West Side Wine

What a blast we had this past weekend.  My dearest and oldest friend’s daughter got married up in the Berkshires, and along with all of her friends, a bunch of us geezers were invited as well. I got the wine assignment, naturally. BTW, two great wines that are crowd and wallet pleasers — the Barbi Aboccato Orvieto and the Monte Oton Garnacha.

Anyway, the plan was for an outdoor, open-air service, followed by dining al fresco on the front lawn of the bride’s grandfather’s house, with the sunset as our backdrop.  That was the plan.  Mother Nature had another plan (2-3″ of torrential rains in the forecast) so it was off to Plan B.  A tent was put up at the bottom of a hill, and a number of improvisations were made to accommodate the food and the bar. Okay, we could all live with that, and we all hoped that the weathermen were going to be wrong as usual. Not this time, unfortunately.  It didn’t stop downpouring from 5pm on.

So onward and upward, the ceremony begins, and it’s wonderful.  If you’ve never been to a wiccan wedding, take the opportunity if and when it comes.  It is the most natural, real, honest ceremony two people can have, and you can see where all the other religions got, or stole, their ceremonial traditions…straight from these guys.  The bride was incredibly upbeat as she and her husband-to-be shouted their vows over the rain pounding down on the tent roof.  The elements just didn’t matter to them, or to any of us.  Slowly the rain came running down the hill as the service progressed, until you could see large water masses forming on the tent floor, which was (or used to be) grass.  By the end of the night, we were all up to our ankles in mud, but it still didn’t matter.  The fun overrode the muck.  Fantastic Irish music played all night, there was dancing, singing, eating, drinking, laughing and lots of enjoying.  AND, the geezers were the there until the end, while even some of the youngsters found it too tough to hang out. Hah!  Oddly enought the worse it got meteorlogically, the more we threw ourselves into the joyousness of the event.  Some say that a deluge is the surest sign of good luck and prosperity for the newlyweds.  If that’s the case, these two will be married for a century and will hit the powerball lotto three times.  Mazel tov, guys! It was a blast.

For some reason, lately I’ve have been asked a lot about what’s going on out there in trend land. And it’s both customers and suppliers doing the asking. Now, I kind of expect it of suppliers, but customers? I wouldn’t think of choosing/buying a wine because it’s hot. But as we can all imagine, there is a current stampede toward “value” wines. Keeping that in mind as part of the equation, here’s what’s rocking from where I’m sitting. 

From Argentina, Malbecs are the new Pinot Noir. They’re inexpensive and, for the most part, satisfying. Chile is hot, because they make a lot of good reds that are bargains. New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs are the white version of Malbec. Hot hot hot, and it practically doesn’t matter which one you’re selling. Affordable regions in Italy (Puglia, Sardinia, Sicily), France (Southern Rhone, Languedoc, Loire), and just about any region in Spain and Portugal are sizzling.  I’m also liking the steady build of Rieslings from just about anywhere. Not a lot of money, or alcohol, and overall the wines are fantastic. That’s a great combination. One other oddity is the slow comeback of Merlot.  I guess “Sideways” didn’t quite finish this grape off. Conversely, Pinot Noir has definitely leveled off. No more scurrying around trying to lay my hands on any Pinot Noirs that I can find. It took a few years, but the “Sideways” memories seem to be fading.

So, what’s not hot? Australia, Champagne, California Syrahs, oaky Chardonnays, red Burgundies (my favorite, so there’s more for me), and just about anything high-end. 

So that’s the current state of affairs.  The earth will shift, no doubt, and this list will be outdated in not-too-distant future. But for now, this is the state of the grape. Oh, and one more hot one, especially this time of year. Rosés are flying higher than ever.  Don’t forget our little pink friends.

In case you missed it,  there was an excellent piece on SLATE the other day about importers who bring in wines that, according to the article, will guarantee you a good bottle every time.  I urge you to read it.  This is somewhat selfish, because I do a lot of business with most of these characters,  but I do it because they have great palates and a true sense and appreciation of natural wines and wine-making.  When I got into this business ten years ago, vin naturel was one of the best kept secrets in the business.  Fortunately, the guy that I bought the store from had a few wines left from a guy named Joe Dressner of Louis/Dressner. These bottles had been purchased by a former employee who really knew her wines.   At the time Joe, and probably Neil Rosenthal, were the only guys in the market that were going around with these “oddball” wines mostly from France.

