Leave it to a fellow Gemini to give me the best birthday eve celebration ever.
Because, as we all know, the first rule of a birthday eve is to tease the imminent holiday, but not overshadow it with too much celebration, lest it eclipse the main event.
Only a fellow Gemini can walk that fine line.
First she picks me up, tells me how nice I look and then she takes me to Enoteca Sogno.
The restaurant is not too busy, the owner greets us at the door and we decide to sit at the bar when he says he will be our server.
Because we got a late start, we have already missed out on the soft-shelled crab appetizer, but not the other specials.
"We're going to eat until we die," my friend announces, apropos of nothing.
Can do.
There are two Roses on the menu and in appropriate birthday eve-fashion, we ask for one of each.
My favorite is the Argiolas Serra Lori, tasting of berries and herbs, although the other Rose (made from Nebbiolo) is a close second, especially once food arrives.
Friend engages the owner in talk of Italy and it is a discussion that continues unabated throughout the night.
I have made only one visit to Italy, my friend has made two and our host boasts of sixteen, a number we cannot begin to compete with.
He mentions friends about to embark on their first trip to Italy, planning to spend three days each in Florence, Rome and Venice.
I've only been to Italy once and even I know what a bad idea that is.
Three days in Florence? Three days?
I spent a week and it wasn't close to enough, so how could any human being be satisfied with a mere three days?
Our host seems to think they just want to be able to check off three Italian cities off their bucket list.
Tragic.
But it's not our problem, so we move on to more pressing issues, like food.
She starts with a beet and orange salad while I jump straight to meat with a plate of Olli salumeria, letting the kitchen choose my three varieties.
I end up with three Italians: Toscano (notes of fennel), Napoli (smoked) and Molisano (pepper and garlic), all with just enough fat to make the wine come alive.
As we eat the salami, we hear that Olli is planning to sell their products in B.J.'s and a little piece of our souls die when we hear this.
Really, Olli, the sublime meats to be found in high-end restaurants all over the country is now available in a discount store?
This is not good birthday eve news.
For distraction from this tragedy, the chef comes out and we discuss the Lebanese Food Festival, an event he attended that left him in a food coma.
Now we want our own.
For our next course, she chooses rockfish with a side of asparagus with butter and Parmesan and another of spaghetti while I ask for scallops with a balsamic reduction.
I switch to the other Rose while she continues to sip her first glass, good girl that she is.
My scallops are meaty and sweet, the ideal complement to my Rose.
Even though most of the dinner crowd is leaving, we are soon joined by a group of wine geeks spouting wine talk in that way that makes mere mortals wonder what they're talking about.
On the other hand, they are guys and we are women and they are ordering very nice wines and are soon offering to pour us some of what they're drinking.
My friend demurs while I happily avail myself of their generosity.
2006 Voliero Brunello is the first thing they offer me and the nose alone is worth whatever conversation they want in return.
It has a gorgeous, flowery nose and a long finish and when I am offered a second taste, I happily accept.
Generous wine geeks are the best.
Friend and I were feeling uncomfortably full (possibly near death, the stated goal for the evening) but I reminded her that there's a always a corner for dessert.
Especially on a person's birthday eve.
That came in the form of sea salt and caramel boudino with nut brittle.
As the soon-to-be birthday girl, I was expected to finish more than half, which turned out to be more challenging than you (or I) might think.
But, trooper that I am, I persevered, along with some help from a 2006 Casanova di Neri Brunello, which the wine geeks said would be even more stellar by 2018.
The thing is, birthday eves are all about the here and now, so I had no interest in waiting until 2018 for wine or anything else.
It's enough I have to wait till tomorrow to begin the serious celebration.
Okay, not so serious. I am, after all, a Gemini.
Showing posts with label enoteca sogno. Show all posts
Showing posts with label enoteca sogno. Show all posts
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Pork Rind Prosperity
Once is nothing, but twice is a tradition.
So I invited the same girlfriend I'd invited out last New Year's Eve and we dubbed it an annual tradition.
We were looking for a leisurely meal to celebrate 2013 so I chose Enoteca Sogno, making a reservation for two at the bar.
