BLOGSCHU

At Year's End

Given that this is my last Music Monday of the year, possibly my last post of 2009, I tried to think of a great closing tune, ideally from a show I'd seen in 2009. It only took a few seconds to think of Luka Bloom.

Back in the Spring after a brief road trip, I took a cab straight from the airport to the Great American Music Hall, by far my favorite SF venue, to meet my husband and friends at the Luka Bloom show. Unusually, the floor was filled with cocktail tables, and somehow my group had scored a table in the front.

I hadn't listened to Luka Bloom in years, and asked myself why several times as I sat ten feet away from the guy, watching and listening as he used his voice and an acoustic guitar to hold a few hundred people rapt for about two hours. Here was a man who has been playing for decades, taking the stage by himself to spill his stories in an intimate, subtle fashion to small audiences, driving a van from city to city to do it over and over again, and after the show, manning his own table, selling and signing CDs, politely chatting with the drunks and sycophants.

At the time I wondered what kept him going, after all these years. It seemed exhausting, and I presumed the scene has to get old, even faster than we do.  And yet here is a guy pushing sixty with no real prospect of getting any bigger, clearly loving what he does.

He closed the show with Sunny Sailor Boy, and asked the crowd to take over the oo-ah-oo-aaah-oo bit throughout the song, and left us singing it for longer than you'd imagine, long after he'd left the stage. I realized he was actually lucky as hell to do what he does, and have an audience who gives him so much in return.

Happy New Year, Gun Bunners! We on Rhinefarm thank you for reading, drinking and visiting in 2009, thereby allowing us to do what we love.  We wish each of you a new year filled with the simple joy of doing what you love too, and finding many occasions to toast to your good company and good fortune.

  

The Art of Scrounge

I was driving home from work, wondering what to make for dinner and on the phone with my best friend.

"What are you having for dinner?" I asked, looking for inspiration.

"Scrounge," she replied. Instantly I had my new favorite culinary term.

No doubt we've all prepared scrounge on numerous occasions, those creative attempts to cobble together a meal from whatever you've got, whether driven by hunger, laziness or lack of funds.

I consider myself a something of an authority on scrounge, particularly given I keep a pretty anemic pantry and freezer. But over the years I've learned you can make some great scrounge if you keep a few basics like pasta, frozen shrimp and garlic in the house. That is the lesson of puttanesca, after all, which is based on the premise that every good (or bad) Italian girl keeps garlic, olives, capers and tomatoes in her house at all times and can bang it out in ten minutes. If there is no garlic, my best shot at scrounge is having cereal for dinner.

The holy grail of scrounge is when you successfully use all the formerly fresh ingredients that won't last another day. Many a famous dish is based on putting leftovers to good use, but that's not quite what I am getting at here; I can toss leftovers guilt-free knowing that dish had its day. I'm talking about making something entirely new.

A recent favorite edition of scrounge began with a carrot and a red pepper. That was it for resources from the fridge. 

In the freezer was a package of cod steaks I'd bought for something else that I'd never made. I had a foundation.

I found a recipe for fish stew that called for  about twenty ingredients I didn't have, but gave me directional instruction.  And so I diced the veggies, and onion, and some garlic and sauteed them in olive oil. I opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and poured a glass for me and one for the pan. The pan got a cup of cold water, and yes, I got one too, and then I added the cod (previously defrosted in the microwave).

At this point I started to doubt myself. It was looking a little bland, given the many herbs and shellfish I lacked for the true recipe. 

Perhaps because I had chosen to use a metal paella pan for the saute, I was inspired to add a pinch of saffron, and the last handful of arborio rice in the bottom of a box.  That did the trick, and I was so happy with the end result, I'm thinking I need to make this again, intentionally next time.

Made any good scrounge lately?

You can't be twenty

Last Monday we welcomed Marina Mayer to the Gun Bun team as the new fearless leader of the crew in our tasting room. Since her responsibilities now include making daily selections from the ipod that the keeps the crew and customers hopping, it seemed fitting that she select this week's Music Monday track. And because her job is to think on her feet, I gave her no warning and no time to think - quick, first song to come out of your mouth.  Nice to see she's in a happy place - how can you not be if the tune in your head happens to be Sugar Mountain? Come pay us a visit and introduce yourselves to Marina!

Homemade Biscotti for Breakfast

Last night was the winery's annual staff 'white elephant' holiday party, an event near and dear to all our hearts. The $20 white elephant gift pool is legendary, the stories of hilariously appalling gift contributions and good-natured theft of choice items among colleagues and family are an ingrained part of the winery culture. 

While I greatly appreciate the bathtub basketball hoop I scored, perhaps the most valued gift of the night (certainly ranks higher than the snugglie) is the effort the Bundschu women, Liz, Nancy and Gigi, put into throwing this party for the staff. They open their homes, decorate, and prepare all the food for fifty employees.  As you can see, they put together a pretty fabulous spread.

This morning, I was delighted to find a cache of Liz Bundschu's homemade biscotti had survived the festivities. If I hadn't heard her telling the story of making them at home with her daughters, I would have assumed she'd bought these at a local bakery. Not only do they look perfect here alongside my morning coffee, I assure you they taste even better. I may never be satisfied with biscotti again if it isn't freshly made, what a huge difference from the rock hard store-bought variety.

