The first time I hung out at Lincoln Street Art Park was a couple of days before Halloween last year on a crisp autumn evening. The park’s founders were throwing a dedication party to celebrate the completion of the project’s first phase. We ate, drank, listened to tunes, and hung out around a pallet fire while the Amtrak Wolverine Service sped past a mere thirty feet away and a dazzling sundown filled the sky with orange and pink. It was a good day.

Subsequent impromptu bonfires saw us toasting ham and cheese sandwiches in a hobo pie maker or bidding farewell to winter by burning dried-up Christmas trees while Charley Marcuse, also known as Detroit’s singing hot dog man at Comerica Park, presented a speech rousing enough to complement the 20 foot high column of flames.

Pallet fires and trains and interesting people are enough to make a place appealing. At Lincoln Street, there’s also the art, from murals that cover entire walls to small ink drawings on random cinder blocks. There are graffiti tags, metal sculptures, stencils, and stickers. A frequent sightseer with a keen eye will find something new every time they visit. It’s a unique place, so I figured that more people should know about it and have the kind of fun I was having. With this in mind, Gourmet Underground Detroit organized our first event of the year – a late April potluck brunch.

Those who were paying attention to the Facebook event page chatter would have thought that the potluck was going to be a meatfest. And it was: Bob Perye from Rouge Estate was on hand with his smoker and more pulled pork than we could eat. He came armed with four different homemade sauces to complement the tender pork. He was also serving decadent slices of pork wrapped pork wrapped in pork, aka “FrankenBacon”, provided by Tim Idzikowski of Detroit BBQ Company. John Schoeniger of Porktown was grilling sauerbraten sliders while sipping on a fine German weisse bier. And someone even brought a party pack of Cajun fried turkey wings from the nearby Turkey Grill. This place has been on my radar for a couple of years now, but the potluck was the first chance I’ve had to taste the wings. They did not disappoint.

Yes, there was an abundance of meat. But reflecting the diversity of Detroit, there was also plentiful vegetarian, vegan, and gluten free goodies. Assorted salads, pickles, savory tarts, guacamole, and sweets helped balance the spread. Everything was good, and I personally loved a simple cilantro, lime, and chickpea salad that spoke the language of a warm and sunny spring day in Detroit. Thanks to the generosity of Green Safe, there was no shortage of earth-friendly, compostable cups, plates, and utensils.

As with any Gourmet Underground event, the libations were flowing. Evan Hansen revised a punch recipe to allow for single servings over ice that included three bottles of overproof rum. Assorted beer and wine was being poured from the tables, under the tables, around the tables. Towards the end of the day, the few of us that were still around and not wanting to let the day go were sipping Motor City Brewing Works hard cider with a float of corn liquor infused blueberries. Nobody went thirsty.

Lincoln Street Art Park won’t be mistaken for a typical suburban tract with plastic playground equipment and an acre or two of manicured lawn. Some rubble from the building that once stood on the lot still remains. A nearby hydrant has been leaking for so long that a small wetland habitat is growing around it and a sandpiper, typically a shoreline wading bird, has adapted to make Lincoln Street its home. It is the decaying Detroit that most of us know. But when the park is filled with the sounds of mirth, it is a Detroit that’s as alive as it ever was.

While we were cleaning up for the day and polishing off the last of that “City Billy hard cider spritzer,” Matt Naimi, in a moment of booze-fueled insight, best described Lincoln Street. He said, “we’re all just kids, and this is a great place to play.”

We dig Lincoln Street Art Park, and you should too. Show your love by voting for their proposed graffiti-style street art gallery in the Let’s Save Michigan Placemaking Contest.

We’ll see you at the 3rd Annual Belle Isle Potluck Picnic on Saturday, June 23.

RECIPES

Cilantro, lime, and chickpea salad

One 15-oz can chickpeas (2 cups cooked), drained and rinsed

2 cups spinach
1/4 cup sweet onion, chopped finely
Juice from 1.5 limes
3/4 cup fresh Cilantro
1/2 tsp sugar (or to taste)
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 garlic clove
1 tsp extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp kosher salt + ground pepper

Directions:

In a food processor, add the spinach and pulse a few times until chopped very small. Add the processed spinach, drained chickpeas, and chopped onion into a large bowl.

In the food processor (no need to rinse the bowl!), add the lime juice, cilantro, mustard, sugar, garlic, cumin, and oil. Process until smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Pour the dressing on top of the spinach chickpea mixture and stir well. Add salt and pepper to taste. Let stand for about 10 minutes to let the flavors develop.