Points always go to restaurants that take bar reservations.
When we arrived at 9, the place was packed with revelers, but our two stools were waiting for us.
Next to us at the bar was wine god Bob from Can Can, looking extremely dapper in a dark blue suit with a pale shirt and tie combination that looked most elegant.
There was never an question but that bubbles were the order of the evening, but it was choosing the bubbles that challenged.
Luckily, the barkeep was patient as we took our time choosing glasses of Montelliana Prosecco and then toasting each other.
Then we opened up the floor for others to entertain us.
The guys next to us were of no use, using phrases like "real Amuricans," so we were glad when they left.
They were replaced with a stylish couple, she with a chignon and he with a decidedly European look and accent.
Talk of the music playing got Bob's attention and he amused us with stories of stumping the "kids" he worked with at Can Can.
Apparently he's got an encyclopedic knowledge of music from 1955 forward and a discussion of an all-night Elvis-watching party in his youth followed tales of Roy Orbison.
There was a musical quiz and I got several right as Bob sang snippets from his youth in Ames, Iowa.
Eventually the Prosecco dictated that we begin eating and we turned to the special New Year's Eve menu.
Bob had been eating the crostini with mascarpone (and a dissertation on the frequent misspelling of that word) with Osetra caviar.
He admitted that the dish had been a tease, making him want less bread and cheese and more eggs.
We decided on the Robiola cheese, a fresh cow's milk cheese from the Piedmont region and served with honey.
The cheese, with over 50% fat, was to die for and we slathered it thickly on bread like butter and drizzled it lightly with the honey before scarfing it down.
It soon became clear that more bubbles were in order, so we moved on to Orsolani Erbaluce di Caluso 2006, getting beautiful bubbles and lemony fruit in the bargain.
Looking at the special menu, I saw that they were serving a dish Italians traditionally serve for New Year's, Cotechino sausage with lentils.
I asked the bartender about it and he handed me off. "Ask Paolo," he said, gesturing toward the Italian on a nearby stool.
"My mother makes it every year since I was a little boy," he said with a smile. "But I've been eating it so long, so now I tell her no thanks when she invites me over for Cotechino for the new year."
Since we were non-Italians and hadn't been eating it since childhood, we decided to try the rustic dish with the pork rind sausage.
When it arrived smelling earthy and wonderful, the five slices of sausage were arranged over a bed of lentils and the owner said the placement was intentional, intended to evoke coins over a pile of small change.
The dish, he said, is eaten on New Year's to ensure good luck and prosperity in the new year.
Well, who couldn't use some of that?
I loved the coarse, fatty sausage and I adore lentils, so the dish was a home run for me although my friend found it too unique for her taste.
But she was wallowing in a bowl of Brussels sprouts, a dish she traditionally makes for Christmas but hadn't this year.
Her holiday wasn't going to be complete until she ate some and we finally took care of scratching that Christmas itch for her.
We got into an intense discussion with Bob about cultural literacy, having to define words for colleagues and the number of people with no appreciation for the Bard.
Bob surprised us both by beginning to recite a Shakespeare soliloquy as we sat back in our stools, rapt at lucking into someone willing to recite for us.
That was about the time that some French bubbly started showing up, brought by Bob to share with those who lingered long enough.
We hadn't intended to, but all of a sudden it was 11:50 and we were told, "As long as you're here now, you may as well stay and celebrate here."
Who were we to argue?
We'd wanted to order the caramel and sea salt budino but it had sold out, so the bartender brought us bread pudding, a nice gesture if an unsatisfactory substitution.
But with tastings of Barolos and Barbarescos coming our way, we'd have been fools to be anywhere else.
M Ward yielded to Led Zeppelin on the sound system and more music talk resulted.
I chatted up the woman next to me and she must have been feeling her wine because she shared all kinds of things I had no business hearing.
Let's just say the age difference and the size of her mate were among the tidbits she laughingly offered unsolicited.
But it was almost 2 a.m. by that time, so we may have all been over-sharing a bit.
