San Lucas Seafood, Puerto Vallarta

We spent our recent honeymoon on the beach in the Vallartas of Mexico- Puerto and Nuevo, and for the most part, we did absolutely nothing. It was fabulous. After the long, harrowing, ebullient, tiring, fabulous, stressful, and joyous year of planning and being the stars of a wedding, all that you really want to do is lay on a beach, swim in the ocean, sleep, and drink pina colodas and beer. So we did. With guacamole on top.
And then one day, we put down our frosty, lime-garnished beverages and left the resort. We took a bus to Puerto Vallarta, where we walked around, took a couple of photos, and ate what was the best meal of our vacation. This post is a story of that meal.
Being the food geek that I am, I did research back in Oakland about where to go in Puerto Vallarta for some awesome, non-tourist trap seafood. Then I left the sheet of paper with my notes at home. So where we ended up, and the gloriousness that our meal happened to be was truly a gift from the food gods, for all that we did was stop walking when we got tired and decide to give in to our growling stomachs.
The joint was called San Lucas, and located over a motorcyle tourism shop. We identified the restaurant through a street sign that directed us to the second floor of the establishment, where we found red tiled floors, brightly colored table clothes, wooden railing serving as walls over the bustling street below, and a kitchen that was five feet away from our table, also completley open. After a quick menu browse, we ordered our food.

Normally I order wine at a restaurant. However, I was a little discouraged because the resort where we were staying featured Gallo as thier vino de casa and I hadn't seen much more in the Vallarta region to indicate that better wine was being offered. Hence, I stupidly did not ask to see the wine list, and regretted my decision as we were leaving when I saw some local workers swirling white wine in thier glasses. Stupid. Stupid. But if I did order wine at a restaurant like this, the varietals that I would seek would be very citrusey, and white or pink. The lemon or lime flavors in a wine would highlight this streak in the food. I would choose white or a rosé, because it was smokin' hot and humid in Puerto Vallarta, and I wanted to wrap my hands around something chilled. I'd happily sip a Vinho Verde from Portugal, for example, or a French, Spanish or Mexican Rosé that has that citrus "pop!" and acidity to it. Anyway, the beer worked very well.

Then our food came. The first dish to arrive on the table was our tostadas. We ordered ceviche and octupus to top the crispy, lard-fried tortillas, and were absolutley wowed by the quality and tenderness of the seafood. The ceviche was made of beautiful fish, marinated in lime and a touch of garlic. Salt, sure, but nothing much else. Just big, fresh flavors with little interuption. The octupus on the other tostada couldn't have been better either. Ordering octupus is always a tricky thing. Some people cook it well- they tenderize it either by cooking it for a long period of time, or they pound the hell out of it until it screams for mercy and softens. Lesser cooks cook it until it resembles a fine rubber. But the restaurant had a feeling about it that suggested that the cooks really knew what they were doing, so we ordered the octupus. I am happy to say that the cooks really did know what they were doing, and it was some of the best octupus I've had in my life- super tender, soft, and fresher than Will Smith. And did I mention that it was on a lard-fried tortilla? Swoon.

The last dish to arrive was our Camarones al Diablo. It's a traditional dish of the area which is a blend of Spanish and Mexican cultures- gigantic Mexican shrimp, onions, tomatoes, chiles, peppers, green olives, and SPICES. Sometimes. It seems to morph into an different dish wherever I see it. Sometimes with olives, sometimes with a salsa instead of cooked onions and tomatoes. Here, it was at its height. The flavors melded perfectly, the tomatoes provided an acidity that inspired the sweetness of the shrimp to shine, and the size of the camarones made my hand look small (see above picture). We each had our own shrimp and split the last.

Ah.... the last benefit to the meal was the tequilla tray. After our bellies began to extend and our beers were nothing but bubbles at the bottom of the bottle, our waiter rolled a tray to our table. He explained to us that we could pick anything off the tray, free of charge. Our choices ranged from tequilla, creme de menthe to khalua. We choose tequilla, and the waiter set down lime slices for the pairing. We salted ourselves up, shot the tequilla, and finished the meal with a lime and a smile.

