A few years ago my wife and I were making our way through Berlin with the kids. Now, there are both good and bad things about that, but one which we found quite civilized were some of the little kiosk news stands which are littered throughout the city. In most respects they seemed to be normal news kiosks. They differed in one important way, however, which is that you can buy a small glass of Prosecco with your morning (or, preferably, evening) news. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Prosecco is a type of Italian sparkling wine, like a champagne, a little on the sweet side but quite pleasant, really.
Now, the Moral Majority would find that nothing short of reprehensible, but I for one think of it as charmingly sophisticated. How relaxing to purchase a newspaper or magazine in the late afternoon, a small glass of Prosecco, and sit down on a sunny bench to find out what’s happening in the world. Unfortunately, as it was winter there were very few sunny corners to be found, and in fact a number of the kiosks we passed were closed. It seemed like such a pleasant idea, though.
Now, kiosks throughout Germany sell booze, so that’s no great surprise. In Munich you can buy a half liter of beer or a small airplane bottle of schnapps at many such kiosks, but to me that seems more like the last refuge of an alcoholic than a nice way to spend an afternoon (and anyone who reads this knows that I like beer, and even schnapps).
No, there’s something about the prosecco booth which appeals to me.
Now, if only we had one here in Philadelphia.

I was looking through some photos the other day and I saw the following picture of the Yard’s brewhouse, discussed in this earlier post.. Thought some of you might be interested.

Since we were on the topic of wine, wine and the church, particularly the Catholic Church, are inextricably entwined. Both have a strong – if somewhat dysfunctional – relationship to the south of France.
Avignon, of course, was the seat of a number of popes until Gregory decided enough was enough and absconded with the furniture and the papacy back to Rome, leaving an empty palace and a woefully undersized cathedral. He – or rather, his predecessors – also left behind a legacy of wine which rewards us to this day.
One of the most famous of these regions, of course, is centered around Chateauneuf-du-Papes, part of the Cotes du Rhone. Chateauneuf-du-Papes is an interesting little town with the ruins of the papal chateau looming above. At this point, there’s more vineyard than chateau, but the view from the top is magnificent. We were here for more than just the view, however, so we stopped in at both the highly regarded Dieux Telegraphe and Clos des Papes for a taste or two. Although these two wineries (and this region) are much more well known, the tastings were still surprisingly low-key and uncrowded. Suffice it to say we left with two bottles of each and a warm feeling for those wine-drinking clerics of yore.

I think of a lot of things when I think of France, but hot weather is not one of them. Nonetheless, is was a hot and sunny day when I decided it was time to check out some wine while in the south of France, and I have to say it was worth every minute.
Our first stop was a place called Viason-la-Romaine. I’m guessing that the “Romaine” refers to Rome, as there are allegedly some lovely ruins there. Our minds were on the wine, however, so we wandered only briefly through the lovely medieval town before heading off on the road towards Gigondas. We were sure to pass a number of little wineries and cooperatives.
One of my favorites was Clos des Cazaux, just outside of Gigondas. It didn’t look promising to start – a long, dusty road wound its way down to a house (not a chateau, mind you, but a farmhouse, albeit a pretty one). Arriving, we had the distinct feeling we were had stumbled into someone’s home as we looked around for anything remotely like a tasting room. Just as we were considering a hasty, slightly embarassed retreat, a little old lady came out of the house, greeted us like long lost friends, and ushered us into the large barn-like building to the side. A tiny sign read “Caveaux,” to educate those who could find it.
Once in the barn we gathered in a small, stone-walled room filled with barrels, open to display bottles of the different varieties of wine. In the corner was a small bar with numerous bottles, labelled and unlabeled, and a tap. As we struggled to communicate, two Americans with a minimal knowledge of French and an older Frenchwoman with equal knowledge of English, the two of us enjoyed a tasting as far removed from the usual mass-production tastings as one could hope for. Now that’s what travel is about.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a city dweller, with a small, unreliable FIAT parked in the garage down the street. Over the weekend I went down to check the status of that particular vehicle (it didn’t start, of course) and I ran into the neighbor who owns the garage. We started chatting and he offered me … a Miller Lite.
Now, I’m a fan of all sorts of beers, but as a general rule Miller is not one of them. In spite of that, I drank a couple with him while we chatted about neighborhood gossip, our planned renovations, raising kids in the city, and the usual things on chats about over a beer with the neighbor.
Truth be told, Miller Lite’s still not my beer of choice, but it was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

