EAT WINE

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Diary of a Foodie: Chile Mestizo Episode

Geez, it has been a while since I posted! I hope you all accept my apologies for being flaky about writing, although I acknowledge much had to do with schedule issues (read: being crazy  busy). I promise to be more diligent with keeping this all up-to-date.

I wanted to give a heads up though about a great show airing in the US on PBS: The Diary of a Foodie. The Chile episode, called Chile Mestizo, is presently broadcasting across the US. It’s an episode rather dear to my heart since I was brought in to collaborate as a fixer and host. It was a phenomenonal learning and sharing experience, and the filming brilliantly captures the depth and richness of the local flavors and “terruño”, terroir in Spanish, (sense of the place loosely speaking). And yes, the crab pie with Doña Zuni IS that good! All the artisans in the program are truly the guardians of cuisine and culture down here and this show rightfully honors/salutes them. I feel so privileged to live here and know all of them! 

Here’s the link to the preview to check it out: http://www.gourmet.com/diaryofafoodie/season2/season2?cur...   From what I understand, you can download it on iTunes in the future. Please let me know if you catch it on PBS! Buen provecho...

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Wednesday, July 11, 2007

When and Where Wine is Not Appropriate: Tropical Brazil

Okay, I will admit that there are times when wine just won't fit the bill and can not even be vaguely tempting. There is nothing wrong with the concept of it but it just doesn't jive with the moment nor the place. It is like eating ice cream on a snowy mid-January afternoon on a bench in New York's Central Park; while you could (in theory), it doesn't quite work and most importantly, the enjoyment derived is simply not the same.

My husband and I recently experienced this unusual phenomenon on our honeymoon in Northeast Brazil. If you will, back up to two weeks ago; to exactly 2 hours prior to departure. Amid suitcases, I was in a tizzy upon realizing that we wouldn't have some "acceptable" wine to drink while on our honeymoon; especially having spent time in Brazil and knowing that wine tends to be (overall) of the mediocre level and quite pricey  due to a 100% tax mark-up (exception: best restaurants and wine shops in Sao Paulo have outstanding selections). So I bubble-wrapped two bottles of bubbly (Chandon's delicious Baron B Unique 2001 from Mendoza and Veuve Cliquot) and two reds (Almaviva's EPU 2001 from Maipo, Chile and O. Fournier's AlfaSpiga a gorgeous tempranillo from the Ribuera del Duero, Spain) and put them in our carry-on (liquids ban mostly lifted on most South American flights, fyi). Okay, we can go now. We are armed (with wine).

Upon landing in Fortaleza in Northeast Brazil and proceeding to our first destination, Jericoacoara, in addition to the pristine beaches and sugar-white sand dunes, we hit a wall of heat and humidity that would remain constant through our final destination of Sao Luis, 1,100 kilometers up the Atlantic coast. With 100% humidity and temperatures hovering around 34 C all day every day, we quickly realized that wine of any sort, even a crisp, chilled Sauvignon Blanc wouldn't cut the midday heat. The only remedy was an ice cold beer--and may I add, beer has NEVER hit the spot like that! At night, still sweating and wanting to samba or get down to the forró music, cairpirinhas seemed a better sipper for a lively and limey buzz. So our days went: 600ml of beer at lunch (promptly sweated out as I never got close to a buzz); and 2-3 caipirinhas at dinner. It was just too hot and humid; and it wasn't the local culture. When in Rome...or Brazil in this case.

So our wines made this epic journey through lagoons, beaches, jungles, sand dunes, 4x4s on rough (or non-existent) roads, boat excursions in Lencois Maranhenses and we looked over with a tenderness like one's children (how would the heat effect them when we couldn't refrigerate them? They had to go up front in the A/C, yadayadayada). And after all that fussing, only one night did we crack open the Chandon with some totally non-Brazilian crepes, which was a delicious treat. But we never found the right moment for the champagne (after all the camaroes and peixe I had become fixated on having it with some cold water seafood, more specifically, 2 dozen tiny Chilean Pacific oysters). We never hit the reds either. So they came home with us in the suitcase and are now resting in the cav with their brother/sister wines.

Lessons learned? Go with the local (beverage) culture, definitely pack lightly and if you really, REALLY want to take some wine, take one bottle, not four. But as they say in Brazil, TUDO BEM.

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Tuesday, November 14, 2006

BA is smoke free

Well, back from BA on a recent business trip, I could hardly believe this shocker: BA is smoke free, that is the restaurants, bars, and (cough) even cafés. For years, I always contemplated and experienced BA and its culture through a lingering, thick haze of nicotine and smoke. Espressos with no fags? unthinkable. A fernet-cola without a puff? not doable. Dancing at milongas until the wee hours without cigs. I'll stop now. It was city where I was once told by a friend who was a pack-a-day die hard smoker that as a "non smoker", I had no right to complain (of the smoke). Hence, as you can see, it came a total surprise when Ley 1799 enforcing the non-smoking law, went into effect in October. Perhaps for me it was a Hallelujah, arriving to bed not smelling like a stale cigarette but I wondered how BA would continue to function. Somehow it has and the law is even being enforced (something that did not happen in Santiago when they recently tried to pass a similar decree). One word of advice though: hold your breathe walking out the door; the cigarette fiends gather rain or shine outside the local to get their fix. But fair is fair I suppose.

 

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Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Is that a “horse” in my wine?

I asked this somewhat grotesque wine question at a dinner party not long ago, although my intentions were quite innocent; I simply wanted to understand why more and more I was running across these somewhat jarring “mousey”, “poopy”, “sweaty saddle” or “barnyard” smells in Chilean and even Argentinean wines on a regular basis. Wasn’t that a “European” wine characteristic like in many Southern Rhone wines or Bordeauxs? Although some fruit aromas still persisted, they seemed to be shrouded in what could be called a manure-esque earthiness. “Liz”, said a winemaker friend across the table, “these leathery or earthy, sweaty notes are very common in European wines and add complexity in small concentrations. It’s caused by a natural yeast known as Brettanomyces.” Oh, what he meant to say was, in wine geek parlance, “it’s “Brett”. So why are they (deliberately?) appearing in New World wines here in Chile?

Fast forward to this past Friday evening, we pull a bottle of our house wine from the cellar, a Paul Bruno 1999 Cabernet-Carmenere from Viña Aquitania from the Maipo Valley. I am anxious to see how it will pair with my achiote-garlic rubbed flank steak, roasted baby potatoes and a watercress salad. To my utter dismay, upon opening it, there it is again, damned Brett…the barnyard in its full stinky galory (note: this is the second bottle in this case like this!).

What is Brett anyway and how does it “get” in wine and transform it, from leathery to pig-sty-esque?? Brett could be classified as a spoilage yeast where in most wineries it is controlled by carefully using sulfur dioxide during the barrel aging process. A couple winemaker friends seemed to imply that the increasing appearance of Brett in Chilean wines could be due to tendency to employ more European styles of vinification such as natural yeast fermentation, minimal intervention and sulphuring, and higher pH levels, all to produce more pure expressions of the grape, especially for higher quality wines with special vineyards. So if we have a European (or trained) winemaker does that make Brett more likely? To what extent is Brett acceptable?

Just to egg the debate on, I question is if Brett is truly an expression that adds to complexity or does it actually blur the wine lines confusing consumers about the grape and its regional distinctions (including wine geeks like myself). In my (limited) experience, I guess, like everything in wine, it all boils down to one's own taste. I can remember some great left bank Bordeauxs with that musty, saddle component that added depth to the wine, but then as of late, I have come more across its “crappy” counterparts. Hmm…the only way to really come to any conclusion then is to keep on tasting.