Flash forward ten years, and the marketplace abounds with a number of savvy importers.  If you’re at all tenuous about selecting wines, the names mentioned in this article are great guideposts.  Just turn the bottle around and read the back label.  There, sometimes in small print you’ll find the importer’s name, which in the case of any of the guys mentioned, is a great seal of approval.

West Side Wine has come upon a unique marketing opportunity in the ever-expanding world of promotional possibilities – TomatoCam.net. 

Nestled at the base of Mt. Tamalpais lies the home of  Douglas and Cessna Kaye.  The Kayes have planted an exquisite tomato and pepper patch on their deck.  Doug, being an Internet pioneer and entrepreneur,  installed a camera overlooking the patch so that anyone could, at any time of the day, follow the progress of their suburban agrarian adventure. 

Think of it.  You’re hassled, getting yelled at by your boss, hounded by creditors,  frustrated by the daily annoyances of life.  Just stop.  Take a breath.  Visit TomatoCam.net.  Get rejuvenated, resucitated, re-energized, or just zen out.  That is the beauty of TomatoCam.net,  and that is why WSW seized the opportunity to secure an exclusive sponsorship.  I urge you to see for yourself.  It’s free, it’s fascinating, it’s fun.  Who knows?   You may actually catch a glimpse of Douglas or Cessna tending their crop or readjusting their irrigation system.  That’s the beauty of it.  You never know what you’re going to see on TomatoCam.net.  And that’s exactly why WSW is there. 

We are committed to improving your quality of life.  So when the day-to-day insanities are getting to you, chill.  Go to TomatoCam.net.  Everything will be okay.

The other day I had the opportunity  and privilege of meeting with, and tasting through the wines of, Sean Thackrey.  Our initial meeting was kind of funny, because here was this stranger pacing back and forth outside my store, who looked like he might have been out just a bit too late the night before.  Ever so slightly disheveled, he kept peering in and looking at me.  My first reaction was, “Oh, boy, what am I in for?”  When the guy finally walked in, I hesitantly asked if I could help him.  He said he was here to meet me.  I knew I had an appoinment with Sean Thackrey and his wine distributor, so I brilliantly put two and two together and said (embarassingly) “Ah, you must be Mr. Thackrey.”  What’s that thing about judging a book by it’s cover?  It turned out that I wasn’t entirely wrong, because he and the salesman did admit that they had indeed been up until all hours “tasting” the night before.

Anyway, he proceeded to place four bottles in front of me (Pleiades, Orion, Andromeda, and Acquila) and off I went.  Sean’s wines are legendary and they carry the price tags to prove it.  But if you ever get a chance to have a sip, do not pass it up.  As he pushed the Pleiades toward me (I did the pouring, myself — unheard of !), I took Sean through a Q&A to find out what he and his wine-making philosophy were all about.   He very modestly and clearly laid out the sheer simplicity of it all.  “I’m a chef, basically. I have these vineyards, one of which was  planted so long ago that no one knows what’s exactly what’s in it.  Then I harvest these grapes, bring them back to where I make the wine (he doesn’t use the term winery because it isn’t in the traditional sense) and proceed to put the dishes together.”   Sean is trained, but in Art History, not wine-making.  He doesn’t believe that that wine-making is something that can be taught. While he acknowledges that science has a place in the process, it’s a small one.   To quote from his website, “All the science in the world isn’t going to tell a chef what to do with a chicken.  It may suggest some experiments, and may explain some results, but the only result that counts is a better tasting chicken, and the only judge of ‘better’ is the pleasure the chicken gives the palate; and the essential job of the ‘chef’ (’wine-maker’) is to make that judgement, right now, right here, while the pan’s still on the flame.” 

Boy,you just can’t put it any better than that, and he’s one hell of a “chef”.  The wines were all complex, layered, balanced, and stunning.  And the next time I sample a wine that’s been “manufactured” with all of the latest and greatest  technologies, I will think back on my meeting with Chef Sean Thackrey.  Bravo, Sean. Keep the dishes coming.

