Monthly Archives: April 2010

• This year’s edition of A Taste of Argentina, a wine tasting fundraiser for the Edmonton Jazz Society, will be held at the Sutton Place Hotel on May 4. Tickets are $65, available through Tix on the Square or the Jazz Society.

• When authors attack: this list of the 50 best author vs. author put-downs is highly entertaining. A lot of these insults were slung in the 18th and early 19th centuries, but a few memorable ones involve contemporary authors like J.K. Rowling. Unfortunately, one of my favourite author-on-author slanders is absent from this list: Stephen King bashing Stephenie Meyer.

• deVine Wines & Spirits is hosting its 5th Anniversary Tasting on Saturday, May 1. Hard to believe it’s been almost two years since I stopped working there!

• Sorrentino’s 19th Annual Garlic Festival is well underway. This year features black garlic, which is created through fermentation. It has a molasses-like sweetness with garlicky undertones; it also has twice the antioxidants of raw garlic and supposedly produces none of that stinky garlic breath aftereffect. Sounds too good to be true.

• Nina Paley, creator of the fantastic animated film Sita Sings the Blues, is still fighting the copyright fight. Her crusade for copylefting is noble, courageous and extremely frustrating. If you haven’t seen Sita, stop everything you’re doing and download it RIGHT NOW. Seriously. It will change your life.

• I was intrigued by this article about the relationship between wine and music. It reminds me of the studies conducted by Frédéric Brochet in 2001 about the subjectivity of wine. It supports what I’ve been saying for years: wine is a subjective, social phenomenon.

• Lux Steakhouse is having a Sebastiani wine dinner on May 1. They’ll be serving pork tenderloin, sous-vide duck, and grilled lamb.

• To anyone who claims they have a sulphite allergy: no you don’t. Sulphites are one of the most misunderstand compounds in the world, and I’ve heard way too many people citing their alleged sulphite allergy as the reason why they can’t drink red wine/why wine gives them a headache. News flash: a sulphite allergy causes respiratory problems, similar to an asthma attack, in the 1% of the population with this allergy. While the compounds that cause the infamous “red wine headache,” this definitely isn’t caused by sulphites. Try eating a couple pickles, or a handful of dried apricots, to test your sulphite sensitivity – if you can’t breathe after eating them (both of those foods contain way more sulphites than most wines), perhaps you do have a sulphite allergy. Ok, I’m done ranting now.

This past Saturday evening I had the privilege of hosting a wine dinner at the Chateau Louis hotel. It may not be the first place you’d think would offer such an epicurean event, but between head chef Lorne Soles’ culinary wonders and my wine pairing expertise (if I do say so myself), it was a fabulous night.

I started off the evening by serving the NV Nieto Senetiner Brut Nature. This Argentinean bubbly is made from 100% Pinot Noir in the Champagne method. It sits on the skins after pressing for just enough time to imbue the wine with a lovely salmon pink colour. As the term “Brut Nature” denotes, this wine is very dry – pretty much as dry as they come. Slightly earthy, slightly citrusy, with delicate effervescence and lively acidity, this is as close as you can get to Champagne without forking over at least $50 for the real thing.

Once everyone had seated themselves at the U-shaped table in the elegant Crowne Suite of the hotel, we quickly moved through introductions and on to the first course – a warm seafood pâté stuffed with scallops, lobster and mushrooms, served in basil cream sauce. This made an absolutely stunning pairing with the 2007 Paul Zinck Pinot Gris. 2007 was a fabulous vintage in Alsace and this quality is reflected in wines at all tiers. At just over $20 a bottle, this vintage of the Zinck is one of those values that gives hope to impoverished vinophiles such as myself. The wine is a lovely deep yellow colour with earthy aromas of mushroom and wet stone, along with some honeyed peach and spritzy citrus overtones. The palate is slightly off dry but it finishes with a rush of sparkling acidity, a trademark of the 2007 vintage and the reason why this paired so nicely with the seafood pâté.

