So sorry I have been negligent on the blog front. I have so much to say but no time to say it and now I go away on vacation with a self imposed no-laptop ordinance.
Much to think about though—
Verasion Finalizing 08 blends Prepping for 09—We are excited 06 Vintage Reserve Label—Very cool thing in the works. Basking in the glory of Deertick. ‘twas a great concert. Getting pumped about Fruit Bats—here on Aug 24th. Seeing Death Cab for Cutie and the Decemberists before then. Continuing to ride my bike And getting excited about watching those guys riding theirs through France for the next three weeks. Wine Bloggers Conference. Do I even qualify?
To get you in the mood, or moods for a few of these things, here are a few vids. Hasta.
Last Sunday, I was inspired to cook a Persian dinner.
I’ve lost touch with an old friend of mine (seriously Mitra, get on FB already), and I have been thinking of her a lot lately, not only because of events in her parents' native Iran, but also remembering her giant Michael Jackson poster and our hilarious attempts to learn the steps from the Thriller video.
I spent a huge amount of my teenage life in the oasis of Mitra’s house, a tranquil place perfumed with rose water and sweet pipe tobacco. Her parents are two of the most elegant, warm and intelligent people I have ever met, who always spoke to me as an adult, and introduced me to Persian poetry, history and cuisine. Persian hospitality is legendary, and this family loved to entertain. I had my first tastes of pomegranates, pistachios, rose water, cardamom and caviar in their home.
On Sunday my improvised menu included pomegranate chicken, simplified with a bottle of POM and boneless breasts, and Persian rice with pistachios. Simple white rice would have done a better job with the pom sauce, but the fragrant rice with a crunchy crust was too good to pass up. I bought rose water intending to make Sholeh Zard, but its too hot to eat rice pudding. Instead, we had rosewater syrup on some Watmaugh strawberries.
I was sad to realize I go through Pinot Noir too fast in my house - the GB Pinot would have echoed the aromas and flavors of rose and pomegranate, but alas, there was none to be had. A bottle of 2008 Gewurztraminer saved the day, adding its distinctive spice to the brown spices in the chicken and complementing the sweet nuttiness of the rice.
My humble approximation of these classic dishes on a gorgeous Sonoma evening was merely the catalyst to a long family dinner, savoring flavors, memories, and each other's company. It is the simple yet profound luxury of the well-shared meal, more than any intrinsic quality or sensory pleasure, that inspires my passion for food and wine, and reminds me not to take a single day for granted.
The genius on itunes just informed me that there is a new Eels album out. The genius doesn't realize I rarely listen to the four Eels records I already own. I figured I didn't need a fifth, but genius inspired me to at least listen through what I already own.
After dedicating an hour-long commute to the Eels back catalogue, I am once again a fan. Don't get me wrong, I've always really liked the music. I just forget to listen to it, perhaps because it isn't the most uplifting stuff in the world.
As you may know, "Eels" is one guy called "E" who is usually a bit of a buzz-kill, but with a sharp wit, and music that often evokes a totally different mood than the lyrics. Tom Waits once called Eels 'a baked Alaska,' describing the contrast. A popular example of that is the first track, Novocaine for the Soul, but I've spared you some of the truly dark stuff. The other tracks I included give a taste of how diverse Eels music is. Truly, that new record could sound like anything, but I hope for E's sake there's some joy in it. If any of you have heard it, let us know what you think. I trust you more than the genius.
As the groundhog is the harbinger of spring, here in Sonoma, the strawberry announces the arrival of summer.
Growing up in NY, I was never a big strawberry fan. They were the Trojan Horse of fruit - appealing to you with a shiny red exterior, but one bite reveals a dry, white & flavorless interior. During the season, you'd be lucky enough to get perhaps one in ten that was juicy and red through. But in general the flavor was a tart red, with a bitter green edge. Kind of like cheap pinot noir.
