Tartar Build-up...

Today, I had the joy of visiting the dentist for the first time in several years.  I'm happy to report that overall, the check-up revealed that my teeth are in good condition for someone who is (and I use the dentists' words exactly) "young and healthy like yourself." Of course, no visit is perfect so one thing I must focus on is softer toothbrushes in order to have a better handle at my receding gumline. All in all, not that bad as better brushing can reverse receding gums; no amount of hair care can reverse the effects of a receding hairline. I'll take my ultra-soft toothbrush with pride, thank you.

Another thing that came up was the amount of tartar build-up that has accumulated since my last visit 3 - 4 years ago (most likely 5, but I didn't say that). One hour of polishing, scraping, and spitting and only my bottom teeth (with junior-high-aged retainer still in place) are now squeeky clean. Litterally squeeky clean as the hygenist demonstrated smoothed-out teeth (no squeeky sound) versus not-yet cleaned teeth (a mini nail-on-chalkboard sound) with her picks and drills. 

As I lay in the chair going over the rest of the day's plans (visit with friends, grocery shopping, gardening), an inspired meal from the heavens descended upon me. (In hindsight, it was likely more the shine of the dentist's lamp than heavenly beams that blinded me at the time of inspiration). If my teeth have that much tartar build-up, why not treat my teeth to a totally tartar dinner?

First, the tartar meat. As I am hesitant to prepare and serve myself completely raw red meat, I opted for fresh albacore tuna steak. The marinade was a combo of what to me would naturally go with tuna (Japanese ingredients: soy, salt, sesame oil) and my mojito of the moment (lime, sugar, rum), with a bit of ground ginger in honour of my slight growth of gingivitis (sp?). Marinade 1 hour, grill to sear outer edges and serve.

Next, the sauce for my tuna tartar could only be homemade tartare sauce, right? Tartare sauce is essentially mayonnaise flavoured with fresh dill, parsely, and chopped cornichons. Store-bought mayonnaise pales in comparison with homemade, and making your own mayonnaise is so easy: 1 egg yolk for 1/2 cup olive oil and 1 tbsp lemon juice (vinegar or lime juice also good), with some salt for flavour. Whisk gradually and voi-la! You'll never buy Hellman's again!

Serve tartare sauce over cubed tuna tartar with rice and kale (which was stir-fried in the leftover marinade), and you have a dish perfect to celebrate your tartar-free teeth with! The perfect wine-pair for this meal was a Cab-Franc rose from BC's own Tinhorn Creek, but any dry rose would do fine.

When enjoying this tartar-inspired meal, don't forget to say "aah!"

Atop the Wine Podium...

With the start of the Olympics this weekend, you may reflect on what it takes for a wine to be granted a Gold, Silver, or Bronze medal in any given wine competition. Or what more, how does a wine achieve a score such as 92 points (of 100) or 18.5 (of 20)? How can a $20 wine score higher than a $70 wine? While the worlds of wine and sport may appear to be different, parallel bars do exist between judging sport and wine.

As we all know, wine is enjoyed by everyone on a subjective matter, so there is nothing in the absolute terms as the best wine as we would see a fastest runner, highest jumper, or strongest weightlifter. Instead, like judges of gymnastics or synchronised swimming, wine judges are trained to be able to discern the fundamental elements of the wine before them and rate accordingly. Formal wine tasting is divided into appearance, nose, palate, and conclusions. Points are assigned in each category. With regards to conclusions, for example, the acronym B.L.I.C.E. is a good way to determine a wine's overall rating: Balance (are all the parts in harmony?); Length(how long do the flavours last?); Intensity (how well can you detect the flavours?); Complexity (how many flavours are going on?); Expression (is the wine indicative of the grape(s) and region?). Score well on each of these elements and your wine may be in the running for a gold medal.

