Make Sure to Have a Tasteful Holiday Season

From Doug Cress of supertastertest.com .... Do you have good taste? If you're looking for a unique and memorable gift for food lovers, wine aficionados, or curious kids, consider giving the Supertaster Test this holiday season. For a limited time, we're offering test kits at a discounted rate, with special holiday packaging. Follow this link for details: http://SupertasterTest.com/Gift Wishing you the best, Doug.

SupertasterTest.com/Gift Visit us for special discounts - this offer ends December 15th, 2010. Order now to ensure hoilday delivery.

For more info, check out my blogs about supertasters:

http://fuchsfoodie.blogspot.com/2010/07/research-subjects-line-up-for.html

http://fuchsfoodie.blogspot.com/2010/06/food-experiment-i-am-not-supertaster-or.html

http://fuchsfoodie.blogspot.com/2010/07/supertaster-test-strips-arrive-not-sure.html

http://fuchsfoodie.blogspot.com/2010/07/q-with-doug-cress-of-supertaster-test.html

Ukon Turmeric Root Good for Japanese Businessmen, Honky Tonk

Energy drinks – I’ve always liked them mean, green, and full of caffeine.  The balance of a notepad in one hand and a purple can of Venom Mojave Rattler in the other is essential to my on-the-job performance.  At meetings, I smile confidently while surveying my co-workers’ meek beverage choices of Deer Park and Powerade.  Just check out the fierce snake eye and strike-prone fangs on the side of the can – competitive edge, Fuchs!

And, after years of heart rate boosting, I thought I had a good handle on the liquid energy scene.  Red Bull is too old school – your grandma’s energy drink.  Monster’s trendy and overrated.  Then there’s the out-of-my-league heavyweight division, led by Ammo and Jolt. 

I eventually settled on Venom, “the piercing energy that strikes back.”  Indeed, it has more caffeine than Starbucks.  At the same time – and this was key – it doesn’t have enough juice to make you hallucinate that your hair is on fire.  As any true caffeine-lover will tell you, taste didn’t factor into the decision.

So, I had it all figured out, but this past weekend brought a game-changing discovery.

Marcy and I were driving around Nashville when we stumbled upon a little Asian supermarket.  Marcy yelled what she always yells when she sees an Asian supermarket: “Snacks!” – before grabbing the steering wheel away from me, swerving us onto the curb in front of the store and rolling out of the moving car.

As she placed bag after sodium-filled bag on the counter, my eyes ran across a six-pack of Ukon Energy Turmeric Extract Drink.

I purchased and sampled.  Initially, its flavor, for those who care about that kind of thing, had a certain Pepto Bismol je ne sais quoi, but it grew on me as I detected slightly sweet notes reminiscent of peanuts.  It’s only 30 calories per serving, and packs a punchy, hyper-focused high that makes it popular with Japanese businessmen as a hangover cure.  

But do any of these qualities really separate this elixir from the caffeine drink pack?  That’s just the point: Ukon Turmeric has absolutely zero caffeine! 

Still, somehow, the turmeric root alone gave me enough hop-in-my-step to go honky-tonking on Broadway into the wee hours of the night.  And this wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill honky-tonking – I was passionately singing along to Redneck Girl, Farmer’s Daughter and other songs that I don’t know the words to. 

If for only one night, I became a genuine honky.  Thanks Ukon.  Monster is the drink that gets televised, but you’re the revolution.

Top Cheffer Arnold Myint's Fusion Place in Nashville

I’m on my way to meet my friend Sarah for dinner at Suzy Wong’s House of Yum in Nashville. That’s when it sneaks up on me. It always does. I forget that I’m about to pass it until it’s right outside my car window: a humorless façade, guarded by eight muscular columns like a football defense in goal line formation. My chest gets a Four-Loko-like shot of mixed emotions: fondness, schmaltz, alarm. Mostly alarm.
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This is the building where I went to second grade through high school. I haven’t stepped foot inside since graduating fourteen years ago. Just like that, it’s in my rearview mirror – shadowy, ghostly, fading.
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I’m back in town for Thanksgiving, the time for family, great food, and avoiding the people I hung out with as a kid.
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Sarah and I are checking out Suzy Wong’s mostly because it’s a creation of Arnold Myint, the facial pore obsessed contestant from the most recent season of Top Chef in D.C.