I’ve travelled to different wineries across the US and Europe (although not California – yet), and I have to say one of the ones I enjoyed the most was Barboursville, in the wine region of Virginia. For those of you who don’t know it yet, Virginia has developed a reputation for good wines, and it’s deserved, at least in part. To be honest, there are some pretty mediocre wines from Virginia (no, I’m not going to link to any), but there are some very good ones as well. Barboursville is one of the good ones.
Not far from the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, the winery is set on a rural road on the former estate of James Barbour, one of the early governors of Virginia. The ruins of the governor’s erstwhile mansion are still on the property, and it’s a great place to relax with a bottle of newly purchased wine and some good cheese. My preference is the red wines, not surprising given that a major investor is a winery out of Italy, but they also make a very nice dessert wine.
The town of Barboursville is little more than a couple of houses and a church, but a trip to Barboursville can be combined nicely with a trip to Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s self-designed home and plantation. If you haven’t had enough of politicos you can also see Montpelier, James Madison’s nearby plantation. If you prefer to stay in a town setting, both Staunton and Charlottesville are charming towns. Either way, there’s history, culture, wine, and the natural beauty of rural Virginia. Surely that’s enough for a long weekend.

Last week I was up in the north of Germany, a part of the country which is wildly underappreciated amongst the tourist crowd. That’s better for me, I suppose, but there are some great areas up there.
One of the strange things about the north of Germany is that there is no single drink for which the area is known. The weather isn’t good enough for wine, so that’s a non-starter. They drink a lot (and I mean a lot) of spirits of various sorts, but there’s no single spirit which is really associated with the area. I did have Elbaquavit, an aquavit from a small local provider north of Hamburg which was, well, a bit rough around the edges, but ultimately aquavit is more of a Danish drink than a German one. The best known German spirits tend to come from the south, including the wonderful products of Schladerer mentioned before.
The north also has a lot of great beers, but it’s not really known for them. I’m a big fan of Jever, from a town near the border with the Netherlands, and I also enjoy Flensburger Pils, on the border with Denmark. I’m also a big fan of Dithmarscher, although I prefer the Ditmarscher Urtyp and Dunkel to the Pilsener. Although Jever is part of the Becks brewing empire, and is increasingly available in the US, the others are from two of the few small, privately held breweries left in Germany these days. One of these days I’ll see if they’ll let me in for a tour …
Of course, with all of the ports up in the north, there are also a host of different imports, but then those aren’t really local, now are they? Calvados, Portuguese wine, Baltika Beer, I’ve had a multitude of interesting drinks from all over the world, but none really representative of the north. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with not having a signature drink.

Apparently there’s a show called “Mythbusters” on the Discovery Channel, and they had an alcohol quiz in honor of St Patrick’s Day. Check it out here.

Thanks to Tony for sending me the link.

Depending on your spirit of choice, you may think I’m going to write about Scotch, or perhaps Aquavit, but no, I’m not. Before one of my recent trips to Germany, a friend of mine who is interested in such things asked me whether there were any good German eau-de-vie’s, and I had to honestly answer that I didn’t know. I had tried any of a number of different schnaps, aperitifs, and digestifs while in Germany, but truth be told I really hadn’t paid attention to where they were from or which ones were better than others. I resolved, in the face of this question, to find out.
Fortunately, I have just the friend for that kind of question and I was visiting him on that very trip. So, he suggested I try any of the various products of a small distillery from the Black Forest called Schladerer. Fortunately for me, Schladerer makes a nice little sampler box of its most popular eau-de-vie, so I bought two of them and brought them home for a good, old-fashioned taste off.
And taste we did, coming to the conclusion that there are indeed good German eau-de-vie. We both liked the kirschwasser best, a clear cherry brandy. In fact, the inspiration for this post is the glass of same I had this evening from the full-sized bottle I bought on my last trip. The others were good as well, with my preference, from most enjoyable to least, as follows: Williams pear, raspberry, apricot, then plum.
I’m not sure if Schladerer’s products are available in the US (they are not available in the People’s Republic of Pennsylvania, where the liquor stores are state-run), but if you see a bottle by all means, give it a try.

So, from one set of tunnels to another, today I’ve decided to meander back to beer, and back to the Czech Republic, for another look at Pilsen.
In Pilsen, the Pilsner Urquell brewery’s not the only game in town, and for those interested in the brewing process the Pilsen brewery museum is a must. Housed in a small complex of houses in town, and now part of the Pilsner Urquell domain, the brewery museum was once a very small local brewery.
Visitors can walk through the small malting room, with its tile floors and low, arched ceilings. The well in the quarter provided the water needed for the brewing process. The malt dryer is covered with pungent malt, which I pushed around smoothed out and generally played with using the various old tools which are part of the museum’s display. Fun, yes, but instructive as well.
Similar to the Pilsner Urquell brewery, this small museum has steps leading down to a small fermenting room and, below it, the lagering tunnel. At all of 100 ft., the cellars are perhaps less impressive than those at the brewery, but it’s easy to get a good understanding of the mechanics of brewing. These tunnels were cooled by large chunks of ice which were left at the top of the stairs leading to the tunnel. As the ice melted the cold water ran down into the tunnels thereby keeping them cool. I guess they only brewed in winter. This brewery brewed around 5600 Hectoliters a year, about what Pilsner Urquell brews in one day.