Several people who read this blog were guinea pigs in our months-long experiments with wine and beer. For their edification, and for anyone else who might be interested, I am happy to provide the final list of drinks we served:
Aperitif:
Gruet Winery (New Mexico) Methode Champenoise, Brut, non-Vintage
Hugues Beaulieu (Cotes de Languedoc) Picpoul de Pinet, 2005
Evan Williams Bourbon in Mint Juleps
Dinner:
Folonari (Veneto) Pinto Grigio, 2005
Castellana (Abruzzi) Montepulciano, 2006
Spaten (Munich) Oktoberfest "Ur-Marzen"
Red Hook (New Hampshire) "Late Harvest" Autumn Ale
Digestif:
Talisker, Scottish Malt Whiskey, 10 Year
Oban, Highland Scotch, 14 Year
Macallan, Fine Oak Highland Scotch, 12 Year
Basil Hayden's Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey
Clear Creek (Oregon) Eau de Vie de Pomme, Barrel Aged 8 years
Clear Creek (Oregon) Williams Pear Brandy
We were really pleased with all our choices, limited as we were by the ridiculous liquor control laws of North Carolina, our budget and our obsessive wish for magnums. The wines paired perfectly with the food, and the brandies paired nicely with the cheese course.
And if any of you are interested in re-sampling, we have a ton of this stuff left over.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Raise the Bar
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Pints Go Marzen In
A few days ago we realized that, while we had spent a fair amount of time trying to choose wines to serve, we had spent relatively little time thinking about beer. We didn't want to be lazy and serve Corona or some crap like that. And while my love and admiration for Yuengling is greater than should be allowable for a mass-produced domestic lager, the committee voted it down. And by "committee" I mean Emerson.
So we toyed around with the idea of serving local craft brews, which fits in very well with our focus on locally produced and sustainable food choices. But while the Triangle actually has a great selection and variety of microbrews, they tend to run close to 10 bucks a six-pack. Add the 75c "corking" fee per bottle if we choose not to get Heinekens from the caterer (like that would even be a choice) and we have another case of the committee voting in the negative. And by "committee" I mean me.
So if you can't go with the oldest beer in the country, and you can't go local, what's left? Seasonal! We're both suckers for Oktoberfestbiers, and a pale lager that's not over-hopped seemed perfect for a late summer / early fall wedding. But with so many craft beers as well as major labels making a beer they call "Oktoberfest", exactly how do you choose?...
Beer tasting! Last weekend Emerson I and trucked our way over to the beer store (a chore, I know), and snatched up every beer labeled "Oktoberfest" or that had some sort of visual aid on the bottle that implied we should be drinking it in October, such as an orange leaf or a scarecrow. And then we sat down in front of the Mets game (watched them kick the Phillies' collected asses, but I digress) and tasted away. With notes!
Almost every beer we tried would have sufficed, since we culled the obvious losers at the store, but we pretty much landed on two. First, Spaten. Made in the traditional Marzen style, it's pale with just enough sweetness to balance out the light hops. It's truly refreshing and a quintessential Oktoberfestbier. (Of course, nothing else in this wedding is German and importing twelve-ounce bottles from across the Atlantic isn't exactly sustainable, but I refuse to dwell upon this fact any longer than this parenthetical statement). Our second choice isn't technically an Oktoberfestbier, though to it's credit it doesn't claim to be: Redhook Late Harvest. A classic American red ale, it was full flavored yet smooth; should be a great choice to go with dinner, especially if the weather is on the cooler side. Also, it's from New Hampshire; the connection should be obvious.
Now, I suppose this also an appropriate time to wax nostalgic over my halcyon days as a study abroad student and my October excursion to Munich and the Hofbrauhaus, a madcap adventure that I'm sure was entirely unique to me and my buddy Adam and that no other college student experienced in the years leading up to, or the years following, that fateful trip where I drank beer out of comically gigantic glasses with 2,000 other American and English college students and which is undeniably the most authentic experience one can possibly have in a foreign country. But I won't mention it, because it has little to do with my big gay wedding 12 years later. Although I am now vaguely inspired to start a new blog all about the utterly unique and unprecedented experiences I had in college...
