Catavino

Goodbye 2011, Hello Future

Ryan Opaz — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:59:56 +0000

Today seems to be the day we say goodbye for good. Seems logical to end it all on the last day of 2011. The journey has been fun, but in reality, it’s only just begun. We’ve just arrived back after a week in the UK with family and friends, filled with good wines and festive meals. I suspect the first weeks of 2012 will be welcomed in with a bit of restraint as we work to get our middles back to that svelte shape we all think we have.

As for Catavino. Someday we might do something with it. From time to time, we’ll be poking around, cleaning up some old posts and optimizing the archive a bit, but that’s about it. All our wonderful writers have said their goodbyes (Rick Fisher, Quentin Sadler, Andrea Smith, Oliver Styles, Sonia Nolasco), many of which left us speechless, and almost made us change our minds, not to mention the numerous emails, and messages, imploring us not to keep going. But alas, the book (or blog) is officially over.

This is far from the end. We have some great new projects lined up, so your not getting rid of us that easy. You can still follow us at:

Ryan Opaz

Gabriella Opaz

Vrazon

Thank you to all the people who helped make Catavino what it is today. We deeply appreciate all the friendships it brought us, wines we have tasted, and places we have visited. Looking back it seems like a bit of a dream, but we trust the memories will continue as you explore the vast and delicious wines of the both Spain and Portugal. Remember, no matter how much you love a grape, wine, style or region, never stop exploring new wines, foods and ideas. We only grow by expanding outside our comfort zones!

So here’s to a great 2012, new beginnings and fresh starts.

Cheers and Thank you all.

Ryan and Gabriella

10 Delicious Reasons Why You Should Visit Portugal!

Andrea Smith — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 19:15:26 +0000

It’s been almost four years since I called Portugal my “home away from home”, translating to a half decade of savoring Portuguese food and wine on a regular basis – something I’ve never taken for granted.

Consequently, while searching for information on Portuguese gastronomy, I stumbled across Catavino’s Facebook page. Immediately drawn to Ryan and Gabriella’s story, it echoed many similarities to my own adventure. So, I reached out, expressing my shared enthusiasm and appreciation for Iberian wine and food. (photo by Ryan Opaz)

The shock came soon after when Gabriella hinted that I write for Catavino. Me? A writer?! Are we speaking of the same person who dreaded school writing assignments, or even writing thank-you letters?! The idea was dreadful, as I neither thought myself qualified, nor that my writing would be interesting enough for people to read. But Gabriella gently coaxed me into the fold, with the help of her editing magic and continued support; I’ve been pecking away at the keyboard for well over 3 years now.

Aided by the research I was required to do for Catavino, I have developed an appreciation for some relatively off the wall flavors; dishes that I would’ve stayed clear of if they weren’t ordered by fellow diner. What a shame it would have been to miss out on so many extraordinary flavors. Portugal has brought out the proud “foodie” in me, the person who spends ten minutes deciding on the cake or tart I should savor at the pastelaria; the person who requests additional bread to mop up the garlic, cilantro, butter and white wine sauce from the ameijoas á bulhão pato; and the person who lingers over every single drop of their (espresso) café, scraping around the inside of the cup with a spoon for that coveted foam.

Hence, my mouthwatering tactics begs the question: have you visited Portugal yet? Assuming the answer is “no”, what if you were given ten delicious reasons as to why you should take your next vacation to Portugal, would you be convinced? Let’s give it a try:

Simple, Fresh Comfort Food

I cherish the fact that you can enjoy a delicious, home-cooked meal from any one of the numerous “mom and pop” locales throughout Portugal. Simple and inexpensive – as a result of their locally sourced seasonal meat, fish and produce – you can savor hearty, traditional dishes even in the heart of Lisbon at such family-run establishments such as A Tasca do João. Or if you’re needing a breath of fresh air out in the country, Portugal’s picturesque little aldeias are the perfect spot to sample comfort food at its best; whether you’ve got a free invite to stay with friends or you’re paying to stay at one of the many aldeia guesthouses for a luxurious weekend getaway, you’ll always be treated and fed like one of the family!

Intriguing Regional Liquors & Spirits

Though having Portuguese wine is a must; you really haven’t had the full Portuguese experience until you’ve tried their colorful variety of liquors and spirits! Whether you end your meal with something sweet, or ease into a nightcap with something dry and powerful, there’s a sumptuous flavor for everyone. Licor Beirão, the “Liquor of Portugal”, from the central Beiras region, is made from a secret 100-year old recipe that shows a delectable sweet, herbal flavor. From the southern Algarve region, you have Licor de Amendoa Amarga, made from bitter almonds and portraying an addictive marzipan flavor, most notably from the brand “Amarguinha”. Licor de Alfarroba is made from aguardente (brandy) and the seedpods of the Alfarroba (Carob) tree; which is also used in many Algarvian desserts. It has unique flavor that I would describe as a mixture of fig and chocolate and makes an amazing digestive. But if you really want something to knock your socks off then pour yourself a glass of aguardente bagaceira, or Bagaço as it’s commonly called. Consider it Portugal’s version of grappa, made from leftover pomace. The best Bagaço is said to come from the pomace of Vinho Verde grapes in the northern Minho region and is distilled on open flame from small wine producers. However, as this method is illegal, the only way to find it is if you upon a small, local restaurant where the owner generously pours you a shot from his “unmarked” bottle. If this falls upon your lap then you’re in for a treat! Otherwise, you can go for the Macieira Centenário, a legal and respected brand. And last but not least, if you’re in the Lisbon area and can’t make it up North, then try ginja, a traditional cherry liquor from the town of Obídos served in a chocolate cup. We’re talking pure heaven!

Meat, Sausage and all Things, well Meat Oriented!

Although nearly half of Portugal is coastline, where fish graces the majority of our meals, not an hour inland you can savor roasted, stewed and grilled meats. The most prized meat originates from the southern region of Alentejo, where certified, free-range novilho (beef) and vitelão/vitela (veal) are raised, of which the majority is equivalent in quality to Angus Beef. The region is also well-known for their certified, free-range black pork, made into delicious chouriço de porco preto (black pork sausage), presunto (Portugal’s version of prosciutto) and fresh pork cutlets. A good way to enjoy Alentejo’s meat is on a traditional tabua mista de carne- a mixed meat board. And of course, they still produce plenty of “regular” pork, such as chouriço de sangue (fresh blood sausage) and cacholeira (smoked sausage made with liver, blood, kidneys and pork fat). Many of these sausages can also be found in Portugal’s famous Sopa da Pedra (Stone Soup) or Cozido á Portuguesa (Portuguese stew). But don’t miss out on the northern interior regions of Trás-os-Montes and Beira Alta, which are known for producing some of the best, hand-made enchidos (cured meats) and chouriço (sausage) in the country; such as my favorite alheira – a soft, fresh sausage made from a mixture of pork, pork fat, poultry meat, garlic, paprika and olive oil, and served Mirandela style: deep fried and topped with a fried egg. Albeit rich, it’s absolutely delicious!

Bacalhau

Yes, I mean salt cod! And even though salt cod is common in various Southern European countries, the Portuguese boast of their 1,001 different ways of preparing it! Fresh fish may be abundant, but Bacalhau has played an integral part in Portuguese history and culture. So whether you like it just simply boiled, or fried with sautéed onions and garlic like I do, the buttery texture and heartiness of Portuguese Bacalhau will win anyone over!