All in all, it was an awesome experience that was the cherry on top of our uber-relaxing trip. And although it wasn't exactly a food and wine pairing post, I couldn't help but want to share this experience, even sans vino, because I know that someday, one of you will want to know where to go for the best seafood ever in Puerto Vallarta. And maybe you wont leave your notes at home.

What to do with a Young Burgundy

Although the year of 2007 will forever be remembered as the year when both The Cure and The Spice Girls announced their wildly anticipated reunion tours (insert squeal here), the year will no doubt linger in wine lover’s minds for yet another reason. Wine lovers will remember 2007 as the year when the tremendous 2005 Burgundy vintage was released. It’s being said that this will be the best French Pinot Noirs of the decade.
While the majority of wine connoisseurs will buy these Super Pinot Noirs with the intention of cellaring them until maturity smoothes their deep tannins and high acidity, there are those, like myself, who buy the wine to drink it. Now.
There are a couple things I do when set on consuming young Burgundies when they’re waiting to come out of their shell. First, I think Bourgogne Rouge rather Grand Cru. Bourgogne Rouges are the Burgundies that winemakers generally craft for people to enjoy while the Cru wines are aging in a dark cellar. Second, I decant them to tame their edges and introduce them gently to the world. Third I always drink these wines with food. Furthermore foods with higher fat contents, helps to cushions the high acidity and tannins inherent to young wines.

Things I’d eat with an elegant, yet fierce, young Burgundy such as the 2005 Domaine Henri Perrot-Minot “Vielles Vignes” Bourgogne Rouge:

First, charcuterie rocks. Enjoying a Charcuterie plate at the Solano Cellars Wine Bar is naturally the best choice, as it provides a diverse arrangement of Café Rouge and Fra’Mani patés, rilletes and salumies on an exquisite cheeseboard. Sometimes you even get a rosemary sprig. However, charcuterie eaten at home or on a picnic blanket will suffice. The fat and proteins in the meat will bring out the silky qualities in the wine.

With the charcuterie, I’d serve a stinky and creamy washed-rind cows milk cheese. Emphasis on the creamy and the cow. Epoisse cheese, the famous oozing cheese of the Burgundy appellation whose rind is washed with Marc de Bourgogne, would pair beautiful with the region’s Pinot Noir. When in doubt of what cheeses to serve with what wines, look to France. Cheeses and wines from the same region nearly always taste good together and can inspire other pairing. For example, Cowgirl Creamery’s Red Hawk is washed (rubbed) with salted water en lieu of Marc, but would also be an excellent choice for the Burgundy.

If I want to cook for my Burgundy, I’d grill myself a steak. But no tenderloins here- I want something marbled like a Rib-Eye or Flank Steak to coax the wine out of its shell. I’d also toss some rosemary and garlic potatoes in the oven with fennel. A roasted chicken or “chicken under a brick” might also fare well with this wine, but I’d stay away from pork unless you’re going with a fattier, heritage breed (Red Wattle) or luscious cut.

When in the mood for cooking vegetarian dishes, I’d choose a béchamel-based lasagna (tomatoes will only clash with the Burgundy) or a hearty Mac n Cheese. Think food that sticks to your bones.

The above post is an adaption of my writings for the wine shop/bar where I work. I hope that you've enjoyed it.
Kirstin

Summery Spanish Wines & Light BBQ

To celebrate my husband's birthday, we invited my cousin and her man over to our place for exuberant birthday bash for four. And by exuberant I mean that there was tons of food and wine and that I added chocolate chips to a cupcake recipe that didn't call for it. This post is the wine and food story of that night.

The food (albeit the Oreo cupcakes) was mainly Thai and Vietnamese inspired, but cooked by a very Scandinavian-American girl. The wines were all Spanish. The dinner menu starred my version of the carrot, cucumber, bell-pepper and light fish-sauce salad often served atop cold Vietnamese rice noodle dishes. Also sharing the stage were lime, honey and chili marinated skewered shrimp, and grilled flank steak served over wide rice noodles in a spicey, kaffir lime, lemongrass Thai inspired coconut sauce.