When I came to California nearly 20 years ago (wow), the $5 pint of organic strawberries became a rare indulgence. Stacked high at the farmer's market or Whole Foods, giving off an incredible perfume, you could usually count on at least eight of ten of these monster berries to be red and juicy. Once in a rare while, you'd get one that would explode with intense flavors and sweet juice, which spurred me to obsessively eat through the whole pint like an addict, seeking its equal.
Mary Bundschu introduced me to Watmaugh strawberries. Until she passed a few years ago, Mary shared her home with the office staff at the winery. During the summer, she would drive out to the strawberry fields at the corner of Watmaugh and Arnold in Sonoma and buy a flat of berries from the Saetern family stand. She'd take a few into her kitchen, then place the rest of the flat in the entryway; an invitation for all to help themselves.
I'd walk by that flat at least a dozen times a day, never able to pass up a bite-sized berry. And literally every single one was always perfect. The ultimate strawberry, every time, better than any candy dish in any office anywhere.
These days I share an office in Mary's old house with Megan Cassady, our Hospitality Manager, who regularly spoils me as well as she does our winery guests. The other day, she was running out to get lunch and offered to bring me back a sandwich. When she returned, she brought a plate (!) to my desk with a handful of tiny, deep crimson strawberries piled next to my turkey & jack. She'd been to Watmaugh field.
San Francisco classic rock station KFOG is pretty good about introducing new music to the nostalgia crowd, and they actually play music during my morning commute. On a recent morning, they told the story of a Portland band that toured the west coast on bicycles, towing their gear behind them. No support vehicle. They pedaled highway 1 from Vancouver to San Francisco, playing in little towns along the way. Until their bikes were stolen in San Francisco. Way to go, SF.
KFOG played a track called Go On, Say It. It is a straightforward and catchy indie rock sound, the lyrics had that indistinct yearning that makes them haunting yet forgettable. But the melody gets stuck in your head immediately, and the guy has a great voice. So when I was still humming it an hour later at my desk, I decided to look up the band to hear a bit more, and check out the crazy biking thing.
The first song on the Blind Pilot website is called Oviedo. That surprised me - an indie-folk band from Portland singing about northern Spain? I must have played it three times in a row, I love this simple little song, the intriguing story, the vivid imagery, and the ache of the vocal. I immediately bought the album. Then I got back to work.
If you, like me, love to talk about food & wine, even when you've just finished a huge meal, please keep reading. This is the first of what I hope becomes a regular Thursday post to whet your appetite and imagination with the recent food and wine experiences of the staff at Gundlach Bundschu, and invite you to share your own experiences and comments.
On a recent sales trip to Texas, I had an incredible meal at The Grove in Houston.
Full disclosure: The Grove’s Executive Chef Ryan Pera is a good friend. I was dining with his lady, and we asked him to surprise us with his choices from the menu of small plates.
Now, I eat out more often than I should admit, and of course I’m a little biased, but I was so impressed that each dish was not only tasty, it was different from anything I’d had recently. From soft-shell crab tacos that were light and crisp with just the right amount of spice, to duck confit pizzette that had hands-down the best crust ever. But the dish that warrants this post was the agnolotti.
Hand-rolled pasta alongside baby vegetables and slices of braised lamb. Perhaps it doesn't sound particularly innovative, but it was simple and perfect - the texture of the pasta, the freshness of the veggies and richness of the lamb made this the most complete and balanced dish of the night. So yummy. And best of all, the wine complemented it perfectly.
Since we had no idea what we were eating anyway, we gave the sommelier free rein as well. I was a bit worried when he brought me the bottle – 2005 Chateau Franc Patarabet, St Emilion. First thought – crap, did I forget to tell him my budget? Second thought – let’s hope we’re not getting the ceviche. But he was far too charming and handsome for me to disagree.
It was abolutely delicious. Beautifully complex with dusty aromas, deep earthy fruit flavors, weighty yet silky. Admittedly a little big for the first plate or two, but with enough acidity and elegance that it was never overwhelming.