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Conceptually, the décor is as studied as you’d expect from a guy who prepared for Top Chef by hiring a wardrobe stylist. The place is named after a 1960 William Holden movie about a Hong Kong prostitute, so a flatscreen plays old movies, the plates display pop-art, and a dragon painted on a kite plans a sneak-attack overhead.  Sultry shades of purple predominate.
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In my periphery, one of those shades is moving: our purple-clad waiter struts to the table, already in mid-greeting when we make eye contact, and I shuffle through thousands of new faces I’ve seen since graduation day, all the way back to Niche Sweeney, fellow alum / musical star of the class of 96.
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We exchange rumors about the old school and make plans to crash a third-grade room now taught by a former classmate. I quickly steer the discussion to Suzy Wong’s and Chef Myint. Niche, who says something about having known Arnold before he got the job, is information-rich on both topics. I learn that Arnold’s parents own International Market, a Nashville institution that introduced me to Thai food and single-handedly sustained my growth spurt ages 14-16.
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I proceed to eat enough Asian fusion that a follow-up spurt, this one in my early thirties, seems within the realm of possibility. None of the menu items at Wong’s are exotic, rather it’s unusual because it harmonizes what should be an oxymoron: comfort fusion food. The menu is divided between shared plates and Yum Bowls, the best of which are the Asian wonton nachos (queso blanco, edamame, cilantro pico, sriracha, and red curry) and the coconut chili fried brown rice with egg. These dishes, where Asian nations brush up against each other while mingling with familiar, pleasing concepts, are like my trips back to Nashville, and the city and childhood itself: comforting but, always and necessarily, in flux.
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Sarah's new bikini

Asian wonton nachos

Coconut chili rice

I take us on a different route back, but somehow end up driving past the beast again – this time, a back road on the edge of the school yard that once seemed as big as a pre-civilization savannah. It’s where I successfully dared Marshall Brandt to eat poison ivy, played two-on-two football afterschool to prepare for my inevitable pro career, and, later on, drank forties behind the drama trailer. I see it now as a patch of green overshadowed by the surrounding concrete.
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Back home in bed, I drift to sleep, as usual, with images of the interesting food I’ve had that day, when suddenly I see, not sushi rolls or crab rangoons, but a clear image of a kid, Asian and wrapped in a stylish black scarf, walking down the aisles of my school auditorium. Everyone is clapping – I’m snapped out of half-sleep as I realize: I went to high school with Arnold Myint!
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Apparently, a post-2 a.m. internet search to confirm my childhood acquaintance with a Top Cheffer isn’t eerie enough – I realize that the online article is authored by a Nashville Scene writer who, twenty years ago, was one of my afterschool counselors. I hated this guy, probably for no particular reason, but enough that I decided to peg him with a basketball one day, in the head, seemingly dead-set on earning myself a suspension – one week.
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I search for a yearbook, but, at some point or another, I’ve misplaced it, on purpose?

Ulka's Pani Puri

This past week, Ulka and Venu were gracious enough to invite us over for an Indian street food called pani puri: crispy fried spheres of bread filled with a mix of lentils and diced potatoes, chickpeas, chutney, and a minty liquid known as spice water. 

Don't even try pronouncing these things like they're spelled.  "Bani Buri!" corrected Ulka.  

I thought they were just as good as the ones at Masala Art.  Here are the pics:

King of the Jungle Wears the Serbian Crown in Great Falls

Lion: Second biggest cat after the tiger. Keystone predator. 50 mile-an-hour sprinter. Dinner.
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Simba has been the pride of the menu at Serbian Crown in Great Falls, Virginia, since Saturday night. That’s when the team at Rene Bertagna’s Russian restaurant cooked its first shipment of the year from an Illinois farm that legally raises lions in a free-range environment. Marcy and I drove down to Great Falls to check out the mane attraction.

When we arrived, our Serbian waitress, Miona, said that “just about everyone” at Serbian Crown has been ordering giganticat. The restaurant hasn’t been able to carry lion for four years due to limited availability, so longtime customers are happy to see they’ve clawed their way back onto the menu.

