Weygandt Wines, located in Cleveland Park, reminds me a lot of Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant.  That venerable Berkeley institution is one of my can’t miss shops whenever I visit my alma mater, and for good reason: the wines I buy from the store are perhaps the freshest, most vibrant wines I’ve ever found.  KLWM is sort of like a farmers’ market for wine.  If that is the case, then Weygandt Wines is sort of like the Eastern Market of wines.

The namesake of the shop, Peter Weygandt, and his wife Maria (née Metzler) have been importing boutique French wines since 1987.  He has recently expanded his portfolio to include wines from Italy, Germany, Austria, Australia, and Spain.  He imports some killer Beaujolais and Burgundy, and has an excellent Rhône selection.  In all, they import around 70,000 cases of wine from over 100 producers.

The Weygandts were not at the media event, but the event was run by the store’s general manager, Tim O’Rourke.  Tim has an interesting history, having started out as a chef.  He graduated from L’Academie de Cuisine in Maryland in 2000, did tours at Café Atlántico, Ristorante Tosca, and Citronelle, and has cooked with such celebrity chefs as Daniel Boulud and Michel Richard.  Being the general manager of a wine store probably has its own set of stresses, but I can imagine that it might also be very relaxed in comparison to working in some high-profile kitchens!

I had been to Weygandt only once before, and recently: I picked up a bottle of Cabernet France for an ongoing dinner with friends at Dino (which is right across the street).  The store was technically closed but I sneaked in and asked who I found out later to be Tim whether he could recommend a good Cab Franc, which he did.  Unfortunately, I don’t remember which bottle he selected, but it was good, and I appreciated being able to pick up a bottle after closing time (and at a substantial discount to boot!).

The event started out with a flight of six sparkling wines–one Crémant de Bourgogne and five Champagnes.

The N.V. Chermette Crémant de Bourgogne Brut, made of 100% Chardonnay, was lean and almost stony.  It wasn’t fruity per se, but it did have some citrus character.  It was tasty but not especially interesting (especially in relation to the Albert Sounit Crémants carried by Ansonia Wines).  The next wine, a bonafide Champagne, was the N.V. J.L. Vergnon Brut “Conversation”, a blanc de blancs that had tropical fruits on the palate a tart green apple on the finish.  This one was refreshing and would be perfect as an aperitif.

The next two wines were from Nathalie Falmet and were both non-vintage.  The Brut Nature, made with no added sugar (hence the “nature” in the name), had ripe apple and a nice round mouthfeel.  Even better than that, though, was the Le Val Cornet Brut, which had even more apple–the finish reminded me of the bitterness you get from apple skin, not a bad thing–and was fuller than the Brut Nature.

Bringing up the rear were the N.V. Philippe Prié “Depuis 1737″ Brut Tradition and the N.V. Nicolas Maillart “Platine” Premier Cru.  The Prié had what I thought was some noticeable malolactic character, and while I tasted some stone fruit/apple on the palate, the thing that struck me about this wine was the hint of something non-fruity.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it: maybe it was herbaceous, maybe it was minerally, maybe it was even a bit of sous bois.  Whatever it was, however, it was quite attractive.

The Maillart had rich fruit–like an apple and quince tart–and very nice body.  The Prié and the Maillart were my two favorite Champagnes of the evening.

But we had more to go.  Derek of the Weekly Wine Pick started off round two by contributing a bottle of grand cru Burgundy he had picked up from MacArthur Beverages’s bargain bin for around $20 or $30.  The 1983 Domaine des Lambrays Clos des Lambrays grand cru was created during my birth year and, like me, seems to have faded with age.  You can see its brick color in the picture below.  It had a cranberry nose, and the palate reminded me vaguely of pine nuts.  It was very light and had a short finish.  While pleasant, it was clearly past its prime.  I did appreciate being able to try such an old wine!

