On the slopes, there wasn’t a day when the sun wasn’t shining.  This was great for tanning on the terrace with a cup of vin chaud, but it also meant that the snow was melting, the slopes were icy, and, yes, I quickly ended up with a sprained wrist… but this didn’t prevent me from eating.

Snow was not the only thing melting in the Haute-Savoie this week.  In French fondre means “to melt,” which is the origin of fondue.  While there are many different versions of fondue, fondue savoyarde is a longtime favorite.  After all, how can a pot, or caquelon as they call it, filled with melted cheese and white wine be a bad thing?  The village of Châtel is filled with numerous restaurants serving this specialty, which is a mixture of hard and semi soft cheeses (often composed of beaufort, gruyère, and emmetal) melted with a dry white wine in a large ceramic pot prepared by rubbing a garlic clove.

Eating fondue is a communal ritual.  One large caquelon is placed in the middle of the table, and each person takes a turn dipping in a stale piece of bread with a long thin fork.  But, be careful!  If you drop your bread in the pot, you’ll either be faced with kissing or neighbor or accepting a dare, often resulting in the removal of clothing.

This past week, I worked with these two women as an intern in the lab that they have established just outside of Puy-Notre-Dame, a small village that is famous for its beautiful cathedral.  While Nathalie and Isabelle spend much of their time in the lab working on the samples the winemakers have brought them, a large part of the job is also going to the vineyards, studying the vines, and visiting the chai (wine or barrel shed) that might be the root of problem.

During my week working in the lab, we saw quite a few interesting problems.  There was a Coteaux de Layon (a sweet white wine) that smelled intensely of mold, a Saumur Rouge that smelled of reduction, and another that smelled of oxidation.  The goal of the oenologue is to help the winemaker find a solution to better his or her wines.  Sometimes the solution can be simple, such as blending the wines, while at other times it might call for a more extensive measure, such as ThermoFlash, that heats the wine in a very precise manner as to prevent or cure microbiological flora in the wines.

In addition to visiting the vineyards and working in the lab, we also participated in a wine tasting for the pre-selection of the Concours Général Agricole 2010.  This competition selects the best agricultural products to be later presented in Paris.  We tasted and judged 19 créments de la Loire (sparkling wines), which is no easy task at ten in the morning.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Omar Khaggam of Egypt

Winemaking is nothing new to Egypt.  In fact, the wine of Egypt dates back to pre-historic times (2600 BCE) and is documented in many ancient artifacts.  And, while the grape vine does not originate from Egypt, it was during the time of the pharaohs that the winemaking process and ingredients where first documented.  Today, Egypt produces around half a million gallons of wine a year, which is a noteworthy amount considering the large Muslim (non-alcohol drinking) population, and not to mention its bad reputation.  The three major producers are Château des Reves, Obelisk, and Gianaclis.  The latter is owned by Heineken and produces the label Omar Khaggam, which is named after the Persian mathematician and philosopher who said, “Drink wine.  This is life eternal.”

The Omar Khaggam we drank was 100% Cabernet Sauvignon, and, at first, had the characteristics that you would expect from a cab.  The color was a medium ruby red, and the aromas were that of red berries and prunes.  In the mouth, the wine is round, velvety, and very fruity, but lacking in tannins and structure.  The finish was weak with a slight metal taint.

Kanonkop Kadette of South Africa

While I probably wouldn’t go out of my way to find another bottle of Omar Khaggam, I would certainly make the effort for the Kanonkop Kadette 2006 of South Africa.  This bottle was truly a great find.

Kanonkop is a family estate located on the lower slopes of the Simonsberg Mountain in the Stellenbosch Region of the Cape, an area otherwise known as the “red wine bowl” of South Africa.  The wine is a blend made from Pinotage (39%), Cabernet Sauvignon (32%), Merlot (20%), and Cabernet Franc (9%).  This gives a luscious full-bodied, dry red wine that is well balanced, with nice acidity, delicate tannins, and a fruity velvety linger.  There was a nice finish with a touch of spice.  This is a sophisticated and eloquent wine that is also a great buy at just 10 euros a bottle.