Fish & Shellfish

Ferran Adria has stated, “the best fish in the world is Portuguese”, and equally acclaimed chef, Thomas Keller, supposedly only consumes Portuguese fish. When considering that Portugal is the highest consumer of fish in Europe, and 4th in worldwide consumption, it should be of no surprise to you that the Portuguese are equally smitten with their scaly friends. Indeed, for a country that has an extensive Atlantic continental coastline of approximately 943km (586mi) and an additional combined 917km (570mi) around the Azorean and Madeira islands, there is plenty of area for the experienced Portuguese fishermen to bring in numerous and delicious varieties of Portuguese fish and shellfish. Portuguese fish recipes are prepared in vastly different ways, from boiled to baked, or even stewed with rice or potatoes, but nothing beats a simple grilled fish with a little sea salt and olive oil for lunch, accompanied by a deliciously effervescent Portuguese white wine. Keep a lookout for popular Portuguese fish like dourada (dourade or gilthead bream), robalo (seabass) and some of the healthiest fish you can eat like carapaus (mackeral) and sardinhas (sardines)-the latter of which the Portuguese do best as they’re huge part of their summer culture. And trust me, once you’ve had fresh Portuguese sardines, you’ll actively seek them out like the rest of us!

Bread

There is a deliriously irresistible aroma of baking bread that wafts through the streets of Portugal from late in the evening to the early morning hours. Unfortunately, I’m not sure whether it’s more of a pleasure, or a torture, to endure the buttery, rich aroma when that late night craving hits, but if you can wait until those bakery doors open, you won’t regret it. Making your own bread at home may be nice, but here in Portugal, there’s no point when fresh bread is everywhere, as the bakeries feed into the supermarkets and local restaurants throughout the day. Plus, there is no shortage of styles, as each Portuguese region specializes in a different bread (pão), such as the chewy and crusty Pão de Mafra or a richly dense Broa de Milho. And if your trip coincides with a holiday, you just might sink your teeth into special recipe such as Folar da Pascoa, Portugal’s delicious Easter bread.

Handcrafted Cheese

All you cheese lovers out there, Portugal is your destination for cheese heaven! Soft and stinky, rich and creamy, hard and nutty, it doesn’t matter because they have them all! I am so obsessed with Portuguese cheese that I went so far as to break them down into 3 bite sized summaries: A Lil’ Stinky But Smooth And Creamy; Not Too Soft, Not Too Hard And Not Too Stinky; Hard, Rugged and Nutty. With any luck, you might also gain a new level of appreciation for the hard working laborers who make this delectable treat so readily available for you, such as the shepherds of Serra da Estrela, whose dying craft is threatening the availability of high quality, handcrafted Serra da Estrela cheese. Clearly it’s an art, and one that I wholeheartedly try to support at least once a day.

Coffee

Ahh, the delicious aroma and flavor of Portugal’s coffee, a well-honed tradition that’s been an integral part of Portuguese culture for centuries. As a result of the Portuguese colonization in excellent coffee-growing regions like Brazil and Angola, Portugal was not only one of the first European countries to bring coffee to the continent, but was also partially responsible for the universal success of coffee. Nowadays, with cafés on every single corner of the city, we both start and end our days with great quality coffee costing an affordable 55 cents; hence, it won’t break your bank for a little indulgence!

Pastries

Of course with such an abundance of cafés and coffee drinkers, it’s of no surprise that the Portuguese are master pasteleiros, and my, what a sweet tooth they have! Historically influenced by wine and convent life, pastry making went on to create Lisbon’s most famous pastry, Pasteis de Belem. Though you can find a selection of the most popular pastries in almost any café or pastelaria in the country, the unique regional pastries are a touch of sweetness with individuality.

Unique Wine Experiences

People never stop asking me why I came to Portugal, and though I usually say “for several reasons”, Portuguese wine captured my heart. From the moment I came across Portuguese wine during my studies at the Culinary Institute of America, it entranced me, with its numerous strange-sounding native varieties that twisted my tongue into a thousand knots, and its elusive presence. I was hooked and decided to visit. But don’t let tricky names and limited availability scare you, come visit Portugal and experience them in their native surroundings. No where else in the world can true Port and Madeira wine be produced and no where else in the world can you find such palate-tickling wines like Vinho Verde, Vinho Verde Rosé and Vinho Verde Tinto, or a surprisingly tasty Tinto Espumante that is perfect with the delicious regional dish Leitão Assado. And with over 300 native grape varieties to choose from, it’s difficult to not enjoy even basic table wines that can include award winning grapes such as Gouveio and Arinto. Then again, if you want a warm smile and some professional guidance, swing by any of these local wine bars: Os Goliardos, Chafariz do Vinho and Garrafeira Alfaia. In the world of wine where you can find so much of the same thing being done and re-done, there’s never been a better time to try something completely different!

So those are my 10 delicious reasons, and if you still don’t believe me, even Turismo de Portugal has backed me up this year with this enchanting video called “Taste Portugal” which is a culmination of everything food and wine that Portugal has to offer.

Finally, if you’re keen for more information on Portuguese food and wine, check out Fodor’s Portugal 9th Edition, where I’ve added loads of secret gems to experience in the greater Lisbon area. You can also find me on Twitter and perhaps re-launching my own blog again. And of course, you can find me here in Portugal, ready to guide you on a deliciously unique experience!

To Gabriella & Ryan Opaz,

Thank you for a deliciously eye-opening journey through writing,

Andrea Smith

Hey, ho! Please let Pancho go! ~ Time for some wine drinking.

Ryan Opaz — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 00:43:40 +0000

Despite our continued posting, we still plan on closing Catavino. Gabriella and I are finished here, onto bigger and better things, but strangely, we can’t stop just yet. I have a few more things to get off my chest, and after my recent post on the Pancho affair; I know I need to do it sooner than later. I’m overwhelmed by the response to my last post, and maybe this blogging thing could pay off if we could pump out a post like that more often.

The truth is though, I don’t want too.

I love wine. Actually I love flavors. Wine, beer, booze, food, foams, gels, confits and stacked culinary creations of unknown heights. I love it. If it tastes good and passes through my mouth, I like it. If it’s weird, or unusual, I probably will love it. This is why we started Catavino, and ironically, this is why we ended it. We want to move onto covering more about things we eat, and drink outside Iberia, our adopted home.

I’m saying this now, because I think some of the people reading this should consider moving back to the topic of wine too. As I said, I personally do not want to write posts like I did yesterday very often.

I have no love for Pancho Campo. Our relationship has been a mixed affair; of myself begrudgingly accepting an opportunity that I thought could lead to better exposure for my own brand. Wine Future 1 was great, and I thank Pancho for the opportunity to be there, and for being given a voice. It helped me immensely but that does not mean that I have to like the guy who organized it, just respect what he did. Nor do I need to love the event as a whole. Wine Future is stuck in the past. It claims to predict the future by inviting pillars of the industry that point out what is wrong with the present, while lamenting the past. Asia may be the future of wine consumption, but it is not wine’s future.

In addition, despite great networking opportunities, I don’t think the event helped the industry as a whole. There weren’t many groundbreaking theories or thoughts beyond the ability to cram so many egos into such a small stage all at one time, myself included – an effort Pancho should be commended for. It made great photos and fodder for us all to riff on. But most importantly, Wine Future wasn’t good for Spain.

