I see a lot of wacky things in my travels, so it takes a lot to surprise me. This just blew my mind with a mix of shock, incredulity and yes, a tiny bit of envy. I took these photos on a city street in the middle of the fifth largest city in Japan. Oh and incase you missed it, yes this oversized man on an undersized gocart is rockin’ a Yoshi backpack.

Walking through the doors of The Upper House, life slows down a beat or two. The minuscule lobby is more like a decompression chamber to shed a little energy before taking a serene ride up an escalator designed to mimic a row of torrii gates. There is no front desk in the traditional sense because the “paper-less” checkin is handled in your room via an iPad.

Housing 117 guest rooms between the 38th and 47th floors of a building shared with the Marriott, The Upper House isn’t exactly a boutique hotel, and yet everything from the Andre Fu designed interior to the personalized service says otherwise. Despite its size and an occupancy rate of 92% during my stay, the halls of The House were virtually empty, giving me the feeling that I had the place all to myself.

The odd shape of the building proved challenging, but designer Andre Fu made brilliant use of the space

During my tour of the hotel, my guide Michelle informed me that housekeeping is deliberately hidden from the guests. Sure enough, a mental rewind through my stay revealed that I hadn’t once seen someone in a maid uniform or even an errant pushcart loaded with towels. Curious how they pulled this off, I asked how they did it. “That’s a secret!”, she replied with a sly smile, implying that it was a trade secret that set them apart from their competition.

Indeed, there are many things that set The Upper House apart from their competition. Most notably, the beer, mineral water, juice and soft drinks are free! There are also mason jars filled with mini packs of almonds, M&Ms, Milano Cookies, and Mentos for you to snack on without having to worry about the bill upon checkout. That’s not all that’s free. There’s the wifi, espresso and even yoga classes on weekends.

Sure, these may seem like trivial amenities given rack rates that starts at $4,000 HKD (about $500 USD), but how many hotels can you name that don’t try to nickel and dime you after you’ve paid a handsome sum to stay in their boring beige rooms?

Lurking behind those blinds is a view of Hong Kong

In a city where space = luxury, the guest rooms at The Upper House were made for royalty. Even the smallest Studio 70 room features 730sq ft of space to sprawl out in, not to mention a bathroom that gives you views over Hong Kong. Matte finished oak floors with generous use of oak veneer, and curvy commissioned sculptures from artisans all over Asia give the rooms a warm welcoming feel despite their large footprint. It’s the kind of room you don’t feel bad about lounging around in all day.

The view from the bathtub

My only gripe with the room was the toilet. I know this sounds nit-picky, but hear me out. I don’t expect much from a toilet. It’s there to serve a very simple function. When choosing the toilet to install, they clearly prioritized design over function, either that or they planned to cater to Yao Ming sized clientele. My pork belly-fed size-33 bum isn’t small by any standard, and yet the gargantuan orifice on this toilet tried its best to swallow me. It makes me wonder how many small Asians these gaping latrines have swallowed over the years.

But alas I have to forgive them for this small lapse in judgement because every other aspect of the hotel was diligently thought out to make you feel at home. Remote controls open and close the curtains that cover wall-to-wall windows. Controls on either side of the mammoth bed turn off every light in the room so I didn’t have to spend my final waking moments fumbling around the room without my contacts looking for a hidden light switch. When the free beer had passed through my system around 3am, a quick glance to my nearest night stand revealed the warm glow of a night light button which provided just enough illumination to guide me to the toilet without searing my eyeballs with the blinding light of a thousand suns.

I woke up to this view

Even the elevators are a little different at The House. When one arrives, a hearty chime reminiscent of a manorly doorbell lets you know it’s there. When I first arrived and stepped into the elevator, I pressed the button for my floor and my finger instinctively searched for a close button. The doors closed before I was able to find it because there is no close button. I found myself mildly annoyed feeling like I’d just been robbed of a precious few tenths of a second.

