New York Cork Report

Standing Stone Vineyards Vertical Gewurztraminer Tasting: As Unique as the Grape

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent

The wine tastings at Standing Stone Vineyards are hardly typical, but then again, owner and winemaker Marti Macinski isn’t your average wine industry professional. A former lawyer with a degree in piano performance and philosophy, Macinski purchased the winery with her husband Tom in 1991; they’ve been making wine since 1993.

On April 1, Standing Stone conducted a vertical gewurztraminer tasting, featuring six wines from their library: 1995, 1996, 1997, 2006, 2008 and the recently-released 2009.

With 9 of us seated in the main tasting room around a low picnic table outfitted in a white tablecloth, it felt more like an intimate gathering of friends than a strict and serious tasting.

“I just want to begin by stating that yes, we are wine geeks.’” Macinski started. “But our customers are, too, so I think that works.” She went on to explain that, unlike traditional tastings that focus solely on the wine at hand, we would be pairing food from the recently James Beard Award-nominated Dano’s Heuriger down the road. “I know that’s kind of quirky, but as soon as you take a sip of this wine, you’ll say ‘Ooh! I want a sausage! And some cheese!’ You’ll see. Pretend you’re in Alsace for the purpose of this tasting.”

Plates were passed of Dano’s signature cream cheese-based spread, olive bread, sausages and cabbage strudel. As we helped ourselves, Macinski began passing bottles in the order of ascending year, instructing us to pour a “one-ish ounce” taste for ourselves.

“The bottles are still dusty. I was going to clean them but then thought ‘No! It’s authentic!’” She dissolved into sheepish laughter after revealing the ‘96 cork a palmful of pieces that had crumbled during extraction.

The oldest three vintages were closed with natural cork - and all suffered the fate of the ’96 - but the ‘06, ‘08 an made use of a Nomacorc, and the ’09 made use of a technical cork. The technical cork is favored by Standing Stone because they believe most of their customers purchase wine for immediate consumption. “This number will shock you, but 98% of wine purchases are consumed within 24 hours,” Macinski said. “Knowing that, we didn’t want our customers to have to deal with broken natural corks.” Still, Macinski worries that the Nomacorc is allowing excessive air into the bottle, rapidly speeding the natural aging process.

Tasters were encouraged to sip at their own pace -- in whatever order they desired -- as Macinski discussed the finer points of the grape.

Macinski likes her Gewurztraminers big and bold, and that’s how Standing Stone makes them.

The grapes sit for a quick stint (24 to 96 hours, on average) with their skins, a move that doesn’t necessarily impart tannic structure, as with reds, but lends a bit more heft and body to the wine. “It gives it a certain ‘Gewurz-ness,’” Macinski explained with a shrug of her shoulders and another laugh.

I started with the 2009, a pale straw color in the glass with an orange blossom nose. “It has potential,” I wrote in my notes as Macinski alluded to as much. “It’s just not Gewurztraminer yet,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “Though this did get a nod from Wine Spectator as the daily pick on March 29.”

The 2008 was a huge lesson in contrast, the color of liquid gold with a nose that revealed so much musk I wrote “POW!” in my notes. It’s their current vintage, and after a “classically normal” growing year with plenty of sun, a fine and honest representation of Standing Stone’s distinctive style.

The 2006 was lush on the mid-palate, veering toward fat. While the rest of the older vintages we tasted were aging nicely, Macinski offered some simple advice. “Take it from a winemaker: drink this soon. It’s good.”

The 1997, a surprising and attractive lemon-lime color, was well-rounded and full, with qualities of cilantro and lime that cut through the richness, as well as lingering hints of cardamom. It was, by far, my favorite wine of the evening and paired extraordinarily well with the buttery pastry-encased cabbage strudel.

The 1996, a musty, heavier sample with an oily mouthfeel was revealed as Macinski’s favorite (though only after I asked).

The 1995 was largely considered by our group to be a bit past its prime, but I liked its austere and elegant qualities coupled with a perfume-packed nose.

The connective thread between all six vintages -- if there is one -- seemed most easily defined as a persistent pleasantly bitter edge (think Campari, rather than undressed dandelion greens) that was reminiscent of both fennel and grapefruit; a bit of a puzzle in an otherwise full and lusty white wine.

“That’s our region; it’s what we do. We have a great ‘green’ quality to this grape. Why not embrace the green?” Macinski said.

I tend to avoid organized wine tastings on account of a strong aversion to (and admittedly unfair generalization of them as) exercises in snobbery. But Standing Stone is doing something right with theirs. “We don’t just sit and drink,” said Macinski as the afternoon wrapped up. “We sit and eat and drink and talk.”

 

The Piggery Deli and Butcher Shop: Making Meat Cool Once More in Ithaca

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent 

"Do you want to meet the butchers?" Heather asked me as we rounded the corner of the kitchen. In the middle of next room two men intricately worked knives into the ribs of a pig, severed in half and propped on a table. Its skin was carnation-pink, and its bones were clean as a whistle and creamy white. Yes. I wanted to meet the butchers. 

Heather Sanford and Brad Marshall never intended to run a full-scale butcher shop and deli in one of the Finger Lakes’ most vegetarian-friendly towns. They started their organic pig farm seven years ago with the most modest of goals: to raise a few dozen pigs and make artisanal charcuterie on a small scale. That was then. Now, with a storefront called The Piggery on Route 13 in Ithaca, a CSA and 500 pigs, they’ve grown. A lot.

“Brad just does everything hog-wild,” Heather said with a wave of her hand and not the slightest hint of irony when I interviewed her at the shop this week. “The demand was there, so he just opened up a bunch of books and started learning how to butcher.” The couple had originally intended on crafting patés and sausages from their pigs, but quickly realized that it wasn’t the most economically viable business model. Besides, their regular customers were clamoring for more. “They’d say ‘This is cool, but don’t you have pork chops?’” Heather explained.

The Piggery goes through 8-10 whole pigs a week, selling those chops as well as tenderloins, ribs, bacon and lard in the butcher case on Wednesday through Sunday. They also sell sandwiches, tacos and other deli-style meals in the same location. Brad is the deli’s executive chef, creating sandwiches with their Mortadella (a faintly pink Bologna-style meat studded with pistachios), shaved ham and Piggeroni, a salami similar to a -- you guessed it -- pepperoni. Carnitas and pulled pork on Kaiser rolls and tacos are also big sellers. There’s even a vegetarian option featuring local cheese and vegetables, though it doesn’t get much playing time. “We should create a salad, I guess,” said Heather before pausing and shrugging. “Meh.”

The business has expanded so steadily -- doubling their number of pigs every single year - that The Piggery also sells beef and lamb from Autumn’s Harvest Farm in Romulus. “We do all the butchering,” Heather said, speaking to the three full-time butchers on staff. In April, they will also begin selling bread products from Fat Boy Bakery in Freeville.

Dealing in such large amounts of raw product means Heather and Brad have learned to be resourceful. The walk-in cooler showcases whole pigs hanging from hooks, as well as their heads, wrapped neatly in plastic and stacked in boxes. “We use their cheeks - so tender! Or we make guanciale [jowl bacon]. Or boil the meat down to make headcheese.” Heather frowned. “But the headcheese is pretty labor intensive, and it’s not such a big seller.”

