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Categories: Wine, Delicious Whites, Glorious Reds, Other Wines, etc., Wine Class
Fair Day
It’s Fair time again, and we just cannot miss our Wilson County Fair. Can we still be modest and claim to have one of the best fairs in the state? Well, it’s true. I have been to many county and state fairs across the country, and I must say that the Wilson County Fair truly captures the essence of a traditional, old-timey fair. It has a fantastic array of competitions in all the traditional skills and crafts, well-turned-out livestock shows - -
- - and even a re-created, fully-populated settlers village called Fiddlers Grove.
The village features lots of period-dressed folks showing traditional crafts, such as the weavers.
There are also blacksmiths, soap makers, quilters, and lots of whooping and gunpowder smells coming from the mock battles that periodically erupt in the center of the village.
The WilCo Fair also has all the games and rides, music and fair food you could imagine. It is the one time of year many of us indulge in that good old fried, fried, fried and more fried stuff.
You can finish off your lunch of fried with some horse-made ice cream - -
- - and wander back through Fiddlers Grove to see a Civil War encampment, or even a long hunter’s camp. The long hunters of Tennessee were wild gents who made long-term, often solitary expeditions into the frontier during the 18th century. They were expert survivalists, brave explorers and knew a great deal about the flora and fauna of the Tennessee wilderness. The information they brought back to the colonies was essential to the eventual settlement of the state.
There are also plenty of demonstrations of early food production techniques, as with this sorghum molasses maker - -
And as older folks here know, sorghum is an absolutely essential topping on hot biscuits!
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Another more modern Tennessee essential is a good tractor. The Fair had these in spades: I have an unexplainable desire for a nice, big tractor, and I have never seen so many in one place! There must have been hundreds.
There were also plenty of animals on display, including a much more recent Tennessee phenomenon, the alpaca:
But for home-grown fun, who doesn’t want to see the pig races? Come on, is there anything funnier than little pigs running really fast??
After several hours of the Fair, it was time to go home and relax. However, once I noticed the fresh wild mushrooms in my kitchen (courtesy of my local market), I felt compelled to make some sort of wild mushroom tart that would satisfy the craving I had been experiencing ever since I first saw the trays of little forest beauties at the market. I did not work from a recipe, so I have nothing to share except the glorious recollection of the taste of that magical tart.
I gently sauteed the mushrooms in a bit of butter, and I added a pinch of fresh thyme and tarragon from the garden. I added a little cream, and then I figured it needed one more thing: a taste of cheese. Just not too much, or it would ruin the delicate taste of my mushrooms. What to use? Well, in one of those nicer touches of fate, I happened to have one precious sliver of Umbrian truffle cheese in the fridge. I grated the pungent sliver into the simmering, creamy mushrooms, and suddenly - - voila! I had the most incredible, perfumed delight you could imagine. I reverently poured the mixture into a waiting tart pan layered with puff pastry, cut a few more triangles of pastry for the top, placed it in the oven, and out came the most delicious mushroom tart I have ever tasted.
Despite the horrid condition of my kitchen “post-tart,” I quickly called Miss Pat to come over and share my delightful invention. When she heard “food” and “wine,” I don’t even think she remembered to bring her purse when she hopped in the car.
We sat on the patio and enjoyed a lovely French wine that, in another blessing of fate, just happened to be the perfect foil for the delicately-perfumed mushrooms. I love it when a day works out like this.
What will happen later in my stomach when the morning’s fried-fried-fried dukes it out with the mushrooms and wine is a story for another day.
A Time and a Season
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| Categories: Chickens, Food, Gardening, Tennessee, Critters, Glorious Reds, Wine, Nature-Outdoors 
To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace. . .
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, Old Testament
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The earth here is greening over, and the warm air is brimming with the sounds of songbirds and tiny frogs. Bright tulips are Monet splashes of color bobbing in the sunlight. Pink and white tree-blossoms shiver to the ground with each gust of wind, and wispy dandelion puffs float along looking for homes. In Jenotopia it is time to plant, and we spent last Saturday making preparations for the 2009 vegetable and herb gardens. The weather was beautiful, and like the few cirrus clouds that passed over, the day drifted by in a lovely kaleidoscope of images of my very favorite things:
Tiny chicks and spring flowers . . .
