huevos con vino

Ten months ago, the best man at my wedding gave me a $50 gift certificate to Salumi.  It took me ten months, for some reason, to make the trip to downtown Seattle for a taste of Salumi salami.

Actually, I know why it took me so long to make it down there.  Salumi has a reputation for limited open hours that rivals some of the shops I’ve been to in Europe.  You know the type of shop I mean: They are open on Tuesdays and Wednesdays from 11:45 AM until 2:15 PM unless they sell out of their stock or somebody says the magic word of the day, etc., etc.  Salumi is open Tuesday-Friday, 11AM to 4 PM.  If you are unemployed, it’s perfect!  However, once you make it to Salumi and you see how hard the people are working there, you begin to understand why they are only open 20 hours per week.  And once you realize they must spend many more hours preparing their insanely good meats, you’re ready to forgive them.

I went to Salumi on a Friday.  I parked a few blocks away in the International District, which is the smart thing to do and I suppose you’d probably need to be a Seattle native to think of parking over there.  Before noon on a Friday, that part of town is bustling with winos urinating on inanimate objects.  I think it’s the train station that drives these men to drink.  It’s hard to say.  Anyway, I walked over to Salumi at about 10:55 AM and there was a 10-person line outside the closed door.  I’ve heard stories about this place so I decided to show up early, and I’m glad I did.

Once inside, Salumi is quite an interesting place.  There is a tiny table at the front of the restaurant next to a large, windowed meat curing room where we can see a bunch of impressive delicacies resting on hooks.  The deli counter is next, which is where all the action happens.  Behind the attentive deli employees are the chalkboards listing the meats, cheeses, and sandwiches made to order, plus rows of huge flat rolls and baguettes for said sandwiches.  The deli counter and the south wall of the building are about 4 feet apart, and that’s where you stand: in a cramped space where 2 people must turn sideways to squeeze past one another.  It reminds me of Europe once again in that the people who founded Salumi have made the most of their small shop space.

Only when you try to order food does the entire experience swerve from Europe to New York City.  Your best bet is to simply ask for one of the premade salame sitting in the basket on the counter.  No written explanations are offered for the variety of salame available, so if you’re wondering what “finocchiona” might be, you better read up before you show up.  Meats are offered seasonally in some cases, so if you arrive in July expecting to buy some cotecchino you will be disappointed. 

I have some experience with Salumi salame: I have eaten their molé salami before.  This salami contains ancho and chipotle chiles, cinnamon, and chocolate, all traditional ingredients in molé sauce.  If you manage to try this molé salami and you live somewhere else in the world, you’ll be on a plane to Seattle in no time, standing in line at Salumi and waiting your turn to order.  It’s that good.  The flavor is somewhere between incredible salami and incredible molé sauce.  Wow.

So, I bought a pre-formed molé salami, plus a Salumi house special salami, which is made with garlic and ginger.  Nice!  I also got a prosciutto, fig paste, and goat cheese sandwich that probably weighed as much as one of Rocky Balboa’s biceps.  Insane.  I ate 95% of it and then spent several hours not eating.  They spread such a thick layer of goat cheese onto the bread, I now require coronary bypass surgery.  It was so worth it, though.

If you find yourself in downtown Seattle (near the train station), on a weekday (but not Monday), at about 10:50 AM (any later and you’ll wait a really long time), and you like pork products (or the odd lamb product), you should stop by Salumi.  I guarantee you’ll enjoy the experience, particularly if you taste the molé salami.  Avoid the lardo, though, unless you know what you’re doing with it.

So, the theme for Wine Blogging Wednesday #36 is “naked” Chardonnay.  That is to say, the theme is for everyone to go out and find some unoaked Chardonnay from any part of the world, taste it, and report back to the wine blogging community.  Awesome!  I’m excited about this one.

Happily for me, my mother gave me a subscription to Wine Spectator for my birthday.  And, as luck would have it, the July issue features a review of the 2004 and 2005 California Chardonnay releases!  Nice.  On page 76, they delve into more detail on the unoaked Chardonnay phenomenon, and a few wineries stand out as possibilities for WBW #36 as a result:

• Mer Soleil Vineyard - Their 2005 Santa Lucia Highlands Silver Unoaked Chardonnay has a long name and a score of 92 besides.
• Diatom - Greg Brewer makes a few different Chardonnays under a couple of different labels, but the 2005 Diatom Santa Rita Hills Huber Chardonnay rates the highest in the realm of Wine Spectator scores (91 points).
• Iron Hose - The 2005 UnOaked Chardonnay comes from the Sonoma region rather than the Santa Barbara region, which makes this wine tempting.