But in a city with turbocharged escalators and moving walkways to get you somewhere just a few seconds faster, my initial annoyance soon turned to admiration for the level dedication to their ethos of slowing life down when you enter their doors. And you know what? By the time I left, I stopped hunting for the close button, content to simply ride the elevator, not control it.

The attention to detail spans to their restaurant on the top floor. Cafe Gray is spacious, taking advantage of the building’s angular shape to break up the large space without feeling cavernous. The service is prompt yet genuinely friendly, and most importantly the food is good. When I say “good” I don’t mean “good for a hotel restaurant”, I mean it’s good by any standard.

This probably has to do with the fact that it’s helmed by Gray Kunz, the celebrated chef of Lespinasse in New York during its heyday. Kunz, who grew up in Singapore to an Irish mother and Swiss father, is intimately familiar with both Eastern and Western cuisines. Ruth Reichl, perhaps said it best in her review of Lespinasse: “…as if he had an instinctive understanding of each of his ingredients. He combines them, coaxes new tastes from them and yet maintains such firm control that no single flavor ever dominates a dish.”

For breakfast one morning I had the Upper West Breakfast, which included two eggs poached to perfection on a slice of toast with the crusts neatly cut off. Impossibly crisp American bacon expertly straddled the line between crispy and burnt which juxtaposed char grilled English loin bacon, tender with a different kind of smoky. Even the tangy baked beans were delicious, served in a crusty grilled cup of cornbread. The meal was rounded out by a trio of citrus, each segment peeled and dressed with passion fruit, along with a wide assortment of breads and pastries.

What really blew me away though was the marmalade that came with the bread. It was mild, not too sweet and lacked all but a hint of bitterness. The black sparkle of vanilla beans balanced out the sharp citrus with a floral note that really showed Kunz’s technical mastery of ingredients.

Chocolate Chip Banana Pancakes at Cafe Gray

Breakfast the next day was a stack of light fluffy chocolate chip and banana pancakes with a big scoop of maple butter. The chunks of melted dark chocolate added a slightly bitter note, keeping the dish from being too rich or cloying and the Ladyfinger bananas were bruléed with a thin crispy shell of caramelized sugar.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to have dinner there, but my experiences at breakfast and afternoon tea made me wish I had one more night to indulge in their winter prix fixe menu which included items such as a pumpkin velouté with lobster tartar and truffle roasted poullarde with a foie gras truffle jus.

While there are many mirages in the upscale hotel market, The Upper House is truly an urban oasis that offers a tranquil respite in a bustling metropolis.

The Upper House
Pacific Place, 88 Queensway, Admiralty, Hong Kong
+852 2918 1838
Book a stay

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Full disclosure: The Upper House comped part of my stay at the hotel. While I strive to provide you with honest, unfiltered opinions on this site, the federal government requires that I disclose this relationship with you.

When I mentioned on Twitter that I’d be heading to Hong Kong for a few days, the food recommendations came pouring in. Everyone had a favorite, but the one place I consistently heard as a must-go spot was Mak’s Noodle for their Wonton Noodles. It’s a third generation Hong Kong institution and while the one on Wellington street is a reincarnation of the original, they’ve started sprouting branches all over Hong Kong.

Since I was in Hong Kong to research some food stories, my first day was literally crammed with a gut-busting food crawl across Kowloon. My plan was to cram in as much food as I could during the day and keep dinner light with a bowl of Mak’s Noodles. Unfortunately a very long wait at The Peninsula had turned afternoon tea into evening tea and I decided to wander around the Kowloon waterfront before heading back back to Hong Kong island.

This delay along with a few wrong turns meant I showed up at Mak’s around 8pm, right as they were lowering the shutters for the evening. Still not hungry, but unwilling to forgo a meal during my short visit, I wandered up and down Wellington Street checking out the food options.

One of my guiding principals when looking for good food in a foreign country is to avoid places that are filled with foreigners. I also like to make like Toucan Sam and follow my nose because it always knows! That meant I walked right past the Middle Eastern joint filled with Europeans, and the handful of places that were empty and smelled like stale grease.