By this point I had decided to purchase a one-way ticket to Drunksville (business class, mind you).  So, I made a rounds of the store and my eyes settled on the Rhône.  But Southern Rhône or Northern Rhône?  I asked Tim for a recommendation, and we settled on the 2009 Yann Chave “Le Rouvre” Crozes Hermitage, a bargain at $29.99.  This Syrah, along with the pair of Beaujolais cru I will be mentioning soon, was my favorite wine of the evening.  It offered up a beautiful nose of dried herbs, violet, and anise, and the palate was a cornucopia of flavor: raisin, graphite, minerals. Relatively light-bodied, it had good acid and moderate tannins, with a long finish.  I could drink this all night long (and I did), and I could not believe how well it was drinking!

I would have stuck with that wine, had I not mentioned casually to Tim that I loved Beaujolais.  He instantly offered to find an older Beaujolais cru somewhere from the recesses of the store.  He brought back a 2007 Domaine Pierre Savoye Morgon, but when I mentioned also that I loved the ’09 Beaujolais vintage but had not yet tried the ’10s, he graciously opened up a bottle of the 2010 Daniel Bouland Chiroubles as well.

My loyal readers will know how much I freaking love Beaujolais.  To me, Beaujolais is a happy wine that can be put to serious use.  It pairs well with nearly everything, but when eating is not the point it is also just terrific to gulp and guzzle by itself.  Beaujolais cru are more complex, but at their price point (usually $15-$30, tops) it’s not a shame to use them just to slake one’s thirst.

The Morgon was more mineral and “cheese” than fruit.  It was a complex, delicious wine that was like the flirty bookish sister of a nice premier cru Burgundy.  The Chiroubles, by contrast, was all light cranberry and reminded some tasters of bubble gum.  It was juicy, bright, and just plain fun.  If the Morgon was the flirty bookish sister of a nice Burgundy, then the Chiroubles was the youngest sister everyone’s worried about.

After the Beaujolais came a trio of other wines.   Someone chipped in the 2009 Font Sarade Vacqueyras, and if I recall correctly Jessica and Jonathan of Jessica In Search Of… bought a bottle of 2009 Alfredo Maestro Viña Almante “La Olmera” Tempranillo (from the Castilla y León region of Ribera del Duero).  Aaron from Hogshead: A Wine Blog contributed a bottle of 2010 Domaine des Soulanes “Kaya” from the Roussillon.  The Vacqueyras, composed of Grenache, Mourvèdre, and Syrah, was a darker older cousin to the Chave Crozes-Hermitage, all tangled vines, leather, and green olives.  The Alfredo Maestro was juicy and fresh and reminded me of a Rioja crianza.  The Kaya, made of 100% Carignan, didn’t make too much of an impression on me, I’m afraid, because by the time I got to it the drunk train was nearly to the station.

Overall, this was a terrific event and I met some wonderful bloggers, some of whom have scooped me on this story.  The wines I tried at Weygandt were all at least good–many of them were excellent, and both Beaujolais were inspirational.  I would like to try some more of Weygandt’s Rhône portfolio, too.  My thanks to Tim, Weygandt Wines, and all the bloggers and people who made this such an awesome evening.

This is understandable.  My first experience with Beaujolais was in 2005, when I was still an RA at Berkeley.  I purchased a bottle of basic Beaujolais from Kermit Lynch.  I chilled it, just as the KLWM staff recommended, and served it to a few guests.  None of my guests liked it.  It was too thin, too acidic, a washed-out excuse of a wine.  I agreed with them to an extent, but there was something about it that I liked.

A few years (and a whole helluva lotta bottles of Beaujolais) later I’ve managed to articulate what I like about Beaujolais.  It’s not just one thing; there are many great things that make Beaujolais one of my favorite appellations.  For starters, it is inexpensive.  You can buy some serious bottles for less than $25.00, and you can buy most for under $20.00.  It is a joyful wine, one that you chill and gulp down, especially because Beaujolais is low alcohol (anywhere between 11-13% ABV).  It goes well with a wide variety of foods, from roast chicken to fish, and even to red meats.  Finally, it’s just tasty, full of fresh fruit but with some of the better examples featuring dark earth, minerality, and significant structure.

