What In The Hell Is A Sommelier?!

At my tastings I encourage questions - and I get lots and lots of them. In my mind they're all valid (no really!) because to me, there's nothing worse than a "wine expert" that won't ask about what he doesn't know because he thinks he should already know. However, some questions are better than others. Hmm, dare I say more intriguing than others. At a recent wine dinner I was asked the greatest question yet...
I was blabbing on and on about quality to value ratios, and seeking out great wines for the price, and finding "hidden gems". Looking back now, I realize how cryptic that must sound. Sorta like a used car salesman saying "just trust me". But until this one night, no one had challenged me to elaborate.
"How do you know what a good wine is?"
I loved this question. I loved it for it's thoughtfulness and it's complexity. I loved it because the person that asked was completely unaware of how profound the question was. I had no idea how good the discussion that followed was going to get.
As I started rattling off a wines' quality criteria, someone in the crowd piped in "yeah, not to mention you like the stuff!"
They were wrong. Dead wrong. But it made for a great segue into the mind of a Sommelier.
I was immediately thrust back seven years ago, tasting and training with the Master Sommelier who became my mentor. There I was, with myriad wine flights in front me, the methods of deduction filling my mind, trying to be so professional. After the first flight was tasted and notes recorded, the question was asked - "which of those was a quality wine?"
I made the mistake of offering up my personal opinion once. Only once.
"Katie Finn, I don't give a good God damn what you think about this wine. This isn't about you. Now, pull your head outta your ass and analyze these wines like a professional."
It was both jarring and enlightening. That was the first time I really tasted wine. That was the first time I understood what it meant to be a Sommelier.
My job wasn't to drink wine like a consumer. My job was to do what the consumer can't. I needed to look at wine subjectively. Was it balanced? Were the flavors integrated? Was it seamless across the palate? Did it have a sense of place? Was it priced appropriately?
Whether I liked it or not was irrelevant. I wasn't the one buying it. All of a sudden I saw the bigger picture. There was someone out there that would like this wine... my job became deciphering whether or not it was worth what the producer was asking and if it made sense on this particular wine list.
Over the years, this concept of keeping my own personal preference away from my profession has become almost a joke between me and my friends. As we have all discovered, what I like will most certainly be the most unpopular wine at any gathering. It seems I have a real affinity for "stinky wine". Now, imagine if the only wine I ever placed on a wine list was wine that I liked? I'd better have a high corkage fee or I'd be out of business really fast. If you've ever been to one of my tastings you'll notice one common thread. Every wine I serve will be diametrically opposed to the last. If I start with a light fresh and crisp white, the next will be a full bodied, creamy oaked white. The method to the madness is simple - if all the wines drink in the same style and you don't like one - you aren't going to like any of them. Everyone's palate is different. Everyone has varying degrees of sensitivity to things like sweet, bitter and salty. My goal is to make everyone happy. Or at least not piss everyone off.
I was lucky. I learned from a Master who truly understands what this title represents. This position exists for people who love wine. It exists so the consumer doesn't get ripped off (ideally). We are matchmakers. We find the right wine for the right person. We save you time, money, and the frustration of another disappointing bottle. We offer up wildly new and exciting bottles from grapes you didn't even know exist. And we will happily give you your security blanket bottle of Cabernet.
I am lucky. I love what I do.
Now, sit back, relax, and just trust me.

Because Cooking Is Good For The Soul..

So I've never posted a recipe before. Mainly beacuse this wasn't meant to be a foodie site, but focused on wine knowledge and the occasional ranting. However, I uploaded a photo of my dinner last night, only because it looked so tasty, and I received several comments requesting a recipe.
So here it goes...

Greek Lemon Chicken with Patates

1 package of chicken thighs
1 package of chicken breasts or drumsticks (whichever you prefer, although I have to say anything with skin and bone is going to be MUCH more flavorful )
6 cloves of crushed garlic
2 tablespoons of butter
1/2 cup of olive oil
Juice of 3 lemons
Zest of 1 lemon
2 teaspoons of cinnamon
1 tablespoon of oregano
Baby red potatoes quartered with skin on ( I count on 2 per person)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Season chicken liberally with salt and pepper.
Heat oil in a skillet and brown chicken on all sides.
Once browned, place chicken in a glass baking dish.

In a medium bowl mix together the olive oil, lemon juice, zest, garlic, and oregano. Mix well and pour over chicken. Top with butter and cinnamon.

For the potatoes:
I quarter them, place them on a baking sheet, drizzle them with olive oil, salt and pepper, and broil them on high while I'm browning the chicken. Once the chicken goes into the baking dish, I pull out the taters and throw them into the dish with the chicken.

Cook in the oven for about 20 minutes or until the chicken feels done. Make sure to baste with pan juices during the cooking time.

I served this with the De Tierra "Tin Man" Chardonnay from Monterey. An unoaked Chard that rekindled my love affair with this poor little bastardized grape. It reminded me of what Chardonnay is supposed to taste like once you strip away all the winemaker manipulation. Gone are the flavors of butterscotch, toffee'd popcorn, hot butter, and toasted hazelnuts. This may sound good in theory, but really people,  do you want your wine tasting like a county fair midway? Hitting your palate like a gallon of maple syrup? I know how wildly popular this style is, and far be it for me to tell someone not to drink what they like, but I just don't dig it. What I crave is crisp and fresh with aromas of Granny Smith apple, Anjou pears, a little flinty minerality... oh yeahh. This winery was just named "Winery of the Year" by the San Fransisco Cronical and Wine Enthusiast Magazine. The winemaker, David Coventry, has an unyielding passion, and a huge commitment to organic farming. He makes a piddly amount of wine, and is obviously not in it for the money or notoriety. Here is a winery without ego or pretense. In case you couldn't tell, I really like these guys.

