Tasting Notes: Sprecher Maibock

In celebration of the month of May, Pint and Fork is pleased to announce that it's Maibock season. Every week this month, a different Maibock will be reviewed. For the non-beer crowd, you should still stick around. There's an interesting IMBB event planned for May 19.

It's also asparagus aspirations month, which will give me a chance to hopefully learn some new preparations. Such as making sauce hollandaise for the first time.

Enough with the commercials already!

Maibock is a type of bock beer that's brewed in celebration of spring. Bock beers fall into the lager category, and are typically characterized by moderate bitterness and full malted flavor. You probably have seen beers with goats on the label. That's a bock.

The style has an interesting history, as is recounted in an amusing story in Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table. Apparently the German city of Einbeck became famous for its bocks in the middle of the fourteenth century. The Bavarians didn't like being outdone by the north Germans, so they sought to regain respect as brewers. Beer, you have to remember, was a staple of life, and was therefore a key trading commodity. Duke Ludwig X of Bavaria hired a brewmaster from northern Germany to set up shop in Munich. It was there that the first Bavarian bock beers were brewed. Over time, the Bavarians became known for producing bock beer to rival that in the north. This victory was hastened by Duke Maximilian I who invited Einbeck's head brewmaster to Bavaria only to detain him there. By 1614, the Hofbräuhaus was selling bock beer to the public.

Maibocks are often confused with hellesbocks. Although both styles have much in common, Maibocks are usually lighter in color and body than hellesbocks.

Prior to Prohibition, nearly every brewery in the US served a credible bock beer. So what better place to begin on my search for good Maibock than in America's great brewing city of Milwaukee?



The Sprecher Brewing Company has been churning out this fine brew as a spring seasonal since 1986, just one year after starting out. Since then, the beer won a bronze at the 2004 American Beer Festival. As a result of the brew's longevity and awards, I had high expectations for this pint of beer. Like all of Sprecher's beer, this beer came in a 16 ounce bottle.

A variety of aromas burst from the bottle as soon as it was cracked open. A strong malt and yeast profile was most prominent, reminding me almost of hefeweizen. There's a strong bread aroma in there, too, followed by a much fainter smell of grannysmith apples. This only makes sense since the brewers put some wheat into the malt.

The color appeared copper in the ambient light of my room, but I quickly saw that it's a very pale yellow when held against the scrutiny of direct light. Really, the color is very appealing. Ample carbonation raises a moderate head upon the pour. The head persisted for a few minutes and then receded to form a beautiful ring around the glass. No lacing was visible as the beer was consumed.

Unsurprisingly, this beer reminded me of a helles ("light lager") as it has a distinct liquid bread character to it. All of the flavors seem to be in that same family. There is yeast dancing on a stage of solid malt. There's also a very slight earthy taste to the beer that becomes more apparent as the beer warms up. The taste experience is very lengthy, and the flavors become more profound but fainter the longer you wait. At 6% abv, this beer is of authentic strength and is surprisingly easy to drink. A moderate dose of hopping comes through to provide a hit of bitterness. Although I'm horrible at hop analysis, the most prominent hop seems to be Mount Hood. In all, this beer is very well balanced and holds true to the Maibock style. My only criticism is that the hopping is a tad too severe for the style, as are many American craft brews.

Because of the extent of the hopping, it's not obvious what would partner well with the beer. Although hamburgers with onions, or meatballs would make for a tasty combination. The bitterness of the hops would hook onto the meat, while the bready character would mirror the taste of the bun. I think Mexican dishes that involve beans would be worth a try. The earthiness would correspond to that of epazote, while the hops would be a good partner for brighter flavors that many Mexican dishes have.

Sprecher's Maibock is an excellent interpretation of the Maibock style. Assertive and true to form.

Sugar High Friday: Liquer

I've been meaning to make a gelled sparkling wine dessert for some time now, but I hadn't really felt inspired. That all changed when I saw this months theme for Sugar High Friday, hosted by Lick the Spoon.