The next course was a roasted fennel and red onion salad served with a cracked black peppercorn dressing, paired with the 2008 13th Street Cabernet Rosé from Niagara. The wine is a 50/50 blend of Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc. The wine is slightly sweet, which took down some of the heat and dryness from the peppercorns and also complemented the sweetness in the red onion. Thanks to the wine’s herbal and green pepper overtones (contributed by the Cabernet Franc), it also stood up to the fennel’s herbaceous quality. Hopefully I managed to convert a few people to pink wine with this pairing!

The main course – and the hands-down favourite of the night – was an apple wood smoked pork chop stuffed with apples, pears, dried cranberries and pecans, served with tomato spatzle, roast carrot puree and baby spinach sautéed with pine nuts. Lorne delighted the crowd by flambéing the side of pork in whisky before carving it up and dishing it out.

I paired the pork chop with the 2006 Ridge Geyserville Zinfandel. Now, I know what you’re thinking – that’s a huge, full-bodied wine – why the hell would anyone pair it with pork?! Well, that pork was smoked, my friends – and the smokiness of the meat was complemented beautifully by the earthy, smoky notes in the wine. Furthermore, the dried fruit aromas in the wine matched the fruit inside the pork, while the Zin’s sweet vanilla tones (from aging in American oak) matched the sweet whisky crust on the chop. To blow off some of the wine’s hot alcohol component (the Ridge checks in at a hefty 14.6%) and punchy tannins, I also decanted the wine for a couple hours prior to serving. Everyone loved this wine; it’s so good on its own, and a marriage like this only brought out the best of both wine and food.

We ended the evening with a comforting almond and bread pudding in Mackintosh toffee sauce, paired with the Quinta do Noval 10 Year Old Tawny Port. Bread pudding and tawny port is a pretty classic pairing, and no one was disappointed with this showing.

Everyone left with a warm glow of satiation. I’d like to thank the Chateau Louis for having me back as host – and I’m already looking forward to the next Crowne Suite wine dinner!

Note: This was the third wine dinner at the Chateau Louis – they have one every few months. The next one should occur in late summer or early fall.

My knowledge of and experience with Greek wine is sadly lacking. Save for an in-depth Greek wine tasting I attended over a year ago, I really haven’t had much exposure to these wines.

The other day I was in a Grapes & Grains on the south side of the city, and I noticed they had several Greek wines for sale (huddled amidst a couple Georgian wines and a handful of Hungarians, all of them sadly languishing in the “other” section – which is basically code for the “overlooked by the majority of customers” section.) Out of the handful of wines I had to choose from, the 2005 Tstantali Rapsani clearly stood out, by virtue of a line on its back label: this wine hails from “an appellation from the southern slopes of Mount Olympus.” Well, hot damn! This wine is practically endorsed by Zeus himself – how could I not buy a bottle?!

I’m happy to report that this Olympian wine did not disappoint. (And I’m not just saying that because I’m afraid of invoking the wrath of the gods and getting struck by a bolt of lightning.) It was refreshingly medium-bodied; it seems like I’ve been drinking a lot of heavier wines these days. I blame it on my penchant for Malbec – it’s just such a good default wine when you have to select a glass at a restaurant or bar. I’ve never had a Malbec that was really bad; at worst they are just forgettably mediocre. That said, Malbec definitely falls within the realm of those ever-trendy bigger, heavier, juicier (faster, higher, stronger) wines. I had too many big wines over the winter; my palate is fatigued. I crave something lighter. (And no, Robert Parker, I am NOT an “Anti-Flavour Wine Elitist.”)

I was ever so happy that the Rapsani didn’t whack me over the head with a wallop of vanilla from American oak, or suffocate me with a dose of jam-like fruit overtones. Instead, I was treated to elegant, restrained aromas of warm baking spices carried along a current of wood smoke and accented by hints of herbs (oregano, basil) and leather. Underneath these primarily earthy aromas was a warm, fruited profile, framed with dried plum, fresh tomato and black olive (how very Greek!).