There you go. Grab a bottle of De Tierra goodness, whip up some Greek Chicken, and tap into your inner Julia.

Here's to your health

This Wine Reminds Me of a Cat O' Nine Tails

Sophisticated and balanced with a hint of pretension.
Elegant and silky with a feminine nuance reminiscent of the old west.
Forward and brazen with a left hook that will leave you speechless.
Seriously? What does this mean?
As an avid "reviewer" of wines, which, let's be honest, means I get to drink for a living, I am continually perplexed by this verbiage. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but it confuses the hell out me. I look at it this way: wine is a lot like art and music. It is plagued by critics trying to one up each other in a verbal assault of describing tangible items in a way that sound human and mysterious.
I'm guilty of this too. I've been known to describe certain Napa Cabernets as "teenagers at prom ready to give it up on the first date". Not the most tactful way to describe a wine, I know. But you get the point.
Words like fleshy, sexy, demure, and overt are a wine writers way of reinventing the wheel and keeping it interesting.  Who wants to read the same old descriptors of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc over and over? Gooseberry, cat pee, fresh grass, blah, blah, blah. How many times can one read (or write) about caramel, butterscotch, and toasted oak? The flavor profiles haven't changed - the times have.
But back to the question - what does a "sexy wine" mean? How does wine "dance across your palate?" It's so hard to interpret descriptions that have nothing to do with fruit. How would you describe an apple? Would you say it was crisp and tart with a little sweetness on the finish. Or would you say it was sassy and flirty with a voluptuous side. Are they one in the same? I am told more often than not by people clearly frustrated with a nouveau wine culture, that they don't know how to "talk wine". They can't relate.
In this profession, I made it my mission to make wine less confusing, more approachable, easier to understand. Does that mean what I say then has to be boring or predictable? I think we can have it both ways (pardon the pun). Nothing says we can't get frisky with our descriptors as long as we can back it up with something quantifiable. As long as we're not turning wine writing into the equivalent of  Fredericks of Hollywood without real knowledge to back it up. A bra stuffed with toilet paper will be discovered eventually.
At my tastings, as much as I put on a show, most of my entertainment value comes from true historical facts that I couldn't possibly make up. I told a story the other night about "Sarah's Vineyard" and Marilyn Olsen. Before this woman could sell her winery in 2001, she had to embark on an emotional three day vision quest, in a teepee, to grant permission from spirits, to sell the joint. Honestly, with a story like that, who needs to use naughty words to captivate?

While I'm on the subject, it should be said that, while writing this I'm drinking an Argentine Malbec that's one part Dolly Parton, one part J. LO. Figure it out.
Cheers!

Calling All Cork Dorks

I'm back from what was, quite possibly, the greatest week ever. I attended the annual Society of Wine Educators Conference in Washington D.C. and ever since I returned home, I've been trying to organize my thoughts to share this experience with everybody. This has proven not to be the easiest task for a couple of reasons. First and foremost it's very difficult to recall the details of a conference dedicated to drinking. When your Wednesday morning looks a lot like most people's Friday night, things can get a little fuzzy.
Believe it or not I can be a relatively shy person, and it's never easy to walk into a room full of people, not knowing a soul, and strike up some sort of meaningful conversation. At least conversation that's interesting enough to keep someone standing next to you so you don't look like that person that no one wants to talk to. Much to my surprise, I had no trouble at all meeting people and making instant friends. I will admit, I had some help in this department. I'd like to take a moment and personally thank Mr. Tony Bourdain. No, he wasn't there, not physically anyway. I discovered early in the trip that all I had to do was pull out "Medium Raw", Anthony Bourdain's latest memoir/culinary rant,  and I no sooner got through one paragraph without someone wanting to talk to me about the book. Voila! Instant connection.
Over the course of 3 days, I met some of the most influential, successful, icons of the wine world. Doug Frost, my mentor and personal hero, Paul Wagner, Michael Weiss, Miss Jane Nickles, Laura Catena, Jay Youmans, Terry Theise. Now I know these names mean nothing to the average joe, but to me, this was like being a Trekkie and meeting Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner. This was a BIG deal.
Once I got my exam over with and feeling pretty good about it (when it was over I wanted to run into the lobby and scream out "YEESSS!!!) it was time to relax and drink some of the best wine in the world. Only to be made better by listening to the foremost authorities on the subjects at hand.
Everyday from 8 am to 6 pm I was a student again - one of my favorite things to be - immersed in my all time favorite subject. I learned new teaching techniques, heard funny anecdotal stories I will "retell", and was joyously proven wrong on previous food and wine pairing methods. I was forced to rethink my stand on wines from Lodi (thank you Mark Chandler), and was reassured in my stand on the fact that price does NOT reflect quality (thank you Paul Wagner).
When the school day was done, the culinary extravaganza was just beginning. Armed with a laundry list of restaurants and wine bars, I set out to eat my way through D.C.  My "no wine list left unturned" mission had another willing participant... the added bonus of being accompanied by a friend who loves to eat and drink as much as I do (thank you Mindy Reed). After days and nights of extensive "research", I can say with confidence that there is no greater authority on the D.C. restaurant scene than Mindy or myself. 15 restaurants in 6 days people. I rest my case.
The weekend was spent exploring what I think might be the greatest city in America. Arlington Cemetery made me cry. The Lincoln Memorial restored my hope. The Hope Diamond made me realize I live in a ridiculously affluent area ( I've seen so many huge diamonds that the most famous diamond in the world left me unimpressed?! Sheesh).

