Dr Vino's wine blog

The question of which wine to serve the Queen is not one that arises in Washington very often. But last night it did at the state dinner for 130 honored guests. The Teetotaler-in-Chief went with an all-domestic–nay, Napatastic!–youthful, line-up (though somehow a “Champagne” dressing appeared on the salad).

Straight from the White House, last night’s menu:

Spring Pea Soup with Fernleaf Lavender
Chive Pizzelle with American Caviar

Newton Chardonnay “Unfiltered” 2004 (find this wine)

Dover Sole Almondine
Roasted Artichokes, Pequillo Peppers and Olives

Saddle of Spring Lamb
Chanterelle Sauce
Fricassee of Baby Vegetables

Peter Michael “Les Pavots” 2003 (find this wine)

Arugula, Savannah Mustard and Mint Romaine
Champagne Dressing and Trio of Farmhouse Cheeses

“Rose Blossoms”

Schramsberg Brut Rosé 2004 (find this wine)

There’s an adage in the restaurant business that the reputation is made in the kitchen but the profits are made at the bar. Perhaps that should be refined to “wine cellar” instead of merely “bar” for the world’s top restaurants. The highest profits seem to come from selling wine, not mere booze.

In a fascinating and lengthy profile of Chef Gordon Ramsay in the New Yorker, Bill Buford let this nugget drop about the operations at Gordon Ramsay at the London:

“The [food] prices—the best value in New York—had been deliberately set low, Ramsay told me, to encourage people to spend more on wine, an upmarket restaurant’s greatest potential profit (no overhead, no spoiled ingredients).”

So is wine the REAL profit center at restaurants? One time Mrs. Vino and I were dining at Charlie Trotter’s in Chicago with another couple, one of whom ordered a gin and tonic. The waiter frostily told her that the restaurant serves no cocktails. Apparently it’s in the name of gastronomy since alcohol can deaden the palate. Chef Thomas Keller does not serve cocktails at the French Laundry in Napa either, although it has something to do with allegedly not being able to get the proper license.

Are gourmet restaurants pushing diners toward wine? In the New Yorker story, Buford reports on a group of hedge fund managers at the exclusive “chef’s table” who ordered $10,000 worth of food and wine. Another group from Goldman Sachs was set to take the table the following night: “budget not important,” was the word in the house. And at Petrus, a Ramsay restaurant in London, investment bankers famously ran up a $63,000 wine tab a few years ago (they later had to resign over it). That’s a heck of a lot of gin and tonics even at $20 a pop, the price at Per Se.

So is wine the real profit center at high-end restaurants? If this secret gets out, maybe mid-tier restaurants will start upgrading their wine programs. A wine geek can but hope.

* * *

On a related note, Gregory Condes, who oversaw the acquisition of $750,000 worth of wine for Gordon Ramsay at the London, has been fired according to the Sunday Mail after a wild night. It could be an April Fool’s spoof, but it seems too harsh.

Goat cheese is a sign of spring in France. When we had a few people over this past weekend, I was sure to have a nice chevre–even if there is still snow on the ground. Grrr…

One of our friends stated his dislike for goat cheese. Then when I brought out a Sancerre, two guys raised their eyebrows, “WHITE wine?!?” Skeptics all around!

We poured a Sancerre and the raised eyebrows lowered, intensely studying the aromas and color. Not half bad was the sentiment conveyed with a nod.

Then the goat cheese skeptic tried the cheese and washed it down with the Sancerre. And again. And again. He proclaimed it a great match!

So check out the 2005 Chavignol from Thomas-Labaille’s vineyard “les Monts Damnés” or “damned mountains” (about $20, find this wine. The name reminds me of the red “Hell’s mountain“). This name derives from the steepness of the vineyard’s slope of which compels the growers to hand harvest whether they want to or not. Since this is not the norm in Sancerre, the resulting wine has a beautiful blend of richness and crispness that can convince non-chevre eaters and even non-white wine drinkers of its virtues.

Got any favorite pairings with goat cheese? Hit the comments!

