AD: Are you ready to go?

me: Not yet. What song is in your head right now.

AD: The one we talked about this morning, from the About a Boy soundtrack.

me: A Minor Incident? I can't put that on blogschu, way too depressing. The song's a suicide note. I need a music monday track.

AD: Well we were listening to Silver Sun Pickups before.

me: Awesome, I've never heard of them!

So here dear readers is a song that I will hear for the first time along with you. I hope it's a good driving tune. Thanks Anne, let's go home!

Food texture seems to be described most often in negatives terms, like mushy or slimy, or, for example, as an explanation for one's dislike of oysters or liver. As in, 'It's a texture thing.' 

Last weekend I had an exceptional meal that was all about texture, in a good way.

Though bushi-tei is 15 min from my house, has been open for four years and has earned a Michelin star, I am a bit embarassed to admit I never heard of it until last Saturday. I was in search of a quiet place in a quiet part of town to avoid San Francisco's Halloween mayhem and take my husband on a date, and the good people at open table found me a gem.

The people were lovely, the tiny space beautifully decorated, but it was all about the food, billed as French California fushion. Everything was delicious and so original, but the thing I noticed most was that Chef Seiji Wakabayashi is a master of texture. 

While the flavors were wonderful, what I kept commenting on were the great textures - the crab and lobster salad with chysanthemum leaf, papaya and small cubes of chewy bacon was my hands-down favorite. One for the 'last meal' menu, easily. A rich shrimp risotto topped with strips of rare-seared ahi and fried shallots was cruncy, creamy and fresh all at once. Slices of duck breast topped with mascarpone mustard, dried chutney and mizuna. Such unique combinations of flavors and textures, all of which worked really well. We chose a white rhone that itself had a fat, melony texture but pretty crisp finish that played nicely with both the rich and delicate flavors of the dishes.

This is the reason I love to eat out - here was a meal I could never reproduce at home. A delightful discovery.

A warm, still night is a rare thing in San Francisco, rarer still in November, so it would have been a crime to stay in last night. It was one of those spectacular evenings, complete with a full moon, that gets every restaurant in town to drag tables onto the sidewalk and inspires thousands of locals to take an evening stroll.

My husband and I headed to Mario's in North Beach, a tiny bar/cafe overlooking Washington Square Park that has been making simple, utterly perfect foccacia sandwiches in a pizza oven behind the bar since the Beats hung out here.

The far end of the bar was packed with people who seemed to be carrying Halloween over an extra day, dressed in crazy hats and garish costumes, loudly toasting and tossing back cheap chianti in juice glasses.  We looked around to see six of the cafe's eight tables were full, and one more was stacked with three accordians and a snare drum.

We made a bee line for the remaining table, and asked the bartender if a band was planning to play. "I have no idea," she said, "this carnival just rolled in."

Upon closer inspection, the "carnival" group of about a dozen oddly-clad baby-boomers included several whose faces were painted as skulls, and it clicked. This was a Day of the Dead party.

I love this holiday, with its tradition of celebrating lost family members with their favorite food and drink.  Years ago we held a Day of the Dead celebration at the winery, building an altar with photos of the first four generations of Gundlachs and Bundschus, leaving them cups of Rhinefarm wines of course, and inviting guests to decorate sugar skulls and spread marigold petals. On that day, my then-five-year old nephew, little ham that he is, sang a song about el dia de los muertos to the crowd in spanish and english. 

I was trying to remember the tune to that song while tucking into my eggplant sandwich, when one of the accordion players hopped on a chair and started directing the other musicians. The plan was to start by playing Spanish Ladies, then listen for Lou's cue to lead them into the Beer Barrel Polka.  Two thoughts caused me to spin around in my chair. First, what on earth do those songs have to do with Day of the Dead?  And second, was that Lou, as in Big Lou the Accordion Princess, who played for club members at our German Wine Garden harvest party?  Why yes it was, and she was leading the procession out the door and down the street. I shouldn't be surprised, how big is the accordian community in the Bay Area anyway?

After dinner, we strolled around the park and neighborhood for a while, and we kept crossing paths with Lou and her skeleton crew, still repeating those same two tunes in each cafe and restaurant they visited like some odd mexican-polka-pub-crawl.  I guess we should have dined in the Mission if we wanted a traditional celebration.

With that annoying polka chorus stuck in my head hours later, I went online determined to find my nephew's song. No dice, but I was fascinated to find that there is a song about the holiday by my one of my high-school-era favorites, Siouxsie and the Banshees.  Probably about as appropriate as polka, but far preferable, to me anyway.

For as long as anyone around here can remember (and trust me, that's a while), the end of the grape harvest on Rhinefarm has been celebrated with a big carnitas party. The whole tribe gathers for the feast, bringing families, friends, and delicious foods to the big potluck, staying late to eat, drink and dance despite the first opportunity for a full night's sleep. The tradition is so strong it is the theme of the mural painted along the winery's east wall.

