Death by Foie Gras

In Manila, I'd say only Je Suis Gourmand serves a decent-sized foie gras with the salad. Elsewhere, the foie gras is almost lost in the greens or is just a miserable sliver on top of some steak. That's why, foie gras is right there at the top of my list of must-eat in France.

First stop for foie gras was the Les Oenophiles Restaurant in Dijon. Its famous chef, Stephane Cattane, described his foie gras as "bloc de foie gras de canard poché dans un vins fruité, carapace épice, condiment orange-carottes" (right photo). Foie gras poached in fruity wine, who could resist?

What arrived was a shocker: The "bloc" was actually 1 inch thick and 3 inches in diameter! In terms of cholesterol content, I believe that's the equivalent of 20x20 inches of lechon skin. And this was just for starters! But who's complaining? I enjoyed it with a Chateau Henye 2003 Tokaji, a sweet wine much like a sauterne.

I swear I met my year's quota for foie gras with this decadent "bloc". But in France, there is no escaping death by foie gras.

Shown above (top photo) is course # 3 in the 7-course degustation dinner at Joel Rebuchon's Atelier in Paris. This was no torchon, but a rich, quivering slice of fat duck liver, pan seared and served in a portion you wouldn't call degustation-size. I thought I'd keel over before I got to the lamb chops!

To think that earlier that day, Poch and I made a trip to La Grande Epicerie to buy that foie gras sandwich that Marketman mentioned here! Enjoyed picnic-style, with a (small) bottle of champagne... yum!

Yes - if it isn't obvious yet - I do love foie gras. Or maybe I just have a deathwish.

Bonjour, Paris!

Paris-Dijon-Beaune in 10 days: To eat what "women who don't get fat" eat and to drink the wines that define "old world".

Either You End Up In the Gutter...

... or too much drinking can land you on the pages of some glossy magazine. My dad didn't warn me about the latter.

(Photos by Noel of eyeonwine for the Philippine Tattler, June issue. More on the Chateau Siran Dinner and featured wines by wine gurus Noel here and Jay Labrador here. My short Homage to Age - the Chateau Siran Margaux 1959! - here.)

Because Wine is Music to the Palate...

… this Martin Codax Albariño 2007 has music notes printed on its cork. Unfortunately, composer and wine buddy Charo Unite (of Lupa and May Bukas Pa fame) isn’t around to read and play it on the piano for me. I don’t read notes and I don’t play any musical instrument, so until Charo comes back from her US sojourn, this piece of music will remain a mystery to me. A Spanish nursery rhyme? A Galician love song?

What if it turns out to be just another advertising jingle for Martin Codax, the most popular Spanish white wine in America? Bummer.

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Martin Codax Albariño 2007 comes from Galicia’s Rais Baixas, which is the only wine region in the world that grows the albariño grape variety (although some attempts to cultivate the varietal have been made in California). While you’ll find a lot of wines that are a blend of albariño and other white grape varieties grown in the region, a wine must contain 100% albariño to be labeled as such.

I’ve found that a 100% Albariño, like this Martin Codax, and a 100% tempranillo from Ribero del Duero make the easiest, least intimidating and most enjoyable first lessons on Spanish wines.

Wine and Remembrance of Things Past

I first learned about wines when I was about 10 or 11 years old - but not from my parents who I never saw drink a drop, not from any of my older siblings, and certainly not from a brother-in-law who worked with San Miguel and didn't drink anything but.

I learned about wine from books – and god knows what I was reading at that age, because I read about a Greek god called Bacchus and the many “wine parties” held in his name.

In fact, my first attempt at painting was that of a Bacchanalian feast, with Bacchus surrounded by men carrying amphoras of wine. I remember shouting “Obra maestra!” as soon as it was finished, in a big voice emulating a crazed and drunken character in some Tagalog movie or radio drama. “Obra maestra! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

When I switched interest from painting to writing, I wrote a tragic love story inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado” and submitted it to the Philippine Free Press. Shortly after, I received my first ever mail and my first ever letter of rejection. Well, it was the only letter of rejection from a publication I’d ever receive in my life, as I swore never to write for competition nor hope to get published in a literary magazine again. I was 12.