But yes, Beaujolais can often appear to be thin and washed-out.  This is not the case for the current vintage (2009) of Beaujolais, which Georges Duboeuf (the mastermind behind the phenomenon known as Beajolais nouveau) has proclaimed not only the vintage of the decade, or the vintage of the century, but the vintage of a lifetime:

Duboeuf’s passionate support for Vintage 2009 in Beaujolais is especially noteworthy as this tall angular man with the quiet voice and penetrating stare is not usually demonstrative, nor does he tend to exaggerate.  But when he recalled conditions of the 2009 growing season, his features softened and his voice quickened.  “There was good flowering in May and a steady warming through August. The amazing weather in 2009 means the Beaujolais wines are incredibly elegant and delicious.  In the 60 years I have been making Beaujolais, 2009 is the best vintage of my lifetime.”

I’m suspicious of such grand sweeping statements, but I like Beaujolais so was going to buy and drink it no matter what anyone said.  I’ve managed to have two bottles so far, and while I’m not going to generalize from that small sample size to an entire vintage or appellation, I will say that if other Beaujolais are of the same quality, then the 2009 vintage is, indeed, an exceptional one.  Note that the two bottles I drank were Beaujolais cru, not basic Beaujolais or Beaujolais villages.

The first one is from Kermit Lynch, the 2009 Nicole Chanrion Côte-de-Brouilly (about $22).  I found this one to be more similar to other vintages of Beaujolais I’ve had, still very light bodied and full of fruit (albeit dark fruit).  However, it had a substantial amount of tannin, much more than I’m used to for Beaujolais cru.

I preferred the second one much more: the 2009 Albert Bichot Morgon (about $20).

I purchased a bottle from my friend Jeremy at Potenza for $12 and I am kicking myself for not buying much more.  I had this a few nights ago and I was blown away by its concentration and elegance.  The nose was full of blackberry, and simply exploded on the palate with sweet, ripe fruit and stone.  It was almost jammy but an absolute joy to drink.  I can imagine that Beaujolais purists might not have liked this because it almost did not resemble a Beaujolais at all: it was like a blackberry cobbler or something.  But this would be the perfect wine to convert “Boo-juice” haters to lovers, and that would be a very good thing.

That being said, I went to Trader Joe’s on Thursday to stock up on foodstuffs.  Unfortunately, everyone and their mothers (literally) had the same idea, and the line wrapped all the way around the inside of the store and down the oils/pastas/nuts/dried fruits aisle.  Yikes!

What was more pleasant for me was going to MacArthur Beverages (as chronicled in a recent post) and then to Ansonia Wines to pick up some wine.  I’ve had the opportunity to have a friend or two over with whom to brave the cold, and we’ve gone through a few bottles of wine.

The first one was the Kermit Lynch CdR, which I’ve described previously as a joyous, joyful wine.  Having finished that bottle (thanks, Christine!), I moved on next to a cru Beaujolais, the 2008 Domaine du Vissoux “Poncié” Fleurie ($21.99).  Owned by Martine and Pierre-Marie Chermette, who are pioneers of sustainable viticulture in the Beaujolais region, this domaine produces a number of terrific wines.  The Poncié was light and aromatic, smelling of violets.  It was full of red fruit–think strawberry or raspberry–but ended with a nice suggestion of minerals and stone.  All-around great light wine, though ultimately not as expressive as other cru Beaujolais I’ve had in the past.

The next wine, which I opened to have with yesterday’s home-cooked dinner of turkey meatloaf, roasted brussels sprouts, and mashed potatoes, was the 2007 Domaine Saint Gayan Côtes du Rhône ($12.99).  Phil from MacArthur Beverages recommended this wine to me as a very good, inexpensive example of CdR.  Man, what a great wine!  Classic Côtes du Rhône nose of berries and herbs, tasting of boysenberry, licorice, and earth, solid acidity with pleasant tannins.  Juicy but also dark.  Very warming.  I would HIGHLY, HIGHLY recommend this wine and am strongly considering going back to MacArthur to buy a half-case of this for the next few weeks of cold weather.

