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Jupiter’s Blood

Outlet Radio Network
May 8, 2005

Jupiter’s Blood

I’m getting ready to move. It’s a big move, leaving New York after nearly 23 years here. But I figure, I spent half my life so far in the midwest, half here in “the Big Apple”, I may as well split it in thirds and spend the next 23 years somewhere else. Then it’ll be time to go for splitting it in quarters, then fifths, then… I’m really hoping for some sort of cool longevity drug (as long as I get to keep my adorably cute looks).

Part of my move has been clearing a lot of, well, crap, out of my life. I sold off books that I never intend to read, or re-read. I sold furniture. I gave away things to friends and local charities. And then I had to confront my wine collection. Now, there’s no question I plan to keep some of it. But the idea of storing away and then carting cross-country or cross-planet (my future destination is a little murky at the moment) nearly 700 bottles of wine (yes, 700) was more than I wanted to contemplate.

A large percentage of what I had was made up of samples sent to me by various wine companies that I know I’ll never get around to trying before they go bad. I gave away those to a friend who holds casual parties and just needs cheap wine around. That left me with a little over 400 bottles. I auctioned off a whole bunch of them. Now down to about 240 bottles, it’s time to look at drinking a lot of them before I move. So, party time!

I suggested a Brunello party to a wine geek friend of mine (more about Brunello and what it is in a minute). He agreed, we decided to keep it casual, invite a bunch of friends, and order pizza. The pizza turned out to be just okay, but the wines, well, they certainly got us all talking and thinking.

I thought I’d take a look at the grape behind Brunello, Sangiovese, for this column. Sanguis Jovis, is the Latin that the varietal name comes from, literally meaning “blood of Jove” (an early name for the Roman god Jupiter). Believed to be indigenous to Tuscany, this grape has probably been growing there for nearly 2,000 years, though the first literary references to it don’t appear until the 1700s. The grape has been transplanted to various spots around the world, especially by early Italian immigrants to California, where it still forms part of the crop used in old “field blends” of red wine.

Probably the best known Sangiovese based wine is Chianti. Chianti is an area in Tuscany. Though the wine of the same name has been made there for centuries, it wasn’t until the late 19th Century that Baron Ricasoli (wines are still made from this estate and can be found in your local “bottle shops”) laid down the law and set out the “formula” for Chianti. Basically it involves roughly 70% Sangiovese with the blending of two local red grapes, Canaiolo and Colorino, and a white grape, Trebbiano. There have been changes made to the law since then, especially in the heart of the Chianti region, Chianti Classico, that allow for the use of the “international varietals”, Cabernet and Merlot.

Wine geeks will tell you that good Chianti tends to have flavors of black cherries and bacon fat or smoked salami, and that’s an apt description. It sounds strange in a wine, but indeed the flavors are there. Most of us think of Chianti as a classic match for red sauce pastas, and that shouldn’t be a surprise, since many of those come from the same region.

The two “big brothers” of Chianti in Tuscany are Vino Nobile di Montepulciano and Brunello di Montalcino. The former, the “noble wine” of Montepulciano (a town in Tuscany, not to be confused with the classic grape of the same name from Puglia in southern Italy), is a big, rustic wine that some might say combines the elegance of a good Chianti with the power of a Brunello. It is made from a specific clone of Sangiovese (there are 14 recognized clones) called Prugnolo Gentile.

Montepulciano is located in Southeast Tuscany. The flavor profile of a good Vino Nobile is much like that of Chianti, just with more depth and complexity. Vino Nobile traditionally was aged in chestnut casks rather than oak casks, and as the modern wine press began to push for bigger, richer, and oakier wines, Vino Nobile lost favor in the early 1980s. Many producers opted to switch to oak aging, and soon, unsurprisingly, many of them began to get good reviews from those who review. Personally, I like the different flavor profile that comes with the traditional style – if I want to drink Chianti or Brunello, I’ll get a bottle of one of those! There is a lighter, young, easy drinking style of wine from here called Rosso di Montepulciano as well.