All told, we'd had an excellent meal, plenty of celebratory bubbles and the kind of erudite conversation a girl can only hope for when she leaves the house on the last night of the year.
I even got a mash note.
"Karen, You are hilarious! So hilarious, as in Gene Wilder in "Young Frankenstein"! I love ya! Thanks for making me laugh."
What better night to spend laughing?
And now it's a tradition, so I already have a date for next New Year's Eve.
So I invited the same girlfriend I'd invited out last New Year's Eve and we dubbed it an annual tradition.
We were looking for a leisurely meal to celebrate 2013 so I chose Enoteca Sogno, making a reservation for two at the bar.
Points always go to restaurants that take bar reservations.
When we arrived at 9, the place was packed with revelers, but our two stools were waiting for us.
Next to us at the bar was wine god Bob from Can Can, looking extremely dapper in a dark blue suit with a pale shirt and tie combination that looked most elegant.
There was never an question but that bubbles were the order of the evening, but it was choosing the bubbles that challenged.
Luckily, the barkeep was patient as we took our time choosing glasses of Montelliana Prosecco and then toasting each other.
Then we opened up the floor for others to entertain us.
The guys next to us were of no use, using phrases like "real Amuricans," so we were glad when they left.
They were replaced with a stylish couple, she with a chignon and he with a decidedly European look and accent.
Talk of the music playing got Bob's attention and he amused us with stories of stumping the "kids" he worked with at Can Can.
Apparently he's got an encyclopedic knowledge of music from 1955 forward and a discussion of an all-night Elvis-watching party in his youth followed tales of Roy Orbison.
There was a musical quiz and I got several right as Bob sang snippets from his youth in Ames, Iowa.
Eventually the Prosecco dictated that we begin eating and we turned to the special New Year's Eve menu.
Bob had been eating the crostini with mascarpone (and a dissertation on the frequent misspelling of that word) with Osetra caviar.
He admitted that the dish had been a tease, making him want less bread and cheese and more eggs.
We decided on the Robiola cheese, a fresh cow's milk cheese from the Piedmont region and served with honey.
The cheese, with over 50% fat, was to die for and we slathered it thickly on bread like butter and drizzled it lightly with the honey before scarfing it down.
It soon became clear that more bubbles were in order, so we moved on to Orsolani Erbaluce di Caluso 2006, getting beautiful bubbles and lemony fruit in the bargain.
Looking at the special menu, I saw that they were serving a dish Italians traditionally serve for New Year's, Cotechino sausage with lentils.
I asked the bartender about it and he handed me off. "Ask Paolo," he said, gesturing toward the Italian on a nearby stool.
"My mother makes it every year since I was a little boy," he said with a smile. "But I've been eating it so long, so now I tell her no thanks when she invites me over for Cotechino for the new year."
Since we were non-Italians and hadn't been eating it since childhood, we decided to try the rustic dish with the pork rind sausage.
When it arrived smelling earthy and wonderful, the five slices of sausage were arranged over a bed of lentils and the owner said the placement was intentional, intended to evoke coins over a pile of small change.
The dish, he said, is eaten on New Year's to ensure good luck and prosperity in the new year.
Well, who couldn't use some of that?
I loved the coarse, fatty sausage and I adore lentils, so the dish was a home run for me although my friend found it too unique for her taste.
But she was wallowing in a bowl of Brussels sprouts, a dish she traditionally makes for Christmas but hadn't this year.
Her holiday wasn't going to be complete until she ate some and we finally took care of scratching that Christmas itch for her.
We got into an intense discussion with Bob about cultural literacy, having to define words for colleagues and the number of people with no appreciation for the Bard.
Bob surprised us both by beginning to recite a Shakespeare soliloquy as we sat back in our stools, rapt at lucking into someone willing to recite for us.
That was about the time that some French bubbly started showing up, brought by Bob to share with those who lingered long enough.
We hadn't intended to, but all of a sudden it was 11:50 and we were told, "As long as you're here now, you may as well stay and celebrate here."
Who were we to argue?
We'd wanted to order the caramel and sea salt budino but it had sold out, so the bartender brought us bread pudding, a nice gesture if an unsatisfactory substitution.