The snow is falling outside.  I am listening to some good jazz and drinking the remainder of the Saint Gayan.  Soon I’ll have leftover turkey meat loaf and mashed potatoes.  Snowmageddon ain’t so bad after all.

The author of Vinicultured has been my friend for six years. In counting all of the intersections of our lives, I’d have to say that this cross-post is the culmination of those years. If you think that’s insulting, then you either underestimate the power of food as a social anchor or overestimate my ability to maintain a decent friendship. In any case, one late night trip to Berkeley’s most infamously mediocre taqueria in 2003 has already proven you wrong.

Back then, I was abstinent, and Joon was drunk. I was turning my 20th year on planet Earth and doing a terrible job of it. Joon was trying hard not to start a fight with the neighboring fraternity and doing just as badly. We decided to settle our scores with burritos. That night ended with me playing the guitar and him rambling about life’s unsung battles in the tiniest bedroom on the most unforgiving slope Berkeley has to offer. After that year, I never set foot in a fraternity house again.

Wikipedia reveals the true colors of wine tasting!

Last weekend, Joon and I raised our glasses under the aegis of a different cult: that sloshing, swirling society of connoisseurs known as wine tasters. It was a fitting signpost to our most recent intersection of lifestyles: He, the Bar bound poet and romantic, and I, the pop culture obsessed musician and blogger, would soon be ending our purgatorial sentences in Southern California as we once again made our moves on the world at large. We toasted our future discoveries and disillusionment in advance with a few glasses of joy at Heritage Wine Company in Pasadena.

To the unvinicultured, Heritage is a near-perfect self parody of a wine bar. Refined, semi-modern furniture bearing off-Ikea candles welcomes visitors to the club. Soft jazz hums along in the background. A young professional couple too embarrassing to look at sits before a flight of red wines, the woman blithely fiddling with her cellphone while the man slings an arm over his bench and takes a lifeless sip of his next sample. A beautiful young lady offers us a menu, indulging us with her personal favorites, knowing that as long as she smiles and laughs we will gladly do anything she suggests. In the background, the owner of the business shuffles bottles, waiting for the challenger of the day to seat himself self-assuredly at the bar for an hour of shop talk.

As the title of this blog attests, Joon’s own summation of Heritage Wine Company would be quite different. For example, he might have something insightful to say about the three bottles of wine we opened with our friends. As I recall, the 2004 Omaka Springs Falveys Pinot Noir was a crisp, tart affair, light bodied and nimbly cherried. The 2005 Domaine Ferrer Ribiere Empreinte du Temps Carignan Vin de Pays des Cotes Catalanes (I can’t decide whether or not my Russian phoenetics instructor would be proud or ashamed that I managed to remember that name) was a heavier duty glass: deep, dry and deliciously violet. Joon’s final selection, the 2006 Saint Amour Cru Beaujolais, came chilled. By that point, my insensitive and intoxicated wine palette could sense only the arrival of more sweet alcohol. The wines were fine, but like the names of the songs we sang in Joon’s room five years prior, these titles, too, were meant to be forgotten.

Once again, we closed the evening with the assistance of a large burrito. As I engulfed every delicious morsel, I wondered for a moment if I would ever set foot in a wine bar again. As long as I could call Joon a friend, I knew the answer would probably be yes.

Heritage Wine Company
115 N. Raymond Ave.
Pasadena, CA 91103
626.844.9333

—–

James Boo is a food blogger and all-purpose geek. You can read his work at theeatenpath.com and indefinite-articles.com.

I really like the blue and white tile. (Thanks to the Times for the picture!)

At any rate, Intelligentsia’s space was designed by a woman named Barbara Bestor. I found that she had also designed the interior of a quirky wine bar / restaurant called Lou, which happens to be in a seedy strip mall–sandwiched between a Thai massage parlor and a 24-hour laundromat–off of Melrose and Vine in Hollywood.