Merlot Haters take notice, this was a gorgeous, incredibly food-friendly wine, and it was one of only THREE merlots on the list. There had to be at least 20 cabs, most of which were twice the price and would never have worked with the array of dishes. I firmly believe the best values in the wine world today are merlots. Great merlots are so much easier to find, now that much of the plonk has been weeded out, and it is a travesty that they are an endangered species on most wine lists.
Merlot pairs so well with nuanced meat dishes, like this lamb. And in my opinion, lamb, like merlot, is also pretty under appreciated. It rarely occurs to me to make lamb at home. So the tasty morsel this week is the combo of merlot and lamb, two old friends worthy of more dinner invitations. Enjoy!
INTERLOPER WARNING: Susan Sueiro here, marketing director at Gundlach Bundschu. Jeff has invited me to bring two new regular features to blogschu to share a wider perspective of life on Rhinefarm: Music Mondays and Thursday Morsels.
First, music. Because everything enjoyable in life is enhanced by a good soundtrack. If you've spent any time on Rhinefarm, you know we're into music around here, starting with the heavy bass line emanating from Jeff's office, to the rocking tunes always playing in the tasting room, to the live performances on our outdoor stage each summer. Each Monday, I'll share a song (or two) for your listening pleasure, and together, we'll keep our playlists fresh.
As you can imagine, the winery staff is full of foodies too, and most conversations include some discussion of our recent food and wine experiences. And so on Thursdays, I'll be the eyes and ears of the winery tastebuds, sharing the Tasty Morsel of the week.
For this, our first Music Monday, I'll shamelessly promote the Second Annual Indie Rock show at the winery on June 27th with one tune each from headliner Deer Tick and openers Birdmonster. Let us know your comments on the music here, and we'll hope to see you at the show.
Bacchus had to be smiling recently as he witnessed two distinctly different events that could only happen at Gundlach Bundschu. We recently returned from our annual WOMer (wine club) Revel in Charleston, SC. Shortly thereafter, an apparition of Jacob Gundlach appeared at the winery.
On the 23rd of April, an adventurous group of our wine club members (we limit revels to 60, and it was once again sold out, thank you!) convened in Charleston. Many were veterans of previous revels in Boston, New Orleans and Memphis, but many were first timers. This balance is core to an ancient Bacchanalian axiom: old friends + new acquaintances + wine & fine dining + no responsibilities = … (If you don’t know the answer, hand over your club member card).
Destination on Friday morning was Middleton Place Plantation, about an hour trolley ride from downtown Charleston. A guided tour of the pre-Civil War rice farm culminated by walking through the Middleton Family manor, preserved as though they’d exited just before our arrival.
We learned a great deal of history, but the highlight for some of us non-locals was seeing our first water moccasin slither along the shaded wall of the small rice mill. Our tour guide, who had not seen the snake, wondered what she had said that made us all jump and scramble so.
We found shade and protection from the southern sun in the lunch pavilion overlooking the grounds, shaded by towering oaks. An ample southern buffet was quickly served and the tables were provided with bottles of ice-cold Gewürztraminer along with Pinot Noir and Merlot. Not a glass of sweet ice tea was present, usually a ubiquitous sight at southern lunches, but indeed this was not a typical group.
Just as the crescendo of conversation and laughter was peaking, Ann Caldwell and the Magnolia Singers appeared. She immediately stilled the enthusiastic WOMers with a brief introduction of her Gullah heritage – a local community that has preserved the culture and language of their African ancestors. The group sang us their traditional songs and eventually coaxed some timid members to join the chorus line.
Saturday morning in the hotel lobby we were greeted by belles who instructed us on the rules for a competitive treasure hunt through downtown Charleston. They turned out to be somewhat diabolical, as two of the required items (along with historically significant buildings and paintings) were a palmetto bug, which mostly come out at night, and a urine marker, a device used by the horse-drawn carriages to mark the spot where steeds may relieve themselves, so street cleaners can clean up properly. In both cases, the clues instructed us to find but don’t touch.