Friday, August 8, 2008
Labor in the Vineyards of the Internet
Is it possible to get sick of wine? I mean, wine in general and in principle, not a particular wine.
I suppose there are those who have no love of wine, or elevated sensual experiences, or, you know, being alive. I cannot relate to those people. I am certainly not marrying any of them!
In addition to our well-documented quest for the right dinner wine (come over tomorrow for a tasting of the four finalists for Italian White of the Day), we are also planning a wine country honeymoon. So, I have spent many hours - in my predictable, pernickety way - studying all the vineyards and wineries of northern Sonoma and Mendocino counties to lay out an air-tight and endlessly thrilling itinerary.
For someone who lives in his head as much as I do, reading about wine is very enjoyable. It does not compare to direct experience, but the pleasure is not negligible.
Reading about the Vinicultural Areas we'll visit and the neighborhoods within them, and the vineyards of various sizes, various production and farming principles, different ownership schemes - I learned more planning this trip than I ever learned about wine just by tasting (and looking at labels) or studying a book. I learned a lot because I had to make so many decisions about what one could and should experience there.
Now, I have an idea what to look for when we go tasting. I know that in the Green Valley (which is part of the Russian River Valley, which is part of the Northern Sonoma AVA), we'll be tasting Pinot Noir and Chardonnay grown in the coolest, foggiest part of Sonoma. We'll be trying to mentally contrast what we taste with the Burgundian versions of those wines, and looking for the subtle differences among wines produced in a very tiny, somewhat homogeneous appellation.
I know that in the Dry Creek Valley, which is also part of the Northern Sonoma AVA, we will be tasting a lot of Zinfandel, the flagship grape of the area, which takes on an especially balanced and elegant character here due to the unusual combination of cool temperatures and bright sun (there is relatively little fog). We also know that in addition to Zinfandel, many producers are taking advantage of the climate and soil to produce Bordeaux- and Rhone-style wines.
I also know that we're visiting the one winery with a really good-looking owner.
And, I know that Route 128 between our B&B in Healdsburg and our oceanfront cottage in Elk is the Boulevard Champenoise, with sparkling Pinot and Chardonnay being tasted on both sides of the road, amid orchards and sheep pastures. I think that we should schedule our legal California wedding to take place on the same day that we guzzle a maximum amount of Anderson Valley bubbly.
All these words about wine remind me of the numerous studies that prove that expectations about a wine - or beliefs about its price - radically effect the way we taste it. I don't see that as a problem, necessarily, because it means that a good part of oenophilia is mental, and I can enjoy that part right here at my desk, whenever I please.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Beta-Blockers
So I have been to a fair number of weddings this summer. The time it takes me to go from entering the wedding to crying tears of happiness is proportional to the number of days until my wedding, as the various brides and wedding guests can surely attest to. Probably a photographer or two as well. I am increasingly worried for my own pending nuptials.
I didn't used to be like this. I was a cynical, heartless viper when it came to all things treacle*. But now, for the love of God, I am an emotional wreck. I'm even crying right now. Seriously. It's a good thing I have my office to myself. I am truly afraid that I am not going to be able to get through the processional without my face becoming puffy and bloated from the floodgates of joyful emotion. So I need a pro-active solution
I could try yoga or meditation or some other new-agey homeopathic touchy-feely garbage. But not only am I highly skeptical of anything remotely connected to mindful breathing or southern California, that stuff is, like, time-consuming. I believe in the quick fix; better living through modern chemistry. And here-in lies the problem.
They don't make don't-cry-at-your-own-wedding drugs. I know. I've looked.