Tsim Chai Kee caught eye because it was brimming with locals packed into community tables like sardines. As I walked past the door, the sweet perfume of a good broth grabbed me by the nose and forced my legs to take a few steps back to keep myself from falling over. It also happens to be directly across the street from Mak’s Noodle.

After a brief wait, I was squeezed in between a couple with a baby and a group of college-aged boys, all slurping noodles out of relatively small bowls. Perfect, considering how full I still was. The vibrant yellow noodles covered a bed of wontons with some scallions on top for garnish. When my noodles arrived, my disappointment at not being able to eat at Mak’s quickly dissipated as my first slurp sucked up a mouthful of the firmest noodles I’ve ever eaten with a perfectly balanced broth.

The noodles were thinner than a Benetton model and yet they had more fortitude than Muhammad Ali. To call them crunchy would be odd, but they had a firm toothsome texture that made every bite a smile inducing experience. Under the noodles lay a generous bed of large wontons, each one containing a large shrimp that rivaled the noodles in firmness. The soup had a great balance of pork and seafood with just a hint of sweetness. Sip after sip, I couldn’t help but admire the balance and depth of flavor that can only develop when given enough time.

Happy at the chance encounter and digestive tract about to blow a gasket, I rolled myself back to the hotel for the evening, promising myself I’d be back earlier the next night to try Mak’s Noodle.

The next night as I walked towards Mak’s Noodle, I noticed that Tsim Chai Kee was once again buzzing with locals, with a line coming out the door at 7pm. Across the street, there was only one occupied table. Against my better judgement I walked in and sat down.

Looking around, I saw a brightly colored dining room bathed in the hospital glow of aggressive fluorescent lighting, it screamed “old school noodle shop”, a good sign, I thought. What wasn’t a good sign was that the one table of customers was occupied by Japanese tourists. I also couldn’t help but notice the size of the bowls they were eating from, about the size of a large tea cup. I wondered if there was a child’s menu I wasn’t aware of.

After asking about it, I was told they were deliberately small to prevent the noodles from going soggy. A brilliant idea in theory, but the minuscule bowl at Mak’s cost $1.70 USD more than Tsim Chai Kee for about half the quantity. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind paying a premium for premium food, but this disparity seemed dubious at best. I ended up ordering a bowl of wonton noodles and their pork chutney noodles which also came highly recommended.

Had I not eaten across the street the night before I would have said the noodles at Mak’s were pleasantly al dente, but they were literally pale and limp in comparison. Mak’s wonton’s also contained a whole shrimp, but they were smaller and softer.

While a bowl of wonton soup without MSG would be akin to Disneyland without Micky Mouse, its use in Mak’s soup was heavy handed. It literally covered up the flavors of the dried flounder, pork and shrimp in the broth with a cloying umami that lingers on your tongue long after you’ve finished eating. It wasn’t that the wonton noodles at Mak’s Noodle were bad, they just weren’t as good as the ones at Tsim Chai Kee.

Thankfully, there is a bright spot at Mak’s. The pork chutney noodles were delicious. The meat was tough, almost like beef jerky, but it was a pleasant kind of tough that makes you work for the flavor, much like the firm noodles that lay underneath. The sweet and spicy sauce provided a nice balance to the fatty pork and firm noodles.

If you find yourself on Wellington street hungry, head to Mak’s for the pork chutney noodles, and then across the street for a bowl of Tsim Chai Kee’s wonton noodle soup.

Mak’s Noodle 麥奀雲吞麵世家
77 Wellington Street, Central, Hong Kong
11am – 8pm

Tsim Chai Kee 沾仔记
98, Wellington St. Central, Hong Kong
8am – 10pm

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As much as I love traveling, staying in hotels night after night gets tiresome quickly. It’s around this time that I crave the comforts of home: like knowing how to turn off the lights, having a dock for my iPhone, and waking up in a bed that doesn’t make my back hurt.