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Monday, September 18, 2006

Feliz 18: Empanada and BBQ mania

Ahhh, the smell of meat grilling. Santiago has gone up in a big cloud of smoke--from the carbon on the grills that is. Today is Day 4 of the 5-day Independence Day long weekend here in Chile; today being the actual Independence Day, September 18. Festivities commenced at noon on Friday with a mass exodus of residents (only about one million people) towards the coast and countryside. Chileans celebrate the "18", which coincides usually with the beginning of nicer spring weather (note: out my window  here in Santiago it is cloudy and about 58F) usually in the form of the social ritual known as the asado, or barbeque. Not to be confused with the North American equivalent, here gas grills are not an acceptable form of fuel (only mesquite wood) and no hamburgers or hot dogs are permitted. The fare is strictly meat: steak, chorizo, pork spareribs, meat skewers, and the ubiquitious empanadas de pino (meat), all washed down by cheap wine, beer, or even more traditional, grape cider known as chicha. Salads may make an appearance depending on the venue but vegetables tend to be sidelined this weekend.

If going the private route, with friends or family, asados are a full day drinking and eating engagement starting at lunch and lasting all afternoon (after all, it does take several drinks to get the fire going). Party goers then head for the fondas (nap optional in between), public venus organized with live typical music, folkloric dancing like Cueca and later in the night cumbia, and of course, more food and drink (same asado style, this never changes the whole weekend). The fondas during the day tend to be more family-oriented with rodeos in the rural communities with the Chilean cowboys (huasos), traditional games like kite flying, and more food. The 18 is a time to relax, be with friends and family, and well, stuff yourself. This is by far the busiest  time of the year for empanada bakeries, butcher shops, and artesian chicha producers.

Having just returned from several days in the Colchagua Valley (wine country but also a very traditional rural area) from a tour de force of wine tastings my significant other (who is Chilean) and I decided to pass on the festivities and just chill out and relax these days. Not a bad idea--and according to the nutritionist on the evening news who gave a rough overview of the caloric values of these traditional foods and beverages, we probably saved ourselves easily 20,000 calories, or about 6 pounds. Let me translate that for those of you who are gym goers like myself, roughly 35 hours of rigorouos exercise. Hmmm...

But then again, it is the 18 after all...maybe tomorrow we will give in and have just one homemade empanada. Being patriotic counts for something I suppose!

However you decide to celebrate, Feliz 18!!!

 

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Saturday, September 02, 2006

Old grapes Find New World (Financial Times)

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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Made in Chile: Emporio Nacional

I just stumbled upon my gastronomic discovery of 2006 in Santiago: Emporio Nacional. It is a “Made in Chile” goodie store; a gourmet delicatessen sporting Chile’s finest temptations from jams like Cochayuyo (that seaweed I never know WHAT to do with) or spicy ají (chili) to local cheeses like sheep’s milk from the Patagonia or the creamy Jack-style Mantecoso from German descendants in the southern Lakes district. Chorizo and longanizas (spicy sausages) from Chillán and whole Serrano-style hams made by a Spanish immigrant family hang from the ceiling and the whole place smells toasted with spices like the smoky Merkén from the south, earthy crushed cumin, and chuchoca (fine grain cornmeal). Being an olive oil junkie, I was bowled over by their collection of fantastic oils—from mainstream decent to the cult variety like Novello. The list is of their inventory is endless and well-selecte, but the basic requisite to be in the store is to be, well, “Made in Chile”, but gourmet this time. Hallelujah.

Emporio Nacional definitely made me raise my eyebrows at some of their innovative flavor combinations and offerings, but it also caught my attention for its quality, and I have since made two trips this past week. The place itself gets an “A” for its digs—a corner old-time grocery store that has been painstakingly remodeled and decorated with much care and style to give it the polished feeling of another époque; an emporium where perhaps our (Chilean) grandparents may have shopped as children. Most importantly, in a country where the majority of taste buds fall on the bland side and mayo, sugar, and salt are still major food categories (think US cuisine in the era before Julia Child), this is a MAJOR addition to the gourmet food stuff places that truly promote the local gastronomic culture. As you can gather, I am very stoked about this.

For more information, check out www.emporionacional.cl They even have home delivery if you live in Santiago, although a detour to the actual store (at least the first time) is definitely worth the trip. And for you foodies visiting Santiago, do not miss this brilliant piece of native gastronomic culture. In Chile they say, “Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are” (obviously taken from the words of the ultimate gourmand Brillat-Savarin), but definitely, Emporio Nacional is a great peeping hole into this curious (food) idiosyncrasy known as Chile—and you will find some exquisite local gems to share with your friends at home.

Contact information:

Emporio Nacional

Bellavista 0360 (corner of Punta Arenas, behind the Clínica Santa María), Providencia

56 (2) 481 3820

info@emporionacional.cl

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Sunday, August 20, 2006

“Vinos de Chile” on the radar: The Primo Wine Fair in Chile

Ladies and Gentlemen: once again, the wine fair in Santiago known as Vinos de Chile (in its 12^th version) will take place at the Hotel Plaza San Francisco September 27, 28, and 29. I am not a huge fan of large wine fairs as they are crowded, overwhelming, and in my experience, many times the wines served hit the mid-range ho-hum variety. However, not here! This event, well-organized and sporting a decent entrance fee to cover the costs, establishes itself in a different niche. Oriented for wine aficionados of all levels, the focus is on educating the consumer and ultimately creating more interest in wine via tasting, learning, and perhaps some mingling. In Chile, I need to underscore how important events like this are! Although Chile is large wine-producer, almost 95% of total production is exported and most (average) Chileans still reach for a piscola (local grape brandy with coke) or beer. We need to help induce and spread the wine-drinking culture and appreciation here urgently!

Back to the event. To get future wine geeks (I mean, consumers) really into the event there will be blind tastings; tastings of the great wines from Apalta (this includes Clos Apalta, Montes M, Purple Angel, and Folly, and the newcomer blend, Neyén); the “Aroma” table (sniff and ask a sommelier to clarify); great workshops on wine topics of interest for those wanting learn more about the lay of Chilean wine like Getting to Know Organic Wines; Climate and Vineyards of San Antonio Valley (Chile’s hot little number producing good whites and Pinots with inspiring volume and acidity); The Great Wines of Apalta (the hyped micro valley in Colchagua), and What is Icewine? (A wine Canadians make well and they are trying to make artificially here, boo!). If that isn’t enough to get you to the door, then okay, the entrance fee includes tastings from 40+ great wineries, a permanent cocktail prepared by Chilean cuisine evangelist Chef Guillermo Rodriguez and a souvenir wine glass. So for all you Chilean enophiles, if you live here or happen to be in town, it would well be worth for your wine education to swing by have a swirl, sniff, sip, schmooze, and nibble.

Essential info:

Entrance fee: 19.900 Chilean pesos (around US$35)—includes tastings at all stands, cocktail, and wine glass.
Tickets go on sale September 4, 2006. www.feriadevinos.cl or www.plazasanfrancisco.cl

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Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Las Doscientas: 200% Olive Oil

     In Chile there has been a major increase in good quality, low-acid extra virgin olive oil production in the past couple years, although still only a fraction of it is being exported. That picture is rapidly changing and soon, I imagine that many Chilean oils will end up on the shelves of goodie stories like Dean & Deluca in New York. In the mean time, those of us down here in Chile are also enjoying discovering these delicious olive oil gems!     

A couple months ago I was invited to sit as part of a tasting panel of freshly pressed oils from the 2006 harvest with around 14 different producers from all over the central valley of Chile (from Ovalle in the north to Talca in the South). In general, the overall quality of was excellent, but within this bunch, there was one olive oil that caught my palate’s attention: Las Doscientas (200). I was smitten at first whiff and sip with its herbaceous aromas, slinky feel in the mouth and a lot of green peppery notes (think arugula). We tried the Arbequina (a slightly more suave variety of olives) at the tasting but a couple weeks later, I received the samples of the 2006 press with a welcome addition: Picual, my hands-down favorite olive oil variety.

