You've got to get busy inviting by noon if you want me to join you.
So when a favorite sax players messaged at 12:16 suggesting, "Hey, I just had an idea for people interested. Go up early for wine tasting, dinner and then show. It's Charlottesville appreciation day!" he'd missed me by about fourteen minutes.
I'd been invited to go to Charlottesville to see Lake Street Dive, a band I've twice seen at Balliceaux for five bucks and one which is just now hitting the big time (see: recent Colbert Report appearance), back in December by someone who had caught a couple of their songs at a festival a few years back and been itching to see them again ever since.
Fast forward to the day of the show and Facebook is lighting up with Richmond friends who are also planning to go to the show.
But since I was picked up at noon, I didn't see the sax player's suggestion for making an all-day event of it until I got back.
As it happened, his bright idea pretty much mirrored what we'd planned for occupying ourselves pre-show. As in, great minds think alike.
We began at Barboursville winery for lunch at Palladio where I was tickled to see the restaurant windows open to the blue skies and warm air outside.
Fittingly, the meal began with Barboursville's Brut Cuvee 1814 as we noshed on herb focaccia and waded through the wordy menu to choose which three courses we each wanted.
Given the beautiful day, I imagined myself at a seaside cafe come summertime, opting for crispy shrimp, lobster, oysters, calamari, rockfish and lemon slices (yes, also crispy) with a rich saffron chive aioli worthy of the delicately battered frittura di mare and made all the better with a pairing of Vintage Rose 2012.
Ah, seafood and pink wine, is there a faster way to reduce me to a grinning fool?
My devotion to swine would not be ignored, necessitating my first course be housemade spicy Italian sausage, white bean and escarole soup even though it wasn't really a soup day, but the fancy pork and beans was stellar with the Chardonnay Reserve 2012.
Since our reservation had been for 1:30, by this point in our meal, other tables were beginning to empty so we asked our server to hold off on the next course so we could take a short stroll and finish our Chardonnay along the way.
His only admonishment was not to leave the property, hardly likely since we had more food and drink on the way.
But you can only admire sweeping vistas and rolling hills for so long once your glass is drained, so we strolled back to our table for our final course.
Returning to my warm weather theme, my last course was seared Rock Mountain trout filet with apple chestnut hash, parsnip puree and sage brown butter sauce complemented by the Viognier Reserve 2012 and enjoyed down to the last bite.
In theory, a cheese plate would have been a divine finish, but neither of us had room enough at that point, so we demurred when our server asked. He then suggested we go next door to the tasting room for the complimentary tasting that comes with lunch at Palladio, a fine idea, we concluded.
Except that it wasn't because the tasting room was crowded with winery hoppers out on a gorgeous day, and since we had just tasted through four of the wines anyway, instead we got a bottle of the Viognier Reserve 2012 and headed up the hill to the Barboursville ruins.
Nothing like a little archeology with your afternoon grape, I always (wanted to) say.
Since I'd last been to the ruins, scaffolding had gone up as if they were shoring up the old chimneys deigned by T.J. One thing I was sure of, it would have been a magnificent view from up there.
But our place was on the ground. Piles of snow lingered in shadowy spots, but we took a blanket and found a sunny meadow with a view of a white clapboard church in the distance, a red outbuilding and a ring of trees surrounding us while we enjoyed the juicy wine that further reinforced my summer theme with aromas of peach.
And just like that, the afternoon was gone and it was on to Charlotteville.
After a nosh at Bijou (I'm not ashamed to say I kept it to a bleu cheese salad with candied walnuts and blueberry vinaigrette followed by a copious chocolate mousse) we made our way down the mall to the Jefferson Theater and a rapidly gathering sold out crowd.
This is when I go into standard operating procedure for shows: procure Espolon and take up residence in front of the sound booth where it not only sounds the best but I can be assured of not being knocked from behind, a peril of being short.
From that vantage point, I spotted the sax player surrounded by friends, the restaurant owner who never stops talking at shows and the guy I run into at lectures and shows all the time.
So Richmond was representing nicely.
Opening was the Congress, a quartet who clearly worshiped at the altar of jam bands, blending blues and southern rock, covering "People Get Ready," which pleased me and Van the Man's "Into the Mystic," to the great delight of the crowd, especially the Boomers present.
