinger in 1999, interestingly enough. We always complain, as loyal Readers will remember, that Americans drink wine too young and what they miss is exactly what makes this wine sing – the perfect balance of tannins and warm spices, of minerality and honey. It is a lovely golden color; it’s nectar!
The next opened, with a real eye (or tongue) to side-by-side comparison, was the 1993 Pernand. Note: it was not a completely fair comparison as the ’93 was not a 1er Cru and the domains were not the same, obviously, but knowing Marey as we do, we thought it would be interesting (and surprising to the CC). We’d also chilled this one only slightly. It had come from the cellar cool and it had less time in the refrigerator than the rest. Why? Tell them, devoted Audience, how, in addition to too young, white wines Americans drink are too cold. Frozen to death at birth, these poor wines; Americans might as well drink Coke Zero.
But we digress yet again. Minimal chilling allowed the full beauty of this wine to shine through. While not fragile, a 1993 village appellation is not going to explode in the glass; however, if the 2000 Pernand is nectar, it is derived from this source. The color was richer, the nose fuller with that highly desirable muskiness. In the mouth there was honey and spices without sweetness balanced perfectly with structure provided by the minerality of the soil in the village of Pernand.
Meanwhile, we are eating beautiful charcuterie – a great pile of sliced jamon from Spain and fromage de tête persil which is made from things you, dear Reader, may not wish to know but when it is well made, as this was, is delightful served cold! As we discussed wines and ate finger foods, a telephone call announced the imminent arrival of Mr. Bordelais.
We’ll begin to open reds after his arrival!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
J.O.
Yep, that's what it is called in French; imagine! Oh, oh, no, we mean the historic games that happen each two years, winter or summer, Jeux Olympiques in French. We mention this only because the past weekend felt like an Olympic training or, perhaps, a torch run in Paris. Oh, n’inquiétez pas dear Reader, we’ll leave THAT discussion to the political bloggers, here we have serious discussions – wine, food, and more wine.
So, this is the scenario: leave New York on Thursday night, fly business class (bless those miles) to Paris, drink the very good Champagne they serve onboard, oh, and a glass or two of a Chablis Premier Cru but then we did sleep, and well. Arrival was Friday about noon; home to the Onzième with time to unpack before a quick nap. Wake up at 3:30pm for a shower and the dash to Marie de la Neuvième for (drum roll please) THE WEDDING OF PRINCESS P AND L’AVOCAT.
In a lovely room with gilded moldings and a painted ceiling, the Mayor of the Ninth Arrondissement of Paris officiated over a brief but agreeable ceremony joining them in matrimony, not holy, just matrimony. Note: France in a valiant effort to separate democratic government from the royalty and that group’s hardwired connection to the Church eliminated the power of the clergy to perform weddings. As a result, all ‘big-white-church-weddings’ must be preceded by a civil ceremony at a mayor’s office. On this day, there was to be no ‘big-white-church-wedding’ and after the ceremony, the family headed back to the newly weds’ apartment for what the French call a cocktail dînatoire.
Simply a cocktail party with enough food to make a dinner of it (don’t we all remember loving events like that when we were too young to afford restaurants but desperately wanted to ‘eat out’ with friends), a cocktail dînatoire is also an excellent way to bring a large group of friends and family together in a celebratory fashion without working oneself to death or outspending the aforementioned royalty.
Admittedly, the French and the cocktail are almost an oxymoron (a ‘martini’ here is sweet vermouth on the rocks) and until recently cocktail bars were called bar americains. French cocktail parties for much of our time in Paris were to be suffered, rather than anticipated, with their rows and rows of tasteless canapés and mountains of sauce-free crudités. The quick and clever among you dear Readers (even if a bit provincial) will ask why, with all the beautiful cheese in France, are there not lovely trays of it on the cocktail tables, and I must reply that cheese is ONLY served at the end of the meal; it serves a purpose, “to close the stomach,” as the French say. Probably, today we could say that the acids in cheese aid in digestion while creating a feeling of fullness. At your next encounter, ask the Girlfriend about the French Cheese Cure.