When lion gets high praise at Serbian Crown, you listen – Miona said many of the patrons are originally from Russia, where the populace has some experience dining on this exotic game.

The house tenderizes the meat and then prepares it as a carpaccio – sliced thin, dredged in wheat flour, grilled, and served with a wine sauce. The chef, a Russian, plates with scalloped potatoes and wild mushrooms before dusting on some oregano.

Marcy and I took our first bites and agreed that it was worthy of lionizing. The dish could have passed as a first rate veal piccata, though the coating of flour was thinner.

But what does lion really taste like? Sure, it dresses up nice for a night of fine dining. What about the morning after, sober, in the cold light of day? Miona agreed to bring us out another plate, this one minus the make-up.

Even without the sauce, the flavor of the lion closely resembled veal. By itself, the fact that we didn’t make or overhear any “like chicken” comments guaranteed that the night was a victory.

Later on, Rene told us that, years ago, back when Serbian Crown was located on Wisconsin Avenue in D.C., they used to welcome another intriguing guest to the dinner table: bear. He explained this particular plating is no longer legal because the bear population in the area has since become endangered.

Raising lion for consumption, on the other hand, is backed by findings of the International Union of Nature and the World Wildlife Fund. Since my last post on this topic, though, it’s come to my attention that some people view eating lion as “sick.” I’m still not sure why. No one I know is saying to kill Garfield and throw him on the Foreman. Actually, according to recent classifications of carnivora, the dog is a closer relative to the wolf than the domestic housecat is to the lion. A more liberal attitude seems appropriate, so clear your conscience and your dinner plans.

Other dishes this past weekend at Serbian Crown ...

Serbian salad

 lump crab remoulade with avocado

smoked eel

Korean Jambalaya at 7080 in Annandale

Fusion haters have their reasons.
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Fusion food is just a cheap trick to get white people to eat Asian food. It exalts novelty to the detriment of technique. Fusing is too confusing. It ruins regional traditions.
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Is there a grape-leaf wrapped rice grain of truth to these arguments? Maybe. But the reasoning is thinner than a miso-cilantro vinaigrette dressing.
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Take the common criticism that chefs who dare to unite international flavors take a Wusthof to proud culinary traditions just to profit from lame trends. All I can say is … so what? That’s exactly what artists do! Picasso mixed African art with Iberian sculpture. Hank Williams, gospel music and the blues. Tarantino, spaghetti western and Italian horror.
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We need new trends because sometimes, they’re so damn good, they become new traditions. Back off, culinary segregationists, and let me enjoy my intermixing: Guernica, rock n’ roll, Reservoir Dogs, and, yes, Korean jambalaya.
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Which brings me to two restaurants in a little shopping mall off Columbia Pike in Annandale. In a city known for old-school Korean food, DaMoim and 7080 both decorate with Beatles posters, hire waiters who speak more than ten words of English, and disregard the creaky old signs hanging on sentimental American dishes, that say, “Danger: Keep Kimchi Out.”
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7080's wall of fame: Beatles and Hendrix loom large in a sea of Korean musicians

7080 hangs up some old school Korean uniforms worn by kids back in the 80s 

For DaMoim, that means kimchi chili and Korean tacos as varied as a mariachi ensemble. For 7080, Korean meatballs and Korean fried chicken. And a jambalaya of kimchi, beans, tofu, spam, sausage, and scallions in a soupy broth spiked with chili paste.
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In other words, this is one jacked-up jambalaya. It’s one of the biggest challenges to my fusion-philia yet. Even if you accept the premise that potato starch and ham in a can is an okay substitute for homemade andouille sausage, 7080 leaves out the trinity of celery, peppers and onions that characterizes the Cajun and Creole versions.
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If you think that takes balls, check this out: there’s no rice! By rejecting rice, 7080 not only omits the most logical link between the two cultures they’re trying to merge, but they disregard the etymology of the word they’ve chosen: “balaya” most-likely derives from paella, which is a Spanish rice dish. Even plucky Italians don’t snub the long-grain without at least providing an analogy: the Italian version of jambalaya replaces rice with orzo.
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7080 almost entirely ignores the 150 year history of this Louisiana concoction. They might as well supplement the stock with a half-cup of extra-bitter Cajun tears.
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But I hope they don’t, because, as is, the flavor profile is just right. Whatever you want to call it – Korean stew, jambalaya, sucker-punch to every Creole or Cajun chef who ever lived – the taste and creativity of joining spam with kimchi and chili paste are hard to deny. We slurped our Korean jambalaya to the last spicy drop.