New Cayuga grape cuttings for planting . . .
Clematis buds waiting to break . . .
Lambs ear creeping along in the shade . . .
RT tilling the vegetable garden . . .
Hobie, sun-drunk while RT tilled the garden . . .
Beautiful Edna, iridescent black against the newly-green grass . . .
Crazy, bald Baby Mija stretching out to gather up every drop of sunlight . . .
Bantam girls pecking away in their new yard . . .
Fresh chives waiting to be added to dinner . . .
And when the work was finished, a lovely bottle of 2005 Domaine Magellan Grenache/Carignan . . .
I was looking for a Grenache blend this weekend (a GSM, specifically), and my local wine merchant suggested this absolute gem. Made in the south of France, this wine is grown without chemical fertilizers or pesticides, and uses no commercial yeast - - only what is naturally-occurring in the cellar. The result was a beautiful expression of the grapes: a vibrant mouthful of amazing red and black fruit tinged with a hint of anise; nice, balanced tannins and good acidity from the Grenache at the back end. I was so pleased to find this wine.
We finished our work (relatively) early on Saturday before relaxing into wine and dinner, and it was the perfect evening to grill out. While RT prefers his New York strip, I enjoyed tender morsels of locally-grown filet from our town butcher. What was not finished in the evening was wrapped and enjoyed Sunday afternoon as thinly-sliced filet sandwiches, cool and delicious as we enjoyed the last bits of warm weather before the impending cold front arrived.
Like so many other things in my life, spring here in Tennessee is always a surprise: from one hour to the next I really never know what I’m going to get, so I really must savor the sweet moments as they appear. When I sit inside later watching the cold rain, I will remember that sweetness with clarity, and if I close my eyes I will almost taste the deep deliciousness of red wine and smell the first wisteria blossoms in the air.
“For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath . . .”
Saturday in Suburbia
| Categories: Background, Chickens, Food, Gardening, Feed, Housing, Predators, Miscellaneous Stuff, Eggs, Dogs, Cat, Critters, Wine 
Another Saturday has come and gone on the Jenotopia suburban wanna-be-farm. The animals and I passed the day with a nice mix of work and play, so I thought I would share a slice of our typical weekend day.
My weekend day starts just before 6 a.m., when I groggily climb out of bed and prepare to feed the chickens. I am not a morning person, so this part of the day is sometimes a bit bumpy. Once I am awake, I am always glad to be up, though, as the mornings are beautiful here. This time when I came out of the house I was greeted by the sight of a small flock of Canada geese winging their way overhead.
By now the hens have heard me coming down the steps, and I hear their clucking and complaining (“Let us out!”). I’d better get to it! I quickly sweep up the run before their breakfast ~
~ and then I collect some scratch grains and grit (tiny gravel) to go with their gourmet breakfast of greens, fresh corn on the cob, chopped parsley, and broccoli.
After the chickens and dogs have been fed, it’s my time: I enjoy a double cappuccino on the patio as the sun comes up.
Suddenly I feel the tickle of whiskers on my elbow, followed by a small, wet lick: Thaney, my perpetual, obsessive Helper, reminds me she is here and available for whatever comes up . . . especially if I happen to bring a biscotti out to the patio.
Sometimes I will come back in and do some writing or work photos ~ but not yesterday! Instead I lingered over my coffee, enjoying the roses waving in the breeze and watching the chickens out in the back yard.
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The hens wander around in the morning sun, grazing on grass and picking bugs and worms out of the yard. On the weekends they will spend most of the day in the yard, munching and napping.
As I drink my coffee I look around and notice 500 things that need to be done. When my fidgeting gets unbearable I pull my boots on and get to work. This weekend I worked on weeding and finishing the stepping stones in the new herb garden.
RT and I also worked on finishing the tomato cages for the vegetable garden.
While we worked, the dogs ran around the field behind the house sniffing interesting things, chasing birds and digging mole hills, and rolling in mysterious substances.