Similarly, Intimes among you, loyal Audience, will recall for years we have said one should not expect to eat anything memorable in France except French food – there are corn kernels and over-easy eggs on pizza in Italian restaurants!! – but if there is a positive side to globalization, one can taste it today in Paris, even at a cocktail dînatoire. This evening of celebration we were served typical French canapés – hot and cold – but far from tasteless, crudités with three sauces, sushi, tapas, and brochettes of chicken and of shrimp. Typically French, the end of the food service was signaled with a large cheese platter and the end of the evening, with orange juice (every proper bourgeois French household has a ‘good’ orange juice service – a large pitcher and 6 tall glasses – for use at the end of an evening; the host or hostess brings this service out on a platter, offers everyone a glass of juice and the guests know it is time to collect their coats and leave!).
And this evening, not only were the canapés not tasteless, apropos of our previous comment about ethnic food in Paris, the tapas were probably the most interesting offering. Many were served in individual tiny plastic cups or spoons, all were bite-sized and wonderfully spiced. We could have leaned on a bar, drunk inexpensive red Spanish wine and eaten these all evening, but this was not to be! It was a cocktail party after all, and it is our duty, as an American, to get out there and chat up the room. So, glass in hand, we attempted to perform our patriotic duty.
Ah, you ask, what was in that glass? There was a lot of champagne, and in magnums. You, dear Audience will remember how much we love magnums. And certainly there was red wine – a 2005 Hautes-Côtes de Nuits. Of course, you need to know that we were 80 – 90 guests, and we all remember that 2005 was a phenomenal year for red Burgundies, but many of us think that this year might be better left in a dark cellar for the time being. Nevertheless, we were not awash in ignorance; heavens, we were at a reception in France.
As the night wore on, we noted several ‘distinguished’ gentlemen with empty glasses circling a corner of the buffet table. We inserted ourselves into their flight pattern and inquired of their plan. Apparently, there were several potentially worthwhile bottles sitting on the side ‘waiting’ for the right moment. We, being of deep and significant bonds to Princess P, took it upon ourselves to entertain her guests and tire-bouchon (corkscrew) in hand, we inquired which to open. Obviously some discussion had already taken place as the answer was immediate – the 1991 Pauillac. One of the gentlemen, Mr. Bordelais, pointed out that although it is often a good policy in Bordeaux to buy good wines in off years to have fair prices, this bottle might be past its prime.
We pulled the cork, took a sniff of the bottle and knew his prediction was correct. The bottle was completely oxidized and spoiled, madeirized, even if that adjective is used most correctly with white wines and most probably, as the name implies, to describe ‘cooking’ from improper storage. The wine had not turned to vinegar and could be drunk, just not by us. This prompted a young son-in-law, eager to please, to fetch a magnum from Spain that he had brought along to share. The evening was late and long, our excuse for remembering only that the wine was a 2003 Rioja. When poured, it offered the typically sharp nose and taste of Rioja, but with lingering notes in the mouth that made one take notice of it promise. It took some time to open in the glass, but upon doing so the fullness of the wine was more apparent. Sadly, as we, dear Audience, know, magnums take twice as long to mature as traditional bottles, and this one probably could have benefitted from a few more years in the dark but it was an interesting counterpoint to a night of French wines.
With only a bit more frivolity (and a little single-malt nightcap), the Prince Consort demanded to be taken back to the Onzième so we said our goodbyes, but not before inviting the eager son-in-law, his step-father-in-law and Mr. Bordelais to come and degust with us the next day, Saturday, over lunch.
Close of the first leg of the run!
So, this is the scenario: leave New York on Thursday night, fly business class (bless those miles) to Paris, drink the very good Champagne they serve onboard, oh, and a glass or two of a Chablis Premier Cru but then we did sleep, and well. Arrival was Friday about noon; home to the Onzième with time to unpack before a quick nap. Wake up at 3:30pm for a shower and the dash to Marie de la Neuvième for (drum roll please) THE WEDDING OF PRINCESS P AND L’AVOCAT.
In a lovely room with gilded moldings and a painted ceiling, the Mayor of the Ninth Arrondissement of Paris officiated over a brief but agreeable ceremony joining them in matrimony, not holy, just matrimony. Note: France in a valiant effort to separate democratic government from the royalty and that group’s hardwired connection to the Church eliminated the power of the clergy to perform weddings. As a result, all ‘big-white-church-weddings’ must be preceded by a civil ceremony at a mayor’s office. On this day, there was to be no ‘big-white-church-wedding’ and after the ceremony, the family headed back to the newly weds’ apartment for what the French call a cocktail dînatoire.
Simply a cocktail party with enough food to make a dinner of it (don’t we all remember loving events like that when we were too young to afford restaurants but desperately wanted to ‘eat out’ with friends), a cocktail dînatoire is also an excellent way to bring a large group of friends and family together in a celebratory fashion without working oneself to death or outspending the aforementioned royalty.
