The Rogue Estate

text encapsulated epicurean elitism

As a wine lover in the U.S., one of the things I find most frustrating is the air of mystery and elitism that drives most people to stick to well-known beer and cocktails.  In fact, I not-so-secretly dislike the term “wine snob” because it reinforces that stereotype.

Part of this air is the complexity of offerings, and inconsistency in labeling.  Part of it is the “ritual” of ordering wine in a restaurant. You’ve probably been there at one time.  Once you get past the seemingly monumental decision of choosing a wine for the table, next are all the other little decisions–What do I do with the cork?  Why is the waiter only pouring a little for me?  Can I send it back if I don’t like it?  Do I have to swirl my glass?  Why? What are people looking for when they take a big sniff first?  How do I know if the wine is supposed to taste like this?  All of it can be just too stressful for the less-than-curious drinker.  (Incidentally there are tons of useful beginner’s guides out there, including this unfortunately named one: http://www.2basnob.com/ordering-wine.html)

This leads me to my point–that final bastion of pretension, the epitome of elitist wine practices, the foo-fooiest of the shi-shi things to do…DECANTING!

Nodding in agreement? I did too, years ago. Take a deep breath and let me see if I can change your mind.

There are two very simple and logical reasons to decant some wines.

• To eliminate sediment from an unfiltered, or especially mature bottle
• To allow the wine to make contact with air, which can improve the taste of some wines by “softening” them, or letting them “open up”.

Eliminating sediment
If you have an unfiltered wine (often an uncommon red wine, and it usually says “unfiltered” on the label) decanting is one way to make sure you don’t get sediment in your glass. Sediment is usually composed of grape skins or solids, and sometimes clear crystals, called tartrates. All of these are harmless, but bothersome if the wine was stored and handled properly. Many decanters have been designed to allow a drinker to pour the bottle into the decanter, then slowly pour from the decanter into a glass, using its thin, beautiful, expensive crystal neck to trap the sediment. At home, I’ve sometimes used a tea strainer or fine mesh strainer to accomplish the same thing, with less dish washing to do.

Contact with air
I have to say upfront that a few experts disagree about this. There are some who say contact with air actually starts to degrade the wine giving you flavors that the winemaker never intended. But many more agree that a bottle that’s been decanted and given a little time to open can transform the flavors in a good way. I won’t get into the science of it because I don’t really care about the science of it. I just know that it works. I find that many European wines, especially Italian and Spanish reds benefit from an open-air rest. And the container doesn’t really matter.

A fast vertical drop to maximize air contact.

At our Rogue’s Estate Pizza Party, I hauled along a pretty familiar quality Chianti, and grabbed the nearest vessel when I walked in. Bob’s beautiful orange plastic pitcher was perfect. After an hour the wine had given up most of the unwelcome astringency and tannin’s allowing the Sangiovese’s cherry flavors to present more obviously, and to let some of the more subtle cedar notes out. Bob’s sweet marinara and the smokey Vidalia onions really brought the wine to life, and vice versa.

Are you someone who likes Cali and Aussie reds, but find most French, Italian, and Spanish reds too harsh? As an experiment, you owe it to yourself to dump ‘em in a pitcher, and let them think for an hour about what they’ve done to you in the past.

Tasting notes:

2006 Ruffino Riserva Ducale Chianti Classico

A tart Italian grandmother (not your own) right out of the bottle, she gets so much more lovely with exposure to air. Classic cherry and red berry flavors, with a nice cedar backbone and little pepper at the back of the tongue. About $20.

Other experiments for the Rogue Estate Pizza Party that weren’t quite what I hoped they would be:

Grüner Veltliner Hugo 2008

Originally picked to pair with the artichoke and garlic pie, this classic citrus Summer sipper just felt out of place with all the smoke, dough, and a cloudy sky.  Granny Smith Apples, lime, and celery leaf.  About $12.

Round Barn Black Currant Dessert Wine (Michigan)

Chosen to pair with a peach and rhubarb roasted dessert pie, this was intended to be a study in complementary tangy, sweet flavors, but Jack’s coffee stout won out with contrasting flavors. Redgardless, I love this little Starburst of a dessert wine, mostly because I adore black currants.  About $24.

Good things come to those who breathe.

- Ian

The subject heading on the email was cryptic and hinted of espionage. 

I think it said something like “We must talk of a certain matter which is of interest to you” and it was from my former co-worker and longtime foodie friend, Ian.  I expected instructions to follow involving a discreet location and knocking out the shave-and-a-haircut code in a darkened doorway.  But no such luck. 

Instead, it was an invitation to join forces with those who were as passionate about finding the perfect morel mushroom as I was.  Menus would be discussed, a theme finalized and I would participate with a dessert and another entrée if I had time. Who was I to pass up such an opportunity?  Besides, I’d heard there was going to be longanisa, so I had to come.

For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s the Filipino equivalent to a Smoky Link, but tastier.   I had introduced my friend Ian to it many years ago at a barbecue, and it became his personal mission to come up with other uses for the beloved Filipino sausage.  I was intrigued to see what he was going to do with it this time.