From the arts I had a brief excursion into science, during which I learned the principles of fermentation. For example, to test the effects of yeast on fruits, I would secretly inject our papayas with a solution of yeast and water, hoping to ferment their slushy juices into wine. When this failed, I tried the yeast on Coca-Cola and Royal Tru-Orange. When that too failed, I figured it was better to skip the fermentation trials and experiment with alcohol itself.

So, one lazy afternoon, when nobody was looking, I crept under our dining table with a bottle of rubbing alcohol in hand. I unscrewed the cap, toasted an imaginary friend and took a quick swig.

Arrghhh! Arrrgghhh! Aaaaaaaaaarrrrggggh!

To this day, three things remain a mystery to me: 1) why, from all the books and popular science magazines my older siblings handed down to me, I was drawn to the subject of wine; 2) why my mom didn't even ask what I did with all the yeast I pleaded her to buy; and 3) why, despite an early taste trauma, wine continues to be a subject of exploration, learning and profound pleasure for me.

(Above, Wine Stoppers from Disneyland HK, a gift from A.)

Pork is Good! Pork is Evil!

In Bangkok it's simply called crispy pork - sweet, cured pork sliced ever so thinly and baked to a crisp in a conveyor-belt oven. I call it "pork brittle", because - with apologies to Anthony Bourdain who described lechon skin similarly - it is like candy!

Like the skin of "best pig ever!", it's incredibly crisp and crunchy; except grease doesn't drip down your chin when you bite off it. I must warn that this is pork you can take to the couch and finish off as you watch tv. Devilishly deceptive, dangerously addictive. You'd have eaten half a pig without realizing it.

Thanks, M.O., for this pasalubong from Bangkok.

Wines on the Chariots of the Gods

Ferdinand Magellan, who "discovered" the Philippines, was also the first European to sight Chilean territory when he crossed the Strait of Magellan in 1520, during his global circumnavigation voyage. Both countries fought a protracted battle for independence from Spain in the 1800's and both groaned under a dictatorship in the 70's. Except for these few historical parellels with the Philippines, there's really little that I know about Chile.

Though quite embarrassing to admit, my earliest (dis)information about this uncommonly long and narrow strip of land between the Andes mountains and the Pacific Ocean came from author and astronaut proponent, Erich von Daniken.

In his books, Chariots of the Gods and Gods from Outer Space, he wrote about Chile in reference to one of the most mysterious landmarks of ancient civilization. His theory gripped my imagination: that this country must have been so special that an alien civilization had left giant watchmen to look after and protect its shorelines. Indeed, across the coast of Chile, on an isolated and desolate speck of rock called Easter Island, stood giant statues whose empty eyes stare across the seemingly endless ocean, their unearthly gaze focused on Chile.

Today, it may not be too difficult to believe that "alien gods" have looked upon this land with favor. While a number of its neighbors have their agriculture threatened now and then by diseases like the fruit fly and mad cow, Chile has always been spared.

Wine lovers may even have to thank those alien visitors for shielding Chile from the dreaded Phylloxera that wreaked havoc on thousands of hectares of old world vineyards in France and Europe. For reasons that have never fully been understood - except that the stone figures supposedly left by UFO's on Easter Island must have stared down and zapped the louse dead on its track - Chile remains free of phylloxera to this day.

Something good also came up as Europe struggled with the Phylloxera problem. French winemakers in search of work trooped down to Chile, bringing with them their Bordeaux experience and a wine-making style that has become a trademark of Chilean wines. Nowhere was the Old World more at home in the New World than in Chile.

Today, in search of the "Chilean terroir", wine makers continue to experiment with a number of varietals, finding some success in carmenere, merlot, cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay. What a far cry from the days of Gato Negro and Los Boldos, the go-to wines of the 90's and probably our first taste of Chilean wine. An Escudo Rojo from Maipo Valley, which I tasted last year, mirrored the depth and elegance of a classic Bordeaux - a little too warm on the finish perhaps, but a great value at practically half the price I'd pay for its French counterpart. An Old World fan, I will always penny-pinch in favor of a Chilean as most New World wines just seem too burly and in-your-face for me.