It is true that Pancho’s Spanish Wine Academy has done a lot to spread the good word about Spanish wine, but at what cost? Pancho has consistently brought the shadow of scandal, something that no innocent man has ever had to deal with as much as he has. Spain has put a lot of money in Pancho’s pocket, and what’s amazing is not Pancho’s ability to extract it, so much as Spain’s willingness to let it go!

That said I don’t want to beat up Pancho either. My post yesterday was not about picking on Pancho. I realize there was some snark, and I’m not apologizing for that, but I am getting sick of hearing all this “Pancho did this…” and “Pancho did that…” commentary on the blogosphere. LAY OFF! Pancho did NOTHING ILLEGAL (or so I believe, I am not a lawyer here). Yesterday was my attempt to say that the industry has a problem as a whole. I do believe he corrupted the ethics of the Wine Advocate, a magazine that I have held a lot of respect for, and for this I think Pancho should get a firm wag of the finger, but he did nothing illegal. Between you and I, I think that the order of importance of things in Pancho’s life goes something like this: Pancho, Family, Money, Ferraris, Skiing, Jet Skiing and Wine. But that is not a crime. Wine pays the bills so the rest can be enjoyed.

So what?

The real issue we need to talk about is a simple one. How can we continue support a wine industry that allows for a Pancho to be born? Why do we continue to give SO MUCH POWER TO SO FEW PEOPLE? Why do we continually make lists of the best wines, and the “highest” rated wines, and allow these opportunities for corruption to enter into our special world? Idolatry did nothing for the wandering Jews, and it’s definitely failing the curious wine drinker. This problem is not unique to the wine industry, but I believe in the wine world we might as well try our best to fix it.

Wine is for drinking. It’s really not that important in the grand scheme of things. High alcohol wines, are not going to bring Armageddon, nor will over-oaking kill small children. Sure we like to debate these things, and claim that the “industry is being threatened by x, y, or z”, but the industry is only being threatened by people who think that wine tastes are OBJECTIVE and quantifiable. That there is a right wine and a wrong wine. By allowing people like Parker to have so much power, we create people like Pancho who want to harness their influence for their own gain; thus leaving us angry when someone finally figures out how to make money in this industry! Pancho is not the first nor the last to sell points to someone/region/winery. Nor is he the only one taking advantage of the wine industry.

Pancho has made a killing on Spain. We shouldn’t be shaming Pancho however, as I tried to point out in my last post, we need to be shaming Spain. Spain handed over the money, taking what they hoped would be the easy way out. Valencia, I ask you, why pay 35,000 euros for three days of Pancho and Jay? Really? Give me 35, 000 euros and I’ll give you 1 year’s worth of original engaging content on your wines, foods, and culture, all freely yours to distribute and use. I’ll also throw in a seminar for your wineries on how to set up Google alerts and other mysteries of the web; and then I’ll invite over a few importers who actually buy wines and don’t just spit and score. They actually buy wines! You might even make your money back!

Look, I’m not trying to be snarky. Oh wait, I am. Jim Budd, I like you, but seriously get over Pancho. I think your wife might be missing you; the affair has lasted too long. You exposed something corrupt, and great, we’re all looking now, but please go back to being a wine writer! Snide comments about him only undermines your efforts at good investigative journalism. I and many others than you for your efforts. To everyone else, myself included, I say move on and create a voice that will change the industry, rather than pointing fingers at the ones who you think are doing it wrong. Make a difference. Don’t make excuses. Show us wine’s future. Offer solutions, don’t just cry sour grapes!

Oh and Robert, Mr. Parker, Bob. I really like you. You are the reason I am in wine. You made me fall in love and now I’m in it for life. You’ve taught me so much that I feel I need to return the favor by saying, WAKE UP. Criticism does not mean that the person criticizing you necessarily is wrong, or bad, or a blobber! It means they might have a point, so at least listen. Grow a thick skin and realize you are not better then the people who read your magazines, or more moral than the bloggers who hope to one day have a voice of their own.

Engage. I love what you did for the wine industry. You changed it, but today your points at times corrupt the industry. You are smart enough to see this, even though you claim that people give your points too much credit. It might be that you haven’t given them enough yourself. Speak honestly about the trouble points have created in the wine industry. We are not going to get rid of them, they are part of the wine industry love them or not, but help us to work through our addiction to them. Teach us to use this force wisely. We don’t need a Ralph Nader of wine anymore, what we need is a wine lover who shares our passion and their knowledge. That should be you. You should help us to be better as an industry.

Finally you, and now the rest of the world can see Pancho has corrupted your ethics policy. No one thinks he didn’t. Move on. Don’t try to make excuses, just admit this mistake, you are human after all. We love to forgive mistakes, not snide dismissals. We want to be your advocate.

So I guess I just want to say in the end. Can we all get back to drinking wine? There were no laws broken. So what if the magazine we all like to make fun of just got caught with a bit of pie on their face(or was the pommace?). Shit happens. The only ones with their panties in a bunch are a whole lot of wine journos’ who, myself included, are a bit jealous that an outsider walked into our closed garden and sucked out a ****load of money from it. Spanish wine still is suffering from a lack of support. Let’s work as a group to show them the light, a new way, a new future; hopefully without pay for points deals happening seedy back alleys.

Ok, I’m going to open something red, or maybe white, but definitely wet; and the only point I’m going to attach to it is the end of a corkscrew.

Nite.

Ryan

PS: Jim, before you comment, I know that Pancho has alleged crimes in Dubai, which may or may not be criminal. I really don’t care. When I say no laws were broken in the post, I mean within the wine industry. Which, and correct me if I’m wrong, they were not. Oh and we’re definitely getting together the next time I’m in London!

Cha, cha, cha, changes…Spanish wine needs to learn from the Pancho affair

Ryan Opaz — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 18:19:33 +0000

Jay Miller is out. Neal Martin is in.

This is the story that spilled onto “the Twitter“, in the blogosphere, and onto “the Facebooks”. Regurgitated and recycled from one blog to another showing that there is no limit to the amount of naval gazing possible by any niche community. The scandal relates to whether Pancho Campo charged money to make Jay Miller magically appear in any given Spanish wine region’s back yard so that Parker‘s surrogate point giver Jay, could bestow a fresh layer of numerical digits upon the Spanish countryside. Read the full details here if you’ve been under a rock this week.

Between you and me, I think Pancho is guilty and Jay is just lazy. For Jay not to know implies ignorance, and while Jay may be ignorant about Spanish table wine under 15% alcohol, he’s no dummy, or so I’m told. And for anyone who thinks that Pancho is not buddying up to the Parker crew so as to sell bigger and better tickets to his events, not to mention raise funds for his “seminars” when Jay’s in town, well, there’s a bridge that just came on the market. Interested?

Pancho once said to me, “Ryan, I’m a business man…”, a statement made after he had turned down a proposal where I had asked for actual money from him to help promote WineFuture1 through live video. I agree he is a business man, and business men by their own admission can be quite slimy. Wine is secondary to Pancho, business is first. We wanted to promote the wine event, but he wanted to line his pockets with more of Rioja’s euros(disclosure my accommodations were paid, as a speaker at this event). Wine Future exists, not because it discusses the future of wine, but rather because a bunch of people whose names are at the top of the wine industry’s glittery rankings all get together on stage for a big group hug. And in doing so, Pancho can then raise enough money to live a life high on the hog.

I’m a bit envious actually. I wish I cared less about wine, and was more cut throat. In being so, I might actually be living in a better apartment, driving a bigger car (actually any car would be a step up, currently carless for 7 years now), drinking better wines, and doing as I please.