I choose Spanish wines for this Birthday Bash for three reasons. One, they were reasonably priced and my excellent foresight told me that we'd consume from two to three bottles between us friends. Two, because I'm enamoured with Spanish wines (especially the whites, sparklings and rosés) and was selfishly catering to my happiness even on my husband's birthday night. Three, I chose Spanish wines for the menu because they can be awesome matches for Vietnamese and Thai spices and flavors and seafood.

I popped our first wine while waiting for our guests. Our invitees claimed not to be huge fans of white wine, so I took it upon myself to thwart thier past experiences by unleashing an Albarino. Albarinos are meant to charm. They're from the Galacian coast of Spain and classically paired with seafood at Spanish tapas bars. With their apple, peachy, lime and sometimes floral scents, they're instant pleasers. Furthermore, they've got enough going on in the glass that they can handle a little spice. Each dish I prepared for the dinner had lime juice, zest, or leaf mixed in, which I thought would play up the lime streak and cozy up to crisp and stoney fruits in the wine. Worked well. We sipped this while I put the finishing touches on the salad and headed to the BBQ to cook the shrimp and flank steak. Then we opened the Super Wine of the night.

My only firm and fast wine rule for a celebration such as a birthday, anniversary, or Christmas, is that something sparkling must be included amoungst the wine entourage. Birthdays just don't happen without bubbles. The bubbles don't have to be big, but they have to be present. Such reasoning led to the second wine that we drank that night- a Txakolina Rose from Spain. This was my favorite. It was luscious, oh so pink, peachy and rasberry-ie and tart and slightly. Txakolina (shock-oh-lee-nah) is the name of a Basque, Spanish wine made traditionally with the Hondarribi Zuri and Hondarribi Beltza grapes. They're meant to drinken within a year or two after bottling, and will be, because you just can't help yourself. Most Txakolinas aren't Roses, but are just as enchanting as the pink bottle that we poured that night. Their pear, tart apple and lime flavors compete for attention with the tiny, spritzy bubbles that fill the glass. And bubbles go with almost anything. They snuggled up to the coconut milk and spicy shrimp, and even handeled the marbling in the rich flank steak. I looovvee this wine only slightly less than my man.

Towards the end of the night we slipped a light Spanish Grenache on the table. Just in case someone wanted a little red with the flank steak. Spanish Grenaches (Garnachas) can be pretty dark and heady, but our's that night was a lighter style, with blackberry, stoney scents. And I didn't just serve it because it was also left over from our wedding wine, I served it because Garnachas are great red wines for spicey foods. They're spicey themselves, and the pepper streak in the grape can handle a chile or two.

Finally, we ended our night with a Birthday dessert request of cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes with chocolate chips topped with cream cheese frosting and crushed Oreos. Muddlers are great Oreo crushers. It was a fantastic end for the night. My cousin and I ate two, and the guys ate three each. And I was just going to prepare a half dozen.

green blog

green blog
Originally uploaded by Kirstin Jackson

a test from the writer who's trying to figure out profile picture posting from a mac

Who's a Gooseberry Now?

I'm not a gooseberry. Sure, I'm ocassionally known to be spunky, but I'm way too sweet to be anything like the little green sour gooseberry ball that exlodes like an unripe plum in your mouth. Did I say they taste like unripe plums? I meant unripe plum SKINS.


What is a gooseberry and why am I talking about it?
Other than being a bush-grown berry commonly found in Europe (especially Britian), Asia and ocassionally in the Eastern United States, it is a fruit that the elusive wine writers often refer to when describing the flavors of Sauvignon Blanc.
Example:
"the sauvignon blanc is crisp, grapefruit scented and bursting with gooseberry nuances."