Bombay Government Punch (Hansen Remix)

3 bottles of Wray & Nephew overproof rum
3.5 quarts of cold-brewed Darjeeling tea
18 oz lime juice
16 oz demerara simple syrup
2 oz ginger syrup

Ideally, it’d be served on a block of ice so it slowly dilutes, and it’d go from being a bit too boozy and sweet to being pretty much perfect. But it was damn fine poured as single servings over ice.

Still, since those emails generally involve a lot of self-aggrandizing, they’re often worth a chuckle or two. What follows may be a real email, or it may be us parodying an email.

What do you think of the text below: Real or Fake?

Todd,

More info below but Mako Vodka, a new vodka to the Detroit area, has a slew of beach-themed cocktails that I thought could work for a Memorial Day cocktail piece. I have drink images to go along with these and can send along a sample of Mako (it recently won a Gold Medal from the Beverage Testing Institute).

I know there are a 101 vodkas out there, but Mako is less about the crazy flavors and more about a mindset. The brand, which is named after the Mako Shark, is trying to cut through the clutter by reaching out to those who are into the nautical lifestyle whether that is boating, sailing, deep sea fishing, etc.

If Memorial Day weekend doesn’t work, there’s always Shark Week (everyone’s favorite cocktail occasion, maybe not quite yet, but it should be), Shark Week airs in July.

Thanks,
Courtney

Fun facts about the Mako Shark:

• Fastest shark in the water. A Mako can swim up to 60 mph when on the hunt.
• Nickname: “The Cheetah of the Sea.”
• Extremely adaptable. Can live in warm, cold, shallow or deep water.
• Slightly famous. The Short Fin Mako was featured in Hemingway’s “Old Man and the Sea.”
• Cool trick. A Mako will leap out of the water. Scientists are befuddled at why they do this. We think they want to check out the scene.

Fun Facts about Mako Vodka:

• The Mako shark may like all types of water, but Mako Vodka uses only pure natural iron-free limestone spring water.
• At 75ft, our stills are about the size of 8 Mako sharks lined up from head to fin. Mako Vodka is five-times distilled for exceptional purity.
• We add oven-dried, medium-roasted malted barley to our mash bill. Sure a Mako shark wouldn’t go for barley, but our fans love the taste.
• We’re also slightly famous. Mako Vodka was awarded a 93 rating, gold medal from the Beverage Testing Institute.

Summer Cocktails

Mako® Shark-in-the-Water Martini
1 part Mako Vodka
1/2 part Blue Curacao
1 part Sweet & Sour (or Fresh Lemon Juice)
Splash Cranberry Juice
Combine in a shaker with ice. Shake and strain. Garnish with lime wedge.

Mako® Raspberry Sharkbite Martini
1 part Mako Vodka
1 part Chambord Black Raspberry Liqueur
1 part Sweet & Sour (or Fresh Lemon Juice)
Combine in a shaker with ice. Shake and strain. Garnish with lime wedge.

Mako® Blue Ocean
1 part Mako Vodka
1 part Blue Curacao
1 part Pineapple Juice
1 part Cranberry Juice
Combine in a glass with ice and stir. Garnish with lime wedge.

Mako® Harborside Chiller
1 part Mako Vodka
1 part Peach Schnapps
1 part Lemonade (or Sweet & Sour)
1 part Cranberry Juice
Splash Club Soda (optional)
Combine in a glass with ice. Top with Club Soda, if desired. Garnish with lime wedge.

Again, my favorite was an Old Forester product, their Birthday Bourbon.

The line up this time was, in order, Four Roses Single Barrel, Angel’s Envy, Jefferson’s, Woodford Reserve, the B-day Bourbon, and Elijah Craig 18 Year.

Elijah Craig seemed to win the tasters’ hearts overall, with a sort of supple, billowy mouthfeel and fat, rich, mildly oaky flavor. It was definitely in my top three, but I found the Old Forester superior in that its smoothness felt a bit less forced, its oak less obvious. On my very first sip, I thought it had a nice woody, almost mineral note, but the more I drank it, the more fruity and full it became.

The Four Roses felt a bit manipulated and obvious, but I have to say, I liked it. Despite any vanilla, which I presume to come from the barrel, there was a clear malty fruit quality that I rather enjoyed. The Jefferson’s I liked more as I diluted it over the tasting. Initially kind of lean and intense compared to the others, it softened with water. Woodford was spicier than I would have thought undiluted, but when I added water, an odd sort of bitter off-flavor emerged. Angel’s Envy was, regardless of dilution, my least favorite. Keeping in mind that I would very much drink the shit out of any of these six bourbons and that I am now, to some extent, just nit-picking, I found the Angel’s Envy to be far too soft, far too fruity, and far too artificial tasting. Layers of artificial, bubble gum-ish flavors, very soft. Not my cup of tea. Or bourbon.

