I was meeting up for dinner with my friend Camille from high school and had to find a place to eat.  But where to eat?  I looked around the internet and scoured the annals of my own experience to come up with four or five choices, which I proffered to her to choose from.  She chose Bacaro, a wine bar in South LA.

(Thanks to Yelp! for the pic.)

Bacaro came recommended from one of my fellow bloggers, Horny for Food.  It was supposed to have a good, reasonably-priced wine list, and good, reasonably-priced small plates.  Note also the cool atmosphere–blackboard wall, wine bottle ceiling, good mix of yuppies, hipsters, and yupsters.

We arrived pretty late–around 9:15 pm, or 45 minutes before closing–but this wasn’t a problem.  We shared a 24-oz bottle of Fischer Amber Ale ($7 or $9, I believe) while waiting for a table.  We were seated promptly and we ordered a few of their small plates, or “cichetti.”

You can get one cichetti for $7 or three for $19.  We ended up getting five cichetti and one “dessert” item.  Santos, our server, recommended about three plates per person to actually get filled up, but you could probably order one or two per person if you were just looking for a light snack.

First up was the grilled hanger steak with fresh thyme, olive oil, and lemon.  It was cooked medium rare and was perfectly charred on the bottom.

(If you haven’t tried hanger steak, you should: it’s also known as butcher’s steak because butchers used to save this cut for themselves.  It “hangs” from the diaphragm of the cow, thus imparting to the steak a rich flavor and perhaps even a hint of liver or kidney.  Yeah, that sounds gross, but it’s really, really good.  If you go to a French bistro and they serve onglet (the Gallic name for hanger steak), get it.  It’s delicious, especially with some frites.)

Next up was the grilled rosemary honey chicken which came on a bed of mixed greens.  The chicken was very tender and very well marinated, overall very good.  There was also a plate of small squares of crispy polenta topped with a puree of eggplant–slightly tart, slightly salty, the cold soft eggplant contrasting deliciously with the hot crispy polenta.  Very, very good.

My favorite dish was the pan-seared scallops: two large scallops on top of a bed of sauteed spring onions and crostini.  The scallops were masterfully done, but the sauce, consisting of butter and lemon, was absolutely superb.  This was an incredibly rich dish, jam-packed with flavor.  Amazing, and a must-have.

We also ordered one of the day’s specials–the mussels in a tomato-pepper sauce–which was decent.  The mussels themselves were cooked very well but were overwhelmed by the sauce.  Still decent, but I’ve had better.

Finally, we ended with the “dessert”: a Nutella panino.  Two slices of grilled bread held Nutella and either bananas or strawberries.  Of course, you could do like we did and request BOTH bananas and strawberries.  I’m not a fan of Nutella per se, but this was very, very good and a perfect end to the meal.

Of course, this being a wine blog I have to write a bit about the wines we had.  I ordered a glass of the Three petite sirah and Camille had a glass of the Jenke Barossa rosé, made of cabernet franc.  The prices were pretty decent–I believe around $7-$9 per glass–but the pours were a tad small.  Regardless, the wines were excellent.

Three is a new project by Matt Cline of Cline Cellars, maker of some pretty excellent zinfandel.  His petite sirah is bright and juicy with blackberry, with a hint of duskiness and tannin.  Very enjoyable.  The rosé was one of the darker rosés I’ve tried, almost as dark as just a straight-up cab franc.  Very concentrated flavor, a nose redolent of strawberry, fruity but not necessarily sweet–a very substantial rosé and one I’d seek out again.

Bacaro has, from what I can tell, a good and diverse wine list at very affordable prices.  For instance, they offer an Irouleguy from Domaine Etxegaraya for $40 which isn’t a huge markup, and the “Cuvee Terroir” Chinon cab franc from Charles Joguet (a Kermit Lynch selection) for $42–again, not a huge markup at around $25 retail.  They offer a lot of Italian but back that up with good selections from France, Germany and Austria, and the New World.  Most bottles are around $32-$40, with the lowest being $24 and the very highest being the Vina Valora from Rioja, clocking in at $142.

I would definitely recommend Bacaro.  Excellent food, great wine, great ambiance, and great service.  The price was good, too, at $80 total for two people (six dishes, a 24-oz beer, two glasses of wine, and around 20% tip).  Bacaro is sort of in a ghetto area near USC, but that just means it’s a diamond in the rough.