Thank god for Stan’s, is all I can say.  Louie and I went up to the Bronx for our first game at the new stadium on game two of the first home stand.  We met at Stan’s, per usual, and the gang was  all there — Joe, Mike, little Mike, Carl, and Lou (the owner). It was like we never left. We congratulated them on their fine article in the Sunday New York Times “City” section, and settled into getting caught up on life’s happenings durning the long dreary winter months.  Ah, the rites of Spring.  After about an hour and a half of beers (not me, I was doing diet coke, another story), we headed on over to the new edifice, monument, mausoleum, whatever.  We were initially blown away by the openess,  light and airiness of the grand concourse.  So up we go to our second level seats, and a surreal Yankee Stadium concession and seating experience begins.  Starting with young, bright shining faces in pinstripes holding up signs that read, “May I help you?”  Huh?  We shook that off and looked at the concession stands to see what was being offered.  Beers starting at $9 (Budweiser.) Ugh.  Heineken — $11 for 16 oz.  Okay, but do we need to know the caloric content?  Apparently we do, because every food and beverage item comes with that piece of information.  Am I in a dream or a nightmare?  I had this experience once at a San Francisco Giants’ game, but I expected it there, not here. 

After taking this all in, we shrugged it off and took our seats.  Very nice.  The Stadium is the Stadium, on the field.  Same dimensions,  pretty much the same layout, with the exception of the Mohegan Sun Sports Bar in centerfield.  We kinda felt that we were actually in Yankee Stadium, until the home runs started flying out of the park.  Five for the Yanks, a couple more for Cleveland.  Weird, but we lived with it because we won.  But throughout the game we just felt that something was missing.  Like people in those ritzy seats in and around homeplate.  That can not look good on television.  Then those skyboxes with nobody home.  Then the craziness — there was none.  That was the most telling difference. We felt like we were in some civilized place, like Kansas City or Minnesota. 

I don’t know.  Maybe the stadium needs to be broken in and not treated like some precious new thing.  Time will tell.  We won,  and that was good.  By the way, if you’re interested, a 16 oz Heniken is 363 calories.

Spring is here, and it’s time for me to start expanding my inventory of rosés. As you may or may not know, I carry about 30 different rosés from all over the place during this time of year,  and about 6 or so all year round. I’m a big believer that these wines are great any time, not just when it’s 100 degrees out there. Every year I’m offered rosés from the previous vintage, because not all winemakers sell out of everything.  I jump all over the opportunity, and so should you. I think that rosés are even better the after a year and sometimes beyond, but most of my fellow retailers treat them as if they turn to vinegar over the winter.  WRONG! But that thinking works to my, and your, advantage.  Because importers have inventory left over, and because most retailers won’t touch the “old” stuff, the importer drops his prices drastically to me and in turn I drop the price drastically to you.  Rosés that normally cost $15 or $20 when “new” become $10 or $15 better tasting rosés.  And when you get vintages like 2007 that were phenomenal in places like the Rhone Valley ( where a lot of rosés come from),  you’re really making a killing.  Just because they’re pink doesn’t mean that they won’t age well over a couple of years. In Tavel, which is an appellation in the Rhone Valley that only makes rosés, they don’t think the wines are worth gulping until they’re two or three years old.  And in Spain there’s a wonderful winery in Rioja called Lopez de Heredia, whose current rosé release is 1998.  How’s that for “old”?  And it’s delicious.  So, if you’re nosing around for a rosé these days, look for ones that are a year old. They should be a bargain, and should be delicious.  Take it from the self-procalimed King of Rosé.

Tony Coturri

We just got back from  a very long weekend in Northern California. My bro-in-law, Doug,  was turning 60 and we decided to sneak out there and surprise him. Mission accomplished. When we rang his doorbell at 10 pm on Thursday he opened the door and just stared at us.  Thank god he didn’t have a heart attack or something.

Anyway, as part of the surprise we drove him, his wife Cessna,  and son Warren up to Sonoma for a great lunch at The Girl and The Fig,  followed by a surprise tasting of a bunch of new wines with our friends the Coturris.  Tony, five dogs and long time winery manager Billy  graciously greeted us as we pulled up in our rented van.  It was a gorgeous day, and we weren’t there five minutes when the glasses came out, and Tony started pouring.

We started with a barrel sample of the ‘08 rose.  Outstanding. This is his second vintage, and he puts every red known to man in it.  It will be bottled in a month or two, and I’ll get my hands on it by the beginning of June. I warned Tony that summer is fleeting and customers are waiting, but his response was that he thinks it’s perfect wine for Thanksgiving. While I totally agree with him, I  feat that I, and the people of Tavel in the Rhone Valley, are the only people who will drink  rose at Thanksgiving. In fact, Tony thinks his rose is very “Tavelian”, and we all agreed.  No pale pinkies for Coturri.