 
In years past, the vineyard crew would spend the day roasting a pig for carnitas. They'd buy the pig whole, sometimes alive, and even make the chicharron, while home-cooked sides and desserts were brought for the potluck. Music would be provided by a traditional mariachi band in full regalia, many of the men singing along, while much of the sales and winery staff bravely attempted unfamiliar dances. A beautiful party, with generous spirit and sentiment attempting to cross language and cultural barriers on both sides, aided by the transcendent power of tequila.

Times have changed. The party last night was attended by multiple generations of employees,   conversations flowing between languages and generations. The wonderful carnitas were prepared by a local caterer and eagerly consumed by all (pairing excellently with the gewurztraminer and merlot I might add, as well as the Dos Equis). Among the platters of Nancy Bundschu's roasted peppers and the many homemade salads and baked pies were a few takeout tubs and store-bought cookies thoughtfully purchased by a desperately busy team. The current vineyard manager prefers a dj to traditional mariachi, and the music crossed all possible genres, often in a single song, bringing everyone to the dance floor. When Jim Bundschu brought out the broom, a hilarious game of hot potato ensued - no one had use for a stand-in partner, but took the opportunity to ham it up a bit with props.

Traditions evolve.  There are those who look at life and are nostalgic for past glory days, or lament the pace and changes of modern life. Despite all the history on Rhinefarm, that has never been the culture at Gundlach Bundschu. When it comes to traditions like this celebration, getting everyone together for a big meal is the only requirement. That, and letting the younger people choose the music, which tends to get the place hopping.

Watching the dancers from the perimeter, Jim had a momentary shock when he turned to Jeff and realized that in over 30 years of throwing this party, this was the first time he hadn't brought a bottle of tequila. Hadn't even occured to him. It wasn't missed. Everyone was already celebrating together. Like family does.

Sorry foodies for skipping Thursday. I was in Houston reliving great meals at The Grove.  And, of course, seeing U2. Again. But never have I seen them do anything quite this funky. This video is from a show a few months ago in Dublin, but it seems the cameraman was standing within about 20 feet of my own vantage point for the show, albeit with a zoom lens.

Fwiw, the people of Houston have way more rhythm, and the relatively young crowd around me went positively nuts for this remixed version of a brand new song. Pretty impressive feat for a 25-year-old band not known for dance tunes.

An honorable mention for openers Muse, who rocked more than I could have expected. They made a lot of new fans that night.

This time of year, we usually see lots of news stories about our local weather and projections for quality and size of the wine grape crops. But the news regarding the 2009 harvest seems to be less about the vintage itself than the state of the business. It’s been a fantastic year for quality so far, but economically, things are tough this 09 season.

Independent grape growers are worried about selling their vineyard’s produce at all – forget profiting from their year’s toils; break even is their battle cry. There are roughly 30% fewer white tablecloth establishments across the U.S. than there were in 2008; wine list sales are way down. Wineries are cautious about purchasing grapes, and when they do, they are mostly not willing to pay as much as it costs to grow the finest grapes. This scenario is not unique to the wine industry; times have been economically tough all around.

We at Gundlach Bundschu feel we have a different perspective than most any other producer, and it is a result of our family’s longevity. One hundred fifty one years of growing wine have brought it all – phylloxera, fires, earthquakes, prohibition, the Great Depression, wars, Bernie Madoff and more, in addition to the cyclical uncertainties of farming and business.

At Gundlach Bundschu, we need only look over our shoulders to see how previous generations survived tough times. They constantly pursued quality and value in their wines, buttressed by their confidence in the joy wine provides to you. Our family has been able to stay the course, to enjoy it even, through all the calamities. This has been the constant that we have over time learned to rely on for six generations.

At times such as this, it is easy to stray from the right path. Undoubtedly decisions are being made throughout the wine industry that compromise quality in the pursuit of savings and stability. But history tells us those that invest in quality strengthen their business and are better off in the long run.

We are, as this is being written, in the middle of harvest on Rhinefarm. We have finished picking gewürztraminer, chardonnay and pinot noir and we are awaiting the maturing merlot, zinfandel and cabernet. If you visited us this harvest you would have witnessed new winemaking techniques and seen new equipment in use, all improving the gentle handling and rigorous inspection of grapes to improve our wines’ quality and therefore your enjoyment of them.

Briefly explained, a new technique with gewürztraminer. We rented a cold storage container into which we placed 30% of the fruit harvested, freezing them at 30°F. The resulting juice should reflect more intensity, more body and less astringency. The theory, brand new to the industry, is the cell walls closest to the grape skins will break down as they freeze due to expansion. This releases more of the berry’s positive components and allows the grapes to be pressed more gently, thereby avoiding the astringent agents that are released with heavy pressing.

Next, to Pinot Noir. Undoubtedly you have heard that of all the red grape varietals, this is the one that needs to be spoiled, pampered and treated gently. We purchased a new grape receiver in 2008 that allows us to unload bins of pinot noir onto a sorting table to check fruit and slowly deliver it to the vibrating destemmer. This year, once the plump, whole, uncrushed berries are shaken free of their stem, they are caught in another bin, and then poured directly into a fermentation tank. Not once in this process have the berries been roughed up by an augor or a pump.

