I've been busy. It's been the good type of busy, work hours filled by tasting stimulating wines and selling them to good wine folk, a much preferable labor to the bad type of busy, the monotonous lifting of boxes and polishing of lipstick stains cemented to infernally fragile Austrian crystal glasses that break if you look at them intensely type of busy. Either way, it ain't coal mining and I remain thankful for this plum job. We've had guests! Neal Rosenthal (and his friendly associate Tony, but this story isn't about Tony) joined us for the last two days, and we ended up having a really good time. I shouldn't speak for our guest- I had a splendid time lurking in the background, sipping Rosenthal wines, pilfering appetizers and quietly observing as Neal did all the real work. It helps that Neal is so amiable. After close to 30 years of retail and importing he seems genuinely enthusiastic about meeting people, signing books, listening to opinions and sharing insights.

Tuesday night we screened Jonathan Nossiter's documentary Mondovino in the tre-modern and a/v-ready cooking school that sits above my office. Sometimes I feel it was put there by fat little succubi determined to keep me from any semblance of a balanced diet. Very distracting aromas waft down from its ovens and stoves, chicken stock being prepared, bacon frying. Lunch comes early in the wine office. I'll blame my digression on the little devils as well. Mondovino is as good a lightning rod as any for a much-needed debate in our sphere- globalization and homogenization have changed so many aspects of life/business/culture by 2005, and I don't think Neal and I, along with a collection of the movie's protagonists, are just curmudgeonly in our desire to see the diversity and inherently local character present in many of the world's truly special wines preserved. But I'm sure many of you are familiar with both sides of this fence. Rent Mondovino and see if you share Nossiter's take on wine and politics and dogs. In the near term I imagine the wave of international hegemony will continue to wash over us and polish away the rough edges and barnacles that make Bahama, NC different from Basigstoke, Hampshire, but that doesn't mean we should stop building a barrier around as many distinct wines as we can. Throwing spitballs at Michel Rolland and Robert Parker bores me and seems really irrelevant- I'd rather get on with ensuring the future of wines I feel are special, and they can continue living in a different world enjoying different wines. Wine culture can be big enough for a spectrum of philosophies, as long as one wine style/ideal/business model doesn't get out of hand and devour all others. Also, I peevishly kinda feel that if we pretend trendsetters like Rolland and Parker don't exist, then maybe they don't. . . . The genius of wine is that it is at once poetic and corporeal, and if we just enjoy it with food and a friend, and occasionally ruminate on the context and particulars that birthed it, the battle to preserve good wine is won. And it won't feel like much of a battle.

To that end, we had a raucous good time with Neal on Wednesday, drinking and dining with local, seasonal courses prepared by our new head chef Patrick Cowden. When the amuse arrived, pairing melon, NC "proscuitto" and Landuedoc rosé from Mas Cal Demoura, I got a feeling that the new guy is going to work out just fine. By the third course (duck, sweet potatoes and a peach glaze-type thing, if you're dining vicariously) the room had an incredible energy, and I think Neal and I were just along for the ride. But I enjoyed the ride, as the din built to a crescendo worthy of the sublime 98 Brovia Barolo Garblet Sue, a wine almost too elegant to speak of. It was nicely matched with the beef tenderloin, but I suspect Brovia could ably accompany most well-prepared, flavorful entrees. It was nice to feel like part of the crowd, and I think that resonated with Mr. Rosenthal as well. Free, jovial conversation and a evening that ends with berry semifreddo and sparkling red wine from Pavia- all evenings should be like this. Is that really too much to ask?

Next month I'll dissect my thoughts and generally pontificate regarding a number of Neal's new wines; we're tasting an array of Rosenthal Burgundies and Italians in mid-August, and I'm sure at least a few are destined for this store's shelves. Between then and now I promise to look up brevity in the dictionary- some of you have day jobs, and I'd hate to be responsible for a dip in you productivity. Maybe I'll meet an editor willing to work for wine. Thanks for tuning in.

Monday in Manhattan, or

This Ain’t no Holiday - The Ups and Downs of Day Tripping Through the East Village

One day in Manhattan can be escape enough to free weary wine workers from lingering memories of their run-of-the-mill retail tribulations. So on my Monday off I embarked (eventually) for New York. When 24 hours are all you have to see culinary paradise, it’s best to arrive early. Sadly my traveling companions, who happened to be in possession of my boarding pass, were Restauant People, a tight-knit clan of pasty nocturnal folk typically unfamiliar with the dawn, so we missed our flight. To tell the truth, we were searched twice pre-boarding (shifty looking Beverage Managers!) which impeded our progress just enough to make the sprint for the gate end in frustration, obscenities, and a good long look at our plane backing slowly away from the terminal. But you’ve all been there, so we’ll skip ahead to Manhattan.