During the break, the crowd grew hugely and when the canned music went to "What's New, Pussycat?" Lake Street Dive finally took the stage.
Singer and front woman Rachel looked fabulous in a fitted-waist '50s style dress with a full skirt with which she could swing and sashay to great effect.
From the Balliceaux shows, I'd recalled her jazz vocal stylings, but in the nearly two years since I'd seen them, she's clearly come into her own, adding an even more dynamic presence to her already impressive voice.
And the band! I remembered the female upright bass player (from Iowa City, Iowa, no less), the guitarist/trumpet player who'd gotten his new glasses just before I'd last seen him and the talented singing drummer.
Actually, all three sang backing vocals, making for some impressive harmonies on almost every song.
Introducing "Another song about Bobby," Rachel explained, "Some people you can't stop writing about." Tells you everything you need to know about Bobby, doesn't it?
Or is it just me who finds romance in writing?
She sang "Seventeen" about wishing she'd met a certain someone when she was younger, about being wasted in her parents' basement, the new "Use Me Up" and "Bad Self Portraits," the title song off the album that just came out this month.
The Congress were called back onstage to join them to cover McCartney's "Let Me Roll It," which they'd done Congress-less last time I'd seen them, but it sounded fresh with the additional voices and it's a song I love anyway.
I was thrilled they did "You Go Down Smooth," a song they'd done when I last heard them, long before this album came out and one that had been memorable even as they apologized for its newness then.
When they left the stage, we all knew they were coming back and I felt pretty sure it would be to cover "Rich Girl," which they did, to the ecstasies of the crowd.
Then the canned music kicked back to "What's New, Pussycat?" and we spilled out onto the downtown mall in the cold night air, everyone raving about the show.
The sax player was dead on. Hell of a Charlottesville appreciation day, even if I didn't join the group field trip.
Sometimes you want to fill up your dance card and sometimes you don't.
Showing posts with label barboursville winery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barboursville winery. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Monday, August 5, 2013
What Dogs Promise
It was an all day affair, given the perfect weather and company.
Take a drive out 250 and stop where we want to.
There was Keswick Vineyards under an umbrella on an impossibly beautiful afternoon.
After tasting through eight wines and discussing our pourer's beagles, Molly and Tuck, we settled in for glasses of the 2012 Viognier, acidic with great length on the palate and layers of pear and apricot.
Dogs were everywhere at the winery, including a sad-faced hound from the Fluvanna SPCA, to whom I gave much love and hopes for a loving family.
I had to laugh at the woman telling her dog, "Remember what you promised!"
To be honest, he didn't look like he'd promised anything.
There was the Barbecue Exchange for brisket, pulled pork, hushpuppies and fries, where I met the man in charge of the 'cue, Van.
"You like tofu?" he asked after our discussion of his pig and cow. Do I look like I like tofu?
His meat was enjoyed at a table on the porch of the Exchange Hotel.
It wasn't my first time at the Exchange, although last time was inside to meet the resident ghost and today was solely for shade during lunch.
Yes, the same hotel where women used to sell fried chicken to the soldiers on the trains passing through Gordonsville.
And, yes, a train passed by and, no, I had no fried chicken to sell.
At Barboursville Vineyard, it was an oversized orange beach towel under a shady tree for a bottle of Vermentino Reserve 2012, dry and with a nice minerality.
Around us, people boringly discussed politics, a couple looked at their phones rather than each other and children rolled down the hill, one landing against my wine glass, which fortunately, I was holding tight.
The endless parade of new arrivals provided more than enough fodder for conversation as we sipped.
Really, platform shoes for winery hopping?
There was a stroll on the downtown mall to decide on a dinner location with Petit Pois the winner because they had outdoor tables and moules.
Add to the mussels a bottle of Virginia Fizz, a plate of fromage and tartare de boeuf, and you've got a recipe for several hours' pleasure.
Dogs slept while tables filled up and we marveled at the briskness of a Sunday night's business on the mall.
Couldn't help hoping that Richmond restaurants were just as busy tonight.