These three wines intrigue me, assuming I can find them in Seattle for less than $30-$40/bottle.  “What, no Kongsgaard?”  Yes, I know you’re wondering about that, but they use oak barrels for their Chardonnays.  Sorry.

If you take a step north from California, you’ll find yourself in Oregon wine country, where they love their oak as much as the Californians do, gosh darn it.  The Oregon Chardonnay Alliance (ORCA) lists seven Oregon wineries in its member list, and all of them mainly stick with Chardonnay bottlings that have been, at least in part, aged in oak.  Some wineries, such as Domaine Drouhin, blend their Chardonnay after aging some of the juice in stainless steel and the rest in oak barrels.  Others, such as Adelsheim, make some Chardonnay that sometimes ages only in stainless steel tanks and not in oak barrels.  I say “sometimes” because their 2006 CH release does have some oak contact, but their 2005 release did not.  Interesting.

I noticed a trend among some of the West Coast wineries: The more expensive Chardonnay releases spend some time resting in barrels, while the cheaper, “entry-level” Chardonnays never touch any oak.  Chehalem is a good example of this phenomenon.  They offer Ian’s Reserve Chardonnay at $32/bottle and their INOX™ Chardonnay at $19/bottle.  The production level of the INOX is also much larger.  I guess the unoaked wines will not age as well, perhaps?  Interesting.

Another point that the Wine Spectator article makes about unoaked Chardonnay is how those wines typically avoid malolactic fermentation, whereby the malic acid becomes lactic acid.  In terms of the difference on your palate, we’re talking about green apples vs. butter, roughly speaking.  I wonder whether the malolactic fermentation process creates Chardonnay that has come, in the US, to be associated with “expensive” Chardonnay or “high-class” Chardonnay, whereas the unoaked stuff has sharper acidity and, therefore, tastes “cheaper” to people.  This article points to the trend toward oaky Chardonnay, confirming some of what I was wondering about the link between expense and oak treatment of wine.  Hmm…

Perhaps I need to find a good unoaked Chablis.  I am still looking for a good reference for such wines, though.  Same with Australian and New Zealand Chardonnays.  Ahh, this is getting too difficult.  Perhaps I’ll just drink some of Wayne Gretzky’s unoaked Chardonnay.  How can someone so great go wrong?

I was very happy to learn today that the Wine Blogging Wednesday effort has its own Web site now.  That’s great news as it consolidates all of the posts and topics into one blog.  Very nice work!

I was also happy to see that WBW #36 has been announced, and the topic is a good one: unoaked (”naked”) Chardonnay.  So-called naked Chardonnay is becoming quite popular lately, as people seem to be refining the “anything but Chardonnay” approach into “anything but oaked Chardonnay.”  Personally, I like oaky Chardonnay, but it does get tiring after a while.

This means, of course, I need to go find a suitable Chardonnay.  I’ve got some Domaine Drouhin, some Radio-Coteau, and some DuMOL at home, and all of them spent some time in contact with oak.  Darn it!  I’ve been looking for a reason to try one of these wines, but I guess I’ll need to keep waiting.  Fair enough.

Luckily, WBW #36 has no constraints on the national origin or price of the Chardonnay.  So if I want to seek out something unAmerican, I can do that.  An unoaked Oregon Chardonnay would also be fun, but I want to find something a little strange this time.  Not as strange, perhaps, as a Prieto Picudo wine, but something different would be a delight.  Stay tuned for my choice!

I say this a lot on my blog, but Odisea is one of my favorite wineries.  Over the last few years, they have significantly diversified their offerings, moving from Tempranillo and Garnacha to a variety of interesting red, white, and even rosé wines.  But I think they are just beginning to hit their stride now that Viognier is being included in the mix.