When I set about looking for a recipe, I was very disappointed by the results. A Google search revealed only one recipe, and that got poor reviews. (In the recipe's defense, most of the reviewers didn't actually follow the instructions correctly.) In any case, I decided that as a chemist I should be able to create my own recipe.

I opened up my trusty copy of On Food and Cooking and read that while a gelatin can be prepared with as little as 1% gelatin, a 3% gelatin solution is much more traditional and robust. Having a proper concentration in mind, I decided that I wanted to prepare two cups of dessert. I pulled out my balance and discovered that two cups of Asti weighed 450 g. Therefore, to prepare a 3% solution, I just take 0.03 and multiply it by 450 g to get 13.5 g. Since my balance doesn't read to that precision, I just rounded it up to an even 14 g. Having weighed out 14 g of gelatin (about 1.5 packets of Knox gelatin), I was all set.

I poured 3/4 cup of Asti into a heavy saucepan with 1/4 cup fined sugar (I fine sugar by grinding it thoroughly with my food processor, but a mortar and pestle would be even better). And yes I realize that I should give a mass here instead of a volume, but I was lazy and I forgot to measure it. I heated the liquid on my stove until the sugar was dissolved. I then added the 14 g of gelatin and mixed it in with a whisk. (The gelatin will clump, but you should be able to work them out with a whisk. I tried using a spoon and a spatula just for fun and neither of them were viable alternatives.) Following the manufacturer's instructions, I then let the gelatin solution cool to approximately room temperature. This would normally be what we call a "bad idea" because we're leaving a warm solution sit around for a long time, optimizing conditions for microbiological growth. If you boiled the solution first, though, this problem should have been obviated.

When the solution has cooled sufficiently, pour it back into the container with the remainder of the Asti. Use a whisk to gently mix. Then pour it into two chilled glasses so that the liquid runs down the side of the glass. Straight into the refrigerator with it and you should be all set.

The next day, I had a tasty gelatin waiting for me.

If you don't have a balance (otherwise known as a scale), don't fret. My sparkling wine had a density of about 0.95 g/mL. To find out how much gelatin you need, know that there are about 12 g in each packet of Knox gelatin. Know, however, that this density is dependent upon temperature, brand, how much carbonation has escaped, etc.

The bubbles were frozen in place, creating quite a beautiful presentation. My only complaint is that the gel was cloudy, leading me to wonder if the solution could be clarified some how.

...but how does it taste?

It's a very adult dessert, not only because it's alcoholic, but also because it feels very sophisticated. Having grown up on Jello, my mind was surprised to taste sparkling wine instead of, say, cherry. It's great fun to let to gel melt on the tongue, slowly releasing sparkling wine into the mouth. There may not be any carbonation, but the flavor that I enjoy was there in full force. The strength of the gelatin seemed to be appropriate, but maybe it was a little too much. Perhaps a 2% gelatin solution would produce a more delicate result.

Although the taste is good, I recommend using smaller size champagne flutes. I also wouldn't recommend using anything drier that brut sparkling wine, but it may take some trial and error to come up with an appropriate sweetness by adding more or less sugar.

As a caveat, the use of Knox gelatin or any gelatin derived from bovine products might carry a risk of BSE. Although the FDA has set strict standards for industry, they may not be enough.


Tagged with: SHF18 + Sugar High Friday

Restaurant Review: Royal Tokyo (Marshfield, WI)

Clang, clang, clang, clang. "Showtime," announced the teppanyaki chef as he struck his spatulas against the grill. The crescendo of sound mirrored my increasing excitement as I was about to experience teppanyaki dining for the first time. The rhythmic beating evoked a meaning that Chinua Achebe might have sought.