I saw Abe Lincolns top hat, Dorothy's ruby slippers, Julia Child's kitchen, and the original Star Spangled Banner. I made my way to We the Pizza, Spike Mendelsohn's new diggs, and can say that the hour long wait for a slice of pizza was the most ridiculous waste of time ever. I can also say that Bill Cosby is right on the money about Ben's Chili Bowl. That was a damn good chili dog.

I met Jeremy Lippman. Who in the hell is Jeremy Lippman you ask? Well, if you ever saw a little movie called Wedding Crashers, he's the character played by Vince Vaughn. I know, I know, you shouldn't believe everything your cute bartender tells you. As much as I thought he was pulling my leg, it turns out to be true. Go figure.
I now have an unyielding passion for a little grape called Touriga Nacional. If you've never had red wine from Portugal, not Port mind you but red table wine, do yourself a favor and get some.
Encruzado and Periquita may be may favorite new summer whites.
I tasted 12 Chateauneuf-du-Papes in a row, only to confirm what I already knew... you never get over your first love.

Now home, a few pounds heavier and whole lot smarter, it feels like a dream. A wonderful, exhausting, drunken, food induced coma.
Can't wait till next year.
Cheers.

There's Already Enough Water in Wine

At every wine tasting there are a few obligatory props that are always present. Cocktail napkins for the messy folks. Paper and pencils for those who keep meticulous wine records, or at least want to look like they do. Dump buckets, and water pitchers. The dump buckets, I find, are either the one thing at the end of a successful tasting that need not be washed or they need to be emptied every 10 minutes and are accompanied by an overall aire of discontent.
The water pitchers are the real bone of contention here. They are a necessary evil at a grand tasting (Grand tasting meaning that multiple vendors are peddling their hooch). At these events the probability that you will switch from white wine to red wine and back to white wine are more than likely. It is always encouraged to go back and "revisit" a wine you liked. There is a chance of intoxication, where you may in all likelihood, forget that you hate port, only to consume 3 different samples of it before wanting to go back and taste that New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. All of these reasons make water pitchers a viable tool.
However, in reality, the water pitcher is the most over used (read: abused) item at a tasting. Every time you "rinse" your glass, you are diluting your next taste of wine. Every time you leave water in your glass you are changing the dynamics and texture of that wine.
I previously posted that wine pourers, for the most part, know what their doing. We won't serve you an Australian Shiraz followed by an Italian Pinot Grigio. We wouldn't think of pouring that Napa Valley Merlot before you've tasted the French Pinot Noir. That would be cruel. Believe it or not, we want you to like the wine. All of it. As a matter of fact, we're hoping you like it so much that you can't bear the thought of leaving without 4 or 5 cases of the stuff. It is in our best interest to line up the wines in a way that you needn't do any work. Your job is to taste and evaluate the wines, not to clean the glassware.
I recognize that wine tasting, in a room full of your peers, can come with a certain level of anxiety. Nobody wants to look like they don't know what they're doing. I am a firm believer that that's how many of these "traditions and rituals" are perpetuated (like the old smelling the cork routine). Remember this... there is no instruction book on how to taste wine ( okay, so there is, but who cares ) and wine is, last time I checked, still just a beverage that is meant to be consumed and enjoyed.
So relax, sip your wine, and put the water pitcher down.

10 Degrees of Seperation

Sorry movie buffs, this is not a post regarding Kevin Bacon (although he is fabulous). Rather, this is a post about the number one reason Americans are made fun of. Okay, so besides fanny packs, tube socks, the mullet, Cheesecake Factory sized eating habits and Vanilla Ice. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, we are also notorious for drinking our white wines too cold and our red wines too warm. Living in the desert where average temperatures hover between 100 degrees and the blazing inferno that is hell, the too cold part is almost forgivable. I've long said that I'd rather have my wines too cold than too warm as it's much easier, certainly round these parts, to go up in temperature than down. That being said, there really should only be a 10 degree difference between white wine and red wine. To put a finer point on it, your whites should be about 52 to 55 degrees. Logic would then dictate that the reds should be around 65 degrees.
Usually this concept will evade at least one or two people per tasting I host. Inevitably, I'll hear "This red wine is a little chilled. You're not supposed to chill red wine... are you?" Or my personal favorite - "My wife and I prefer our reds at room temperature. Can you heat these up for us?" No sir, I cannot.
There is method to the madness people. We don't drink anything at the ambient 80 degree temperature at which most red wine is served. Nothing. Hot beverages are meant to be hot... 120 degrees hot. How many cups of coffee have been frustratingly returned to a waitress because they weren't hot enough? Having been a waitress for too many years to remember, I can tell you - it's a nauseating amount. We have this thing called "room temperature" stuck in our brains and we hold tight to it like the gospel. I honestly think that we are so afraid of looking like wine novices, knowing how déclassé it is to put ice in our glass of Cab, that we've convinced ourselves that warm wine is the way to go. I feel obligated to remind folks that "room temperature" was, once upon a time, called "cellar temperature".
In the words of Sophia Petrillo - "Picture it... France, 1725. An old chateau that has already been producing wines for one hundred years. A fair maiden ventures into the depths of the chateau cellar to retrieve a bottle of wine for her master’s dinner. She gets to the bottom of the spiral staircase when, alas, she realizes she has forgotten her fur coat and freezes to death." What's the point you ask? The point is that cellar temperature is not room temperature, and room temperature was never meant to be a wine's ideal setting in Palm Springs in August.