I was also intrigued by what the evening was going to bring.  The menu looked extraordinary enough, and I was hoping to be able to pull my weight amongst the individuals that had been described to me.  I mean, I cook, and I do it well, but making food for people I hadn’t met whose palates I wasn’t familiar with seemed a bit scary.  But like all new adventures, I went for it.  Because sometimes, you just have to consider the possibilities and say damn the torpedoes.

The evening produced a variety of “firsts”.  All of us ate or drank something we’d never had before, and after feasting we concluded that the evening was a huge success.  Now, had I decided that I wanted to live a safe and uneventful life and decline Ian’s invitation to join the Rogue Estate for an evening of food, camaraderie and boozing, then I would have missed several opportunities.  I wouldn’t have tasted two beers that I enjoyed immensely (and that I can still taste if I think on it hard enough), or goyoza with pea sprouts and crab, or softshell crab cooked over pecan wood.  Oh, and let’s not forget the longanisa, skewered with shrimp and green onion and barbecued to perfection.  Meat candy, I believe my husband called it.

So, here’s to more “firsts”.  And I hope you, the reader, will be inspired to experience some as well.  Taking a chance can prove quite delicious.

In this post I simply want to share a recipe I came up with at work using random things I had on hand to feed myself and a couple co-workers one slow Sunday evening. My French cooking back ground came through in some of the procedure of this Udon noodle soup, but the result still very much follows the Japanese tradition of noodles in broth.

For the “guts”:

1/2 pound of shrimp, peeled, shells reserved and roughly chopped into bite-size pieces

3/4 pound of Red Snapper fillet cut into 3/4 inch cubes

14 oz. dry Udon

2 oz. Celery heart sliced thin on a bias

2 oz. Leek white, sliced thin

3 oz. baby heirloom Carrots of mixed color or standard baby Carrots, sliced thin on a bias

2 oz. Scallion, sliced thin

2 oz. (3 spears) Asparagus, sliced thin on a bias

1/2 cup Sake or Dry White Vermouth

For the broth:

2 quarts water

2 oz. or 56 grams shaved Katsuo (bonito) or 2 tablespoons instant Dashi

a 4inch length of Konbu, wiped clean

1 cup light Mirin

1/2 cup Soy Sauce

Juice of 1 Lemon

Juice of 1 Lime

6 thin slices of fresh Ginger

1 teaspoon minced Garlic

reserved Shrimp shells

To start:

Add the water to a large pot with the Konbu and bring to a simmer. In another large pot bring 3 quarts of salted water (it should taste like sea water) to a boil. Once the Konbu has come to a simmer, add the rest of the broth ingredients and bring back to a simmer. Allow this to steep on low heat for 20-30 minutes and strain, return the liquid to the pot and discard the solids (or make a “second Dashi” by steeping the solids again with the addition of another 1/2 oz. of Katsuobushi, and chill or freeze for use within a month).

Coat the bottom of a large saute pan with a small amount of soy or canola oil and place over medium heat. Once heated, add the Leeks, Celery and Carrots and lightly salt, cook over medium heat until the carrots are soft but not thoroughly cooked. Deglaze with the Sake and reduce until the pan is almost dry. At this point add half the Dashi stock to the pan and bring back to a simmer.

While that comes back up to a simmer, your other pot of salted water should be boiling. Add the Udon to the water and cook until the Udon is just past el dente. Strain and rinse the noodles under hot water if serving right away, or under cold water to reserve for later use and lightly oil the noodles for storage. All the while keeping an eye on the broth to make sure it doesn’t come to a full boil.

To finish:

Divide the noodles among 4-5 bowls. Add the Shrimp, Red Snapper, and Asparagus to the simmering broth and bring back to a simmer, then kill the heat. Allow this to steep for 3-4 minutes to cook the meats, they won’t take long and if cooked on high heat the Shrimp will get rubbery and the fish will fall apart. Divide this evenly into the bowls containing the noodles, top off with a little more of the left over Dashi stock if the noodles aren’t almost fully submerged. Sprinkle a generous amount of sliced scallions over the top of each bowl and serve with chopsticks. Place a small bowl of Chili/Garlic paste in the center of the table with a small spoon for guests to use at their discretion. I used Shiso leaves to garnish for the picture, but that’s optional, or Lime leaves would be a good substitute.

If the three soup recipes I’ve posted weren’t a clue, I am a huge fan of soups, especially Asian soups, and this one came out great. The key is in not overcooking anything so their natural flavors shine through bright and clear.

I have a few other great soups in my repertoire, so expect to see those eventually. Until next time, live well and eat better!

Jack

I’m going to take a departure from my usual M.O. with this post. I will be reviewing 2 beers I recently picked up that were so damn good I just had to write about them. The first one is from the Rogue brewery (great name, huh?) in Newport, Oregon. First off, let me tell you that any beverage with a celebrities name on it I tend to shy away from, be it beer OR wine. Rogues new Morimoto Black Obi Soba Ale is an exception to that rule, and being a huge Morimoto fan my curiosity got the best of me and I HAD to try it.