Christian goes to town on the jambalaya

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Sorry, jambalaya purists. Karma is a bitch. When they heard that New World chefs were cooking some weird dish with celery and tomatoes and calling it ham paella, early 19th century Spaniards must have been mad as hell, too.
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Of course, the ultimate celebration of fusing cultures took place after we finished our Korean feast, when we headed to the Korean karaoke bar and drank Coronas while butchering George Michael and 50 Cent. Like 50 himself, you either hate it or love it.

Strawberry Fields: Anja one-ups John Lennon

Wild Game Platter, Stalking Lion at Serbian Crown

For centuries, Russian czars kept hundreds of falconers, chasseurs and sighthounds on the royal payroll to hunt wild game like wolves, lion, bear, emu and boar.  Hunts across the desolate Russian steppes all the way to the Arctic Ocean sometimes lasted over a month.

Suddenly, the drive down to Serbian Crown restaurant in the backwoods country of Great Falls, Virginia, doesn’t seem so bad. 

For many, Great Falls Park is the main attraction of this D.C. bedroom community.  Personally, I'd vote for Serbian Crown, where owner Rene Bertagna lets you experience the Siberian exotica of Winter Palace with such dining options as caviar and Russian style mussels.  But if you really want to get rowdy like a czar, order the wild game pate followed by the wild game platter: emu, wild boar, antelope, venison, and, the king of the jungle himself, lion.

In anticipation of my trip to Great Falls, I enjoyed telling acquaintances that my weekend plans included a relaxing drive through the Virginia countryside to marvel at the changing leaves, on the way to a charming little eatery tucked off the main roads for the ultimate purpose of … devouring a lion.

I got two kinds of reactions: Why would you want to eat that?  Isn't that, like, illegal?

The first question reminds me of an anecdote.  When I was in college, I used to go to restaurants with a girl who ordered nothing but chicken sandwiches.  She even made a point of avoiding any eating establishments that dared omit the ever-exciting chicken sandwich from its cooking repertoire.  Tastebud boredom seemed to be a top priority for her. 

I think the much better question is, why would you want to eat that?

The answer to the second question is, clearly, no.  Neither the International Union of Nature nor the World Wildlife Fund recognizes the lion as an endangered species.  To be sold legally, lions just have to be farm-raised, and the production process needs to pass federal inspection.  Rene gets his jungle cats from Fallow Farms in Illinois.

Still, many protest the consumption of lion as unethical.  In 2008, when the South Philadelphia Tap Room started serving Simba, a zoo-like uproar forced Chef Michael Zulli to take it off his menu.  This public clawing strikes me as odd.  I suspect that many of the protesters have a bad case of culinary timidity – maybe, by claiming that adventurous eating is perverse, they feel more secure about their own food inhibitions?  They act like dinner with lion on the plate might as well be followed by a late night go at bestiality (which, in Great Falls, would actually be pretty convenient).

For these reasons, I pursued my mission to consume a lion at Serbian Crown without regret.  When I showed up, I discovered a snag in my plans: although lion scallopini does appear on the menu, they didn’t actually have any in stock.  Rene and our waiter, Moses, apologized.

“We have to wait for lion to get big before we get it,” Rene explained in a thick accent.  “But I call them for you right now.”

 I sat by the bar as Rene whipped out his cell, called Fallow Farms and ordered my Africat.  This Saturday night, I’ll be back to Serbian Crown for the lion’s share.

In the meantime, Lolly and I enjoyed a Serb-Russo-French feast.  (Rene’s homeland is Russia, but he is well traveled and has many culinary influences, including French and Italian parents.) 

Russian cuisine is as diverse as its geography is vast.  Lolly's zakuska was a showcase in the diversity of Russian peasant food: eggs, salted fish, pate, cured ham, and smoked mushrooms. 