]]> http://simmerandsip.com/2009/11/16/an-introduction-to-african-wines/feed/ 1 simmerandsip Kanonkop Kadette http://simmerandsip.com/2009/11/08/daring-to-sell-new-world-wines-in-france/ http://simmerandsip.com/2009/11/08/daring-to-sell-new-world-wines-in-france/#comments Sun, 08 Nov 2009 21:17:10 +0000 simmerandsip http://simmerandsip.com/?p=294 ]]> Comptoir des Andes & du Nouveau Monde

France is certainly not lacking in wine shops, or caves à vins as they are called.  In fact, you’ll easily find one in the smallest of villages and on almost every street in the larger cities.  But if you go into most French wine shops and ask for a South African Pinotage or an Argentinean Malbec, more likely than not you’ll be out of luck.  It’s no wonder since France is the second largest producer of wine (just behind Italy) and you certainly don’t have to go far to find an astonishing diversity of grape varieties and wines.  The French are also notoriously proud of their wines.  There is, however, a growing awareness of New World wines, and an acknowledgment that some of it is actually really good.  And, while it is still difficult to find New World wines, there is a cave à vins in Paris that specializes in just that.  In fact, you won’t find a single bottle of French wine in the shop.

Comptoir des Andes & du Nouveau Monde is the only place in Paris, and in France, that dares to sell only New World wines.  You can choose from among 250 wines that have been carefully selected and represent such countries as Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Chili, and the United States.  If you’re not sure what to buy, the staff is very helpful and offers free wine tastings on Saturday.  The wines are also very reasonably priced, with a large selection of bottles for less than 10 euros.  I picked up a bottle of Kanonkop Kadette 2006 (South Africa) that I can’t wait to open.

Comptoir des Andes & du Nouveau Monde 19, rue Delambre 75014 Paris

A couple of weeks ago, I was given a wonderful gift – a big pumpkin that was slightly lopsided, but beautiful nonetheless.  It came from my friend’s garden in the heart of the French countryside, and, as soon as I saw it, I knew that it would make a delicious pumpkin soup…especially with the approaching cold weather.

Around the time that I was given the pumpkin, I also found a little Asian store in the outskirts of Blois.  The store is rather hidden and is located in the seedy part of town, but I was thrilled to find it since the Asian sections of most French supermarkets are lacking to say the least (and very expensive).  I bought a bag of garam masala (a basic blend of Indian spices) and a can of coconut milk.  So there I was, standing in the kitchen with a pumpkin, a bag of garam masala, and a can of coconut milk…oh, and a left-over bottle of rum.

I began by roasting the pumpkin in the oven with olive oil, and ended up with a delightful bisque that was hearty and creamy with a nice balance of sweet and salty.  The caramelized onions and rum add complexity to the flavor, and the coconut milk adds cream without being too rich.

The creamy French bisques that are pureed until smooth and cooked with cognac or wine inspired this recipe.  “Bisque” is thought to come from the word Biscay, as in the Bay of Biscay that runs along the western coast of France.  It is also possible, however, that it comes from the word Bis Cuites, meaning “twice cooked.”   Since most traditional bisques are seafood based either explanation would work.  The western coast of France is filled with fresh seafood that is first sautéed in their shells before being simmered and pureed.  This bisque, however, is not traditional.  It is vegetable based and, thanks to the coconut milk, completely vegan.  Instead of cognac or wine I used rum, and the garam masala gives it an exotic Indian taste…perfect for a chilly autumn evening.

1. In a large pot, sauté the onion with the olive oil and cane sugar over medium heat.  Once the onion begins to brown, reduce the heat and add the rum and garlic.  Sauté for a minute longer.

2. Add the chopped potato, carrot, and apple, and sauté with the onion mixture for about 5 minutes.  Add the pumpkin puree and water.  Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.

3. In a saucepan mix ½ cup coconut milk with the garam masala, cinnamon, and cumin.  Cook over low heat for 1 minute.  Add the remaining cup of coconut milk.