Now I’m sure at this point some of you are wondering what happened. This nice little blog that simply helps wine loving travelers to find tips on what to buy and what tapas to eat has all of a sudden gone rogue! I guess the simple explanation is that I felt this needed to be said, and with the “end” so near, I say “why not”! The wine industry here in Spain and in Portugal is suffering and mainly due to ego and silly politics. Nothing more. Pancho is not the problem by himself but rather a nice indicator of a system that’s broken. It makes him an easy target. I feel bad for him in that way, but then again, I can’t say he didn’t ask for it.

Back to Spain.

When I started in wine in the 90′s, while living in Minnesota, Spain was an up and coming wine region. Today, it still is. In that time South Africa up and came, Austria, Chile and many more. In fairness, the wines here have gotten considerably better in that time period, but on the other hand, they ‘ve been good for a long time. The question being, why is Spain so often struggling to be accepted as a quality wine country?

Personally, I’m sick of it! Spain makes great wine and should be recognized as a quality wine producing country – at the same level as France, Italy, and others. And to be clear, these quality Spanish wines I’m referring to do not include wines such as the 100pt anointed splinter ridden, syrupy, over-extracted fruit bombs of Toro, or the big “new style Rioja’s” that often have enough tannin to warrant a 2 year decanting so as to make them safe for human consumption. Oak, by and large, is a disease in Spain. And though the trend is waning, we still tremble when opening a Spanish red in fear that another wooden lollipop full of fruit juice flavors will pour forth. All that said, there is amazing quality here, under the 90pt ceiling, even lower sometimes!

Spanish wine for us is white and often bubbly. It’s a wine that is fresh and crisp and often preceded with a statement from the winemaker that goes like; “This is just our basic wine, it is not serious, just something fun”. Well, I’m serious when I say that this IS the wine we love, and it’s not the wine that Mr. Miller would be giving any points too(not sure if they could afford them). We consistently find ourselves being drawn to these simple wines. Fruit driven Godellos, herbal Mencias, fresh Carignans, silly little Moscatos, and fruity Tempranillos that show us their berry laden underbellies as they dance across our palate. Our award winning wines we purchase here in Spain rarely cross the 15€ mark, though they do stray into the upper tiers every so often. We can’t deny loving wines of all calibers, but we still gravitate to the “simple”.

Sadly, Neal has no chance of helping us out in this regard. Neal Martin is a great taster. Granted he has admitted a certain ignorance of Spanish wine, and I personal don’t find this to be an issue, having seen the ratings that Jay Miller has given over the past few years to Spanish wines, I’m sure many would agree it doesn’t appear he harbored much knowledge himself about Spanish wines. If it wasn’t red and rich, both in price and character, with a few exceptions, Jay didn’t seem to see to care much. So I don’t think Neal will do poorly. I’m sure he can hand out random numbers as well as any other wine critic. I just don’t see the style focus changing that much. I truly hope I’m wrong.

However, I truly wish Spain would change. There are already grumblings over Jay’s replacement, but in all sincerity, Who Cares?! He’ll give out numbers, and you will put them in press releases, and the country and wineries will say, “See we get big numbers too…” and all will be happy. But it really won’t. We’ll still be reliant on someone else to sell our wine. Shifting responsibility for our sales, or lack there of, to a third party. Again more whining and kevetching, but no real work. No change of attitude.

But I have a dream. The dream is fanciful, and at times, powerfully emotional; but in the end, it’s a simple construct of an overly active imagination. The dream starts with a tableau: one where the wineries look out at each other, everyone on their own boat, floating in a sea of wine. Instead of trying to out paddle their neighbor, searching for the shore by themselves, struggling to stay afloat, they join hands and begin to link boats together with small strands of magical string. Forming a flotilla that moves rapidly through cooperation and coordination, they explore new directions and water. Now, granted, I know this is a dream, because no one is using the phrase, “What about me?” in my version. Instead, they are saying, “We can go further and grow stronger”. The larger rafts cautiously avoid the hidden reef of “points”, and “shiny medals”, wise to their dangers, while the ones not willing to tie up to the group teeter cautiously on point ladden reefs, hoping they will not float adrift.

The “points” reef is a real danger. When you land on it in calm waters, it can provide stability and structure, allowing the freedom to breathe and not worry about perpetual paddling. But we all know that in a storm that same sense of stability can tear apart the strongest foundations. In my dream, the flotilla quickly moves beyond, trying to seek out more stable lands. The dream usually ends when the flotilla connects with boats and rafts of other niches. Avoiding those sharp and scary reefs, the wise winemakers throw a rope to fellow wine drinkers who are out enjoying a thing we call life. Laughing, drinking, sharing stories, they will even break the consumer barrier and become “friends”.

I know it’s a silly dream. Removing the needle of points from the arm of Spain’s wine industry (heck who am I kidding, the whole damn wine industry) is going to take a lot more than a blog post and knowledge of the pointy reefs. No, it will take more of us wine communicators talking about life and opening a nice bottle while we do it. Being human first and geek second. Points have a place, they just don’t need to be taking up the whole table!

Spain’s addiction to points helped create the mess that is the “Jay and Pancho Affair”. They are just guilty as the person who brings the “point giver” in exchange for money, or the point giver who naively thinks he’s not involved.

Pancho, you’re helping the industry. We know the industry is full of “Languedoc Pinot Noir” and “La Mancha flavored Riojas”. Many a critic as been paid to write a favorable article and I’m sure you’re not the first to try sell the opportunity for points to a region. You just helped us all see how dirty it makes us feel. You’re helping the industry to realize, or I would hope, that this whole imbalance of power that is given to the “point weilders” is wrong. Thank you.

Spain, I say to you, invest in relationships, not with critics and communicators. Invest in real wine drinkers. And within your own market, cultivate a culture where wineries collaborate to raise the Spanish wine industry as a whole. Spend money on the crazy ideas and small projects that are working to present a united front of Spanish wine. Leave the medals and points to the accountants, you have great wines, be confident in that. Make friends with those who are not celebrity, but rather those that pay money each day for another glass of vinous liquid. The wine drinkers not the wine spitters. You can do it!

Consumer, you know what to do. Grab a corkscrew. Find a bottle, and make sure you have a friend or two with you. Get a couple of glasses, shape has no importance. Then start drinking. While your doing it, laugh a little. Smile. Heck go for it and cry a little. Just make sure to savor the flavors. It’s good for you. Oh and make sure to invite me!

Hope you enjoyed this one. It felt good to get it off my chest. Time to open a bottle of something pointless.

Ryan

Basque-ing in the City

Rick Fisher — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 09:53:01 +0000

Nothing compares the aromas and tastes assaulting one as he walks the streets of San Sebastian on any given day. Perusing the massive counters of any number of Pintxos bars in the city will bring a grown man to his knees – in adoration, not defeat. So, when an opportunity to learn the art of cooking Basque presented itself to me on a recent trip to New York City, I jumped at the opportunity.

Basque cuisine is heavily inspired by the abundance of food from the sea on the one side and the fertile Ebro valley on the other. Spanish and French influence is strong, but the two rarely meet. There is a notable difference between the cuisines of the Spanish and French Basque peoples. Gastronomic societies pervade the Basque culture. Traditionally composed of only men who cook and eat together in a communal “txoko,” the societies are usually large and formally organized and meet together in a small space owned by a group of friends where they share the food and associated costs. Today, women are allowed into some clubs.

