September 2004

September 30

Wilson's piece is absolutely beautiful. Richard Strange, an appropriately named actor, stands frozen in a stage frame, a tableau of icy color, and he rarely moves. His presence is remarkable, if not terrifying at times.

There are moments in which the colors and stagecraft are stunning. But everything is cool, simply cool, and the story is intellectually riveting and never striking. I'm moved throughout and never really moved.

I'm a Brecht believer and that sort of alienation is a prerequisite to learning. That was always the point of Brecht's theatre; teaching. Because Wlison's theatre is cool, I would expect that some greater understanding is gained from the show.

No such. It's simply beautiful, cool, intellectual and open-ended. I'm not going to bitch about this at all. That kind of open-ended reward may be enough to justify an evening at the theatre.

September 29

For the San Francisco production, Marianne Faithful, the legendary rock girlfriend, plays the role of the Devil. Marianne isn't simply Mick Jagger's ex-girlfriend from the 60's, nor merely the singer of a wonderful Jagger-Richard tune, “As Tears Go By”. For any proto-punk fan of the late 1970's, she came out with some important albums, and she worked with great musicians then.

And now, she continues to work with important and hip names. But that doesn't really concern me, because she is sooooo not the point of seeing this show. She's the weak part of it.

For any theatre aficionado, Robert Wilson is the real attraction here. His work is seminal theater; brilliant.

It's also calculated, ingenious and not a little cold and emotionless.

September 28

I'm not about to miss the opportunity to see Tom Waits' The Black Rider, the musical created nearly a decade ago. After being revived in New York , the same company has arrived in San Francisco to perform for ten or so weeks before heading to Sydney for a five week run.

I have my reasons for being there. Tom Waits writes and performs quintessentially American music, and can claim every bit as much ownership of that rubric as eminences grises such as Charles Ives and Aaron Copland. Sure, if you've only heard his early albums, you think I'm nuts. But if you've heard anything from the man in the last ten or fifteen years, you must agree.

Well, if that's not enough, Robert Wilson directed and created most of the show. Some of the text is by William S, Burroughs. I'm a Burroughs fanatic, lucky enough to speak to him a few times, have read everything he wrote and saw him perform publicly countless times. There have been only a few advantages to living in Kansas , and this proximity to Burroughs was one of them.

So, in my humble opinion, Burroughs' contribution doesn't mean much here.

September 27

Throughout, every bottle of wine ordered was an ordeal, every glass of water, a battle with ignorant and uncaring waiters.

Nothing could stop them from conversing near the kitchen; nothing could induce them to respond to any customer's request. And no amount of pleading would produce the check. I love restaurant service stories.

Please avoid Toni Vicente in Santiago. No one there cares as much as I do about your dinner.

September 26

I'd like to spend more time on the food, but I hate to waste a reader's time. May I suggest one dish?

It was a coffee bean, invisible within dull, crusted chocolate on a bed of duller chocolate goo. Sounds tolerable, right? Imagine a pile of lemon sorbet atop the chocolate.

Imagine it.

There ought to be a law.

September 25

The last night in Spain is amusingly punctuated by a dinner at one of the more newly famed spots in northwest Spain , Toni Vicente in Santiago. What a joke. I've begun to believe that the only sure thing in Iberian dining is that you should avoid the celebrated places; they are usually ghastly.

This was a prime example. The food was stupid; the service even worse. I started in the restaurant biz at 15 years of age; I'm partial to protecting any committed restaurateur. I could hardly claim that the chef Toni is committed. I would have to describe this evening as some of the worst service I have ever received.

I can think of steak joints in the hinterlands of the Midwest or bad chains in small town America and all of them at least cared that I received bad service. Not here.

And, as I mentioned, the food sucked. Note any writer who has raved this place (most of them are British) and immediately discount anything they have written. Indeed, assume that they are raving idiots. I do.