As above, however, how can a much less expensive wine score significantly higher than a much more expensive wine? An explanation for this can be found in such sports as boxing or wrestling. No one expects a featherweight to be able to take on a heavyweight, so a $15 bottle of wine is not expected to outclass a $50. As such, each price range can be related to a weightclass; gold medal winners show the best for their respective range. Likewise, as distances have separate competitions on the track, different categories exist for each varietal or blend. In this way, Rieslings will be judged on their own merit and not against a grape of completely different style, like Chardonnay.

The fun thing with my training and occupation is that I can play the role of Wine judge on a daily basis. On average, about 10 wines will pass my palate and I get to decide (along with my peers) which wines pass the test and get listed. My own Olympic tasting record is 100 wines (exactly) in one day. Like a marathon, it took lots of training and pacing in order to achieve not only the goal of getting through the wines but also to taste and judge effectively. Of that group, only a dozen or so reached the heights of gold with a few silvers and bronzes; most were eliminated in the qualifying heats.

I'm certainly not the Olympic athelete in the family (that's my cousin - as my Mum pointed out, I'm the smart one), but I could always represent as an Olympic wine judge. A tough job, but someone has to do it. Wh

 

When Everything Old World is New Again...

WHEN THE OLD WORLD IS NEW AGAIN

In the world of wine, the term "Old World" refers to wines from Europe and "New World" refers to everywhere else (Canada, Australia, Chile, South Africa...). As with our societies, grapes made their way from their homelands in Europe to the vineyards of the New World. In turn, the grapes such as Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Riesling are the standards of fine wine in both Worlds, likewise are winemaking styles such as Port and Sherry.

Yet beyond the borders of France, Germany, Spain, and Portugal, some regions winemaking traditions that predate most of what we consider "Old." Modern countries such as Greece, Turkey, and the Republic of Georgia have centuries of traditional wine styles using a host of indigenous grapes that rarely leave their homelands. Little-known grapes like Agiorgitiko (Greece), Bogazkere (Turkey), and Saperavi (Georgia) are consumed locally but are also capable of producing red wines of a quality that can rival "classic" regions of Europe.

Within this "Ancient World" of wine producers are also countries who are new to the modern wine world but have a wine culture that dates back centuries. Holy Land countries like Israel and Lebanon are home to some of today's best labels and wine styles. Chateau Musar of Lebanon is famous for its unique Bordeaux-inspired red blends. Israel has also gained an international reputation for quality wines, with or without Kosher designation. In both these cases, "Old World" grapes have made their way to Ancient lands that produced wine long before Europe had its first vines.

While I have yet to visit the wineries in this part of the world (and I stress "yet" - a wine tour of Georgia would be fun!), these wines are are very food friendly and are the perfect match for ethnic dishes of the same area. Roasting an herb crusted lamb? I did last week and had an Agiorgitiko (the "g" is pronounced like a "y" - yes, it's all Greek to me too). Want to revisit the multi-cultural mezze I made a few weeks back? A Calkarasi/Bogazkere blend from Turkey is a perfect Pinot Noir substitute. Caviar on crackers? Well, maybe a bit too rich for my blood, but Rkatsitali-whites are surprisingly great sushi wines.

It's just a summary of a long overlooked wine region of the world, but remember that every wine journey begins with a single sip.

A Libation for the Nation

If you happened upon my store last Friday, you may have had the chance to sample a caipirinha. Made with lime, sugar, and a rum-like spirit called cachaca, the caipirinha is the national drink of Brazil and is cosumed everywhere by most everyone. This led me to think if Brazil has its caipirinha, Chile its pisco sour, and Cuba its mojito, as Canadians this Canada Day, what would be our national libation? If we were to go Rio, would we pour the Brazilians a Tim Horton's double double?
The first libation that comes to mind that has intenational recognition is, without a doubt, our icewines. Consistently cold winters, strict regulations, and quality grapes such as Riesling or Vidal make the icewines of BC and Ontario our "signature wine." Amazing as these wines are, how many of us as Canadians have icewine on a regular basis? Furthermore, dry table wines from Chardonnay to Shiraz have won international competitions, but we've yet to highlight a single varietal as our "national wine."