This last trip to Singapore, was no exception. The Singapore Tourism Board flew me out to check out the booming food scene in the city-state. While the itinerary was full of fantastic sights and delicious food, the hotel they put me up in left a bit to be desired. I decided to tack on a few extra days to the trip to visit friends, and switched hotels to the Fullerton Bay Hotel.

I chose the Fullerton Bay because I’d heard that the Andre Fu designed interior was a real looker. It turns out that I was well advised as from the moment you walk through the doors to the historic Clifford Pier to the moment you arrive in your room, you’re surrounded by an alluring luxury that’s not understated but not gaudy either.

What I didn’t expect is that the rooms themselves are truly exceptional, not just to look at, but to sleep in as well. Every detail from the location of light switches, to slippers that actually fit my feet, to a Nespresso machine with decaf options was well thought out and flawlessly executed.

It’s the kind of place where you feel at home from the moment you walk in the door; except someone comes to clean your room everyday, a call to the front desk gets all your needs met, and a balcony in every room gives you a million dollar view of Marina Bay Sands.

Click the photo to view the full size panorama

In a country where service comes with a smile, the management at Fullerton has taken the care to up the ante by hiring people who genuinely want to be helpful, not because they have to be. Did the staff go the extra mile because they knew a judgmental journalist was staying with them? Probably, but you’d be surprised at how many hotels fail miserably even when forewarned.

On the roof is a gorgeous infinity pool that ends at a clear acrylic wall overlooking Marina Bay. While it makes for a great view from the pool it’s even cooler to sit at the adjoining bar and watch people swim (not that I would do anything so creepy).

Located on Collyer Quay, across from the old Fullerton Hotel, the Fullerton Bay is a short walk from the Raffles Place subway stop and while there isn’t a ton to do in the area, it’s central location makes it a short taxi ride to just about anything you’d want to get to in the city.

My only gripe with Fullerton Bay Hotel wasn’t really related to my stay. It was their unfortunate restaurant called Clifford. Named after the historic pier the hotel is adjoined to, the restaurant does mundane French bistro fare poorly.

There are plenty of hotel restaurants serving mediocre food, but the real travesty here is that the restaurant is gorgeous. With towering ceilings, subtle colonial touches and floor to ceiling glass, it’s one of the prettiest restaurants I’ve seen. It’s the kind of place where you sit down and want to love everything about it, but as course after tragic course came out, I was continually disappointed by the food.

Red Lantern, the rooftop bar at the Fullerton Bay Hotel on the other hand is fantastic. You may not be as high up as the acrophobia inducing KU DÉ TA on top of Marina Bay Sands, but it’s comfortably nestled in the middle of the action with jaw dropping panoramic views of Marina Bay Sands, the ArtScience Museum, The Singapore Flyer, and the soaring towers of the financial district.

Every drink I sampled was spot on for the balmy Singapore evening with a pleasant blend of fresh fruit and quality liquor. While they weren’t the high-proof hipster drinks I’ve grown accustomed to in NYC, these refreshing cocktails maintained a pleasant balance between sweet and sour, with just enough alcohol to take you to a happy place without the bitter faces along the way.

I didn’t order a ton of food, but the truffle fries were crisp to the last fry with enough truffle essence to put a smile on your face without punching you in the nose with the earthy fungus. The sliders were probably some of the best I’ve had ANYWHERE. With medium rare Wagyu patties the thickness of the sesame bun, melted cheese dribbling off the beef, and a sweet caramelized onion sauce that tied everything together. The beauty of these sliders is that they didn’t contain anything unnecessary, just high quality ingredients prepared flawlessly. Even if you’re not staying at the hotel I’d recommend making a reservation and heading to Red Lantern for pre-dinner drinks and a snack.

When you take into account the aesthetic, comfort, service and price, the Fullerton Bay Hotel is one of the best hotels I’ve stayed at in recent memory. It’s not that my my room was incredibly large or gratuitously opulent. It’s the comfortable feeling that I’m in a better version of home that will keep me going back to the Fullerton Bay Hotel whenever I’m in Singapore.

