Putnam Weekley
putnam
The snow storm kept us in, so I summoned neighbors Steve and Angie to help Anne and I drink the remains of my cellar. I was hungry for chile rellenos.
While I roasted the poblano peppers over the stove we drank the 2007 Muscadet produced by Domaine Pepiere. It is a wine impossible for me to tire of drinking, clear and intense, clasped with stone, humorous and menacing.
As fast as the Muscadet was consumed, we had time for another pre-meal pour. A bottle of NV Vouvray Brut from Francois Pinon's farm had lingered for years in local stocks for just this moment. Its flavors cast a more serious mood over the room, suggesting to me images of knotty root bundles cooled under forest while clutching some paleolith belonging to an extinct race of giants. I tried to read its features, but I was distracted by the conversation which kept returning to tabloid fare: carnivorous chimps, outrageous tales of family abuse, that sort of thing. On the top of the fruity, herbal flavor arrangement there was something I interpreted to be a somber and solid grip on stores of apple honey.
It tasted good with salsa, guacamole and pico de gallo.
After I peeled and seeded the chiles, they were stuffed with single chunks of quesedilla cheese and bulk chorizo from from Honeybee/La Colmena. This was then dipped in egg froth and fried in a large iron skillet.
There is only one wine I know of to serve with this dish.
2007 Les Heretiques has the generous and pure fruit to make it a happy wash for a palate after spicy, fairly rich food like this. But the real magic happens somewhere between the vegetal flavors of the roasted chile and the slightly leafy phenolics of the wine. I could eat and drink this way happily forever.
After dinner called for something to contemplate. Anne had been preparing to open a lone bottle of 1998 white Hermitage, so she opened it.
It was viscous and reflecting all the available amber light in the room. It smelled like pear skins and mashed almonds and it's texture was very supple and easy. It was very good and I don't think we drank it too soon.
Naturally, four bottles of wine just aren't enough for four of us over a span of several hours. So, as the wine waiter, I found myself in a difficult position. What did I have that would comfortably follow the Hermitage?
That's a 2004 Anjou La Lune from Mark Angeli's Sansonniere farm. (Forgive me if I spell it incorrectly.) My introduction to this wine came with the 2003 vintage which I believe won some sort of award for wackiness (La "Loony"?) The 2004 is not at all wacky to my taste. It has evolved in color to about exactly where the Hermitage was and the flavors and textures followed it seamlessly. I was surprised, I still am, at how similar the two wines tasted. Naturally, this had its facial features of bitter green stone that one associates with the Chenin variety. Or maybe they were nothing alike and I was just oblivious by this point. I am certain it was delicious and I hope to buy another bottle at Cloverleaf, maybe tomorrow.
A belly rub is always welcome.
As the night wound on I looked for more wine, and while we tried to make the transition to young red Burgundy (2007 Cuvee Gravel from Catherine and Claude Marechal) it was a wine for another time of day entirely. The snappy berry resin was too much of an abstraction by this time. It will be difficult to do this another time without a large infusion of inventory ...
Aha. The gentlemen will have a taste of liquor. Why not. No one is driving a car and the conversation is still good. This is a Russian vodka with an infusion of Siberian pine nuts. According to Google, the label reads "infusion bitter - cedar - standard of good taste." Does Wine Disorder recognize cyrillic? Сибирский кедр. Cool. It was delicious and, well, nutty, in a very dark and bitter way, like regular pine nut crossed with walnut.
NEXT MORNING
I get up and realize it's been more than a decade since I've had bagels from New York Bagel in Ferndale. As I my door to drive to get the bagels I see the sun coming up over my neighbor's back hoe.
Everything about the place is the same - the oven you can see behind the counter area, the jars of pickled herring and packages of cream cheese and lox - everything except for one thing. There's no long lineup to give your order. Is it the economy? I think maybe I just arrived too early for the rush. Now that I think about it, we used to get here closer to noon on a Sunday, when the rest of the lazy Ferndalers would all converge on the place. Or maybe the economy is keeping people away.
I love these bagels because they have not changed. Apparently some people think bagels should be gargantuan balls of dough with a closed pucker where a hole should be. I prefer the smaller size for a practical reason too. It makes it possible to sample a greater variety, from garlic to onion to parmesan to rye, even raisin and salt stix. They're all good.
There is only one wine I know of to serve with this dish.
Naturally, four bottles of wine just aren't enough for four of us over a span of several hours. So, as the wine waiter, I found myself in a difficult position. What did I have that would comfortably follow the Hermitage?
As the night wound on I looked for more wine, and while we tried to make the transition to young red Burgundy (2007 Cuvee Gravel from Catherine and Claude Marechal) it was a wine for another time of day entirely. The snappy berry resin was too much of an abstraction by this time. It will be difficult to do this another time without a large infusion of inventory ...
NEXT MORNING