The idea of the samples was simple: taste to see how it works with food because as with wine, olive oil becomes a different animal when food enters the equation. And just like with wine, the more you get to know olive oil, the more you recognize the different varieties and their characteristic aromas and flavors that can range from cut grass to bitter almonds to pepper or even smoke. I tend to gravitate towards more medium-weight, balanced, peppery, pack-a-punch oils that still versatile enough to go with everything from stir-fried veggies to “meat” protein to cheese. I have found that in blind tastings this many times translates to Picual. Hence, you can understand my bliss when I found and tried this oil sample. To give you some background on Las Doscientas, the name of the oil is derived from parcel of land where the olive grove is planted in the area of Pencahue located in the Maule valley, about 100 miles south of Santiago. The olives were harvested in May and recently pressed with no filtering Basically, what you are getting is pure olive oil, straight up. The oil has garnered a lot of awards from its excellent quality including the Gold Medal at the LA County Fair in 2005 and 2006 for the Arbequina variety.

If you can find this gem, remember, now is the best time to try this fresh-pressed oil as the curve is DOWNWARD with oils over time—that is, they do not get better with “aging”! It is absolutely worth the effort to procure some other this lovely oil. At press time, we know it is available in the US via the Olive Oil Lover’s club in the Rosengarten report, www.rosengartenreport.com. Good luck!

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Friday, March 24, 2006

Debunking the Chilean Seabass Myth

As of late when dining out in restaurants in and around Chile, I have come to notice (and am alarmed) that most menus do a horrendous translation job when it comes  to accurately defining what Chilean Seabass is in English. For those readers traveling in Chile, please beware of the following misnomer to avoid major food disappointments and gross overcharging when your plate (or bill) arrives.

CORVINA: This indeed is a bass, but not a Chilean seabass. Try a regular old sea bass that swims around in most of the world's oceans. This is lovely, firm, white fish that works in ceviche, roasted, seared with just about everything. However, most restaurants translate this as Chilean Sea Bass (biggest culprits are those in Santiago restaurants frequented by foreigners or on the coast). Don't be fooled; the only reason this bass is Chilean is because it swims in national waters. For reference purposes, average price per kilo for fillet: 5,000-6,000 pesos (US$ 10-12)

MERO: The real deal, or the Chilean seabass we know as imported. Abroad, it can rake in US$40 per pound or even in Chile up to US$20 per pound as it is virtually all exported and few people in the local market will pay the outrageous prices it can garner abroad. Mero is actually Patagonian toothfish, a slimy, black, long fish with firm but oily meat (similar to Salmon but no Omegas here). Most mero in Chile comes frozen due to the long distances it travels from Antarctic waters and due to its high cost, is usually found in more expensive restaurants. Not to beat the environmental drum, it is worth mentioning that this species is under a fishing quarantine during much of the year as the population has been so depleted that it is in risk of extinction. For reference purposes, average price per kilo for fillet: 15,000 (US$ 30)

Personally, I would order the corvina. Or some other great local white, delicious fish like rollizo (Rockfish), robalo (Striped bass), congrio (Monkfish), merluza (Hake), vieja (Grouper) or heck, even the boring old reineta (flounder). Chile DOES have 6,000 kilometers of coastline after all.

Happy Fishing--or dining.

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Tuesday, November 15, 2005

The Art (or not so art) of the Chilean Asado

    

 Another weekend, another asado. Such is life in Chile in the summer. Asados, otherwise know in English as barbeques, are much more than grilled meat and outdoor eating here; they are a full on event and social ritual.  
            We were invited over to our friends’ new house on Saturday night for an asado/housewarming party to put to use their brand new patio with the beautiful late spring weather. When we arrived, the fire was still being “staged”, with Pisco Sours in hand. I should interject here that in Chile, there are virtually no gas grills used like in the US. In fact, I have been called “crazy” or “uncreative” by even suggesting their use or superiority in an asado. There is a major cultural difference in that barbeques in South America are actually made with wood or carbon, which in all fairness, do infuse a more complex flavor into the meat if prepared correctly. “Making” and “taking care of” the fire also turns an asado into a cultural ordeal with the men strategizing the best way to get the fire going, maintaining the temperature, and of course, cooking the meat to perfection (with or without any previous experience, of course). The gals are usually exiled to the kitchen for the salads or to make drinks.
             In this instance, there was no vessel for the barbeque such as a metal drum or actual asado equipment, only several cement blocks whose parameter made up the fire pit over sand. In the bottom of the pit, carbon and recycled wood from the demolition (80 years old they assured, extra flavor) was put with a wine bottle encased in old newspaper. They removed the bottle (which retained the shape) and lit the newspaper, which slowly burned igniting the carbon and wood, eventually creating glowing, red coals. They stacked a couple extra cement blocks to get the height needed for cooking and then popped on some chicken skewers and famous chorizo, or spicy pork sausage. Everything looked okay at this point so the party went on autopilot.
            30 minutes later, the first round of food is ready: the skewers and choripan, the chorizo eaten inside marraqueta (baguette-style bread) with (or without) mayo. Everything is delicious. The meat and chicken in gringo-style barbeque sauce (my offering to the festivities) were then added to the grill. I noticed however, as the wine drinking increased, that the fire seemed to be slowing down and our grill master had disappeared. After another 30 minutes of negligence, the fire had stopped giving off any significant heat and people, now very hungry, were wondering when dinner would be served (sorry guys, no time soon). Our friend, the host and grill master, decided that an emergency procedure would be needed to resuscitate the fire from its desperate state. He removed the grill (a simple oven rack) and two of the blocks. He disappeared to his photography studio and returned with a huge fan which he plugged in. He then turned on the fan full blast, trying to generate enough air (more like a wind storm) to get the flames going again over fresh wood and carbon. Now, this could have worked in theory had the fire been confined to a cement jail cell. What wasn’t calculated was the huge pile of wood directly behind the pit which promptly almost caught on fire (as his fiancé freaked out). Mission aborted. More wood was needed for the fire so one of the invitees, with cigarette and red wine balancing in one hand, decided to hack at a piece of wood into splinters. I was cringing hoping to avoid calling the firemen or ambulance at this point.
               Next, a sushi fan was brought out which between 5 people (now all suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome) fanned like hell for 15 minutes to get the flames and charcoal glowing. It worked--somewhat. Enough to half-cook the chicken and some of the steak. The solution our grill master decided was to lower the rack to bring the meat to roughly 1 inch from the flame to cook faster. Uh-oh. At this point, now midnight with growling stomachs, I motioned to finish searing the meat in a fry pan and roasting it in the oven. There was no way a 1.5 kilo chunk of meat (not cut down into smaller steaks) was going to finish cooking before 7am. I mean, come on!, the ritual aspect was gone, hunger ruled, and we had a working stove and oven over this makeshift pit. I was outvoted—the asado must go on. His fiancé insisted we sit down to start in on the delicious salads she had been preparing.
              As we dug into the salads, the grill master appeared, smiling, with a large wooden cutting board, and a singed, black piece of meat. He proudly announced, “See? The meat is finally done”. As he cut into the meat, he described the magic of its perfect doneness as the special salt crust (he roughly poured a ½ cup directly onto it; people with high blood pressure please pass). As he continued to cut, the meat was juicy and pink but as the first slice came off, was so pink, it looked raw. Why! It was totally uncooked in ¾ of the center! An argument ensued among the men at the table about the doneness and their wimpiness for not wanting to try it in that state (from a culinary perspective, it was absolutely uncooked, not even rare doneness).  I passed. The meat, after much debate, was returned to the grill to finish cooking.
               Many bottles of wine later, a delicious French apple tart for dessert and coffee, I happened to notice through the sliding glass door on the patio that the poor piece of meat, an unassuming casualty of the asado, had been forgotten and was still smoking over smoldering coals. Laughing out loud (this was comical at this point), I pointed this out to the hostess, who had lost her patience, and yelled at the grill master, “Look at that (pointing to the fire)! You did it again!!!” Apparently he is a serial steak murderer, having killed another one, to her horror, at an asado the weekend before with her family. Opening the door, the fire with a horrible stench, I was sure that the neighbors had already called the fire department.  The grill master, defeated and slightly drunk, stumbled out to the fire pit and tossed sand over the ashes. The asado saga had ended.
               So, next time when people here call me crazy for wanting to use a gas grill, I think I will just have to tell them this story. Some steak for thought.
           