Related:
“Spring for Savennieres” [Dr. V]
“BREAKING: Sarkozy tastes Sancerre, promises wine reforms” [Dr. V]

In case you missed Tony Boudain’s hilarious rant against the Food Network, it has been making its way around “the internets.” New York magazine got into the action, rushing to the defense of the Food Network saying that Michael Ruhlman, who published the Bourdain rant on his blog, specializes in cheap shots. Ruhlman fired back calling NY Mag “wankers” and told them to buy his book. Good stuff. I can’t wait for the TV version to come out (though probably not on Food Network).

Now we get this sent to the Dr. Vino world headquarters from a trusted source with insider knowledge (emphasis added):

Interestingly, [the Bourdain critique] is not a big deal at the Network at all. They are a media company first and they try to appeal to the masses as much as possible. It’s part of the business model if you will and a byproduct of being available in over 90 million homes. As a side note, the fact that they’re in 90 million homes is why it is very unlikely to ever have a show on wine or even organic foods on the air. They don’t want to alienate any of the non-drinking viewers or preach to anyone about the wonders of organic foods, especially if they can’t afford the extra cost or find them easily. As an extension of that, the Network doesn’t necessarily want to alienate the “non-chef/home cook” too much either and that’s why they need people like Rachael Ray and Paula Deen. But… they also need the balance provided by a Mario Batali and Bobby Flay.

Wine alienates viewers?! Organics are offputting?! Call or write your cable or satellite channel, demand a wine network!

“You’re Mispronouncing ‘Achatz'” A primer on molecular gastronomy. Tip #2: don’t call it molecular gastronomy [Chow]

“I ate bird stomach, lamb’s brain, hearts, thymus gland, intestine, and the livers of veal, chicken and goose in the past 14 days. What an offal fortnight.” offal puns more like it. Staff writer Ryan Sutton reviews Momofuku Ssam and Ariyoshi . [Bloomberg]

“And if states like California can ban foie gras, I guarantee you that veal, lobster and cattle will be next, and in 50 years we will all be forced to be vegetarians.” said Ariane Daguin, owner of D’Artagnan gourmet foods. Um, I doubt it. [Bloomberg]

“Vintners have been using byproducts from milk, eggs, wheat and even fish guts in the winemaking processes for centuries. But a new federal proposal could require American wineries to disclose such unsavory items – used as “fining” agents to remove grit – as ingredients.” Fine wine, indeed! Just don’t tell the vegans about the bull’s blood. Just kidding!!! [AP]

Related: “Cantu feel the love tonight”

tags: wine | dining

Prologue

I recently put Chef Homaro Cantu “on notice” for his wine service recipe published in Wired magazine. In brief, the avant-garde chef suggested zapping a vanilla bean with a laser beam to create a rich smoke that is trapped in an upside-down wine glass. Turned right-side up, the wine is added and the aroma is enhanced. Or so Cantu argued in the comments of my previous post (see here for full details). I was skeptical and gave him a proverbial wag of my finger and posted that I wanted my wine the way its maker intended.

I wrote Chef Cantu that I would be in Chicago over Thanksgiving and would be willing to drop by his restaurant, Moto, and give the “caramelaserized” wine a shot—or perhaps a zap. Here was his reply.

Mr. Colman,
We are closed on Sundays and on Thanksgiving. Please go to motorestaurant.com for hours of operation. Just let me know when you would like to join us and you will be my guest.
Thanks,
HC

A couple of emails later, and Chef Cantu told Mrs. Vino and me that we had a 5:30 reservation on Saturday. Zap, pling zoom! We were going to put this laser beam to the test.

The evening had an arc that it is best told in three scenes: anticipation and exploration; the encounter; disappointment and the bitter finish.

Scene I

Even though it was only 5:30, it was dark. Mrs. Vino steered our fire-truck red rental car through the canyon of dormant delivery trucks. Fulton Market used to house a portion of Chicago’s famed meatpacking district. Today the meat warehouses are giving way to loft office space, condos, and trendy restaurants, such as Moto.

I thought it would be the large and open restaurant on the corner with the headless mannequins in the window. It turned out to be the smaller restaurant next door, its windows shrouded in soothingly neutral colors blocking the view from the street.