The stuffed cabbage was pure comfort food: meaty cabbage in a salty broth. 

You need some comfort on the table when you’re about to take on a wild game platter.

Clockwise, from bottom center: emu, venison, wild boar, antelope

Each meat was sliced thin.  Wild game isn’t finished on grain like lamb and pork, so it’s less marbled – you don’t want a big hunk of these slightly tougher meats.  My first bite was the emu, a bird with supermodel specs: 6 feet tall, thin neck, long legs, known to go weeks without food.  It’s native to Australia but raised locally on a Virginia farm and sauced in a peppery remoulade. 

The antelope and venison are also presented in an appealing remoulade, but the star of the platter is the wild boar.  The ancestor of the domesticated pig is cooked sous vide in wine for two days straight, then roasted.  Steady, low heat for many hours breaks down the connective tissues, thereby tenderizing the meat.  Best of all, this Texas-farmed wild hog is lightly sauced so you get to enjoy the animal’s naturally sweet essence.

Wild game pate

We got to talking with our waiter, Moses, a professional painter who, with a fast draw of his iPhone like a Western six-shooter, showed us his online gallery.  Some of his works are landscapes, but most are incredibly lifelike, sparkling oil paintings of wine and rare liquors, a few of which hang in the restaurant.  We suggested that the wild game platter might serve as a worthy subject for future paintings.

“That’s what I will do next!” he said.

Now we're both waiting for the lion.

Zaytinya Announces An Ouzo Celebration

From Heather Freeman:

Zaytinya Announces An Ouzo Celebration

Washington, D.C. (November 13, 2010)—Zaytinya, José Andrés’ ThinkFoodGroup’s award-winning mezze restaurant at 701 9^th Street, NW, is pleased to announce a special four-day celebration of ouzo-inspired fun from November 18-21.  From the bar, guests can enjoy flights of three infused ouzos, each 1.5 ounce servings of plum, apricot and peach – all infused from fruits obtained from the Penn Quarter FRESHFARM market this past summer. This delicious flight is priced at $12.

Additionally, an “Icebox Apology” is also being created especially for this promotion. This tempting cocktail of red plum-infused ouzo with visne (sour cherry) nectar and fresh lemon juice is combined in a soda siphon which is then charged with CO2 and served in a short glass over ice with a fresh lemon twist and is also available for $12. The name of the drink is inspired by a poem by William Carlos Williams called “This is Just to Say.” The poem is a half hearted apology from a person who swipes and eats delicious plums from the refrigerator and leaves an almost snarky (in that he describes just how delicious they are) note as an apology for the naughty deed.

To accompany the celebration, Head Chef Mike Costa of Zaytinya has created several menu special that pair well with ouzo including Agorá Agróti Salata, a Farmer’s Market Salad with Honey-Ouzo Vinaigrette. Specials range in price from $6 to $12. Also featured is an ouzo-inspired dessert for $8 created by ThinkFoodGroup’s Pastry Chef Rick Billings, will also be featured Ouzo sabayon with crunchy apple and sorbet.

Ouzo is a clear, sweet anise-flavored liqueur from Greece. It is typically served before a meal as an aperitif and is often mixed with water which turns it white and opaque. Ouzo is cousin to other anise-flavored liqeuers from around the Mediterranean including France’s pastis, Lebabnon’s arak, Turkey’s raki, Italy’s sambuca and Spain’s anis.

Part of José Andrés’ ThinkFoodGroup, Zaytinya serves an extensive array of various mezze “little dishes” reflecting the rich regional diversity of classical and contemporary Greek, Turkish and Lebanese cuisine.  Open seven days a week. Zaytinya is located at 701 9^th St., NW, in the heart of the Penn Quarter.  For additional information call (202) 638-0800 or visit www.zaytinya.com.

New Antipasti Bar Says All the Right Things About Wagshal's

Recent studies show people decide if they like a new acquaintance just 10 minutes after meeting. But Italians already knew about that. Just consider their antipasti course. For centuries, Italian chefs have viewed antipasti like modern-day bachelors look at speed dating: a make-or-break first impression.
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So when Wagshal’s Delicatessen in Spring Valley introduced an entire bar of antipasti dishes a few weeks ago, it wasn't just another food station.  It was a defining statement about the store’s identity.
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Wagshal's Antipasti Bar
Open Saturdays 11 am - 5 pm,
Sundays 11 am - 4 pm
Want a part-time job?  Wagshal's is looking for a foodie to host the antipasti bar.