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Sunday, November 13, 2005

Abs Diet 101

Here’s the deal on the Abs Diet. You eat a lot, every 3 hours. You never should be hungry. There is no portion control—you oversee that. Eat until you are satisfied. Since the foods are high-protein, high-fiber you will fill up quickly and not get hungry for hours (remember anxiety is mental, not physical. You have to learn to decipher body signals).

The cheat sheet for the Abs Diet is:
Almonds and other nuts
Beans and legumes
Spinach and lots of non-starchy vegetables, especially green ones
Dairy (fat-free or low-fat milk, yogurt, and cheese)
Instant Oatmeal (no sweetener or flavor)
Eggs
Turkey and other lean meats and fish
Peanut Butter (homemade with Canola oil, no sugar or salt or preservatives)
Olive oil
Whole-grain bread and cereals
Extra-protein (whey) powder
Raspberries, berries, and other low Glycemic Index fruit
Some tips:

• Keep the booze to 3 drinks per week and if you are going out on a big night, try to hit the gym the day of
  
• You can cheat once a week for one meal—eat anything you want.
  
• Exercise: don’t skimp on this. At least 30 minutes 3-4 times per week. More if you want to see faster and dramatic results.
  
• Off limits, as in don’t even think about buying them and if you already have them in your cupboard, ditch them NOW: refined carbs like white flour or sugar or with a high Glycemic Index, saturated fats (butter is out), trans fat (margarine or those evil hydro oils), and high-fructose corn syrup. Beyond the calories, this stuff is clinically shown to be bad for your health.
  
• Learn to read labels: all those “light”, “low fat”, “low carb” stuff is usually chock full of chemicals or the off limit components above.
  
• Eating in smaller portions every 3 hours is the ultimate weapon for your metabolism. You will rev it beyond belief. To burn calories you have to eat!!! But eat wisely and frequently.
  
• Smoothies are the man!! Mix fruit, yogurt, whey, low-fat milk and ice for a dessert-like breakfast, meal, or snack. I even use low-fat chocolate milk with the peanut butter, fat-free vanilla yogurt and whey for a PB Brownie healthy version.
  
• In 2 weeks you will start feeling different; in 4 weeks you will see the difference; in 6 weeks the Abs will be appearing.
  

More info at www.absdiet.com or you can buy the book for US$7 on www.amazon.com
Good Luck!

 

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Saturday, November 12, 2005

That Four Letter Word: Diet

      In the food and wine world, this word tends to elicit a fair amount of light jokes, chuckles, or even eye-rolling. There seems to be a common consensus among chefs, restaurant and food critics, wine writers, and other gastronomic/wine professions that if you conceive the world via food that somehow it is a virtually impossible feat to eat healthy and stay in shape. There are just too many temptations.
     I was recently at a wine event (a book launching) where one of the presenters told an entertaining story about how a recent college graduate could aspire to become a restaurant critic. One of the points that caught my attention during his story was that he advised this aspiring food critic that in addition to wanting to learn and write about food, he must also be prepared to gain many extra kilos in the process. It left me thinking about why there is a seemingly inherent incompatibility with loving food and wine and staying fit. Does being a gourmand automatically mean that you have to be destined to be fat or flabby—with a highly trained palate of course? Why does the pleasure of the palate have to translate to gluttony, unhealthy food, and lack of control? Why doesn’t the balance of eating well and exercise enter into this equation? After all, isn’t balance what creates a magnificent plate or grand wine? 

    I am a confessed and known health conscious eater and exerciser. Here in Chile, they call me “obsesionada” or “excesiva” with getting up to work out or go to yoga at 6a.m. or passing on the bread (Chileans are carb junkies).  However, my personal experience is that balance—eating healthy and exercising—makes everything, and I mean everything, taste better. Ever try a juicy, sweet mandarine orange after a hard workout? The flavors are pure and intense and go straight to your brain. Crunchy arugula salad with roasted chicken and a drizzle of top quality olive oil. Am I suffering with diet food? No way. Eating healthy is simply the opposite end of the spectrum of all those rich, fatty, gourmet treats I love. You know them: foie gras, paté, stinky French cheese (or high test cheese of any kind), dark chocolate, thai curry, Oaxacan black mole, lamb saag, pommes frites, rich gelatos, cashews, eggs Benedict, peanut butter, mashed potatoes and gravy, the list goes on and on. However, I find if I eat them all the time, I tire of them quickly because they are so rich. The secret to these “goodie” or “specialty” food items is to eat them in small quantities or infrequently so that they never loose their mystery or "food appeal". And when you do try them, wow!, the textures and sensations are more intense and "new".This also applies to eating fresh, delicious vegetables, fruits, whole grains, etc. which make your body feel good. It is important for us gastronomic and wine professionals to not loose sight that the palate is only the entrance for food to our body—and that taste is fleeting. The body assimilates everything we put in it—just like a drug.                                                                                   

     Diet, that is, what you usually eat and drink, has a profound effect on how you look, feel, think, and act. I went through a couple years of looking for some magic formula that would work perfectly for me: Atkins, Fat Flush (you only flush the toilet with this one), South Beach, Low Fat, High Protein, Vegetarian (yoga-induced), etc. Fad diets come and go and did some produce great results. However, the best “diet” I have found, which is more like a moderation lifestyle or diet in the true sense of the word, is the Abs Diet (www.absdiet.com). It is the best way to stay in shape, keep your taste buds amused and waistline under control. It works because its principals are based on smart eating (the kind that all personal trainers preach) and you can still eat all the goodies in moderation.  And of course, I cannot emphasize exercising enough: walking, running, gym, biking, yoga, anything you want, just get off your butt and move it. Calories are like a bank account, but in this case you want a negative balance!! If you try to find the balance, I guarantee you will savor those red, ripe cherries in their maximum sweetness as much as that creamy and pungent chevre with a Sauvignon Blanc. More on the Abs Diet for those interested in the next post.