Brunello di Montalcino is the true “big boy” of the Sangiovese world. From a town called Montalcino (you knew that was coming, didn’t you?), the Brunello clone produces the richest, darkest, and most complex of the Sangiovese based wines from Tuscany. Most of these wines require years of aging before they’re ready to drink, in fact, it can’t even be bottled, by law, until it has aged in cask for several years. Like Vino Nobile, there is a lighter, younger version called Rosso di Montalcino. Brunellos tend to be quite expensive!

Less well known is a wine called Morellino di Scansano. Another “kissing cousin” to Sangiovese, Morellino comes from the town of Scansano… another surprise, right? It is the local name for this particular clone. I tend to find that Morellinos have a touch more acidity to them than the rest of the Sangioveses, but at the same time have darker fruit flavors – although black cherry is still evident, there is more than a hint of black plum flavors and a bit more spiciness than the others. They are a bit harder to find, but as more folk discover them, the search is becoming easier.

I’m not going to get deeply into the world of “super-Tuscans” because, simply, they are not necessarily Sangiovese. The term super-Tuscan was coined by wine writers a few years back to refer to some of the truly special wines that were coming out of the Chianti area, were often in the writers’ opinions better than classic Chianti, but didn’t conform to the traditional blend and therefore couldn’t be called Chianti. They often were 100% Sangiovese, or included large percentages (or even completely) non-traditional grapes like Cabernet and Merlot. Some of them became quite famous – like Tignanello, Sassicaia, Ornellaia, Le Pergole Torte, and Massetto just to name a few. Unfortunately, the category has no standards, and now, anyone who makes a non-traditional blend feels like they have the right to call their wine a “super-Tuscan”, and many of those now produced are, basically, average swill.

Lastly, as I said earlier, Sangiovese was transplanted many moons ago to California. There are some fine ones produced there, though generally I find that they are too, shall we say, “California-ized”, i.e., too much time in new oak barrels, and too much extraction of flavor, resulting in what amounts to California Red Wine, indistinguishable from other varietals. There are also a few interesting Sangioveses coming out of Australia, though, often the suffer from the same problem.

So, order a good pizza or two, invite a few friends over, and get a line up of a few bottles of different Sangioveses to try. It’s a brave new world out there to explore beyond Cabernet, Merlot and Pinot Noir, but you can do it!


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

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The Queen of Tarts, She Made Some Hearts

20050410
I’d decided to put my apartment up for sale, and head to Key West. I have friends there, I was long growing tired of New York City – the climate, the “rat race”, and, with only a few exceptions, all of my closest friends from over the years had moved away to various other parts of the globe. I was negotiating on a small building, a former bakery, to build out a small restaurant, it had a second floor apartment where I could live. The amount I was selling my NYC studio for plus some savings would pretty much cover the cost of the building and the renovations. I’d decided I deserved a break, and a longer stretch exploring Argentina, and maybe even see if there was more to the spark between Henry and I. What would it take, if so, to convince him to leave South American and come to that States, and how would we get all the logistics worked out?

Little did I know that my six week vacation plan would become an ostensibly permanent move. The deal in Key West fell through while I was in Buenos Aires, Henry and I fanned the spark into a flame, I was already there. Everything I owned was in storage, ready to ship to anywhere… why not? But, at the beginning of April, that had not come to pass. I knew some of it was coming – the offer on my apartment had been agreed upon, the paperwork in process, I was doing all the stuff I needed to do to move on to the next step in life. But, a last goodbye dinner had to be had, with a few of those folk who’d been the mainstays of friendship and my time (23 years!) in the city. I don’t think I even remembered that I’d already done a “hearts” dinner at the time – it had been five years earlier.