Still, The Piggery doesn’t seem to be lacking in customers. The weekdays are typically a steady stream of regulars on lunch break, but the weekends bring an onslaught of tourists who have heard about the deli and butcher shop through Yelp, where it has garnered a collection of glowing four- and five-star reviews. On a Saturday, the shop will see 500 customers - easily. The place can feel packed, but rarely unpleasantly so. This is no doubt because of the quirkily effervescent staff (some of whom pop in on their day off to order a platter of tacos, as I witnessed.) I’ve yet to see see a customer given the tell-tale surly stare from a disgruntled employee, even when the line at the counter was eight deep. The staff maintains and openly demonstrates a sense of camaraderie.

“I’ll grab that!” Heather shouted during our interview, seeing a customer pull up to the drive-through. “Whoops, they're too quick for me. Too good!” she said a moment later, pushing her headset away from her mouth as she noted a staff member at the counter taking the order.

In addition to maintaining a hectic storefront, the Piggery also offers a meat CSA. Although they originally provided for both Ithaca and New York City, they have decided to eliminate the out-of-city shipping and focus exclusively on local customers. “We fill this weird niche here, in that Ithaca hasn’t had an independent butcher since the 1990s. We provide for people who want more sustainable meat - or who just want specific cuts,” she said, referencing an oft-heard request for more fat left on the bone-in chops.

CSA members and curious locals and tourists alike can’t help but pop into the deli. Its walls are painted a cozy rust color that was a holdover from the previous business, the Orange Blossom Pancake House. A large wall separating the dining room from the kitchen and butcher shop is painted chalkboard black and proudly displays, in bright colors, the local farms and food producers that The Piggery partners with. Pig trinkets, stuffed animals and toys are scattered around the shop, including two small pigs with wings that seem to have flown directly into a pole and gotten lodged there. The effect is at once whimsical and charming, not unlike Heather and Brad themselves.

“Even though we’re raising so many pigs now, I still love them all,” said Heather. “I work with them, play with them. They’re my babies. And this may sound weird, but every time we take them to slaughter, I thank them - for giving us food.”

This sentiment rings true for many of the customers. In Ithaca, where it can seem like many eschew meat, or at least require a sense of accountability attached to it, The Piggery is providing honest food cultivated with respect.

“I don’t know,” she said, clasping her hands together on the table. “Even though I’m running this - this business -- I’m still really just a farmer.”

At 171 Cedar Arts, Real Culinary Education by Finger Lakes Chefs

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent

Most celebrity chefs guard their secrets closely, denying consumers and fans their recipes and techniques. And why should they share? It’s their repertoire, after all. There’s a certain unspoken fear in the restaurant world that if clients can replicate dishes on their own, the banquettes and bar stools will slowly empty as home ovens steadily warm to a roaring fire.

The chefs in the Finger Lakes believe otherwise. For years, a core group of culinary professionals in the region have been teaching specialized and themed classes to laypeople, unraveling the mystery and mystique of their craft at 171 Cedar Arts in Corning one Saturday morning at a time.

This eagerness to educate grows out of a strong feeling of community within the Finger Lakes culinary scene. As a developing wine tourism region, there is still only a small handful of serious eateries and restaurants. Those involved feel a deep sense of pride not just in the food they create, but in the work of their peers as well. I asked Brud Holland, of Red Newt Bistro, if it was an unspoken rule for Finger Lakes chefs to participate in the program. Says Holland, who has been teaching with here since 1999: “There’s a natural tendency in how I cook to educate, so that part came very naturally. It seemed important.”

When Holland first started, the classes were – and still are – overseen by Neal O’Donnell, Director of the 171 Cedar Arts Culinary Program. The educating chefs originally taught at Sullivan Kitchen in Bath and then the World Kitchen Headquarters. The program finally found a home at 171 Cedar Arts Center, located at 171 Cedar St.

The organization’s website states its mission clearly: to “[provide] the community with a warm, friendly home in which to explore the arts.” The concept was implemented in 1968, and since then dancers, artists, musicians, thespians, athletes and cooks have found a home in which to practice their craft and teach the community.

The culinary classes are popular, perhaps in part because of the interest in food and wine that engulfs the Finger Lakes region. When chefs like Suzanne Stack of Suzanne Fine Regional Cuisine and Scott Signori of Stonecat Cafe are speaking, people listen. Each chef is given the freedom to create the menu they’d like to teach, and in what format. While the class themes encompass everything from vegan recipes to cooking with local produce, the general goal is the same: to raise awareness of what’s good, what’s fresh, and who’s making it in the Finger Lakes.

The current schedule of classes, held on Saturday mornings until May 5, has classes clocking in at three hours, running from 10am to 1pm. In a culture of 22-minute cooking shows, that’s a long time for a chef to teach. Holland admits that most chef-educators actually extend that time by arriving hours ahead of time to prep and prepare their mise en place. It’s also a long time for students to sit and watch hungrily as increasingly delicious smells waft up from the make-shift kitchen in the Drake House auditorium – but with samples and tastes passed liberally, no one ever seems to complain.

I attended a class on February 11, titled “Romance at Breakfast” and taught by chef Debbie Meritsky of the Black Sheep Inn in Hammondsport. (I had previously written a profile of her, here.) Her menu was ambitious, and included recipes for brioche, poached eggs with beurre blanc, scrambled eggs with caviar, grain-free granola and coeur a la crème, an almost savory dessert made from basket or cream cheese and dressed with raspberry coulis.

Each student was given a clipboard with copies of the recipes, so they could follow along and write notes. And that they did – for the first two hours, they wrote furiously, scribbling substitutions, tips and anecdotes from Meritsky in the margins. The atmosphere at the start of the session was timid and shy, though no doubt ameliorated by Meritsky’s boundless enthusiasm and O’Donnell’s colorful and ebullient presence. (Holland has referred to him, quite aptly, as the program's “consummate storyteller and emcee.”) By the time the mini brioche loaves were proofing on the back of the stove, students were calling out questions and murmuring to one another in the audience.

Two culinary students from BOCES had volunteered to help with the prep work. At one point, Meritsky asked a student if she had ever made a remoulade sauce. When the young girl shook her head, Meritsky handed over the ingredients and recipe and told her to demonstrate the process. “Just wing it,” she said.

A twitter and chuckle went through the audience, and then a sigh of relief that seemed to say, “It’s okay. We’re all here to learn.”

Not only is that the atmosphere in the culinary classes at 171 Cedar Arts, it’s the goal – for everyone involved. Says O’Donnell: “I enjoy seeing the chefs evolve into terrific instructors.”

The chefs teach in a make-shift kitchen cobbled together from old butcher’s blocks, tables and shelving units. The range is electric instead of oft-preferred gas, and access to running water is a few steps away in a prep area, but that doesn’t deter anyone from signing up to teach. Besides, says Holland, that’s just the way they intended it. “Back when we were like nomads, we were trying to create a mobile kitchen that could be packed up and brought anywhere.”