Yet one more innovation this season. In our main fermentation tanks, we have installed meshed screening devices for the purpose of keeping the grape seeds away from the draining valve. Seeds are extremely astringent, and if they are broken or crushed by the impellers of a pump, their astringency goes directly into your wine. The screens prevent the seeds from being sucked into the hoses when freshly fermented wine is transferred or pumped.

These are just some of the innovations our new winemaker Keith Emerson proposed introducing to our winemaking regimen when we first discussed having him join the team, back when the economy was still in high cotton. All of us at GB are proud that we are able to stay focused on the golden ring and implement these improvements this year.

Those generations that preceded us set the pace – continue the pursuit of the highest quality wines, and your best customers will be there for you. You have been since 1858. Thank you, WOMers.

I attended my first rock concert in 1985. It was just a few months after U2's The Unforgettable Fire was released, and I had been playing it several times a day for months. That show was possibly the best night of my fifteen-year-old existence to that point. 

In the years since, I've been lucky enough to see them many times, and lots of other fantastic shows as well. But there is nothing quite like a U2 show. If I had the time (or thought you cared), I'd write pages about the many reasons why I continue to find their shows, music and people so compelling, or try to pull out some b-sides or other interesting nuggets for you. But given that I am taking a few days off this week to go another state to see them, well, I'm swamped.

So for one quick music monday, I'll just share a song I am looking forward to hear live for the first time in what has to be over a decade. The Unforgettable Fire is apparently a fixture on the setlist this tour.  It's always been one of my favorites off that old favorite record, but it seems tough to pull off live, both due to the difficulty of the orchestration (Edge to play piano and guitar simultaneously?) to the buzzkill tempo for a stadium show. But its a gorgeous piece of music, and I can't wait to hear it again.

I consider myself an omnivore.  While there are many things I choose not to eat, I can eat and enjoy almost anything that can reasonably be considered to be food (reality show stunts need not apply).

I credit my adventurous palate to my parents, both excellent cooks, who set only two rules in regard to food:

1. You cannot refuse to eat something you've never tried. If after three tries you decide you don't like something, you never have to eat it again, as long as you cook your own alternative.

2. When a guest in someone's home, rule #1 doesn't count. Always eat what you are served, graciously.

A fair and polite policy, though rule #1 was tested beyond what you might expect in your average American suburban household, (i.e. a traditional spanish dish of pig's feet, ears & tail stewed with cabbage was a staple), and rule #2 almost killed me when travelling in Asia (eating dried yak cheese or dog were never part of the bargain). But I digress...

I believe in these rules so strongly that I am somewhat intolerant of picky eaters (and accomodating parents). I find YUCK to be the most offensive of four-letter words. So it embarrases me greatly that there is one thing that I have a reputation for refusing to eat.

Those who know me know I dislike foie gras and frown on veal, but I have smiled through many a serving, especially in this line of work.  But the thing I just can't choke down in any situation is cilantro.

I find cilantro to be positively poisonous. It not only kills the taste of wine, it kills the taste of food, overwhelming everything with its pungent algae stink and soapy taste.

I've debated this with many tireless champions of the stuff, and it seems to me that no one is lukewarm on the stuff - you either love it or detest it. True? I'm taking a poll.. 

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Music Monday on Friday! During our Indie Rock Concert back in August, The Fruit Bats used the dining room of our barrel cave for their 'green room,' hanging out and enjoying some Gun Bun wines before they took the stage. They used it as a bit of a studio too, filming a video of two acoustic songs. 

The video was just posted on AOL's spinner, literally the biggest music site in the world, and it sounds incredible!  Huge thanks to Caleb Morairty and yourstru.ly for sharing this video with us.

Last week while out peddling Gundlach Bundschu wines with the wonderful Robert G. from our local wholesaler, he introduced me to Lucas, the chef and L-half of K & L Bistro in Sebastopol. I've not yet had a bite of food from their kitchen, but it is my new favorite restaurant.

I love funky little Sebastopol, but given my daily route across three counties, I rarely make it out 'west' and was unfamiliar with the charms of K & L.  Lucas and his wife Karen own and operate this cozy brick bistro that from the minute you walk in, you can feel is a stellar local place.

Robert, Lucas and I tasted and talked wine, of course, but mostly we talked about food. What I absolutely love about showing wines to chefs is that they usually aren't interested in discussing oak regimens or soil types. Instead, they taste wines and talk about what they would eat with them.  We discussed the lamb Lucas and some friends were planning to roast in his yard, the best place in Spain for cochinillo, and the vanilla beans one of their regular customers brought them back from a trip to Asia (Karen was making extract in the kitchen).

We at the winery often describe our favorite restaurants as 'culinary equivalents,' meaning owner-operated, local-favorite kind of places, where passionate people make original and delicious things.  Like us. We get each other, and appreciate what the other is doing, and usually our food and wine complement one another best too. I am delighted that K & L Bistro now offers their guests our gewurztraminer and pinot noir (thanks Lucas!) and I cannot wait for the night I can make it out there for dinner. 

Support your local owner-operated restaurants! And show some love to your favorites - comment here with their name/link to help spread the word.