The influence of Basque cuisine is far-reaching. Multiple restaurants in the region boast one or more Michelin stars. Chefs like Juan Mari Arzak, Martín Berasategui, and Karlos Arguiñano have changed the landscape and reputation of Basque cuisine worldwide and have paved the way for discriminating and non-discriminating palates to enjoy the fruits of a cuisine from an area heralded to be one of the oldest civilizations still in existence (and they will make sure you know it). What was once a discreet corner of Iberia has today taken center stage on the world gastronomic scene.

The Basque cooking course at The Institute for Culinary Education (ICE) was its first, and I just happened to be in the proverbial right place at the right time. Having taken two courses previously at ICE, I expected that the course would be informative and entertaining. I was not to be disappointed. Chef Daniel took us through a brief history the Basque region and its unique cuisine. Next we reviewed our “menu” for the evening – ten dishes and three hours stood between our class of a dozen students and Basque food bliss. It was time well spent. The dishes were reminiscent of my time spent in San Sebastian and piqued my curiosity to explore the cuisine in more depth. Following I have included three recipes from the class (all recipes courtesy of ICE). Give them a try and do not hesitate to step out and try a course or two on your own.

¡Buen Provecho!

Basque Cod Croquettes

(Yield: Serves 4/8 croquettes)

For all salt cod dishes remember to soak the fish for 24 hours changing the water regularly. The fish should be poached but care must be taken not to bring the water to the boil or the fish will become tough.

¾ lb salt cod (bacalao), soaked in several changes of cold water for 24 hours
½ lb potatoes, cooked and mashed
¼ cup hot milk
2 tbsp olive oil
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
1 tbsp chopped Italian parsley
2 tsp lemon juice (or half a lemon squeezed)
½ teaspoon Piment d’Espelette (this is a Basque spice – substitute pimentón)
¼ cup all-purpose flour, plus additional for work surface
1 egg, beaten
¾ cup breadcrumbs
Canola oil for frying

Allow the mashed potato to cool then stir in the parsley.
Using a large pan over high heat, bring 2 inches of water to a boil; lower the heat and place the sold cod into the water. Cook gently for 15 minutes. DO NOT BOIL.
Drain, cool, remove skin and any bones and flake the fish.
Add the cod flakes, mashed potato, garlic, milk, olive oil, Piment d’Espelette, and flour into a mixing bowl and mix until all ingredients are completely mixed.
Four your work surface, and with your hands, roll out the paste into a long cylinder, about 10 inches long. Cut into 8 equal pieces.
Dip each piece into the egg wash and then roll in the bread crumbs to give an even coating. Place in the fridge for 20 minutes to chill (this will set the coating).
Heat oil in a large pot to 375° F.
Gently place the croquettes into the oil and fry until golden brown. Cook no more than 4 at the same time, drain on paper towels, then place in a warm oven until all are cooked.

Piquillo Peppers Stuffed with Brandade

(Yield: Serves 4)

½ lb skinless, boneless salt cod, preferably a thick center-cut piece (soaked in several changes of cold water for 24 hours)
4½ tbsp olive oil, divided
1½ tbsp all-purpose flour, divided
2 cups milk
16 roasted piquillo peppers (from two 6-oz jars), drained
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
1 medium carrot, thinly sliced crosswise
1 fresh parsley sprig plus 1 tbsp finely chopped parsley
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
1½ tbsp dry sherry

Cut the cod crosswise into ¼ inch strips.
In a medium saucepan, warm 3 tbsp of the olive oil over moderate heat. Add the salt cod and cook, stirring gently, to heat through and break up the fish (about 3 minutes). Stir in 1 tbsp of the flour until incorporated. Gradually mix in the milk. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring often, until the mixture has thickened (about 25-30 minutes). Cool to room temperature.
Keeping the roasted peppers intact, remove any seeds and carefully stuff each pepper with a heaping tbsp of the cod mixture.
In a large skillet, warm the remaining 1½ tbsp olive oil over moderately low heat. Add the onion, carrot, parsley sprig, and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is soft (about 12 minutes). Blend in the remaining ½ tbsp flour and then stir in 1 cup of water. Bring to a boil, cover and cook for 10 minutes to blend the flavors. Uncover, stir in the sherry and simmer for 3 minutes.
Transfer the mixture to a food processor and puree until completely smooth. Pour the sauce back into the skillet. Season with kosher salt.
Carefully place the stuffed peppers in the sauce. Cover and simmer gently over low heat until the peppers are heated through (about 3 minutes). Transfer the peppers to serving plates and spoon the sauce around them. Sprinkle the chopped parsley on top and serve at once.

Porrusalda (Leek and Potato Soup)

(Yield: Serves 6)

½ cup olive oil
6 medium leeks, chopped fine (use white/light green part only)
½ lb Spanish chorizo, thinly sliced
3 to 4 large potatoes, cubed (peeling optional)
1 tbsp crushed thyme
¼ tsp ground white pepper
2 tsp coarse salt
1 minced garlic clove
2 tbsp all-purpose flour
4 cups chicken stock
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp chopped parsley
1½ cups day old bread chunks (optional)

In a large stockpot, pour in oil and heat over medium-high heat. Add the leeks and chorizo. Stir to brown lightly. Add in potatoes, seasonings, and flour. Toss together until flour is incorporated. Reduce heat to low. Add in chicken stock. Stir until all ingredients are well combined. Cover, place bay leaves in pot, and simmer for 1 hour. Stir in parsley just before serving.
Place fresh croutons on bottom of individual serving bowls and pour soup over the top. Serve immediately.

Bidding Adieu to Old Favorites: Scholtz Hermanos Dessert Wine from Malaga

Quentin Sadler — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 15:26:51 +0000

It is never easy to say goodbye and to turn your back on a chapter of your past – parting always hurts and today I have to say two farewells.

I have been writing about Spain and Spanish wines for Catavino, as well as my own blog, for quite a while now, and sadly this will be my last Catavino piece, but by a remarkable coincidence this week saw another last for me regarding Spanish wine.

For almost thirty years I have been a devotee of a Málaga wines, especially those made by the wonderful, if rather un-Spanish sounding Scholtz Hermanos.

If you have never tried a Málaga, then you have really missed out as it can be one of the world’s great dessert wines and deserves to be as famous as Montilla-Moriles and Sherry which are its near neighbours in Andalucia. The Victorians, who often knew a good thing when they drank it, loved Málaga, calling it Mountain, or Mountain Wine, a direct translation of Montes which is the name of the mountainous sub-region just to the north of Málaga itself. Sadly, since that nineteenth century fame it has become almost forgotten and nowadays the region is more famous for holiday homes, Larios gin and San Miguel lager.

In fact so obscure has Málaga become that some years ago, when I was staying in the region, I attempted to order some to go with my dessert, but there was none to be had. This wasn’t in any old place either, but the Parador in the town of Antequerra which is at the very heart of the Málaga grape growing area of – if you can drink the wine anywhere, surely it ought to be there.

Traditionally only two grapes varieties are grown for the sweet Málaga wines, Moscatel (Muscat) and Pedro Ximén which is, of course known as Pedro Ximénez in Sherry and Montilla – strange but true, I was once in quite a bit of trouble with a Spanish customs officer at Almeria airport (trying to take frozen calamares out of Spain if you must know) and according to his badge his name was Pedro Ximénez!

The original Montes area has very few vines left in production today, but that is where the classic unctuously ripe Pedro Ximén hails from and their sweetness and intensity define the wine’s style – which is presumably why this area gave the wine its nineteenth century name?