April 10, 2005

The Second Sunday Supper Circle
presents
“The Queen of Tarts, She Made Some Hearts”
Dinner

Cold Cruel Hearts of Palm Soup
1983 Charles Heidsieck Blanc des Milenaires

Leek& Artichoke Heart Tart with Molasses Dressing
1989 Marcel Deiss Riesling Grand Cru Schoenenbourg

Butter-Roasted Pom-Pom Mushrooms
1976 Mommessin Clos de Tart

Roasted Marrow Bones with Parsley Salad
1985 Mommessin Clos de Tart

Valdeon Blue Cheese
1990 Mommessin Clos de Tart

And… just as an experiment… we open the iffy looking
magnum of
1969 Mommessin Clos de Tart

Coffee

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Silver Screen

Outlet Radio Network
March 20, 2005

Silver Screen

James Bond roars across Europe in an Aston-Martin and tens of thousands of people rush to their local car dealer demanding to purchase one just like the one he drove. No? Make that Dr. No and let him mention Dom Perignon ’53 (which he preferred to the doctor’s ’55), and the public rushed their local wineshops demanding the ’53. The same scene is basically repeated in Goldfinger; yet in Thunderball, he goes for the ’55, and in You Only Live Twice, the ’59. Marilyn Monroe was a big fan of the ’53. Various vintages of Bollinger champagne are featured as well… ’69, ’75, ’88, and ’90. The ’34, ’47, and ’55 Chateau Mouton Rothschilds from Bordeaux make their appearances as well. (I won’t get into all the rest, there’s [was, no longer in existence] a great site for James’ drinking habits at Make Mine a 007… I’m only using these to make a point… soon.)

Demi Moore offers Michael Douglas a bottle of ’91 Pahlmeyer Chardonnay in the film Disclosure. Sales of Pahlmeyer wines, and not just the ’91 Chardonnay, rocketed. It became “the” cult wine to get for a short time. Prices were raised.

And now, we have Miles in Sideways proferring pretentious wine advice on Pinot noir, Merlot, and what have you. Sales of Pinot noir have climbed, sales of Merlot have dropped. It will no doubt be temporary. But try getting your hands on the three featured wines in the film. Many retailers and restauranteurs (not to mention the wineries themselves) have raised prices or are doling them out in small quantities. Tourism in Santa Barbara has gone up (well it is beautiful).

I won’t go on and on, though it’s possible to, I’d rather get to my point. Starting back from my opening line, the point comes down to… hey folks, it’s a movie. Some scriptwriter wrote it. Some director directed it. Actors were given scripts and lines to say. In many cases some winery, or at least their marketing company, horror of horrors, shockingly, paid for the product placement!

Now, I’m not disparaging the tastebuds of Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan, Demi Moore, Michael Douglas or Paul Giamatti, or anyone else who appears in a movie. I haven’t a clue. I haven’t gone out to dinner with any of them. Some of them might have amazing palates when it comes to wine. But here’s a little secret…

Dom Perignon 2265Sean Connery did not personally recommend to you that you go out and buy 1953 Dom Perignon. Really, he didn’t. Paul Giamatti may play the pretentious wine snob well, but he did not personally recommend that you run out and buy Hitching Post’s Highliner Pinot noir, Sea Smoke’s Botella Pinot Noir, or Fiddlehead Cellars’ Sauvignon Blanc. Really, he didn’t either. And without knowing their personal tastes, even if they had, why would you run out to buy it?

Nonetheless, “the herd instinct is strong,” as someone posted on one of the wine geek websites.

Now, I have to get back to explaining to my trekkie customers that the 2265 Dom Perignon (opening sequence of Star Trek VII: Generations) won’t be produced, if at all, for another 260 years… and no, I cannot get them a sample bottle…


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

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Culinary Adventures in South America

20050313
Having recently returned from my first trip to Argentina and Uruguay, I was filled with excitement at the various new foodstuffs I’d tried. In retrospect, it seems rather tame, I didn’t eat anything unusual, nor anything I hadn’t had before, elsewhere, but I guess a combination of the setting, a magical vacation, and meeting Henry (a big part of the magic), it seemed much more interesting at the time, than it does looking back from today. I also had no idea that this was approaching the end of the road for the Second Sunday Supper Circle, with only a single dinner to come….