Fullerton Bay Hotel
80 Collyer Quay, Singapore 049326
Phone: +65 6333 8388 ‎
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Full disclosure: The Fullerton Bay Hotel comped my stay at the hotel. While I strive to provide you with honest, unfiltered opinions on this site, the federal government requires that I disclose this relationship with you.

We’d just gotten through an 8 course seafood dinner that included a whole chicken and whole crab when my friend Russel declared “I’m gonna take you to meet my Italian family man!” To understand the irony of this statement you should know that Russel, is literally a rockstar photographer who’s shot the likes of Michael Jackson, Naomi Campbell, and Jackie Chan; he’s also Singaporean.

We pull up to Ristorante Da Valentino, an unassuming storefront in a quiet residential neighborhood. If it weren’t for the Maseratis, Benzs, and a Rolls Royce parked outside, you’d have no idea the place was even open. By the looks of it, they were having a busy night. With my gut painfully bulging over my snug seatbelt, a small part of me was hoping Russel would decide it was too crowded and leave.

My hopes were dashed when he zoomed up the narrow cul de sac and parked in a spot that I could only assume was a parking ticket in the making. As we walked into the restaurant, Russel pointed out all the F1 photos on the wall he’d taken as well as one of F1 Supremo, Bernie Ecclestone dining in the restaurant. I was mulling over all the celebrities that had eaten there when Papa Gianni strode towards Russel as though he was welcoming home a long lost son. “I have a table for you” he said with a Singaporean tinged Italian accent.

We were whisked over 2 doors, past sister Perla’s Pastry shop, and into the private dining room. Once seated a platter of salumi materialized on the table. I was so full I couldn’t imagine cramming anything else into my stomach, and yet there in front of me was a gorgeous carving board covered in shiny, paper thin cuts of cured meat. How could I refuse?!

The next thing I know chef Valentino is out asking us what kind of pizza we want. “è piccolo, it’s small!” he says, gesturing with his thumbs and forefingers. Unsurprisingly a full sized pizza emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later. Thin crust with delicate bubbles charred ever so slightly on top. A smattering of fresh tomato sauce, a thin web of cheese and thick slices of salame piccante topped this pizza.

The crust was crisp all the way to the center, and yet there was just enough dough above the crisp layer to remind you that this was a pizza and not a cracker. The tomato sauce was pleasantly sweet and tangy and tasted of fresh tomatoes. There was just enough cheese to bind the toppings to the dough, but not enough to be greasy or overwhelming. And the salame piccante was savory and spicy hitting all the right places in my mouth. I managed to cram down two slices, but had I been more hungry I could have easily finished the whole pie.

Just as I was wondering if it would be possible to fit another slice of pizza in my stomach, a white plate with little cream colored cylinders about the size of macaroni covered in a creamy white sauce showed up. The waiter announced that it was gorgonzola gnocchi before bending over to set it down. Before the plate hit the table, Russel’s wife Judy jumped in, wondering if it was for another table. I breathed a shallow sigh of relief, but part of me wanted to have just one bite.

At this point, I wasn’t too shocked when the waiter came back and casually placed the plate on the table, right in front of me. What did surprise me was how mild the aroma was as it wafted up to my nose. It was seductive. My hand instinctively reached for my fork and before I knew it there was a piece of gnocchi in my mouth. Each morsel was tender and yet they had just enough bite to remind you that they aren’t just mashed potatoes. The cheese was surprisingly mellow but had a deep nutty flavor that made it almost impossible to stop eating. It wasn’t long before the plate was cleaned.

I later learned from the chef that he’d perfected a technique to include much less flour than most gnocchi recipes. This made the dough difficult to work with, but made for a pillowy soft gnocchi with a heavenly texture.

Three desserts followed, a Panettone, a Tiramisu, and a mystery Panna Cotta. The Panettone, and Tiramisu were both delicious, each with a special twist that set them apart from the usual, but it was the Panna Cotta that really captivated me. When the pastry chef, Valentino’s sister Perla, brought out the Panna Cotta, she had a coy smile on her face asking us if we could figure out what flavor it was. It looked like a jiggly pyramid with its top cut off and had a thin purplish grey layer on top.