The result is a space that’s homey and eclectic. First-time and returning students feel a no-pressure familiarity when they realize that 171 Cedar Arts isn’t a stainless-steel wasteland of exclusionary cooking terms and techniques. It’s real cooking, by real chefs – for real people.

Curious home cooks can attend a class for $50 ($42 for members), and the three-hour instruction includes tastes and samples of everything made. To sign  up for a class, call (607) 936-4647 or visit 171cedararts.org.

Sheldrake Point at Seneca: What’s New for a Classic Finger Lakes Winery

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent
Photos courtesy of Sheldrake Point winery

Mention Sheldrake Point Winery on Seneca Lake and, chances are, you’ll be corrected. “It’s on Cayuga Lake,” I heard a half-dozen times over the course of the last month from friends and Finger Lakes wine fans. They aren’t wrong, but neither am I. On September 26, 2011, Sheldrake Point opened a second tasting room on Route 414 along the southeast side of Seneca.

The tasting room has opened quietly, not for lack of marketing and outreach on their part, but because they were just getting started as the tourism season wound down. The lack of tasting room traffic in the winter months has given owner Bob Madill and tasting room manager Christine McAfee a few months to get their bottles in a row. In a phone conversation and visit to the tasting room, I spoke to them about Sheldrake’s two-lake presence.

Like all business decisions, the addition of a new location was made with profit in mind. Unlike many wineries in the area, Sheldrake’s original location on Cayuga grows all of their grapes in one vineyard. “Every wine we have is a single-vineyard wine, for all intents and purposes,” Madill said. “But we were selling just about half of our grapes.”

Sheldrake never entered into a long-term partnership with other wineries, choosing instead to sell grapes as needed, to places as far away as Pennsylvania. “If we made all of those grapes into wine, we’d never move it.” Ready for a challenge, Madill and his team figured that if they increased their presence in the area, they could very well sell enough wine to make up the difference.

The team began looking into remote locations out of the area but the cost and logistics of managing a tasting room or storefront far away didn’t seem to Madill to be a worthwhile gamble. Then they stumbled across Busca Books on Seneca Lake, a convenient location with lots of room to spare. Owner Michael Cooper agreed to sell 2,500 square feet, the majority of the space, to Sheldrake, moving his business to the back third of the store.

A deck with clear glass paneling was added to the front and trees were cleared from the property to open up the view of the lake. The result is a modern, clean space with clean lines and lots of natural light. To keep the room from looking minimalistic, Sheldrake is decorating the walls with work from local artists.

The bars where servers pour might look different on any given day – they’re on wheels and can be rearranged or removed to accommodate for parties and events. “We searched forever for those bars,” Madill said. “We visited other tasting rooms, measured to find the perfect height and looked for the best material.”

That attention to detail is apparent in more than the decor. McAfee told me that when Sheldrake opened, she wrote letters introducing herself to the surrounding neighbors. “They’ve been really supportive so far,” she said, adding that many of them don’t actually drink alcohol. This “hey, neighbor” mentality is reminiscent, says Madill, from over a decade ago when Sheldrake moved into their space on Cayuga.

“In both locations, we’re basically in the middle of a residential area. We try to keep that in mind,” Madill said, recalling with a laugh (and a bit of a groan) the large white fence that was constructed then taken down in the parking lot at Seneca, after realizing it obstructed a resident’s view.

At the heart of the decision to expand Sheldrake’s presence in the Finger Lakes was a desire to rework and revitalize the winery’s portfolio. “We’re going to focus more on distinguishing where in the Cayuga vineyard our grapes come from,” said Madill, recognizing that the climate and character in vineyards can be drastically different even just a few yards away. They currently cultivate 43 acres with the potential for planting more vines, providing the doubling of production goes well in the next few years.

Riesling and cabernet franc make up the largest percentage of the vineyard, with the 2011 vintage shaping up to include a Dry Riesling, Semi-Dry Riesling and an Ice Riesling. Madill also has hopes for a Reserve Riesling, as it is “developing nicely” but isn’t yet certain it will be up to Sheldrake’s standards.

Consumers will also see the disappearance of Sheldrake Point Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. Winemaker Dave Breeden and vineyard manager Dave Weimann will continue to grow the varieties, but have decided to blend them with cabernet franc in a Meritage, a Bordeaux-style blend.

At Skaneateles Bakery in the Finger Lakes, Tradition Meets Youth in a Sweet Twist.

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent
Photos by Stu Gallagher

In a town steeped in tradition, there’s something decidedly new – and young – happening on the culinary front. Husband and wife team Chris Grilli and Katie Brennan, ages 28 and 26 respectively, purchased the decades-old establishment on Jordan Street in July of 2011, and have since been putting a modern spin on a classic repertoire.

Skaneateles Bakery has been in operation since 1959 and despite having changed owners a few times, still feels as authentic as it had when it first opened. The original recipes are still in use, from donuts and cinnamon rolls to generously-sized cookies and scones, and a few of the staff members stuck with the establishment through the change in ownership.

Brennan employs 15 staff members, an impressive number, given the petite size of the storefront and kitchen area, although most are local high school and college students working the cash register. “My mom works here too,” she said with a giggle. “She comes in a couple days a week to lend a hand.”

From the looks of it, many hands are needed to produce the amount of food they do. Not only do they pile their counter high with baked goods – Those scones! More on that later. – they also offer sandwiches on house-baked bread and soups, “made from scratch,” she said proudly. The biggest seller on the savory menu is a turkey sandwich with chipotle, avocado and applewood-smoked bacon. In terms of plain numbers, though, nothing comes close to the donuts.

If donuts can be grouped into genres, these would be vehemently old-school. No bigger than a tight fist and freshly made every morning, they taste of real sugar and cinnamon, a far cry from their mass-produced counterparts. They get snatched up by the bagful by hungry customers at Christmas time, when actors bring characters from A Christmas Carol to life at the annual Dickens of a Christmas festival. “But lots of people also buy food and walk it across the street to the water,” Brennan acknowledges. “Summer is really busy.” She took what sounded like a deep breath of relief. “Summer was really busy.” The bakery’s location in the heart of the village, directly across from Doug’s Fish Fry, makes for high traffic on weekday mornings and lazy weekend afternoons alike.

The newlyweds purchased the establishment from Sam Mason, original recipes and all, if not on a whim, then definitely with a prayer. Neither Brennan or Grilli had worked in the restaurant industry, Brennan said in a phone interview. And even more frightening, neither had owned a business. She was working with an interior designer (she now works full-time at the bakery) and her husband was a schoolteacher.

“But it was always something I toyed with,” she said. “One of the things I love about baking is that it allows me to be creative. I always thought ‘wouldn’t it be neat to own a bakery?’” Brennan’s father, settled in Moravia, thought so too. He felt a strong connection to Skaneateles Bakery, and passed that onto his daughter before he passed away. “Chris and I moved back to the area [from Boston] in 2010, and I kept a pulse on everything around me.” When the listing went public, they didn’t hesitate.