What does a gooseberry taste and smell like?
It's good to know this so that you'll have an idea of what a wine writer means when they're describing a Sauvingon Blanc with "gooseberry characteristics" Because, lets's be honest, the wine writer probably won't tell you what they mean.
Beyond what I described above, the little green gems taste spicey. Maybe even cinnamoney and peppery, but just a touch. They smell like grapferuit and lemons and everything spunky and fresh.

Do Sauvignon Blancs really smell like gooseberries?
Some do. Most people also exude a light gooseberry smell when provoked.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gooseberry

Next post: Rockin the light Spanish wines in summer

Good Picnic Wines 1

Good Picnic Wines: As Easy to Find as Flowers are to Pick from Your Neighbors Yard When She's Sleeping (and not because you gave her a light sedative)


The most important thing to remember when picking yourslef out a picnic wine is that anything will work. Really, anything. It's a picnic. Stress should only be involved if hornets attack the lunchmeat. The above pictures are a case in point. I say drink whatever the invitees bring, preferably out of plastic cups.

However, if you are the one buying the wine (for example, if your invitees are in charge of the ice-cream cake), my motto for choosing a picnic wine is that the simplier, lighter, the perkier the wine, the better. The point of the event is the fresh air, the fresh, enjoyable food, the company, and,... sitting on or very very near grass. The wine should be pleasent, fun wine. Something that doesn't take you away from the company or the grass because you can't figure out what that frieken smell is the plastic cup. In other words, the wine shouldn't scream out for a decanter.

My wedding, pictured in the recent post, was an outdoors reception. The menu was all picnic- yummy sandwhiches from our local top-notch deli, Greek potato salad, fresh salad greens with a balsamic vinegarette, cherries and strawberries and cheese plates. All of this food lovliness can be viewed on the lastest post, in picture two. The wine that we served was just as light and fresh as the food. We served Verasol for the red (pictured in the lastest post, first picture)- an inexpensive, light Spanish Grenache that gave off dark fruit and stoney aromas. The white was Domaine de Pellehaut (not pictured)- a French wine from the Gascony region made of Ugni Blanc and Colombard . Smelled like pear and flowers. Our sparkling was a Cremant d'Alasce- the pictured sparkling on this post. But I'm all for anything. I might consider an un-oaky chardonnay, like the LaLande, the last picture in the previous post. Or a pinot noir. And definitely, I'd serve beer, like we did at our wedding.

By the way, my definition of a picnic is very basic. Nice sandwhiches, a potato salad, fruit. Maybe even cold barbequed chicken and a little cheese. Don't get caught up on the idea that the cheese and the wine must match. They musn't. Not for a picnic, because, as I mentioned before, the point of a picnic is not the matching perfection of the wine and the food. It's the company, the fresh air. If the wine and cheese don't match pefectly, finish eating the cheese, have a bite of potato salad, and then the take a sip of the wine.

Summer doesn't last forever, so relax and indulge in the incrediable seasonal oppurtunity to drink wine from plastic cups.

Note: All photos were taken by photographer Thomas Hopkins

Picnic Wines: Light and Simple 2

It's been awhile since my latest post. This is because since my latest edition to vindelatable, I have gained a lovely ring on my finger. And it takes a lot off work to get that second ring. You've got to pick out ribbons with your name on them to wrap wedding party favors in, you have to decide if your name or your fiance's name goes first on the ribbon, and you have to decide, if you want the ribbons to boast your new last name in order to honor your fabulous new life together, you have to decide which, if any, last name you'll choose. And then you have to breathe. So I couldn't find it in my loving heart to write.
P.S. it was an awesome, beautiful, happy day. Furthermore, my honeymoon was beachy and sunny and beer and tan-filled (pictures of beach drinks to come).

But I'm back and in full force at writing now, after the marraige celebrations have dwindled down. Kind of. Anyhow, my next topic will be "Picnic Wines: Light and Simple," otherwise known as,"Good Picnic Wine: As Easy to Find as Flowers are to Gather From Your Neighboor's Yard While She's Sleeping."