Last night, at the IWFS- Ladies wine tasting event held in Circulo, the wines from Casa Lapostolle exemplified the level of sophistication and refinement of Chilean wines. In fact, its Clos Apalta 2005 - a distinctively Chilean blend of Carmenere, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon, with some Petit Verdot - was chosen by Wine Spectator as Wine of the Year for 2008. I was also impressed with their Cuvee Alexander Cabernet Sauvignon 2006, a dense, dark-fruit but soft-edged wine considering it was made of 100% cabernet sauvignon. And, to add to my growing stash of white, I made a mental note to get their Cuvee Alexander Chardonnay 2006.

I had no luck with the award-winning Clos Apalta, though. It turns out the couple beside me and some people with inside information had bought boxes of it as soon as they were made available early this year. Even the Clos Apalta 2000 Magnum - the surprise bottle of the night - has been out of stock at winery level...

Probably loaded and driven away on those chariots of the gods.

From left, Lindy Castillo, Diego Urra of Casa Lapostolle, IWFS-Ladies President Cyrene de la Rosa, Fil Juntereal (seated), Edouard Miailhe of Chateau Siran and myself.

Topmost photo, the Moai of Easter Island, from the Sydney Morning Herald. Other photos courtesy of Cyrene de la Rosa.

Featured wines: Casa Lapostolle Sauvignon Blanc, Cuvee Alexander Chardonnay 2006, Casa Lapostolle Merlot 2005, Cuvee Alexander Merlot 2005, Cuvee Alexander Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Clos Apalta 2005 and Clos Apalta 2000 Magnum.

A Beginner's Wine

The 25% discount on purchases made during the 100 French Wines event held recently got me so greedy that I took home 4 bottles of this Bott-Geyl Les Elements Gewürtztraminer 2006.

Now and then, I’d worry if that was a wise move, whether I should have gone for variety and spread my money to include a Fleurie, which I also liked, and a Monbazillac, a good yet more affordable dessert wine alternative to Sauterne.

I first tasted this gewürtztraminer – its 2005 vintage - at a private tasting with Jerome Philippon and again at another Sommelier Selection event held in 2008 (related posts here and here). On all occasions it was like falling in love again.

While it was reisling that initiated me into wines (that story here), it was the gewurtz that actually set me off on a progressive exploration of wine. I loved that it was sweet but not cloyingly so, with a bouquet and flavor that were a surprising mix of fruits, flowers and, wow, spices! It had personality, as forceful and distinct as a face you couldn’t help but notice and pick in a crowd. It was like meeting reisling’s interesting cousin, an encounter that made drinking wine and flirting with other varietals exciting and full of surprises. It was a perfect “transition” wine, one that opened and prepared my palate for the drier, more complex – so called “serious” - wines.

Looking back now, I think that much more than the reisling or any other white wines, the gewurtz is the perfect beginner’s wine.

Firstly, this wine is delicious (truly!) and refreshing. While gewurtz, particularly those from Alsace, are generally dry, there are those in off-dry (somewhat sweet) styles that are less intimidating and agreeable to the Filipino palate and our taste for the grilled and greasy. Inihaw na baboy? Try a gewürtztraminer!

The downside is, gewürtztraminers are not so popular and readily available here as the sauvignon blancs, semillons and chardonnays. They are also usually more expensive. But for anyone seriously considering a journey into wines, the gewürtz is a good first stop.

A gewürtz is easily recognizable. Hints of lychee and banana with the sweet spiciness of cinnamon? A vividly floral note, of rose perhaps? Even a newbie can pick the gewürtz from a sea of white wine varietals such that, early in the game, he can actually enjoy a sense of expertise.

Nothing can be more encouraging.

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Available Gewürtztraminers: Villa Maria Private Bin 2008 (New Zealand), P810 at Wine Depot; Spy Valley 2006 (Marlborough, New Zealand), P900 at Premium Wine Exchange; Gustave Lorentz 2006 (Alsace), P913 at Santi's; Trimbach 2006 (Alsace), P1,220 at Wine Depot; Leon Beyer 2005 (Alsace), P1300 at Epicerie/Bacchus.