And then there was silence. Hugo, the chef, grabbed a squeeze bottle from a neat rack and poured some on the grill. Flames rose quickly and unexpectedly to the tall ceiling. And indeed, looking up, I did noticed some blackened spots against the white plaster. Now, I have seen advertisements for teppanyaki restaurants on television. But I immediately was surprised by the sensation of heat, which seemed elemental against a backdrop of flame and food. A burst of hot air against my face and it was gone. A simple reminder that cooking is all about heat.

Maybe I should start from the beginning.

Royal Tokyo is a teppanyaki Japanese steakhouse style restaurant in the heart of the historic district of Marshfield, Wisconsin. It's located in a very small building with historic roots. Marshfield developed as a railroad town and the building was once a train depot. Many years have passed and the entire time I lived in Marshfield (18 years), I only ever saw the building as an abandoned property. It was covered with grafitti and at least one of its cobweb filled windows was shattered. Nevertheless, my mother insisted on reminding me that when I was little I wanted to buy the building and turn it into a restaurant. It seems that someone beat me to it.

The property underwent a 320 Sycamore transformation.

The bricks have been restored to and are now very agreeable looking. There are now large elegant windows. As we walked through a pair of floor-to-ceiling exterior doors, we entered a surprisingly elegant setting. A stately lounge, complete with comfortable furniture and a fireplace, is situated in the front of the restaurant. The decor helps set the stage by suggesting Japanese influence. The lights, chairs, and cabinet all seemed vaguely and generically oriental. The couch, stuffed chair, and fireplace were standard-issue midwestern and could have been anywhere.

There's a small room that houses a bar set aside across the hall from the lounge. There are two wine bottle stands adorning either wall. The back of the room is decorated with dollar bills provided by guests. Frankly, this all seemed very plebian -- especially in contrast with the elegant decor, snappy service, and high expectations. The counter behind the bar had an orderly assortment of sundry spirits, many of high quality. There was also a sake-dispensing apparatus. Predictably, I had a view complaints with the bar. First, there was no drink menu thus putting the guest in the ackward situation of having to ask the barkeep what is available. Second, the beer selection consisted of mass market brews and was truly uninspired. This being Wisconsin, I expected to at least see some Central Waters beer for the offering. Third, the wine selection was very basic and the prices two high for the quality and level of service provided. Fourth, the wine was served in inappropriate glassware. Red wines ought to be served in glasses that seem to large for the volume added to them. Our wine was served in tiny glasses.

We had hardly consumed a third of a glass of merlot when a server lead us to our table. There, we picked which five-course prix fixe menu we wanted. You really only get to pick two of the courses, because the miso soup, salad, and ice cream dessert are otherwise always the same. I opted for the "turf and surf" special of filet mignon and salmon steak. I struggled to resist their sushi, but ended up getting a cucumber roll ("ninja sushi" with five pieces for $3 - $4) added to my dinner.

The miso soup came first. It was delicately fragrant and served in beautiful bowls that do the soup credit. Surprisingly, it had extremely high clarity. Other miso soups are cloudy. I suspect this one was clarified using egg whites, because it had a off-balance light flavor. Because of the extremely light flavor, the soup seemed very graceful and almost dainty. The seaweed at the bottom of the bowl didn't taste fresh and left me craving better quality soup.

Next came the salad, which was a pleasant admixture of ice burg lettuce and peaches with soy sauce. If my memory serves me correctly, I have never had any of these items together. Nevertheless, I thought that the sweetness of the peaches presented a good contrast to the saltiness of the soy sauce. And the crispness of the lettuce was impressive given the time of year.

My special order of "ninja sushi" showed up next in the lull between courses. Essentially, it consisted of seaweed rolled around rice rolled around cucumber. The course was artfully presented upon a miniature cutting board, to which I have always been partial. Four of the five pieces were expertly rolled and all five were absolutely delicious. My only complaints are that the rolls were cut into undesirably large sizes and that the chop sticks were difficult to use. I am accustomed to ones that are perhaps one and a half times the length of the ones at Royal Tokyo, and I prefer round to square. They just feel better in the hand. The short chop sticks accentuated the large size of the rolls.