Second Sunday Supper Circle
Sunday, March 13, 2005

A dinner inspired by my culinary adventures in South America

Empanadas
Champagne Chartogne-Taillet

Sweetbreads with Fennel & Ginger
1996 Kante Sauvignon

Hanger Steaks with Chimichurri
1994 Errazuriz “Don Maximiano”

Dulce de Leche with Dates
Lustau East India Solera Sherry

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Just Imagine

Can you imagine looking through a telescope into space and God is looking back in the other end of the telescope?
eyeofgod
Fun to contemplate, no? Okay, this isn’t really a current event, though a friend just sent it to me today. This picture was posted on NASA’s “Astronomy Picture of the Day” website back on May 10, 2003. Internet folk have been passing it around ever since with the added notation above, and a follow-up that NASA refers to this as “The Eye of God”. Urban legend…or Net legend – this pass-around is one of those chain letter type things that resurfaces every now and again.

Here’s NASA’s official caption for the picture:

Explanation: Will our Sun look like this one day? The Helix Nebula is the closest example of a planetary nebula created at the end of the life of a Sun-like star. The outer gasses of the star expelled into space appear from our vantage point as if we are looking down a helix. The remnant central stellar core, destined to become a white dwarf star, glows in light so energetic it causes the previously expelled gas to fluoresce. The Helix Nebula, given a technical designation of NGC 7293, lies about 650 light-years away towards the constellation of Aquarius and spans about 2.5 light-years. The above picture is a composite of newly released images from the ACS instrument on the Hubble Space Telescope and wide-angle images from the Mosaic Camera on the WIYN 0.9-m Telescope at Kitt Peak National Observatory. A close-up of the inner edge of the Helix Nebula shows complex gas knots of unknown origin.

To put that in English…

The Helix Nebula is about 650 light-years from Earth. It’s a popular target for astronomers because it’s easily viewable through binoculars or telescope. The phenomenon above is real. The image, however, is not, at least not in the technical sense of the word “picture”. It is a computer-generated and enhanced mosaic based on nine individual photographs taken by both the Hubble telescope and the National Science Foundation’s telescope at Kitt Peak Observatory near Tucson.

Despite the resemblance to an eye in this image, the Helix Nebula is a spiral cylinder more than one trillion kilometers long. It points directly toward Earth and therefore looks like an eye to us, rather than the tube-like structure that it is. To the best of anyone credible’s knowledge, no one at NASA has ever referred to this in any official capacity as “the eye of god”. In fact, this phenomenon and similar ones are common enough that both professional and amateur astronomers have dubbed many object “the eye of god” over time.

Here is a non-composite photo of the Helix Nebula from NASA’s website (still vaguely eye-ish):

helix
And, just because they can be really, really pretty, here are a couple more, respectively, the Catseye Nebula and the Wings of a Butterfly Nebula:
catseye
wings of butterfly

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Gates?

gatesNew York City is all abuzz about “The Gates”. For those of you who haven’t heard about it (I was away when it opened and didn’t know about it until a few days after returning), it is an “art” installation in Central Park. I place the word art in quotes because it is called as such by the artists, though I can find little to fit the description. If you can, imagine a large number (to paraphrase the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy… a really, really, really large number) of roughly 20 foot high steel frames with shower curtains hanging from them (okay, actually there are 7,500 of them). Lining 23 miles worth of walkways in the park. Flapping in the breeze. Oh, did I mention they’re the color of a an orange prison uniform? (The artists refer to the color of saffron, but I’d throw out any saffron of that color.)

gates2I spent an hour or so wandering amidst this unfortunate use of materials (10.5 million pounds of steel, 60 miles of vinyl tubing, 1 million square feet of nylon fabric, plus all the associated nuts, bolts, etc., to hold it all together). The park was thronged with folks there to gawk, to marvel, to critique. One friend of mine said he got a visceral thrill from it. A woman I passed wondered what was to be done with all the steel and plastic after the installation ends (I do too… what does one do with more than 5000 tons of bright orange steel and several thousand bright orange shower curtains?). Don’t forget about the 1 millions swatches of specially made nylon fabric that the artists had commissioned to be given away on a first-come, first-served basis to visitors… figure most of those will end up in the landfill after a few years… months… weeks… days… In an op-ed by Ted Caplow, an environmental engineer, in the New York Times, he mused:

According to the United States Department of Energy, the steel industry in this country consumes about 18 million B.T.U.’s of raw energy to produce one ton of steel. If the cast steel in “The Gates” is typical American steel, then making it has required 97 billion B.T.U.’s, an amount equivalent to the entire annual energy consumption – including that used to run cars, furnaces, air conditioners and home appliances – of nearly 500 New York state residents.