But with tastings of Barolos and Barbarescos coming our way, we'd have been fools to be anywhere else.
M Ward yielded to Led Zeppelin on the sound system and more music talk resulted.
I chatted up the woman next to me and she must have been feeling her wine because she shared all kinds of things I had no business hearing.
Let's just say the age difference and the size of her mate were among the tidbits she laughingly offered unsolicited.
But it was almost 2 a.m. by that time, so we may have all been over-sharing a bit.
All told, we'd had an excellent meal, plenty of celebratory bubbles and the kind of erudite conversation a girl can only hope for when she leaves the house on the last night of the year.
I even got a mash note.
"Karen, You are hilarious! So hilarious, as in Gene Wilder in "Young Frankenstein"! I love ya! Thanks for making me laugh."
What better night to spend laughing?
And now it's a tradition, so I already have a date for next New Year's Eve.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Following the Coast Road
A decided disadvantage of moving around in a small geographic bubble is losing sight of places just outside the bubble.
Like Enoteca Sogno. I'd been there a year ago and not returned for any better reason than it's outside my usual radius.
My dining partner had never been and wanted some place "light and airy." As a bonus, he'd happily eat Italian 24/7.
Light was streaming in the big front window and we assumed our positions at the end of the bar.
Out lovely barkeep was smart and funny and, after some tasting, delivered a bottle of Sardinian Argiolas Costomolino Vermentino, recommended by a man one month home from a trip to Sardinia.
Fresh-tasting and yet with a certain richness, it was the ideal early evening meal wine.
Listening to the specials, we were instantly enamored of stuffed squid full of chopped tentacles, lemon thyme butter, breadcrumbs and Peccorino.
As she was explaining the re-stuffing of the squid body, our witty server said, "People usually stop me there."
Well, that's unfortunate.
Needless to say, that won our hearts and was followed by the whole Branzino, the exact same dish I'd had when I'd last been there.
No apologies here; when the skin is that crispy and seasoned and the fish that flaky, I set my mouth for repeat.
And the lightly dressed arugula on the plate cut the indulgence of the squid with its pepperiness.
It was a crowd I don't often encounter, but definitely bustling, so we appreciated our tucked-away setting near the back of the bar.
Actually, any place would have been fine when I'm listening to stories of riding the coast road in Sardinia while eating whole fish with my fingers.
Only rule? One cheek a piece.
We figured canoli and tiramisu were for beginners, so we chose the lemon polenta cake with almond which came with balsamic-soaked strawberries.
Think of it as a European version of strawberry jam on a corn muffin.
The perfect ending.
And what have we learned from this, Karen?
Sometimes we have to wander out of our usual circle to be rewarded with cheeks and stories.
Note to self: widen orbit.
Like Enoteca Sogno. I'd been there a year ago and not returned for any better reason than it's outside my usual radius.
My dining partner had never been and wanted some place "light and airy." As a bonus, he'd happily eat Italian 24/7.
Light was streaming in the big front window and we assumed our positions at the end of the bar.
Out lovely barkeep was smart and funny and, after some tasting, delivered a bottle of Sardinian Argiolas Costomolino Vermentino, recommended by a man one month home from a trip to Sardinia.
Fresh-tasting and yet with a certain richness, it was the ideal early evening meal wine.
Listening to the specials, we were instantly enamored of stuffed squid full of chopped tentacles, lemon thyme butter, breadcrumbs and Peccorino.
As she was explaining the re-stuffing of the squid body, our witty server said, "People usually stop me there."
Well, that's unfortunate.
Needless to say, that won our hearts and was followed by the whole Branzino, the exact same dish I'd had when I'd last been there.
No apologies here; when the skin is that crispy and seasoned and the fish that flaky, I set my mouth for repeat.
And the lightly dressed arugula on the plate cut the indulgence of the squid with its pepperiness.
It was a crowd I don't often encounter, but definitely bustling, so we appreciated our tucked-away setting near the back of the bar.
Actually, any place would have been fine when I'm listening to stories of riding the coast road in Sardinia while eating whole fish with my fingers.