It was at this point that our talented chef took the stage. I enjoyed a nice piece of salmon. It was cooked so that there was nice browning on the outside, but the flavor was still very fresh tasting in the middle. I may even have enjoyed it less cooked than it was, but I can only imagine the pressure to conform in Marshfield. Just before service, a lemon was squeezed onto the salmon which was expressed in the final dish. It went well with a glass of riesling that I ordered for this purpose.

Next came the filet mignon, cut into bite sized pieces. Because it was cut up and browned on all sides at the last moment and because the meat wasn't allowed to rest, I expected the meat to be dry and woefully overcooked. To my surprise and delight, the meat remained perfectly tender. Every bite burst with roasted beef flavor. The taste of the dish seemed to me like a concentrated form of the smell of my mother's beef stew dish. There's no other way to say it; the course was delicious.

Next came a course of steamed vegetables, but I was so full by this point that I was largely unable to eat much more. There were the usual assortment of vegetables, served with rice. The vegetables were just slightly undercooked, although I'm glad that the chef was able to avoid the usual vegetable mush that so many restaurants serve.

The meal ended with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream in a bowl. It had a good vanilla flavor, but was otherwise not remarkable.

My experience at Royal Tokyo was thoroughly enjoyable. As someone who enjoys cooking more than food, I love seeing the dishes being cooked, smelling the cooking, and interacting with the chef. For only $25 a person with wine, the price was right too.

Royal Tokyo is a welcome addition to the Marshfield dining scene.

What is food?

I recently finished reading Fast Food Nation and wanted to write about it. Not wanting to say more about something that has been written about exhaustively, I decided to see what other people had to say about the book. As I performed some (admittedly cursory) research, I realized that a lot of readers don't seem to know what food is.

(I thought I'd respond to some of the negative hue and cry surrounding the book.)

The most common reasonable criticism of Fast Food Nation is that the book doesn't talk about fast food. People rail against Schlosser for blaming everything on kids dropping out of school to BSE on the shoulders of the fast food giants. These people do have a point in one regard. Every kid has a choice to stay in school or not; Burger King doesn't have a say.

However, anyone who maintains such a view against the book is exposing a gross ignorance about food.

I won't adopt the attitude of the stern moralist who laments at how "people these days" have lost a sense of connection between the source of their food and themselves. I will say, however, that I lost that connection. Maybe as an American I never had an appreciation for where my food came from. And finding this connection again has been a wonderul discovery for me, even as I acknowledge that I have a long, long way to go.

That hamburger you get at a restaurant came from somewhere. The meat came from cows, each with personalities, each raised in a particular environment of animal husbandry. That cow was then killed and processed into neat little quarter pounders. At each step along the way, people are trying to make a living. In buying six tacos for $5, you're supporting minimum wage paying jobs that don't provide employees with training or transferable skills. You're supporting meatpackers getting injured on the job. And you're supporting honest ranchers losing their land as they are increasingly bullied around by the meatpacking industry.

Food is more than something you shove into your mouth. Food originates from a place. Food originates from a person and is conveyed to you by people. What we eat and how often we eat it has historical and ethical dimensions. Food is what connects us to the earth and to each other.

I'm not advocating vegetarianism (I like meat too much). Nor am I suggesting that everyone has to slaughter rabbits as Thomas Keller did to realize the fundamental inescapable truth of cooking. That the goal of cooking is to transform something that lived into something worthy of that life.

Fast food falls well short of that goal.

Tasting Notes: San Miguel Pale Pilsen

To dovetail with my review of Kelly's Malaysian dinner, Kelly gave me the rare opportunity to try a southeast Asian beer. She brought back a 330 mL can of San Miguel Pale Pilsen for me to try.

The San Miguel brewery has been around since 1890 and was once considered a world-class brewing operation. Now, however, it seems to have floundered in trying to settle for the bottom line. It's easily the largest brewery in the Phillipines and is said to have a 90+% market share in many southeast Asian countries. It also brews two truly abominable brews under liscense: Miller Genuine Draft and Löwenbräu.