As a Journey Member, I receive three bottles of wine in four shipments per year.  That adds up to a case of wine spread out over an entire year, which is a pretty nice deal for $300 shipped overall.  Each separate shipment has the latest releases in it; for example, the shipment I received yesterday contained the following:

• 2006 Muse Rosé (2 bottles, 65 cases made) - Grenache (60%), Mourvedre (20%), Tempranillo (18%), Viognier (2%)
• 2006 Angèle (1 bottle, 60 cases made) - Grenache Blanc (97%), Viognier (3%)

The Muse has been released before, but in 2005 it featured a 50/50 blend of Tempranillo and Grenache.  As you can see, this year the blend favors Grenache, with nearly equal measures of Tempranillo and Mourvedre plus a splash of Viognier.  Very exciting!  I can’t wait to try a bottle; the Muse Rosé is one of my favorite wines regardless of coloration.

The Angèle is a new one for Odisea, a white wine that focuses on Grenache Blanc as its primary varietal.  Odisea used the French Entave clone #141 for this particular wine.  I don’t know what that means exactly, but it makes me want to learn more about the possible Grenache Blanc varietals that exist.  Apparently it is the “fourth most common white wine grape in France,” if you believe Wikipedia.  Here is more information on this varietal, and more information on the wine that Odisea has made from it.  I have never tasted a Grenache Blanc wine, but I look forward to trying this one!

All three bottles are safely in my fridge at the moment, resting after what I assume was a hot journey north from California.  The corks look okay so I think these bottles made it to my safely.  I’ll have to open a bottle soon and find out for sure!

I took my wife to Canlis in Seattle for her birthday quite recently.  At dinner, I heard the sexiest thing anyone has ever told me:

“Are you in the industry?”

The sommelier asked me this question when I asked him whether they had the new Riedel Oregon Pinot Noir stemware yet.  I spotted a few Oregon Pinot glasses on another table, so I was a bit taken aback when he asked me, with complete sincerity, whether I was a wine professional.  I was tempted to say yes.  But I didn’t, and so we started talking about the merits of the glasses, why they’re indicative of how Oregon has arrived internationally, and so forth.  Yes, this was my wife’s birthday dinner, but hey: Anything for this blog, right?

Actually, we had a great time.  Sort of.  It was a really bizarre place to eat dinner, to be honest, but not because of the staff or the food.  More on that in a minute.

I got excited when, earlier that day, I read the Canlis wine list online and saw something interesting: a half-bottle of 2000 Domaine Drouhin Willamette Valley Pinot Noir.  Now, this is my wife’s favorite wine, from quite possibly her favorite vintage (1998 and 1999 are hard to ignore, though).  We had a bottle of 2000 Laurène once before with my wife’s family, which went over quite well with them (my wife’s mother described it as the third red wine she had ever enjoyed in her life).  I usually prefer to drink the Laurène Pinot Noir rather than the Willamette Valley (or Classique, as it is also called), but a 2000 is a 2000.  It’s hard to object when you know it’s going to be worthwhile, and it’s also a rare vintage at this point.  I had to look for a while to find a reasonably priced 2000 Laurène a couple of years ago; now, it’s all but gone from the gray market.

At $60 for a half-bottle, I was more than willing to place my order with the terrific sommelier.  Here are my notes on this wine:

• Aroma: Rich and dense yet straightforward and accessible; a tapestry of red and black cherry, black berries, dried hay, vanilla, and a hint of barnyard but in a good way.  Very, very enticing.
• Flavor: A beautifully restrained array of black cherry, oak and vanilla, smooth acidity and tannins, and a bit of smokiness and underbrush creep across your tongue.  Delicious.
• General impression: This wine is drinking quite well after several years in a half-bottle.  Truly a great wine from a wonderful vintage; I was excited to try this one and I’m glad I did!  Clearly I need to keep aging my younger Domaine Drouhin bottles.

The wine showed brilliantly; the sommelier was excited by my selection as he was an Oregon fan, so to speak.  Clearly, the wine was a winner.

Speaking of winners, Canlis was full of them.  The woman on the mobile phone who seemed genuinely shocked when the staff came and asked her to retire to the bar to complete her call.  The man wrestling with his friend over the check.  The entire family of late-middle-aged folks dutifully ignoring their father, sitting his wheelchair and trying to enjoy his ice cream.  And all the while, the Canlis waitstaff did a superlative job of remaining impenetrably professional as they flitted from one rich jackass to another.  Very amusing to watch.  Now I know why my father used to grumble about the “old codgers in that place” whenever, as a child with my parents, we’d drive by the restaurant.