Only rule? One cheek a piece.
We figured canoli and tiramisu were for beginners, so we chose the lemon polenta cake with almond which came with balsamic-soaked strawberries.
Think of it as a European version of strawberry jam on a corn muffin.
The perfect ending.
And what have we learned from this, Karen?
Sometimes we have to wander out of our usual circle to be rewarded with cheeks and stories.
Note to self: widen orbit.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Enoteca Sogno Back in Biz
When I got the e-mail saying Enoteca Sogno was opening at its new Northside location (finally!) tonight, it wasn't that big of a deal.
I know a lot of people are fanatics about the place, but my interest is far more casual.
I'd been to few terrific wine dinners there, but other than that, I'd only had dinner maybe twice.
But my dining companion suggested going (actually made a joke about not going), so we figured why not and off we went.
In my humble opinion, the new space is more attractive than the Broad Street space, with wooden floors, a curving bar and not nearly as many tables as they could have.
But the ones they did were all occupied tonight, so clearly lots of people were eager to see how things had come together.
The bartender was a familiar face and I planted kisses on both cheeks to mark him before he rushed off to keep his flourishing bar crowd refilled.
Our server was another RVA regular whom I know from at least two other restaurants.
Having arrived fairly late (we were told the horde arrived around 6:30 and we were closer to 8:30), we dove right in to the menu.
Vietti Roero Arneis, a light and earthy grape I'd never had before and a plate of various Olli salami, made right here in Richmond got us off to a satisfying start.
No question, I see a lot of Olli in my future.
Chewy and soft in texture (okay, fat) and with each of the three kinds having distinctive kinds of spice, my companion declared it better than any American-made he'd had.
We sat back and savored it with our wine.
Mussels in white sauce over spaghetti came next and while the mussels were plump and the broth sop-worthy, the pasta was unnecessary because we'd also gotten the fresh tagliatelle with a mix of wild mushrooms and truffle oil.
Enjoyed with the wine, the earthiness of the mushrooms made it a lovely combination..
I chose the whole branzino roasted with garlic and herbs and the other eater got one of two specials for the evening, the veal Picatta (the other was a chicken Marsala and those were the only three proteins on the menu for tonight; more are to be added next week).
The branzino was the star and we ate it down to the bones, leaving a pile of them on the side of the plate.
The veal wasn't all it could have been, but it was late by this point and a new kitchen can be allowed one so-so plate on a mobbed opening night.
After so much food, we decided to move up to the bar to join the after-hours party tasting wines and talking about, what else, food and wine.
We started with the Mastro Janni Brunello di Montalcino 2005, a delicate but earthy wine that the owner had been saving for just such an evening and moved on to a Isole e Olena Cepparello, a wine so smooth and velvety as to be an example of what people miss when they don't drink red wine.
A Felsina Fontalloro sealed the evening for me with its very ripe red fruit nose, smooth tannins and beautiful long finish.
A wine rep friend at the bar looked perplexed, asking, "How is it I've never heard of this wine?"
My question would be more like, how is it I've never drunk this wine?
No one would argue that Gary York doesn't maintain an interesting wine list and, from last night's list, a well-priced one.
But it's hard to deny the pleasures of being included in the after-party and tasting the stuff he cellars for himself. It's even better with enough satisfying food first to prevent any chance of public loopiness.
Sometimes it's enough to be in the right place at the right time and just enjoy the moment.No doubt one of my strengths.
I know a lot of people are fanatics about the place, but my interest is far more casual.
I'd been to few terrific wine dinners there, but other than that, I'd only had dinner maybe twice.
But my dining companion suggested going (actually made a joke about not going), so we figured why not and off we went.
In my humble opinion, the new space is more attractive than the Broad Street space, with wooden floors, a curving bar and not nearly as many tables as they could have.
But the ones they did were all occupied tonight, so clearly lots of people were eager to see how things had come together.
The bartender was a familiar face and I planted kisses on both cheeks to mark him before he rushed off to keep his flourishing bar crowd refilled.
Our server was another RVA regular whom I know from at least two other restaurants.