The wines featured in the photos are picnic wines (also served at my wedding reception). And the food is picnic food (served on my big day as well.) Pictures of people drinking at my wedding to follow. I'm covering all the bases. The pictures were taken by our enchanting wedding photographer, Thomas Hopkins, in Sacramento. Except for the amazing photo of the Laland Chardonnay. Of course, I took that special shot.

"Wierd" Wines: Moving away from Chardonnay

I love "weird" whites. When sales reps pour wines from unheard-of grape varietals at our wine shop and bar, they can annoy me to no end with their overly involved, never-ending stories of the ancient, indigenous magical grapes from Never-Never Land. Even so, I’m a sucker for the grapes I’ve never tasted, names I haven’t uttered, and even for the common varietals that misbehave and taste like something they shouldn’t.

The 2005 Suavia Soave made by the four lovely sisters of the Tessari family (pictured candidly above) is a great example. The winery name is Suavia, the region in which it's made is Soave (located in Verona), and the grapes used for the classic Soave blend are most often Garganega, Trebbiano. And yes, Soave blends are relatively commom, table wines from Italy. But this Soave doesn’t taste like a normal Soave. Think Riesling and Pinot Grigio’s lovechild - apple, pear, lemon, lychee, and by god, even petrol. All in one bottle, I swear.

So, for a cook, the first question that arises is, what does one pair with an interesting white wine? What do you do with so many flavors going on in one place, with so much junk in one trunk?

Good news - contrary to popular belief, “interesting” whites are consistently easy to pair with food. For example, the Swiss Chasselas-based wines meld better with most cheese than the average California Chardonnay. Riesling sings for Thai food while Sauvignon Blanc keeps asking for goat cheese, and, well, this Venetian Soave could seduce any of the above without even looking. Rico Soave.

Here are two food ideas for this lovely wine:
1) Fish in Banana Leaves: Buy some banana leaves from your local Asian food store. Soak them in water overnight. Go talk to the fishmongers at your neighborhood fish market and ask them to pick out a sustainable white-fleshed fish for you. Wrap the fish, along with a touch of ginger and lemongrass in the leaves, and toss on the Weber. Open the wine while waiting ten to twenty minutes for the fish to cook. (Peek inside and eat when fish begins to flake).

2) Springtime Risotto: Asparagus is still cheap, and carrots are still sweet. Drop the chopped veggies in the stock in which you’ll be cooking the risotto for a couple minutes, set aside until the rice grains are nearly cooked, then add to the almost finished risotto before the last dab of butter coats the rice grains. Mix it up with some chopped fresh tarragon and enjoy with a glass of Soave.

And finally, consume on patio as the sky begins to darken.

http://www.suavia.it/

The little cheese from Sancerre

And now for the cheese. Our Crottin de Chavignol, which seductively translates as "animal poop" or "dung," named in honor of its similarity in size and shape to French horsey droppings, first saw the light of day in the 16th century. Unlike the American dish, "shit on a shingle" that is fortunately served in even rarer instances than its distant cousin, green jello with canned fruit and mayo, the sweet little goat cheese disk had a much brighter future.

Although le Crottin was first made in Chavignol and still carries the village's name, it is now primarily made in the towns of Pitou, Berry, and Perigord that border Sancerre, in the Loire Valley. Cheesemakers take the whole milk of the famed goats in the area and ladle the smooth liquid into its tiny molds. The milk stays in the mold from twelve to twenty-four hours, where it starts to take it's "Crottin-like" shape. The wrinkled, rippled surface develops on the cheese after it's removed from the mold, salted and ripened from 10-12 days in a dry environment.

Then its sent to Parisian cheese shops, or shipped to us.

Fresh or fully mature, le Crottin de Chavignol exists in multiple forms that can soothe the dairy pains of many a particular cheese-eater. At different stages in its life, it seems to morph into entirely different types of cheese. Ranging from white and butter-colored when young to gray or off blue when older, and it's texture respectively alternating from crumbly and lush to thick and hard enough to employ as a door knocker when one's knuckles grow weary, le Crottin is a shape shifter.