The palate was, as I said, no heavier than medium-bodied. The tannins were very smooth and rounded, and the acidity was medium-high – perfect for food pairing. There was some oak influence, but it was more of a toasty quality; I suspect that the oak in which the Rapsani aged for 12 months was French oak, not American. I was also intrigued by the flavour profile, as it differed considerably from all those ubiquitous New World, über-fruity wines that I’ve had too much of lately; this profile derives from the blend of traditional indigenous Greek grapes: Xinomavro, Krassato and Stavroto. Though Xinomavro trends towards dark fruit aromas and high alcohol levels, none of these grapes typically make for anything overtly fruity; these bad boys are all about earthiness, offering only suggestions, not declarations, of fruit – especially after they’ve been in the bottle for a few years. The Rapsani was also starting to turn brick red in colour, a typical characteristic of Xinomavro (and oh-so-refreshingly-different than those inky-black Malbecs).

I’m definitely going to investigate more Greek wines; I know there are a few out there, even though they aren’t easy to come by in the city. Most of the ones readily available are either cheap Retsinas and/or made by a couple of big Greek wine producers. That said, the big producers are often a safer bet when choosing wines you know little about, and this wine from Tsantali (a big Greek wine producer) is no exception. And at just under $20 a bottle, I will definitely buy the Rapsani again – I know it will pair beautifully with smoked pork chops or perhaps a lightly seasoned veal dish.

It’s almost a week after the fact, but I thought I’d put up a link to my profile of Moriarty’s Bistro & Wine Bar, one of the newest editions to Edmonton’s wine bar scene. This article was the feature in the Dish section of the April 15 issue of Vue Weekly.

I was very impressed by Moriarty’s when I visited a few weeks ago – the decor is very chic, the menu is great and their wine list is solid. You can expect a good offering of tapas-style food and a New World-heavy wine list. They also have an Enomatic system, which they use for several of their high-end wines. (Check out my recent article on the Enomatic, which was the cover piece of Vue Weekly’s March 18 issue.) Moriarty’s certainly makes an awesome edition to Edmonton’s wine bar scene!

Moriarty’s is located on Rice Howard Way in downtown Edmonton, at 10154-100 Street, right next door to the perennial Sherlock Holmes pub. You can check them out by following the link on the Edmonton Pubs website.

A little collection of happenstances from the past week. At least those hundreds of thousands of stranded airline passengers can take solace in knowing that the cause of their misfortune makes for some pretty pictures.

• Take that, cork industry: check out this proof of why screwcaps are so much better than corks, natural or synthetic, for long-term wine aging.

• Everyone needs to see these absolutely stunning photos of the Eyjafjallajokull volcano eruption. I had no idea lightning could be associated with a volcanic eruption.

• “Freshly ground black people,” or “How Penguin learned why a good proofreader is so very necessary, even for cookbooks.”

• Alley Kat just released their new summer brew – the Brewberry Blueberry Ale. Sounds tasty! It should start arriving in local liquor shops any day now.

• These biodegradable plant pots are so much better than those shitty plastic things accumulating in my garden shed. Make them mandatory, please.

• On a related note to the previous link, it’s going to be a long, dry summer on the prairies. For fellow gardeners, consider planting species that can better tolerate heat and drought. For the rest of you, don’t say I didn’t warn you about the inevitable, extended fire bans that are sure to hold throughout the summer – pack your Coleman stove on your camping trips.

• Can video games follow evolution? I buy it – if only because it gives me an excuse (misinterpreted though it may be) for my former crippling addiction to a certain MMORPG. It’s aliiiiive!

• Oh, come on – if we could cause earthquakes, do you think any woman would choose to live in such an oppressive, sexist, backwards society?

• There’s still some time left to buy tickets for the wine dinner I’m hosting this Saturday, April 24, at the Chateau Louis Hotel. Tickets are $95 – which is expensive, I realize, but that gets you a fabulous four-course meal paired with five delicious wine…not to mention an evening of my company. Call 780-452-7770 to book your spot and support this starving sommelier.