To say that I had high expectations for this particular macro would be a lie. Nevertheless, I thought I'd give it a chance.



Pleasant aromas filled the room the moment I cracked open the seemingly quaint 330 mL narrow-mouth can. Upon further investigation, the first aroma I picked up was decidedly metallic. I associated the aroma with brass. Beneath the metal, there was a generic citrus aroma that stymied all of my efforts to provide a more exact description. As the beer warmed up, a pleasant hint of mushroom started showing up.

As I poured the beer into a glass, a large head was raised. It dissipated almost completely within three minutes of pouring. The color was very pale, lighter than Mountain Dew when held up to a nearby lamp. Plenty of carbonation graced the beer, although it seemed to express itself with unusually large bubbles instead of a melange of smaller ones.

The flavor seemed light for a beer of 5% strength, and lacked a lot of qualities that I expect and enjoy in this style. Make no mistake about it: this beer is brewed in the international pils style, not the Czech-German pils tradition.

There's a light malty pils flavor that seems to run the gamut of the tongue and then stop on a dime. I was impressed by this finesse and control. Many smashmouth brews have macho flavor experiences that could only dream of exacting such a precise blow.

On the other hand, the pils style ought to be well hopped. It should have a crisp flavor brought on by the bitterness of hops and elaborated by perfuming hops. This beer, however, has no detectable hopping. It pretty much only plays its generic malt flavor, except for the occasional hint of mushroom or cranberry as the beer warms. The aftertaste is really where the good flavors are. There's a complex malty aftertaste that makes you want to sip it, which is difficult given the beer's quaffability.

If the ingredients list is to be trusted, this beer might actually have been brewed in the Reinheitsgebot tradition. It lists only malt, cereals, and hops. Upon examing their website, however, I doubt that the beer meets that standard of purity. Practically all brewers that adhere to the Reinheitsgebot boast about it online. That San Miguel makes no mention of the issue is evidence enough for me.

For all of its faults, this beer is extremely well balanced. The taste and the aftertaste are like sitting on a swing on a nice summer day. The direct malty flavor is elaborated upon by the complex malty aftertaste.

I'm not so sure that I'd put money down to buy this beer myself, but it was an intereting and educational experience.

Malaysian dinner

My friend Kelly invited some friends over recently for a sampling of authentic Malaysian dishes.

Now, mind you that my knowledge of Malaysian cuisine is limited to what I read about it in the September/October 2001 issue of Saveur and an episode of No Reservations. In the magazine article, James Oseland experiences the cuisines of Melaka. If you're as geographically ignorant as I am, Melaka is a state and city toward the western part of Malaysia. So the dishes I experienced are not strictly from the same region, but the high praise he dished for the cuisine ("Malaysia was my France; my palate came alive there") piqued my interest.

Kelly prepared three dishes: pau, tom yam soup, and a tapioca dessert.



Pau are steamed rolls. They were filled with either pork or sweetened bean paste. I was told that they strongly resemble the Chinese bao zhe (Chinese-philes please feel free to correct my spelling). They were delicious, although it's certainly not something that I'm accustomed to eating. I found that this was a creative use of beans, since I'm accustomed to them in French (e.g. salade de lentilles) or in the Mexican/Mexican-American traditions.



The tom yam soup was good, too. She used a Lee Kum Kee brand base, and added green beans, broccoli, red bell peppers, and shiitake mushrooms. The batch was then split. To one half she added prawns and catfish; to the other portion, Kelly added fried tofu. This was all served over cellophane noodles. All a very good combination of fish, vegetables, and exotic seasonings.



Finally, the dessert consisted of tapioca boiled in water until soft to the bite. Some tapioca was placed in the bottom of mugs. One could then add coconut milk and/or palm sugar. Because I have a limited ability to eat tapioca on its own and didn't mix the dessert well, I actually wasn't able to finish it. But I imagine that with more exposure, I could develop a taste for it. And I quickly realized that it would look amazing served in wine glasses.