With bright, herbaceous and lemony flavors, le Crottin can be enjoyed shortly after its creation as a spreadable or melting cheese . It is white or slightly yellow now, and soft and crumbly. One of the favorite ways to eat this Crottin young is warmed over toasted bread in a Chevre Chaud Salad in Parisian bistros.

Later, as it matures- sometimes as soon as a month or so after it arrives in the U.S., it develops a firmer texture that allows the cheese to be grated or sliced. This is the time to Introduce this Crottin "of a certain age" grated over gnocchi, or sliced atop artisan salumi with tarragon in a crusty baguette.

When young, le Crottin screams for a Sancerre, or other bright, fresh Sauvignon Blancs. But at this early stage it really pairs well with anything. As it ages, try it with another wine from the Loire Valley, where the cheese is made. Try it with a Cabernet Franc- the red grape of the region, or with a Chenin Blanc from Vouvray. Another good match is a Grenanche based wine. Fair warning: when young, notre petit Crottin can stand up to a Pinot Noir, but when it ages, it becomes a tad to strong for the delicate grape.

If le Crottin de Chavignol has caught your heart as it has mine, check out the site listed below. Janet Fletcher is a food writer for the SF Chronicle that is in charge of the wine and cheese pairings. A couple years prior, she wrote an awesome article on le Crottin. It'll keep you occupied as long as you can keep your seat in the chair before running to your local fromagerie

> http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2005/02/10/WIG53B7UU81.DTL&type=wine
>

French Appellationg= Simple Cheese Pairings, to come: more on the cheese

Part 2: While it can feel little nothing less than a pain in the cork for those trying to remember and match varietals with appellations, it can help us when we are trying to pair French wines and cheeses. Finally a bone is thrown our way, and we discover, as millions have known for centuries in France, that French cheese and wine gems from the same region pair perfectly. No need to consult the Wine Bible to see what cheese goes with a Sancerre. Pick a goat cheese from Loire Valley, where Sancerre is located.
Go to your trusted cheesemonger and say,
“Hello cheesemonger, I’ve just purchased a Sancerre [say just the appellation name, it’ll make you sound impressive], and would like a cheese from the same region, or from Loire Valley.”
Anything from the Loire Valley or Sancerre should fit. Why? Because people have been making cheese for a very long time in France, as they have wine, and while eating locally has been marketed as somewhat of a revolution for those of us in the U.S., its old news in France. Quite simply, people in the Loire Valley make cheese that taste good with their local wine. And that wine is Sauvignon Blanc. And that cheese is goat cheese, the perfectist of all cheeses with that grape.
Then again, why is a tough question.
The wine part is simple. That wine grows best in that area. So it is grown.
But why is goat cheese the main cheese in the Loire Valley, exactly? Where the goats in the region before the wine, or was Sauvignon Blanc in the Loire Valley before the kids? Do goats grow best in that area too? Perhaps they like mineral soils because it reminds them of the mineral-laced tin cans they used to munch on at gramma’s house. Did the people of the area try goats and cows before they settled on goats, as winemakers likely did with Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc grapes in the Loire Valley before they decided on SB? I have no idea.
But the fact remains- and yes, it is undisputed, everywhere- Sauvignon Blanc is the best white grape grown in Sancerre, in the Loire Valley. And it is absolutely the best match with some of Sancerre’s goat cheese, such as the Crottin de Chavignol featured in the lovely picture above, which I wish I took. And, everything can get more specific. If you have a chance to try a Sancerre from Chavignol with a Crottin de Chavignol, oh lord, this is the best match ever. You gotta sit down. Yet in general, if you match a wine from the Loire Valley (the red, Cabernet Franc works smashingly too), with a cheese from the general Loire Valley area, you are set. Super set!
And remember, your wine and cheese mongers are paid to help you. You pay them. If the appellation isn’t marked clearly to you on the wine, ask your wine salesperson. They should know.

Pesky French Appellations

Whenever you pick up a bottle of French wine and look for some inkling of the grape type yet find nothing but snobby French terms like "le" or "Chateaux," don't be too discouraged. Slap yourself on the hand and remind yourself, while the appellation system may be as annoying for most blue or red or white blooded Americans as Velveeta is to a French person about to tip a corn chip in a Tex-Mex Salsa-con-processed-"Queso," they can come in handy too.
When? Oh, good question. With French cheese and wine pairing.