Risotto: Love and Zen in the Kitchen

After the paella, could a risotto be far behind?

Having gained confidence from cooking my first paella successfully, I resolved to confront that other rice dish, that other culinary no man's land: the risotto.

A friend and I had attempted to cook risotto before; and this was when I learned, first hand, that this dish - so deceptively simple - required a lot more than the best Arborio or the most flavorful broth; it called for more than a familiarity with the ingredients or the concentration and sense of timing of a professional chef. It would take - drum roll, please - love and zen to cook a perfect risotto!

Why else would one suffer standing by the stove through the whole process, constantly and patiently stirring the pot, being watchful of how the rice behaved or how quickly the broth was absorbed, focused and intent on only one thing: to achieve that rich texture, that just-right doneness - a classic risotto to enjoy with a thoughtfully selected wine in a carefully planned dinner. No wonder restaurants hardly ever does a perfect risotto. There's just no love when the risotto is prepped and half cooked in advance and just finished off when the order comes in. There's just no zen in a frenzied kitchen of even the fanciest restaurant.

My first-ever risotto, shown above, was inspired by a recipe that appeared in the April '09 issue of Yummy Magazine. It was for a saffron risotto, otherwise known a Risotto alla Milanese. I happened to have all the ingredients needed, including a shellfish broth which I had prepared months ago from left over-shrimp heads, shells and tails and throw-away slices of celery, parsley and carrots. And I still had precious threads of saffron, leftovers from the paella night.

I found this Yummy recipe beginner-friendly. The risotto turned out to be fragrant and flavorful, so worth the rather high price you pay for the saffron and the Arborio rice:

2 tbsp unsalted butter
a pinch of saffron
½ cup diced white onions
1 cup Arborio rice
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup shellfish stock*

In a heavy bottomed pot, place butter, saffron and white onions. Let onions sweat. Add Arborio rice and lightly toast. Pour in white wine to deglaze the pot and let rice absorb it. Stir constantly. Add stock. When rice has absorbed all the liquid, spread risotto on a cooling tray.

*I followed the recipe to the letter but found that it needed more than a cup of broth per 1 cup of rice, maybe 2-3 cups of broth to cook the rice to the right al dente level.

Here are a few more things I learned about making risotto, albeit post-facto:

1. Choose short-grained round or semi-round rice like Arborio, Vialone Nano, and Carnaroli. Long grained rice won't do, because the grains will stay separate. Minute rice also doesn't work as it won't absorb the condiments.

2. Use wine that has been warmed to room temperature; cold wine "shocks" the rice, making it flake on the outside and stay hard at the core. This was my first mistake as I poured wine from the chilled bottle I was drinking. The broth should also be warm or heated. Mine came straight from the freezer, defrosted in the microwave but still with some icy bits. No wonder my risotto ended up on the hard, rather than soft, side of al dente.

3. Don't wait till all the liquid (wine or broth) is absorbed by the rice before adding the next cup or ladle; if the grains gets too dry, they will flake.

4. Risotto that has some heavy cream added after it's cooked is called mantecato; the plural of risotto is risotti.

There Can't Be Only One!

The truth is, not one single malt tastes like another and no single malt can be said to be the best.

Each of the more than a hundred distilleries in Scotland makes its own highly individual whisky. The single-malt maker follows no universal formula, no standard recipe but his own personal taste. That's why, in the world of single malts, "best" is nothing more than the distiller's personal taste matching yours. It is a lot less complicated than wine in that sense.

For me, the single malt night that Adie and I organized wasn't so much about declaring a winner or deciding which is best (though we ranked 5 single malts). It was really more about finding out that the five of us could be friends at a bar. We'd most likely order the same bottle and happily share the tab. Why? Because we'd all go for that that big, characterful single malt with an unmistakable, in-your-face flavor of peat, seaweed and iodine: the Laphroaig.

A Laphroaig - love it or hate it. We love it. A taste reminiscent of medicine, tar and decomposing vegetable matter. We love that. We look for it like some people look for funk in their cheese.