Today a mere handful of producers make traditional Málaga dessert wines and they do not find it easy to keep going. Scholtz Hermanos was for a long time the standard bearer for the style and region and produced wines of stunning quality, but they closed in 1996 and the site of their bodega now houses a branch of El Corté Ingles.

As far as I can make out Málaga can be made in various ways and from combinations of base materials made from the grapes. Classically the grapes are picked super-ripe and concentrated further by being put out in the sun on esparto grass mats – a common scene in the Spain of my childhood. These intensely sweet raisined grapes are then fermented, but of course they contain so much sugar that the yeast can only manage a brief fermentation. Some juice is not fermented, but reduced down to a third of its original volume into a syrup called arrope. Some arrope is reduced down even further to make an almost black vino de color. Some juice remains unfermented, but fortified with the addition of grape spirit up to 15-16%, this is called mistela.

So a winemaker can call on any of these as well as a straightforward wine made from the sun-dried grapes and fortified wine too. All these things are sort of cobbled together into a wine that is then aged in old wood casks, sometimes in a solera system and often not. The finished wine often receives an additional dollop of some ancient reserve wines, whichever way they do it. It is a complex and wonderful process, but very hard to pin down in an easy to pigeon-hole kind of way. Indeed, thinking of Málaga simply as a fortified wine, like Port and Sherry is a little misleading, the truth is a little more complex and less predictable.

Any way, the other day I was at a tasting and a Spanish dessert wine was called for, so I opened my very last bottle of what I understood to be Scholtz Hermanos’s greatest wine:

Solera 1885 Scholtz Hermanos

Málaga

I cannot find anything out about this great winery as it no longer exists and when it did information was less easy to come by than today, but everything I have ever tried from them was superb and it seems they made over 30 different Málagas. I remember buying this bottle in Spain when I was 18, so I have had it for nearly thirty years. It is likely that the wine is mainly, if not all Pedro Ximén – it certainly has the figgy, raisiny, molasses nose and flavour of PX, but a certain freshness and elegance could be a pointer towards some Moscatel too, or as this was their top wine it might just not have any vino de color or very much arrope? Long ageing has made the wine perfectly integrated and it was utterly, utterly delicious with an array of cheeses, even smoked, and worked well with a rich chocolate tart too. Indeed it had a delicate chocolatey character, especially on the amazingly long finish, which showed none of its 18% alcohol, but was graceful and refined. It was also sweet without being sickly, I love rich PX wines from Montilla and Sherry, but this was lighter and fresher than those – another pointer towards not being pure PX, or just a very refined and elegant example?

If you enlarge the photograph of the bottle and study the wonderful label you will see that this wine was winning awards all over the world in the 1870s. That is because, as I understand it, the 1885 in the name is not the year the solera was laid down, but the year the Scholtz brothers bought the winery. I was once told that the solera was created right at the beginning of the bodega’s history, so something like 1807.

Fortunately for us a few producers are clinging on and continuing to make excellent Málaga in the old way:

Bodegas Larios, of gin fame, make some that are pretty good, most are Moscatel based, but their excellent Málaga Dulce is a PX and thanks to their excellent distribution network you can often find their wines in Spain.

The best of the remaining producers that I am aware of is Bodegas López Hermanos whose Pedro Ximenex Reserva de Familia is magnificent.

There are other glimmers of good news too, Bodegas Jorge Ordóñez make some stunning Málagas from Moscatel grapes, as does Telmo Rodriguez with his elegant, almost dainty Molino Real and MR wines.

However this week I slowly drank my last bottle Solera 1885 Scholtz Hermanos and relished an experience that I might never be able to repeat. It was a strange feeling saying goodbye to a wine forever, thinking about the time span of this astounding bottle, remembering when I bought it and what I was doing and ruminating on all that has happened since. Democracy in Spain was young then, the Cold War was raging, no one knew what Nelson Mandela looked like, Saddam was America’s friend and I was going to be the world’s greatest actor. It felt a little like watching my own life on film, I found it moving and a little melancholy.

Much like bidding adieu to the readers of Catavino.

Quentin Sadler

Politics, Practicality and Pomp: The Battle Over the Future of Spanish Wine

Oliver Styles — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 15:26:47 +0000

Editor’s note: All views expressed below are solely that of the author.

All good things must come to an end. And it seems sadly appropriate that, after six years, Catavino – a site that mirrored so well all that was burgeoning and metamorphosing in the Spanish wine world – closes its doors just as the outlook for Spanish wine gets bleaker.

Of course, I don’t need a crystal ball or the touch of a soothsayer to tell you that the European Economic Crisis – and Spain’s part in it – will exact its cost from the wine industry here. Perhaps the best that some can hope for is that a depressed Euro or, dare I say, Peseta will encourage export.

Similarly, Spain’s politics is going in a predictable direction. Recently, someone I know posted a picture on Facebook of Spain’s (surely incoming) Center Right, own label, Ribera del Duero. ‘D.O. Mordor, surely…’ someone replied. Quite.

But it’s not just the Eurozone Crisis, or the political future, that tells me the good old days are over. It seems the fates have been conspiring for some time. Take for instance Robert Parker’s handing over to Jay Miller a couple of years ago. Once (remember the days?), Parker’s top scores were catapulting producers here into the American stratosphere. You didn’t have to like what Parker was giving 90pts to but you had to admit it felt like the boy from Maryland had got his snout in the trough and was finding some impressive and interesting wines. It was exciting – at least because it got us tasting the likes of Clos Mogador, Contador, Pingus, etc. Even if most of us dismissed it them as ‘typical Parker wines’ or ‘overblown and overdone’ at least we were tasting Spanish wines with new interest – many of us (myself included) had never even tasted Jumillan Monastrell. Parker’s ‘magic’ had come to Spain.

Nowadays, we have Jay Miller who basically recycles the scores Parker once gave us and who, one must admit, attracts scandal like no-one I have seen before. Even if you’re a Jay Miller fan, you have to admit his path is strewn with uncomplimentary talk, from the original Sierra-Carche scandal (google it if you must) to the latest gems of comparing a great wine to great pornography and well, just search ‘jumillagate’ or ‘murciagate’ to find out what one region spends to have Jay Miller visit. In Jumilla‘s case: €29,000. Objectively speaking, not a lot of the talk around Jay Miller can be laid at his door but it is surprising that so much of it gets out and sticks to him – if you’ll pardon the expression – like shit to a mattress. I once wrote that I felt sorry for him. I still do.

But I feel more sorry for Spain. When it lost Parker, it undeniably lost a selling point (interestingly, most of Miller’s 100-pointers are still attributed to ‘Parker’ or his publication the Wine Advocate).

Now it loses Catavino – perhaps a greater loss. But I would say that, wouldn’t I, being a writer for them. But in my defense, it was impressive to go to a tasting in Madrid or Toro or Aranda del Duero and find yourself talking about Ryan and Gabriella Opaz. Spain had it good while they were around and one day, perhaps, a few people in the Spanish wine world will understand the lessons that they could have learned. There’s nothing hidden about what I say, I am simply pointing out that Ryan and Gabriella showed – through the medium of the internet – what could be achieved. If wine regions are spending €29,000 on having a well-known taster over, perhaps someone will wonder whether the money might not have been better spent on Social Media.

Would that such a couple descend upon the likes of France or Italy?

