January 21, 2010
My fascination with pintxos (PEEN-chos) began back in college when I convinced my sociology professor that Basque immigrants maintain their identity thanks to a little slice of meat or cheese placed on a slice of bread and stuck together with a toothpick. It was a far fetched idea at the time, but after weeks of researching Basque food and culture, both in Basque country and around the world, I was convinced… and so was my professor (at least I hope). I wrote a 20-page term paper about Basque food and identity, and after having read about the delicious flavors, the bar hopping, and the people, I was persuaded that I must to go to Basque country.
I finally found myself in San Sebastian, right in the heart of Basque gastronomy, over the winter holidays. My little pension that I stayed in was right across from numerous bars that all served their versions of pintxos. Traditionally pintxos are slices of bread served with some sort of delicious topping, and stuck together with a toothpick (they’re kind of like the French canapé except bigger and with a stick). They are then placed on the bar with little labels describing their topping. They are generally consumed by gangs of friends partaking in a daily pub crawl or txikiteo, and who respect the honor system by paying for their consumation based on the pile of dirty toothpicks they’ve created. The pintxos I saw (and ate) went from basic Basque cheeses and hams, to slices of Spanish tortillas (a sort of egg and potato omelette) and stuffed bell peppers, to deep fried seafood.
And, of course, you can’t forget about the drinks – served in little glasses to match the miniature-sized food. Basque country is known for it’s cider which is refreshing and crisp, but a little sour. I tried the Saizar sidre, as well as a basic white wine called txakoli, which is also crisp and slighting effervescent.
December 17, 2009
During the past couple of weeks, signs advertising vin chaud have been popping up all over France. In the local cafés, vin chaud is written in chalk on the “specials” board, and the vendors at the many celebrated Christmas Markets are prepared to warm up the crowds with their versions of vin chaud. While many countries have their form of mulled wine, in France it’s vin chaud, which literally means “hot wine.” Drinking a glass of vin chaud is sure to warm you up on the coldest of days, but it is also extremely easy to make yourself.
People began making vin chaud as a way of saving wine that had gone bad. By adding sugar and spices, the wine was again drinkable. This doesn’t mean, however, that you should reach for the half bottle of red wine that’s been sitting out for a few weeks. You can make vin chaud from almost any type of red wine (Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Beaujolais Nouveau). Be careful not to boil the wine, and be sure to serve with a slice of orange. Vin chaud is also a great accompaniment for pain d’épices, a French spice cake that is similar to gingerbread.
Ingredients
1 bottle of red wine
2 tablespoons unrefined cane sugar (cassonade)
1 cinnamon stick
4 whole cloves
zest of 1 orange
zest of 1 lemon
1. Combine the above ingredients in a large pot and slowly bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat and let simmer for 20 minutes. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for another 10 minutes.
2. Pass the mulled wine through a sieve, and serve with a slice of orange.
November 27, 2009
It’s that time of the year again. The streets in France are filled with signs proclaiming, “Le Beaujolais Nouveau est arrive!” But I must admit that, despite all of the excitement, I’ve never before taken the Beaujolais Nouveau very seriously. After all, I can list numerous other wines that I would rather be drinking. This year, however, since I’m in France, I decided to partake in the fan-fair. In doing so, I’ve discovered more than just a wine…I’ve discovered an important ritual.
I’ve always wondered why watery beer, that I usually try to avoid, always tastes good at baseball games. Or, how cold pizza tastes good in the morning, but in the evening it must be heated up. For me, eating and drinking isn’t always about the food or the drink, but more about the ritual. And when it comes to the Beaujolais Nouveau, it’s more about the tradition than anything else.
Beaujolais Nouveau is a French wine produced in the Beaujolais region of Burgundy from the Gamay grape. It is released the third Thursday of November when the wine is just a mere six weeks old. Thus the word “Nouveau”, meaning “new.” It is then quickly distributed throughout the world (not a second before midnight) where it is met with eager anticipation. The wine is virtually tannin-free, fruity, light-bodied, and extremely easy to drink. Nobody I know takes this wine seriously, but almost everyone I know buys a bottle (or two).
The tradition of drinking Beaujolais Nouveau is similar to that of drinking Bernache (see Burnt Nuts and Partially Fermented Grape Juice), the partially fermented wine symbolizes the end of the harvest season. Beaujolais Nouveau is the next step in the cyclical calendar of wine drinking. While the wine is nothing extraordinary, drinking it symbolizes the new vintage; however, it also has an effect on the consumer. The act of drinking Beaujolais Nouveau forces us to distinguish this year from last year, not only in regards to the wine, but in regards to our personal life as well. It is also a social ritual since we all drink the wine at the same time of the year. Even though we don’t know the other consumers, we are aware of their existence, thus making them a part of our imagined community of fellow wine drinkers. So even though we don’t really like the wine, we take pleasure in drinking it, just like the watery beers at baseball games. This little bottle creates a link between wine drinkers throughout the world, and, since it is one of the most affordable wines, no one is left out.
My fascination with pintxos (PEEN-chos) began back in college when I convinced my sociology professor that Basque immigrants maintain their identity thanks to a little slice of meat or cheese placed on a slice of bread and stuck together with a toothpick. It was a far fetched idea at the time, but after weeks of researching Basque food and culture, both in Basque country and around the world, I was convinced… and so was my professor (at least I hope). I wrote a 20-page term paper about Basque food and identity, and after having read about the delicious flavors, the bar hopping, and the people, I was persuaded that I must to go to Basque country.