Curiosity piqued, I scraped the edge of my spoon along the top to remove just a bit of the grey gel. I didn’t get my spoon half way to my nose when the pungent aroma of white truffles smacked my olfactory senses. You see, Perla had just flown back from Alba that morning, with a fresh stash of gorgeous white truffles. Each about the size of of a large walnut with a crust of damp earth still clinging to each knobby tuber.

The panna cotta was divine. Decadent and creamy, without being cloying or overwhelming. The white truffle was assertive without having the strong gasoline-like odor that fake truffle oils often have. It was the perfect dessert to finish off a perfect meal. Helped along by a glass of grappa I nearly forgot that this was my second meal of the evening.

I have a rule about avoiding European restaurants in Asia. Most places aren’t good, and even in the rare instances when they are, I can’t help but question the logic of flying all the way to Asia to eat something that I can get at home. But for Ristorante Da Valentino’s I’ll make an exception to that rule. I only hope that I’m more hungry the next time that I go.

Ristorante Da Valentino
Ristorante Da Valentino
200 Turf Club Road, #01-19
Singapore 287994
Phone: 6462 0555

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I’m back from Singapore, and let me tell you: if you like to eat, there are few places in the world where so many culinary cultures come together so seamlessly. It’s a true melding pot where the only clashes you’ll see are between two foodies squabbling over who makes the best chicken rice.

Bak Kut Teh, is another hotly contested dish, and with two very different variations it’s easy to see why. Literally translated, Bak Kut Teh means “meat bone tea”, and was a breakfast staple keeping dock workers (locally known as coolies) energized and ready to unload the next boat that came into one of the largest ports in Asia.

The Teochew version of Bak Kut Teh served at Outram Ya Hua has a clear broth and is loaded with black pepper. It’s brimming with umami and has a peppery bite at the end. Because the soup is clear, it’s not heavy or cloying, and you might even go so far as to say it’s light. That said, the fall off the bone tender ribs will erase any inclination you might have of calling this dish healthy. Dip each piece of meat and fat that pulls of the bone in dark soy sauce with red chilies and let it melt in your mouth into a porky orgy of flavor.

There are also the ubiquitous fried dough sticks (kind of like doughnuts) that come with many soups here, which you can use to sop up every last bit of the heavenly broth. If that’s not enough to fill you up, Outram Ya Hua seems to take the name of the soup quite literally and will top up your bowl with steaming hot broth out of a kettle just as surely as they’ll refill your tea.

It’s not going to win any beauty pageants any time soon, but as I learned throughout my time in Singapore, the more homely a dish looks, the better it often tastes, and Bak Kut Teh is no exception.

My other favorite dish here was the braised pork trotters. The collagen in the trotters had melted into a jelly consistency and held together bits of meat. Each tender morsel was saturated with soy sauce and garlic and had hints of spices such as cassia and star anise.

A recurring theme I noticed with Teochew cuisine is that many things are braised. There was the braised salted vegetables, which was like a more flavorful version of the cabbage found in corned beef. The braised peanuts were tender, and they reminded me a bit of beans simmer for hours in soy sauce. The braised fried bean curd is like a sponge that absorbs all the flavors of the dark sweet soy sauce that it was cooked in with just a hint of five spice.

The vegetables were perfectly steamed before being tossed with oyster sauce and oil. That alone wouldn’t set them apart from vegetables served at any other Chinese restaurant around the world, but as with many dishes Singaporeans have managed to make it just a little better. In this case a mound of crispy deep fried shallots on top rounds out the green and savory flavors while adding a crunchy texture.

The sweet lady that owns this place has been running it for 21 years with her family, and with 8 sisters in her family, she won’t be running out of help anytime soon. Here’s a copy of the meny as of November 2011:

Outram Park Ya Hua Rou Gu Char
No.7 Keppel Road
#01-05/07
PSA Tanjong Pagar Complex
7am-3pm, 6pm-4am, closed Mondays

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I’m just about to head out to the airport to fly out to Singapore for a week long food tour. The Singapore Tourism Board was gracious enough to invite me out to check out their booming food scene and I can honestly say I haven’t been this excited about a trip in months!