Great, thanks New York Times. Now every time I eat cilantro I’m going to think of bed bugs, or soap. Or soapy bed bugs.

For the record, I love cilantro. A lot. Actually, I’ve wondered about the degree of love I feel for this herb, as I don’t have a drop of Latin American or Mediterranean blood in my body, yet as soon as I tasted this plant I wanted more. I don’t even chop it up to put in my burritos or guacamole – I just toss in the whole leaves, relishing the pungent rush of flavour that flows across my palate as I munch on them.

However, I’m aware that a large portion of society does not share this love for the herb. A gentleman at my workplace despises cilantro, and has told me that I’m the first person he’s met who actually likes it. My husband also does not like it very much, forever declining the bowl of leaves I always push towards him when we’re eating Mexican food.

I wasn’t completely taken by surprise, then, when I read this article in the New York Times, about an actual chemical basis explaining the common revulsion to cilantro. Evidently, cilantro shares several of the same or similar aldehydes with soaps, lotions and the bug family of insects. This explains why some people experience a strong revulsion to the plant – it reminds them of something they shouldn’t be putting in their mouths, and the primal part of the brain (responsible for keeping humans alive over the millennia by identifying possible poisonous or dangerous things) kicks in, making these individuals have a strong emotional response against the offending herb.

The article also discusses an (unfounded) idea that the word “coriander” (the European name for cilantro) derives from the Greek word for “bedbug,” and that people have compared the smell of the plant to “bug-infested bedclothes.” I suppose I can’t fault someone for hating cilantro if that’s really what they smell – it would sure make me run screaming from the table.

But the (perhaps) good news is that people can get over it. The article goes on to discuss one Jay Gottfried, a neuroscientist at Northwestern University and former cilantrophobe. Apparently if you persist in eating the herb, your mind will begin replacing those negative emotions with positive ones, and eventually the smell and taste of cilantro won’t evoke repulsive images of soap and bugs. Of course, many people will never convert, as they simply won’t subject themselves to the initial unpleasantness eating something they find repellent.

I’m happy I’m part of the crowd of cilantro lovers, though. Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown the herb myself, or because I’ve never encountered bed bugs, but I’ve never found the plant to be offensive at all. Pungent, yes, but buggy? Never.

A little list of some happenings in the worlds of wine and food, books and literature…and cruise ships. It’s all related on some level.

• Drops of God, a Japanese manga comic about one man’s journey to discover the 13 best vintages after inheriting a wine fortune from his father, might be translated into English. (Please, please let it be translated – I so need to read this.)




• My Cantabrigian pal Nicholas Tam comments on the Scrabble debacle that went down last week. As an aside, he totally called the National Post on their being too slow on the uptake with this story – but that didn’t stop them from declaring that the new Scrabble rules spell anarchy on the front page of the April 7 issue.




• Now they just need to apply this idea to carpet – check out a tablecloth that turns spilled wine into pretty patterns. My living room floor would be a friggin’ masterpiece if I had something like this underfoot.




• Local foodie Sharon Yeo reviews the Melting Pot, a new fondue restaurant in Edmonton. I can’t wait to embark on my own hours-long fondue odyssey.




• At last, I’ve got someone else to back up my opinion that synthetic wine closures are the root of all evil and a threat to life as we know it. Or rather, to wine’s life as we know it.




• I will be hosting an epic wine and food dinner at the Chateau Louis Hotel on Saturday, April 24. Tickets are $95 and you can reserve a spot by calling the hotel at 780-452-7770. I know it isn’t cheap, but you’ll be treated to a four-course meal and five healthy glasses of stellar wine, served up in the gorgeous Crowne Suite of the hotel. Plus, I’ll be leading the event – what other reason do you need to buy a ticket NOW?