Manny’s combination of age and tendency to get into mischief render him housebound these days; while I am outside I can hear him shouting at me from the window.
By now the sun is reaching its peak, and it’s getting a bit hot. The hens have been busy laying eggs during their play time; I collect eggs from the coop before they get too warm.
In early afternoon we work on other projects, like preparing the coop for really warm weather. I dreamed up a nice, secure screen door for the coop, and RT helped make it a reality.
When it’s time for a break, I sometimes sit in the grass and watch the chickens. They always come over to investigate, and sometimes they will sit around me and nap in the shade.
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As I return to my projects, I notice one of our local hawks checking out the hens ~
Girls, maybe it’s time to go back into the covered run!
The afternoon passes quickly, and some weekends we will fire up the grill and cook outside. Sometimes we do something fancy, and sometimes it will just be the nice simplicity of burgers ~
Or if I am feeling ambitious, I might make a souffle or something experimental ~
~ but no matter what we cook I will uncork a nice little wine (although the egg dishes will always call for something white, not red!).
After dinner we’ll let the hens back out, and I will walk the gardens with the dogs and my wine glass. We’ll survey the progress we made, and ~ hey, what’s that?
Yes, my neighbor is also a frustrated wanna-be farmer, and he is riding his beautifully-restored tractor up and down the street after dinner. I swirl my wine and envy his tractor.
The evening winds down, and the sun begins to set as we listen to a little Miles Davis on the patio. The hens quietly come in to roost and the dogs are nodding off, bellies full of whatever weekend feast we enjoyed. I will go to bed with aching weekend-warrior muscles, tired but happy after spending a day with herbs and chickens, dogs and tomatoes and juicy red wine.
It was a good day.
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Three-and-a-Half Minutes of Wine
What can you do in three-and-a-half minutes? In this amount of time you could:
* Watch seven commercials.
* Solve a Rubik’s Cube (I have high hopes for you).
* Make your arms look like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s with incline hammer curls and still have time to collapse afterward.
* Wait for dial-up to load this page (luckily just a distant, unhappy memory for me).
* Audition for and get booted from American Idol (and have a good, on-camera cry).
** You could also increase your wine appreciation by becoming an olfactory expert.
Science News reported on a 2006 study by Northwestern University showing that being exposed to single odors for as little as three-and-a-half minutes resulted in a certain amount of expertise in that odor ~ meaning that people were then able to differentiate different sub-types of the same odor. For wine lovers who are new to the field, this is an important step in being able to discern and remember similarities and differences between wines.
One of the most common complaints I get from new students and wine customers goes something like this: “You smell and taste that wine, and then you throw out all these descriptive words like jammy or earthy, stone fruit or cassis. I can’t smell/taste/discern the difference between these wines. I’m not tasting the flavors you describe. It just tastes like wine!”
My answer is always simply to practice. Practice smelling, practice tasting, practice noticing. This is not like algebra homework: practicing with wine should be a pleasure, an indulgence, a moment of ease (unless you are studying for your Master of Wine comprehensives, and then I imagine you would feel more of a psychotic meltdown sensation).
The next time you pour a glass of wine, take three-and-a-half minutes to pay attention. Swirl the wine around in the glass. Notice the color, and the way the light plays through the liquid. Take a deep sniff: don’t be afraid to get your nose in there and really smell! Close your eyes and think about what the wine smells like without any external distractions. Repeat this once or twice: do you get the same smells every time? At last, when your mouth is watering in anticipation, take a sip. Let the wine swirl around in your mouth, and notice the texture and the flavor. The rest flows like magic: if you repeat this noticing, you will begin to detect the subtleties of scent and flavor.
Your experience of wine will expand with every bottle you open and every glass you pour. It will deepen with every moment of noticing, and the dimensions of pleasure and appreciation you may encounter are limitless. Three-and-a-half minutes: this tiny investment of time is all it takes to begin unfolding your wine expertise.
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Wine: Where Do I Begin?
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.”