I visited with my boyfriend this past Sunday for lunch and a look around. An egg, cheese and bacon sandwich had character – no freakishly uniform eggs here – and a goat cheese salad came with healthy-looking red leaf lettuce lightly dressed in homemade vinaigrette. Café Kubal, a Syracuse-based roaster, provides the beans for coffee, and a variety of freshly-packed teas are available (The Earl Grey is excellent; a heady hit of bergamot.) The real kicker was the scone we ordered, studded with chunks of chewy dried apricot and with a distinct buttermilk biscuit-like texture. It was topped with a cautious drizzle of sugar glaze and was so good that we ordered another on our way out.

If the food seemed to resonate more with me than a typical bakery’s fare, I suppose it can be chalked up to the fact that Brennan just gets what’s trending in the restaurant and food world right now. “Local, organic, and fresh,” she said. “Our mindset is that the most important thing in serving food is that it be of high quality. Local and organic mean great quality.”

They already work with a handful of local farmers, growers and vendors, including Wake Robin Farm of Jordan, who provides the yogurt for their parfaits. When the weather warms up, Brennan has big plans to source local animal protein more fresh produce to round out their menu. “We support the community as much as we can because they really support us,” she said.

So they get the local and organic thing, which is undeniably important. But what I like best is the sense of whimsy and charm about the place. The menu is written on a chalkboard, with a gray, smudgy spot in the left-hand corner where a “Word of the Day” and its definition get written and erased again and again. The baked goods and sandwiches, if eaten in, are handed to customers in small wicker baskets and the employees’ feathers never seem too ruffled to chat. The menu is clever too – I spied a homemade Pop Tart, its belly swollen with homemade raspberry jam – and swooned. This is joyful food.

Brennan is such a chipper personality, full of optimism and excitement (she must be a morning person), that I found myself wondering if she’d run into any challenges or unpleasant surprises as a new business owner. “Being a boss is hard,” she said. “But honestly, and this may sound dorky, I really love my staff.”

She loves what she’s doing, too, and so does Skaneateles. In a town that can be tough to please, Brennan is having no problem becoming part of the fabric. The cupcakes, cookies and muffins that made the bakery famous will continue to shine while taking on a personality of their own. And that is what’s really sweet.

For Chef Samantha Buyskes-Izzo, Simply Red Means Simply Good

By Rochelle Billow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent
Photos by Onion Studio

If you’ve had any sort of connection to Finger Lakes food within the past ten years or so, chances are you’ve come across Samantha Buyskes-Izzo. She’s been cooking here since 2002, and since 2007 has served as the Executive Chef at Simply Red Bistro at Sheldrake Point Winery on Cayuga Lake, as well as at La Tourelle Resort and the Hangar Theatre in Ithaca.

It’s a fair assertion that she’s best known for her work at Sheldrake, where the bistro earned her a sort of cult following, attracting visitors from all over and curious local foodies. Samantha’s unique background -- she grew up in South Africa -- and elegant, thoughtful creativity meshed together there to elevate winery fare from an often boring paint-by-numbers meal to an exciting, complete dining experience. 

She’s a standout chef in her understanding of spices and how flavors work together. A mountain of shaved carrot, studded with Moroccan spices -- cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves -- and moist with herbed cream cheese, piled high with sprouts on whole grain bread remains the best sandwich I’ve ever consumed. Each bite gave way to a gentle crunch and soft sweetness before finishing with a lingering heat. After finishing the sandwich and a lemonade sweetened with lavender syrup, I wasn’t just hooked -- I was inspired.

I’m not alone in this sentiment, so I know I wasn’t the only one to react with trepidation when Samantha announced earlier this fall that she was leaving the bistro at Sheldrake Point to pursue a new venture, Simply Red Events and Culinary Center at the Highland Lodge in Trumansburg.

I called Sam earlier this week to talk about what the change will mean for her -- and, selfishly, to inquire what it will mean for her fans like me. When I asked if, moving forward, getting a taste of her food would be as easy as ordering a sandwich at the bistro at Sheldrake, she paused and then laughed apologetically. 

“Well, no. But it will be a better experience.” She went on to explain that while the bistro gave her an extraordinary opportunity to champion not just her food and flavors, but also the Finger Lakes region, it was restricting. “Only in that I couldn’t be a part of the experience from start to finish,” she said. “If a customer came to eat, I might be able to stop by their table and say hello, but not much more. I couldn’t guide their meal.” 

Simply Red Events and Culinary Center will allow her that opportunity. The venture will invite curious eaters and cooks of varying expertise levels to explore all things edible in a more tangible, all-encompassing way. Cooking classes led by Sam will include trips to farms and food producers -- when the weather warms up a bit -- for truly a hands-on experience. 

For those looking less to create a meal and more to just eat one, Sam’s dreaming up music and food social nights at the Lodge. “I have someone checking out the acoustics there,” she said in typical Simply Red fashion, highlighting a detail with nonchalance that many of us might have very well overlooked.

I refrained from asking her if she’d miss the bistro at Sheldrake. I figured it was a given, and indeed she stated she would; very much. Instead, I wondered why she ultimately made what must have been a very difficult decision.

“I need to contribute to this community in a way that is about me... but not about me.” She continued, explaining that what she does in the Finger Lakes is important because it is unique and creative, but it’s ultimately more about what Simply Red means to the region and less about Sam the Chef.

“All the accolades on the wall don’t mean shit,” she said, before letting a warm chuckle escape and admitting that she is thankful for each one, including a cookbook (Mama Red’s Comfort Kitchen) and an appearance on the Food Network cooking competition, Chopped. “That was great, but it’s not about becoming famous. Deb [Whiting] and I used to dream together about everything we’d do for the region, culinarily speaking. When she passed, it shook me. I needed to figure out what I was doing, and how I was contributing.” 

She paused to catch her breath. “I have a rare opportunity here. What do I do with that?” 

Well, if things go according to plan, she expands her reach under the Simply Red umbrella. The food will still be available at La Tourelle and the Hangar Theatre, and an all-encompassing culinary experience will be open to the public at the Highland Lodge after the official opening in January of 2012. 

The concept for the basic classes goes like this: three hours, a three-course meal all paired with Finger Lakes wine. Each session is held together by a loose theme that serves to inspire the menu, rather than pigeonhole it. January’s for example, is to include spices that “entice and excite” the senses. February is about comforting, hearty foods, while March peeks at warmer weather with a spring-inspired roster of ingredients.

With a vision this big and a past so wide, I couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t set her sights on a larger city. Her answer rang true.

“Everything just fell into place,” she said, reminiscing about her initial move to Podunk Road in Trumansburg (“Isn’t that great? I loved it.”) Sam, like so many fixtures in the area, found inspiration in the seasonal ingredients and sense of camaraderie among cooks, winemakers and food producers. Settling here was a no-brainer; the surprising part was what came after the restaurant. She never expected to be so enthralled by the idea of cooking classes but the longer she thought about it, the greater appeal it held. 

As we wrapped up the conversation, I began to realize my concerns were unfounded. The Finger Lakes region has many more spice and seasonal-inspired meals to look forward to because Chef Sam isn’t going anywhere -- and neither is Simply Red.

 

CaryMo Chocolate: Where Decadence, Artistry and Creativity Meet

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent

I guess I had envisioned that chocolate making would be a quiet, relaxing sort of activity, zen-like and leisurely this past Saturday morning. But there we were, half an hour into it at 9:30, and the noise in the kitchen was so deafening you could’ve convinced me a train was running straight through the vineyard down below.