I ran into the delightful musician Guion of the Nettles, on his turf for a change, and heard about his recent adventures with outdoor pizza.
Then there was a stroll through a nearby neighborhood, admiring elaborate porches, hidden gardens and running into a familiar face from Richmond, out walking his dog.
Twelve hours and some mighty fine conversation later, I'd start all over and do it again.
Ready when my ride is.
Take a drive out 250 and stop where we want to.
There was Keswick Vineyards under an umbrella on an impossibly beautiful afternoon.
After tasting through eight wines and discussing our pourer's beagles, Molly and Tuck, we settled in for glasses of the 2012 Viognier, acidic with great length on the palate and layers of pear and apricot.
Dogs were everywhere at the winery, including a sad-faced hound from the Fluvanna SPCA, to whom I gave much love and hopes for a loving family.
I had to laugh at the woman telling her dog, "Remember what you promised!"
To be honest, he didn't look like he'd promised anything.
There was the Barbecue Exchange for brisket, pulled pork, hushpuppies and fries, where I met the man in charge of the 'cue, Van.
"You like tofu?" he asked after our discussion of his pig and cow. Do I look like I like tofu?
His meat was enjoyed at a table on the porch of the Exchange Hotel.
It wasn't my first time at the Exchange, although last time was inside to meet the resident ghost and today was solely for shade during lunch.
Yes, the same hotel where women used to sell fried chicken to the soldiers on the trains passing through Gordonsville.
And, yes, a train passed by and, no, I had no fried chicken to sell.
At Barboursville Vineyard, it was an oversized orange beach towel under a shady tree for a bottle of Vermentino Reserve 2012, dry and with a nice minerality.
Around us, people boringly discussed politics, a couple looked at their phones rather than each other and children rolled down the hill, one landing against my wine glass, which fortunately, I was holding tight.
The endless parade of new arrivals provided more than enough fodder for conversation as we sipped.
Really, platform shoes for winery hopping?
There was a stroll on the downtown mall to decide on a dinner location with Petit Pois the winner because they had outdoor tables and moules.
Add to the mussels a bottle of Virginia Fizz, a plate of fromage and tartare de boeuf, and you've got a recipe for several hours' pleasure.
Dogs slept while tables filled up and we marveled at the briskness of a Sunday night's business on the mall.
Couldn't help hoping that Richmond restaurants were just as busy tonight.
I ran into the delightful musician Guion of the Nettles, on his turf for a change, and heard about his recent adventures with outdoor pizza.
Then there was a stroll through a nearby neighborhood, admiring elaborate porches, hidden gardens and running into a familiar face from Richmond, out walking his dog.
Twelve hours and some mighty fine conversation later, I'd start all over and do it again.
Ready when my ride is.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Chocolate Cheese and Empty Tombs
Give me a reason for a road trip and a new CD and I'm in heaven.
Today I put the pedal to the floor and headed east to Hague, a place I hadn't heard of, but one which is home to three wineries.
Conveniently, I had an assignment to wrote about all three.
Given the sunny skies and open fields, it was an easy drive despite being unfamiliar territory.
Listening to Twin Shadow's "Confess" and passing rural statements like a church sign saying, "Easter surprise! The tomb is empty!" and a gas station marquee with "Come on, Spring!" made for a most pleasurable hour and a half cruise.
My first stop was the Hague Winery where the owner poured for me and told me about all the interesting places to eat and drink in the neighborhood.
I learned about chardonel, a hybrid varietal with which I was not familiar, tasted the 2009 Merlot along with some Old Church Creamery chocolate cheese (yep, that's what it was alright) and a luscious Meritage reserve I'd have bought a case of if I could have afforded it.
Other visitors came in and joined in the conversation about nearby wineries and what there is to do in the area.
One couple from upstate New York was staying at Westmoreland State Park and making a day of winery hopping.
Another came in and didn't bother with a tasting, cutting right to full glasses and a table with a view.
After chatting for a while, the owner offered to show me their guest house, a place they rent out for visitors.
The 19th century building had been converted to a charming space for a 2-4 and, as I pointed out, you can't go wrong with a winery on the premises.