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Thursday, November 03, 2005

Just Say No

   It is 10:30 p.m. and only two of my 13 guests have arrived. The invitation stated 9:30 p.m. very clearly as the time that the party would start. Everyone invited RSVP-ed that they were coming. “So why are they all so late?”, I grumble to my boyfriend and two other friends who arrived on time. I look at my margarita glass nearly empty (again). At this rate, by the time the rest of the crowd rolls in, I will be wasted from just waiting for them to arrive.
   Throwing dinner parties in Chile as an expat has been, quite frankly, hell. Not that I don’t actually enjoy the parties or the preparation but there are a few cultural factors that even after many years living here still are hard to swallow: unpunctuality, false acceptances of invitations, or worse, the endless bag of excuses of why someone couldn’t make it and never called. If committed in the US, these would be the ultimate social faux pas. The offending person would be blacklisted; ostracized; absolutely confronted about the absence. In Chile? People say nothing at best and let it pass off as no big deal. Well, I am tired of acting like it is no big deal. In fact, I have had it, the colmo, as we say in Spanish. Let’s go item by item to understand this veritable cultural phenomenon that has me perplexed and stressed when I want to have people over for dinner.
    Unpunctuality. Latins in general are not exactly known for being “on time”. Chileans, however, tend to be far more punctual than others, although there does seem to be a superseding notion of lack of respect for the other person’s time and effort by arriving consistently at least 15 minutes late for everything. This manifests itself for appointments of all sorts, including business meetings, so imagine how it translates to the social scene. In Chile, for social engagements it is considered rude to actually arrive on time; even worse, early. The rule of thumb is to usually add 30 minutes to the time stated on the invitation. I now have adopted the habit of asking, half laughingly but totally serious, if the invitation is Gringo or Chilean time. The difference is huge. The night of the my Mexican dinner party, the rest of the guests did turn up—but not before 11p.m., the last one arriving at 12:30a.m., or three hours late. At no time did the phone ring with any one of them saying, “Hey, I am running late, I will be there in 30 minutes.”  I was bowled over by their lack of timing and courtesy. I had cooked all day!
   Another common happening in many dinner parties is people accepting invitations knowing very well that they cannot nor wish to attend. This baffles me beyond comprehension. As one Chilean friend explained to me (as I was in a rage), “Liz, people here do not want to hurt your feelings or create a conflict. They feel like you want to hear a yes, so it better to accept and then not come, rather than turn you down to your face.” Say what? Hmm... Somehow a polite no doesn’t seem to be nearly as rude as flat out not coming. From the stand point of the hostess, this rationalizing is ridiculous as obviously other people could have been invited who actually would have come. If there are any Chileans reading this, pleeeeasssse, just learn to say no. Really. It is infinitely more rude to accept and be a no-show than to be honest from the get-go. A lot of thought and planning go into a good party and if invited, it is because some truly wants you to come. Show some respect regardless of your answer. I know not all Chileans behave in this manner, but unfortunately, there are more than a few who do.
     Finally, a subcategory of the above topic: people who accept and always have an “escape route”. What do I mean by this? They accept with some amount of a bona fide intention of attending but always have a well thought-out excuse ready if something better comes up. Dinner party commitment phobia? Maybe. In Chile, I have seen a pattern that these excuses are almost always sensitive issues, like family, personal, or health-related issues. Why? Think about it. It is difficult to reproach someone for not coming (nor calling to say they couldn’t make it). In my experience, it can even work against you if not handled expertly. You, yes you, will be cast as the insensitive bad guy because you didn’t ask nor act understanding of their situation and know it would have been an impossible feat for them to advise you of their absence. Of course emergencies happen. Everyone knows and understands that. However, when it happens 3, 4, or 10 times, it seems to be more than coincidental.
    How do I now protect myself from these dinner party woes and still manage to have a good time? I am currently  creating an “approved list” of friends and colleagues who are trustworthy and have proven their dinner acceptances. However, I still have some flaky friends that I enjoy seeing from time to time. I guess if I really want them to come, I have to take the calculated cultural risk and incorporate it into the planning. And worst case scenario? As in, everybody confirms and nobody comes? Well, to be truthful, that has never happened here. And if it does happen someday, after my initial rant, I probably will enjoy having all the leftovers for the next week.

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Wednesday, November 02, 2005

New Age Wines?

         Alan York, Biodynamics master-extraordinaire looks in his mid-50s. He has thick, shiny, silver hair cut  stylishly, framing his tanned and weathered face with tiny, piercing eyes. His voice sounds youthful with speech that is paused and thoughtful. There is something slightly hippie in the way he pronounces and lets the words roll off his tongue that makes me imagine him in 1970s California saying “Peace Out”. In actuality, he is a hippie. He is a wine hippie. He is bringing winemaking back to nature, or at least that’s what he’s trying to do.
            Earlier this week, a select group of journalists and wine-related personalities in Chile were invited to the eastern end of the Aconcagua Valley, 1.5 hours north of Santiago, by Viña Errazuriz to check out the latest happenings of its premium icon wine, Seña, which has enlisted the help of Alan York in giving a total facelift to its winemaking philosophy. Here we got to tour the vineyard, meet Alan York, enjoy a swish picnic on top of the terraces with a fabulous view of the entire valley, and of course, try the famed Seña.

A Crash Course in Biodynamics
       Biodynamics is often thought of as the first cousin of organic winemaking. Its name is derived from two Greek words: “bios”, meaning life, and “dynamic”, meaning it expresses energy. Its basic philosophy, as put by Mr. York, is “having a hand fit in a glove”. At a glance, Biodynamics seems to fall somewhere between hocus-pocus, black magic, niche marketing and a ritual and faith-based horticultural process. It was created in the 1920s by the Austrian Rudolph Steiner.
     The overriding principal of Biodynamics is that each vineyard is a live being and has its own individuality. No doubt here we can jump into the on-going discussion on the authenticity of wines and that abused and over-used word, authentic. I am going to save that debate for later in the piece. For now, let’s give Biodynamics the benefit of the doubt. To rapidly paraphrase, based on the four elements (air, water, earth, fire), Biodynamics seeks to find balance and harmony for the vines in their natural environment, aligning agricultural practices with the cycles throughout the year and symbolic components such as the fertility of the cow and other herbs. The final objective is to create a wine that is the most natural and singular expression of the earth where the vines are grown, not unlike the A.O.C. in France, or the “Estate wines” in the New World. The vineyard must follow the strict agriculture rules set forth by the Demeter Association for 36 months in order to be certified as a Biodynamic vineyard (and wine).
      During our visit, Mr. York explained and showed us a demonstration of Preparation 500, one of the various “rules” (or rituals, as I would call them) in Biodynamics. Preparation 500 prepares the soil to fertilize the vines. Basically, cow horns (of a female cow, which are considered “sacred” in Biodynamics) are filled with cow manure and buried curved-side downwards in the most fertile patch of soil on the property (in this case it was in a ravine/oasis) on the spring equinox. Okay, I will admit, I was suspicious at this point. Spring equinox? Sacred cow horns? Cow dung? It gets better. To prepare the fertile manure, which is dug up at the fall equinox, you must hollow out the cow horns and then stir the cow dung around in a vortex motion; that is, a rhythmic circular motion for an hour. This is then diluted with water and spread around the vines. Why a vortex? Well, this is how the energy of the universe circulates and creates matter so since the point here is to infuse energy (life force) and levity into the soil, this is considered key.
       As I listened to Mr. York explain the different “preparations”, I got more and more skeptical; this seemed to border on an existential philosophy lecture in college. He spoke of polar sprays, life forces, cornucopias, expressions, energetic levels, all of these fine tune those little grapes to not need intervention in winemaking, supposedly harmonizing all the internal chemistry so as to not need yeast, sulphurs, etc. Hmmm... I will say that his passion and knowledge of the material was impressive but however, now a non-believer, I just couldn’t take it at face value. All I kept thinking was, “So how will this new, improved, Biodynamic Seña taste? What is Biodynamics really going to do to the wine? We there be a palatable difference? How do we know that is Biodynamics?” Good question(s).  

The Debate on “Authentic” Wines
            Before continuing, I want to interject this worthwhile topic on the debate surrounding “authentic” wines. It is quite relevant before I plunge into how this applies to Seña. This first run-in with Biodynamics definitely raised my eyebrows with suspicions as it rests more on the stars than on science. It also reinforced the undying presence of these buzz words “real”, “authentic”, “natural”, “hand made”, “traditional” that keep reappearing again and again in the wine world.  So what does this “back to nature” call really mean? Wine is being “less” intervened than before? I read an interesting recent post by wine blogger, Huge Johnson, that sustains that if it wasn’t for man intervening in the winemaking process, all we would have is vinegar. That’s all nature makes. He asserts that these recent claims for authenticity are in part from demand from consumers wanting assurance as to where there wines are coming from and how they are made. This is also known as Marketing. These tendencies to “return to nature” didn’t really appear in the wine industry until the mega multinational wine companies began to emerge.  He continues on in the article probing the “industrialization” of wine and what that means for the supposed magic and uniqueness (like the “art” and terroir concepts) of winemaking.  It is a great worthwhile read; for full article continue here.
            So are there any “authentic” wines out there? Yes, I think so. I find that they are usually the small producers. Those garage or small wineries that make their wines by hand; trying to define and express their terroir. It has just become blurry to define which are the ones that are purely well-marketed versus the ones that are truly well made. Remember, biodynamic wines don’t guarantee good wine, but they are always authentic I suppose. I am interested to see what the 360 degree spin in Seña’s winemaking philosophy will produce. It is a big gamble. The larger question though—is it quality or market driven? Or both?