Part 1. I love Sancerre. And Sancerre loves goat cheese.
Sancerre is a French town inside the Loire Valley appellation. It is one of the many appellations within the Loire Valley region. A wine made in Sancerre is always Sauvignon Blanc. Legally. Punishable by death.
Resulting from Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée laws enacted in 1953, French wines are always labeled in reference to the region in which the wine is grown, not the grape. The government mandates what can grow where. Likewise, if a French wine has a grape varietal, like Chardonnay, printed on the label, you’ll know that the winemaker isn’t growing the wine in the region specified by the government. If they were, they wouldn’t need to state the varietals. It would be clear to winos everywhere in Europe. The trick to knowing what type of wine is in that bottle you're holding is knowing what grape varietals the French government allows its wine producers to grow in which appellation. In Sancerre, the government specifies that only Sauvignon Blanc should be grown.
You might be thinking this is crazy. It’s certainly interesting. But it's also smart, and will later help us pair French wine with French cheese. It's smart, first of all, because after centuries of growing grapes in France, the French know what grape grows best in what area. Sauvignon Blanc likes sun, but low heat, maritime climates, and mineral-strewn soils. If Sauvignon Blanc is the best white grape to grow in the Sancerre region, in the Loire Valley, where the often naturally limestone-flecked vineyards nurture the mineral flavors in the grape, so grow it. Or grow it legally in the neighboring Loire Valley towns of Touraine or Quincy…..Bordeaux is also an excellent environment for Sauvignon Blanc. And so there it is also grown, with Sémillion, which also thrives in the region. With permission from Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée team housed in Paris.

See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/French_wines#The_appellation_system for more info about Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée laws.

First Blog: Why Rose Membrillo?

My name is Rosé Membrillo. Today. But be advised that my name will shape shift when it feels fit, when it's so inspired by a wine and food pairing that it can't stand to exist in its present gastronomic state any longer.

Why Rosé Membrillo today? Because the flowering trees outside my apartment window remind me that its Rosé season (a.k.a: spring), and one of my favoirte pairings for the pink juice is membrillo served over Manchego cheese slices, set down next to a chilled Rosé of Grenache. Preferably also next to Marcona Almonds. Classic Spanish pairing.

Rosé (not white zin) is a wine made from crushing red wine grapes such as Pinot Noir, Grenanche, etc.... and only leaving the juice briefly in contact with the squashed grape skins. The wine absorbs a rosey hue rather than a dark red because the color is dictated by the length of time that the skins are left in the tubs. The less time in the tank, the closer color to Barbie's pink mansion. Leave the skins in longer, and the hues going to more resemeble Julia Robert's lipstick in Pretty Woman.
Membrillo is made by cooking the quince fruit- believed to be indigenous to Greece- with sugar and lemon like you're making jam. Upon cooling, the high-pectin quince forms a thick, preserves-like paste that can be sliced. It's sweet, a little tart, and floral. Hint-when I buy this stuff already made into a paste at Mexican markets, it is of top quality and just as good as the overpriced membrillo sitting on gourmet shops shelves.
Manchego is a Spanish sheep's milk cheese with a sharp, bold taste that begs for sweet membrillo.
Marcona Almonds are skinless Valencian almonds that have been fried, salted, and oiled. As addicting as the crunchy things in the bottom of a KFC extra crispy bucket.
With this blog I hope to introduce and deepen the conversation of wine and food pairing online. Without snobbery. As revealed in my profile, I manage the wine bar section of a wine shop in the SF Bay area. I graduated from the California Culinary Academy in 2000, cooked in California and NYC, studied anthropology in UC Berkeley, and now continue to explore food and culture through cooking and wineful means. I love that my job gives me the oppurtunity to play with food and wine, talk about pairing wine and food, in public. Maybe this blog will extend that oppurtunity.