All of these were great bourbons, and I’m pleased to have been there. But for the second tasting in a row, Old Forester is bringing the pain to its competitors at an assortment of prices.

Barkeep, I’ll have another Birthday Bourbon.

Cocktail nerds hobbyists, like any nerds hobbyists, tend to get a little obsessive: learning the newest trend, finding the latest ingredient, practicing every technique, and of course, hunting down rare things. Whether it’s an original Star Wars figurine from Kenner or a bottle of rum that’s nearly impossible to get, there’s definitely an appeal to finding and, in the case of cocktails, drinking from the holiest of holy grails.

The French liqueur known as Amer Picon is one of those sorts of things for cocktail lovers. Invented in the 1830s, the original Picon was a stiff drink at nearly 80 proof. According to Wikipedia, at least, that changed in the 1870s, and the version that came to be popular in American cocktails around the turn of the century through Prohibition was closer to 25 or 26% abv. Indeed, you can find bottles up for auction or for sale from the WWII era at 26%. In that form, it came to be used in several classics, most notably Picon Punch, the Brooklyn, and the Liberal. Its unique bitter orange flavor was more or less lost to history when the company that produces it changed the recipe again in the late 20th century, eventually bringing it down to 18% abv.

And oh yeah, one other tiny detail: It’s hasn’t been imported to the United States in a long, long time.

Two weeks ago, fate smiled on me when Jeremy, a long-time reader of what is now the Sugar House’s blog, generously elected to share, among other things, two bottles of Picon. He managed to acquire from overseas Picon Club and Picon Biere, the two contemporary Picon products, both of which are commercially available in France and England.

So I found myself in the middle of a pretty awesome tasting of bitter liqueurs from around the world, and I took some notes:

Suze
Unrelated to the other liqueurs, this was an addition to the tasting notable both for its relative rarity and its unique, gentian-heavy flavor. As I later learned, Suze was originally 32% abv with a very little sugar. The bottling we tried was 15% with 200g of sugar per bottle, so much like the Picon, its recipe has changed quite a bit over time, and it even varies between Switzerland and other European markets. This version has a very distinct flavor: While gentian bitterness is a potent force in the overall taste, there’s an unusual combination of dirty earthiness and a sharp menthol flavor. Most unusual. It’s quite striking all around, starting with its intense yellow color.

Picon Biere
As promised, this is a distinctly orange, distinctly bitter liqueur. I expected it to be a bit sweeter than it was; indeed, it’s a surprisingly bright in terms of flavor. Despite the low alcohol, it still asserts itself appropriately, which is important considering its primary purpose – being added to wheat beer or cheap Euro lager to add flavor and finish. Easy, easy drinking.

Picon Club
Rather than being an addition to beer, the newer product Picon Club is designed for use with cocktails or wines. It’s darker and stronger not in alcohol but in color and flavor. Primarily, there’s a burnt caramel flavor with heavy orange peel, and there’s a sort of fruity coffee undertone. Downright delicious.

Torani Amer (and a homemade Amer Picon replacement)
One of the alleged replacements for Picon has been Torani Amer, an American product bottled at a much higher proof. While the added alcohol has some advantages, this was weakly flavored, thin, boozy, and boringly bitter (one note) compared to the actual Picons. There was practically no orange flavor at all. By comparison, Jeremy’s homemade Amer Picon, which follows a recipe outlined by bartender Jamie Boudreau, was distinctly far more balanced with more fruit flavor. That said, while the homemade replacement had the heft and power that’s allegedly closer to older Picon recipes, the modern day Picons were, I think, the most clearly influenced by orange.

Cio Ciaro
This Italian amaro is often cited among the best possible replacements for Picon commercially available in the United States. Tasted alone, I’ve always found it remarkable how much orange flavor shows through the sugar and bitterness. Tasted next to the Picons, it’s still delicious but is barely tinged with orange. Definitely a great product, and it absolutely works in drinks like a Brooklyn, but it’s not even close to a direct replacement.

My sincere thanks to Jeremy as well as Dave and Chuck from the Sugar House for letting me participate so I could enjoy these liqueurs and share my notes.

This week there are an unusually large number of new wines at Slows.

Gone, for now, are:

Ulacia Txakolina,
Verasol MCS,
Montsarra Cava,
Domaine Sonoma Cabernet Sauvignon
Dr. Thanisch Riesling (“Sofia’s”)

New Items:

NV Lini 910 Lambrusco Rosé
2010 Thomas-Labaille Sancerre, Chavignol, Les Monts Damnés
2009 Didier Montchovet Bourgogne Grand Ordinaire
2008 Eugen Wehrheim Riesling Kabinett, Niersteiner Oelberg
2009 Vieux Chene, VdP Vaucluse, Cuvee de la Dame Vieille

LAMBRUSCO

The Lambrusco label will look familiar to most of you. Last year we carried a similar wine from the same producer, their “Rosso.”