“We cater to foodies, and foodies want to impress their friends with amazing food,” says Brian Fuchs, Vice President of Operations. “It’s important for us to offer authentic ingredients that are top quality.” Another mantra at Wagshal’s: “simplicity and variety,” says Brian.
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The antipasti says it, too. Wagshal’s has spared no expense importing the best products, such as feta from Australia, tangy-hot pepperazzi from Peru, white sardines from Turkey, and Spain’s iberico de bellota pork.
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Brian Fuchs takes me behind the counter to show off the ogygenated, dark-red meat of iberico de bellota, a.k.a., the caviar of pork.  It's ripped with intramuscular fat.  Back in July 2009, Wagshal's became the first store in the U.S. to sell bellota pork.

Exotic ingredients help to correct a common misperception: that antipasti begins with kalamata and ends with manzanilla.
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“Thanks to the olive bar at Whole Foods,” says Brian, “Americans tend to think antipasti are a lot of olives, and maybe some cheese.” Dear “family-style” Italian restaurants: canned vegetables and limp salami don’t cut it, either.

Whole Foods' version of antipasti

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Antipasti – which date back to the appetizers served at Roman banquets – can include a diversity of cured meats, fish, and pickled vegetables. If it's on the table to start an Italian-themed dinner, and it goes great with a splash of olive or sunflower oil, you can probably call it an antipasto.
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Of course, the bar at Wagshal’s isn’t exactly a dinner table. But it's close, thanks to owner Bill Fuchs. He got the idea for the bar earlier this year while luxuriating in an antipasti spread at El Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid. Back in D.C., he directed his employees to design the bar to resemble the dining table in a European villa. The bar has thus been finished with an elegant chrome that casts an inviting reddish glow around the deli.
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The real color, though, comes from the food itself. Wagshal's Executive Chef Ann Marie James and her culinary assistant, Teresa Nocella, knew that antipasti spreads are judged just as much on appearance as taste. Mixed bell peppers and pepperazzi stimulate the eye like a tulip garden, but the Chefs also stagger bright foods with dark (for example, they alternate between deviled eggs with jamon, hunter green caper berry salad, bright caprese, and earthtone muffalatta). They play with contrasts in texture and size, too, juxtaposing caper-sized mozzarella balls with big, crisp black olives, and tender stuffed swordfish with pickled garlic.

Sardine salad

Deviled eggs with bellota jamon

Insalata caprese with tiny mozzarella balls

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My to-go box

Inspired by the estudious approach of Jose Andres’ ThinkFoodGroup, Chef James, a former accountant from Trinedad, and Chef Nocella, an extern finishing her studies at L’Academie de Cuisine, exhaustively researched ideas for the bar. They even road-tripped it to the Fancy Food Show in New York, where they scored such items as smoked EVOO and figs coated in brandy and chocolate. Every week, the Chefs spend Friday preparing the antipasti, only to reconvene at 8:30 a.m. the next day to continue cooking. That’s in addition to a range of other cooking responsibilities. “We could really be open 24/7,” James says. Nocella says she can’t imagine a harder-working chef than James.
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In January, Chef Nocella begins a three-month stint with a chef in Spain.  Want to be the new face of the antipasti bar?

In the kitchen, Executive Chef James prepares stuffed swordfish

Porchetta: crispy skin and savory, fatty meat laced with spices

All that sweat is paying off in compliments from customers, not to mention the bosses. “I’ve lived in D.C. my whole life, and I’ve never seen anything like this,” says Brian.
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This past weekend, I met a customer who has. As we salivated over the antipasti bar, he told me that, while in Tuscany, he hired a local chef to prepare food for his family. “It looked just like this.”