BACARO L.A. WINE BAR
2308 S. Union Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90007
(213) 748-7205
www.bacarola.com
 

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* I just recently listened to the song from the last summer, “American Boy” by Estelle, which is on the whole enjoyable (and to my knowledge still my friend Megan’s ringtone) EXCEPT for something in the chorus:

Take me on a trip, I’d like to go some day
Take me to New York, I’d love to see LA.
I really want to come kick it with you.
You’ll be my American Boy, American Boy.

The way Estelle says “LA” irks me.  She enunciates the name so that it’s not Eh-LAY like most people I know say it, but pronouncing each letter distinctly and separately–sort of like EL-AY.  If you say it that way it ceases to refer to the city and is just two letters.  Does this bother anyone else?

(1) My roommate Alex does not like Belgian beers.
(2) My roommate Alex does not like hops.

Of course, as with any immutable truth there are gray areas. However, as far as beer and Alex are concerned, these two truths might as well be the laws of the universe.

While we were drinking at Mission Wines over my winter break, I remarked to one of the associates how much I liked IPAs–for instance, I loved the Craftsman Brewing Company‘s IPA that Mission Wines had on tap.  I then complained about Sam Adams’s Imperial Pilsner, which I had had a year or so previously and loved but which seemed incredibly out of whack for this most recent iteration (crazy hops married with a syrupy texture is not a good idea in my book).

The associate looked at me dead in the eye and said, “Wait one minute.”  He left the bar, went to the back to some shelf, and brought back a 750-mL bottle of this:

The “Chouffe Houblon” Dobbelen IPA Tripel from Brasserie d’Achouffe in–where else–Belgium.

The associate was obviously very passionate about this beer.  He said how it was a unique beer because not only was it a tripel but an IPA tripel, which is nearly unheard of in Belgian beers.  He rolled it on the counter and held it up to the light for us to see the fine lees like the dust of a late summer day against the dying sun.  I had to have it.  I paid $10.99 for it, packed it up in my check-in bag, and brought it out all the way to DC.

Alex and I drank it yesterday as a nightcap.  It definitely worked.

It has an ABV of 9.0%, which is pretty strong but I suppose standard for tripels.  When I poured it into our wineglasses aromas of lychee and honey issued forth.  There was a nice, very substantial head, and the color was like pale amber or, again, honey.

The first sip was a sock in the face with a fist enrobed by a velvet, perfumed glove.  The entry was light and actually creamy, very full and rich.  I noticed that the impression I got from drinking the beer changed depending on how I drank it: it was smoother and creamier if I let it slide down easily, and a bit harsher and flatter if I tried to gulp.  I guess the difference was the different receptors on the different areas of the tongue or something.

The taste reminded me tangerine, again that persistence of honey; oatmeal maybe, and a finish of ginseng.  The taste got more bitter, naturally, as we neared the bottom of the bottle, and the last half-cups were gloriously hazy.  By this point, too, we were pretty buzzed.

My verdict?  A wonderful, unique beer: interesting as hell and very satisfying for such a complex beer.  I would have it with food, though, as it gets bitter near the end.  Mediterranean food and roast chicken would probably be good bets.

Alex liked it, too, though he swore against hops and Belgian beers.  Perhaps the confluence of both won him over.  Regardless of the reason, this is proof that there is an exception to every rule.

For once I feel as if I’m learning something that is truly relevant–I no longer have to worry about esters and “backside attacks” (well–living in DC, that last is not entirely true!).  All I have to do is worry about offers and agreements, the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, tortfeasors, and restorative justice.

It does feel like a lot at times, and I’m sure I’ll be VERY stressed during finals.  However, I’ve been able to get by with a little help from my friends–and a lot of help from booze.

A funny thing about grad school is that I’m drinking much more than I did at college; oddly enough, what I’m drinking is worse than I what I had at college.  As a fifth year I only stocked Grey Goose and Ketel One, Tanquerey, Campari, Pimm’s…  I’ve been reduced to drinking rail drinks and Smirnoff vodka once again.

I HAVE been drinking some good wines–I’ll have to write about those soon–but I have also been drinking a lot of beer.  A LOT of beer.  Much of it is Miller or Bud Lite, unfortunately; happy hour is a big phenomenon here.  And you know what?  Miller and Bud and Coors do the job.

