EAT WINE

You know the place. The IT spot of the moment. The architecture is innovative and dazzling. There's usually a view. The furniture and interior design are slick (bathrooms always are the litmus test for coolness). The waiters are dressed to kill. So what's missing? Oh right, the food is mediocre. That can be forgiven. The service though is lacking. Why is this always the last on the list when it should be the first? If it sucks, you will never, ever be back.

Case in point, my husband and I headed out to celebrate our first wedding anniversary at a new darling resto in Vitacura that has been getting all these rave reviews for being "renewed" Chilean cuisine. Everything looks great. We sit down. 5, 10, 15 minutes go by. No waiter, no menus, nor a clear idea, with all the people in black and white aprons milling around, which of those guys may be "ours". When we finally sussed that out, dinner came with no problem (including the proverbial ritual of opening the wine, that night a phenomenonal Alfa Spiga 2003 from O. Fournier in Spain we had pulled from the Cav). I wasn't pysched about the food to be honest. It was okay although the flavors seemed muted (as in covered by excess oil or cream and lack of salt to flavor correctly), not as clear as they could have been. It also wasn't totally renewed old school as it had been billed--more, I-played- with-lots-of-local-foodstuffs, which is fine, just not what the expectations prepare you for. After asking for our check (3 times and counting), we get the bill and I was a little taken back that the charge for the corkage was twice that quoted over phone (A LOT for Chile!). When asked to consult, the waiter comes back and says "sorry, it's in the system and we cannot change it". I asked if he could please send the manager. He was "busy". Ok, let's pay and go. After that experience (the night itself was lovely--it was our anniversary!), I started asking myself why we repeatedly have this experience here in Chile. It doesn't happen on the other side in Argentina. Never. Not even once. What's up with the service here?

I started to quiz people on why they though service here is lackluster--Chileans, expats, high, middle, lower class. I got a variety of answers and mixed with my own personal experiences it seems to boil down to a few items.

--Waitstaff here is not only underpaid but underappreciated. The snooty upper classes and nuevos ricos (new rich) "look down" on probably one of society's most important jobs--that of being a waiter and "serving" others (they read it as "servant"). Thus, generally speaking in Chile it is not seen as a chance to humbly and nobly put someone else before yourself but more as a less-than-desirable position that you should never work in unless you have to. this obviously causes some dynamics like: not feeling like it's necessary to take pride in your job; not putting the client first; and then you actually do get these obnoxious people who feel, because you are a waiter, they can toss dirt on you and treat you like a page. Go to Argentina, or LA, and that waiter could be a medical student, an actor (starving or not), anyone looking to hussle to make some more money. And there's great respect for them and their job.

--As the waitstaff rotation fluctuates a lot, there are few establishments that really invest in training (and retaining) their people, even in basic things like what's on the menu. The best service I have consistently had in Santiago is at Akarana next to the Ritz. Now, fair enough, the owner Dell Taylor, is a gringa from New Zealand and is on site a lot of the time. In the countryside, I find that Hotel Santa Cruz Plaza does a great job too. Juan y Medio on Route 5 has hands down the fastest service with the biggest, sweet smile form those gals. It's an ex-trucker stop with amazing rustic food. Oh, darn, the last two are out of the city. Other places in Santiago with good service: Liguria, Bar Nacional, Japon (at the sushi bar) and Aguaviva.

--The overwhelming attitude also of "what do you want" vs. "how can I help you" is subtle but noticeable. It is being bothered by a client versus stopping, putting yourself and your ego/needs aside to help someone else (who is paying you). I just read a compelling book on customer service for our own business, Super Service (cheesy title, good content), and it aimed at that. Working with people; putting their needs first; anticipating their needs; attention to detail; going beyond what's expected because you want to; ultimately giving love--and taking pride not only in what you do but how you do it. It says a lot. And you know, you reap what you sow. On my errands today, I started looking around at how people are treated each other in general in downtown Santiago in social settings: at the phone company, standing in line at the bank, on the metro. More of the same me, me, me customer service (or lack there of). Maybe it's how Chilean society envisions service and itself on a larger level--but then I get out in the countryside, or to Patagonia, and it falls off. So maybe it's Santiago. Anyone? Anyone? Anyone? (Yes, this is a referral to Ferris Bueller...)

I will admit that of all the foods in this world it has taken me years to get around to even putting a banana in my mouth. Something about the smell, the texture, the slimy sweetness, just wasn't happening for my palate. I occasionally buy bananas at the market for Francisco who likes to eat them whole as fruit. A while back, when some were on the border of going funky (read: black), I decided to do turn them into banana bread. At that time, the woman who helped clean our house, Oti, watched me in fascination. "Señora Elizabeth, disculpa, la pones en la masa?" Sorry? You put them in the mixture? Yes! The experiment, low fat but not low sugar, went pretty well. Tasty, especially when toasted with natural peanut butter (or dulce de leche here). Banana could be palatable.