The too cold part of this equation means you are muting the delicate aromas that can only be perceived when a wine warms a bit. When a white is served ice cold, sure, it's refreshing, but it just tastes cold. Forget about smelling the nuances of honeydew melon, jasmine, or lychee nut. With red wines this is where things get a bit trickier. Too warm creates far more problems for a wine than just squashing its aromas. Every flaw is exacerbated. The wine begins to live under a microscope, each taste being a painful reminder of a bad vintage, an unskilled winemaker, or worse... both. All you begin to taste is the heat of rubbing alcohol and the sour bitterness of unripe fruit. Chilling a wine makes an inexpensive bottle far more forgiving and a pricy bottle far more enjoyable.

If you get one thing form this post I hope it's this... do not, under any circumstances, feel embarrassed to ask for an ice bucket to chill down a warm bottle of red wine. I do it all the time. A bottle of wine sitting on a back bar, next to the steam inducing espresso machine and whirling glass washer, is not going to taste the way it should (unless they are keeping that restaurant at sixty degrees, in which case you can't afford to eat there anyway). Now, you may be wondering “So, is it bad to put ice in the glass?” In a word, yes. If you’re serious about the wine you’re drinking, and have paid more than $1.99 for the bottle, you will want to refrain from watering it down. Trace elements in the water supply can also change the dynamics of the wine.
Which leads me into my next topic…

Meritaahhj is not a word

Whenever I give wine lectures or, whenever I can casually throw it into a conversation without looking like a total geek or snob, I love to talk about the word Meritaahhhj. The way it rolls off the tongue. The way it sounds so Parisian, so elegant. The fact that it's an American word and isn't pronounced Meritaahhj at all.
 This is the point in my education series where I usually make everyone raise their right hand and promise, no swear, to me that they will never say Meritaahhhj again. The word actually rhymes with Heritage. Meritage. See?
Now,this is where the story gets funny. You see, back in the day when Napa was just getting started, our founding fathers were hard at work creating red wines blended from grapes that hailed originally from Bordeaux. Grapes that made up the big five were Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petit Verdot, and Malbec. These were, and are, the grapes that go into some of the most prestigious and expensive bottles of wine in the world. These are the grapes of Bordeaux, thus we, here in Napa, were obviously making "Bordeaux blends". The strange thing is Bordeaux (which, just for the record is a place in France) was a little upset that we were using the name of their town to market our wines. After all, they weren't making Napa Cabs so how could we be making Bordeaux blends??
So the task was upon us to create a word that would symbolize what these wines were. Wines that were inspired by French heritage yet, had merit in their own right. Wines that were every bit as good as their French counterpart and utilized the same grapes, yet couldn't be associated with France. Hmmmm. Wines that have merit and reflect their heritage. Hmmmm.
Now what's really funny about this is the whole reason we had to come up with this new verbiage was because we were no longer allowed to make it sound "French" yet the first thing we want to do is make the word Meritage, Meritaahhhj. Oui n'est-ce pas?
From this moment on you will promise me that you will never utter the word Meritaahhj again... Je comprends?
Bon.

But I'm Allergic to Wine...

I have a love-hate relationship with being a pourer at wine tasting events. On one hand, there is nothing in the world I love more than having a platform, and a captive audience, to share my passion and enthusiasm for wine. I get a thrill seeing the expression on someone's face when they try a wine for the first time and they love it. They didn't even know something like this existed and yet they can't get enough of it. I, in turn, get to "geek out", filling their head with a ton of useless information about the history of the grape, how it's cultivated, and the wars, political upset and economic devastation this little vine has endured. I have goosebumps as I write. I live for this stuff.
On the other hand, there is my worst nightmare. Right there, in the floral blouse and rhinestone glasses coming at me like a heat seeking missile. I am about to be inundated with stories of how "certain wines" affect her bowels, give her a rash and, come back up. Most cultures (and doctors) would call this a hangover and not blame the poor bottle of wine, but rather the copious amounts consumed. But just like saying Bloody Mary three times in the mirror causes instant death or blindness or something, there is a horribly perpetuated myth about wine allergies. Number one culprit... Sulfites.
Ahh yes, sulfites. It wasn't long before little miss rhinestone glasses informed me that she can only drink French wine because there aren't any sulfites in French wine. She went on to inform me that there really weren't any sulfites in Italian wine either, but she just didn't care for them as much. On the rare occasion I'll feel feisty (and well rested ) enough to challenge this ridiculousness. But the truth is most folks don't want to hear it. They have convinced themselves that somehow, what they are experiencing is an affliction to the most common preservative in the world.
The fact is, there are more sulfites in a glass of orange juice than there are in an entire bottle of wine. Bacon, onions and garlic, pickles, jams and jellies, cookies and potato chips, on and on and on... Chances are if you are one of the truly unfortunate people to suffer from a sulfite sensitivity, this shocking revelation did not come to you last Saturday night because you downed a glass of California Cab. You've probably known it since birth, and hated every minute of it.
So, why do people think these European countries are sulfite exempt? Simple. The U.S. has stupid labeling laws. Just like we are required to let you know that alcohol consumption is bad for pregnant women and might impair your ability to operate heavy machinery, duh,  we are required to let you know that sulfites are present in an almost undetectable amount. 10 parts per million to be exact. (FYI: the booze sulfite maximum  is 350 ppm). Here's the real kicker - sulfites happen naturally! They are a perfectly normal bi-product of fermentation. The addition of So2 to wine happens for the same reason it's put into anything else. To prevent bacterial growth, browning and oxidation. That being said, if you really truly believe that sulfites are inhumane, drink red. There are waayyy more sulfites added to white wine than red wine because white wine will turn brown without them.
Now, I'm not a doctor. I really shouldn't go around diagnosing people and their wine aliments... but I do. So here it is. This is why you get a rash, headache, stiff sore muscles, and a stuffy nose. Drum roll please (pprrrrrrrrrrrr) Histamines. Yup they're present in wine. About 100% more prevalent in red wines than white. Tannin, the astringent, mouth-drying element in wine, can also produce allergy like symptoms but again, if you have a sensitivity to tannin you knew it the first time you ate chocolate, soy sauce, or drank an overly steeped cup o' tea.
The irony is that I can relate to wine allergies. Yes, I too suffer from a histamine reaction to wine. Stuffy head, sinus pressure, the whole shebang. However, instead of divulging my nasal issues with a poor defenseless wine pourer, I simply take a Claritin and call it a day.