I did some more reading on Lou and liked what I read: a fair-sized and eclectic wine selection? Check. Hip interior? Check. Good food? Check. All I needed was to actually go.

A friend and I went earlier today and, man, the outside was as seedy as I had read online. The marquee sign in front of the strip mall has the names of each establishment therein, and for the restaurant the sign was all of three letters: LOU. We thought the place was closed on account a full-length floral curtain that covered the entire front side of the restaurant; luckily, it was far from closed.

(Thanks to Lou for the pictures!)

We sat at the communal table in the middle. The only negative is that it’s a bit cramped, though this turned out to have its charms as it’s easy to strike up simple conversation–as I did–with some neighbors. Found out that the roasted fresh figs with Tilston blue cheese, almonds, and grapes were a good bet, as was the salad of farro, heirloom tomato, Dante sheep cheese, Bermuda onion, and pistou. To be safe, we also ordered a bowl of sweet corn and avocado soup.

I think the best part about Lou is the wine. They had two beer selections and twenty-nine wines to choose from. Each of the wines were available by the two-ounce taste, glass, or bottle. The bottle prices were pretty darn reasonable, with the most expensive bottle going for $64 and the majority falling within $40 – $50. Tastes were average $6 and were surprisingly generous.

The menu had different categories of wine: for instance, it started with “Sparkly” and went on to “Fresh, light-bodied whites” and a few others, then ended with “Fuller-bodied, meaty, and earthy reds”, “Sweet muscats”, and “Other sweeties”. The varietal or appellation was listed first for each wine, then the prices, the country or state, winemaker and vintage, then brief a description.

And, for you health- or environment-conscious out there, Lou lists identifies “organic” and “biodynamic” wines on their menu!

We started off with tastes of the 2006 Beausejour cabernet franc rosé and the 1989 Domaine Brunet chenin blanc. I like the setup of the menu in that it lists a few descriptive words on each wine. For instance, the Beausejour was described as tasting like “white peaches”, whereas the chenin blanc was advertised as a “fabulicious aged chenin, mellow-sweet but not sticky, perfectly balanced.” The rosé was decent enough–I’ve had better–but the chenin blanc, a demi-sec from the Vouvray appellation of France, was truly “fabulicious.”

I brought the glass to my nose and took a whiff: I could smell the oxidation–heck, it was almost 20 years old! It was off-dry, for sure, with hints of honey and toasted almond, and a viscous mouthfeel. It almost had a port quality to it. It truly was mellow, though with a plasticine pucker that skirted dangerously to unpleasantness. It avoided this pitfall with really nice green apple acidity that basically saved this wine from itself. The acid was not overbearing at all; there was fine balance, as advertised, between the acid and the sweetness, the texture and the body. Tremendous, and well worth the $7 taste and even $56 per bottle price. It complemented the figs, grapes, and almonds, which were cooked slightly in what I felt was a port or balsalmic reduction.

For our second round of tastes, she had a Beaujolais (made from the gamay grape) cru, the 2006 Piron Chenas to be specific. This was billed as having hints of “black cherry”. I’m a fan of Beaujolais, so I was all for it. I tried a strange Austrian varietal, the blaufränkisch, a varietal I had been meaning to try ever since Eric Asimov profiled it and its cousin, zweigelt, in the Times. The specific wine I tried was the 2005 Moric blaufränkisch.

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed with the blaufränkisch. As Mr. Asimov notes, blaufränkisch can make full and delicious wines, but many examples of this varietal are clumsy and poorly executed. I felt this to be the case with the Moric. There was a fair amount of acidity and a bit of a tannic bite, which could have been balanced with some good body–but the body never developed. It felt a bit flabby and overly acidic at the same time, which is not a combination one should ever see in a wine.

But I was quite happy with the results of the wine “tasting”. I got to try a 20-year-old chenin blanc–one of my favorite white varietals–and blaufränkisch, a strange wine I had been meaning to try now for a while. I also got acquainted with a nice rosé from a varietal–cabernet franc–I had never before experienced as a rosé, and got reacquainted with a lovely, light Beaujolais.