But one yearns sometimes for more than just a quick, cheap buzz.  One occasionally needs quality, to taste the finest hops and malts (unironically), to drink a beer with quality.  This was a precitipating factor behind our recent Beer Potluck.

The idea is simple: find a nice, large venue.  Invite a lot of people.  Then, ask for these people to come to the aforementioned venue with a six-pack each of their favorite brew.  To ensure the widest range of beer, coordinate so people don’t bring too much of one kind.

In this particular instance, we had the party on the roof of the fabulous Woodward Building.  We invited 100 people from our 1L class.  And about 60 or 70 of those people showed up, most of them with great beers.

Some of the beers we sampled included:

Allegash White
Anchor Steam Liberty Ale
Bell’s Oberon
Blue Moon
Brooklyn Brewery Summer Ale
Carlsberg
Delirium Tremens / Nocturnum
Dominion Ale
Dogfishhead 60 Minute
Dos Equis
Guinness
Kennebunkport Apricot Wheat
Kronenbourg
Leffe Blonde
Leinenkugel’s
Magic Hat #9
Newcastle
Ommegang
Quilmes
Sam Adams Summer Ale
Shiner Bock
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale
Stella Artois
Troegs
Yuengling

There were at least… like 15 other varieties.

Try it out! But remember to have plenty of cups so you’re not stuck on one beer when you can be trying four or five!

I dipped in gingerly a few days ago, having a Firestone Double Barrel Ale after dinner. It got me legitimately “crunk” (keep in mind here, good readers, that I AM Asian, after all… my ancestors weren’t exactly quaffing tankards of beer around some round table in the forests), but it was a delightful feeling. The Double Barrel Ale is a good beer, moderately hoppy, somewhat sweet, a rich amber color. The only down thing about the DBA was that it had an off-putting aftertaste–more like an afterfeel… a bit syrupy, but not in a pleasant way. Oh well. It was a good beer, though not one I’d put into my standard rotation.

Today after work my co-workers and I opened a long-saved bottle of Joel Gott “815″ cabernet sauvignon. (Named after the birth date of Gott’s daughter.) Four of us chipped in a few bucks each for the bottle back in MARCH, but there never was any real occasion or opportunity to open it up and enjoy. What better day than the day before the Fourth of July?

The bottle, which had been stowed away in one of my co-worker’s cabinets for a few months, wasn’t exactly at the optimal serving temperature–a few degrees too warm, in my estimation. I decided to create a make-shift ice bucket. I was not going to just stick the bottle in the communal fridge in the other suite: people didn’t think twice about stealing half-eaten burritos; I wouldn’t take my changes with a beautiful new bottle of cab!

But what could serve as the ice bucket?

I thought first of a coffee pot. Unfortunately, the lip was too small and the bottle wouldn’t fit. I thought next of using a box–and plastic bag–of Kix cereal. Unfortunately, this box of cereal was far from uneaten. I could not tolerate the waste of good cereal for the sake of wine.

Then, I got it: the French press with which we brewed our fancy specialty coffees!

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Necessity is the mother of all invention, right?

This jury-rigged setup barely worked. There wasn’t enough water and ice to surround the wine. This wouldn’t have worked at all for a room-temperate white that needed to be chilled; however, my goal of getting the red down a few degrees was met.

I poured the wine into plastic tumblers and we cheered to the weekend and the end of the workweek. The wine? Very good. Plummy, very approachable with easy tannins. A bit of vanilla from the oak. Delicious overall, but it would have been better with a nice piece of meat. =/

I’m glad to say, also, that the holes where once my bottom teeth lived are healing nicely and no longer requiring the use of vicodin to placate. Oh alcohol, my fair beauty, my delightful maiden: I have returned!

Yesterday, as we all know (or all now know) was Father’s Day. My family decided to stay at home and cook dinner instead of go out for some fancy affair. My brother decided upon angel hair pasta with a sauce of mussels, shrimp, basil, tomato (apparently from Canada and therefore 100% immune from salmonella), garlic, and white wine. He was in charge of buying the food: I, of course, was in charge of getting a wine to drink and with which to cook.