Cary Becraft had agreed to give me a lesson in dark chocolate technique at her production kitchen at Anthony Road Wine Company, where her husband, Peter, is Assistant Winemaker.

I’d had an inkling of what goes into a box of chocolates -- the word “temper” had crossed my mind -- but I definitely wasn’t expecting Cary to pound the molds against the stainless steel table again and again, her spritely frame producing a spine-tingling crash that reverberated throughout the room.

“Sorry!” She looked up, over her tortoise-shell glasses, and giggled. “It’s kind of loud.”

Cary is the owner and sole operator of CaryMo Chocolates, a gourmet chocolate and candy company based in the Finger Lakes. Chocolates are available at a variety of Finger Lakes locations, but your best bet is currently at Fox Run Winery, Zugibe Vineyards, or online at CaryMo Chocolates. Prices for her artisan chocolates range from $9 for a two-piece box to $40 for a 24-piece box. She also sells chocolate bars for as little as $3. Gift baskets and special pricing are also available.

She runs every aspect of the business, from flavor conception to chocolate production to packaging and selling. All this, in addition to working as a freelance stylist in the fashion industry, as well as taking care of her three-year-old son, Giles, gives her little time to rest. But Cary keeps it in perspective.

“I like being busy,” she said when I asked how she manages it all. And then she paused. “Well, I like being lazy too. But once I get going, I get into the groove.”

The way I see it, she hasn’t gotten out of the groove since her time as a pastry chef at the River Café in New York City. It was there that she learned the craft of making chocolates, and soon began selling them under the name CaryMo in addition to churning out desserts daily at the restaurant. Her confections earned a cult-like following, and soon she was selling at Stinky Bklyn, an artisan cheese and specialty food shop in New York, while creating custom orders for customers begging for her grey salt caramel chocolates.

She and her husband had made their life in Brooklyn, but when the opportunity arose to explore a new lifestyle on Seneca Lake, they couldn’t say no to the intrigue of starting over. Peter took a job working at Anthony Road and moved to the Finger Lakes, first living in an Airstream trailer outside the winery. Cary moved shortly after, and they made the transition to a bigger house.

There was never any doubt about whether her decadent, high-end chocolates could find a market in New York City. The question was whether she could attract a following in a much less densely populated area.

Fortunately, Cary found that the winemakers and restaurateurs in the Finger Lakes provided a backdrop that meshed with her vision almost seamlessly. Not only did she begin selling in local wineries, she began using Finger Lakes product in her chocolates. She’s experimented with beer, and one of the most evocative selections on her roster is a dark chocolate bite molded into a miniature wine barrel and filled with a caramel made of Anthony Road red wine.

That wine barrel mold was what was making so much noise that morning. Over the sound, Cary yelled to me, “I do this so all of the little air bubbles escape out of the chocolate.” I leaned closer and saw tiny bubbles rising to the surface of the liquid chocolate and popping, leaving behind a smooth, dark sheen.

I told her that she was patient and articulate enough to teach classes. “Yeah, but who would do this at home?” she asked. I thought back to earlier that morning, when she methodically melted chocolate over a double boiler, then took it off the heat and stirred it until it was cool to the touch: tempering, she had explained. It did seem like an awful lot of work.

But she sure did make it look fun. As she explained that tempering the chocolate makes for chocolate that’s slick and shiny, not granular, she plopped dime-sized discs of dark chocolate into the big mixing bowl. “My chocolate ice cubes,” she said with a grin. “They’ll melt into the liquid and cool it down further. The big companies do this with a huge machine" -- she made a grand sweeping motion with her arm -- “but I temper by hand.”

She does it by feel, too, dabbing a smear of melted chocolate onto the skin above her upper-lip every few minutes, giving herself a jauntily comical moustache. I wagered that the patch of sensitive skin helped her better gauge the temperature, and while she agreed, she didn’t place too much significance on it. “It’s just how I learned.”

After tempering the chocolate, polishing the plastic molds with cotton and cooling a thin shell of chocolate in each one, we were ready to fill them. Her flavors are constantly evolving and changing, and that day we were working with red wine reductions from both Anthony Road and Zugibe, peanut butter and creamed honey, cranberry and crystallized ginger, orange blossom buttercream and a thick curry and sesame cream. I took a bite of each candy, savoring the way the fillings burst onto my tongue then dissolved, leaving behind only a memory and hint of good, dark chocolate. I went back for seconds on the orange blossom buttercream, an elegantly floral concoction that’s light and ethereal, a far cry from the sticky-thick and sweet cream fillings of my youth.

We used piping bags and small spoons to fill the shells with flavor, then Cary poured another layer of tempered chocolate over the mold. After using an off-set spatula and, what looked to my untrained eye like a spackling tool, to scrape off the excess, she set the chocolates back in the refrigerator to harden completely.

As we cleaned the workspace, we chatted and visited with her son who had sauntered in, asking for some “medicine.” (Cary gave him a small handful of white chocolate chips, which he ate one by one and after, made a contented cooing sort of noise. She smiled.)

When the chocolates were finished, she placed a large sheet of parchment on the table and inverted the trays. She tensed for a moment and mouthed the word “Sorry!” before slamming the mold onto the table. The chocolates came tumbling out and she immediately began inspecting each one. “It just kills me if any of them have gaps or holes in the bottom,” she said. None of them did, but I wondered why it would matter. Most people don’t look at the bottom of a chocolate, do they? “Well, yes, that’s true. Except me,” she said.

We lined the chocolate in tight rows on a baking sheet. As I readied my camera for a picture, Cary pointed to the row of crown-shaped chocolates, filled with cranberry and ginger. They were gleaming, as if they’d been polished. “Aren’t they so cute?” She asked, dancing a bit and letting her short, pixie-like hair move with her. “I just love this.”

In Geneva, Opus Wine & Espresso Bar Gives Small-Town Dining New Meaning

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent
Photos by Stu Gallagher

Passing through Geneva, one might be inclined to write off Opus Espresso and Wine Bar as just another eatery in a college town already saturated with pizza shops and fast-food spots.

Local foodies know better.

Nestled between buildings on the long stretch of downtown Geneva, just an espresso bean's throw from Main Moon Chinese Restaurant and a Philly cheesesteak takeout joint, Opus doesn’t seem like the type of place to be serving up fresh, inspired food with good coffee and great wine. It doesn’t seem like the type of place to make its own granola or serve a breakfast panini with homemade basil pesto, either. And yet. For an eater who demands innovative flavor combinations and a sophisticated, big-city atmosphere to go along with them, Opus just might be the jackpot.

Owners Heather Tompkins and Chelsey Madia began doing business at 486 Exchange St. and haven't stopped moving since. A satellite Opus operates out of Fox Run Vineyards on Seneca Lake until January of 2012 – it opens again in April – and a second satellite recently closed for the season at Rooster Hill Vineyards on Keuka. It’s Tompkins’ and Madia’s hope that they’ll soon have a restaurant on multiple lakes in the region, beckoning wine drinkers with fresh food that pairs well. Their short but snazzy wine list doesn’t hurt either. Fox Run, Rooster Hill and Zugibe represent the region with riesling, gewurztraminer, chardonnay and merlot, but the list reaches as far as Italy and France with a Prosecco and a white Bordeaux.