So Adieu it is. And while I cannot help but think that the good old days are over, whenever I hear that phrase I can’t help but think of a line from the Libertines:

‘…it chars my heart to always hear you calling,
Calling for the good old days.
Because there were no good old days.
These are the good old days.’

There’s no point bemoaning the future without first looking at where we’ve got.

Cheers,

Olly Styles

The Never Ending Journey: 6 Years of Transformation

Gabriella Opaz — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 13:13:12 +0000

Not surprisingly, I’ve delayed writing this post for weeks, dutifully trying to answer the question, “what happened over the past 6 years and how does one summarize such an experience in one article?” Admittedly, it’s absolutely impossible. To write a one off post on how our lives have changed feels as inconsequential as writing a paragraph on the death of reason. Well, then again, if you merged both topics, you just might have something!

If someone asked me 7 years ago if I would be prepared to live hand to mouth for half a decade in order to write about Iberian wine, in a country I had never been, speaking a language I had never uttered, to meet people from around the world that would eventually become life long friends, I would have offered a very cheeky grin and suggested they lay off the whiskey. If that very same someone went on to suggest that I would eventually find myself on the shoulders of Cristiano Van Zeller in a quaint restaurant in Matosinhos during Essencia do Vinho; sipping fresh olive oil with 2 Italian grandmothers in Umbria; sharing a glass of wine with the President of Croatia while overlooking the city of Zagreb; riding horseback high above the vineyards of Rioja, or simply enjoying horse sausage among new friends in their cozy and familiar apartment in Budapest, I would have asked them to seriously consider refraining from all stimulants, including acid. The notion would have been so preposterous, so out of my realm of understanding, that even the mere engagement of such an idea would have provoked a very quizzical look.

Nothing is Impossible

Allow me to repeat this statement: nothing is impossible. If there has ever been a truer nugget of wisdom, I have yet to encounter it. From day one, I have experienced more flavors, aromas, sites and sounds than most people have encountered in their entire lives; each and every one of these I would have initially defied impossible to experience. I might even have gone so far as to say they didn’t exist. Oh, how wrong I was. I still remember my head exploding when sitting down to a table full of sherry wines in Jerez, each vastly different in their color, each profoundly unique in their flavor and each perpetually misunderstood by the world at large. Like eating 1,001 different types of cured Spanish ham, Sherry opened my mind to the immense amount of diversity existing in the world. How did I not know about this? I would ask myself. How could I have generalized all Sherries as the same? This was a mistake I had made many times over the years, continuously doubting that life has a little magic to throw our way as long as we’re open to the experience.

Love Grows over Time

Prior to moving to Spain, I had imagined the Spanish landscape similar Greece, with white adobe houses, gorgeous blue waters and slinky cats skirting around every corner. Add a touch of New Mexican dessert with stunning orange sunsets and wild horses, and a dash of Hollywood pizazz where every woman had a sassy, no bullshit sexiness like Catherine Zeta- Jones, and you essentially have my image of Spain. It was naïve and childlike, sweet and completely out of sync with reality. The clue-stick eventually hit after landing in Madrid, one cold January morning, when I stepped out of the taxi to long barren city streets covered in cement and lined with dive bars, shoe shops, bakeries and enough pharmacies to make Pfizer have a mini orgasm. Taking a long hard look around me under a gray-blanketed sky, tears rolled down my cheeks. “Where the hell are the cats, the gorgeous blue waters, the stunning views? Damn it, where is my Zorro!”

It took many months before my appreciation for Spain grew into a full blown addiction. Though musky, cigarette infested banks, bar floors littered with cheap unabsorbant napkins, and haughty Spanish grandmothers decked out in pearls, fur shoals and bright red lipstick when taking out the garbage, I couldn’t help but eventually turn the corner. Despite the cultural differences, I so appreciated our varying ways of tackling the world – okay, maybe not the cigarettes in public buildings, but everything else was icing on the cake. It wasn’t, however, until that first spring morning when enjoying an array of tapas and wine on a sun dappled terrace that I became hooked.

What is Spain to me? It’s rugged, boisterous and opinionated. It loves nothing more than to tell you a fabulous tale, a juicy story, enhancing every bit of drama it can muster. It desperately cares about appearances, unwilling to do anything that might cause a raised eyebrow, but will nail you to the wall if you care to throw down a good debate. It’s stunning, geographically diverse, culturally passionate, and filled with some of the loveliest people I have ever encountered on the planet.

If there was ever at time the Spanish culture was more beautifully exemplified it was on a long and arduous train trip coming back from Paris. Having broken my foot on a biking tour, I was resigned to carrying my gear, with crutches, from Beaune to Dijon, from Dijon to Paris, from Paris to Irun, and finally, from Irun to Madrid. My saving grace was the telephone call made by my company requesting a porter to be present at every station to help me through the transfer. Not so bad, I thought, but when arriving to Paris, where a chestnut brown haired kid with brilliant green eyes helped the invalid off the train, I was met by my surly knight in matte gray smelling of cheap cologne and stale nicotine. His job was specifically to help me, but rather than lend a hand, he chose to instigate a fight through backhanded insults, flippant remarks, and a death-defying joyride through the vacuous station of Gare du Nord. Passing sunburnt tourists and hunched old men playing cards on wobbly wooden benches, we eventually arrived to my train with only a few minutes to spare. Hours later, the train hiccuped to a slow halt in Irun, awakening me from a deep slumber – limbs found sprawled out in a garage sale like fashion. Stumbling off the train, two men with toothy grins and a rickety chariot boisterously shouted, “Here is our adventurous woman! How was your trip so far guapisima?!” Blocking the sun from my eyes, I let several days of trapped air slowly escape my lungs in a deep relaxed sigh, while attempting to explain my arduous story from the crack of the bone to my Formula one wheelchair ride. Taking my hands, the shorter rounder Porter with bushy black caterpillars for eyebrows giggled, “Ah, this is why you should’ve simply stayed in one of our many bars enjoying a good Spanish wine with friends – a little laughter, good tapas and less drama! Sounds better, no?” Helping me into my final train, the lankier porter returned with a clear plastic cup filled with table wine. “Hasta luego Gabriella!” he chirped excitedly, as he placed his sun-kissed hands on my head while kissing on either cheek. “And remember, more wine and less biking!”

Despite all of the hardships we’ve had while stumbling our way through culture shock, poor customer service, and a sincere lack of immediacy for anything, I can’t help but smile for the number of wonderful experiences I’ve had in Spain, equally matched in Portugal.

Appreciating the Moment

Portugal on the other hand is vastly different from Spain. There is a sweet gentleness that spills from its pours. Many Portuguese speak with a singsong whisper, a gentle “sh” sounds that lulls you to sleep, and a trusting embrace that creates a heartfelt feeling of family. From warm delicious soups, sumptuously sweet Moscatels and vast amounts of boisterous laughter, Portugal has become a fast friend, a country that I will never deny an invitation to visit.

When I think of Portugal, my mind immediately goes to mouthwatering grilled fish and a glass of Arinto. I imagine long walks along the boardwalk in Lisbon with a gentle breeze consistently at my back; gorgeous, bright sunny days and beautiful train rides through the rustic Portuguese landscape. My mind also wanders to a magical afternoon spent at Cortes de Cima listening to Opera as the late summer sun casts deep orange shadows across rows of stunning vines; lunch with friends among the thriving green landscape of Rias Baixas, and the stunning terraced lands of the Douro.