As I was getting ready to leave, one of the couples asked for directions to General's Ridge Winery a few miles away, coincidentally just where I was heading.
I got delayed by the winery dog, a sweet, old thing who wanted nothing more than to walk beside me where ever I went.
Which was to my car to drive the few miles to my next vineyard.
Walking up to General's Ridge tasting room, I spotted one of the couples from The Hague and they waved hello.
"What took you so long?" they laughed.
Um, going the speed limit?
This winery had far more extensive plantings and two tasting rooms, the smaller of which used old doors from the manor house as the counter tops for the tasting bar.
After meeting the owner inside, we headed down to the smaller tasting room to talk, causing one of the women I'd seen at The Hague to say, "You just walk in a winery and grab a man wherever you go!"
Well, yes, when I can, I certainly do.
It was great fun talking to the owners about their decision to start a winery, with the Mrs. telling me, "I told him we'd only do it over my dead body. But I'm still here!"
They told me how they were originally going to build a boys' school there but when their benefactor died, they regrouped.
We lingered so long sharing stories that I didn't have time for a tasting, so I made sure to get some grape to go, scoring a bottle of their General's Nightcap, a petit manseng dessert wine that was delightfully tropical rather than cloying.
"Have some before bed," the owner suggested. "You'll sleep like a baby!"
I usually accomplish that by staying up until 2 or 3 a.m.
My last stop was Vault Fields, who may have had today's smallest tasting room but because they make their wine on the estate, smelled most like a winery.
I had time for a tasting with the friendly pourer, especially enjoying the 2009 Conundrum, a blend of Chardonnay and Vidal Blanc and the 2008 Meritage Reserve, which would be a thing of beauty with lamb or veal.
After chatting up the owner, I had to hit the road toute suite to make it back in time for my evening's plans.
Keeping with today's theme, I came home, cleaned up and immediately headed to the Library of Virginia for a night of Virginia wine.
"Straight from the Vine: The History of Virginia Wine" was part talk and part tasting.
Arriving after the talk starts means standing in the back of the auditorium since it's pretty packed.
Wine guru Richard Leahy, author of "Beyond Jefferson's Vines: The Evolution of Quality Wine in Virginia" is trying to cover a fraction of what is in his book in this brief talk.
Asking if any of us have heard of RdV Winery, I am one of a dozen or so who raise my hand.
"They're so exclusive you have to make an appointment to go and pay to taste and maybe they'll let you buy some," he says, which gets a big laugh.
What's funny is that The Roosevelt carries RdV wines, so it's much easier to head to Church Hill than make a road trip to Fauquier County and pay forty bucks for a tasting.
Leahy talked about how well represented Virginia wines are in London, while few California wines are available there.
I like to think that Londoners remember the Virginia Company of 1606 and have a soft spot for us.
He got another laugh when he said, "More people would rather own wineries than grow grapes," meaning the actual farming aspect of viticulture is far less glamorous.
"It takes $12,00 per acre to develop a wine crop, without the cost of the land. And that's before machinery and supplies."
Well, no wonder people only want the fun, meeting people and drinking part of being an owner.
Who's got that kind of disposable income these days?
But, honestly, after having spoken to three Virginia winery owners today, I know that plenty of people are willing to do both, own and grow, for the sake of producing the best possible grapes.
After the talk, the large group moved to the lobby for the tasting and reception.
While Leahy signed books, people moved from table to table sampling Virginia wines.
I began with James River Cellars' Petit Verdot since they usually only sell that to wine club members.
Over at the Horton table, I was surprised to see they had a pinotage, a favorite South African grape of mine.
I was surprised to learn that Horton had put in pinotage grapes ten years ago and was working on finessing the flavor profile with each harvest.
Keep up the good work, boys.
Moving around the room, I ran into the Frenchman (who, leaving the talk, had whispered, "Let's go drink!"), saw a familiar wine geek and tried more wines.
There was Jefferson Vineyards' Cabernet Franc and, surprisingly, Barboursville's stellar "Octagon."
I overheard a woman tell her husband, "I just had the Williamsburg winery's red and it's so good I would actually buy it!"
With praise like that, how could I not go taste their Claret and inform the pourer of the compliment?