Armed with rave reviews, I decided to visit Opus for myself on a recent Saturday afternoon. Having gotten a late start for the drive, I found myself careening down 96A at 1:15 p.m., hoping to make it in time for a proper meal before the restaurant closed. I was admittedly skeptical as to how much business a wine bar that stopped service at 2 p.m. could do (their hours have since changed; more on that in a moment), but as I’d heard nothing but praise that bordered on manic dedication, I tried to remain open-minded.

I needn’t have worried. When I arrived shortly before 1:30 p.m., the restaurant was packed. Hip-looking customers, including a man with a fedora and a woman with artfully ripped purple stockings, were perched at tall tables in front of the storefront. Inside, sleepy-sexy music played and a long line of customers hungrily eyed the menu, splashed on the wall from a projector affixed to the ceiling. A list of available sandwiches and salads outlined the day’s offerings, and while most are pre-made, special orders and substitutions aren’t unheard of. I know; I made one. A butternut squash sandwich on ciabatta tempted, but when I asked for cheddar instead of the specified Brie, the staff happily obliged.

Opus does not overlook small details; the salmon in the pickled beet and smoked Gouda sandwich is wild-caught, the onions are gently caramelized on the roast beef and blue cheese, and the house-made macaroni and cheese is topped with candied walnuts – and hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Tompkins says that customers frequently request the cinnamon-cranberry French toast sticks and grilled cheese and tomato soup. “We have a little bit of something for everyone,” she said over the phone, with what I imagined to be a modest sort of shrug. “We think that simple, clean ingredients are the best way to eat.”

The interior of the restaurant has been given the same sort of careful attention. A big, artfully rusted steel OPUS sign welcomes customers, and the lighting weaves and snakes around the ceiling on a lazy track. Head to the restroom at the back of the room, and you might catch a glimpse of the kitchen. It’s a lovely space, separated from the dining room by a door that rarely seems to be closed. It doesn’t look so much like industrial food preparation area as it does child’s whimsical representation of what a kitchen should be, all light and airy and bright.

Until recently, Opus was open only for breakfast and lunch, but they’ve recently put extended hours into action. In addition to the original schedule (Monday-Friday, 7 a.m. -4 p.m. and Saturday, 8 a.m. -2 p.m.), they’re now operating from 5 p.m. -8 p.m. on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights – with plans to extend hours even later in the coming weeks. The new schedule kicked off just last weekend, but the previously abbreviated hours didn’t seem to deter the droves of locals or tourists. In fact, Tompkins explained that it was the onslaught of customers that kept them too busy to expand their business model. But they’re open now, she explained, and excited about the different nighttime vibe.

The evening hours bring a modified menu that leans heavily on made-to-order appetizers and tapas-style dishes, including tartines, fondue and crabcakes. Also worth noting: in a business plan that’s as sure a shot as any, they’re introducing raw oysters next week.

During our phone conversation, Tompkins and Madia’s voices brightened when I asked where they found the inspiration for such an honest, sophisticated and hip restaurant in such an unsuspecting place. “We ate all over,” Madia said before citing Montreal as a direct influence. “It’s an old city with young people.” She paused again, and in the silence I pictured Geneva, with its weathered facades and fresh faces. “You know,” she finished, “We just wanted to build something that reflected us, our taste.”

At the Black Sheep Inn, Organic is More than a Buzzword

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent

“Come here, you,” Debbie Meritsky cooed, coaxing a brown cow closer to her. It batted its eyes and licked her hand. “Oh!” she said, and added with a sweet-as-pie grin, I’ll take that tongue and eat it!”

The cow might have thought she was kidding.

Debbie and I had paid a visit to Ever Green Farm in Rock Stream, NY, as part of the day of cooking I’d scheduled with her. I’d asked her the week prior if she was game for an interview and she agreed -- under the condition that I also meet Joe and Joely Zerbey, the farmers in charge of her CSA. The Zerbeys were giving us a tour of their land, and between the bright rainbow chard and spaghetti squash, white turkeys and those big-eyed cows, I was beginning to understand why she wanted me to see this.

We packed her share of the week’s produce in reusable grocery bags, but not before getting a lesson in melon astronomy. A deep blue-green one with perfect tiny yellow circles looked just like the night sky. “A moon and stars melon. It’s an heirloom,” Debbie explained to me, and the Zerbeys added that the flesh was just as sweet, if a bit lighter in color, than other varieties.

On the drive back to the Black Sheep Inn (pictured above right, photo by Stu Gallagher) in Hammondsport, NY, where Debbie is the chef and she and her husband, Marc Rotman, share duties as co-owners, we let conversation wander. I had come armed with a list of questions about her background, culinary outlook, favorite ingredients, but we found ourselves chatting like old friends about everything from raising children to holistic medicine. That’s a huge part of her appeal. She’s so honest, unguarded, so at ease with who she is and what she stands for, that it’s near-impossible not to get excited about her interpretation of food when she’s cooking.

Arrive a skeptic and you will very likely leave a convert.

Meritsky and Rotman are already an integral part of Hammondsport’s fabric even though they’re recent transplants. They made the move from Cleveland, where she worked as a chef and caterer. “I always kind of knew that I wouldn’t stay there forever,” she said. “I wanted to see new places, do different things.” It was the house at 8329 Pleasant Valley Road that they fell in love with first. The Black Sheep Inn is an octagonal structure -– a style of architecture increasingly difficult to find -– and Meritsky and Rotman found themselves not just repairing the house, but creating a business model based on organic, local, responsible and sustainable living.

They pride themselves on having a good discourse with their clients: those who stay at the Black Sheep aren’t just looking for a place to crash after a whirlwind wine tour. They’re people who care about supporting small farmers, get excited about the fact that Meritsky and Rotman make all of their own cleaning supplies, and of course, understand the merits of a hearty, locally-sourced meal to start the day.

Debbie cooks breakfast every morning for her guests, along with snacks, picnics and other treats, in the kitchen she and Rotman designed and built. It’s a beautiful space. The room is anchored by a thick wooden butcher’s block and flanked by a wall of spices, herbs and oils and two large ovens. A striking hood looms from the ceiling. The efficiency of the room gives the feel of a professional kitchen but it’s warmed by homey touches, like well-seasoned cast-iron pans and a wooden stirring spoon with a big hole in the middle that she just can’t bring herself to throw out. “Well, it still works,” she said unapologetically.

We had planned to prepare three of her most popular breakfasts: a vegetable and cheddar sandwich soaked in egg and cream and baked in the oven; a hollowed and stuffed zucchini; and a hold-all crock that comes out of the oven bubbling and hot, layered with potatoes, goat Brie-style cheese and Portobello mushrooms. As Debbie sliced golden squash and mustard greens for the sandwich, she handed me a bowl with the egg and thick cream. “Here, you can stir this.”

“With this?” The bowl had a patterned chopstick in it.

She shrugged and laughed. “I call myself the lazy cook. I use whatever’s closest.”