Here's to your health... literally.

Vive La France!

I'm always surprised at how many people hate the French. I mean sure, there was that whole anti Iraq war thing and they themselves have expressed an unprecedented amount of Anti-American sentiment. Maybe folks resent the fact that Johnny Depp moved there and Jim Morrison is buried there. Whatever your feeling, we can't deny that the French have contributed to society. Historically, I cannot dismiss the entertainment value that must have come from countless aristocrat beheadings. And then there's the artists that single-handedly gave us the Impressionist movement (and the Rococo but that was just a bunch of silly nonsense.) Then there's the food. I'm not talking about French, er, Freedom Fries here, I'm talking about the greatest of the French food gifts... foie gras, escargots, lardons, crepes.
Then there's my most favorite of the French contributions - wine.
So I tried to think of my favorite French wine to write about. And I couldn't. Then, I tried to think of my favorite wine region to write about. And I couldn't do that either. The more specific I tried to get, the more I realized that I have a love affair with most all French vin. From the easy to drink, summer wines of Provence to the complex, mysterious wines of Bordeaux. The masculine, hearty, almost gamey wines of the Rhone to the profound whites of Alsace and the Loire. Then, there is of course the holy grail of French wine... Burgundy. These are the Princess Diana wines. No, she didn't make them famous by drinking copious amounts of the stuff, I just have a habit of thinking about wines in terms of people. These wines remind me of the late HRH because the wines of Burgundy are an anomaly. The older they get, the more beautiful they get. They are graceful, elegant and feminine, yet have amazing backbone and strength. They are misunderstood and complicated, but when you get to know them, they become intriguing and endearing.
French wines in general don't appeal to the American palate and it's easy to understand why. America has always been a Jack and Coke, Budweiser, Stoli martini kind of nation. So when we picked up on this new wine culture thing, we simply substituted our cocktails for a glass of wine. A big, overwhelming, highly alcoholic, glass of wine. I like to call these "cocktail party wines". These are the wines that will get you just as schnokered as that Cosmo but be twice as filling. And more important than that... they don't need food.
French wines serve a different purpose. They are meant to be consumed daily, all day and not get you knee-walking-commode-hugging-drunk. They are meant to make food taste better. Conversely, the food also makes the wine taste better. There is a marriage between the wine and the food, that we here in America, are still trying to figure out. Don't give up mon petit winos. Your palate with wine is like your palate with food. The more you taste, the more you'll discover flavors and sensations in wine will grow on you. Remember as a kid when you hated peppers and onions and anything green or squishy? Somehow you grow up and you can't imagine not eating those things or cooking with those things today.
So, in honor of Bastille Day, which also happens to masquerade as my birthday, the plan is as follows:
Open a bottle of Bollinger and drink with friends.
Eat some cavier.
Open a bottle of Natter Sancerre (Sauvignon Blanc) and drink with friends.
Eat some escargots.
Open a bottle of Domaine Tempier Rose and drink with friends.
Eat some fois gras.
Undo button on my pants.
Open a bottle of Vosne Romanee (Pinot Noir) and drink with friends.
Eat some morels.
Open a bottle of Lafite Pauillac Rouge and drink with friends.
Eat some duck confit.

Be put to bed.

Happy Storming of the Prison Day, France!

The Wine List - Friend or Foe?

I started Great Legs Wine Consulting because I saw a desperate need to make wine accessible, and more importantly, an enjoyable experience. I see so much pretension and snobbery associated with wine, and I'm exhausted by the endless game of one upmanship . Sadly, I find this perpetuated, more often than not, by restaurant wait staff.
One of the most common fears people share with me is the moment they are handed a wine list in a restaurant. Overwhelmed with choices, most of which they have never heard of, with over-inflated prices. I find that the fear is not so much in choosing the "right" wine, but more so about choosing the "wrong" wine. It doesn't help that the waiter gives you about 2.5 seconds with the list before coming back to the table, pen in hand, wanting to know if you've made a decision. I can tell you that I have been a guest at many a restaurant where the waiter is obviously less than impressed with my choice... and I'm a Sommelier! Herein lies the kicker... it's on their list. They are responsible for representing it, and if it's so awful as to garner a snide remark or a scornful glance, that should be their problem, and don't you forget it.
 I know of several restaurants that no longer offer White Zinfandel but instead feature a sweet Riesling by the glass. Although I don't entirely agree with this, I at least have to respect the fact that they don't want to represent a wine they don't care for. On one hand they are trying to educate and help people develop a more sophisticated palate. On the other hand, what about the little old lady who just wants a stinkin' glass of White Zin? But that leads us to the second problem facing not just wait staff, but restaurant wine buyers as well... it's not about them. This was single-handedly the most important lesson I learned form the Master Sommelier guiding me. Just because I didn't like it didn't make it a bad wine. And just because I thought something was the greatest thing since canned milk didn't mean everyone was going to share that same sentiment. Actually, anyone who knows me and my wine preferences can firmly agree that's, in fact, quite the opposite. At parties I'll catch myself asking "What do you mean you don't like the stinky, barnyardy, smells like a sweaty saddle wine?!?" or "This Pinotage is great! I just love the gamey, animal fur, almost savory component!" The point, as my Master drilled in my head, was to look for the quality and take myself out of the equation. Not easy to do, especially when the wine mantra du jour is "drink what you like". Wine professionals need to remind themselves that this statement only holds true for the guest drinking the wine.
So how do you overcome the fear associated with navigating a restaurant wine list? Short of having a Sommelier on speed dial, these tips may help:

