A grand, Gay evening

Guild governor and Ottawa Citizen food writer Gay Cook opened up the magnificent Bayne-Morrison House to her fellow wineaux for a late-summer feast on Tuesday, August 25. For once, the weather held up long enough for guests to enjoy the luxury of an evening al fresco, in the company of good friends, great wine and fabulous food.

As dusk settled between the boughs of the trees and reflected deep blue-green in the fish pond, we mingled about on the sprawling, flag-stoned patio overlooking Gay’s tiered garden. Our barkeep, Tim, kept everyone refreshed with glasses of Codorníu Pinot Noir Rosé Brut Cava (Penedes, Spain), La Chablisienne Vieilles Vignes Chablis (Burgundy, France) and a Tasmanian pepperberry lemonade that both cooled and singed the taste buds with equal measure. Pre-dinner nibbles included Sylvain’s grilled corn cakes topped with a garlic, hot pepper and berry jam, and slices of Chelsea Smokehouse albacore tuna on daikon radish graced with nasturtium blossoms.

For history buffs, Bayne-Morrison House is one of the oldest homes in the city, and contains a treasure trove of memorabilia. A quick walk through reveals a story in every nook and cranny. In one room, Sir John A. MacDonald’s favourite chair; in another, an ornate Venetian walnut fireplace around which literary greats like Byron and Dickens once sat. There’s the knife used by King George VI on his birthday in 1939, and the chair used by the deputy Speaker of the House during the Queen’s coronation in 1953.

I wandered back out onto the patio in time to catch the summons to dinner, and dutifully slid into the queue with plate in hand. Gay lorded over the carving of two mammoth beef tenderloins at one end of the table, while heaps of roasted baby potatoes and heritage carrots were doled out at the other. The meat, exquisitely rare, was smothered in a caramelized onion reduction and sauce chasseur.

The sweetness was complimented by a pair of luscious reds: the Artezin 2006 Zinfandel (Mendocino County, California) was lighter-bodied than most Zins, with elegant structure and good balance. The Virgara 2004 Shiraz (Adelaide Hills, South Australia) ran like berry syrup in the mouth, full of spice and explosive, jammy flavours, with a long finish. Plenty of double-takes over the label; I certainly hope nobody misconstrued the wine’s potential as an “enhancer”, so to speak …

Gay, ever the attentive hostess, flitted from table to table, ensuring that all bellies were properly stuffed. She regaled us with culinary trivia and bemoaned a society hooked on sugar (whatever you do, don’t EVER ask her for ketchup. You might never get invited back again.) And if you happened to have any room left, I’m sure she would have been more than happy to “whip something together” for you.

My tablemates and I were hard-pressed to pick favourites from the cheeseboard: the nutty, ewe’s milk Tomme du Kamouraska; the Bleubry from Portneuf, which was similar to cambozola; or Attrape Coeur, a silky Gatineau Brie. All came from La Trappe à Fromage de l’Outaouais, and were paired with generous portions of baguette, fresh greens, and the light, apple-pear sweetness of a Markus Molitor 2002 Riesling Auslese.

And just when you thought you couldn’t fit in another bite, dessert appeared, in the form of individual blueberry tartlets glistening with apple glaze and concealing a creamy heart. A fitting final salute to a far-too-brief summer season.

Many thanks to Anna Cullinan, Rutha Astravas and Sylvie Malboeuf for their efficient table service; to Sylvain de Margarie for his amuses-bouches and lemonade; to Tim Edwards-Davies for bartending; and, of course, to Gay Cook and Grete Hale for hosting such a splendid feast.

Still so much to learn

Sometimes I wonder if I've jumped into the proverbial deep end of the winosphere.

I was invited to join some Guild members for nibbles, a tasting or two, and interesting conversation tonight. Duh, can I?? On the way there, though, I'll admit to getting a case of stage fright and wondering just how well I would do under pressure. (Pressure of WHAT? This isn't the tasting exam, for Pete's sake! I'm not being graded!!)

I tend to feel decidedly out of my league when in the presence of mature, well-versed wineaux who can easily rhyme off a dozen French producers and be oh-so laissez-faire about the whole thing. I just nod and smile as if I know exactly what they're talking about, while my brain is desperately flipping through my mental crib notes on AOC designations.

I mentioned this (read: whined about it) to Hubby, my VP of Common Sense, and he, being the very smart man that he is, pointed out that while I may not have France's appellation system memorized, I know an awful lot about Canadian wines, probably more than most people who think Old World is the centre of the universe. And that I'm young and represent a new generation of wine lovers who have a completely different take on wine. And that I should cut myself a little slack - I *just* finished my sommelier course, nobody's expecting me to be a genius.