We found ourselves at Whole Foods, which apparently is the nation’s #1 wine retailer for 2007 or something. They do have a pretty good wine selection, and I spied a bottle of grüner veltliner, that spicy, peppery Austrian white that is one of the next big things in the wine world (though not according to David J. D. over at Horny for Food). It’s still relatively obscure–though almost cliché in some circles–so it’s a great bargain, especially given its quality. I picked up a bottle of velt.1 grüner for a cool $9.99. Excellent.

No good meal starts without an appetizer, and I decided to make one of the quickest, simplest appetizers out there: Anaheim peppers pan-fried in olive oil and some sea salt. Anaheim peppers aren’t necessarily spicy, but when cooked they seem to retain a trace of heat–a bit of fire hidden by waves of green satin. I cut up three peppers and fried them while my brother cooked the pasta, then served them with a glass of Anchor Steam’s Liberty Ale.

The hops in the Liberty Ale helped highlight the spice of the peppers, and the beer itself was overall refreshing. But now on to the main course–the wine, that is.

The pasta was great, fresh and briny from the mussels, with a green herbaceousness from the loads of basil. This matched well with the green qualities of the grüner; the peppery bite of the wine also complemented the basil and garlic. The wine had a clean, fresh taste that was perfect with seafood: the grüner veltliner was dry, so there was no flab or lack of focus here. It was well-received by everyone in the family–even the father approved! Great wine from velt.1, and a great selection from Whole Foods!

After writing that post, there were quite a few people who commented that I should try Unibroue’s “La Fin du Monde” (The End of the World)–an interesting name for a beer, I thought.  I had opportunity to pick up it from the new Whole Foods on Arroyo Parkway in Pasadena, along with some pre-made, frozen cioppino and a rosemary ciabatta loaf from Trader Joe’s.

I made the cioppino, which was very easy to make.  So easy, in fact, it made me think about a fellow blogger’s post about the merits of pre-made Trader Joe’s foods.  At any rate, within about 10 minutes I had two steaming bowls of cioppino, the warmed rosemary loaf, and a freshly-opened bottle of “La Fin du Monde”.

The End of the World was a very good beer, with nice carbonation and a bit of hops hitting me upon the first sip.  The scent was full of orange and spring, and blossomed into notes of orange, coriander, and maybe a little bit of custard.  It was zesty and spicy.  It wasn’t as full as “La Terrible”, nor did it have the same delightful texture of “La Terrible”.  It would be the refreshing, warm-weather cousin of “La Terrible”, which is a darker, heavier beer (“La Terrible” has a port-like character to it, which I found disqualifies it from being a thirst-quencher).

“La Fin du Monde” was actually a pretty good match for the cioppino on account of the herbal/spicy characteristics they both shared, as well as zinginess and bright acidity of the beer pairing with that from the tomato base of the soup.

“La Fin du Monde” is similar to Avery’s “White Rascal” or Hoegaarden, but as opposed to those beers, it has an ABV of 9%.  I would recommend it highly.  Those French-Canadians certainly know how to make their beers!

This cross-country drive was a very significant moment for me: I passed through more than twenty states and saw parts of the United States that had been little more to me than pictures or words. The only bad thing about this trip was that it was done at breakneck speed: we went from Berkeley to New Haven in the equivalent of about five days, which meant we drove about 18 hours a day.

Needless to say, we couldn’t eat very much more than fast food. For instance, I now love Sonic, which is not really in the Los Angeles county area. But we couldn’t sit down for a nice meal or really interact too much with the inhabitants of most of the states through which we passed.

This was not the case for my Berkeley friend, James, who made it a mission to drive around the South and try as many different iterations of pulled pork BBQ sandwiches as possible. His trip is documented on his blog, The Eaten Path: you should really read his extremely entertaining account of his magnificently cholesterol-laden trip, which you access by clicking here.

James and I had opportunity to meet up yesterday for some BBQ here in California–specifically, Beachwood BBQ in Seal Beach, of all places. He had written about Beachwood BBQ in The Eaten Path (here), and I was feenin’ it for a while. Of course, Seal Beach is 30 miles away from South Pasadena, so it was a bit too far for a casual visit. Well, the 710 to the 5 to the 605 fixed that, and I was sitting across the booth from James, waiting for our fried green tomato sandwich with sweet potato fries to arrive.

That was our appetizer. I’ve never had a sandwich as an appetizer before, but I was glad we ordered it: it was a few slices of deep-fried green tomato with smoked mozzarella and lettuce on a French roll. It was heartbreaking; it was one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had in my life. I would have been tempted to order more, except we had ordered a three-meat combo plate as well.