Seña is leaving its Sign
     For those of you not entirely familiar with Seña, let’s start with a little background on the winery and its wine. It is, after all, one of Chile’s finest. Seña in Spanish means a distinguished personal signature. It is considered the first “luxury” wine in Chile. Back in the 1980s, when Robert Mondavi paid a visit to Chile, he saw the potential for Chile to produce world class wines. Later, in 1995, Mondovi formed a partnership with Viña Errazuriz, one of Chile’s traditional, historic wineries, to make Seña as their “icon” wine. Last year, Mondavi cashed out after the huge Constellation Brands buy-out and Seña became full property of Errazuriz, under the leadership of Eduardo Chadwick.
            The vineyards are located to the north of Santiago, in the Aconcagua Valley. In particular, Seña lies in a micro valley that gets a fair amount of fog, only 41 kilometers from the Pacific Ocean. This means that the temperatures are lower than other parts of the valley, allowing the grapes to mature fully but slowly. Although the original blend has been the three classic Bordeaux varieties: Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Carmenere (which every Chilean winery wants a piece of), they are now planting Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Malbec and a miniscule amount of Syrah. The future final blends will depend on the harvest quality of each grape. During our visit, they were prepping the vineyard for planting and carving out some impressive terraces out of one of the hillsides. Seña has definitely invested time and effort in landscaping and having the vineyard meld into the natural landscape with beautiful espinos, yellow-flowered bushy-type trees, Poplar groves, small, gushing rivers, flowers, and curvy roads that show off their vines.
            Now, all this being said, I want you to better understand the path that has led them to Biodynamics; or my impression based on this visit. Seña was hitched up for 10 years with Mondavi, which love Mondavi or not, their huge international recognition and legacy not only validate the brand, they also sell it. So what happens when you take them out of the picture? A scramble for identity. Seña suddenly needs to reassess its niche in the market; how to get to its market; how to position itself; how to distinguish itself from the steep competition in “world class” wines (Seña runs about US$100 per bottle, fyi). Basically, there is no more wine sugar daddy to fall back on. Therefore, it makes sense to a certain extent to start a new chapter. Go in a totally new direction. Define themselves, well Seña, as wine that is totally different and not dependent on the Mondavi association. Biodynamics is a tempting vehicle to realize this high goal. To me, it seemed somewhere between a genuine initiative, a leap of faith, a calculated gamble, and definitely a potential marketing ploy. I will give them credit, it’s ballsy. The stakes are high. This is their best. They are placing their bets that this is going to keep them flying higher and higher.  Time will tell if Biodynamics pays the dividends they are expecting.

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Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Stratégie du Supermarché

       I will admit that I am somewhat “under-studied” in French wines. The problem is, for as much as great wine as Chile produces, that is all we get here. Hence, a wine knowledge deficit is inevitably created. To combat this void, I decided to go to France for Vinexpo in Bordeaux this past June to bone up on the material. It was far from a crash course in French wines, it was a total overload of information and stimulation. After 5 days at Vinexpo, I was totally overwhelmed by the shear breadth of the A.O.C. and amount of wines, and my palate felt like it has run a marathon. For once in my life, I decided to accept I was lost and needed help so I let my French friends pick le vin, sat back, sipped, relaxed, and nodded with approval. This strategy worked brilliantly—until of course, I was left alone the day before leaving Paris. I had bought a couple “interesting wines in Bordeaux but I wanted to fill my carry-on to capacity—I had 7 wines to go. I was not going back to Chile until I had a full case.

Pressed for time, I had to fit my wine shopping into a 2-hour window. Since I was staying that particular day with friends near the Port D’Orleans metro in suburban Paris, I decided it was too far to make the trek to some specialty shops I knew in the 7^th or 3^rd arrondissements. I would just have to suffice with what the closest supermarket had stocked. A total gamble, I know. To improve my odds of scoring, I decided to establish some sort of buying strategy as I walked to the store. I was not looking for grand crus, but drinkable wines that average people in France drink on a weekly (or daily) basis. That would be easy, right? Make an educated guess based on some Chateau I had heard of, the region, and of course, if the label “talked” to me or not.  

            The store was akin to the French version of Walmart with the wines section occupying 10% of the whole floor space, or about 8 full aisles of wine. With the clock ticking, I tried not to freak out. Focus, focus! I first did a quick pass by to get a sense of how they organized their wines. This particular store had cleverly arranged everything by variety (whites, reds, rosés, champagne, dessert and fortified wines) and then subdivided them into regions. Since I was basically looking for a needle in the haystack, but no idea where or what the needle was, I decided to buy from all the different wine regions which focused on the reds that potentially interested me: Burgundy, Bordeaux, Rhone, Languedoc, Beaujolais.  I was equally clueless as to what the average breaking point was for an average “okay” wine (in Chile it seems to hover around the US$10-12 mark). To error on the safe side, I decided to buy in the same range, but in euros. From there, I flat out guessed based on the label. At one point as I filled up my cart (now with a wine shopper’s high), I felt like I was picking wisely chosen lottery tickets. So did I find any winning numbers?
       The results have been surprisingly decent, given the calculated gambling theory I applied. The first bottle we tried was in the presence of one of my good friends, a talented winemaker here in Chile. We were going to cook pumpkin risotto together so I chimed in that I would bring a bottle of the mystery Bordeaux blend I had bought. On the way over in the car, I started to doubt my own enthusiasm in sharing this wine with him (super refined palate), and then began playing out all the worst case scenarios in my head, which all basically reduced to the wine being a vinegar with sandpaper tannins. I prayed harder. My friend, who had lived in France for many years, had never heard of Chateau Bertrand, but he was quick to add that nobody could possibly keep track of all the chateaux. Nice try to calm my nerves; didn’t work. To keep me on pins and needles a little longer, he made a show decanting it. I can only say that when I brought the glass to my nose, not only was the smell okay (no apparent defects), it actually had a decent nose. I was slightly relieved. It was a dark, concentrated wine made from a blend of Carignan, Grenache, Syrah, and Mouvedre grapes. It had a toasty woodiness that reminded me of autumn (went well with the risotto) and the red berry fruit was quite balanced. The (winemaker’s) conclusion? Decent now; probably better a couple years from now. Live and learn, considering how I bought it.

        Recently, I opened a bottle no. 2, a Beaujolais. I was totally unfamiliar with the Gamay grape other than it was a cousin of Pinot Noir and I knew I had to drink it cold, between 10 and 12 C. I had heard people rave about this wine in the summertime and its crispness and slinky body, even though it was a red wine. With summer approaching in Chile, I was in the mood for a light wine but not white and I was not willing to touch the Pinot Noir I brought back (yet). The occasion seemed perfect. The Beaujolais cru I bought, from Beaujolais-Villages, was from Honoré Lavigne, the Cuvée Spéciale. The wine was earthy and had a silky body style with easy-to-swallow in addition to mouthwatering berry fruit. Very simple but totally drinkable (as I write this post, I am killing the rest of the bottle). Lesson learned? Just goes to show that sometimes a shot in the dark can hit a target, when a miniscule ounce of logic is applied. And yes, now I do know how to read a French wine label.
 

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Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Chilean Liquid Gold

  Today the 3rd annual Chilean Olive Oil "Summit" was held by Chileoliva, the Association of Chilean Olive Oil Producers. Most people (including many Chileans) don't realize it, but olive oil in Chile is quickly becoming the next hottest gastronomic commodity, following the wine suit with the majority of production exported abroad and providing consumers with a great price-quality ratio.  The focus of the event is for the whole industry to get together to share knowledge and experiences ranging from agricultural and planting issues to developing business models; and of course, a schmooze and networking session.