This so-called Rosé is fairly dark in color. Think of it as a very light colored red. And while grouping wines into broad, visibly evident categories – Like “Rosé Wines” – is easy and quick, that approach will help explain conformist wines better than distinctive ones. In other words, we are right to prefer the renegade over the predictable. So before considering Lini’s Rosé you might want to forget what you know about pink wine.

Lambrusco is a grape variety associated with the Italian province of Emilia and the culturally rich city of Bologna. It is commonly equated with a sweet factory made drink sold under the Riunite brand. (“Riunite on Ice, So Nice.”) This, however, is quite a bit different. It’s dry, for one thing, and the wine-growing is on a smaller and slower scale. It is less processed.

Is it sparkling? Yes. To be more specific, it is frizzante, which means it has about half the gas of a Champagne-method wine.

The Lini family established their winery in 1910, hence the name.

A 5 oz. coupe holds about 4 oz. and it costs $7. A bottle is a sensational value at $28 and it is the easiest thing in the world to drink – not boozy, tannic or heavy – in fact the opposite.

It tastes delicious. It will not clash with any of our foods, so in one sense it will pair well with any of them. However, I think this is less of a food companion than it is a pure drinker, before a meal, after a shift, whenever drinking will be done.

SANCERRE

Sancerre is a French region in the upper Loire valley. White Sancerre is always 100% Sauvignon Blanc. Within Sancerre, the town of Chavignol is known to produce particularly ripe and sturdy wines. And there is one more distinction to mention, the vineyard: Les Monts Damnés. (Damnation Mountain)

Les Monts Damnés is a unique slope in Chavignol. It is aimed and curved toward the south in a way that amplifies the sun’s rays making for a unique ripening of the grapes. Here are photos of it: http://jimsloire.blogspot.com/2012/04/sancerre-monts-damnes-views.html

Kimmeridgian Marl makes up the soils in Burgundy, Champagne and Chavignol and it is the greatest dirt in the world!: http://www.winegeeks.com/articles/139

This is truly a rare find. I would be shocked if this were offered by the glass anywhere else in Michigan, or even in the Midwest. Slows sells a 5 oz. pour for $11, a bottle for $44. The only other restaurant I could find selling it in the country is in North Carolina where it is sold by the bottle for $52.

How does it taste? Rather like a Chablis-Sancerre hybrid of sorts. It is racy and scented of diverse fruits and plants: apples, citrus, apricot, dandelion stems, stone, and clover. It combines richness, persistence and precise detail in a unique way. By contrast, brand name Sauvignon Blanc wines from New Zealand will taste noticeably more herbaceous and of grapefruit, and cloying, with alcohols out of whack. Other wines from Sancerre are leaner and more ephemeral than this. This bottle can develop and reward patience as it ages.

Your takeaway: While this is indeed “a Sauvignon Blanc,” selling it as such would be wildly short of the mark. This is a classic Les Monts Damnés, a great Sancerre, and if it can even be considered representative of Sauvignon Blanc, this is one of its greatest expressions found on earth.

This will pair well with the Slows cheese trio – mac, hoffmans, and enchiladas. Also it will complement blackened catfish, rare salmon, and the various chicken based items – wings, yardbird, strut, breast.

BGO – BOURGOGNE GRAND ORDINAIRE

Everyone knows Red Burgundy – or Bourgogne Rouge – is made from Pinot Noir. But there are two exceptions: Passetoutgrains, which is typically a blend of Gamay and Pinot Noir, and Bourgogne Grand Ordinaire. In this case we are drinking a wine made from Gamay. Gamay, incidentally, is the grape that makes Beaujolais in its region just to the south.

This is a good example of strictly “Natural Wine.” The grapes are certified biodynamic and almost nothing was added to the wine during fermentation and aging. The idea is to capture the whole taste of the fruit and the vineyard. And indeed, this is a charming bundle of Gamay goodness, tempered with a bit of bottle age. It is light bodied, dry and berryish on the palate. And as its fruit-flavored baby fat has worn away over time, there is emerging a distinctive earthy flavor that might remind you of Agave (see Mescal and Tequila.) This comes from the whole pulpy mess of fruit and the diverse microbes that get the fermentation going after the grapes are picked. In a perfect world I’d like to see this served a bit cooler than room temperature. Ice-bathe the bottle for 3-5 minutes if you want to see what I mean.

Consider allowing someone asking for “Pinot Noir” to taste this (and with an additional sample of the Rayos Uva Rioja they will know the two best and very different alternatives.)