We drank reconstituted soy milk with the meal (served piping hot!) to keep with the traditional nature of the meal. As a Wisconsinite, I always thought there was something sinister about soy milks. I realize that there's an Asian tradition extending back nearly one thousand years of making milks out of soy beans. It's one of those things that when you apply a label to a product, you expect certain qualities. It's the same thing as when Heston Blumenthal served lobster ice cream. Customers didn't like it because they expected ice cream to be sweet. When he renamed it lobster bisque, his customers enjoyed it for what it was.

I tried to enjoy the soy milk as it was, but I couldn't drink much of it before my body started asking me why I was drinking it. Still, I'm glad that I at least gave it a try.

A German weissbier or a Belgian witbier would both accompany all three courses admirably. Saison would be an excellent partner will all of the complex flavors in the tom yam soup.

Bar Review: Genna's Lounge

Location: 105 West Main Street, Madison, WI 53703

If you live in Madison, you've probably walked past Genna's and thought it was little more than a cocktail bar filled with the countless suits who work at the Capitol. You know what I mean. And yes, I'm told that they're known for making some fine cocktails but I went in undercover and wanted to see how they were doing with beer. After all, they do advertise for the Tyrenna Brewery (Milwaukee, WI) right in their window.

The building itself is situated on a triangular corner, thus resulting in an unusual right-triangle layout inside. You enter along one of the corners and face the bar. In front of you are a small number of clean tables surrounded by comfortable bar chairs. To your left is a selection of cheeses, crackers, and other food items. I didn't try any of it. The walls are adorned with classic Guiness posters, lending an Irish pub like theme to the place. But it wasn't as convincing as, say, Brocach. This is not the kind of bar you want to stroll into wearing bar clothes. Everyone there was attired at the business casual level. I found it lacking Dotty Dumpling's Dowry's gemütlichkeit, Brocach's craic, and the soigné of Barriques Wine Cave. But what it lacked in warmth, it more than made up for in class.

Behind the bar there are 12 quality beers on tap and over sixty bottles from which to choose. As I looked at the selection of beers on the wall, I was stunned by the bold variety. They had Chimay Rouge, Delerium Tremens, Anchor Porter, Sierra Nevada APA and stout, among other world-class beers. The beer with the last class there was PBR. If I had to criticize the variety at all, it's that they went for a "world's best" approach rather than drawing from the fine selection of local brews. They had Spotted Cow and Wisconsin Amber on the wall, but where was the Lake Louie Scotch Ale? Or the Central Waters Lac du Bay IPA? Or Lakefront Eastside Dark? Although I don't agree with the global focus, I respect Genna's for being bold enough to serve Chimay in 750 mL bottles. To my knowledge, there is no other bar in Madison with the variety that I found at Genna's.

The bar tender knew a bit about beer, which was a gentle surprise. Although Madison is a beer savvy city, a startling number are hooked on disappointing macros. The bar tender seemed to have a good familiarity with the world of beer. When I ordered a Anchor Porter, they were out. So he suggested a Sierra Nevada Stout instead, which he said is much like a porter. I was impressed by this suggestion because I agree that Sierra Nevada's Stout is sufficiently light that I could easily mistake it for a porter.

I drank two beers there. Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout and Anchor Steam. I believe they cost $4 and $3 respectively, which are very reasonable prices in my opinion. When the bar tender placed the bottle and glass on the counter, I was disappointed by three things. First, the stout was served ice cold. The temperature at which stouts ought to be served is often said to be 65° F. Second, the glass was unusual to say the least. A pint glass would have kept with the Irish-themed decor and have highlighted some of the qualities of the beer. Instead it was the dreaded American tumbler glass. Third, I was carded. Now, as you can tell from my profile, I'm still only 24. And I understand that bars suffer serious consequences when they serve people who aren't of age. But I feel that carding is somewhat declassé and it shows a lack of respect for the guest.