(Gawd love that man. Glad I married him.)

Anyway, I worried for nothing, of course, and had a fa-boo time brainstorming ideas and exchanging anecdotes on wine travels. My host was the picture of gracious hospitality. He is a master of the amuse-bouche, serving up squares of watermelon topped with sesame-crusted goat cheese; loose-leaf ravioli with two kinds of pesto; and the piece de resistance, a "grilled cheese" of Brie, basil and - get this! - DARK CHOCOLATE CHIPS.

We washed it all down with a fizzy, fun Pazo Pondal Leira Albariño (Rias Baizas, Spain); two Okanagan Valley Blue Mountain Stripe Label pinot noirs (the 2002 was rose-petal soft, while the 2004 was fuller, with a more pronounced barnyard aroma and heavy cherry liquor on the palate); and a Cherry Point Vineyards Solera Blackberry fortified wine from Vancouver Island that was succulent jam up front but had a bright, acidic tang at the end.

Vintages Pre-Release: New Zealand

This Saturday's Vintages release at the LCBO will feature New Zealand wines, along with a roster of good value stuff and cellar favourites. I had a chance to sample some of the Kiwi products on the list at one of the Guild's famous pre-release parties.

I know - that kind of a title makes it sound like a rock band debuting their latest album. The Guild event didn't quite have the same level of raucous, groupie-fueled energy; on the contrary, it was very civilized and carefully structured, in classroom-style gathering around a U-shaped wooden bar at the Vendage Institute.

Kent Currie, an LCBO product consultant and one of my former instructors at Algonquin, led us on a virtual tour of the north and south islands, with stops at some of the major wine regions: Marlborough, Otago, Nelson and Hawkes Bay, to name but a few. Breathtaking scenery replete with mountains, deep fjords and lush vineyards were the focal point of Kent's slideshow, along with plenty of interactive maps and personal anecdotes on left-side driving, sheep herds, and hobbit holes.

New Zealand has developed quite the reputation for its sauvignon blanc and pinot noirs, thanks to an aggressive marketing plan launched in the mid-90s. The winemakers wanted the world to think "New Zealand" first when drinking those signature grapes; so far, they've done quite well for themselves, with annual exports quickly approaching the $1 billion mark.

We tried a flight each of four whites, four pinot noirs, and four syrah/Bordeaux blends from the release. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but I was a bit disappointed with the line-up. Still, there were a few that stood out from the "meh" crowd:

Spy Valley 2008 Sauvignon Blanc (Marlborough) - Most of the folks thought this was the famous Oyster Bay s.blanc, it was so similar in taste and acidity. Crisp and tart, with a classic nose of lemon, grapefruit and cut grass. Light-bodied and fresh, with a long, slightly effervescent finish.

Kim Crawford 2007 SP Boyszone Pinot Gris (Marlborough) - The colour in the glass immediately revealed the varietal, with its signature peach tones in a brilliant, pale straw, clear bowl. Flowery and flinty aromas, followed by a slightly viscous mouthfeel and strong acid. Opinions were varied on this one; some felt it was flawed, others thought it was OK, but not worth the price ($24.95). But you know me, always swimming against the grain. I loved it!

Palliser 2006 Pinot Noir (Martinborough) - Bing cherry, syrup, roses and licorice on the nose, with a bit of a stemmy/licorice flavour. This one was done in a more modern style of vinification, giving off fuller fruit and less of the earthy, barnyard notes for which pinot noir is renowned. Well balanced, with medium weight, a dry, peppery mouthfeel and pleasant tannins. Long, maraschino cherry finish.

Elephant Hill 2008 Syrah (Hawkes Bay) - Complex nose of medicinal herbs (no, not THAT kind!), tobacco and pencil lead, with an undercurrent of blackberries and raspberries. Juicy, plump fruit flavours with well balanced acids and tannins. Lingering berry finish with a bit of a charred note on the end.

Becoming a free-range writer

BAWK, BAWK. No, I haven't picked up avian flu (or any of the other barnyard bugs going around right now). I've just become a free-range writer. 'Freelance' may be the more appropriate industry term, but I like the mental image of me running around vineyards willy-nilly, pecking out stories on my computer, and laying ideas like so many dozens of eggs.

At the Guild's annual general meeting, I had a serendipitous meeting with Nicole Vallée, editor of a new magazine coming out in November, called Brix. Its tag line, "Where wine, people and travel mix" is Vallée's way of bringing together all the elements of great wine experiences.