Liz B's Anise Biscotti

1 3/4 cups sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
4 large eggs, room temperature
4 1/2 cups all purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup brandy
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup whole almonds, toasted (can use purchased dry roasted, unsalted almonds)
3 tablespoons aniseed
1 cup chopped dried cranberries (optional)
1 cup dry roasted pistachios (optional)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 2 heavy large baking sheets with foil or silicone baking mats. Beat sugar and butter in large bowl until light and fluffy. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix flour, baking powder and salt in medium bowl. Combine brandy, almond extract and vanilla extract in glass measuring cup. Add dry ingredients and brandy mixture alternately to sugar mixture, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Stir in almonds and aniseed. Can also add 1 cup chopped dried cranberries, 1 cup dry-roasted pistachios, and anything else your heart desires.

Drop dough by spoonfuls onto prepared baking sheets, forming two 2-inch-wide, 13-inch-long strips on each sheet. Moisten fingertips and smooth dough into logs. Bake until golden and firm to touch, about 40 minutes. Transfer sheets to racks and cool 10-15 minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 300°F. Transfer cooled logs to work surface and using serrated knife, cut logs on diagonal into 3/4-inch-thick slices. If they break too much, try different knives until you achieve success! Arrange slices on baking sheets.

Bake cookies until dry and slightly brown, turning every 10 minutes, about 40 minutes. Transfer to rack; cool. (Can be made 2 weeks ahead. Store in airtight containers at room temperature.)

If these trees could talk

You who have visited the Gundlach Bundschu tasting room since September 2009 may have noticed a new bottled product on our shelves, having little to do with Bacchus’ juice. Rhinefarm is now producing estate olive oil. There is a slight printing error on the front label – it reads “extra virgins”; not sure how that ‘s’ slipped in there…

We certainly are not the first winery to produce olive oil, in fact for years we purposely avoided its production because it seemed so trendy. Boutique olive oil has reached a ‘tipping point.’ And besides, we are practical farmers. Some years ago, while traveling through Spain researching the vineyards and wines of the Tempranillo grape variety, which we grow here on Rhinefarm, we took a side trip to Spain’s olive oil growing region. Mile after mile of olive trees stretching over hill and dale. Picture the endless wheat fields of eastern Montana and Colorado, except not flat. No way could the US ever hope to compete with Spain, not to mention Italy, Greece, etc.

In addition to our recognition of too much entrenched foreign competition, we conceded another practical fact. It is true Rhinefarm has many mature olive trees already growing amidst the vines and around the winery. They were in fact planted by Charles Bundschu, making them well over 100 years old. They have been left unattended for years, growing rangy with too much dead wood and too tall to harvest with anything but a sky hook.

These anti-olive oil production sentiments dissolved one morning when Jim Bundschu arose with the thought that his time was underutilized. He would revitalize the trees that his great-grandfather had planted.

Using hand shears and a chain saw, he lopped off upper branches from each tree until there was just a skeleton of lower branches. Now the trees could be harvested with the aid of a 12-foot ladder.

The first modern olive harvest on Rhinefarm was on November 7, 2007 – a whopping twelve gallons. In 2008, the trees produced 15 gallons, and this December 3rd, the trees gave up enough olives to produce 35 gallons. Things are looking up.

After three harvests we have found there seems to be a larger vintage variation in our olive oil than in our wine, whether due to vintage or the expertise of the farmer is unclear. In 2007, the oil reflected black pepper flavors, 2008 a walnut character and this year, the oil at only four days old seems to exhibit both characteristics.

Our favorite way to evaluate any olive oil is to drizzle it on freshly cut leaves of butter lettuce and a bowl of plain spaghetti, nothing more. Unless you count the bottle of Gundlach Bundschu Pinot Noir to satisfy any unforeseen thirst.

Thankful for Potlucks and Great Friends

I am so grateful for friends who cook. For over a decade, my Thanksgiving has been a potluck with the same small group of friends, plus a changing handful of visiting friends and family each year, all of whom have a deep abiding love of food and wine. The host takes turkey duty, and then it goes wild from there with a fairly undisciplined assignment of courses.

As you might imagine, my job always includes a few bottles of GunBun Gewurztraminer. That little eccentric wine gets it's fifteen minutes of glory every November, this year with everyone from the local paper to Gary Vaynerchuck singing its praises as the ideal wine to pair with turkey. Not that I would know, actually.

This year I brought three bottles to dinner for eight. By the time the bird came out of the oven, not a single drop remained.

I can tell you that it paired quite well with a hugely diverse array of appetizers, but one in particular knocked my socks off.  One of my dearest friends brought what she calls "squash pita," made from her greek grandmother's recipe (which yes, I need to get for us all). Think spanikopita, but roasted butternut squash instead of spinach & cheese.

OMG y'all. Imagine a dry gewurz with that squash filling full of allspice and nutmeg. The crisp finish of the wine cutting through the buttery, crunchy filo. It's like the savory alternative to a late harvest gewurztraminer w/pumpkin pie. It is my new favorite Thanksgiving tradition.

Hope you all had a fantastic day sharing lots of Tasty Morsels with your loved ones. Tell us about them!