• Don't fight it - Sometimes you have to go with the flow and drink what the buyer likes. For example, if there are 27 different Chiantis on the list, and you're in a Greek restaurant, it should be pretty clear what the buyers passion is. It may not have been your first choice, but you'll end up with a darn good bottle of Sangiovese.
• Know before you go - Many restaurants have websites with the menu and wine list uploaded. Familiarize yourself with the selections in the price point you're comfortable with. If a website isn't available, call the restaurant ahead of time and have a current list faxed to you. This can be invaluable  if you are hosting a business dinner and don't want to be put on the spot.
• Beware of the value pitfalls - Wines served by the glass and "house wines" are often of the poorest quality and carry the highest mark-up. Restaurants with integrity will choose wines by the glass that are beautiful examples of quality and value, but alas these are few and far in between.
• If it grows together, it goes together - Consider the restaurant you're in and order accordingly. In an Italian restaurant, have a Rosso di Montalcino. French cuisine on the itinerary? Look for a Cotes du Rhone or Langudoc. This also makes food and wine pairing a no-brainer.
• When in Rome - Just like you should consider the nationality of the restaurant, also consider the style and genre. Don't order a Sauvignon Blanc in a steakhouse or a California Cabernet in a seafood joint.
• ABC - Otherwise known in the wine world as "Anything but Chardonnay/Cabernet." There's a whole world of wine out there just waiting to be discovered. Some of the best wines out there are from Spain (like a Tempranillo from La Rioja) and Argentina (the Malbec grape is perfect with beef!).

One other tip I should mention that tends to be the pet peeve of many servers is the antiquated procedure of handing you the cork once its pulled. Please don't smell it. Don't roll it around, squeeze it, or put it to your ear. I assure you the cork is going to tell you nothing about the quality of the wine. In fact, I have pulled the cork on several bottles only to find it completely saturated, or conversely, completely dried out. On numerous occasions, I have not only been pleasantly surprised, but blown away at how delicious it tasted. Had I relied on just looking at the cork, I would have missed out on bliss. Proof is always in the pudding.

Cheers!

Wine's Dirty Little Secret

When the going gets tough, the tough get drinking!
Booze is one of the few recession-proof industries. In fact, I think its safe to say that the worse things get the more people imbibe. However, its what they imbibe that changes. With the economy in the tank, even the wealthy mucky-mucks have changed their spending habits. Long gone are the unlimited expense accounts and $200 bottles of wine. So what does this mean for wineries that hang their hat on those uber pricey little gems? They are in one hell of a conundrum. The great debate is what to do with the excess of wine that no one's buying. There's the option of riding it out. Wait until the market rebounds and luxury products become feasible again. Sure, the wine may be old and past its prime by this point, but it just may beat option number two.
Obviously, wineries don't want to sit on past vintages so the decision becomes, "do we drop our prices?" This may seem simple enough... lower the price and move through the product. In reality what this translates to the consumer is "our wine really isn't worth what you suckers have been paying all these years. We've enjoyed having you over a barrel (pardon the pun) and look forward to gouging you in the future."
Enter the red-headed step child of the wine world... the "declassified" wine. These little beauties are winery orphans, the wines that no one wants to claim as their own but gladly reap the monetary benefits. You see, wineries commit to making so much wine a year, many sitting on acres and acres of land that produce much more fruit than what goes into their premium bottlings. In the day's of yore, the "excess" fruit was sold off to wineries that didn't own any vineyards. The next thing you know, you have a little podunk wine, breaking confidentiality clauses, and shouting from the mountain tops "this is Silver Oak Fruit for only $15 a bottle!!" Needless to say, Silver Oak would not be happy about this exclamation. (Even though, in my personal opinion, $15 is still too much for a bottle of Silver Joke, er, Oak). Of course this begged the question, "why should I pay $100 for this bottle, when I can get the same thing for $15?" Well, because it's not the same thing. Not by a long shot. Just because a winery bought the fruit from a famous vineyard does not mean the end result will be the same. Different winemakers, techniques, oak treatment, aging, strains of yeast, etc. etc. etc. The way to solve this dilemma was for the prestigious winery to keep the "excess" fruit and create their own second label. This way, you've eliminated someone else taking credit for your fruit, and skill of your million dollar vineyard manager. You have also maintained a level of quality, and depending on the producer, very few wine making differences between the notorious label and the declassified label.
Now, how do you know you've purchased a declassified gem, a superstar wineries second label? You don't. That was certainly more true a couple of years ago, but it's still the norm for a winery to cut all ties to the second label. You won't find tasting notes or information online and there won't be any mention of the famous winery on the label.  It's almost like the wine doesn't exist. Buahhaha (insert evil laughing voice).
So here comes the greatest incentive to get out and go to wine tastings... Sommeliers live for this. We are waiting to dish the dirt to anyone who'll listen. When we find out about a fabulous bottle of wine that is one-eighth the price of its counterpart, we ache to share the discovery. And trust me on this, we know lots and lots of secrets that you'll want to know too.
It's Saturday night... I know there's a wine tasting going on somewhere near you. GO.