As I moved around the room tasting and nibbling hors d'oeuvres, it was obvious from the conversations I overheard that many people were unfamiliar with Virginia wines.
If they were smart, they'd do like me: get a new CD and head in almost any direction to check out some Virginia wineries.
After a nice drive with new music blaring, they might find a wine so good they actually want to buy it.
It's a lot easier than they think.
Today I put the pedal to the floor and headed east to Hague, a place I hadn't heard of, but one which is home to three wineries.
Conveniently, I had an assignment to wrote about all three.
Given the sunny skies and open fields, it was an easy drive despite being unfamiliar territory.
Listening to Twin Shadow's "Confess" and passing rural statements like a church sign saying, "Easter surprise! The tomb is empty!" and a gas station marquee with "Come on, Spring!" made for a most pleasurable hour and a half cruise.
My first stop was the Hague Winery where the owner poured for me and told me about all the interesting places to eat and drink in the neighborhood.
I learned about chardonel, a hybrid varietal with which I was not familiar, tasted the 2009 Merlot along with some Old Church Creamery chocolate cheese (yep, that's what it was alright) and a luscious Meritage reserve I'd have bought a case of if I could have afforded it.
Other visitors came in and joined in the conversation about nearby wineries and what there is to do in the area.
One couple from upstate New York was staying at Westmoreland State Park and making a day of winery hopping.
Another came in and didn't bother with a tasting, cutting right to full glasses and a table with a view.
After chatting for a while, the owner offered to show me their guest house, a place they rent out for visitors.
The 19th century building had been converted to a charming space for a 2-4 and, as I pointed out, you can't go wrong with a winery on the premises.
As I was getting ready to leave, one of the couples asked for directions to General's Ridge Winery a few miles away, coincidentally just where I was heading.
I got delayed by the winery dog, a sweet, old thing who wanted nothing more than to walk beside me where ever I went.
Which was to my car to drive the few miles to my next vineyard.
Walking up to General's Ridge tasting room, I spotted one of the couples from The Hague and they waved hello.
"What took you so long?" they laughed.
Um, going the speed limit?
This winery had far more extensive plantings and two tasting rooms, the smaller of which used old doors from the manor house as the counter tops for the tasting bar.
After meeting the owner inside, we headed down to the smaller tasting room to talk, causing one of the women I'd seen at The Hague to say, "You just walk in a winery and grab a man wherever you go!"
Well, yes, when I can, I certainly do.
It was great fun talking to the owners about their decision to start a winery, with the Mrs. telling me, "I told him we'd only do it over my dead body. But I'm still here!"
They told me how they were originally going to build a boys' school there but when their benefactor died, they regrouped.
We lingered so long sharing stories that I didn't have time for a tasting, so I made sure to get some grape to go, scoring a bottle of their General's Nightcap, a petit manseng dessert wine that was delightfully tropical rather than cloying.
"Have some before bed," the owner suggested. "You'll sleep like a baby!"
I usually accomplish that by staying up until 2 or 3 a.m.
My last stop was Vault Fields, who may have had today's smallest tasting room but because they make their wine on the estate, smelled most like a winery.
I had time for a tasting with the friendly pourer, especially enjoying the 2009 Conundrum, a blend of Chardonnay and Vidal Blanc and the 2008 Meritage Reserve, which would be a thing of beauty with lamb or veal.
After chatting up the owner, I had to hit the road toute suite to make it back in time for my evening's plans.
Keeping with today's theme, I came home, cleaned up and immediately headed to the Library of Virginia for a night of Virginia wine.
"Straight from the Vine: The History of Virginia Wine" was part talk and part tasting.
Arriving after the talk starts means standing in the back of the auditorium since it's pretty packed.
Wine guru Richard Leahy, author of "Beyond Jefferson's Vines: The Evolution of Quality Wine in Virginia" is trying to cover a fraction of what is in his book in this brief talk.
Asking if any of us have heard of RdV Winery, I am one of a dozen or so who raise my hand.
"They're so exclusive you have to make an appointment to go and pay to taste and maybe they'll let you buy some," he says, which gets a big laugh.
What's funny is that The Roosevelt carries RdV wines, so it's much easier to head to Church Hill than make a road trip to Fauquier County and pay forty bucks for a tasting.