I suppose social anxiety medicine would work but I know a guy who took propranolol before a public speaking event and, well, let's just say it was less than ideal. So maybe I'll just pop a few xanies right before and hope for the best. It's not like I have to remember anything more complicated than "I do."
*This might not be entirely accurate. Some of you may remember the time(s) when I (theater geek alert!) sobbed uncontrollably when Gavroche was shot. And maybe Fantine. And others. But I did not, I repeat, did not cry during Miss Saigon. A boy must have standards.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Don't Cry Out Loud
Michael and I have a certain problem in common: we are both pretty much on the verge of tears at all times. It takes approximately one drink and the rhythm guitar opening of Love Is a Battlefield to get us seriously sobbing. Our wedding ceremony is destined to be a tear-drenched mess of Terms of Endearment proportions.
Since alcohol won't help, and we've successfully avoided Xanax so far, what can we do to keep the emotional outbursts in check? Aromatherapy? Yoga?
I'm a little bit unsteady right now, just thinking about it! We are strong . . . no one can tell us we're wrong . . .
Friday, February 15, 2008
Large is the Fun Format
Choosing the right wines to serve with dinner is going to be a big challenge. There are apparently two possible directions: serve the best available wine because of the importance of the occasion, or serve the cheapest available wine that will pass muster with your guests (knowing as you do their level of discrimination).
Quality and price are the obvious axes of wine buying, but I would add two more factors: festivity and sustainability. By festivity I mean that the wine ought to look and taste and seem fun and add to the cheerfulness of the day--the "best" wine may be too serious. By sustainability, of course, I mean that the choice ought not to niggle one's conscience by being wasteful of resources.
These factors and my valences as a maximizer (not a satisficer) lead me into a morass of decision-making anxiety and paralysis. I have consulted Jancis, perhaps the world's most respected critic, though her expertise in the highest tier of the luxury market makes me a little distrustful of her bargain selections. Dottie and John are my constant companions at the wine store, but I am woefully forgetful about archiving their columns. All these and many more wine writers responsibly advocate for the reader to cultivate his or her own idiosyncratic taste in unique and surprising wines. Inarguable advice, but it doesn't get us what we need for a wedding reception, and that is a crowd pleaser!
One thing is certain: we can maximize festivity and sustainability (and maybe price) by choosing wine in Magnums. Because Magnums (1.5 liter bottles) have a higher ratio of wine to glass, they are relatively lighter to transport--saving fuel and reducing emissions--and use less materials overall. And isn't there something especially merry about the Magnum? You see that unpretentious big bottle and you think, "There is gonna be some drinkin'!"
And here is one more helpful certainty: political economist and wine expert Dr. Tyler Colman has determined that on the East Coast, it is more "carbon efficient" to drink wine shipped from Europe rather than trucked across the continent from California.
It is good for a maximizer to place boundaries on the seemingly limitless (and therefore oppressive) array of choices. It allows him to focus on such confounding questions as, "Is the Cotes du Roussillon really the world's most exciting wine region today?" and "Can I serve a creamy Chardonnay without losing my wine cred?"
Of course, the one boundary I really need is a deadline.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Signature Cocktail
It turns out that you can spend a good deal of money on alcohol when planning a wedding; and not just the stuff you need to get you through the day. Open bars can be expensive gambits, particularly if you fear being fleeced by the caterer (and I've watched enough Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? to be afraid of being fleeced by
So one of our ideas was to have, to cut down on waste, signature cocktails that our guests could choose over beer or wine. And we are batting around the idea of some decidedly southern drinks like a mint julep or a slow comfortable screw up against a wall. Of course, we can't call it a slow comfortable screw up against a wall, for fear of shocking the more genteel of our guests. We'll gussy it up with a name like, "peach blossom" or some other fruity name that will appeal to the girl-drink drunk in all of us.
And there is something inherently classy in the notion of passed mint juleps on the veranda of a charming southern farmhouse....