Wagshal's Looking for Part-time Chef to Host Antipasti Bar

From Wagshal's -

Company info/intro: In operation for more than 85 years, Wagshal's is Washington DC's premier delicatessen and gourmet market. We provide our customers with the finest quality ingredients and service available, from preparing sandwiches, to catering elegant events.  Wagshal’s also imports products from around the world and distributes nationwide.
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Job qualifications:  We are seeking a part time person to host our new Anti pasti program on the weekends.  No late hours, the bar will open every Saturday and Sunday 11am to 4pm.   We are looking for a self starter, strong people person, welcoming smile and approach is a must.  Strong interaction skills will be demonstrated through sampling and sales techniques.  Very organized individual with cooking experience.  Formal training preferred.
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Daily duties will include but are not limited to:

·  food preparation

·  plating/refilling dishes

·  executing recipes and working with the chef to develop refinements

·  product knowledge

·  maintaining clean and appealing presentation

·  knowledge of cost and labor controls

·  packing products for retail sales

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Application process:  Applicants must submit a resume with a cover letter via email.  Candidates who do not submit a resume and cover letter will not be considered.  Please ensure contact information is accurate, as Wagshal’s will us that information to contact you for an in-person interview should your meet our qualifications.  Applicants who do not meet our qualifications will not be considered or contacted.Starting hourly rate:  up to $16.00 an hour depending on qualifications

Washington Wine and Cheese Seminar

 

This past Tuesday night, I had a blast at the Washington Wine and Cheese Seminar.  Tony Guida has been conducting the Seminar for more than 25 years.  The group meets every Tuesday night (except for the weeks of December 25^th and January 1^st) at St. Patrick’s Episcopal Church at 4700 Whitehaven Pky, between Foxhall Road and Macarthur Blvd.

To read about the wines served at previous sessions of the Seminar, visit the archive of past classes at
http://wwcs-archive.uuuq.com/.

To get weekly email updates about WWCS events, send an email to wwcs-subscribe@yahoogroups.com.

7:45:  I stroll into a big cafeteria crammed with gray-haired oenophiles chatting at ten round tables.  I catch up with a stern-looking woman speed-walking around the room and delivering bottles.  “Hey, I’m new,” I say.

She ignores me. 

“What do I do?”

“Grab a glass and sit down.”  She claws two more bottles with the gravity of a mother bird hunting worms for her young, and flies away. 

There will be no red carpet to match the wine tonight. 

I just hope I’ll fit in.  I’m among wine connoisseurs at the Washington Wine & Cheese Seminar, held every week at St. Patrick’s Episcopal Church in Northwest DC.  But my only wine-related talent is remembering right before I ring the doorbell at housewarming parties to peel the price-tag of my $9 bottle.  And, wine naivety aside, how am I going to get along with a crowd so well-aged?

7:55:  Lynne, the woman who provided my hero’s welcome, now stands at the front of the room.  “The theme of the night,” she announces to the crowd, “is Big Assed Reds.”

Her pre-game show covers tonight’s line-up of all-star wines.  The first three, Migliore, Milagro, and Meritage, come from a classic winery in the Sierra Foothills called Boeger.  As she describes the wines, the room becomes so quiet that I notice a faint scratching noise.  People are diligently taking notes.  I remind myself to hold my glass by the stem.

Next product to hit the market: wine energy drink?

Lynne talks about two more wines, both Zinfandels with intimidating names: Zinzilla and Zinister.  Their labels depict monsters with glowing eye-sockets.  There is reason for fear: “Alcohol content, 16 percent,” Lynne warns.

The crowd erupts.  “Yeah!” says a man behind me who appears to be in his 80s.  “That’s one big-assed red!” someone else shouts.  “As advertised!”  Easy there.  It’s Tuesday night.  Am I surrounded by grape scholars or wine-hat wearing alkies?

8:40: My concerns about fitting in have disappeared along with the contents of my third glass, and I’m fully engaged in a spirited debate about the best Boeger.  As my buzz gets stronger, I’m increasingly confident no one can tell I know nothing about wine.  

I find out that all three Boegers are actually mixes of three reds.  My favorite is the Milagro, which combines Tempranillo (61%), Graciano (34%), and Cabernet Sauvignon (5%), and has a really smooth finish.  It’s made in the traditional style of the Rioja region of Spain, which is known for an annual battle in which the locals shoot each other with wine-filled water pistols.   