The three meats on the combo were pork ribs, beef brisket, and hot link sausage. The plate also came with tangy slaw and some sort of sliced carrot dish, though there were also almost a dozen other sides from which to choose.

The pork ribs were delicious: substantial yet tender, well-seasoned. They weren’t saucy but were either in a marinade or dry rub or something (I’m not a BBQ expert!); the spicy vinegar and different sauces at the table added a little bit of extra kick. The beef brisket was tender but not very special otherwise–bland and a bit dry, actually. The hot link was indeed hot and very satisfying.

To wash it all down, James had a black lager which I found to be a bit flabby. Luckily, I had the Stone Ruination Ale which had good body and almost a chewy texture. It was hoppy but was well-balanced with a good malty character. It also had this herbaceous aftertaste that I still can’t put my finger on.

I also had the “Hop It” from the Urthel brewery in Belgium. I wanted something even hoppier than the Ruination; in fact, I asked the server for the hoppiest thing on the menu. She recommended the appropriately named Hop it. My first sip was disappointing: “This isn’t hoppy at all, James!” I exclaimed to my eating partner. He tried it and said, “Joon, this is pretty hoppy.” I refused to believe him until I took

another sip. My God: this thing was the hoppiest thing I’ve ever had in my life (except for the whole dry hops I tasted at a hospitality convention). However, it wasn’t crazy: it was mouth-puckering but had a refreshing citrus profile. I don’t know if it was the best match for all the spicy sauces we were eating.

Overall, I would recommend Beachwood BBQ if you’re already in the area. It has great pork ribs and a pretty extensive beer selection. They have some wines but not many: their corkage is $5.00.

I’m of course referring to Sam Adams, one of my favorite “small breweries.” Small is in quotation marks here because it’s so ubiquitous now. That ubiquity, however, is a good thing, as I love Sam Adams beer.

Sam Adams was founded in 1985 and is considered one of the main players in the craft brew movement. However, go back another 20 years and there’s an even more influential brewery: the Anchor Brewing Company based in San Francisco.

One of the traditions of my fraternity was to “adopt” new pledges into different respective beer families. There were a number of different families, including but not limited to the Coors Light family, the Sierra Nevada family, the Anchor Steam family, and my own, which was the unfortunate (for many different reasons) Red Nectar Ale family. Red Nectar Ale is disgusting, probably one of the worst beers I’ve ever had in my life. In fact, I tried to stage a coup d’état by splitting off from that family and starting the Sam Adams family. That’s another story for another time.

When the time came to reveal the families, the older brothers would bequeath a six-pack of the family beer to their new younger brothers. Usually, this meant that a fair amount of trading (and drinking) would take place. This was how I was introduced to Anchor Steam’s Anchor Steam beer, one of the last remaining examples of California Common beer.

I’ll be honest: I didn’t like it. In fact, I hated it. I thought it was waaaay too bitter. My favorites at that time were beers like Rolling Rock: I couldn’t say I had a very sophisticated palate when I was a sophomore in college.

Fast forward five years: I’m in love with hops. In fact, I love IPAs and Imperial pilsners and other delightful and crazily-hopped beers. I’m moving away from beers with more malty characteristics and discovering how delicious and refreshing beer with high hop profiles can be. I tried Anchor Steam’s Anchor Steam again and was suitably impressed–it was kind of like reading Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath a second time.

Yesterday I was picking up some Chinese food for a family dinner and I decided to go to Bristol Farms to get some beer. Now, Bristol Farms is not exactly a bargain bin when it comes to prices, but it does have a very decent selection. I was planning on buying a bottle of Le Fin du Monde from Unibroue, based on the recommendations of the Beer Babe and my friend Katie, but I didn’t know how well that would go with Chinese food. I wanted something drier and hoppier… something that could cut through the grease of chow mein and beef and broccoli.

Then my eyes settled on Anchor Steam.

But I had had Anchor Steam before: I wanted to try something new. Thus, I decided to try the very tastefully-labeled Liberty Ale from the same company instead.

It is called Liberty Ale because it was first bottled on April 18, 1975: the 200th anniversary of Mr. Paul Revere’s ride. (I should imagine having a beer christened in honor of one’s exploits should be very gratifying, indeed–I would prefer this to having a statue made in my honor!)