Then Nic (Tony’s son) joined us, and we moved on to the reds. They are really hitting their stride.  The ‘07 Primitivo was delicious.  Slight bit of residual sugar, but screaming for gorgonzola.  Then we moved on to a new Zinfandel, the ‘07 Jewel Pinot Noir, and then the star of the show –  the ‘07 Petite Syrah.  This wine is one of the finest he has made, in my opinion.  Focused, and a perfect assimilation of fruit and acidity.  All I could say to Tony after the first sip was “bulls-eye!”  I also did not spit any of it out.  Way too good to go down the drain.  We then moved on to his Cote de Cailloux Rhone blend, which was stunning, followed by a revisiting of their ‘07 Grenache and ‘06 Carignane.  What a treat.

I looked at the birthday boy, and he was  very happy.  All in all it was a fine day.  Great wines, wonderful hosts, and being with family.  Before we left, I couldn’t resist buying a few bottles  for the family’s wine cooler and for dinner that night.  The mood in the car as we drove away was one of total contentment and satisfaction.  It was a wonderful way to end a perect weekend.  We can’t until the next big birthday.

The period at the end of the sentence came a week ago Sunday, when Ellen and I attended Cathy’s (guide dog #1) graduation at the Guide Dog Foundation.  Any thoughts about her being released (and us getting her back) were eliminated. But in the end, it’s a very good thing.  

We got there early to drop off Tiffany (guide dog #2) at the kennels. We then went up to the administration building to be reunited with Cathy, and to meet her new partner/friend/companion/love/charge, Leon.

But before we get to it, we gather as a group to be given very strict instructions as to how we are to behave at the reunion.  No talking to, looking at,  or touching the dog you’ve lived with for an entire year, until you’re given permission.  Fat chance. I knew that wasn’t going to work.  Finally we’re brought in, one family at a time, to a large room where all the graduates (human and canine) are seated and awaiting our arrival.  Of course, the first thing that I do is look at Cathy, and her tail starts going a mile a minute. Aha!! She still recognizes me.  I knew it.  Then she starts to jump on me.  I loved it, but that’s a serious no-no.  We try to correct her, but then we realize that that’s Leon’s job, not ours anymore.  After things settled down, momentarily, we had the chance to get to know Leon.  A great guy…a high school physics for 42 years until he retired in 2002.  His wife urged him to apply for a guide dog a couple of years ago.  He had been together with Cathy for the preveious three weeks, training, and you could tell that he loved her and that they would be wonderful friends, partners and companions. That realization, and the fact that he had three kids, six grandchildren, a big backyard and a loving family, made it completely okay.  Cathy was in for a wonderful life. 

At one point in our conversation, Cathy’s lightbulb went off and she recognized Ellen.  She (Cathy, that is) started making weird noises like she was trying to tell her something.  The reunion was complete.  On the way out we spoke to Cathy’s trainer, who, rumor had it, had gotten particularly close to her.  As he started to talk about her, he said he was getting goose bumps.  “She’s one in a million.  She’s one of the great guide dogs,” he told us.  We were blown away.  We had serious doubts about her cutting it, let alone being one of the “greats”.  But, obviously, what do we know?

We left not shedding a tear.  Neither of us could figure out why not.  We finally came to the conclusion that we were just happy for her, for Leon, for his family.  No reason to cry.  It’s all good.  So long, Cathy.  Be happy.  Do greatness.  We love you.

Ellen and I got all dolled up on Monday night to attend the Broadway opening of “33 Variations”, a play starring Jane Fonda.  Now, normally this event might not get us out of the house, but it also happens to star my niece, Samantha Mathis, which is a very cool thing.  She decided to leave California and a nice TV and movie career for a year and try her luck in NYC.  No sooner had she unpacked, when she got this gig.  Doesn’t that happen to everyone? 

Anyway, it was a sparkling, star-studded event — Dolly Parton, Rosie O’Donnell, Geoffrey Rush, to name just a few. They all came to see Ms. Fonda return to Broadway after a 46 year absence.  Except us.  This was a family affair.  In fact, I ran into a WSW customer entering the theater.  I proudly told him that I was there to see my niece who’s starring in the play. “Well, what about Jane Fonda?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, she’s in it, too” I replied.  I don’t think he took that too well.  I hope he wasn’t her agent or something.

All the performances were excellent, Sam was great, and we were all weepy and proud at the curtain call.  We did the whole backstage thing afterward, and then subwayed it down to Buddakan for the big party.  All the limoed guests beat us to the food and booze line, which was endless.  Chaos was the watchword, but eventually we managed to find a quiet, empty corner of this massive space and had a great time. 

Go see it if you’re around.  I’m sure they are tickets at TKTS.  And if you bump into Samantha at the theatre, tell her we sent you.