Despite the successes of our wine industry, beer remains the overall libation of choice across the country. However, with the growth of the craft brew culture, gone are the days when 2 - 3 domestic brands dominated our market. Instead, we now have a plethora of styles and flavours produced in small batches suited to the local markets. For example, we here in BC love our beer hoppy, so IPAs and ESBs are the dominant style. Further east, a pale ale suits the palate fine. Not to mention the great seasonal variety of summery hefeweizens and wintery spiced ales and everything in between makes it difficult to pick just one style of beer reflecive of the Canadian palate.

Speaking of regionality, the choice of favoured spirit also changes from province to province. The vast fields of the Prairies make rye whiskies the prerred drink in Alberta and Saskatchewan. On the other hand, trade routes dating back centuries have resulted in rum being the top spirit in Newfoundland.

In the end, as unifying as a caiprinha may be for Brazilians, I think the lack of one "libation for the nation" celebrates the diversity of our Canadian community. From pyroghies to poutine, this July 1st, raise a glass to Canada's National Libation: whatever it is you choose!

Are You a Viognier Virgin?...

It can be argued that the rise of the popularity of Pinot Grigio came about as a reaction to the popularity of Chardonnay. Big oaky and butter was replaced with light, crisp, and refreshing whites; a perfect pair for the patio or with a light meal. Over the past year, however, we've seen a trend towards "the new white:" Viognier. While Pinot Grigio still remains the favourite white in our market, the popularity of Viognier is starting to take off.

If you are a Viognier virgin, the first thing to point out is probably how to pronounce it: vee-oh-nyeh. The traditional home of vee-oh-nyeh is the Rhone Valley of France, where it is often on its own in the north or blended with other varietals in the south (namely Roussane and Marsanne - good names for twin girls, by the way). One unique aspect of Viognier from the northern Rhone is that it is one of the very few white grapes to be blended with a red grape, in this case Syrah. As a result, Australian winemakers have become quite adept at offering delicious Shiraz-Viognier blends.

On its own, however, Viognier offers the weight and texture of a Chardonnay but a fresh and attractive palate like a Pinot Grigio. Typically, Viognier has a lilac-honeysuckle florality to it balanced by herbaceous undertones. Be forewarned, though, that as a warm climate white the alcohol levels of a Viognier tend to be around 13 to 14%!  Outside of France, Viognier grows well in areas that share a similar hot, dry climate as the Rhone Valley: Chile, Australia, California, and even here in British Columbia.

Of course, no article on this blog would be complete without a food recommendation. What inspired me to write this entry was my dinner the other night. I accidentally thawed turkey cutlets instead of beef, and feeling a bit middle-eastern I grilled the turkey in a Morrocan-inspired marinade (tumeric is the key, but don't forget your 5 c's: cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, coriander, cilantro). The florality of my Chilean Viognier stood up well against the spicey complexity of the marinade, and the full-body/high-alcohol stood up to the intensity of flavour that comes with grilled meats.

In the end, I've had my share of Viognier before (sometimes on its own, sometimes blended with friends), but in this case, it was nice to loose my Viognier virginity once again. 

The Age of Spirits

During one of life's interludes when, as any good child would do, I moved back in with my parents in my early 30s, I stumbled upon an open bottle of rye in my dad's cabinet. Rich, wam, and smooth, I complimented my dad on his choice of rye. To my surprise, he had no idea what I was refering to until I showed him the bottle. Turns out, it was a gift bottle from 1978 that he had completely forgotten about (even with a move from Toronto to BC!).

What strikes me about this incident was how well-balanced the spirit was despite having been originally opened so many years ago. While spirits in my cabinet don't seem to stay quite that long, something can be said about the gift of an aged spirit; a gift that can keep giving, if you will.

Premium spirits are libations that are intended to be enjoyed in small amounts without the added benefit of a soft drink. The added advantage of a premium spirit is that most are exposed to oxygen during their aging process. As with a tawny port, madeira, or oloroso sherry, an aged spirit will be virtually indestrucable once open because of this early oxygen exposure.