After the exertion of the hunt, we adjourned to McCrady’s, the oldest and one of the most respected restaurants in Charleston. Delicious food, graciously served, much devine wine presented by Jeff Bundschu, toasts, no iced tea, and again, much laughter and camaraderie.
Once again, WOMers proved themselves worthy of Bacchus’ praise. This is an adventurous group that enjoys life and wine, and they made those of us from the winery feel proud.
On a totally different note, I’d like to briefly share a story that probably no other winery in America could tell.
A few weeks ago, we received an email out of the blue from Heinz Gundlach. He explained that he is a winemaker in Germany and a relative, as he is descended from the brother of our founder Jacob Gundlach. He and his daughter Sarah were planning to visit San Francisco in May and would like to come see us.
HUH? We know much about the our family tree since Jacob emigrated to San Francisco in 1850, and his diary mentioned his father was a brewer and winemaker in Bavaria, but the details pre-1849 have always been a mystery. Heinz taught us that his great-great-grandfather was Jacob’s brother, making us 5th cousins. Heinz owns and operates the very same family winery started in 1824 by Jacob’s father, David. He produces only 4,000 cases annually, which he personally hand delivers to his customers throughout Germany.
Sparing you all the details of our visit, Jeff has recently blogged about it already, it was an amazing experience to meet a fifth cousin. They spent two days with us in Sonoma, and we are planning to visit them soon at the original Gundlach Winery in the Rhineland. Perhaps some of you WOMers might get there first. Ask him about the WOMer discount….
A few weeks ago, I received the following email from Heinz Gundlach, the sixth generation winemaker of Weingut Gundlach, est 1825, and great-great-great-great-great nephew of Jacob Gundlach, founder of Gundlach Bundschu Winery:
My Name is Heinz Gundlach, I am a winemaker with my own winery in the middle of Germany, right next to the Rhine Valley, established in 1825. One of our ancestors, Jacob Gundlach, was a winemaker too and he emigrated to America in 1856, to take german and french grapes over the ocean, to set up an own winery and to plant the grapes in Sonoma Valley. So our roots are more or less from the same origins. Our winery is still in the same Family Tradition meanwhile with me as the leader and winemaker.
At the beginning of May 2009 my daughter and I are going on a short trip to San Francisco, and on this occasion it would be fine to visit your winery in Sonoma Valley. Please let us know if this is possible.
Surprise is an understatement. We knew Jacob's father had made wine and beer, but we had no knowledge of this distant cousin or his winery. We've long joked that there are no Gundlachs left, that once Charles Bundschu married Jacob's daughter, the Bundschu genes took over the family tree. So we were pretty excited to meet our first Gundlach family.
My whole life, I've known the few photos we have of Jacob Gundlach - the deep set eyes, arrow-straight nose, full beard and severe countenance. Meeting Heinz was a bit like seeing a ghost - same eyes, same nose, but with a broad smile. His blonde daughter Sarah would easily fit in a Bundschu family photo. My dad and I spent a whole day last week showing Heinz and Sarah around Rhinefarm and learning about the wines and history of our German family, becoming progressively more amazed. Six generations on both sides of the family, still farming grapes, making small-lot, hand-crafted wines on two continents. Incredible.
Was flattered to read that Goodgrape cited my recent blog on Art and Commerce. It prompted an in-house comment that it might be nice if relate some of these postings to wine, since in that one (and most others) I didn’t. I am incredulous, but capitulating all the same. After all, I am a vintner….
So consider this a ‘part deux’ of that first post. And the smell of it. Turns out that completely coincidently, I spent all of a recent morning in the Miletus of our little valley, the place that plays a sizable role in much art/commerce wine talk among winemakers in the greater 50 states and beyond. The place was none other than the offices of Enologix. It was a perfect opportunity to taste some very good wines and blatantly, if quietly, ponder the art-commerce-art question specifically as it pertains to wine.