- Shunryu Suzuki
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Every so often a wine customer has come to me and said, “I would really love to learn about and enjoy wine, but right now I know nothing. Can you tell me where to begin?” I am shot through and through with bliss at the perfection of the beginner’s mind: all things are possible from here, all things wait to be experienced. I often end up spending a moment with my hand lightly caressing a bottle, happily considering all the pleasure that awaits the new wine lover on his or her journey ~ until I am brought back to the present by my beginner politely clearing his or her throat (“Let’s get to it, already!”).
“Where would you like to begin?” I sometimes ask. Who are you? Where have you been? What foods do you like? What is your lifestyle ~ traveling, artistic, active, rural, collegiate, technical, manual, literary? During the conversation that ensues, I begin to put together a picture of the person before me so that we can work on a wine direction that might best suit him or her.
All in all, though, it probably doesn’t really matter where you begin ~ only that you begin. Once you start your wine journey it takes on a life of its own, and if you let it, it will take care of you and direct you to places you never imagined.
Being a practical sap, though, I espouse a few tools and tricks that might help you along the way. First, the tools:
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Corkscrew
Before you drink the wine you have to be able to open the bottle, eh? There are hundreds of variations on the corkscrew, from the sublimely simple ~
~ to those so complicated you may need an engineering degree to use them.
What you ultimately use is more a matter of personal preference than inherently superior design of one over another. I personally prefer the simple waiter’s wine key, a time-tested device that fits neatly into pocket or purse so I am never crippled by the inability to enjoy wine at a moment’s notice. It is easy to use, and because it works on leverage it requires little physical strength. It also has the added benefit of the bottle opener, making it a very good general bartending tool for all those fun gatherings.
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Glassware
Oh, the debate of the wine glass. It rages ever hotter and brighter as new products come onto the scene, and I could write volumes on the relative merits of different styles, brands, and chemical compositions. But we’re keeping it simple here, so for the time being let’s just say we want to look for wine glasses that have generous bowls. The six-ounce antique jobbies from your Aunt Martha may be the best for the Thanksgiving table, but if you want to enjoy sniffing, swirling and possibly a bit of sloshing you might want to seek out something that gives your wine a little room to breathe. If you can get four ounces of wine swirling like a tiny tornado and still not run too close to the top edges of the glass, you’re doing all right. If you’re new to the wine thing, don’t get yourself all in a twist over red versus white wine glasses. Yet.
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The Wine
You have glass in hand, corkscrew at the ready ~ the only thing missing is the star of the show! Now what? That, my friends, is the question indeed. As I said, it ultimately does not really matter where you begin, only that you begin. Single-varietal wines (one grape used) will help you best understand the qualities of that grape, so that is the only suggestion I have for new tasters. Other than that, why not allow yourself to be led by your interests? That is usually a good clue on your search. Remember an article about a good Oregon Pinot Noir? Start there. Want to know what Miles was griping about in Sideways? Try a Merlot and decide for yourself whether or not he was right. Heard a friend rave about New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc? Why not try it? Remember a great Napa Cabernet Sauvignon you had on your honeymoon? Find out if it is available in your area. Your conclusions about your taste experience will guide you to your next find.
One other thing I will suggest is that you locate a good wine merchant in your area, and begin using the resources of that merchant to help you in your journey. The folks at these wine shops can sometimes turn out to be your best allies, turning you on to wines you may have never considered ~ and even giving you the inside scoop on what is going on in the wine industry. A good merchant will remember you and your tastes, and will help you build on your past experiences so that you make the most out of every dollar you spend on wine. A good merchant will also not pressure you into purchasing above your budget, but it is important to be very honest about what you wish to spend.
Gathering the right tools is the perfect way to set the stage for the beginning of your foray into the wonderful world of wine. Where you go from there is entirely up to you, but one thing is certain: the possibilities are endless.
Salut!
Are you one of the thousands who has an unnatural fascination/obsession with collecting corkscrews? If so, you might check out these sites.
Cooks Paraphernalia features a good article about selecting corkscrews.
For a fascinating array of unique antique Italian corkscrews, visit Italian Wine Merchant.
. . . And for the ultimate corkscrew site, check out Corkmaster Don Bull’s Virtual Corkscrew Museum.
Hmmm, maybe your fascination isn’t so strange after all!
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