The Oatmeal Stout was almost certainly skunked, which is an unfortunate consequence of the fact that it's sold in clear glass bottles. I still have no idea why brewers sometimes insist on non-opaque bottles. In my mind, it shows a lack of respect for their product. Still, the rich oatmeal flavors danced on my tongue followed by waves of roasted malt flavor. A wonderful beer. The bar can't be blamed for the bad bottle. One problem that haunts beer bars is that they have sacrifice freshness in obtaining diversity. From what I've heard, Genna's has a good reputation for serving fresh brews.

I had my first brush with Anchor Steam as well. Unfortunately, I drank it after the stout so my pallate wasn't able to give it the attention it deserves. I'll review it under my standardized conditions at a later time, so stay tuned!

In the summer, Genna's has a balcony where you can sit and have a beautiful view of the Capitol. The mere thought of a beautiful summer evening with a pint of Hefeweizen sounded so appealing that I knew that I'd be back.

WBW 19: When in Rhone...

Insert double-take.

You: I thought this was supposed to be a food and beer blog. What's with the wine?
Me: I could make something up. Like... No matter how much I prefer beer to wine, wine is an essential part of food experience and artisinal food culture. Or... I think you might be interested. But the bottom line is that I know very little about wine. If I'm serious about cooking, I need to change that. Perhaps Wine Blogging Wednesdays will help me develop as an oenophile. Consider it a sub-plot.

Jathan at Winexpression was looking for Rhone blends.

I picked up a bottle of 2002 Clos du Caillou Côtes du Rhône. I was interested in it because I heard that it was good. From reading things, such as the Wine Bible, I knew that the wine would be untamed with spicy, juicy qualities. What I didn't expect was how interesting the wine would be.

The nose was ostensibly disappointing. At first, it seemed to be of oak from top to bottom. As I put my nose further into the glass, however, I picked up raspberry, alcohol, and a rhubarb-like tartness. At 14% alcohol, I was actually surprised that ethanol wasn't more prominent in the aroma. The taste was both complex and delicious. The flavor leads in with a strong hand of oak that filled my mouth. After a few seconds, a burst of pleasant tannins took over and imparted a powerful leathery flavor. Finally, there was a rich bouquet of berries. Bits of raspberry, cranberry, and strawberry all lingered on my tongue for minutes. Echoes of oak and vanilla ended the taste experience. The wine left my mouth feeling slightly dry. True to form, it was just slightly velvety.

The estate was under the leadership of Jean-Denis Vacheron when this wine was produced, who holds an eight hectare estate just north of Avignon. He died an untimely death the year this wine was elaborated, and had his work continued by his wife Sylvie Pouizen and the talented Bruno Gaspard.

In Courthézon, the grapes grow in a squarely mediterranean climate. Despite 2002 being an off year for southern Rhone wines (think raining and flooding), I think it added a Jekyll-and-Hyde character to the wine that makes it more interesting. It's not sunny, but it certainly doesn't have the mulgrims either.

The two principle constituents of the wine seem to be grenache and syrah. I surmise that the fruitiness and warmth come from the grenache while syrah contributes hints of spice. I'm not familiar enough with Rhone varietals to further analyze the blending.

I imagine that this wine would be a good partner with many red meats. A steak cooked rare or medium rare with pepper on it, would be fantastic for example. I don't know how it would turn out, but I think it would be interesting to try this wine with tuna sushi.

Tagged with: WBW19 + WBW

Political commentary: why tagging isn't it

The Wisconsin State Journal printed an "our opinion" piece today entitled "Tag livestock to stop disease." The editors come out strongly in favor of proposals to require the tagging of livestock. Wisconsin has always been an exemplar of agriculture quality standards. It initiated the nation's first livestock identification system. Such systems require all farms that possess livestock (including hobby farms) to register with the Wisconsin Livestock Identification Consortium. This registry helps the government in the event of outbreaks of diseases. The program has been adopted by many other agriculturally-minded states.