While noshing on fine cheese and sipping a lovely merlot, I overheard Vallée chatting with June Culliton about advertising for the next Ottawa wine show. I asked Vallée which magazine she worked for. "My own," she responded, with a beaming smile. Well, as luck would have it, I'm a writer who's looking to get published. We shook hands, exchanged business cards and chatted at great length over the course of the evening.

We talked more over lunch a few weeks later, as she walked me through her plans for the magazine. I couldn't believe my luck: fresh out of Algonquin, looking for a chance to flex the creative muscles and build a portfolio, and I bump into an editor in need of writers. We both seem to have the same mindset, too: wine isn't just about the stuff in the bottle, it's about the people, the places and the surroundings in which perfect wine memories are made. The images and recollections that come flooding back when you open that same bottle weeks, months or years later. That's what Brix will be about.

I was giddy all that afternoon, and have been since, my brain whirling with a million story ideas and my fingers itching for the keyboard. My first assignments will cover two upcoming trips: Québec City next week, and London, England, in June. Can't WAIT. Keep you posted ...

An Evening with Pierre Dupont

Here’s a novel idea: drinking wine for the sheer enjoyment of it. Imagine that! No structured formula to follow, no marks deducted for saying a red is “garnet” instead of “ruby”, no stress of having to memorize varietals, winemaking styles, DOCs, DOCGs, AOCs, ABCs, M&Ms, and the rest. That pretty much sums up my first tasting post-Algonquin, and my first outing as a member of the National Capital Sommelier Guild: I get to just enjoy wine again.

Tonight was a perfect segue from classroom to social setting, with people drinking just because they wanted to. The Guild booked the front room of Divino Wine Studio on Preston, where Antonio Mauriello (my instructor from Old World Wines) and his staff served up a parade of scrumptious munchies while we sipped our way through 17 different wines.

The aforementioned Mr. Dupont, a former Guild president and our “guest speaker” for the evening, shared his thoughts, his wine, and a few entertaining anecdotes about each of the selections from his cellar. Between his storytelling and the abundant conviviality at the table, the whole evening seemed more like a laid-back party than a lecture (cuz I’ve had enough of those to last me a while, thanks!)

I’ll admit to feeling somewhat out of my league at first, as the majority of members obviously had years of wine-drinking experience on me. There was a lot of reverent discourse about Bordeaux, Burgundy, old-school California and the like; I got the impression Canadian wines would get a cool reception from the crowd, unless it was an Osoyoos Larose or something. Ah well, I’ll have them all converted by the end of the year.

The first two flights were accompanied by prosciutto-stuffed fried olives, a trio of crostini, polenta caponata and zucchini parmigiana. The white wines were dominated by the Domaine Weinbach Clos des Capucines 1998 Gewurztraminer from Alsace. Practically a dessert wine, with its honey, apricot and cinnamon aromas, but not slick or cloying. I’m sure it’s impossible to find now, but my goodness, it was lovely.

As we moved from white to red, something interesting came to me: I’m not crazy about old wines. I just don’t like the taste. Granted, not every old wine is past its prime; the Brunier and Fils Vieux Télégraphe 1995 Chateauneuf-du-Pape was the height of elegance and luxury, with soft tannins and a smooth finish. But the 1997 Prodigy Shiraz from Katnook Estate (Coonawarra, Australia) smelled like a freshly opened tin of anchovies. Apparently, this is what old shiraz is supposed to smell like. Yikes.

Is there a point to aging shiraz so long that the fruit it’s famous for is lost? It didn’t stand a chance against the other one in my books, a 2007 Eileen Hardy that was bold, spicy and peppery, with big fruit and campfire smoke on the nose and palate. So anchovies in my wine just isn’t my bag. Neither are old Rieslings that reek of gasoline.

(I did, in fact, get past the petrol nose on some 10- year-old Rieslings to find a wonderful wine in my glass: both from the Mosel region of Germany, a 1999 Weingut Joh Jos Prüm Spätlese filled with sweet apple and citrus, and a 1997 Dr Loosen that was all caramel, smoke and coconut.)

Speaking of sweet, the best of the night’s fortified wines was the Gunderloch Vertriebgesellschaft Nackenheim 2001 Riesling Auslese. The name alone is a mouthful; the wine itself is divine: mineral, honey, slightly effervescent, with even more honey and apple pie on the finish. Better than the ’88 Sauternes (which smelled like latex paint … what gives?) and likely a good match with peanut satay chicken. The wines, along with two ports, were served with a tray of five different cheeses, salty crostini and a spiced pear compote.

My initial hesitation faded fast as we all chatted about aromas and flavours, bickered over who was going to get the last stuffed olive, and exchanged what’s-your-day-job conversation. Regardless of background, age or wealth, good wine is a universal constant that brings everyone together.

And I don’t even have to take notes. wOOt!