Macho as opposed to wimp, I said. Kilt versus coat-and-tie, according to Cesar. What other single malt invites such metaphors? A Bowmore perhaps? Often described as intense, smoldering and enigmatic, can this drink dislodge everyone's favorite?

I see another single malt night coming up.

(Single malt buddies Adie, Alan and Cesar shown here with Charo)

Forthcoming Wine Events

I thought I'd post the following invites to 2 wine events coming up this latter part of May.

The first is a wine tasting of 100 French wines from 50 appellations in 11 major wine regions, featuring 46 award-winning winemakers and 46 grape varieties. The numbers alone are mind-boggling and possibly palate-numbing. It helps that serving per glass is 37.5 ml only, which, I agree, is just the right amount one needs to taste and appreciate the quality of the wine. That doesn't stop anyone, though, from asking for a top up in case he likes a particular wine. At least, that was what Jerome Philippon assured me when I met him at the Cheese Club last Wednesday.

The May 15 event is hosted by Sommelier Selection, which has never disappointed when it comes to the quality of the wines. The invite doesn't come with a list of wines but I expect a lot from Southwest France, biodynamic vineyards and new, unconventional winemakers.

I wouldn't miss this for anything, but I hope the tastings will be done in "an intimate atmosphere of genuine wine appreciation", as promised. I'd hate to be drinking good wine in a marketplace.

The other invite is for UnWINEd, which happens on May 21st at the Premium Wine Exchange. I've been to a PWX-hosted event once and liked the intimate, subdued atmosphere of their tasting sessions. Service was unobstrusive and the food, then catered by Tippi Tambunting, paired well with the pinots.

Again, the wines are mostly New World, some of which I've tasted, like the WesMar Russian River Pinot Noir 2004 and the Honig Sauvignon Blanc 2007. But I don't mind coming back on the 21st for seconds!

So, here's to all the wine newbies out there who may be feeling shy or intimidated by old wine fogeys like me: Please come, if not for the wine education, at least for the sheer pleasure of drinking some of the best wines available in this country.

The Drink of the Island

Nothing seems to go with white sand, a setting sun and a bar with a view better than a glass of mojito. Never mind if a band from Manila is wailing away somewhere, or a throng, as I imagine, is making its way to D' Mall and, god forbid, will soon reach this part of the beach. One always finds seclusion in a mojito's light, happy buzz anyway.

The mojito is my default drink in Boracay; and it has become my favorite mix at home (or friends' homes) for the simple reason that it doesn't require fancy bar tools nor too-exotic ingredients. There are just 5: mint, lime, some sugar or clear syrup, white rhum and soda water. And ice, if the soda water isn't cold enough. To muddle the mint and lime, I use a pestle or - picture this! - I improvise with the other, dull, end of a soup ladle.

Reserve the wines for the pastas and the roast beef, mix the gang a mojito! Best with light pica and conversation. Cheers!

All photos taken by A. on the new Lumix DMC-LX3 digital camera, under not-so-ideal, past-sunset light conditions, without flash, on IA (Idiot Ako) setting. Love it!

A Single-Malt Showdown: There Can Be Only One!

In the early 90's, it became quite fashionable to hold a glass of single malt in one hand and wield a Cuban cigar with the other.

Among the first to pick up the trend was Larry Cruz, who quickly carved out a cigar room in Club Havana, in Malate and filled up some shelves with single malts. But the place to be - and be seen - was actually Forth and Tay at the New World/Renaissance Hotel. More than a bar/smoking room, it was the purveyor of the best single malts and Cuban cigars in Manila. That's where I'd score my Romeo y Julietas and keep my own single malt bottle on reserve.

In truth, my knowledge of single malts was limited and largely posturing. Iconoclasm - like single females puffing cigars and sipping a single malt - was a chic thing. Yet, I couldn't help but like – no, love - the drink!

Something about the history and romance of this spirit drew me in. I found it fascinating that, much like wine, books had been written about it, that it always inspired reverence in the initiated and could spark a lively discourse among beginners like me - usually through a cloud of cigar smoke and the smell of leather chairs.