Energy for the steel industry is supplied in roughly equal thirds by coal, natural gas and electricity from the grid. Based on generally accepted rates of carbon dioxide emissions for these three sources, it appears that making steel for “The Gates” churned out 7,000 tons of carbon dioxide, equivalent to the combined output of about 1,600 average American cars for a year (carbon dioxide is viewed by most scientists as a threat to the global climate system). We would have to plant more than 200 acres of trees and grow them for 10 years to remove this carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. Central Park has an area of about 800 acres, but only part of this has trees; and the mature trees that dominate the park do not absorb carbon dioxide effectively, so we cannot look to the park to clean up the mess.

In terms of sheer mass, the amount of plastic in “The Gates” is dwarfed by the steel, but emissions of carbon dioxide, dioxins and other toxins from plastics manufacturing are also a concern. The plastic chosen for the supports, polyvinyl chloride, or P.V.C., is an increasingly controversial material that releases dioxins and other carcinogens to the air and water during manufacture (and possibly afterward). Polyvinyl chloride has been singled out as “the poison plastic” by Greenpeace and other environmental groups. We now have 60 miles of it in the park. Clearly, the squirrels were not consulted on this choice.

Is it art? Who knows. I could almost see that if viewed from the air I could, perhaps, find something artistic about it (see picture below). From the ground it was little more than an interesting feat of very basic engineering – interesting for its scope rather than its content.

The artists, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, have stated that it was all paid for by themselves and took them 26 years to create. Perhaps, perhaps not. The city seems to feel that it is bringing in a burst of needed revenue. Most likely true… on this last Sunday, a week after the installation, there still must have been several tens of thousands of tourists there to see it. It certainly is a revenue builder for some folks. Why wasn’t I the one to think of buying up yards of orange nylon (in varying shades, none of which matched the installation) and selling square yards of it for $20 a pop as one enterprising young man was doing? I didn’t come up with the orange ponchos (well, really more of pieces of nylon with a string tying two corners together… very cape-like) for $25 each either. Nor the t-shirts, nor sweatshirts, nor the orange soda sales.

Thankfully, there are those out there with a good perspective on it… I refer you to The Somerville Gates
gates3

..or perhaps to The Crackers, far more intriguing to my mind.
crackers
I leave you with an excerpt from New York Magazine:
“Nobody speaks to Christo!” says his wife and collaborator, Jeanne-Claude, in her dramatic Parisian accent. “Christo is working seventeen hours a day on the drawings we must sell to pay for The Gates. Without these sketches, there will be no Gates!”

So every morning Christo climbs the stairs from the couple’s fourth-floor apartment to his fifth-floor studio. He works, standing, for several hours on wall-size drawings that illustrate the plans for The Gates, the enormous installation he and his wife have planned for Central Park, and which is scheduled to open in mid-February. Sometimes he moves to a table to work on one of six or seven smaller collages, all at various stages of completion. Or he spreads out a drawing on the floor and works, wearing gardener’s knee pads. “Sometimes he comes down to eat raw garlic, which he eats three times a day,” says Jeanne-Claude. “A total of one head of garlic a day, raw, like candies. With some yogurt. And sometimes a glass of soy milk. That takes him about three minutes. Then back to the studio.”

He leaves Jeanne-Claude downstairs to conduct interviews and schedule visits by collectors, several of whom now visit their studio each day. The works are priced by size: The small collages, measuring eleven inches by eight and a half inches, sell for $30,000; the wall-size drawings, at four and three quarters feet by eight feet, go for $600,000. The Gates, which is being financed entirely by the Christos, with not a penny of grants, city money, or donations, is budgeted at $20 million—which translates to a lot of collages, drawings, sketches, and models. “Nobody comes up here unless they are buying!” Jeanne-Claude says. “Are you buying?”