   Sure, sounds interesting, but given it was a whole day endeavor, I had to prioritize so I opted to attend purely the hands-on (read: fun) part: the guided tasting. I am by no means an olive oil taster extraordinaire but I have been to my fair share. I must confess that I was a tad disappointed by the content of the lecture part. The presenter, an Italian "capo", or in Chilean spanish "absolute master", of olive oil, rambled on and on  in untranslated Italian for a good while before actually getting to the tasting (which was in plastic cups, some of the effect was definitely lost).

   Since olive oil tasting is less known than wine tasting, I thought I would give some tips to trying it at home. It really is a good time, especially before a dinner party. You can sop up the leftovers with sourdough or baguette and they pair beautifully with wine.

Olive Oil Tips: DO try this at home

Lesson 1: For good olive oil, just as with wine, the primary ingredients are key. Don't buy crappy or cheap olive oil. Chances are it is rancid. Know what you are buying and try different brands and varieties. Just as with vino, styles, mixes, and olives vary. Just because it says "extra virgin" doesn't guarantee anything, many places can buy bulk and bottle. Try to be educated about what you are buying.

Lesson 2: You may say, I don't know what good olive oil is or how it should be. First clue or suspicion that an olive oil is a bomb: it smells like black olives. This is because rancid olive oil is made from fermenting olives (that's right, those babies are cooking in their own juices long before they get to the press). Once again, primary ingredients. No spiffy Italian machinery will chemically improve olive oil if the olives aren't perfect. A beautiful olive oil will have a fruity, herbaceous nose; slight bitterness on the palate; and a peppery note on the back of the throat.  A balanced oil will have these harmlessly melded together, in varying strengths.

I am going to throw in a note here about rancid olive oil in general. Most of the world produces, sells, buys, and consumes "spoilt" olive oil. Spain is one of the major culprits of this, so in my personal experience, beware of those tinned Spanish olive oils. As we learned above, olive oil ironically should not taste nor smell like olives.

Lesson 3: Olive oil has a very short shelf life. Try to consume it as close as possible to the date when it is pressed and bottled. Do NOT employ wine aging tactics here. The curve towards spoilage is downwards (meaning it starts great and gets progressively less impressive over the course of its life). On average, olive oil from say 2005, should be consumed in 2005. Try this little experiment. Buy two bottles of a great cold press extra virgin oil you like, close to the date it is pressed and bottled (this is not as hard as it sounds, especially if you live in California). Try and consume one immediately (in Chile Harvest is in May so I am thinking this must be October/November in California or Italy). Save the other one for 6-8 months later and then try. The difference is literally palatable. Eat/drink up young.

Also, dark bottles go far towards prolonging the life of oil as it saves it from light exposure. However, if you are a hard core olive oil consumer (like most Italians who consume 21+ liters per year per PERSON), I doubt this ever becomes an issue.

Lesson 4: Taste all olive oil with hunger. Your palate is more receptive and the flavors will seem more intense. My fellow food writer friend Daniel Greve, who took a 10-day course on Olive oil tasting Rome, informed me of this little detail this morning--as we sat there fighting over the last baguette slice.  

Tasting 101: Basic Technique (this will not be graded)

1. Real olive oil tastings use glass small cups, similar to rounded votive candle holders. These are shaded blue to mask the color of the oil as it is in unimportant in the evaluation of an oil. If you cannot find any, no problem. Just don't make any final judgments based on color; it can be deceiving. The reason these little cups are rounded is that you can twist them in your hand to "heat up" the oil (more in number 3.).

2. Get some decent fresh bread (baguette or sourdough work well); or peeled and sliced green (Granny Smith) apples. You need these snacks between oils to refresh the palate. Personally, I find the acidity of the green apple much more refreshing and cleansing.

3. To get going, measure out a tablespoon or so (good drizzle if you guesstimate) into the glass cups. Take one of the cups in your hand. Grab it with all your fingers in a good grip, and turn right and left in your other hand, palm cupped. As I mentioned above, you are creating friction and therefore heat to slightly heat the olive oil. In professional olive oil courses, they have machines that do this, but remember, this is the "home" version. Turn the oil about 20 times, smelling the oil frequently for its fruity, herbaceous aromas.

4. Now to taste the oil. Just a little sip, but enough to cover the tongue but there is a trick to doing this right. Suck it! And when I  mean suck it, as in draw in air, force it through your front teeth, moving your lips in what looks like a fake smile. It should make a loud hissing sound and you MUST use your facial muscles. This is no time to be shy. You are trying to cover the tongue and palate with the olive and perceive the largest amount of sensations possible. Once in your mouth, apart from the oil "texture" covering the mouth, you will also perceive some amount of bitterness (this is desirable in a good oil to a certain extent) and then, my favorite part, the prickly, peppery, spicy notes in the back of your throat. 

You can spit or swallow here. I find spitting less desirable than with wine as it is not liquid and has less volume (okay, it can be downright gross). You "sip" so little, a few drops won't hurt you so I suggest just swallowing it. In fact, most doctors would argue it is good for you.

Experiment. There are all kinds of great olive oils with different styles, "terroir", olives, etc. I have found through trial and error that I love the really green, wild, spicy oils right off the press. Other people adore more balanced oils (where the bitterness and spiciness is less)--these tend to be more popular generallly as they appeal to a wide audience.   

Buena suerte!

 

 

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Monday, October 17, 2005

The "Body" of Wine

The other night at a wine dinner, engrossed in intense conversation among people in the food and wine industry in Chile , the most memorable part of the evening was perhaps the description of wine by the winemaker of Amayna (Viña Garcés Silva), Claudia Gomez. She described a Bordeaux-style blend (as assembled in Chile) as a womanly figure and how the different varieties work together to create a wine diva:
"Cabernet Sauvignon is the skeleton of the wine. Since most guys don't like raily girls, we start filling in with flesh, or the Carmenere (indicating and drawing with a pencil, "here, here, here and here", not unlike a plastic surgeon). Then, since excess body fat is not all that attractive we need to add some muscle tone to firm up the body so here we add some Merlot. If we really want the wine to get ripped and show some muscles, a touch of Cabernet Franc. And finally, all women know that a healthy glow (read: tan) makes you look better so in winemaking, we blend in a little petit verdot for those finishing notes."
That's the body of a perfect wine--or woman.  

 

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Monday, October 03, 2005

My So-Called Career: How Did I End Up Here?

My So-Called Career: How did I end up here?