Few in the wine world elicit such passionate debate as does Enologix founder Leo McCloskey. Many say he is a maverick genius for bringing an industry famously (and some would say purposefully) ambiguous in its ability to objectively define quality a tool to do so and then having the cojones to challenge them to use it . Others describe him as a pariah whose efforts will lead to total homogenization of premium wines. In lay terms, Leo and his team analyzed samples of thousands of critically acclaimed (‘90+”) wines, and then developed a proprietary and quantifiably measurable index that will indicate wine’s potential score very early in its life (even as fruit). Winemakers hence can use the analysis, plus his subsequent winemaking input, to gear their process toward making a wine that will achieve the highest possible critical score. At the crux of the debate is how/whether the artistic integrity, individuality and intrinsic quality of wine that is made according the unique vision of a winemaker is eroded when the process is changed to reflect the end objective of producing a wine geared toward achieving a specific, quantifiable critical rating. An argument about the intrinsic quality of a movie-making process that involves adjusting story lines in response to focus groups versus one that is about fulfilling the unique vision of a director would be similar.
As for me personally, 6th generation and all, I have a fairly well-established leaning towards the independently derived. There are certainly exceptions, but in general I gravitate toward art, music, writing, restaurant meal, whatever, to be the specific vision of its creator. If I like, I jump on the bandwagon and become a promoter of the people behind it, and if I don’t, I don’t. Not sure that makes me different from too many people. I was brought up with (and remain attracted to) the notion that wine, at least at our level, is the same in that at its best it absolutely reflects not only the specific attributes of where it is grown, but also the skill, talents and tastes of the winemaker and his/her team.
For many it ends there and it is simple; winemaking is an art. It is ultimately up to the winemaker to make what tastes best to him (and possibly his team), and the market will applaud or not. Any other approach is a step away from true individual expression and towards a MCD (mass common denominator).
As nice as it would be to see things that clearly, I am not quite there. A key aspect of all this is that the wine (the book, the album, etc.) has to be worth someone spending money for. And in our segment of the industry, as much I might like it to be otherwise, it still holds true that the fastest way to confirm value in the mind of consumers is through third party critics. Even if consumers themselves don’t pay attention to them, the people they buy wine from do, and hence the influence trickles down. Critics matter. It would be foolish for anyone in the business of making wine to sell to dismiss an opportunity to seriously increase the likelihood of a good rating without major consideration.
Serious consideration is where I have been for the last decade. I have come to believe that Leo and his team are extremely talented, and truly are motivated by the potential success of current and future clients. I have also come to view the tools that Enologix offers as a very useful gauge of how your vineyards, wines, and taste preferences stack up versus the specific likes of the wine critics. And I begrudge no one for employing them as a guideline to winemaking. All that said, my stake is firmly in the ground as a producer of independently derived, spiritually and sensually fulfilling vineyard reflective wines, and I could never feel right about driving our wine style toward a certain numerical value, unless that value reflected a flavor profile that we determined was ideal.
One last non-wine follow up to the original Art/Commerce post: Adam Lambert, whose version of Mad World I praised in that post for being a union of art and commerce, is still bringing it on American Idol:
Undaunted Courage by Stephen Ambrose: Choked, and then sped my way through this account of Louis and Clarke’s epic cross continent journey. Excellent, even for non- non-fiction readers like me.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy: Always been a genius, and now even hip thanks to the Cohen bros. This is my favorite from him…so far.
heard
Vampire Weekend: These guys stretch me into reliving ska and soukous and my own African dreams. Not bad for white kids from NYC singing about Cape Cod.
Blitzen Trapper: First in a few recent acquisitions having me begrudgingly embracing the sounds of 70’s era folk rock. Saving grace is that these guys are just babies.
Deer Tick: Biased forshizzle, because they are playing GB. But this New England band rocks the alt.folk scene enough to have been a Rolling Stone must see at 09 SXSW
Chemical Brothers: After years of dancing around (and to) CB, but never owning anything by them, I nabbed this latest recording. Nothing better to grind to while burning your way up a steep hill on your bike. Or vacuuming the house.
Death Cab for Cutie: Took me too long to find these guys. This last album really does possess my heart.