The restaurant itself is not large. The sleek minimalism and color neutrality of the décor is occasionally disrupted by a cutaway to the brick wall underneath in an elegant nod to the neighborhood’s warehouse tradition.

We had read about the edible menu beforehand so when we were presented with the wine list on a small paper booklet, I was tempted to take a bite. But the dinner menus arrived shortly afterward and they were indeed printed with soy ink on some sort of edible paper grafted onto a flatbread seasoned with thyme and parmigiano reggiano. The choices were three prix fixe menus of five, ten or twenty (!) courses. The time estimates were one-and-a-half hours, three hours, or four hours. Yikes.

“When you’ve made your selection, signal to me that you’re done by taking a bite,” our server told us, a line that we heard repeated at other tables throughout the evening.

I told her that Chef Cantu had invited us so I wasn’t sure what he had in mind. While she ducked out to check, I tucked into my freshly baked menu, starting at the bottom with the copyright notice. Mmm, yummy copyright notice. (Note me doing just that in the low-lit photo to the right. Also note the ban on flash photography that rendered the food photos useless. That–and the fact that I kept eating the food before remembering to take a photo–doh!)

Our server returned to clear the menu crumbs and tell us that the chef had taken care of us. We didn’t know what we were getting in for. We wondered how long we would be there and if we should call my brother and tell him to put our son three-year-old son to sleep. But we couldn’t call since the menu said that cell phone use is prohibited. At least I think that’s what it said and I wasn’t about to summon it from the recesses of my digestive tract to find out.

First came a “soup and salad,” red and green liquids presented in the same bowl, a shaped vaguely like a gravy boat. The server said it was “pizza and Caesar salad.” The red side was “like we took a Domino’s pizza and blended it.” Ditto the green side with a salad. There were even mini croutons floating on the green side. The server poured us a Unibroue Editions 2005 ale from Quebec, weighing in at 10 percent alcohol, to accompany this dish (find this beer). Served in a wine glass, in the three sips of the short pour I noted a fun malty taste. Wacky as this course was, it worked. Though talking about Domino’s, which I hadn’t had since I last lived in a dorm room, wasn’t exactly what I wanted to be talking about here.

Second was hamachi sashimi with baby arugula, celery root puree, and some delicate, crunchy onion slices. Next to that was half an orange, face up, and bubbling. The server explained that it was “carbonated” and recommended trying a little of the sizzling foam and then squeezing it on the hamachi. I really liked the hamachi on its own. Verdict: sizzle over substance. The wine for this course was a dry white wine from one of my favorite producers, Baumard, in the small Savennieres sub-region in the Loire. (find this wine)

The third course was the best dish of the evening: monkfish served over scarlet runner beans (think fava beans but red) both pureed and whole. As the puree drizzled to one end of the oblong plate, it encountered some lively crunchy rice and a white powder. This was a form of truffle oil vinaigrette—dehydrated. It is a brilliant dish. A bite of fish dipped in the bean puree and the powder tasted as if it were washed in a rich sauce. The Vina Alberdi 2000 bottling from one of my favorite Rioja producers, La Rioja Alta accompanied the dish. With a notable presence of American oak in the wine aroma, the wine is serious particularly for its middleweight retail price of around $17. (find this wine)

It was about here that the loud guys at the table next to us ordered a “blueberry smoothie.” They asked the server to describe it and first one and then another server couldn’t. “I’ve never tried it,” said one. At this level of dining, I would expect that every member of the waitstaff had tried everything—or at least could say what it’s like everyday language if not the terms of molecular gastronomy.

Scene II

Our server approached the table and said that we were going to be escorted down to the kitchen—but first she had to return with the appropriate attire. Attire? I remembered hearing that when the restaurant first opened that the waitstaff wore lab coats (now they were black suits). She returned and placed some goggles on the table.

“These you can’t eat. But you have to put them on, either here in the dining room or at least by the time you get to the staircase in the back,” she said.

We did as we were told. We were escorted down the stairs to the kitchen. It was hot. And dark. Despite that all the kitchen staff were wearing sunglasses. A red flashing light, like one from a police car, cast a rotating red aura around the kitchen.