Pair this with pork in all its forms, but especially in the form of a Reason sandwich.

$8 / $32

OIL MOUNTAIN RIESLING

This Riesling has been seen on our list twice before. It is from a single vineyard in the German region of Rheinhessen and it is off-dry, semi-sweet, fruity – whatever you want to call it. The reason it’s sweet is that Riesling, and wines from this far north in general, tend to have so much natural acidity that residual fruit sugar is an important balancing element to the flavors. The Oelberg (Oil Mountain) vineyard is in the township of Nierstein, and it is one of the few esteemed vineyard sites in the Rheinhessen.

The best way to experience Riesling is to concentrate on the aromas. There is really a lot going on in there. Smell it for at least a minute before you even take a taste. Red apples, preserved lemons, flinty mineral and stone sensations, and all of it is fairly intense and organized.

This wine certainly can pair with fish and chicken, but there is one unorthodox pairing that I like even better: brisket. There is a groomed classic personality to both the wine and the meat that speak to each other. The meat does not “overwhelm” the wine, or at least not completely. Consider having that with a side of green beans and potato salad or sweet mash.

Still $7 / $28

RHONE

Vieux Chene (Old Oak) is an estate in the hills that join the Rhone Valley to Provence in southern France. This is from a certified organic farm.

It is made with Grenache from very old vines (old vines produce more concentrated and complex wine) and younger plantings of Syrah, Mourvedre, Cinsault and Merlot. This is a perfectly ripe, dry and drinkable every day red wine. It’s lack of pretense and complication is in direct proportion to its charm, good flavor and utility.

This will pair well and complement virtually everything on the menu. Vieux Chene rocks.

Medium-bodied. $6 / $24 … another astonishing bargain

http://www.bouche-duvieuxchene.com/wines/fiande2.htm

WHITE PORT

I’ve become a little obsessed with our Ferreira White Port. As a concept, White Port has a few knocks against it. 1) It is not an antique tradition – the first white port was bottled sometime in the past 100 years, and there is little coherence to the various styles that would exemplify it. 2) It is an obscure subset of an already niche wine, that being the standard ports, ruby and tawny, made with red grapes. And 3) There are some expectedly shoddy “white port” knockoffs made in the central valley of California which tend to appear in liquor stores in poor neighborhoods – a perfectly legitimate if quick and cheap alcohol high.

This wine however is worth some serious consideration and reflection. Comparisons to good Sherry and Madeira are warranted. All have a certain nutty aroma that does indeed invite pairing them with roasted almonds. All are fortified – meaning the natural sugar in the grapes was preserved by halting fermentation by way of an added dose of neutral grape spirits. So it’s strong and a bit sweet. But so, …, balanced. This has aromas and scents of baked apples, peppered candied lemons, fresh figs, hazelnuts, apricots, and rainier cherries.

This is typically thought of as an aperitif (moreso in France) or digestif (moreso in England) but I had a hunch that this would actually pair well with a JP’s revenge. So on Friday I sat at table 209 and tested my theory. It was the wine and sandwich equivalent of bacon on a Chuck Norris, or to name a sanctioned classic, Sauternes and Fois Gras. Two incredibly rich and succulent flavors brought together to amplify and complement the other. And in spite of the decadent flavors, it actually made a rejuvenating meal.

That’s plenty to think about for now. Please call, write or see me to offer your insights or to pose questions.

Thanks for reading,

Putnam

Context is everything. A word so over-utilized can only derive meaning from a group of people with a shared understanding of its meaning. It’s probably, then, the case that people who appreciate cuisine and its place in the world also can appreciate some elements of its history and even its lexicon.

Much like food and drink, language focuses a powerful lens on the unique aspects of a given culture. So it should be of little surprise that gourmet, one of our most enduring terms for describing those of discerning taste, is derived from French. It seems suitable that a country capable of producing burgundy and inventing Bearnaise should have coined a term for appreciation of delicacies that’s lasted almost 200 years and across languages.

Perhaps the most well-known gourmet since the term came into popular usage was Jean Brillat-Savarin. His 1825 book The Physiology of Taste is widely regarded as the archetype for the contemporary food essay. Written in French and later widely translated, it was released only five years after the earliest use of the term in English as cited by the Oxford English Dictionary (OED).

Among his numerous opinions, Brillat-Savarin comes to the conclusion that “Those persons who suffer from indigestion, or who become drunk, are utterly ignorant of the true principles of eating and drinking.”

He’s drawing the distinction between gourmand and gourmet, between those who over-eat and those who enjoy quality. Interestingly, the former is a much older term: The OED cites   an early written usage of gourmand in Vitae Patrum by English merchant William Caxton in 1495. While the two are often used interchangeably today, the two are, in fact, historically unrelated.