Leahy talked about how well represented Virginia wines are in London, while few California wines are available there.
I like to think that Londoners remember the Virginia Company of 1606 and have a soft spot for us.
He got another laugh when he said, "More people would rather own wineries than grow grapes," meaning the actual farming aspect of viticulture is far less glamorous.
"It takes $12,00 per acre to develop a wine crop, without the cost of the land. And that's before machinery and supplies."
Well, no wonder people only want the fun, meeting people and drinking part of being an owner.
Who's got that kind of disposable income these days?
But, honestly, after having spoken to three Virginia winery owners today, I know that plenty of people are willing to do both, own and grow, for the sake of producing the best possible grapes.
After the talk, the large group moved to the lobby for the tasting and reception.
While Leahy signed books, people moved from table to table sampling Virginia wines.
I began with James River Cellars' Petit Verdot since they usually only sell that to wine club members.
Over at the Horton table, I was surprised to see they had a pinotage, a favorite South African grape of mine.
I was surprised to learn that Horton had put in pinotage grapes ten years ago and was working on finessing the flavor profile with each harvest.
Keep up the good work, boys.
Moving around the room, I ran into the Frenchman (who, leaving the talk, had whispered, "Let's go drink!"), saw a familiar wine geek and tried more wines.
There was Jefferson Vineyards' Cabernet Franc and, surprisingly, Barboursville's stellar "Octagon."
I overheard a woman tell her husband, "I just had the Williamsburg winery's red and it's so good I would actually buy it!"
With praise like that, how could I not go taste their Claret and inform the pourer of the compliment?
As I moved around the room tasting and nibbling hors d'oeuvres, it was obvious from the conversations I overheard that many people were unfamiliar with Virginia wines.
If they were smart, they'd do like me: get a new CD and head in almost any direction to check out some Virginia wineries.
After a nice drive with new music blaring, they might find a wine so good they actually want to buy it.
It's a lot easier than they think.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Lunch Lecture: Talk Grouse, Think Dog
If you go to a science lecture, you will be given wine. At least that's how it worked out today the Science Museum's Lunch Break Science lecture.
Speaking on the science of wine were Jason Tesauro, Sommelier and Marketing Director at Barboursville Vineyards and Luca Paschina, winemaker of same. I took a seat in the front row and the guy nearest me immediately struck up a conversation about Chateau Morrisette, a winery I've never visited.
He recommended CM wines, specifying vintages, told me about the winery dogs and warned me about the scenic overlook's precipice, saying, "You'll feel like you're at the edge of the earth."
A person could be forgiven for thinking that I have "Talk to me" tattooed on my forehead (and even if I did it would be under my bangs) given the speed with which I end up talking to strangers sometimes.
Jason led the charge with a talk about using new technology in winemaking including NDVI (normalized difference vegetation index, a technique based on GPS), ground penetration radar (peeking into the earth for clues rather than waiting for centuries to figure it out) and sap flow technology (how thirsty is the plant really?). It was a lot of science for the non-scientific among us.
I had to laugh when he qualified all his technology talk by insisting that it wasn't for the purpose of creating 'Frankenwine' because, "You can use all these tools and still produce lousy wine." It was reassuring to hear that even the most sophisticated technology will never replace boots on the ground.
Luca's talk was an acknowledgement that technology has its place, but history has proven that the old ways have worked for centuries. He cited France as a place that has collected so much wine-making experience that no technology could compete with what has been gleaned by mere mortals.
I'd met Luca before, but was reminded today why he's such an interesting guy. Like me, he doesn't have a TV but unlike me. he goes grouse-hunting. Somehow hearing that made me think of hot dogs and I made a snap decision to have one after the lesson was over (grouse, hot dogs, I can't explain it).
I especially related to his warning to be careful about how we process scientific fact and technology; he said it's the responsibility of winemakers to decide how much to use. Some is worthy, some is not.
When he finished, he suggested that the floor be opened for specific questions and Jason suggested that after that they'd be open for specific wine drinking.
He stood and asked how many in the room had been to a Virginia winery and fully three quarters of the audience raised their hands. Gesturing to Luca, he said, "Preacher, choir." True that.