The pastry chef, Ben Roche, received us. He flicked a switch making a red beam appear on the floor. “Don’t cross this line,” he said retreating behind a machine that I took to be the class IV laser.

Just then a stocky, smiling figure, wearing sunglasses and headset with a boom mic sidled up next to me. “Hey, do I look familiar?” he asked. It was HC! Behind the dessert chef was a large screen with a grid of numbers along the column and the rows and color coding the middle. It probably managed the flow of each table’s meal. But it soon disappeared and was replaced with my blog. Precisely, the page where I put Cantu “on notice.”

“Hey guys,” Cantu called to the kitchen staff. “Here’s Dr. Vino and here’s what he wrote about me!”

Yikes. I had the feeling I was about to be thrown on the table in front of the laser beam like James Bond in Goldfinger. Fortunately Cantu was smiling. And the kitchen staff was too busy to even notice, let alone wield their knives in my general direction. The screen flipped back to his grid and we turned our attention to the laser.

Unlike the Wired recipe with a vanilla bean, our wine was to be “caramelaserized” using a sort of dehydrated orange, reduced to mere powder. Ben Roche, the pastry chef who was wearing a Bjorn Borg-style headband, held a spoon similar to a sweet-and-sour soup spoon with the powder of orange in it. A wine glass was clamped upside down and as the laser beam hit the spoon, a plume of smoke drifted up into each glass. Roche took the smoke filled glasses down and placed them on a small, cloth covered tray.

From behind her set of goggles, Mrs. Vino asked them if they had the largest pupils from working in such a dark environment with sunglasses. They replied that they just did it when there were visitors in the kitchen. Hmm, style over substance?

Our smoke filled wine glasses met us back at the table where they were up-ended and then filled with Tulocay Nord Family Vineyard 2002 pinot noir from Napa (find this wine). I had vaguely heard of this producer but never tried the wine so I asked for a pour in a glass that wasn’t “caramelaserized.” The wine in the treated glass was much more aromatically expressive—it amplified the wines rather muted aromas without seeming artificial. There was a predominant note of burnt orange, one that you would never find in the wine, but somehow it didn’t seem out of place. I anticipated the wine served this way would be simply gimmicky but instead I thought it was a neat trick, though not one I’d like to repeat with every glass.

This wine was paired with our fourth course, a pan-seared (how conventional!) quail from Texas. Although this was the bird that Dick Cheney was hunting during his ill-fated adventure, I somehow doubt that he’s ever eaten it off of Chef Cantu’s “battleship” plate—complete with patent pending we were told. The slab of steel has a 90 degree bend in the middle of it so it looked as if Mrs. Vino and had each taken out a laptop.

Chef Cantu is clearly an innovative guy and protruding out of the top portion of the plate were a spoon and a fork. Each had a sort of corkscrew handle. Fresh sage leaves had taken shelter there. With each bite, these “aromatic utensils” wafted sage under my nose. It might seem gimmicky but it worked.

Scene III

With the turn toward a series of sweet dishes, style started to trump substance. The “banana split” was doomed by the frozen “marshmallow” of maraschino cherry. Yes we all ate the maraschino cherry in a Shirley Temple, but how old were we then? The “doughnut forms” was certainly innovative since it involved doughnuts in five forms, none of them round. But in the final analysis the doughnut soup still tastes like a doughnut anyway. And pitching one of the morsels as “Dunkin’ Donuts blended with coffee” just wasn’t a thrill to me at this level of dining.

The “nacho chile” should have been the first dessert served since it blended sweet and salt of tortilla chips. Instead of ground meat, cheese and chili on the chips were covered with chocolate shavings, mango sorbet, and kiwi chunks. And the final petit four of silver dollar pancakes—cooked fresh in the kitchen, then liquefied, and dispensed through a turkey baster onto a frozen griddle, with dry ice clouds pouring off it—melted too quickly in my spoon and just kind of tasted like pancake batter. Along the way there was a Elio Perrone, Sourgal, a moscato d’Asti that was pleasantly sweet and bubbly (find this wine). This was the most generous pour of the evening at about 2 ounces.