Having arrived fairly late (we were told the horde arrived around 6:30 and we were closer to 8:30), we dove right in to the menu.
Vietti Roero Arneis, a light and earthy grape I'd never had before and a plate of various Olli salami, made right here in Richmond got us off to a satisfying start.
No question, I see a lot of Olli in my future.
Chewy and soft in texture (okay, fat) and with each of the three kinds having distinctive kinds of spice, my companion declared it better than any American-made he'd had.
We sat back and savored it with our wine.
Mussels in white sauce over spaghetti came next and while the mussels were plump and the broth sop-worthy, the pasta was unnecessary because we'd also gotten the fresh tagliatelle with a mix of wild mushrooms and truffle oil.
Enjoyed with the wine, the earthiness of the mushrooms made it a lovely combination..
I chose the whole branzino roasted with garlic and herbs and the other eater got one of two specials for the evening, the veal Picatta (the other was a chicken Marsala and those were the only three proteins on the menu for tonight; more are to be added next week).
The branzino was the star and we ate it down to the bones, leaving a pile of them on the side of the plate.
The veal wasn't all it could have been, but it was late by this point and a new kitchen can be allowed one so-so plate on a mobbed opening night.
After so much food, we decided to move up to the bar to join the after-hours party tasting wines and talking about, what else, food and wine.
We started with the Mastro Janni Brunello di Montalcino 2005, a delicate but earthy wine that the owner had been saving for just such an evening and moved on to a Isole e Olena Cepparello, a wine so smooth and velvety as to be an example of what people miss when they don't drink red wine.
A Felsina Fontalloro sealed the evening for me with its very ripe red fruit nose, smooth tannins and beautiful long finish.
A wine rep friend at the bar looked perplexed, asking, "How is it I've never heard of this wine?"
My question would be more like, how is it I've never drunk this wine?
No one would argue that Gary York doesn't maintain an interesting wine list and, from last night's list, a well-priced one.
But it's hard to deny the pleasures of being included in the after-party and tasting the stuff he cellars for himself. It's even better with enough satisfying food first to prevent any chance of public loopiness.
Sometimes it's enough to be in the right place at the right time and just enjoy the moment.No doubt one of my strengths.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Winning Winemaker Words
I'm always pleasantly surprised when I meet someone once and they remember me on our second meeting.
But I'm dumbfounded when I meet someone once and they don't just remember me, they write me a lovely e-mail a few weeks later, referencing the evening we met, sharing information and anticipating our next meeting.
Such was the case when I just received an e-mail from Jean Francois Coquard of Tenuta Mazzolino, the winemaker I'd met at Enoteca Sogno's wine dinner back at the beginning of the month.
I'd enjoyed his company at dinner (being the only single diner) and his wines were a delightful discovery for me, so naturally I'd blogged the occasion.
He was full of appreciation for the attention, notably, he wrote, because I'd done it in such a "personal and friendly" way.
Actually, I think personal and friendly just happens to be my style, but still, it was a gracious compliment, among others.
He was most excited about today's degorgement of their new Mazzolino Brut Rose, a sparkling rose made with Pinot Noir, after 18 months in bottles.
I was most excited to be promised details of his Asian trip and his sincere hope that we would dine again when he returns to Richmond.
I can only hope to make such a good first impression with any interesting man I meet.
But I'm dumbfounded when I meet someone once and they don't just remember me, they write me a lovely e-mail a few weeks later, referencing the evening we met, sharing information and anticipating our next meeting.
Such was the case when I just received an e-mail from Jean Francois Coquard of Tenuta Mazzolino, the winemaker I'd met at Enoteca Sogno's wine dinner back at the beginning of the month.
I'd enjoyed his company at dinner (being the only single diner) and his wines were a delightful discovery for me, so naturally I'd blogged the occasion.
He was full of appreciation for the attention, notably, he wrote, because I'd done it in such a "personal and friendly" way.
Actually, I think personal and friendly just happens to be my style, but still, it was a gracious compliment, among others.
He was most excited about today's degorgement of their new Mazzolino Brut Rose, a sparkling rose made with Pinot Noir, after 18 months in bottles.