Derived from Old French words groumet and grommes meaning “manservant,” the term gourmet grew in Middle French to describe specifically the role of a wine valet, an attendant who understood the full range of wines’ properties. Such a servant was skilled, able to quite possibly discern a wine’s characteristics and origins from smell or taste.

While the OED hints that there may have been some earlier cross-pollination between Germanic languages and Old French, other sources are more confident in the connection. Some speculate that the root of the word groom, the Old English grōma (meaning a male child), was incorporated into the French language, initiating the evolution toward gourmet.

Of course, all that said, people were celebrating great food long before French aristocrats were training young men to sniff their wines for them.

Epicurus, the Greek philosopher, is the inspiration for English words epicure and, now, modestly clever combinations of words like “epicurious.” Today, Merriam-Webster defines an epicure as “one with sensitive or discriminating tastes,” a definition strikingly similar to that of a gourmet, though it also lists an archaic definition for one devoted to sensual pleasure.

It seems that this misconception of Epicurus as an unabashed hedonist emerged from something of a smear campaign against his name. While he is now widely acknowledged for having lived a modest life, his philosophy of simple, virtuous living leading to absence of pain or suffering was rooted in an atheistic worldview that eschewed an afterlife. Such thinking was clearly considered dangerous by many Christians throughout their own early history. Indeed, a derivation of his name came to be synonymous with heresy in early Christian cultures, and its earliest usages in English relate as much to religion as they do to food: Thomas Cooper, bishop of Winchester, lamented in his 1859 An admonition to the people of England that “The schoole of Epicure, and the Atheists, is mightily increased in these dayes.”

Still, throughout the 1600s and 1700s, his name was synonymous in some English-speaking circles with dainty, thoughtful consumption of delicious food, meaning that despite its confused origins, it pre-dates gourmet in its conveyance of this concept.

In the 20th century, though, there can be no doubt that “gourmet” came to symbolize all the finest things in the culinary realm. Even the magazine, Gourmet, that carried the term on its cover for seven decades is something of a metaphor for the word itself. When it debuted in 1941, Gourmet was the pinnacle of food magazines. While its primary competition was printed in black and white on newsprint with more modest recipes on its pages, Gourmet aimed to bring haute cuisine to its readers and itself embodied the spirit of the finer things, printed in color on glossier paper. Critics like James Beard reviewed restaurants in fashionable locales, and French cuisine was prominently featured.

But by the time the 90s came about, can anyone say that Gourmet carried itself  differently than any other magazine? Scanning the shelves at a book store, it blended in among the dozens of new periodicals. Instead, it was larger, denser, more serious publications that came to earn respect, like Gastronomica or The Art of Eating. While Ruth Reichl, editor for the last years at Gourmet, managed to feature spectacular writing (look no further than getting David Foster Wallace to write about lobsters), the image of the magazine became confused: It sat next to bubble gum on store shelves, and in an effort to capture younger readers content was no longer solely aimed at the white linen crowd. Conversely, in its earliest history, there was a clear audience: It was reserved for those who cared and, frankly, probably those who had the means to care.

It’s a decent parallel. Just as the Gourmet brand saw itself diluted in a sprawling, re-emergent American food culture, the term gourmet has ostensibly lost its value with every package of preservative-laden, gourmet-labeled product that came to grace grocery store shelves. If everything is gourmet, then nothing is.

That said, with 200 years of history behind it, there’s still a case to be made for gourmet as a valued part of our cultural dictionary. After all, in context, it still has meaning. And among people who do truly care about what they’re eating, it can retain that meaning, the one and the same about which Brillat-Savarin wrote 200 years ago. At the very least, I’m sure everyone can agree it’s more appealing and more appropriate than foodie.

Here are three new wines on our list, and I seriously adore all of them. So give credit to Tara for gettin’ em, and blame goes to me if you manage somehow to find fault with them. Item by item:

2010 Rioja, Rayos Uva. $9 / $36

Short version: this is our closest thing to the common notion of “Merlot.” Dark. Ripe, assertive fruit tannins. In terms of suggested fruits and spices, it is more linear than exotic. Considering the alternatives - at Slows now - this wine will also be the nearest thing to the common notion of “Pinot Noir.” (It’s like a Bugey Pinot with more density.) But please note, comparisons to warm weather Pinot Noir grown in fertile soils (i.e. from Santa Barbara, Willamette, and Marlborough) are much harder to make. This wine is not fat or pumped up with flavors of Jäger, bruised strawberries and cola.