During the quail course I had sent a follow-up question down to the chef. Sadly, it didn’t seem like he was going to reply during the meal because the server was signaling the end by asking us if we needed a taxi. We were busy debating how much tip to leave on a complimentary meal and we assumed this taxi question was the classic sign off for the end of such a meal. I stepped away from the table to see if the men’s room was as avant garde as the cooking. It wasn’t.

When I returned, I saw there was an envelope on the table. Assuming that it was a reply to my question that I had sent to the chef, I opened it to see his answer.

I was shocked. It was a bill for $237.26.

We were charged for two five course tasting menus and one wine service of $45. Plus tax and an 18 percent gratuity.

Suddenly it seemed way overpriced and not that much fun. In retrospect, Mrs. Vino joked that I should have put the bill in my mouth and then walked out smiling, having literally eaten it. What, the bill, unlike the menu, is not edible?

I was worried about the ethics of taking a free meal in the first place. In announcing that I would be going to Moto, I posted that I would be the guest of the chef to keep everything above board and that the sacrifice would—ha ha—be for you, dear reader.

But in the end Chef Cantu decided to spend my money without letting me in on the decision. The server could have informed us when we were ordering that the chef was happy to invite me to a wine service. Maybe we would have just had wine for one that way? Maybe we would have had the caramelaserized wine and hit the road? When I got the bill, I couldn’t help but think that we could have gone to another fun restaurant for half the money at a time we chose with wines that we had selected.

But then again, the bill is always the hardest thing to swallow.

Related:
“Who’s threatening us now? Homaro Cantu”
“We know there’s smoke–but how about mirrors?”
Moto restaurant

I recently crossed light-sabers with Chef Homaro Cantu who had a recipe in Wired magazine for “caramelaserizing” wine. In short, he zaps a vanilla bean with a laser beam to fill the overturned wine glass with smoke, then upends it and pours in the wine. For the details see my earlier post where I put Chef Cantu on notice for such a practice.

Well, Chef Cantu, founder of Moto restaurant in Chicago is clearly a cutting-edge chef who says he’s “changing the way humans perceive food.” He prints his menu on edible paper, cooks his sea bass sous vide, bakes his bread from the inside out, and serves frozen pancakes at -273 degrees.

However, his wine service has been less publicly analyzed than the food. We know it is progressive (no word on cork screws). And the chef himself is so progressive that he even posts comments on blogs. Such as this one. To wit, here are his previous comments in defense of caramelaserizing wine:

Utilizing pure light does not add nor take away any artificial or natural aromatic characteristics of the item being “caramelaserized”. Another advantage is low energy consumption per glass altered and the pinpoint energy and directional control of a laser. A water based vapor would impart a different mouthfeel into the glass as well as implement bitter qualities. Also, I can impart qualities not associated with edible foodstuffs, like laserizing real leather into a glass of scotch. Now you can allow your imagination to run wild with descriptive characteristics because they are now a more robust reality, not just a subtlety.

I wrote Chef Cantu and said I would be in Chicago over Thanksgiving. He has invited Mrs. Vino and me to be his guests on Saturday the 25th. So for you, dear reader, I will go and try his vanilla beans and laser beams and issue the definitive report! Does smoke blend with wine? Or is it post-modern smoke and mirrors? Stay tuned!

Related
“Who’s threatening us now: Homaro Cantu” [Dr. V]
“Weird Science” Fast Company magazine.
Moto restaurant

tags: wine | food and drink | homaro cantu | molecular gastronomy

Do you ever wish you could bring your own bottle of wine to a restaurant to improve your selection and lower the tab? One word for you: BYOB. (Actually four letters more than an outright word.) Chicago has the BYOB bounty with a bazillion Thai restaurants, sushi, Mexican, and Indian.

For more traditional wine-food pairings, there are some Italian places and Schwa, where Michael Carlson was named one of the best new chefs of 2006 by Food & Wine magazine.

They’re all on my new map of Chicago BYOB restaurants. Surf on over and get addresses, phone, hours, a satellite view (check the street for parking) and even driving directions! As they say in the finest casual dining locations, “enjoy!”

See the new map of Chicago BYOB:

www.drvino.com/chicagobyob.php

tags: wine | Chicago | BYOB | restaurants | food and drink