During our practicum to reinforce the lessons of the lecture, they poured two quintessential Virginia grapes, Viognier and Cabernet Franc for our sipping pleasure. Most attendees went with one or the other but I saw no need to limit my learning experience.
As we were milling about with our wine cup(s), apropos of nothing, my seatmate asked if I'd heard about the new hot dog place in the West End.
I'm not quite sure how he'd managed to read my mind, but I told him that I hadn't but was already planning on lunch at City Dogs after this. Turns out he didn't even know about the Fan location, so I was able to enlighten him before heading directly there.
One of the distinguishing features of City Dogs is how male-dominated its customer base always is, but when I walked in today, there were two other female customers. I was amazed.
After ordering my Tennessee Dog (mustard, onions, chili and cole slaw), I acknowledged as much to my server, the servers usually being the only other females in the place.
"I know, we wonder about that every day," she said. She thought women might worry about calories, although as she pointed out, the soy dog is only 60 calories ("Yea, but that's not a real hot dog," I said and she agreed wholeheartedly).
Since we're both big hot dog lovers (her favorite is the Santa Fe Dog with salsa, cheese, jalapenos, guacamole and tortilla chips), we couldn't quite get our heads around how women could pass up the pleasures of a good dog.
Could be that neither of us is a very good representation of our sex. Now that's a real possibility, at least for me.
And I'm okay with that as long as it means I get to keep inhaling a hot dog or two when the mood strikes. You know, like when someone mentions grouse hunting.
Speaking on the science of wine were Jason Tesauro, Sommelier and Marketing Director at Barboursville Vineyards and Luca Paschina, winemaker of same. I took a seat in the front row and the guy nearest me immediately struck up a conversation about Chateau Morrisette, a winery I've never visited.
He recommended CM wines, specifying vintages, told me about the winery dogs and warned me about the scenic overlook's precipice, saying, "You'll feel like you're at the edge of the earth."
A person could be forgiven for thinking that I have "Talk to me" tattooed on my forehead (and even if I did it would be under my bangs) given the speed with which I end up talking to strangers sometimes.
Jason led the charge with a talk about using new technology in winemaking including NDVI (normalized difference vegetation index, a technique based on GPS), ground penetration radar (peeking into the earth for clues rather than waiting for centuries to figure it out) and sap flow technology (how thirsty is the plant really?). It was a lot of science for the non-scientific among us.
I had to laugh when he qualified all his technology talk by insisting that it wasn't for the purpose of creating 'Frankenwine' because, "You can use all these tools and still produce lousy wine." It was reassuring to hear that even the most sophisticated technology will never replace boots on the ground.
Luca's talk was an acknowledgement that technology has its place, but history has proven that the old ways have worked for centuries. He cited France as a place that has collected so much wine-making experience that no technology could compete with what has been gleaned by mere mortals.
I'd met Luca before, but was reminded today why he's such an interesting guy. Like me, he doesn't have a TV but unlike me. he goes grouse-hunting. Somehow hearing that made me think of hot dogs and I made a snap decision to have one after the lesson was over (grouse, hot dogs, I can't explain it).
I especially related to his warning to be careful about how we process scientific fact and technology; he said it's the responsibility of winemakers to decide how much to use. Some is worthy, some is not.
When he finished, he suggested that the floor be opened for specific questions and Jason suggested that after that they'd be open for specific wine drinking.
He stood and asked how many in the room had been to a Virginia winery and fully three quarters of the audience raised their hands. Gesturing to Luca, he said, "Preacher, choir." True that.
During our practicum to reinforce the lessons of the lecture, they poured two quintessential Virginia grapes, Viognier and Cabernet Franc for our sipping pleasure. Most attendees went with one or the other but I saw no need to limit my learning experience.
As we were milling about with our wine cup(s), apropos of nothing, my seatmate asked if I'd heard about the new hot dog place in the West End.
I'm not quite sure how he'd managed to read my mind, but I told him that I hadn't but was already planning on lunch at City Dogs after this. Turns out he didn't even know about the Fan location, so I was able to enlighten him before heading directly there.