The comparisons to Merlot and Pinot Noir are conveniently suggested by the biography of the winegrower. Olivier Rivière studied enology in the heartland of Merlot (Montagne St. Emilion, Bordeaux) and later worked at the great Burgundy estate of Domaine Leroy, famous for its biodynamic Pinot Noir vines.

Rayos Uva is 100% Tempranillo farmed organically and aged in large vats. It can be considered a Tinto, bottled younger than Crianza, Reserva or Gran Reserva. Oftentimes Rioja – particularly common Reserva – is associated with barrel-aged wines which can taste rather more of leather, vanillin, and tobacco. In this case by contrast, vat aging results in a wine more reminiscent of fresh fruit, ripe skins, and scented of minerals.

read more

2010 Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, La Quercia – $7 / $28

Look in any wine shop, or any list at an Italian restaurant. There are a LOT of wines bearing the appellation “Montepulciano d’Abruzzo.” (mōn-tā-pool-CHYA-nō : da-BROOTS-ō) In a crowded field of red wines competing for fickle consumer attention, common entries often exhibit signs of a winemaking arms race. There is ever more extraction, more alcohol, and more wood flavoring. While that aggressive style may indeed get attention, after exposure it can become tiring in a hurry.

La Quercia’s Montepulciano d’Abruzzo is different. Hand work, organic farming and minimal interventions have resulted in a wine that – while appropriately tannic and robust – leaves the palate refreshed and wanting more of its whole fruit and spice.

Let’s iron out a common point of confusion. This wine is made from the Montepulciano grape variety grown in the southern Italian region of Abruzzo. No problem there. However, there happens to be a more prestigious wine from the Tuscan town/comune also called Montepulciano, the best wines from which are called Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. The latter is made from a local clone of the Sangiovese variety, which is the variety grown in neighboring Chianti and Brunello. The most likely reason for the shared name is that once-upon-a-time farmers in Abruzzi idealized the wines from Montepulciano and so used the name to describe their own vines which best emulated it. Such borrowing of names is very common in wine history; you could even regard it as the rule rather than the exception. (See California Burgundy, Chablis, and Madeira)

The upshot is this: it is not necessarily specific enough to refer to this wine only as Montepulciano. More completely put: it is a Montepulciano d’Abruzzo. By the same token, asking for a “Pinot” could get you a cheap Italian white wine or a red wine from someplace like Oregon.

Short version: Montepulciano produces dark, tannic wines with a certain rustic edge. This sterling example is a good suggestion for someone looking for a “Malbec” or even a “Cabernet” (If the prices were reversed, and this were $9 while Domaine Sonoma Cabernet Sauvignon were $7, I would gladly drink the Montepulciano for the higher price. This is not to say that our Cabernet Sauvignon is not solidly above average for things called Cabernet Sauvignon. It is.)

http://www.enjoysmall.com/wines/Wine/montepulciano-dabruzzo-doc

2010 Macon Charnay, Domaine Jean Manciat $9 / $36

Short version: 100% Chardonnay, which should be assumed of all things White Burgundy. Slows carried this cuvée about five years ago. The intervening years have allowed these younger vines to accrue the benefits to wine-quality of age: deeper roots, harmonious micro cultures, and accumulated interactive experience with their farmer, Mr. Manciat.

Some context: The Macon region is the vast southernmost region of Burgundy. By nature, Macon white wines *should* be fatter and sweeter than comparably situated wines in the more northern Burgundy regions of the Cote d’Or (i.e. Chassagne Montrachet.) However, industrial farming and a collapsed market in the postwar period encouraged most farmers to produce thin, dilute and acidic wines. To some extent, especially with older wine drinkers, Macon is associated with this cheap type of Chardonnay, and it may even suit some wine drinkers. Jean Manciat’s Macon is one of a handful of notable exceptions to this old rule. In fact, with the perspective of a few decades, the Macon region is now a happy hunting ground for drinkers seeking distinctly delicious wines that wear very well on the palate, in an open bottle, and laid down in a cellar.

Serve cold, but enjoy it best at about 60 deg. F.

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Join us April 29th for a potluck brunch. Bring a dish to share, a few bottles of something to drink, and a chair to sit in if you wish. We’ll be making mirth from 12 – 5 p.m. and may even have a bonfire later in the evening if folks are still hanging out.

Take some time to explore the murals, sculpture, graffiti, and other forms of street art found on Lincoln Street (affectionately known as the Ghetto Louvre). A keen eye will find something in virtually every nook and cranny in the park and surrounding area, including the Recycle Here facility around the corner on Holden Street. It’s where creative talent inhabits the gritty landscape of post-industrial Detroit — truly a fascinating place.

Bring your friends, bring your kids, bring your friends’ kids, this potluck is open to  everyone that wants to come. Hope to see you.