By Liz Caskey

       “En cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno, vamos con Liz!”. The lights flash on and the cameras swivel around to lock their focus on me in the studio kitchen. Here we go. We are broadcasting live; cooking for all of Chile for the next five to ten minutes. In those brief moments, I become a magician in the kitchen using my bag of tricks to explain the ingredients, preparation techniques, flavor combinations, and presentation tips, while trying to not lose a beat with the fast-paced chit chat of the hosts. Did I mention this is all in Spanish? It all happens so fast that I feel like I am in some veritable cooking time warp making the jump to light speed. Boom, I plate the recipe, one final zoom-in, and the camera cuts to commercials. I can breathe now.  Welcome to my weekly cooking segment on one of Chile’s national morning shows.
          Most of what I refer to as my career today, that is, being the owner of Liz Caskey, Inc., a culinary and wine tour business; a food and wine writer; a Sommelier school student; and a TV chef on Chilean national television, is a far cry from any previous job description I may have had—or even considered applying for. Tack on the fact that I am doing this all in Chile, the farthest possible end of the American continent, and it seems fairly understandable that I frequently get asked, “How (on earth) did you end up there?”
          My life seemed to be following a relatively traditional career path, investment banking in New York, for my first year out of school. At the beginning, my future in the industry seemed bright enough that I was doing mini-calculations of when I could apply for my MBA. However, the honeymoon quickly evaporated with the never-ending 80-hour work weeks and high travel lifestyle. I was tired, bored, and restless. I had even lost my desire to cook (coupled with a miniscule Manhattan apartment kitchen), my lifetime hobby and passion since birth. On a red-eye flight back to New York from Mexico City, after a particularly grueling business trip, I realized that I had to do something immediately or risk watching my life pass by from the 38^th floor of my bank’s office building.  So I resigned. I needed to rethink my general direction. But destiny ironically intervened several weeks later when a similar banking job offer turned up in my e-mail in-box. However, this time the position was based in Santiago, Chile.  I accepted it. Not because of the job itself, but because I subconsciously knew that this was my big chance to change my life.
          My arrival in Santiago is not as arbitrary as it may sound. I did know what I was getting into before I got on the plane this time. I had spent my junior year abroad in Santiago and fallen in love with it: the Spanish, the stunning geography, the laid-back lifestyle, the Mediterranean climate, the general seductive nature of all of South America. Santiago is one of South America’s most sophisticated and modern cities, a thriving metropolis home to 5 million people with spectacular location at the foot of the snowcapped Andes. So back in Chile after a 3-year hiatus, I could hardly believe how things had changed.
The infrastructure was rapidly modernizing; the economy was booming; and by my measure of things, there was a tangible food scene.  At first, I was skeptical because the memories of my homesickness issues during my year abroad, all food-related, still lingered. That year of no authentic Thai, Chinese, Italian, Indian, and Mexican restaurants or ingredients, and Nescafé instant coffee (what Chileans consider “coffee”), left me constantly awaiting culinary care packages filled with dark chocolate, exotic spices, mole, and my other food staples. Now, confronted with a cornucopia of new restaurants, chichi supermarkets, ethnic stores, and invitations to events, I plunged stomach-first into this new gastronomic vision of Santiago.
While some things had significantly improved, I still found the food at many events and restaurants to be lackluster. One thing though was grabbing my attention: the ingredients. They were, in a word, glorious. Fresh native fish and shellfish brought in every morning from the Pacific Coast; a Technicolor of seasonal vegetables and fruits at my local farmers market; herbaceous, green local extra-virgin olive oils; spicy, artesian cold-smoked chorizo; soft cow’s milk cheeses from the southern lakes region of Chile; and finally, new exotic food shops, from Asian to Middle Eastern, opened by newly arrived immigrants offering those hard-to-find spices and condiments.
My love of cooking rapidly returned. Every free weekend, I followed my nose to the market and later dug my hands into the prizes I took home. At first I cooked dinners for my friends, but the dinners soon became parties, and the parties led to recommendations for some informal (but paid) catering. After several months of this, I quit my day job and started my own catering business. Catering was my formal “path” into the food business, but I quickly saw that the Chilean wine industry and tourism were charging full force ahead. I sensed that there were a lot opportunities to be created, all that was needed was an entrepreneurial spark and a lot of gumption. With my catering business faring well, I set out on a concept that I thought could work in Chile: culinary tourism.
          The idea for a culinary tour in Santiago was born when my mother came to visit me in the fall after moving back to Chile. I had recently moved downtown to a hip loft in a remodeled turn-of-the-century building in Barrio Brazil/Yungay, a trendy neighborhood going through gentrification. It was a very different area of the city; in fact, at times I wasn’t sure I was in Santiago. I wandered its labyrinth of tiny, cobblestone streets and plazas, admiring the European facades dating back a century; the quaint almacenes on the every corner; the daily open-air farmers markets in its streets; the stylish new cafés melding with the old schoperías (beer halls); and church bells always ringing. There was an air of another époque. Daily life was played out in the streets. Generations of neighbors knew each other. I was later told, by an older Chilean friend, that this is what is known as vida de barrio (neighborhood life), and Barrio Brazil is one of the few areas of the city that has preserved this unique flavor. Much of Santiago seems to be enamored with importing American-style suburbia.
          During my mother’s visit, I showed her around the neighborhood as I normally went about my daily business: shopping in the farmers market, dropping off laundry with Señora Mónica, buying fresh cheese from the cheese shop, taking the metro into the civic center to pay bills, etc. One evening, after shopping for produce in morning and preparing a delicious dinner together, with a glass of wine in hand, she said, “Honey, I think this would be a really interesting culinary tour for visitors to Santiago. They can see the neighborhood, shop at the market with you, and prepare a meal back with the ingredients back at your loft. You know, your local take on Santiago.” My mind was already spinning with ideas. I had done a tour like this in Oaxaca, Mexico the year before, and it was one of the highlights of my trip there. This was the angle I had been looking for to get the culinary tour idea off the ground.
            And the culinary tour took off. The final product did not stray too far from the original idea. With a lot of hard work, marketing, and PR, it has now become a unique and highly-regarded product in the food and tourism industries in both Santiago and all of Chile. Most importantly, it created the foundation for my current business: food and wine tours outside of Santiago in different wine valleys and Mendoza, Argentina.  On a larger scale, it finally helped me to define the general direction of my life and career. Loving what I do has fundamentally changed my outlook on life. I found a path that has let me explore my passions and continually expand myself professionally and personally like I never had imagined. My success has not been entirely without heartaches or setbacks; I have definitely had my fair share. However, the most important lesson I have learned is that to achieve great success and happiness that risk is almost always inherent. I mean really, what did I have to loose?  

Liz Caskey C’99 is the owner of Liz Caskey, Inc., a company specializing in food and wine tours in South America, in addition to being a food and wine writer, sommelier, and TV chef. She currently resides in Santiago, Chile. For more information, www.lizcaskey.com and check out her blog at http://lizcaskey.blogspirit.com.

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Sunday, September 11, 2005

Transporte de Olfato: Casa de los Espirítus

     Cuando era niña, me escondía en la despensa para oler la diversidad de especias y hierbas secas que usaba mi madre para cocinar. Adoraba los aromas a canela picante, cardamomo sensual, comino térreo y lavanda fragante, me transportaron a tierras lejanas y culturas exóticas. Creciendo en un somnoliento pueblo de Pennsylvania, fue un escape emocionante, aunque etéreo, para viajar el mundo a través de mi olfato.
     Hace unas semanas, mi pareja y yo fuimos a Santa Cruz por el fin de semana. En esta ocasión, más que los vinos, estaba interesada en conocer un lugar que elabora licores artesanales: La Casa de los Espíritus. Honestamente, no tenía idea qué esperar. Un viernes helado, al atardecer, llegamos a la Casa, fuimos recibidos por su anfitriona y una de los artífices de los Espíritus, María. Es una casa de campo típica, rescatada hermosamente con largos pasillos, piso parquet, muros de adobe expuesto y techos altos. Se veía suave y acogedor con la envolvente luz dorada de las docenas de velas prendidas.
     Maria nos guió a través del proceso para elaborar los Espíritus, hechos de aguardiente macerado con una variedad de hierbas, especias y frutos. Durante la visita, sentí una sensación muy familiar. No fue dejá vu, sino un olor que no había sentido en muchos años. En medio de la degustación, la mesa ahora cubierta con pequeños vasos de coloridos licores, logré finalmente identificar el aroma. Provenía de la colección de hierbas secas colgadas desde las vigas. El olor me transportó a una pequeña tienda gourmet en mi pueblo natal que me encantaba de niña. Mi mamá y abuela me llevaban ahí para comprar té, café, hierbas y especias. Mientras compraban, yo recorría la tienda en silencio, absorbiendo los olores en una sobrecarga sensorial para mi nariz. En esencia, yo estaba simplemente descubriendo mi olfato. Más tarde, cuando era más grande y ya podía cocinar sola, el entrenamiento de mi nariz me guió en reemplazo de recetas.
     Ahora, de vuelta en Chile 2005, el golpe de memoria me había dejado mareada. Inhalé profundamente, volada de recuerdos idílicos de mi niñez. De improviso, sentí una ola de nostalgia fuerte. Se fue y se reemplazó con un sentimiento muy cálido. Miré a mi pareja y me sonreí. Me sentí realmente afortunada, haber revivid