Single malts have such individualistic, addictive character that one will want to explore more, taste more, establish favorites. They are vastly different from the more ubiquitous, boringly homogeneous blended whiskies, the Johnny Walkers of this world. No wonder this drink from Scotland draws such a curious following of single malt snobs!

Forth and Tay is now long gone; I’ve since given up smoking and my taste for alcohol has mellowed in favor of wines. It’s been years since I went to the Duty-Free to snap up a bottle; and the Macallan, which a friend deposited in my condo “just in case we wanted a change”, has been untouched for months. I've even almost forgotten how to spell Laphroaig, my favorite Scotch.

But one doesn't easily forget the distinct, intriguing taste and aroma of single malts - some peaty or seaweedy, others malty fruity or delicately flowery. Except for wine, I don't know of any other beverage that reflects its environment or terroir, the local water and the rock on which it travels, the climate during maturation, even the shape of the stills where it is distilled.

Nowhere is the character of the land more significant in shaping the flavor of single malts than in Scotland. Think peat, moss, ferns, reeds, heath, brine that grow or form on what are known to be the world's oldest rocks and you've got the quintessential single malt, a Scotch!

That's why this duo of single malts from Japan, which my business partner brought as pasalubong - was a shocker to me: the Hakushu 10-year and 12-year. I didn't know Japan made single malts! (I found out later that Japan distilleries didn't start to bottle single-malts until the 80's).

When my friend Adie (the anagrammatist and a single-malt drinker) came over, I sat him down for a tasting of the 2 Hakushu's and the Macallan which I brought out of storage. We were both surprised with the results. I found the 10-year Hakushu closer to bourbon on the palate, but both of us agreed that the 12-year old, compared with the Macallan, was smoother, drier (less sweet or sherryish), with a long, warm, slightly spicy (my notes) finish. And it was peatier!

Where did the peat notes come from? Peat is found in many parts of the world, but hardly in Japan. The Hakushu Distillery is not set on a coast nor on some marshy area or wetlands, but in a pine forest, close to the Japanese Alps. Could the peaty/smoky note be a result of charcoal-filtering instead? Now I wonder: how else did the Japanese "synthesize" this centuries-old, all-natural process to produce - though I felt a bit cheated - an equally impressive single-malt?

Adie and I resolved to schedule another single-malt tasting, and this time he'd invite one of his single-malt buddies. I asked him to bring a Laphroaig or a single malt with a more distinct peaty profile. Perhaps a smoky Glenfiddich, too.

A showdown looms; I am excited. Ah, do I see a rekindling of love for single malts?

Lazy Sunday Beef Pot Roast

This hearty beef dish is what I call a prep-and-forget dish.

Prep time is just about 7-10 minutes and then you leave it on the stovetop, take a shower and entertain the guests. By the time you finish your first glass of wine and your first round of chika, it's ready to be served. It's a recipe from Lydia Go and, as with most of the recipes she shares, it's easy to do and uses only a few ingredients.

1 kilo kalitiran or shin-shank
2 tbsp olive oil
100g butter
1/4 cup freshly squeezed juice of kalamansi (about 12-15 kalamansi)
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 tbsp red wine
2 tbsp freshly cracked pepper

Brown beef in olive oil and butter. Add kalamansi juice, soy sauce, wine and pepper. Bring to a boil, then simmer, covered, for 1 hour. Turn beef and simmer for another 1 hour. Slice thinly and drizzle with its own sauce.

For an even simpler side dish: asparagus spears drizzled with olive oil and the juice of 1/2 lemon. Grill in the oven toaster then top with grated queso de bola or parmesan cheese while still hot.

The wine is a gift from C, a 2006 Fabre Montemayou Cabernet Sauvignon 2006 from Argentina. Dense, dark fruits with hints of vanilla give it a "chewy deliciousness" that goes well with the beef.

Coffee Math

Personal Starbucks expenses (based on cost of a short americano) = P85 x 1 per workday x 5 workdays in a week x 50 workweeks in a year = P21,250. Go get your own coffeemaker!

Preferably one that's both a coffee pad machine (better taste than drip, less mess than press) and an object of design (Red Dot, 2007).