So many wonderful wine bars! I suspect wine consumers in NYC are no more savvy than their counterparts in worldy, academic Chapel Hill, but there is a startling difference in the products New Yorkers can consume at their favorite enoteca. The lists we surveyed and sampled from on our sojurn challenged drinkers by presenting wines made by innovative, distinct and quality-oriented small producers, and (this was most refreshing) through this approach avoided underestimating the taste and intelligence of the establishments’ patrons. Nothing was dumbed down. In a heartening display of sanity, the staff at ‘enoteca in Soho, Casa Mono near Union Square, and Bar Veloce in the East Village present their customers with wines that they indeed would drink at home, or while out on the town. In the pretention-strewn world of wine, this is revolutionary straight-shootin’.

And sadly, it is rarely the state of affairs in the Triangle’s wine bars and stores. We’re not immune. Here’s mine own mea culpa. Like perhaps every well-intentioned wine seller in the world, we’ve never stocked items the staff consider so be downright bad, but many mediocre/ubiqitous "grocery store products" have historically been given a free pass because of either caveat a. People came looking for them and we thought of it as providing a service, after all, if someone wants an item, why would you turn them away? Or b. They were the cutting edge, best products available when we picked them up, but popularity led to increase in production and a gradual, sometimes decade-long slide into mediocrity. No retailer wants to say no to sales, but here is my rationale for the ongoing removal of these brands from our store’s shelves. 1. They’re taking space away from the wines you deserve to go home with. If I can taste the difference, so can you, and I want to sell you products we’re really pumped up about. We’re replacing the brands in question with wine we feel is better, or cheaper, in the same styles. 2. The other stuff is very readily available as it stands. If you sincerely can’t live without the brands we’re phasing out, we can still special order it for you, or (gasp!) You can find it at Kroger. There is nothing wrong with Supermarket brands, but they do belong in the Supermarket. If you come to A Southern Season to buy wine I believe you are looking for the best gourmet products available from around the world, and I’m determined to give that to you. That is how we become friends. You give me money, and I do my darndest to give you the best possible experience you could ever have with vino. It’s the little secret that’s made us have so many return customers through the years, and I don’t doubt for a second it is the right formula.

Back to the Bronx. Ok, the Lower East Side. The business end of our day commenced at the restaurant Hearth, and included 69 of the best indigenous Italian wines you could hope to find in one room, and one oddball delicious biodynamic Chilean wine. The showstopper in my estimation was the 2001 Cesani Luenzo, a study in balance, nuance, finesse. This food-friendly Tuscan red couples mouthwatering black cherry aromas to a velvety, palatecoating texture. In short, as close to perfect Tuscan wine as I’ve encountered recently for less than a fortune. Five cases are headed our way, so if you’re interested. . . .At dinner Letezia Cesani explained it this way. "We (the Cesani Family, but by inference, Italians) only have wine with food", she said. "We don’t do ‘cocktail’ wines". This approach explains the simple elegance and ripeness of their products- they are crafted as food, for serving with food.

Meeting the dozen earnest, hardworking Italian wine people at Hearth sent me home with a renewed sense of purpose, and a strengthened belief in the importance of protecting the diversity of indigenous food and wine products from across Europe and around the world. Purchasing a small-grower wine in America, be it from the portfolio of Montecastelli, Neil Rosenthal, Terry Theise, or any of a handful of other dedicated importers, helps preserve a group of special products, and allows the communities that harvest them to survive. And you get a wine that speaks of somewhere special. It’s an easy form of altruism. I firmly believe our customers aren’t merely looking for a buzz, they want wine that is evocative, ethereal, multifaceted and on some level deeply satisfying. Enough touchy/feely talk. I’m ok and you’re ok, but is your wine ok? Come see us and we’ll make sure it is.