It’s a peculiar assertion for someone who takes no shortcuts and wastes nothing. Every vegetable scrap, from garlic paper to carrot tops, goes into the stockpot consistently simmering away on the stovetop. She later strains it through a fine mesh sieve in traditional French style, removing any impurities and leaving intensely flavored broth to be used later for cooking.

Like many great restaurant chefs, she pays close attention to the flavors inherent in the food she cooks and tries to enhance, not manipulate them. But there’s one big difference between her and the current trend in restaurants: “I hate, hate, hate stacked food,” she said. “What do you do with it? How do you eat it?”

I asked what she considered to be the most important element in presenting her meals to her guests. She didn’t skip a beat. “Does it taste good? Do [the flavors] work together? Does it flow?"

At Black Sheep, from the fascinating architecture to the food to the philosophy underpinning it all, it flows. Nodding to the food, Debbie added, "When you see it, you should be able to tell exactly what it is.”

Getting to Know Brud Holland, Red Newt's New Executive Chef

Red Newt Bistro's new executive chef, Brud Holland, working the line.

By Rochelle Bilow, Finger Lakes Food Correspondent

Though he has the credentials and skills to brag, Brud Holland is not an egotistical cook. The new executive chef at Red Newt Bistro in Hector, NY, tends to shy away from the limelight, preferring to give attention to the food itself and the kitchen staff who creates it. He’s adamant that he doesn’t yearn for big-city praise and exposure, and his face poorly hides a wry grin when the term “celebrity chef” is mentioned.

And then there’s his name. He often reminds people of its pronunciation by rhyming it to the word crud, not missing a beat when questioned further. “I never really dug the whole 'Brud-the-Stud' thing. That was more high school,” he said as we chatted last Saturday before the lunch rush at the Newt. The name is actually a nickname, but when his mother was pregnant, the family couldn’t resist the charm of his sister telling everyone she was excited to get a little “brudder.” They named him Donald but “Brud just stuck,” he said with a laugh. “I like it.”

Interviewing Holland is more like playing tag-along -- physically, as he moves from the oven to the proofing box full of bread dough and back again, and mentally, as conversation hops from favorite foods to childhood memories to what makes a truly great vegetarian meal. (For the record, he claims he’s still working on figuring that one out.) His glasses are slightly scuffed, his hair a bit unruly, and he has an endearing sort of manic energy that’s easy to latch onto.

When I arrived at Red Newt, we sat down at a table on the deck overlooking the surrounding fields. We weren’t sitting long. Almost immediately, Holland jumped up and motioned for me to follow. “I want to show you what we’re working on,” he said as he disappeared into the small kitchen. I followed him and was met with the heady scent of yeast and herbs. “I’m drawn to baking because it’s so scientific,” he explained, turning a sheet pan of focaccia around 180 degrees and closing the oven door. “And I think that carries over to the rest of my cooking.” He paused for a rare moment, choosing his words carefully. “I think there’s a right way to do things in the kitchen, on the hot line.”

I asked for an example. “Chicken,” he responded. “I know the proper way to sear chicken. You can’t use olive oil, for one thing. It’s cold-pressed and the smoke point isn’t high enough. I prefer grapeseed oil for that; its smoke point is 485 degrees. Plus, it has nutritional value,” he said before stopping himself. “Is this too technical?”

Holland’s cooking style may be heavily technical, but it doesn’t taste like it: molecular gastronomy this is not. Each dish feels familiar and accessible, like the comfort food you make at home -- only better. A Moroccan chicken sandwich tasted luxurious, the faint heat from the spice-crusted chicken tempered by a creamy black bean and yogurt spread. A cheddar cheese and apple dip, served with more of that housemade bread, was a responsibly seasonable nod: Holland isn’t pummeling us with pumpkin pie spices, but rather letting diners catch a glimpse of the flavors the region has to offer in the fall. The soup of the day was a velvety potato-leek, and a smoked salmon and potato tartlet arrived tasting -- and looking -- impeccable, despite his sheepish admission that a stuck timer on the oven had caused yesterday’s batch to become “salvageable, but not ideal.”

Holland prides himself on everything that comes out of his kitchen, but it’s the seemingly limitless variations of bread recipes in his cache he’s best known for. “A friend was eating here the other day,” he said, “And he told me that when he bit into the bread, he could just ‘tell I was there.’”

The bread is good. Light and full of air pockets, in the case of his focaccia, and nutty with a hint of beer, in the case of the honey-oat sourdough. I was also lucky enough to leave with a loaf of one of his experimental varieties: a hearty sourdough made with spent barley. I inhaled it.

And if Brud’s outlook on food -- his passion and patience, the feeling that you just know him after eating at the Red Newt -- sounds familiar, it’s because he is intent on carrying on the traditions of Debra Whiting, the bistro’s original owner and chef. The two were collaborators and friends, both having taught culinary classes at 171 Cedar Arts in Corning, NY and sharing meals together with their families. He plans to honor Deb’s memory by maintaining the calm, warm and educational feel of the Newt’s kitchen, and continuing to offer the dishes and plates she was best known for. “There are some things we’ll keep on the menu forever,” he said.

The transition from patron and friend to the Newt and Dave Whiting, the winemaker and owner -- and Deb’s husband -- to chef and business partner felt organic to Holland. “We all have nicknames for each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, though he claimed he couldn’t recall them all right then.

Brud’s infectious enthusiasm for cooking, eating well and pairing the whole experience with wine can assure Red Newt fans that the bistro will remain one of the most welcoming dining rooms in the Finger Lakes.

What We Drank (September 13, 2011)

Today marks the triumphant return of "What We Drank" after a brief late-summer hiatus.

As always, here's what our editors and contributors have been drinking.

Mark Grimaldi: Ameztoi "Rubentis" Txakolina 2010

Yes, rosé again.  But not just any rosé. 

Txakolina is always, if you can find it, the quintessential summer quaffer. Now make it a rosé and you've damn near found the key to life.

A close friend from the city brought this out to our house one weekend this spring.

That Monday after, I asked a friend who owns a local wine shop if he would order it for me, and after we all geeked out about it, he ended up getting three cases that we split among 4 of us. It's comprised of 50% Hondarribi Beltza and 50% Hondarribi Zuri from the Getaria region of Basque in Spain.

Simply put, this is hands down the best rosé I have ever had. I was floored. A beautiful light strawberry color, with a nose of peaches, raspberries and citrus.

It's perfectly fizzy, with stone fruits, sweet but tart fruit on the mid palate reminiscent of a fresh glass of cranberry juice, finished with a beam of tart, mouth-watering acid and the perfect effervescence of a club soda with tiny, palate-coating bubbles.

At an alcohol of 10.5%,  we polished this bottle off so fast that it was dangerous. Be careful with this one, it's hard to have just one. 

 

Rochelle Bilow: Sheldrake Point Vineyards 2010 Gewurztraminer

Because I am heavily involved with the release of the 2010 vintage of Finger Lakes Rieslings this month,
it seems like they’re all I’m drinking. But that’s not so! I proved it on Sunday with Stu as we took a rare
day of all play and no work in the Finger Lakes.