“Oh it’s not nearly as good as the Meritage,” says John, a retiree from Virginia sitting to my right.  He’s referring to the Bourdeaux style blend with notes of black pepper, anise, peppermint, green bell pepper and vanilla.  I should trust his opinion.  He’s been coming to the Wine Seminar for a couple years.

“A couple years?” says Carson, another retired Virginian to my right.  “More like a couple decades!”

Given John’s 2-20 year tenure, he seems qualified to recommend me a strategy for learning about wine.  “Try about 300 wines,” he says.  I wonder about the timetable for this initial assignment.  “Then you got to subscribe to Wine Spectator magazine.  And here’s the most important thing: find a good wine store with a good wine mentor.”

For that role, I have my eye on Lynne, who judges wine competitions all over the country.  Having already kicked off the Seminar, she’s now free to enjoy the festivities.  She stops by the table, gives me a big hello and joins our debate about the best Boeger.  Actually, she has two opinions: personal preference, and the more objective, expert position she relies on for competitions.  By my count, the number of opinions at our table is now 322. 

9:30: We are into the high-octane Zins, and people are opening up.  John reveals his secret for a perceptive palate: “Don’t brush your teeth before you drink.” 

We go around the table naming our favorite Zins.  Right when it’s my turn, I unfortunately have to attend to my iPhone.

McNab Ridge, the winery in Mendocino County that makes Zinzilla, describes it as a “jammy monster that might color your teeth.”  It tastes of raspberries, chocolate, and spice.  Zinister is another McNab product: 80% Zinfandel, 20% Petite Sirah from Napoli Vineyard, and “seriously sinister.” 

Both Zins get unanimous approval from our table.  Whereas food tastes best on an empty stomach, I suspect a very different relationship between consuming and appreciating wine.

9:45: Carson and his wife Mary suddenly stand up.

“Where do you guys think you’re going?” I ask.

“We drank the wine, now we go,” says Carson, and the rest of table starts putting on their coats, too.  I’m told that what follows is a Wine Seminar tradition: bickering over who gets the leftover wine.  “Reid, what wine do you want?” asks Tom.

“I’d like the Bourdeaux.”

“Well, actually, I’m taking the Bourdeaux,” explains Tom.

Somehow I snag a quarter-bottle of Zinzilla and some asiago pressato.  Deserted, I decide to sit at another table.  Limited by blurry vision and shaky legs, I settle on the one right next to me.  The new table is happy to accept the intrusion, especially when they see the wine and cheese in my tote.

I get to talking with three women who are about my age – a guy I met earlier named Howard walks by and gives me a big smile and thumbs-up.  The girls know each other from a wine club.  “Well, actually it was a book club, but no one reads the books so we just sit around and drink wine.”

I wonder if everyone's had enough to drink.  One of the girls asks me, “Matt, do you have a hair growing into your brain?”  I stand up to go.  

10:15: As I’m walking back to my car, I run into Howard.  “Before I started coming here,” he says, “all I knew about wine was the Manischewitz I had before dinner every night.  I’ve learned a lot.  Maybe one day I’ll be a master.”

I don’t know about Howard, but I only have 295 wines to go.

Buy a Pie and Provide Meals for a Neighbor in Need

Lisa Shapiro at Dining in DC recently let me know about a great opportunity to help neighbors in need this Thanksgiving: Food & Friends' Slice of Life bake sale. 

For each gourmet pie you purchase, Food & Friends will provide a full day of meals to D.C., Maryland, and Virginia residents battling HIV/AIDS, cancer and other life-challenging illnesses.  The meals are specialized to meet the health needs of more than 2,800 clients served by Food & Friends.

Up until November 19, you can choose from the following flavors: Picture Perfect Pumpkin Pie ($25), Oh So Sweet Potato Pie ($25), Harvest Apple Crumb Pie ($25), Southern Pecan ($25) and Creamy Chocolate Cheesecake ($35).  All pies are 10 inch rounds and shrink-wrapped so you get the freshest, most delicious product possible.
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After you order, go get your pie on Tuesday, November 23 at one of 22 pick-up sites across the region.

This year and last, Lisa has organized a team called Food Bloggers for a Cause to support Food & Friends' efforts, and I just joined the team.  So don't delay!  Visit our team page and buy yourself some pies!