September 24

More Spanish notes:

Lunch at a restaurant in Pontevedre was the best food I found in Spain, and that's no small thing. Spain is the site of some of the most exciting food in the world, though it could also be called the country with the greatest hype in food. There are lots of absolutely absurd ideas that are being tricked out onto plates (see below).

Then there are places like Restaurante Marusia. It's just real food, piles of delicious, shellfish that is dripping fresh. And percebes. Oh, yes, I love percebes. I would be pretty ticked off if I went to Spain and I couldn't have anguilles or percebes.

At Marusia, I ate percebes until I could eat no more. No more percebes, that is. Instead I moved on to the various versions of crab, so many that Spain (by my rough count) has two dozen or so different words for the different kinds of crab you can suck on in Spain.

September 23

We have more wines to taste.

Les Vignes Retrouves 2003 Cotes de Saint Mont - it's a Rouge AND a Rose. Really, Mendel points at the label. Rouge and Rose.

At first, I don't care about it. But the fruit is sweeter than at first it seems. Strawberries and red raspberries, almost as warm as a fortified wine. I've always thought that the key to rose is alcoholic weight.

It's from Southwestern France , with Tannat, Pinenc and Cabernet Sauvignon. Pinenc? I have no idea what that grape is.

Early the previous morning Mendel had gone to the airport early, in pain after his Jaiyun dinner, for his 9 am flight. It's 6:45 am when he leaves for the airport. He checks in. “It's awfully early,” says the agent, “this is for a 9 pm flight.”

It blogs the mind, he says. Perhaps it does.

Sinister Hand 2003 (60% Syrah, 10% Grenache, 15% Counoise, 11% Mouverdre) and this is 14.8% alcohol. Are you kidding!?!?! This is over 14 percent alcohol??? I can't believe it. All I can taste is sweet cherry and red plum skins, thick with musky fruit, rich, sweet, balanced, long like alcohol can do. Lots of blue fruits stuffed inside a rich black cherry tart. Spice but so balanced. Liquid cherry juice with two chocolate covered cherries afloat.

September 22

“At Jaiyun, there's one waiter, who brings out the plates and clears them, mostly. A facilitator more like. The chef (Chef Nei) brings out a lobster and says, “you want?” We were all stuffed,” Mendel says, “but sure, good way to finish.”

“The waiter came out and looked at us for a moment and looked to the kitchen and asked us, “you want more?”

Jaiyun means “home”.

September 21

My friend Mendel and I are drinking lots of wines. He tells me about a San Fran spot called Jaiyun – a restaurant that serves four plates with no more than three flavors each, four more plates, then four more, twelve intro plates on a saucer. Then eight or nine dishes with platters to hold them. Bring your own wine if you want to drink, unless you want a coke from the coke machine in the back.

He was drinking Juliusspital Wurzberg Silvaner Trocken 2003 Franken. We tasted it the next night – nice fruit, refreshing, great citrus ripeness but with the bold font that is the language of Silvaner. Long, sort of. The flowers that are typical of Silvaner, ripe citrus, ripe pear notes like pearls under the tongue.

But Mendel explained that the best wine with Jaiyun's food was from Florida, a Scuppernong. Is there a Scuppernong worth drinking? Unless, it's ice cold and mixed with seven-up and vodka, can it actually be consumed? Yes, with this food. “I also brought a Riesling and a Cab Franc,” he explains, “from Jacky Blot Domaine de La Butte Bourgueil 2002”. Jacky Blot? Who the hell is Jacky Blot. Is he in a Jean-Pierre Melville gangster film or does he have a career in Hong Kong action films?

And the Scuppernong was best. With the food, that is. By itself, it was disgusting.

September 20

Poet's Leap Riesling 2003 Columbia Valley is another of the Long Shadows wines, the visiting winemaker project created by Allen Shoups. It's prettier than Eroica, and has a bit more character, which isn't saying an enormous lot. But it's still pretty short and short of mineral.