• Finally, this last link is not in any way current (given that the story was written fourteen years ago), but it’s an absolutely fabulous piece of writing and all the proof you need to never, ever go on a cruise. Ever. I have a close friend who recently worked on a cruise line for a few months, and she can attest to the fact that it is so much worse than this article portrays it – and it already looks pretty terrible.

The good news: I finished knitting a hat yesterday.

The bad news: it isn’t actually a hat – it’s a gigantic head bag.

I don’t get it. I followed the pattern, a simple two-needle slouchy beret pattern, to the freaking letter. I didn’t miss any stitches (or add any) and my gauge was absolutely perfect. Whoever came up with this pattern must have had an abnormally large head. Like, really large. Elephantiasis-large. Either that, or their definition of the word “slouchy” differs considerably from my own.

I briefly considered other uses for this thing (bowling ball bag? giant hacky-sack?) before deciding to bite the bullet and try to fix it. This will involve ripping out about half the stitches and then trying to figure out exactly how much I need to decrease the stitch count. In principle it doesn’t sound too bad, but I’m sure I’ll suffer a headache or two before I come up with something actually wearable.

I’d consider just walking away forever if I didn’t like the colours so much. But I do, and I’m not ready to admit defeat. Admittedly the yarn isn’t anything special (just some cheap acrylic stuff), but it will make a fine hat. The colours remind me of those vintage knitted zip-up coats. (You know, the ones with the animal patterns on them, in a similar colour scheme? They look like they’re from the 1970′s, but I could be way off in that assumption. I’ve been trying to find a pattern for one, but so far I’ve turned up nothing. It might help if I knew the proper name of this style of jacket – if there even is one.) I always wanted one of those jackets. I’m willing to accept that I’ll likely never have one, if I could just have a hat that looks kind of like one.

Alas, of course it cannot be that easy.

This delicious Chilean gem hails from the Valle del Maipo (Maipo Valley), in the central area of Chile near the capital of Santiago. The producer, Santa Rita, is an old wine company that traces its origins back to 1880. Like many very large wine companies, it produces wines that range from lowly $10 generic blends to stately (and expensive) single varietals.

The Medalla Real checks in at the low end of their mid-range wines, but it’s totally a bargain. I bought my bottle for just under $20, though as I discovered it usually retails for just over this mark (for reasons I’ll discuss in a minute).

According to the back label, this Cab “is crafted from a single estate in Alto Jahuel.” One of Santa Rita’s top wines, the Casa Real, also hails from this estate – a very good sign. I often search for lower-end wines that come from the same estates/vineyards as higher-end offerings, as they are like mini versions of the really good bottles (read: cheap but damn tasty).

The Medalla Real is a “warm and fuzzy” wine, one of those reds that really warms your toes on an early spring evening. It has lots of toasty vanilla notes from its time spent aging in oak, as well as some roasted red pepper overtones. There is a hint of tar and smoke, almost reminiscent of a South African Pinotage. There’s also a little hint of menthol, which is something I wholly welcome in any Cab, as I’ve found it present in my favourite expressions of this variety (hello Coonawarra and Bordeaux Cabs). Though you won’t find much subtle elegance in the Medalla Real – it’s a classic New World, instantly-gratifying wine – but it’s still very satisfying if you’re in the mood for something with lots of upfront flavour.

As I was typing up this post and savouring the Medalla, I happened to stumble across a rather disconcerting tidbit of information. This wine was the Wine Spectator‘s #57 Wine of the Year in 2009. I’m almost mad that I like it so much. I really don’t like the Wine Dictator – er, Spectator – you see; to me it represents everything wrong with the wine industry. Unrepentantly corporate, unapologetically pro-American, smugly elitist and authored by just plain biased jerks, I have no use for the publication. It is also tragically influential and difficult to escape, as this incident clearly proves.

Nonetheless, I’m still enjoying this bottle of wine. I’m also revelling in the fact that I seem to have found one place that doesn’t pay any attention to wine industry trends – which is why I paid nearly $5 less for my bottle than I would have at a store that actually knew something about wine. The expression may be clichéd as hell, but sometimes ignorance really is bliss.