Cheers!

P.S. While I was writing this, I was enjoying a lovely bottle of Caravan Cabernet from Napa. Aren't you just dying to know who makes this?? Buaahaahaa

Open Minds Enjoy More Wines

I'm fresh off a weekend chuck-full of wine tasting events at various venues. Even though the locations changed, there was a noticeable common thread... the people.
I will always be the first to say drink what you like, however that does not apply to tastings. In a restaurant; buying a bottle at Costco; pulling a cork with dinner; sure. But at a tasting that defeats the whole point. The point is in fact to drink what you don't know.
Tastings give us a wonderful and rare opportunity to try before we commit to buying a bottle and hopefully give us insight into wines we have never had, and maybe didn't even know existed. This seems like a logical enough concept, but it never fails... people go right for what they know. Now, don't get me wrong, I'll taste well known wines too. Things change. Winemakers move around, vintages progress, techniques improve (we hope). The difference is I yearn to taste the unknown, so I taste everything from everywhere.
This segues nicely into my next quandary. The folks who tell me they don't drink _____________. The blank is usually Chardonnay, but I've heard just about all popular varietals filled in here. My response is generally this: "Really, you don't drink ___________? From anywhere? In the whole world? I can't blame people for making sweeping generalizations (especially because I make them all the time) regarding personal preferences and their experiences. What I want to convey is that they make wine all over the world, in many, many different styles. That's why there are so many different wines out there. There's something for everyone. Say for example you don't like Chardonnay from California. I'm willing to bet it's because you've had a big, buttery, cloying example that grabs hold of your taste buds and puts them in a sleeper hold. I assure you, not all Chardonnay tastes like that. In fact, I'm willing to say that stylistically, those are probably in the minority. But you'd never know it if you refused to taste a beautiful, clean, crisp Chablis ( from France, not the Gallo jug stuff) because you "don't like Chardonnay".
As a pourer at these events, it's my job to try and educate the attendees not only about the wines, but how to make the most of the tasting. I see so many people trying to exemplify proper wine tasting etiquette and going about it all wrong. Because that's not the most comfortable environment to start asking, with the fear that your peers at the Country Club will snicker and point, I've decided to list some common misnomers and tasting faux pas to set you ahead of the curve. It should be mentioned that those of us in the industry who pour at these things LOVE inquiring minds and gracious guests. Trust me on this and you'll end up with more than that piddly 2 ounce pour in your glass.

1. Do Not Rinse Your Glass Between Tastes.
There is a very logical reason for this. You are watering down your wine. The water that is put out for rinsing should only be used if you are going from a sweet, dessert style wine, back to a drier wine. OR you are going from red wine, back to white. This rule is especially important to adhere to if you are at a formal tasting with one line up of wines. The Sommelier or wine steward has selected the order in which you'll taste these for a reason. They will go from lighter to heavier, each one cancelling out the prior in you glass. You'll never know there was a Pinot Noir in your glass once the Malbec hits it. Trust me.

2. Please Taste In Order.
Just like in my explanation above, the worker bees pouring at an event have lined the wines up for a reason. It is not arbitrary. It doesn't do you, or your palate, any favors by starting with the 16% alcohol Zinfandel, then moving on to the Sauvignon Blanc. If you want to taste everything, table hop, starting with the whites. Then make your way around again for the reds.

3. Please Keep Your Negative Opinions Mum.
I joke around all the time with this one. I'll tell people that I'm not the winemaker, so it doesn't hurt my feelings if you don't like it. But the truth is, it's kinda rude. If you were going to a museum, would you tell the curator that the art in there sucked? It's the same idea. No, I didn't make the wine, but I am there representing it. And any negative comment you make, might affect the person standing next to you that just said how much they liked it. The better (and more productive) conversation to have would be: "This wine is different than what I'm used to. Tell me about it/what makes it unique?"

4. This Is Not A Buffet.
Do not help yourself to a hearty pour. If we are told there will be 50 guests at the tasting, we bring enough wine for 50 people have a taste. Remember folks... this is a "tasting", not a "I'm gonna get falling down drunk off of free wine".

5.Open Minds Enjoy More Wines.
The most important rule. If there is a Gruner Veltliner open, try it. If you see a wine from Slovenia, try it. Had a bad experience with a Pinotage when you were 17? Try it again. No, you're not going to like everything. But you are going to surprise yourself. The point is, these are great opportunities to nurture your sense of adventure and walk on the wild side. Albarino?... yes please!

Wine is about exploration and discovery. Get out of your rut and get tasting!
Cheers! Here's to your health.

Corked or Screwed?