Fitz Ritter Durkheimer Abstfronhof Riesling Auslese halbtrocken 2003 Palfz – more depth, short, but shockingly delicate for a Pfalz. It retains the peach skin layered with pear skin, a touch of sweetness (guince jelly), only a touch. Nicely textured (as it should be) but very skillfully and discretely made.

The best thing about Riesling is its transparency. There is no similarly flavored wine that can express itself with such lack of hysteria. Not that there is lack of emotion.

It's just that Riesling is a brilliant mirror to any landscape; each place, each region of origin, each chunk of soil being offered enough silence to have its blemishes, warts and brilliance all speak volumes.

September 19

How about, “welcome in!” Oh, well, The food was a bit better, but food rarely tastes good when it serves by rude people. The server did his best to make up for it all, but there is no substitute for good management.

The manager was of course non-existent. He showed up later, when the hostess was pulling some tables together for a six top walk-in (I'll have to assume it was a walk-in, cuz they wouldn't have forgotten to set for this party, would they?). She dropped a fork on the ground and picked it up and moved to replace it on the table.

Then they spotted me watching. She held on to the fork and then turned her back and placed it in with the other forks in her hands. The manager glances at me and then takes all the forks from her.

Then he hands the forks to another server, without any instructions. Obviously, they are going into the silverware bin and they think I don't realize that. I wipe off all my silverware and continue eating. The food is pretty good.

September 18

There's so much more I need to write about Spain. Oh, well. Maybe later.

All restaurant service should be an act of love. Yeh, right.

I'm in Charlotte and I call Aquavina. Dress code? “Yes, business casual”.

Only business casual? I ask. Can I wear shorts?

Pause. “Sure”.

Sure? Pause. “Sure”.

Okay, great. Pause.

Alright then. Thanks.

“Sure”.

I feel so special.

Why is it so hard for restaurateurs to remember that the phone is the front door? The hostess' performance was even more exciting at my arrival. Brief happy greeting, like a Mary Kate and Ashley smile flashed to the paparazzis, then deadpan, “yes?”

I hate that yes thing.

September 17

The more I ask Telmo, the longer dinner becomes. It goes on for hours, because Telmo won't stop answering my questions. For a geek like me, this is heaven.

Telmo makes great wine. Period. He has never hurt any wine region in which he has worked, even though you can tell that he feels very vulnerable to that sort of criticism. It‘s easy to tell from his body language. And the fact that some of my colleagues are taking some minor shots at him.

He continues to move into new areas, to try more grapes and more regions, and all of his wines have integrity, show regional difference and refuse to be “international”.

September 16

Telmo Rodriguez shows up a few hours later. He's supposed to be our dinner date; he's late, dinner is late, the whole thing goes late. Telmo talks a lot. My colleagues keep saying things like “Tickle me, Telmo”.

Katrin is the sponsor of our event; she's not happy with all the talk. I can't stop asking Telmo questions; he loves to answer them. The more complicated my questions, the more he seems intrigued and ready to argue. Not in a bad way; he just wants to state his case.

I am inclined to agree with everything he says. His ideas fascinate me. He has never made a wine that contradicts his hopes for great wine in Spain . So what's the big problem?

My colleagues argue with him. They seem angry. My sponsor is angry too; she doesn't like all my questions. It just seems to her that I am making trouble. For me, it seems that I am talking to one of that handful of winemakers who I want to stay in contact with forever; he is a true believer. He is trying to make great wine and doesn't give a damn about what people think.

September 15

Dos Victorias are not blending a little Sauvignon Blanc into their Rueda. Lots of people do it and label it as Rueda Superior. That tastes fine too, but the wines made by these women are delightful. The 2002 Jose Pariente (that's their label) is delicate, has vanilla and vanilla flowers (a little bit of lees stirring? Yes), and it has remarkable concentration despite this delicacy. Lots of pear skin, some quince, unripe quince and is very long, some leaf, not lime leaf, but something like shiso leaf. Honeydew with oranges and vanilla in the finish.