At home, I popped open the bottle and poured it into a glass. Nice light-amber color–like a translucent persimmon color. Not a real significant head, though there was pretty decent carbonation.

From Anchor Brewing Co.’s site:

A special top-fermenting ale yeast is used during fermentation and is responsible for many of Liberty Ale’s subtle flavors and characteristics. Carbonation is produced by an entirely natural process called “bunging,” which produces champagne-like bubbles. Dry-hopping (adding fresh hops to the brew during aging), imparts a unique aroma to the ale. It is a process rarely used in this country today.

The “nose” was extremely floral, with notes of sweet fruits, dates, honey. This was a delicious beer, with higher-than-average gravity and really nice carbonation. The dry-hopping definitely made a big impact, as the beer had a very fresh hoppiness that was less than an IPA but more than your typical ale. Crisp, but luscious. The mouthfeel was almost that of a nice off-dry riesling.

My sister got tipsy off the beer: a first, since she doesn’t really drink too much beer. An awesome, very satisfying beer, one that gets my highest recommendation. One that makes me cry out: “Give me Liberty Ale, or give me death!”

I took a few days off of work just to chill out and get my second wind, so to speak, before heading off to law school in July.  Thursday and Friday were spent with the family doing nothing in particular, so Saturday afternoon was ripe for something fun: Mission Wines with the co-workers was in order.

The official lineup for the day was:

 
The first, the 2006 Josef Leitz Drachenstein (Dragonstone) riesling was billed as a delicious, decently-priced riesling from the Rheingau region of Germany.  The Rheingau isn’t as famous as the Mosel, but it is home to the highest proportion of riesling vines in Germany.  It was a full, fat riesling, with lower but still substantial acidity and a fair bit of sweetness.  Overall, a fair-drinking riesling that, around $12-$15, is a safe bet for summer fare, Thai, or lovin’.

I was really looking forward to the 1996 R. Lopez de Heredia Vina Gravonia, which is a traditional-style white rioja made of 100% viura. 

Viura is a Spanish grape that apparently has a nose of flowers and the taste of green apples and nuts.  It also is best consumed young in most cases, as the grape is supposed to lose its nose and taste rather easily.  This fact makes the Vina Gravonia that much more unusual: it is deliberately stored by the winemaker for years until it is “ready”.  This prolonged aging in oak barrels sets Lopez de Heredia apart from many other Spanish wineries and, in fact, from many other winemakers period.

Unfortunately, I could not taste the magic of this wine.  The nose, indeed, was like a bouquet, and the taste was tart, with heavy hints of green apple.  However, there also seemed an acetic taste of banana, and a bit too much oak.  A bit too much acidity.  In fact, I likened the end taste to licking a AA battery (you’ve never done that?  My friend, you’ve never lived!) Overall, it was a disappointment, despite its renowned pedigree.

I think that the Vina Gravonia destroyed my taste buds and ruined the next two wines–they had a really bitter aftertaste that I would never expect to find in a Bordeaux or any red wine, for instance.

The last wine on the official tasting list was the 2005 Ridge Lytton Springs zinfandel, which is composed to 77% zin, 17% petite syrah, and 6% carignane.  It was strong enough to withstand the devastation of the Vina Gravonia, with firm tannins and nice structure.  Berries and cherry, maybe some licorice.  Jonathan detected a hint of menthol on the nose, which I sensed as well.  I was very pleased with this wine: it lived up to its prominent name.

Then, true to fashion, Dave poured two bonus tastes: the 2006 Cavallotto Dolcetto d’Alba from the Piedmont in Italy, and the 2006 Anthill Farm “Peters Vineyard” pinot noir.  The Dolcetto was very nice–smooth, a bit tannic.  Nice blueberry, a bit gamey–it threw a fair amount of sediment in my glass (though mine was the last glass poured).  The Anthill Farm was very, very light: almost clear, with the classic taste of cherry.  Very focused for such a clear-looking wine!

After the tastings, we had two bottles of wine on our own: the 2005 Ch. W. Bernhard Hackenheimer Kirchberg Scheurebe Spätlese and the 2005 Pago Florentino Tinto. 