You could say I'm a fairly passionate person. One could also argue that when it comes to wine that's the understatement of the year. So when I 'm asked by a budding wine enthusiast a question shrouded in much debate, I don't hesitate to jump on my soap box.
"Isn't it just cheap wine that comes in screw cap bottles?" "Doesn't good wine need to have a cork?"
Both are very valid questions indeed. Especially given that we Americans are the ones that have perpetuated these myths for eons.
I can answer the first question like this: Just because Two Buck Chuck comes in a bottle with a cork doesn't mean its a great wine. Conversely, if Two Buck Chuck were to come in a bottle with a screw cap that wouldn't make it any worse than it already is. 
I was once asked a long time ago at one of my tastings "Katie, what do you think, cork or screw cap?" My response was easy. Screw cap. Without hesitation, without looking back, I'm all for the screw cap. I'd go so far as to say that if I never saw another cork again I'd be the happiest little Sommelier you've ever seen. You see, corks are a faulty, inferior product. They have a failure rate of around 10% (that's on average due to the fact you'll hear every number from 2% - 18%). Anyway you slice it, they are unpredictable to say the least. I take personal offense to corks given that its my name on the line and my success depends on their perfection. I put it into perspective like this: Let's say you come to me looking for a suggestion on the newest, hippest, hottest new wine. I gladly offer up a recommendation for a wine that is knock-your-socks-off good. You get home with said bottle, dinner cooking away on the stove, friends en route, when you pull the cork and "pee-eww." This is one stinky bottle of vino. You've never had this wine before so you're not sure what it's supposed to taste like, but you are pretty sure the stinky socks should come off before they stomp the grapes. So now what? If you'll pardon the pun... you're screwed. And for that matter so am I. Chances are you'll never take another recommendation from me.  If I think that was a great bottle of wine clearly you and I have very different opinions on what good wine is. In addition, it's pretty safe to say you'll never buy a bottle of wine from that producer again. You obviously don't like his "style". So there you have it. I've lost your confidence and your business, the winemaker has lost you as a buyer and you're dehydrating with nothing to drink with your dinner. Everybody loses.

Here lies the beauty of screw cap. I know what's in that bottle is going to taste the way it should 100% of the time and if you don't like it, you don't like it for the right reasons. Not because you got that 1 fooshy bottle.
Now, on the other hand, I can sympathize with people afraid of this movement. There is a certain loss of pomp and circumstance when a waiter comes to your table and "cracks open" your bottle of vino. But remember, it's what's IN the bottle that's most important.
If it makes you feel any better I'm certain that if Stelvin closures (the fancy schmancy name for screw caps) existed hundreds of years ago we'd be twisting open our Lafite's and Romanee's.
Now go on, get out there. Throw caution to the wind, and your wine openers in the garbage!

In good health.

Not your mama's White Zin!

So I just wrapped filming a segment for a new show that hopefully will air here in the desert. It will focus on wine and food and more food and all the good times that come with eating and drinking. My bit was about Rose, "the misunderstood summer wine". I figured while all is fresh in my head I would share some Rose thoughts with y'all...
Pink wine is no longer shameful. Please don't give scornful glances to people enjoying a cold glass of rose as you pass by them on your way to the restroom. I assure you, unless you are at Applebee's, they are not drinking Mateaus or Boones Farm. I will go so far as to say they are probably not even drinking White Zin. More than likely they are drinking the new "it" wine... Rose. Meant to be dry, fresh, crisp and refreshing I feel the need to explain just what this pink wine is all about.
Rose can be made from ANY red grape and while the process can differ slightly depending on the producer the  idea is the same. It is red wine that is taken away from its skins after mere hours of fermentation. Skin is what gives a wine its color therefore, less skin less color. See? If these Rose's were left in the tank they would soon become your favorite bottle of red. Big, bold, slap you silly, macho reds. In fact in an attempt to give you a bigger, punch you in the face red wine, many winemakers will "bleed" off some juice out of the fermentation tank in the first few hours. Not to produce a Rose, but to increase the ratio of skin to juice. Rose just happens to be a wonderful by-product. Because it can be made using any red grape you like, you'll see Rose's spanning the color wheel. From pale salmon Rose's probably made from Grenache or Pinot Noir to cranberry and pomegranate colors stemming from Malbec or Syrah. However, the most important aspect isn't the color, its the fact that Rose is delicious, dry and goes with any food you can throw at it (seriously, even Mexican food can't throw these crimson beauties off track!)
On the other hand if you're worried about buying the "wrong" Rose my only advice is to steer clear of the Blush wine that comes in a box or a 5 gallon jug. Other than that, grab an ice bucket, throw in a bottle of pink something, fire up the grill and DRINK.
It's that easy.

By the way... while I was writing this I had a glass of CUNE Rosado from Spain in hand and it didn't suck.

I Did It!

I’ve been saying “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna start a wine blog... Tomorrow.” Well, tomorrows turned into yesterday’s and before I know it a year had passed and I had accomplished zip (well at least as far as my technological advances were concerned). I can’t tell you what crawled up me arse today to get me going but I am glad I’m here.
So, in the spirit of my new-found ”can do” attitude here’s my commitment as a new blogger. I will post regularly, I will keep content light but not infantile, and I will not do what other wine bloggers do - for example ”this Shiraz had amazing aromas of blueberry and current…blah blah blah”. If you want to know what it tastes like open the bottle for yourself. If you want the behind-the-scenes, backstage pass, keep reading.
Wine for me is so much more than flavors and aromas. Sure, I’m a flavor craver like everyone else and won’t dispute the power behind sticking your nose in a glass and being blown away, pleasantly surprised, or marginally sickened. That’s fun to talk about, but that’s not all there is.
Stay tuned my fellow wine geeks. I promise to be as controversial as those who know me have come to expect.



P.S. Eating is like breathing to me so you can bet that I'll have lots to say about my culinary adventures. As far as desert dining is concerned I've listed my top 5 "go to" restaurants. Keep checking back... things have a tendancy to change.