4. Add the spiced coconut milk mixture to the vegetable mixture and allow to simmer for another 45 minutes.  With a blender or hand mixer, puree the bisque until smooth.  Season with salt.

5. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil.

*To make the roasted pumpkin puree: Wash the pumpkin, cut into forths, and remove the seeds.  Lather the inside with olive oil, place on a baking sheet, and cover with foil.  Bake in a pre-heated oven (400 degrees F) for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until soft.

Before I knew it, my fingers were completely black, but that didn’t stop me from peeling back the burnt shells from the chestnuts to reveal their tender and steamy inside.  I had never eating chestnuts in such a way – straight from a roaring fire, tended by a retired winemaker and his sommelier grandson.  There is certainly an art to roasting chestnuts, but unfortunately the old tradition of roasting chestnuts or châtaignes on an open fire is slowly being lost in France to more conventional methods.  But here, in the small village of Chitenay in the Loire Valley, the tradition is being passed onto current generations who seem to understand the symbolic importance of such traditions.  The tradition of roasting chestnuts is a celebration of completing the fall grape harvest or vendanges.

The most important part of this tradition (perhaps even more important than the chestnuts themselves) is to drink bernache.  Bernache is partially fermented must, or rather it’s a drink that is in-between grape juice and wine.  The grape juice has only been allowed to ferment for a few days, meaning that it is very sweet, with a slight yeast taste, and mild effervescence.  Served chilled, it is a great compliment to the extremely hot chestnuts.  Both the chestnuts and the bernache come directly from the region.  The grapes are picked and pressed by the winemakers of Mont-près-Chambord, and the chestnuts themselves are gathered by hand from the surrounding forests.  Even the fire is made from vine branches that are gathered from the vineyards.

The chestnuts are then roasted directly on the flames in an iron pan with holes in the bottom and a long handle.  The skins quickly turned into charcoal, but the insides remained tender and sweet.  It takes less then five minutes for them to cook on the fire before being transferred to a metal pot, covered with a tea-towel and the lid, where they finish steaming in their own heat.

More important than the food or the drink, however, is the act of coming together as a family and a village.  By then end of the night, the long table in the middle of the room was covered with burnt chestnuts shells and drops of bernache that splashed over the rims of the glasses as cheers were being said for another successful harvest.

When I first arrived at the vineyard, the strong smell of must was in the air.  The must or moût, as the French call it, is the grape juice that has not yet started fermentation.  Some of the grapes were in the middle of being pressed, leaving a big pile of grape skins and stems on the flour that will later be used to fertilize the soil.  Most of the grapes have already been harvested and the fermentation process is well underway; however, the remaining grapes will produce a late-harvest dessert wine or vin moelleux.

The wines

The tasting began with the 2008 Cour Cheverny “Old Vines” (100 percent Romorantin), which is an aromatic and dry white wine.  It is delicate and crisp with citrus notes and a touch of honey.  As a comparison, I tasted the 2007 vintage, which had stronger honey aromas, was slightly buttery, and fuller in the mouth.  It was truly a delight.  Benoît expained that the 2008 is still young, but within a few years it will taste more like the 2007.  Traditionally, the wine pairs wonderfully with the fish and goat cheeses of the Loire Valley, however, it would also be great with spicy exotic dishes.

The vineyard also produces a late-harvest wine that is made from the Romorantin grape.  The Cour Cheverny – Cuvée Tardive is velvety and soft with nice balance.  It would be a great compliment for foie gras, blue cheese, and, of course, dessert.

Benoît Daridan also produces some nice red wines; although I was much more keen on the whites, with one exception.  He gave me a taste of one of his experimental wines, a 100 percent Cabernet Sauvignon.  Unfortunately, he cannot sell this wine under the Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée regulations that requires the addition of Gamay.  His Cabernet was full-bodied, very aromatic, with prune, raspberry, and blackberry flavors.  It was well structured with nice tannins and almost reminded me of a California Cabernet.  It was truly a great surprise.