Google hooked me up with a local cell phone so I’ll be posting all my updates on Google+, as it happens. Add No Recipes to your circle to get the play-by-play of my trip along with all the juicy photos of Bak Kut Teh, Chicken Rice, Laksa, Chili Crab, and so much more. In the mean time, here are a few pics from my trip last year to tide you over until I land:-)

I’m not sure if it was the price or a personal preference, but my parents always seemed to have a bottle of Kendall-Jackson sitting around. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t amazing, just your ordinary table wine. So when Brian Kraemer (the man behind the Kendall-Jackson blog) contacted me about coming out on a press trip I was hesitant to accept at first.

But after doing a bit of research I found out that they have five lines of wine ranging from their Vintner’s Reserve, to their Stature (which sells for $120 a bottle!) I also found out that all their grapes come from “cool coastal” regions of California. Being a fan of wines that come from cooler climates this sounded promising. And so I accepted.

Tonight was the first official night of the trip and we were whisked over to the Kendall-Jackson Wine Center in Santa Rosa. It’s a beautiful property complete with a vegetable garden where a lot of the produce we were about to eat was picked earlier in the day.

Upon arrival, we were seated in what I can only describe as a grand ballroom, with seven glasses of wine in front of us. We were about to be treated to their Wine and Food Pairing. Not some fancy impress-the-food-bloggers meal, or something you need to make a reservation two months in advance to enjoy. This is something anyone can do by showing up and asking for it.

If you read my other blog, you know I love food. The thought of being able to go wine tasting AND nosh on food paired for each wine is irresistible! The sweet tea brined Niman Ranch pork belly which was paired with their 2007 Highland Estates Alisos Hills Syrah was probably the best thing I’ve put in my mouth in the past month. I contemplated begging for the recipe, and then I realized the recipe is online!

Other standouts included the buttermilk panna cotta with stawberry gelee paired with the 2008 Late Harvest Riesling; and how could anyone not love caramel corn paired with a 2007 Late Harvest Chardonnay — pure heaven in a Chinese take-out box.

At this point, I thought dinner was over. Silly me! As it turns out, dinner was to follow outside. We were ushered out the doors onto a patio lit in ocre and crimson hues by the setting sun. Pizza from the wood burning oven, along with roast veggies and tomatoes from their garden was on the menu as were a few more delicious wines.

Somehow I missed out on getting a seat at the table with the meat pizza, so after knocking back a few more glasses of wine, and cramming in a generous helping of tiramisu, I headed over to the pizza oven to see if they’d let me try my hand at making a pizza.

I made this eclectic pizza, by brushing the dough with olive oil, putting down a scattering of mozzarella, layering on maitake mushrooms, artichokes, sausage, and cherry tomatoes, then finishing with chili flakes, salt, and a little more cheese. Since I couldn’t fit in another bite, I ended up taking it back to my room for breakfast tomorrow… But as I write this post at 11:48pm, I’m munching…

So has Kendall-Jackson won over a new fan? There’s still three days left, but stay tuned to find out!

Full disclosure: Kendall-Jackson covered all expenses for this trip. While I strive to provide you with honest, unfiltered opinions on this site, the federal government requires that I disclose this relationship with you.

Whether it’s booking the flight, or planning my itinerary, I like to be spontaneous about my travel plans. Sure, I’ll do some basic research before the trip, but planning out every minute detail is akin to watching all the trailers for the latest Michael Bay flick before heading to the theater, or reading CliffsNotes for Great Expectations before reading the novel.

Today I set out to visit one winery which was recommended to me by some people on Facebook, Siduri Wines & Novy Family Winery. Driving up to the “winery” was like a scene out of Office Space; it’s located in the middle of a corporate park. With only a small sign posted on the door of a beige warehouse, I gave up once and left. Still, the numerous recommendations I’d gotten about this place had me curious enough to give them a call.