They pour us the 2002 Jose Pariente barrel fermented; it shows smoke, toast and good length. But who cares? I want the taste of Verdejo, not barrels.

September 14

Dos Victorias are charming producers of charming Rueda. The two Victorias of the name produce wines of incomparable character, at least within Rueda. I love Verdejo, but I've never had Rueda this pretty, this deep and this delicious.

Victorias ' Secret was the likely name of the article I would write, because I couldn't imagine how Rueda could be this different from the other versions I had tasted. First of all, we talk about the rules there. The Consejo Regulador tasting panel, do they ever actually reject a wine? I'm smirking.

Victoria One wipes the smirk off my face. “Yes, about ten percent are rejected.” We begin focusing upon Verdejo – it smells like wild fennel, says my friend Leslie Sbrocco. I think of mustard seed.

Victoria One says, “Verdejo is the flower of wine; it's small, delicate, green, but always elegant. I don't like Sauvignon Blanc; it's too much.”

September 13

Day three of my trip to Spain finds me filling in this log for the first time. Hey, I was busy drinking. I flew into Madrid and promptly left. We were headed for the tiny town of Quintanilla de Osemino at the western fringe of Ribera del Duero. Our funky, modern hotel, Fuente de la Acena, was a converted water mill on the banks (ribera) of the Duero . And as we were in the sticks, the only place to eat was the hotel and that's the happy ending part of this story. The food was very, very good and often excellent. We had three meals there, not counting our breakfasts.

But not all was quiet in Quintanilla; just around the corner was the building where Peter Sisseck makes Pingus. It looks bombed out. We knocked on the only door that appeared to have most of its hinges but Peter was never answered. We managed to find a barrel sample of Pingus 2003 that was pretty nice (!); I think Peter took pity on our mewling.

September 12

Headed off to Spain and not to the well-known areas either. Expect dispatches (maybe not until after I return) from Toro, Rueda, Bierzo, Cigales, and Rias Baixas. No, you probably don’t care, but you should. And you will, someday soon, you will decide that Toro can make Tempranillo to stand alongside any other region. Albarino is of course tasty stuff from Rias Baixas, but Galicia (the cool, wet northwestern corner of Spain) is capable of other potables as well.

September 11

The other Merlots in this small group included Casa Lapastolle Cuvee Alexandre 1996. It was showing some youth and even some American oak. Flash to the winery – did you know that there’s some American oak in all those French oak barrels. Doh!

It was dusty and hard, like young Carignan. The oak seemed slightly unseasoned and the wine short of acid.

Pahlmeyer’s 1995 Merlot was a bit hard and hot but pleasantly gooey. Markham’s 1994 Reserve Merlot was sweet, tannic and very well-made.

September 10

The winner in this particular flight by a knockout was Andrew Will Ciel de Cheval Merlot 1999. Still youthful, gooey as a jam sandwich but well balanced, and very chocolatey at the same time. Obviously Washington Merlot. First rate.

September 9

The Clarendon Hills Merlot 1998 that followed was no easier to spot. There was a significant amount of Brett and the tannins were pretty furry, and only the gooey, juicy middle gave away that it was from Australia. And, truth be told, it was only after the wine was revealed that I decided that the gooey middle was Australian.

As they say, a look at the label is worth twenty years of tasting experience.

It wasn’t what I have hoped for and expected from Clarendon’s Merlots. But there is still time; it was young.

September 8

Another shocker – Arrowood Merlot 1994. It had a rich, cedary, Cabernet nose, lots of Cabernet laced black pepper and youthful, gingery oak aromas throughout. Very rich middle, good acids for California (or is it Washington? Nah.) and a cedary end. As you can probably ascertain from my notes, I thought it was top-flight California Cabernet with a little Merlot mixed in. Okay, I didn’t spot any Merlot, now are you happy?