This morning I woke up with a terrible monthly craving for chocolate, preferably in the form of croissants. The bakery on the corner with the pain de chocolate didn't open till 10am (it was 7am) and there was no way I could wait. Eating a chocolate bar that early too seemed out of the question. I took one look at some freckled bananas and was like, hmm, banana and dark chocolate could work. It did. In fact, it kicked butt. So this recipe was low fat until I put in 170g of chopped semisweet dark chocolate (still on the Scharffen Berger kick...this chocolate is mind blowing, how come I didn't know about until this last trip to the Bay area?). The results were really great: moist cake, sweet but not overly, and the chocolate makes it feel sinfully yummy. It works for breakfast or tea time.

2 cups all purpose flour (I used whole wheat but with the chocolate, healthy kinda went out the window)
3/4 cup all natural (no sugar) applesauce
170g (about 1/2 cup) natural yogurt
3/4 cup sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
5-6 bananas mashed (about 1.25 cups)
1 tsp baking powder**
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
pinch of salt
170g (1 cup) dark chocolate (semi-sweet) chips or chopped

Preheat oven to 180C/350F.

1. Mix the dry ingredients together, sifting the flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. Reserve.

2. In another bowl, mash the bananas. Add the eggs, vanilla, applesauce, and yogurt.

3. Add the dry ingredients. Do not overbeat (to not create more gluey gluten); only until combined. Fold in the chocolate chips.

4. In a greased oblong bread pan, add mixture. Bake for one hour. If it is filled to the top, I suggest leaving about 1/2 inch space since it will rise. I forgot this morning had this "blob" cascading out the back which could have been made into muffins (however, it was still edible).

**In Chile, all baking powder needs to be doubled; it's not double strength. Explains my flat cookies that have plagued me for years. A miracle. Clabber Girl imported from the States is at Jumbo for you expats...

For years, I dreamed about owning a Kitchen Aid Mixer. A bright cherry red one. It was my ultimate baking toy. I thought of all the amazing Christmas cookies I would whip up, the creamiest mashed potatoes I would make. Then I realized that my love for the mixer (and brand association) had been engrained at birth. My mother had one. A wedding gift in 1971, six years before I came into existence, she gave the mixer a workout throughout the year but particularly around the holidays. She still has it (and kicking).

On this last trip to the US, I decided it was time to finally have my own. At a great kitchen shop in St. Augustine, we found a good selection of new and refurbished mixers. I was talked into the refurbished by the sales woman and then into the Professional HD with a 5-quart bowl and heavy duty motor. Hey, I was going to be using this a lot—or so I thought. Now the trick here was how I was going to lug this baby back to Chile. My husband and I wrapped her up in sheets of thin Styrofoam until the mixer oddly looked like an Alien with the mitten-clad protruding arms. Weighing in at about 30 lbs. it went into my suitcase amid clothing and a good-bye kiss. What would Chilean Customs say?

We get it back to Santiago no questions asked. I am giddy, GIDDY, to give this girl a run. A gigantic 750 Watt transformer (a 10 lb. brick which can be used as a self defense weapon if needed) is necessary to run this safely. We plug it all in and turn it on.

Bang. Bang-bang-bang.

I turn it up to the next speed.

Bang-bang. Bang-bang-bang.

No way. The freaking beater is slamming into the left side. We take out the bowl, play with the pin to adjust the beater clearance. No go.

I cannot believe this. The damn mixer is off-centered. Francisco and I look at each other and know where we erred. Did we try it before we left the store? Uh-oh.

“Oh man, what are we gonna do?” I exclaim.

I call Kitchen Aid customer support. They are sympathetic albeit corporate. Their solution is to send a new beater. Since it’s only a few millimeters off, I suggest a smaller size. Sure, no problem. They mail this off to my Mom’s house in Florida (since no warranty is respected outside the US). Ten days later I get a same-sized beater which obviously bangs some more. Now really impatient, I go through the hoops again with a new bowl. My mom receives and sends it. By now, it’s mid-September and my cherry red mixer has been “decorating” my counter for almost 2 months.

Since getting Kitchen Aid to help is a bust (as is the website), I vent to my baker friend, María Luisa, who has a 20-kilo industrial version.

“Lola, I have this maestro who can help you out. He’s been fixing my machine for 40 years”.

Awesome. I have the dato, or insider’s scoop as they say in Chile.

I call Benito, an elderly man. He takes my name, address, number, and hangs up. He says he’ll be there al tiro, that is, between Monday and Wednesday.

Today (Wednesday) at 3pm, there’s a knock on the door. A gray-haired man comes in with a tool bag and asks to see “her” (the mixer). If he’s a mixer doctor, he’s not overly gentle with the sick patient. He jogs the mixer impatiently. There’s a slight delay due to the necessary voltage converter. I am praying the brick won’t fry.

The beater is still banging loudly. He thinks it may be the bowl. The bowl is quite stiff from its newness so he cannot (easily) get it out. He rams it, pounds it, and now after a couple whacks, manages to get it out. He keeps banging around, smacking the head, and then stops abruptly.

With beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, he asks us if we have a car. Why? To drive him back to his shop in the stix to dismantle the machine. Step away from the mixer dude. A couple more flips on and off and he decides it’s not the motor. It’s not necessary to take it apart. Thank god.