As it turns out, the tastings are by appointment only, but they had room to squeeze me in right away. Walking into the sweltering office, I felt a bit like I was visiting my accountant. Did I go in the wrong door? The lady at the front desk (Catherine as I later found out) seemed to sense my unease and flashed a quick smile while she grabbed a wine glass. She led the way through a door into a giant warehouse space full of tanks, bins, and fermenters that was at least 10 degrees cooler and smelled of freshly fermenting grapes. Bingo!

The tasting took me through a flight of Pinot Noirs ranging in appellation from Chehalem to Santa Lucia and just when I started picking which Pinots I wanted (all of them), we moved onto another flight of Syrahs! Now I should first mention that I’ve never had a Syrah that I’ve liked. I tend to put Syrah’s in the same bucket as Cabernet Sauvignons as too dry and too strong. These were full-bodied, loaded with dark fruit flavor, and yet were perfectly drinkable without a blue-rare steak in front of me.

After a tour through the winemaking area, Catherine offered a barrel tasting of a few 2010 Syrahs that won’t be bottled until January. We went back into the barrel storage area with a wine thief and spray bottle of ethyl alcohol in hand. While young, I found these more agreeable than most bottled Syrahs from other wineries–something to look forward to next year!

Back in the tasting room, I was offered a dessert wine to finish things off, but it was only 11:30am and I was already feeling a bit tipsy, so I politely decline. Instead, I got a whole handful of free tasting cards at other wineries in the area along with her personal recommendations on a map of the Sonoma Valley.

As I was headed out from the winery, I spotted Rancho Mendoza supermarket. I can’t pick get things like guajillo chiles and masa harina where I live so I loaded up my basket and headed to the checkout stand. There, I got a recommendation to try out Taqueria Mendoza down the street for lunch from a lady in line who was probably wondering why an Asian dude was buying so many Mexican chiles.

Four tasty meat filled tacos later, I was on my way to check out some of the places Catherine had recommended. My next stop was Lynmar Estate, which I was told had amazing Pinot Noirs. I opted for the $20 Reserve tasting. The wine was good for sure, but for the price, I would have rather gone back to Siduri and bought a few more bottles. They did however have a gorgeous outdoor space complete with a vegetable garden that made sipping each pour a joy.

Last up was Iron Horse. I’ve had some of their Pinot Noirs before and was looking forward to checking out their outdoor tasting room which I’ve been told has amazing views. The $15 reserve bought me a flight of wines unlike any I’ve tasted before. One tasted like pear juice, another like cherry cough drops, and a 1997 sparkling tasted like canned meat. Quirky would probably be the best place to describe this place, but the view certainly didn’t disappoint.

Dinner was at SCOPA in Healdsburg, another recommendation off Facebook. I’d heard the place would be packed, and I couldn’t get through by phone to make a reservation so I showed up around 9pm to find there were still people waiting outside. Luckily they had a bar seat open. I went for a pizza margherita, local boar bolognese, and a buttermilk panna cotta for dessert. Every dish from the brittle pizza to the soft tangy panna cotta was perfectly executed. Simple, fresh food at its best.

2 trains, 1 plane, and 1 car ride later, I’m here in Sonoma, California! The sun is still warm as if clinging to the last days of summer, but the air is charged with a brisk hint of fall.

After an extraordinarily long wait for baggage at SFO, I took the convenient “AirTrain” to pick up my rental car. The cunning lady at the counter managed to sell me on a $7 a day upgrade to an SUV. What she neglected to mention is how much gas this thing drinks. To add insult to injury, there’s a large MPG display often reading in the low single digits to remind you how bad the gas mileage is.

As I headed across the Bay and up to Sonoma, I was met by the familiar sight of fog around the Golden Gate bridge. But about half-way across, I felt like an airplane emerging above the clouds as the fog suddenly thinned, then disappeared. Looking back towards the city, it was as if the Pacific side of the bridge was a giant punchbowl filled with dry ice as the fog poured over the lip of the bridge and into the Bay.