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BA

Outlet Radio Network
February 18, 2005

BA

I’ve just returned from a fantastic vacation in Buenos Aires! Two weeks of (mostly) good weather, an amazing city to explore, new friends met (including one quite special one), and all sorts of adventures to share. I’m going to try to encapsulate it, and include a proper dose of food and wine, in a few short paragraphs (which won’t remotely do it justice, but such is life).

Friends Pascal, Nestor and Tuomas chat over breakfast.

Friends Pascal, Nestor and Tuomas chat over breakfast.

It’s a long flight from New York, a solid ten hours, but I’ve done worse and I had two seats to myself, so being the petite sort, I curled up and went to sleep for most of the time. Arrival in Argentina, and ready to go. My guesthouse (more about which later, as I highly recommend it), had arranged a taxi to meet me, and so I was quickly whisked off to the neighborhood of San Telmo. As we pulled into the area, all I could think of was, I’m back home! It could have been the East Village/Lower East Side…there wasn’t even that much of an increase in signage in Spanish (which says more about the East Village than about Buenos Aires).

Evita's tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Evita’s tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

At the guesthouse, LugarGay (literally “gay place”), I was welcomed with open arms by Nestor (center in the pic) and Juan, the two owners, and the current temporary “houseboy”, Henry – about whom much more later! We stumbled along in my limited Spanish and Nestor’s somewhat better English, got me settled, and then I was promptly greeted by several of the current residents. LugarGay seems perfect for those who like to travel, comfortable rooms, a quiet atmosphere, and a relatively sophisticated clientele. I spent the afternoon on my own exploring the immediate neighborhood, and then found myself in the company of a charming man from Finland, Tuomas, on the right in the picture (who thankfully spoke impeccable English…and French…and Spanish…and Italian…and Dutch…and Finnish…), for dinner. We were joined by another man, originally from Canada, who had fallen in love with a local guy a few months earlier and decided to move, at least part-time, to “BA”.

Evita's tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Evita’s tomb, at which flowers are left daily by fans

Dinner at a local, very gay friendly (as is most of Buenos Aires) restaurant, La Farmacia, and then a good night’s sleep. Breakfast with some of the guys in the house, at least those who had awakened, and I met yet another charmer, Pascal, from Paris. In fact, Pascal (left in the picture) and I spent a good portion of the next week exploring the city together.

People line up to get into favorite parrillas...

People line up to get into favorite parrillas

Like any big city, there are tons of things to do. Museums and galleries, parks, monuments, cemeteries (one has to pay homage to Evita’s tomb…), and loads of restaurants to sample. Argentinians, and especially porteños, as the denizens of BA refer to themselves, love to eat. And they eat a lot of red meat, especially beef. In fact, other than accompaniments of a bit of salad or the occasional sauteed green leaves, little shows up on plates other than slabs of beef. Argentinian beef is a bit leaner than what we see in the US, but I am still amazed that with the quantity (often a steak for both lunch and dinner) that is consumed, that porteños aren’t all a bit on the hefty side. Dinner at a parrilla can often consist of several courses of meat – what is referred to as an asado, or as we might call it, a barbecue. Innards are quite popular, and I tried several new things (seasoned and grilled intestines anyone?), and a lot of old faves. An afternoon lunch on the roof of La Farmacia. Meat is generally served with a sauce called chimichurri, a slightly spicy herb sauce, for which I’ve posted a recipe below. It’s quite delicious!

Porteños also eat late by our standards. Most restaurants, other than those catering to tourists, don’t open until 9 p.m. And no local would be caught in one before 10 – in fact, many folk go out to dinner at 11 or 12 at night, even on “school nights”. How they manage to eat so late, and often go out to a club or bar or coffeehouse afterwards, and still get up for work in the morning, is beyond me.