September 7

And a shocker in the taster - 1986 Domaine du Cayron Gigondas. The wine rich and nutty, even confectionary; it showed age but who cares with this kind of richness and seductive fruit? It was like black raspberry jelly.

This is the second time (see the August 20 notes) I’ve been flabbergasted by this wine. I have to say that it’s only an accident that I own any at all at this late date. I gave up on it a few years ago and now it turns out that I was wrong. Or the bottles were wrong. Or those bottles were different. Damn. I have no idea.

That’s why I like wine; it proves me wrong all the time.

September 6

Cru de Coudulet 1988 – I love bringing wines like this to my tastings. No one even gets close most of the time. This was tiring but not tired, earthy but not Bretty, fruity but not young, aged but still fruity.

On the other hand, it was past time to drink it.

September 5

Gentaz Dervieux was one of the gods of Syrah; it shocks me how few understand that. Marius Gentaz Dervieux was a sweetheart of a guy to visit; very generous, very humble, fantastic wines.

So, I was a bit bummed to taste this and get so much Brettanomyces from it. Well, it wasn’t over the top but Bob Parker would like it more than me. No sin in that, I suppose. But I’m ready to part with the rest of my 1987 Gentaz bottles, except that he did bottle by the barrel back then, so maybe the others are okay....

September 4

A few older Rhones ( including the 1987 Jasmin Cote Roties) from the basement: let's start with the Robert Jasmin. There were some very pretty vanilla notes as well as sour cherries and some stems (it is old Syrah, after all, from a decent but average vintage). In the mouth, the vanilla seemed to grow into smoke and toasted nuts, it retained the lovely raspberry/strawberry flavors of northern Rhone Syrah but it was a bit short. I kept arguing with myself over whether it was short or generous. It was both.

September 3

The Weil is youthful of course. However it has nothing like the sulfur levels of a J.J. Prum or other spectacular (while youthful) Mosel wines. Mosel is lower in alcohol and a touch more sulfur can be helpful in allowing the wine to live its expected ten to twenty years of age.

The wine was already complex, but the overwhelming note was of peach skins; clean, perfect, but varied in ripeness. Some of those flavors were underripe too, but in a good way. There were citrus notes and a powerfully orange middle and at the end, honey and botrytis notes. This is exceedingly complex wine that will need decades to show all that is inside.

September 2

Robert Weil Keidricher Grafenberg Erstes Gewachs 2003 – you know about the whole Erstes Gewachs (First Growth) thing, right? The historically significant wine regions of Germany have come up with terminology with which to laud certain historically significant vineyards. In the Rheingau, it’s Erstes Gewachs. The other regions are working with Grosses Gewachs (Great Growths) and the like, but don’t get too worked up about it yet.

The bottom line is that each region sets its own standards for these terms. In the Rheingau, one of the two most important regions for great wine in Germany (my apologies to all the other areas but, come on, the Mosel and the Rheingau have ten times more great wine than the other areas), the idea is to make a dry wine from one of the critically acclaimed vineyards. In these regions we’re talking about five to ten centuries of continuous greatness; that’s great in my view.

September 1

Domaine des Baumard Savennieres Clos du Papillon 1993 – let’s break it down like a rhyme; it’s Chenin, it ain’t pretendin’ to be nothing like a Chard, it tastes hard, like a red wine, but it’s white; if it’s young, then it’s tight, you gotta rest it, then you test it. Like the nineties, it should be history. But like a kind of tease, it’s more a mystery. Think Halle Berry, it’s still so young.

I’ll stop; my apologies, I was listening to De La Soul and got carried away.

1993 still needs time. Stick that in your barrel and toast it. It’s still youthful and just beginning to show the outrageous amount of earth it has inside the apple and citrus fruit. Still, part of our group didn’t like it that much because it was too tart and too earthy. So’s your ol’ lady.