Lou: a hidden gem. Wonderful service, wonderful atmosphere, and a serious, serious wine list that has something for everyone. A must-try for any budding oenophile!

But with what wine could I seek respite?

I am a big lover of reds–during warmer weather I am apt to go for lighter reds, such as beaujolais, or, lacking anything suitable, to mix one- or two-day-old red wine with good Korean cider (such as Chilsung Cider, which is cleaner and lighter than, say, Sprite, with a pleasant touch of strawberry). This 60-40 blend of red wine and cider, served over ice, is delicious and a great way to beat the heat and dispose of wine that is past its prime.

I didn’t have any old red wine on hand: I was fresh out, in fact, and looking for something quick, cheap, and refreshing. A long, tapered green bottle caught my eye: the 2007 vinho verde branco adamado from the Adega Cooperativa de Ponte de Lima (whew!).

This vinho verde is a mix of different white varietals, including the obscure loureiro, trajadura, and pederna grapes. This vinho verde is great: very light body with high acidity, mouth-puckering tartness approximating green apples and citrus, low to medium sweetness, and a pleasant effervescence caused by the addition of carbon dioxide before bottling. (Thanks to tvinoronquillo at www.cellertracker.com for this picture!)

I couldn’t really think of any specific food to try and match this wine with: the vague term “picnic” came to mind, as did the words “sun”, “beach”, “girls in summer clothing”, “public drunkenness”, and “fun”. It’s a fun wine, fun to drink, easygoing, surely a popular choice for any spring or summer gathering that requires something a bit more “adult” than soda. At $9.99, it’s ALMOST the same price as soda (you know… gourmet sodas).

The wine closest to vinho verde in my mind is txakolina, the delightful fizzy white wine from the Basque region of Spain. The vinho verde from Adega Cooperativa de Ponte de Lima, however, is sweeter and juicier–the txakolina I’ve had is leaner, drier, and has a bit more of a mineral edge.

Some interesting information about vinho verde: it literally means “green wine” and is meant to be consumed very young–so soon, in fact, that most producers don’t even bother with vintage dates. I had considered vinho verde to be exclusively a white wine, but in fact a large percentage of vinho verde produced and consumed in Portugal is red.

Your homework assignment: buy a bottle of vinho verde and drink it up! Extra credit–find a bottle of RED vinho verde and let me know what you think!

My first exposure to rosés was when I worked at Adagia Restaurant in Berkeley–specifically, we had Brander Vineyard’s Chateau Neuf de Pink and Domaine Tempier’s Bandol rosé. From what little I remember of those two wines, I liked Tempier–it had an austere quality, bone-dry. All I remember of Brander’s selection is chef Brian Beach poking fun at the name.

All in all, however, I was unimpressed. Reds–especially the brooding malbec and the sensual shiraz–were still my willing mistresses.

That changed when I tasted the Ampelos Rosé of Syrah last year. It was the late summer, hot as heck. “Teeth-staining” and “tannic” were not the qualities I was looking for in my wines, let alone any beverage. At a tasting they poured the Ampelos rosé and it was love at first taste.

Strawberries. Strawberries everywhere. It was as if strawberries were bursting forth–Dionysus-style–from the glass. Fresh. Quite simply spring in a glass.

The taste is even better than the bouquet. More strawberries, bright and with a lively level of acidity. The acidity, though noticeable, is not overbearing at all.

The most important thing here, though, is the heft of the wine. Most rosés I’ve had are thin–Kate Moss in a redhead wig. This thin body usually led to wines that were just uninspiring or downright disgusting. The Ampelos, however, is voluptuous–a ripe, full wine (maybe on account of its being made from syrah?) that reminds me of some fetching farmer’s daughter on a warm spring night. You can think of it as the sassy daughter of a plump syrah wife and some dour riesling husband.

Not sweet. But fruity. Balanced acidity. Soft finish that is free from that cheap plasticine quality I hate in whites and rosés. Overall, quite possibly the best rosé I have ever had in my life–and contender for one of the best wines I’ve had, period.