“It’s off-center.” I could have told him that. Jesus!

After all this, he laughs and says, “I guess it would help to get my glasses”. And pulls out some reading glasses that seem to slide off his nose.

Okay, so if we are in the US and I can mail this mixer back and get a new one, I totally would do it. RIGHT NOW.
However, this is the end of the road. I am out of options. I live out of the country. There’s no warranty respected nor cheap shipping options. Benito is my last chance to use this baby. So we are gonna go out on a limb and have some faith in the Chilean solution. Are you ready for this?

He pulls out a huge metal file. He needs a black sharpie. Surgery, or jimmying, is about to commence. He shades the sides of the beater with ink so he can see where they are hitting the bowl. Not a bad idea. From there, he start filing down.

Try 1. Try 2. Try 10. (now 45 minutes later). He keeps asking if it “sounds better”. As in less banging? Not really. With a desperate chuckle he says, “ya’po denme animo”. Come on guys, some enthusiasm. I cannot help it. I am trying to stay optimistic here but this is looking far from functional.

At Try 30, finally, the beater clears. Benito does a little dance of victory. The beater has been filed down several millimeters (visually obvious). It’s aluminum though and firm. We wash off the ink and it’s good to go. We pass him 10 bucks, a thank you, and he’s out the door.

Francisco looks at me and laughs, “That’s how we fix mixers in Chile”.

No kidding. Certainly Kitchen Aid would cringe at this solution. Well forget them, it’s solved!

Any future appliance bought abroad will be tested, that’s for sure. I think this weekend, I will make a dark chocolate cake made with the Scharffen Berger chocolate brought back from San Francisco to officially inaugurate the mixer.

I am ecstatic.

In a year's time, we receive a lot of people with our Culinary & Wine Tours business (www.lizcaskey.com) that are very savvy wine drinkers. They come to Chile and Argentina to experience the wines in their place of origin, taste the local terroir, and inevitably, the desire to bring some of these drinkable memories (treasures?) home becomes a a big issue: Do you we ship it or pack it in our suitcase? How much we take back without raising eyebrows in customs? And if we want to buy a case, is distribution good? Many of the answers are surprising so my intention in this post is to help orient all of you traveling down to these latitudes that want to take wine back.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

The great irony of buying wine in country (in Chile) is that the prices are HIGHER than what you would pay for in the US. Yes, you read that correctly. HIGHER. It all comes down to taxes and demand. Chile is not a huge wine drinking country and as such, allocates most of its production abroad (around 90%). Beyond that, we have a huge VAT (sales) tax on everything here, 19%, from water to bread to batteries to wine. Wine also has an alcohol tax for wines included call ILA at another 16%. Grand total in taxes on a bottle of wine? 36%.

So why is this not the case if you are buying stateside? Wineries are able to export at what they call FOB (Freight on Board). FOB is the wholesale cost of wine without any taxes, tariffs, or third party mark-ups. Since the US has a free trade agreement with Chile, basically the cost structure breaks down to:
-FOB (cost of wine)
-Shipping
-Any third party margin (importers, distributors, wine shops)
-State sales taxes (ranging from 6-8.5%)

All of this however is still the same or LESS than that 36% we pay here.

I have to admit, when I was in California in July, I was blown away by how cheap Chilean wines were. At Trader Joe's in Napa, I found Don Melchor 2005 for US$40 (US$85 at Concha y Toro winery in Chile). They also had Clos Apalta at US$65 in various wine shops whereas at the winery we visit frequently, I can get it at "discount" for US$115. Continuing my laundry list of how much cheaper Chilean wines are in the US, Costco buys around 70% of Montes winery's Montes Alpha line which retails for US$13. Price at winery? Depending on the exchange rate, US$14-15. My favorite wines, red and white respectively, Almaviva and Sol de Sol Chardonnay, can be acquired online at Wine Exchange (www.winex.com) for US$75 for the blockbuster 2005 vintage (hand of winemaker extraordinaire Tod Mostero) and Sherry Lehman in New York for US$21 plus shipping. Price at winery (wholesale) here? US$120 and US$30, respectively. My Dad just called me yesterday, excited to have found this tiny boutique jewel, Neyén 2004 (sold out in Chile) at the State Store on Harrisburg Pike in my hometown Lancaster, PA. Go figure.

My advice is that if there is a special vintage or collector's item (like Neyen's limited edition Syrah or the impossible-to-procure Carmin from Concha y Toro), grab it. Or buy it in Chile to enjoy and drink while here. There is something magical about drinking wines in their place of origin with the local food. However if you are seriously stocking your cellar after a trip here, or want to acquire some good bottles, my suggestion is to find the distributor or importer and buy/ship the case.

That's the real skinny on buying wine here. Even working in the industry, it seems counter intuitive to bring home Chilean wine from the US. (Yes, I do it. At least with Almaviva). Next part to cover how to get it back once you commit to buying it while traveling. There are some tried and proven tricks to make it stress free.