Admittedly, the French and the cocktail are almost an oxymoron (a ‘martini’ here is sweet vermouth on the rocks) and until recently cocktail bars were called bar americains. French cocktail parties for much of our time in Paris were to be suffered, rather than anticipated, with their rows and rows of tasteless canapés and mountains of sauce-free crudités. The quick and clever among you dear Readers (even if a bit provincial) will ask why, with all the beautiful cheese in France, are there not lovely trays of it on the cocktail tables, and I must reply that cheese is ONLY served at the end of the meal; it serves a purpose, “to close the stomach,” as the French say. Probably, today we could say that the acids in cheese aid in digestion while creating a feeling of fullness. At your next encounter, ask the Girlfriend about the French Cheese Cure.
Similarly, Intimes among you, loyal Audience, will recall for years we have said one should not expect to eat anything memorable in France except French food – there are corn kernels and over-easy eggs on pizza in Italian restaurants!! – but if there is a positive side to globalization, one can taste it today in Paris, even at a cocktail dînatoire. This evening of celebration we were served typical French canapés – hot and cold – but far from tasteless, crudités with three sauces, sushi, tapas, and brochettes of chicken and of shrimp. Typically French, the end of the food service was signaled with a large cheese platter and the end of the evening, with orange juice (every proper bourgeois French household has a ‘good’ orange juice service – a large pitcher and 6 tall glasses – for use at the end of an evening; the host or hostess brings this service out on a platter, offers everyone a glass of juice and the guests know it is time to collect their coats and leave!).
And this evening, not only were the canapés not tasteless, apropos of our previous comment about ethnic food in Paris, the tapas were probably the most interesting offering. Many were served in individual tiny plastic cups or spoons, all were bite-sized and wonderfully spiced. We could have leaned on a bar, drunk inexpensive red Spanish wine and eaten these all evening, but this was not to be! It was a cocktail party after all, and it is our duty, as an American, to get out there and chat up the room. So, glass in hand, we attempted to perform our patriotic duty.
Ah, you ask, what was in that glass? There was a lot of champagne, and in magnums. You, dear Audience will remember how much we love magnums. And certainly there was red wine – a 2005 Hautes-Côtes de Nuits. Of course, you need to know that we were 80 – 90 guests, and we all remember that 2005 was a phenomenal year for red Burgundies, but many of us think that this year might be better left in a dark cellar for the time being. Nevertheless, we were not awash in ignorance; heavens, we were at a reception in France.
As the night wore on, we noted several ‘distinguished’ gentlemen with empty glasses circling a corner of the buffet table. We inserted ourselves into their flight pattern and inquired of their plan. Apparently, there were several potentially worthwhile bottles sitting on the side ‘waiting’ for the right moment. We, being of deep and significant bonds to Princess P, took it upon ourselves to entertain her guests and tire-bouchon (corkscrew) in hand, we inquired which to open. Obviously some discussion had already taken place as the answer was immediate – the 1991 Pauillac. One of the gentlemen, Mr. Bordelais, pointed out that although it is often a good policy in Bordeaux to buy good wines in off years to have fair prices, this bottle might be past its prime.
We pulled the cork, took a sniff of the bottle and knew his prediction was correct. The bottle was completely oxidized and spoiled, madeirized, even if that adjective is used most correctly with white wines and most probably, as the name implies, to describe ‘cooking’ from improper storage. The wine had not turned to vinegar and could be drunk, just not by us. This prompted a young son-in-law, eager to please, to fetch a magnum from Spain that he had brought along to share. The evening was late and long, our excuse for remembering only that the wine was a 2003 Rioja. When poured, it offered the typically sharp nose and taste of Rioja, but with lingering notes in the mouth that made one take notice of it promise. It took some time to open in the glass, but upon doing so the fullness of the wine was more apparent. Sadly, as we, dear Audience, know, magnums take twice as long to mature as traditional bottles, and this one probably could have benefitted from a few more years in the dark but it was an interesting counterpoint to a night of French wines.
With only a bit more frivolity (and a little single-malt nightcap), the Prince Consort demanded to be taken back to the Onzième so we said our goodbyes, but not before inviting the eager son-in-law, his step-father-in-law and Mr. Bordelais to come and degust with us the next day, Saturday, over lunch.
Close of the first leg of the run!
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