Different spirits have different aging requirements as set out by local legislation. Here are some examples of classic aged spirits - and of course, great ideas for Father's Day!

COGNAC/ARMAGNAC: VS - 2 years (1 year for Armagnac); VSOP - 4 years; XO - 6 years

SINGLE MALT WHISKY: Minimum 3 years (but 8 is common). An age on the bottle indicates the minimum time spent aging in barrels.

RUM: No minimum, but as with Single Malts, the age on the bottle represents the minimum. 1 Year aging in tropical heat, however, is equivalent to 3 years in cool-climate Scotland.

TEQUILA: Reposado - 3 to 6 months; Anejo - 1 year minimum

A Multicultural Mezze...

A day off with nothing in particular planned usually means I spend the day thinking about what to make for supper. Further to this, my next day off is a week away so I also need to think of things to make that during the week can be easily reheated or reinvented (a nicer way of saying "leftovers"). Unable to draw one specific meal from my global repertoire, I decided why not make a whole bunch of little things and serve them on one plate. Essentially, I made a mezze.
At its basic form, a mezze is a Turkish term for a meal that comprises of many smalll components, each bringing a different flavour and benefit to the meal. Though close in concept to Japanese kaiseki or Spanish tapas, the dishes of a mezze are all served at the same time on one platter from which diners pick their favourites and dip in an assortment of sauces.
An olio of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean fare, mezze is one of my favourite ways to dine as I often have trouble deciding on just one thing to eat (deciding on which wine to have is another story...). Still, my epicurian eccentricities led me to create a mezze that is not just of one culinary style but instead comprises of influences from my varied "homes;" a multicultural mezze if you will.
Represented on my mezze plate tonight are the following:

Krumb Mahshi: Epyptian cabbage rolls stuffed with turkey, bulgher wheat, herbs and spices (cabbage is currently thrives in my rain-soaked garden...);
Horenso Goma-ae: Steamed spinach in a Japanese sesame dressing (I add a Middle Eastern flare by using tahini flavoured with pommegranate molasses instead of soy sauce);
Quesadillas: I fill mine with aged pecorino cheese (rather like parmagiano) and cilantro before pan-frying;
Poulet a la Provencale:  Oven-roasted chicken in a pesto of sage, thyme, and rosemary (all from the garden, of course); in other words, Swiss Chalet two-point-oh;
Feijoada: Portuguese/Brazilian bean dish made with spicy peri-peri peppers and chorizo sausage (pork usually, but I of course subsitute with turkey);
Tabouleh: Bulgher-parsley-mint salad with lots of lemon juice, but since I used all my bulgher for the cabbage rolls, I used couscous instead....quinoa would also have been a fun option;
Kabu no Tsukemono: Japanese "pickled turnip"; I pickled baby turnips from my garden last year in ricewine vinegar, kelp, and rice bran (nuka);
Kaktugi: Korean kimchi made from daikon radish (kimchi stands as one of my favourite foods, and I have to admit that Koreans think my kimchi is pretty fly for a white guy...);
Gado-Gado: Sweet and spicy Indonesian peanut sauce (every mezze needs nuts, so why not branch out?);

With most of my favourite regions of the world covered on this plate, I'm sure you're wondering where New Zealand fits in all this. To finish, I've reinvented afghans into brownie form. As a kiwi can be a bird, a fruit, and a person in New Zealand, an afghan can be a dog, a knitted sweater, or a chocolate cookie made from corn flakes; my dessert is the latter, but thickened with eggs to form into a brownie.

I bet you thought I would say New Zealand would be represented in the wine. Since I've yet to include a Turkish component to what is no longer a classic Turkish dinner (the turkey chorizo and turkey-stuffed cabbage do not count as representing "Turkey"), my wine tonight is a Calkarasi-Bogazkere blend. These grapes are Pinot Noir like in structure as it is light in body with light tannins and an earthy-strawberry character.

So there you have it. A model UN in mezze form. Recipes for all these dishes go to the first person who sends me a comment on this entry!