I was not disappointed. It claims to have roasted Soba in it, but that seems to be a supporting character to the 6 different malts and the 4 different hops used in this wonderfully nutty and crisp offering. Nutty and slightly sweet right up front, pleasant floral hoppiness in the middle, bright and well balanced clean bitter/sweet finish, with a mild nose of pure Caramel and Carafa malts and a faint smokiness. You barely notice the 30 IBU and at 36 degrees Lovibond the color is a gorgeous deep, rich, nutty, reddish brown. The slightly mild carbonation makes the medium bodied mouth feel that much smoother.

This beer would pair well with any mushroom based dish, grilled or roasted red meats or pork, spiced duck, dark berries, Butterkase and aged White Cheddar cheeses, and chocolate.

Rogue brewery has rarely disappointed me, though sometimes they do tend to get a little out there, but this may be one of they’re most well rounded libations yet. It goes for around $7 – $8 for a 22oz. bottle, but it’s money well spent for a beer enthusiast.

The next beer is from Goose Island in Chicago, their 2009 Bourbon County Stout. This special run beer was surprising, to say the least. Goose Island makes good beer, but not usually mind-blowing. They’ve outdone themselves with this one. As the name implies, they age this stout in used Bourbon barrels, infusing the beer with the nose and flavor of that sweet, caramel heavy Kentucky whiskey. The nose hits you first, Bourbon, held up by the black barley scent typical of the style. Satin smooth mouth feel, and sweet Bourbon flavor right up front, bitterness from the heavily roasted malts in the middle, finishing with a heavy sweetness, hoppy bitterness, and the smell of Bourbon yet again as the fumes rise up through your nasal passages from the back of your throat. The heavy bitterness from both the black barley and the hops is well balanced by the sweetness. Lightly carbonated and almost syrupy with a whopping 13% alcohol, this sweet stout is purely a desert beer.

Heavy, very sweet, but wildly complex, this beer would pair well with creme brulee, chocolates flavored with Raspberries, ganache, balsamic vinegar, peaches, granny smith apples, bleu and very sharp goat cheeses (Humboldt Fog comes to mind), or anything with enough balls and acidity to stand up to it. I wouldn’t pair this with citrus, though. While citrus does have the acidity, citrus flavors are pretty mild and would get overpowered leaving you with just the acid cutting through. This is, however, a pricey one at around $14 per 22oz. bottle, but it’s a rare treat for fans of the style, and fans of good Bourbon alike. 22 ounces is hard to get through on your own due to how heavy and sweet it is, so have a friend help you or serve it in small snifters after or during desert at a dinner party.

I will endeavor to bring you new beer reviews in between my recipes, commentaries and rantings as I encounter inspiring new malty goodness. Until next I post, live well and drink better!

Jack

http://www.rogue.com/

http://www.gooseisland.com/

On this night, I planned to match a good red wine to basic roast duck with a honey-orange glaze.  While my first instincts went to Pinot Noir (I had a nice Oregon specimen in mind), I had a second thought about the orange. Acid can kill a wine that’s not up to the battle.  That’s why so many salad dressings can make your wine taste nasty or dull.

Then I had a third thought…in the last year I’ve had a brief infatuation with Cabernet Franc.  I tend to like the harsh little rude grapes that usually only get used in blends to add tannins, or body, or acid.  Cab Franc is one of those little rudies.  It comes on with a tart black cherry and raspberry flavor, but then puckers you up, all the time smelling like roses and violets.  A vicious little fighter that can slam duck fat to the floor, then do a dance-off with citrus.

So I packed two for dinner.  I was interested in a new world/old world face-off.

In this corner, Beaucanon Estate:

Beaucanon Estate 2005 Cabernet Franc.

A little over-oaked I thought, it had a Cabernet Sauvignon nose, but opened to a lot of interesting flavors not typical in California reds.  A deep dark color, with hints of amber at the rim speaking to age and oak. about $27. The beer aficianados in the group (who I did not know had a “thing” against Cali reds) were mildly surprised.

And in this corner, Breton’s Trinch!  (“trinch” = “clink” in French, like you’re toasting):

Breton Trinch! Cabernet Franc.

The Loire region in France is an area that produces almost exclusively Cabernet Franc as its red option (the whites are many and legendary).  The Trinch! was not as interesting on the nose initially, but like most French reds, was MADE for food.  I’m not sure if this was oaked or stored in stainless, but wood was a very light touch in comparison. The younger Trinch! had a faint purple tone, almost blue at the rim.  Violets covered the nose initially with a faint rose aroma, a satisfying black cherry taste, and a longer finish.  Paired with the honey-orange duck it cleaned the palette like cranberry with turkey.  About $20.

The judges call? Drink the Californian while cooking, but save the French contender for a mouthful of duck-fat…which is where the real Battle Royale is taking place.