We set up a picnic on the lawn at Sheldrake Point on Cayuga Lake and opened a bottle of their 2010
Gewurztraminer. It has a tremendous floral and spice nose that follows through on the palate. It leans
much more toward rose and dried lavender than the often-found tropical fruits, though there was a fair
amount of lychee that cropped up after a few minutes in the glass. I find with all Gewurztraminer, but this
one especially, that spending some time with the aroma is as fun as drinking it.

I loved this wine as an early fall choice – it feels more substantial and hefty than the Rieslings I’ve been
drinking, but it’s still much more lighthearted than the Cabernet Francs and Meritage blends I’m not quite
ready for.

 

Evan Dawson: Hermann J. Wiemer 2002 Blanc de Blancs

This was one of the rare occasions when we decided to open a sparkling wine to celebrate a big occasion. Typically, we try to incorporate sparkling as a nice food wine with friends, big occasion or not.

 

The wine world will be better off when sparkling wine is no longer viewed by many consumers as a strictly celebratory drink.

 

This wine was the first I grabbed from our sparkling rack. It has filled out nicely, a kind of baked bread coarsened by tingly acidity. Ideal sparkling wine for the region.

How was it that we allowed some mass-produced "champagne" to take us down this road of reserving such wines for festive occasions?

 

Aaron Estes: Templeton Rye

As much as I enjoy craft beer and New York wines, I grew up a scotch and whiskey drinker. On my 30th birthday, my father gave me a bottle of 30 year old Macallan that I continue to parse out, dram by dram, slowly but surely. I am hoping that it reaches my 40th birthday, as it is probably the finest whiskey I have ever tasted.  

But I digress...  This edition of WWD is about an American tradition that is gaining traction among those that follow what is hip and trendy. I am talking about rye.

A friend of mine, actually a fellow camp-mate from Burning Man (Thanks Genie!), first spoke of the taste and amazing qualities of Templeton Rye when we were on the Playa last year. Fashioned after the original recipe back in the days of Prohibition, Templeton out of Iowa is said to be created from the same recipe that Al Capone favored back in his days as the crime lord of Chicago. It was his preferred whiskey, and what he drank throughout his days while eluding the likes of Elliott Ness and the other members of the Chicago PD.

Can there be a better endorsement?

Templeton is smooth. Really smooth. It almost evaporates as soon as it hits the tongue. There is just a hint of smoke, but not harsh even in the slightest. A touch of sweetness, a bit of caramel, and a delicate scent of cedar on the nose.

This is a whiskey to be savored and cherished. I bring it out every now and then when I have had a difficult day at the office, or a weekend to share with friends who appreciate the same. Templeton is fantastic. I urge you all to find a bottle and enjoy a taste from American history.

 

Lenn Thompson: Ruckus Brewing Hoptimus Prime

Based on their performance, my favorite team, the Steelers, may not have realized it, but the NFL season kicked off over the weekend. I have a my myriad of superstitions tied to my watching of Steelers games -- and drinking at least one Pennsylvania-brewed beer during the game is chief among them.

Although Ruckus Brewing is headquartered in New York, NY, the beer is brewed in in Wilkes-Barre, PA -- not exactly Steelers country, but still within the boundaries of my home state.

Hoptimus Prime is a Double IPA style and it shows on the palate. There is some serious heft and density to the mouthfeel here.

The nose is classic American hoppiness -- all grapefruit and lemon with floral herbiness and just a little pine -- with some definite malty sweetness beneath.

I was actually a bit worried about that sweetness as I took my first sip, but I shouldn't have been. All those hops bring more than enough bitterness to scrub away the candy sugar and lift the citrus and pine qualities. It's a little thick for game day drinking (I started with it, but should have ended with it) but the bitterness nicely matched how I was feeling as I watched the game.

 

David Flaherty: Bonnezeaux, Chateau Perray Jouannet, Les Menus Clos, Loire, 2009

I don't get to drink enough sweet wines.  Well..let me rephrase that, I don't get to drink enough good sweet wines. 

For the last ten years that I have sold, studied, swirled and slugged wine, there has been one phrase uttered over and over again by people who are breaking into the world of wine (or at least trying to pick up a bottle that will impress the girl they're trying to woo): "I don't like sweet wines."  And I get it.  A lot of cheap swill has residual sugar and has gained a whack reputation (Boone's Strawberry Hill tonight, my darling?).  But a lot of the great wines of the world are sweet...and white.

I tried a Bonnezeaux the other day at a tasting of Loire wines and was floored. 

Such nervy acidity, such depth of character. Rich, honeyed fruit and such life, this liquid treasure could age and age for years to come. It sang from the glass. 

Bonnezeaux is a tiny area of the western Loire in the Anjou region where only white, sweet wines are permitted under AOC law. It is chenin blanc at its most expressive. I took pause, sat back in my chair and zapped into the experience...and the moment. 

That is what good wines do. Let me rephrase that: that is what great wines do.

 

Video: Exploring Finger Lakes Riesling with Rochelle Bilow and John Wagner

Video courtesy of Finger Lakes Wine Country

Our new Finger Lakes Food Correspondent, Rochelle Bilow, is serving in an official capacity for FLWC's 2010 Riesling Launch later this month. As a part of that, she visits Wagner Vineyards to discuss riesling with owner and winemaker John Wagner.

NYCR Expands Food Coverage, Adds Bilow and Seels to Team

By Lenn Thompson, Executive Editor

Wine is most certainly food, but beyond our cheese coverage, we haven't done a great job introducing you to New York's seemingly endless food artisans. In fact, it's been almost non-existent. That's why today's dual announcement that Dave Seel and Rochelle Bilow are joining the NYCR staff to expand our food coverage is so exciting.

Rochelle Bilow doesn't just consider cooking, eating and seeking out the best food around her job -- she considers it her life. She prides herself on being “food-obsessed” and works to make good, honest food accessible and exciting to everyone.

In addition to serving as the Finger Lakes Wine & Food Ambassador for Finger Lakes Wine Country and Finger Lakes Wine Alliance, Rochelle is a food columnist at the Syracuse Post-Standard. She attended culinary school at the French Culinary Institute and lived and cooked in Manhattan before coming home to Upstate New York.

Rochelle combines a genuine love for the Finger Lakes with an impressively large appetite, and will be writing not just about the restaurants of the region, but the farmers, artisans and everything in between.

Downstate on Long Island, Dave Seel will fill a similar role, covering the growers, chefs and artisans in and around Long Island wine country.

Having driven cross country nine times, Dave a veteran food adventurer. He's caught lobsters in Maine, eaten fresh venison in The Redwoods, and though once was a vegetarian, he fell prey to bacon and has a love affair with bison.

While living in California, he became obsessed with Napa Cabs, Anderson Valley Pinots and Truffle Tremor goat cheese. When not teaching students about the San Francisco Estuary, he was adventuring in wine country and the neighborhoods of San Francisco, discovering the brilliance of California cuisine.

He is a strong advocate for producing food and libations locally and supporting regional food systems.

After a brief stint in the wine industry, Dave moved back to his native Long Island to be closer to family. He brought a love of food adventuring, wine, and local food and was very excited to discover the food scenes of NYC and The East End.

Please join me in welcoming them to the site and look for their first posts over the next couple of weeks.