Paris in February

This was written in February on an airplane, returning from what ended up being a very successful wine buying excursion. As the wines are now available, it seemed worthy of posting.
You may be wondering why I have been away from the office so much recently. I genuinely miss talking to many of you about food and wine; admittedly, while drinking Belgian beer on the 17th-century Place des Voges or in the brilliantly designed & dazzlingly mirrored Art Nouveau bar Bouillion-Racine, my thoughts are far from the store and its daily routines. But through much of the waiting and general humdrum of business travel I thought fondly of life at A Southern Season and of our gustatory conversations. Sometimes, even when in the heart of Paris, I miss North Carolina. That said, this year’s trip to Paris was a successful one, and despite the miserable weather, a good time as well. I’ll start off with the business, or all things wine-related, and if you have the patience and we have the column inches, I’ll run through the highlights of dining and shopping for food & wine across the length and breadth of Paris. Trust me, we did some serious walking in the quest for the perfect saucisson, or unfathomably rare bottle of Bonnes Mares. But for now, onto the route du vin.
And why was I in Paris recently? I did it for you, and your dinner. I attended the 6th annual Salon Professionel (sorry, that means you can’t come, only wine nerds allowed) des Vignerons Independants de France, in the quite lovely basement of the Louvre. To enter the Salon I had to walk past several large sections of the original stone wall & fortifications built around Paris a millenium ago to keep Vikings and the English out. Very impressive, and a little intimidating. The Louvre itself is a little impressive, even after multiple visits. I do not understand how Versailles got built- if this were home, I’d have no need for a house in the country. Producers from all the wine-growing regions in France were in attendance, 180 vignerons to be precise. It was one-stop-shopping for artisinal wines of every shape and color from the center of the wine universe, the kind of event that makes even this jaded wine buyer very exited. I got even more exited when told I was the only American who made the trip. Wide-open, unfettered, without competition. Let the bargain hunting begin!
By lunch, I was aware of just how rewarding this trip might be. It struck me that close to half of the wineries with which I had tasted had products of merit. This would remain my rough success rate for the duration of the conference. It’s bloody high. It’s like hitting .400 in baseball, or shooting 90% from the free throw line. At home I’d guess 20% of the wines I taste merit purchase for A Southern Season. What can I say, we maintain high standards. I worried briefly about an "I’m in Paris" effect. All the food had been delicious. . . .But many wines still tasted like pooh, or were just numbingly mediocre, so I’m certain the critical filter remained intact. To be more certain I loaded up the carry-on luggage with samples to retry on our side of the Atlantic, alongside my precious Bonnes Mares and potent Belgian brews. I always clink going through customs.
What follows is a list of the wines I tasted that you should be on the lookout for, and why. Most will magically appear on our shelves during the waning hours of the June sale. You must admit that the timing will be good for your wallet; not that these finds are expensive to begin with. They’ll be easy to locate in the store, in big piles around the French section, perhaps draped in the French flag, or something.
Lets begin with the Big News! Soon we will have Chambolle-Musigny for $19.99. ($17.59 during the sale!) This is no trick. Domaine Sigaut’s 01 Chambolle is a textbook example of the appellation’s wine- precise, aromatic, completely charming. A perfect dinner wine for when you’re starting with salmon but moving on to chicken, or even having something richer. I had a bottle of Chambolle-Musigny at Le Dôme de Marais with morel-filled raviolis and steak, and it was tremendous. The following evening I tried another Burgundy, this one a 2001 Domaine Pagnotta Rully Rouge ($15.99, $12.79 in June) with lobster ravioli followed by beef Bourguignon at the spartan, innovative restaurant l’Ardoise near the Rue de Rivoli, and the match was exceptional. So my verdict is in: Burgundy is best food red in the world. And after all, wine deserves a good meal. Popcorn, or a Hungry Man dinner, will not suffice. Get back into the kitchen! Down with cocktail wines!
In case you are new to the joys of Pinot, I should stress that this is an extremely good deal. Village-level Burgundy for $20 is unheard of, particularly from one of the finest villages in the Cote de Nuits. If you’re new to this corner of the wine world, it’s like getting top-notch Oakville Cabernet for $20, or first-growth Bordeaux for under $200. And I’m sorry Sideways, Burgundy is the only true Pinot Noir. I may regret writing this later, but it’s how I feel, and I’m not going to lie to you guys when it comes to the all-important topic of my blustery self-important opinions. I’m also not going to try, with any enthusiasm, to sell you ridiculously expensive Pinot Noir in clown makeup from California. I like you all too much to ruin your evening like that. French wine is good for you. Surrender to the dark side. . . .
Back to business. We slipped into a bit of a Parisian dining guide there, which unfortunately slid into a snobby rant, and I apologise. We’re back on task. Bargain hunter alert! As if a pair of under- $20 Burgundies isn’t enough value, I’m picking the 04 red and rosé from Les Chemins de Bassac as the Greatest Wine Values You’ll Taste This Year! Maybe ever. They’re at least a front runner/heavy favorite in the category. I realise, being June, it’s an early pick, but these wines are $8.99 and DELICIOUS. I like them. $7.19 on sale. Where’s the Cotes de Thongue? Who knows, who cares. We’ll say South of France. You can see a feverish dedication to quality in the eyes of the couple responsible for these fruit-driven, dry, balanced, actually about perfectly-made wines. They’re nice people, too. This couple only make two wines, and they do it right. Les Chemins de Bassac backed away from oak barriques in recent vintages, despite being advised by merchants that this step would hurt their exports. They are comitted to helping the wine express itself correctly, sales considerations are second. This is common rhetoric, but it is still uncommon to meet winemakers who walk the walk. I should admit to having a bit of a history with Les Chemins de Bassac. Four-ish years ago, in its oakier form, this was the first wine I ever bought a case of for personal consumption. I loved it, but alas, the wine disappeared from NC. The price in 2000 dollars? $8.99, of course.
As you will soon see, I bought stacks of other small-producer French wines on my weekend away, and all of them are awesome. You should taste the Sancerre! But I don’t want to burden you with loads of funny French names and flowery prose all at once. It’s a lot to remember at least I have a hard time with those sorts of things. And as I’m approaching the bottom edge of my airline cocktail napkin, stories of cheese shopping in weekend markets and the suprisingly good prepackaged sandwiches from the Grand Epicerie du Bon Marche will have to wait until I see you in person. For now, a bientot, and thanks for reading.