The first was an utterly entrancing riesling from the Rheinhessen region of Germany.  Peaches, nectar–a gorgeous honeyed texture evocative of waves of silk.  Autumnal, evocative of the first golden falling leaves and the cold.  At around $22-$25, an excellent value for the pure hedonism of the wine.

The Pago Florentino, from the La Mancha appellation of Spain, is made of 100% tinto fino (tempranillo).  Overall, inky, with pronounced tannins.  Classic tempranillo–good price for a good example of this varietal for around $20.

We weren’t done, though.  We shared two 750 mL bottles of beer: the Delirium Tremens, which is a Belgian strong pale ale produced by Huyghe Brewery in Belgium.  It clocks in at a pretty strong 8.5% ABV.  It was a clear, golden color, light and pleasant.  It was like Hoegaarden but hoppier.

It was pleasant, but no match for Unibroue’s La Terrible (profiled two posts ago): this dark, 10.5% ABV monster destroyed any lingering bitterness from the wines and also destroyed the rest of my sobriety.  Delicious, delicious, and almost the last beer save a comped taste of Craftsman Brewery’s Biere de Mars (Beer of March).  Mission Wines has three of Craftsman’s beers on rotation at the bar.  I’ve previously had quite a few of their beers, including the memorable Cabernale from the holiday season.

The Biere de Mars was good–interesting, and good.  Strong licorice taste, hoppy.  Medium color, and high level of acidity.  Very refreshing. 

Now I leave you with some pictures of my coworkers and I: I’m the Asian guy in the blue “whale” shirt.  Enjoy!

I’ve had a fascination with Montreal ever since my brother, who went to school in New York, took a trip there and came back in love with its architecture, its food, and its French-Canadian girls (“Their accents are SOOOO hot!” he raved). As this recent New York Times article shows, the food in Montreal–poutine aside–is excellent. I leave the matter of beautiful women up to you, the reader, to determine first-hand.

But now I have another reason to venture up north of the border: beer.

I think most people think of Molsom or Labatt when they think of Canadian beer. This is unfortunate and may be as misguided as those who might think of Coors or Miller Lite when thinking of American beer.

My brother and I picked up a bottle of “La Terrible” from Unibroue the other day while browsing for a light spring drink (see: previous post on vinho verde). The reason for our selecting La Terrible wasn’t terribly scientific: my brother took one look at the bottle and said, “That looks cool–let’s get that bottle.” But I can’t blame him–the bottle DOES look pretty cool.

And the name embodies the rationale behind something like “A Boy Named Sue”: if you name your beer “The Terrible”, it has to be pretty damned good.

Unibroue is not based in Montreal per se but is in a town just about half an hour to the east (Chambly). What’s important to note is that this is a Quebecois beer (or a beer from Quebec, at least).

La Terrible is a Belgian strong dark ale, brewed with the lees (yeast and other sediment left at the bottom of the bottle). And it IS strong… terribly strong, in fact, coming in at a whopping 10.5% ABV. I was a bit afraid to open it because the drinking dynamics in my family pretty much necessitate that I have to drink most of whatever bottle we open up. But heck, it was after work, I had just come back from the gym, and I had nothing to do and no heavy machinery to operate. We popped the cork off the Terrible and poured it into a wine glass.

Very dark, though translucent. Actually a very nice burnt caramel color. It had a nice, substantial head.

The nose was fruity, with some malt and chocolate. Very fresh for such a strong-looking beer. Upon drinking, I was hit with its texture: a bit more viscous than I was used to in my beers, with a sort of winy finish. Beautiful, beautiful flavor. Raisiny, with a not-unpleasant note of copper. A bit of tartness, almost sharp, that was leavened with the beer’s smoothness.

What was remarkable was that it was not a hot beer at all, as one could reasonably expect from a beer with 10.5% ABV. I couldn’t taste the alcohol at all–rather, I couldn’t taste the alcohol more than I would be able to in any other dark beer.

This is a beer for wine drinkers. It is complex, possesses a great nose and a fruity, winy taste, offers a fascinating mouthfeel, and has a smooth, satisfying finish. It also has a price similar to that of wine ($8.99).

Upon drinking, I pronounced to my family that this was “the most delicious beer I’ve ever had in my life.” That is a pretty strong statement and since making that statement I’ve reevaluated my words–still, I’ve determined that this is a very quality, very delicious beer, one that I would drink again and did, in fact, drink again this past Saturday. But that is another story for another posting!