That was, of course, the 2005 vintage. How would the 2006 compare?

My love affair with the Ampelos was tragically short. After enjoying two quick bottles I found that all the stores in my area were out. And I had to wait 10 long months until April at Silverlake Wines sent a reply to my wistful e-mail: “We received a case of the Ampelos rosé today. Let us know how many you would like us to put aside for you.”*

I set aside four: one for myself, and one each for three co-workers. (I’m not a jealous man!) At $17 – $18 it’s more expensive than, say, a white zinfandel, but worth every penny.

I just came home from a day in Silver Lake (which will the subject of a future post) with Jonathan Lewis and opened my bottle. My mom, my sister, and I quaffed copious quantities of the wine. Utterly delicious. Entrancing. Beautiful. Spring in a glass, two years in a row.

COMPOSITION: 100% syrah.

APPELLATION: Santa Rita Hills in the Santa Ynez Valley of California
_____________________________

* One of the guys working at Silverlake Wine asked if I was the guy who sent an e-mail asking them to set aside some bottles of the Ampelos Rosé. I said yes. He asked if my name was Joon. Again, yes.

“That’s funny. There’s another guy–I swear his name is Joon Song–who wrote us an e-mail asking about the Ampelos. I thought you guys might be related or something.”

Whatever Ampelos Cellars is putting into their rosé certainly seems to be working with Korean-American males, specifically those named Joon Song. Ladies–now you know the way to my, err… our hearts!

Zankou is a Pasadena institution, made famous by Beck in his brilliant song “Debra” (I met her… at J.C. Penny…). EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER loves Zankou chicken. And you can’t beat their kitschy shirts:

But I’ve found that their chicken is lacking (gasp!). Their portions are small, the chicken is greasy, and the skin–the most important part!–is rubbery. It’s like eating a rubber chicken–a delicious one, but still, a rubber chicken.

People love Zankou’s garlic sauce. I agree. It’s damned good. But even with their combination plates you don’t get rice pilaf! You only get pita and hummus and tomato and pickled turnips. And their standard 1/2 chicken plate is $7.98.

Al Wazir is on the corner of Hollywood and Gower. They roast their chickens using the 2000-year-old “Al Wazir” method. A standard 1/2 chicken plate is $6.45 and includes hummus, salad, pickled turnips, AND rice pilaf. It’s enough for two people.

But the most important part is the chicken itself. The skin is superb, crisp and crackling. The flesh is moist and tender. It’s obviously superior to Zankou, though most of the people at my office don’t agree.

Now the connection with wine: Al Wazir, and maybe Zankou, is great with beaujolais nouveau–specifically, the Louis Tête mentioned in a previous post. Beaujolais nouveau is perhaps the lightest, most white-like red wine. It’s fruity, juicy, and meant to be gulped joyously. It’s refreshing and, the best thing, it gets you drunk.

If you hurry, you might be able to find bottles of nouveau in stores–it’s a bit late for beaujolais nouveau, but I suspect that there are thousands of bottles sitting around, waiting for their moment in the sun.

A lot of people hate beaujolais nouveau, and as a result completely dismiss beaujolais.

First, if your only experience with beaujolais nouveau has been Georges Dubeof (zhohrzh(uh) dew-buhf) you should consider trying a better version! Critics say that Dubeof’s nouveau is worse than Kool-Aid–my experience generally seems to corroborate this. However, I have had very good nouveau:

Louis Tête produces a delicious nouveau that is thirst-quenching, balanced, and easy on the budget ($11 – $12).

I have to admit that beaujolais nouveau is strange: it’s as close a red will get to a white wine. There is zero tannin versus a fair bit of acidity, a bit of sweetness and fruitiness. It’s meant to be served chilled, and meant to be gulped. Nouveau itself has a production time of two months or less, and unlike many reds it is NOT supposed to be aged.

And that’s just “new” beaujolais. Beaujolais itself is another matter that will be discussed in another post.