Argentinian wines are to be found everywhere, and there is little else to be had other than in some of the swankier wine shops. Some Chilean and the occasional Uruguayan wine (again, more later, as I spent a couple of days in Uruguay exploring as well), and maybe a high-end French or Italian wine. Prices, by the way, are extraordinarily low, mostly based on the current exchange rate – nearly 3:1 to the US dollar. But even with the exchange, markups just aren’t as ridiculous as they often are here. At fine restaurants, a bottle of a good reserve wine might go for 60-70 pesos, or about $25-30. The same bottle here might sell in a restaurant for $60-70, or more than double…trust me, import costs aren’t that high. And meals are also inexpensive – lunch is available fixed price at most restaurants and is almost always under 10 pesos – $3-4. Dinner might, in the finer restaurants, run you 60 pesos, but more than likely not. Generally we ate for about 40 pesos apiece, including wine.

Henry (right) and I (umm, left)...

Henry (right) and I (umm, left)…

And last, for this column, but by no means least, I return to the aforementioned “houseboy”, Henry. We hit it off immediately, and within a day of flirting we had quickly become an “item” around the guesthouse. He hails from Trujillo, Peru, and is adorable and my heart remains with him! We spent my entire vacation together, when he wasn’t working, and who knows what the future will bring!?


Chimichurri

½ cup oil
½ cup vinegar
½ cup white wine
1 teaspoon salt
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped
1 scallion, chopped
1 small tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped
1 small sweet pepper, finely chopped
1 teaspoon paprika
½ teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon ground pepper (or chili powder if you want spicy)
½ teaspoon oregano leaves
2 bay leaves

Basically, mix all the ingredients together and let it steep for at least 12 hours before using. It should be used within a couple of days as the freshness of the flavors will fade quickly. This isn’t my recipe, but comes from a local chef, and I may play with it a bit and re-post a new one down the road…


I started writing food & wine columns for the Outlet Radio Network, an online radio station in December 2003. They went out of business in June 2005.

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Democracy

johnny-carson-excerpt-ftr
In tribute to Johnny Carson, I merely reproduce one of my favorite pieces of his, sans commentary. When this was originally delivered on the air in 1991, The Battle Hymn of the Republic was playing in the background. You’ll have to imagine it…

What Democracy Means to Me
by Johnny Carson

To me, democracy means placing trust in the little guy, giving the fruits of nationhood to those who built the nation. Democracy means anyone can grow up to be president, and anyone who doesn’t grow up can be vice president.

Democracy is people of all races, colors, and creeds united by a single dream: to get rich and move to the suburbs away from people of all races, colors, and creeds. Democracy is having time set aside to worship — 18 years if you’re Jim Baker.

Democracy is buying a big house you can’t afford with money you don’t have to impress people you wish were dead. And, unlike communism, democracy does not mean having just one ineffective political party; it means having two ineffective political parties.

Democracy means freedom of sexual choice between any two consenting adults; Utopia means freedom of choice between three or more consenting adults. But I digress. Democracy is welcoming people from other lands, and giving them something to hold onto — usually a mop or a leaf blower. It means that with proper timing and scrupulous bookkeeping, anyone can die owing the government a huge amount of money.

Democracy means a thriving heartland with rolling fields of Alfalfa, Buckwheat, Spanky, and Wheezer. Democracy means our elected officials bow to the will of the people, but more often they bow to the big butts of campaign contributors.

Yes, democracy means fighting every day for what you deserve, and fighting even harder to keep other weaker people from getting what they deserve. Democracy means never having the Secret Police show up at your door. Of course, it also means never having the cable guy show up at your door. It’s a tradeoff. Democracy means free television. Not good television, but free.

Democracy is being able to pick up the phone and, within a minute, be talking to anyone in the country, and, within two minutes, be interrupted by call waiting.

Democracy means no taxation without representation, and god knows, we’ve just about had the hell represented out of us. It means the freedom to bear arms so you can blow the “o” out of any rural stop sign you want.

And finally, democracy is the eagle on the back of a dollar bill, with 13 arrows in one claw, 13 leaves on a branch, 13 tail feathers, and 13 stars over its head. This signifies that when the white man came to this country, it was bad luck for the Indians, bad luck for the trees, bad luck for the wildlife, and lights out for the American eagle.

I thank you.

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