Link to the facebook event page

That said, in our tasting, we only covered a somewhat random handful of whiskeys, so I was kind of excited when Dave at the Sugar House decided to host a bourbon tasting tonight.

Here’s what I wasn’t expecting: Old Forester 100 would be my favorite.

The line up of 6 total whiskeys was (in order) Four Roses, Buffalo Trace, Elijah Craig 12, Old Forester 100, Old Granddad Bonded, and Henry McKenna.

I tasted each straight and then tasted each with a bit of water as well (we were given one ounce pours), and I most admired the OF 100 for its round, balanced flavor and lack of any noticeable off flavors either straight or cut. (I shouldn’t have been surprised: I probably drank 8 ounces of the stuff last Saturday night.) None of the whiskeys were noticeably “bad,” though I was surprised that Buffalo Trace was my second least favorite (next to Elijah Craig). I was equally surprised that the Henry McKenna didn’t clearly assert itself as a top two or top three choice and that Elijah Craig 12 year was so grassy and flat. It just wasn’t as complete of a drink. Among the 80ish proof bourbons, Four Roses was the clear winner. Compared to the McKenna, a higher proof spirit, I think I preferred the Old Granddad.

For straight drinking, the OF 100 seems pretty unmatched in the price range. For mixing… Well, more experimentation will be required.

Blogging about eating or drinking some really exquisite, rare treat always feels funny to me. Mostly, I like to do it for the sake of aiding my memory, generally enfeebled by bourbon-pickled brain cells. And I like reading other people’s tasting notes too. But conversely, it feels a bit like bragging, which kind of sucks.

Despite that, I just had to write last night’s tasting notes down, both for posterity’s sake and for sharing. It’s a rare opportunity (for me, anyhow) to sit down with three good friends and drink five bottles of aged Bordeaux in great condition. Such an occasion requires some documenting, even if as the writer I’m the only one who ever bothers to read it.

We gathered in a cleaned out (sort of), empty cinder block building in Detroit, four of us with five wines, a small folding table, and a few chairs.

1979 Haut-Bages Liberal (Paulliac)
There are sensations, some hard to describe, unique to older wines. Initially quite musty, damp, and funky, the aromatics on this wine gave way to a lot more lively fruit. From the onset, it tasted fresh and alive with some grippy tannin in the finish; but as the evening wore on and we re-visited the wine two more times, light, fleshy fruit flavors dominated with a really bright, youthful acidity. Delightful stuff.

1978 Prieure-Lichine (Margaux)
Aromatically challenged to start, this might have evolved the most over the course of the evening. Early on, there was just a bit of soft fruit on the nose. Eventually, it became noticeably more menacing (in an exciting way) with darker, woodier notes. Tasted perfectly fine from the get go, albeit with a bit of a vegetal finish, but it got considerably more nuanced, meaty, and leathery as the evening wore on with a much more focused, almost minty quality at the end of each sip.

1981 Palmer (Margaux)
Steve commented during our first glass of this that he thought 1981 was a bit underrated, and based on our limited evidence, I think we all agreed. There was a big, distinctive cabernet sauvignon nose with just a bit of a gnarly, rustic edge to it. Immediately captivating. Definitely the weightiest, fullest, richest of our three oldest wines. Quite tannic but still fruity, acidic, and ripe. Killer wine worthy of the venerable name (and totally bad ass label).

1998 Gruaud Larose (St. Julien)
Disclaimer: I love this producer. It’s rustic, edgy, and funky, and I think it’s magnificent. I’ve had the good fortune of tasting some great vintages of this wine, and it’s never disappointed me. This was no exception. Dense and still young, though not so wound up as to seem premature to have opened it. As the evening wore on, the aroma showed more juicy, grapey, dark fruit qualities and finished with a sharp, savory characteristic.

1996 Leoville-Poyferré (St. Julien)
In a word, this was INTENSE. Still too young. All coiled up and restrained, just about ready to explode. This is on its way up to a glorious place. Toasty, woody aromatics. Soft tannins. Dark fruit and lively finish but still reserved. This just envelopes one’s entire palate and finishes with a subtle stony edge. It’s a big wine, but it was still quite elegant. Great drinking now, even better later.

I’d discussed with Steve in the past how it seems like there are just certain nights when everything clicks. This was one of those nights: Five older wines, each one alive and entirely spot on. We should have hit the casinos afterwards. (But instead we had beer, a decision with which I have no argument.)

Cellared wines are an entirely different beast from what’s typically available in the store, and despite the pretentiousness one could quite easily read into the cost and/or effort involved in drinking aged wines, anyone who were to spend time with bottles like these would comprehend and possibly participate in the obsession. A perfect night.