One of the distinguishing features of City Dogs is how male-dominated its customer base always is, but when I walked in today, there were two other female customers. I was amazed.
After ordering my Tennessee Dog (mustard, onions, chili and cole slaw), I acknowledged as much to my server, the servers usually being the only other females in the place.
"I know, we wonder about that every day," she said. She thought women might worry about calories, although as she pointed out, the soy dog is only 60 calories ("Yea, but that's not a real hot dog," I said and she agreed wholeheartedly).
Since we're both big hot dog lovers (her favorite is the Santa Fe Dog with salsa, cheese, jalapenos, guacamole and tortilla chips), we couldn't quite get our heads around how women could pass up the pleasures of a good dog.
Could be that neither of us is a very good representation of our sex. Now that's a real possibility, at least for me.
And I'm okay with that as long as it means I get to keep inhaling a hot dog or two when the mood strikes. You know, like when someone mentions grouse hunting.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Positive Vibe Cafe: Barboursville Wine Dinner
In terms of philanthropy, RVA ranks #8 in giving; impressive, isn't it? Wanting to be part of that giving spirit, my Beer Geek Friend and I helped support Max's Positive Vibe Cafe's food service training program tonight with a meal prepared by J Frank, supported by Barboursville wine maker Luca Paschina sharing his wines. And, oh, what lovely wines they were!
We began with Artichoke and Saffron Soup with Sparkling Brut, a lovely combination I thought. The main course was Mesquite Grilled Pork Chop, Polenta, Goat Cheese & Rosemary, served with two wines: the Cabernet Franc Reserve and the Octagon VIII. Wonderful as the Cab Franc was, the Octagon was the one to savor, both with its divine aroma and its lush taste. We finished with Pumpkin Gelato, Ginger Brandy Snaps and Candied Pumpkin, served with Phileo, a dessert wine. Phileo, as Luca told us, means "love" in Greek or "lahve" as he pronounced it. It worked especially well with the Ginger Brandy snaps, my favorite part of the dessert course.
The crowd had several familiar faces, including the singer Susan Greenbaum, a local magazine editor and several friends from two of my favorite restaurants. While we lingered over the last of the wine and BGF's coffee, we also had the pleasure of being chatted up by a wine dinner attendee I'd met before at other dinners; I am always flattered when people remember me. It was funny because BGF and I met and became friends over a series of shared wine dinners and this woman was at all the same ones. Since BGF and I always sat at the bar, though, I'm surprised she recognized us from the front.
Finally it was down to us and one other table and the staff was starting to gather, so we took the hint and moved it outside for the rest of our conversation. BGF is smart and droll and always a good one to discuss things with; tonight was no different.
Not that we were there for chatting purposes. This was strictly a philanthropic endeavor we were on. Yea, right.
We began with Artichoke and Saffron Soup with Sparkling Brut, a lovely combination I thought. The main course was Mesquite Grilled Pork Chop, Polenta, Goat Cheese & Rosemary, served with two wines: the Cabernet Franc Reserve and the Octagon VIII. Wonderful as the Cab Franc was, the Octagon was the one to savor, both with its divine aroma and its lush taste. We finished with Pumpkin Gelato, Ginger Brandy Snaps and Candied Pumpkin, served with Phileo, a dessert wine. Phileo, as Luca told us, means "love" in Greek or "lahve" as he pronounced it. It worked especially well with the Ginger Brandy snaps, my favorite part of the dessert course.
The crowd had several familiar faces, including the singer Susan Greenbaum, a local magazine editor and several friends from two of my favorite restaurants. While we lingered over the last of the wine and BGF's coffee, we also had the pleasure of being chatted up by a wine dinner attendee I'd met before at other dinners; I am always flattered when people remember me. It was funny because BGF and I met and became friends over a series of shared wine dinners and this woman was at all the same ones. Since BGF and I always sat at the bar, though, I'm surprised she recognized us from the front.
Finally it was down to us and one other table and the staff was starting to gather, so we took the hint and moved it outside for the rest of our conversation. BGF is smart and droll and always a good one to discuss things with; tonight was no different.
Not that we were there for chatting purposes. This was strictly a philanthropic endeavor we were on. Yea, right.
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