I was most excited to be promised details of his Asian trip and his sincere hope that we would dine again when he returns to Richmond.
I can only hope to make such a good first impression with any interesting man I meet.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Holding the Red Bull at Enoteca Sogno
How many winemakers can I meet in eleven days?
Two, apparently, and tonight it was the delightful Jean Francois Coquard from Tenuta Mazzolino at Enoteca Sogno's wine dinner. Youngest of six siblings, by the time he was old enough to make wine, all the older ones had claimed the family vineyards, so Jean moved to Italy to stake his claim.
Tonight we enjoyed the fruits of his labor and they were excellent.
We started with a Chardonnay "Camara" with absolutely no oak, so it was fresh and fruity tasting and paired with smoked trout with apples and arugula. More than one person said it didn't even taste like chardonnay, it was that good.
Next was Bonard "Mazzolino" Oltrepo Pavese, their native grape and highly tannic...until you sipped it with the Gorgonzola, salami and Tallegio with fig jam that accompanied it. Then it was pure heaven.
Then came the Pinot Nero "Terrazze," the perfect match for the best minestrone with pancetta and Parmasean/Reggiano that anyone in the room had ever tasted. It was such a great dish for a fall night and the young wine matched it beautifully.
We finished with a 2004 Pinot Nero "Noir" Oltrepo Pavese that smelled so amazing that everyone spent the first ten minutes just inhaling all that beautiful aroma. Eventually, we started drinking it with a risotto with butternut squash and everyone wanted more of this wine. Even those not much a fan of Pinot Noir were blown away by it, and no one was surprised to learn that it was recently rated the top Italian Pinot Noir. It was the one to buy.
Jean was charming, sharing stories about his vineyard, his siblings (one brother makes wine in Wisconsin. Yes, Wisconsin), his hectic travel schedule (an upcoming trip to Singapore and Japan) and the details on how early his harvest came in this year (September 5th!).
He was downright hysterical describing his first Red Bull (my condolences) and first tofu sausage (the visual alone was priceless). More importantly, his French accent and phrasing made listening to him a real pleasure, second only to his extraordinary wines.
A girl could get used to that combination.
Two, apparently, and tonight it was the delightful Jean Francois Coquard from Tenuta Mazzolino at Enoteca Sogno's wine dinner. Youngest of six siblings, by the time he was old enough to make wine, all the older ones had claimed the family vineyards, so Jean moved to Italy to stake his claim.
Tonight we enjoyed the fruits of his labor and they were excellent.
We started with a Chardonnay "Camara" with absolutely no oak, so it was fresh and fruity tasting and paired with smoked trout with apples and arugula. More than one person said it didn't even taste like chardonnay, it was that good.
Next was Bonard "Mazzolino" Oltrepo Pavese, their native grape and highly tannic...until you sipped it with the Gorgonzola, salami and Tallegio with fig jam that accompanied it. Then it was pure heaven.
Then came the Pinot Nero "Terrazze," the perfect match for the best minestrone with pancetta and Parmasean/Reggiano that anyone in the room had ever tasted. It was such a great dish for a fall night and the young wine matched it beautifully.
We finished with a 2004 Pinot Nero "Noir" Oltrepo Pavese that smelled so amazing that everyone spent the first ten minutes just inhaling all that beautiful aroma. Eventually, we started drinking it with a risotto with butternut squash and everyone wanted more of this wine. Even those not much a fan of Pinot Noir were blown away by it, and no one was surprised to learn that it was recently rated the top Italian Pinot Noir. It was the one to buy.
Jean was charming, sharing stories about his vineyard, his siblings (one brother makes wine in Wisconsin. Yes, Wisconsin), his hectic travel schedule (an upcoming trip to Singapore and Japan) and the details on how early his harvest came in this year (September 5th!).
He was downright hysterical describing his first Red Bull (my condolences) and first tofu sausage (the visual alone was priceless). More importantly, his French accent and phrasing made listening to him a real pleasure, second only to his extraordinary wines.
A girl could get used to that combination.
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