The next step, they say, is to tag individual animals. Such a tagging system would take the identification system to a new level of detail, by tracking livestock from birth to slaughter. If it were then known that the Jones' have a problem with BSE, this would help farmers demonstrate that their animals never were on the Jones' farm.

Yet there are significant problems with these ideas. Namely, the proponants of these measures are trying to cover a deep wound with band-aids. Neither program does anything to solve the fundamental causes of BSE, which is fundamentally linked to the practice of feeding animals the by-products of meat production. A cow infected with BSE will have all of its nerve tissue contaminated. So no part of the animal can be safely used. It cannot be destroyed with heat, radiation, or extended freezing. Yet animal parts are simply recycled back into the system of feeding more animals, thus spreading the disease.

Shutting down this grotesque industry of making low-cost feed from animal "left-overs" would be a good first step.

People who are nervous about the potential of consuming BSE-infected meat are turning to small-scale farms. Such farms are an essential alternative to mass-market meat suppliers in that they raise their animals in a responsible manner, without the use of hormones, antibiotics, and vegetarian feed. The animals are often slaughtered on site by highly skilled personnel, a far cry from the de-skilled meat packers that butcher the meat for supermarkets. The meat is sold at a price that allows the farmers to make a living, invest in their land, and pay their hands fair wages.

Yet the very proposal that the Wisconsin State Journal is touting could very well put at end to such farms. Yes, the initial participation would be voluntary. But the decision to register with the Wisconsin Livestock Identification Registry was once voluntary, too. And now it's become mandatory. Large scale farms can afford to "chip" their animals. Small scale farms, the ones who are standing up to all of this insanity, are inherently ill-equipped to bring their operations into compliance. The practical result is that many, many organic livestock operations would be forced to shut down.

And for what?

So a meat industry can continue selling us meat from carnivorous cows, pumped up with growth hormones and antibiotics, and kept indoors for their entire four year life? Meat that needs to be irradiated because slaughter house conditions are so unsanitary? And is virtually untraceable once it leaves the plant? And even if it is found to be contaminated with anything, be it E. coli H157:O7 or BSE, the government still has no legal ability to monitor the quality control testing or to issue a recall.

The State Journal tried to cast the debate in terms of the civil rights of the farmer versus the government. Whether such concerns are valid is up to lawyers to decide. However, it characteristically misses the point of the entire issue.

Tackle the real issues. Then let's talk.

Tasting Notes: New Glarus Sour Brown Ale

Beer: Unplugged Sour Brown Ale
Brewery: New Glarus Brewing Company (New Glarus, WI)
Style: sour brown ale

How could I pass up the opportunity to review one of the rarer styles out there? Sour brown ales are a strictly Belgian affair, although several American craft breweries have tried their hand at it as well. Traditionally, the beer is brewed in and around Flanders. The most notable producer of it might be the New Belgium Brewing Company with La Folie.

The beer poured a hazy brown color and raised very little head. What head did develop dissipated quickly. There was no carbonation to speak of, as is appropriate for this style of beer.

The nose is pleasantly complex. A bold sourness hits first, followed by apple and orange peel notes. As I drank the beer, I found it to be only ostensibly sour. Yes, it is sour. It evoked the word "bizarre" in one of my friends. But it's a gentle sourness that may require some acclimation. The sourness quickly gives way to a sweet flavor that lingers on the tongue. It carries with it a convincing apple taste, with undertones of a fruit basket. I picked up hints of grapefruit, strawberry, and pineapple.

I'd really like to try this beer with sweet and sour chicken, Chinese restaurant style. The sour-sweet contrast in the beer would mirror the sweet-sour contrast in the dish. And it would do so without the flavors cancelling each other out. Many chicken and pork dishes would also go great with it, especially ones with sauce bontemps. I also think it would be a refreshing partner to apple pie, where the apples in the dessert would really bring up the apples in the beer.