Granted, I may never fully appreciate the vast number of cold showers and freezing cold bedrooms we’ve experienced throughout Portugal, but I can say that a glass of Port and a warm fire will always make up for it. How do I know this? Spend a cold, overcast evening at the Villar d’Allen Estate in the heart of Porto, and you will quickly realize how incredible company, a good conversation and roaring fire with a bottle of great port can make all the difference in the world. With 300 years of stories embedded in every crack and seam, the house literally breathes. You cannot walk a foot without stumbling upon a historical artifact dating back to the 17th century, or a book from the 14th. It’s absolutely incredible, a work of art, but come evening, when the cool winds bury themselves deep into your bones, you start eyeing that port as if it was a elixir of the Gods. And fortunately, when you’re at the Allen’s, it usually is.

This type of living museum is unique to the Villar d’Allen Estate, but Portugal as a whole is a testament to living history, and an incredible reason to visit!

The Never Ending Story

In short, for as long as I live, or visit, Iberia, you will never lack stories. If anything, this is merely a transition, a blip in the radar, a short evolution if you will. There is too much left to share, to experience, to communicate for us to stop cold. If anything, it’s simply a chance for you to keep experimenting, to keep pushing your cultural, gastronomical and vinous boundaries to perpetually try something new. We’ll never stop, and we hope you won’t either!

With a Full Heart and Much Appreciation,

Gabriella Opaz

(Photos by Ryan Opaz)

Cooking up a Farewell Feast with Moscatel

Sonia Nolasco — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 18:46:00 +0000

Parting is such sweet sorrow. That Bard really knew what he was talking about, didn’t he? It’s this way with Gabriella and Ryan’s announcement that Catavino is saying goodbye. My emotions were mixed at hearing the news. Initially, I was disappointed that I wouldn’t have my monthly outpouring of a favorite Portuguese dish, wine or region that I’m used to sharing with all of you through the lens of an expat living in America. And I thought of how much I would miss your comments at the end of my stories; the inspirations, the exchanges, the camaraderie of like-mindedness.

Then that other saying sunk in: the only constant is change. And it sounds like Gabriella and Ryan’s change of plans is a positive one. With that in mind we have only to be thrilled for them and grateful for the time they brought us Catavino. It’s a sweet sorrow indeed. Personally, I’m very happy to have stumbled upon Catavino one day. It’s given me a voice in an area I rarely have time to dabble in because of day-to-day responsibilities. It’s also increased my appetite to doing more of this type of writing—when and on where, I don’t know, but the seed has been planted. Then another thought sunk in: maybe I’ll finally start my own blog. But that’s still to be determined. Actually, I have a few personal writing projects I have been neglecting. Maybe I’ll focus on that instead. Who knows? But for now you can find me on Twitter @reddishSonia and on LinkedIn.

For my last Catavino recipe piece, I’m inspired only by the sweetness in life. By the sweetness that Gabriella and Ryan have shown me, the sweetness that you the reader has bestowed on me with each of your “likes” and “tweets” and “comments.” How could I translate this sweetness into Portuguese food and wine, I thought? The answer: Moscatel. My favorite is the Moscatel from Setubal. And this summer the Moscatel de Setubal Reserva 2006 was awarded first place in the 11^th annual Muscats du Monde wine competition in Frontignan-la-Peyrade (Maison Voltaire) in the Languedoc Roussillon Region of France. Sweet!

But Moscatel, which I regularly have at home, is not simply a lovely drink to accompany my espresso or a piece of decadent chocolate. It’s also an excellent wine to cook with, especially when using gamier meats. In this piece, I want to pay homage to some of the places and people that have inspired my cooking with Moscatel. The first recipe that follows below was inspired by a duck dish at the Pousada de Palmela in the district of Setubal on a vacation to Portugal. Theirs was fancy, schmancy and delicious. Mine is a rustic roasted dish, refined only by the Moscatel. The second, a lamb dish, is inspired by Catavino reader Pedro Almeida who in my Beira Baixa: Roads Less Traveled piece suggested I visit the restaurant Pe de Vinho in Azeitao near Setubal, since I shared with him that my husband’s grandparents live nearby. His description of the restaurant’s Moscatel and honey smothered lamb made my mouth water. I have yet to try it, but I couldn’t wait, so I concocted my own recipe here at home. The third one pays tribute to one of my favorite Connecticut restaurants, The Schoolhouse at Cannondale, not too far from where we live. It’s not Portuguese, but it offers up a hot chocolate that I’m certain will delight anybody (young or old) no matter where they hail from on the globe. There are traces of honey and candied zest in it topped with homemade marshmallows. In my version, I created a hot chocolate spiked with Moscatel, which always leaves hints of orange and honey on my tongue. Since I’m not a very good baker, I stayed away from attempting to make the marshmallows. But you can purchase some or finish the chocolaty elixir off, as I like to do, with a dollop of whip cream and flurries of cocoa powder.

Cheers to Gabriella and Ryan’s new beginnings—and a happy holiday season and New Year to everyone!

It’s truly been a pleasure and privilege to write for Catavino.

Muito obrigada,

Sonia Andresson-Nolasco

Duck Moscatel

Inspired by Pousada de Palmela

Ingredients:
1 duck
1 head of garlic
6 shallots
1 large onion
1 large lemon
1 large orange
Fingerling potatoes
Red young potatoes
Fresh rosemary
Fresh parsley
2 cups of Moscatel
1 cup white dry wine
Olive oil
Black pepper
Red pepper flakes
Garlic powder
Dry rosemary

Preparation:

Day Before: Wash the duck and cut off excess fatty skin. Slice the onion and cover the bottom of a baking proof tray with it; make sure the tray is large enough to accommodate the duck and the potatoes. Place the duck on top of the onions. Sprinkle the salt, garlic powder, black pepper and red pepper flakes on duck to taste. Squeeze on it the juice of the lemon and orange, including into the carcass and stuff it with a couple of whole garlic cloves, rosemary sprigs and a couple of shallots cup lengthwise. Scatter the rest of the garlic cloves and shallots around the duck, leave some of the garlic with its skin on because when the dish is done, it’s a treat to squeeze the roasted garlic out and use as a spread on toasted bread. In a separate bowl whisk the Moscatel and white wine and then pour over the duck and inside the carcass. Add a cup and a half of olive oil and marry all the ingredients by rubbing them together all over the duck. Cover the tray with foil and leave in the fridge overnight or at least a few hours before roasting.

Day of: Wash the potatoes and cut them lengthwise and leave skin on (since cooking with skin make sure they’re washed well). In a large bowl add salt to the potatoes to taste, garlic powder, olive oil and dry rosemary. Make sure the potatoes are covered in the mixture and set aside. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees or desired temperature depending on your oven, and place the duck in it covered with the foil for about 20 minutes and lower temperature to about 450 degrees. Remove from the oven and add the potatoes and put back in the oven without the foil this time. It’ll likely take about an hour and a half for the duck to roast. When the duck skin starts to look crispy, remove from the oven and turn the duck and bathe it with the marinade, and also turn the potatoes. Let it roast until the skin is crispy and potatoes start to get crispy at the edges, too. If the duck is still not crispy enough but the potatoes are or vice versa, remove either one and set aside covered with foil and place the item that needs more cooking back in the oven. Finish the dish with freshly chopped parsley. Note: if you like fruit with your gamey meat, you can add apples or figs to this dish, too. Wine: A Dao Jaen or Douro Tinta Roriz.

Lamb Moscatel

Inspired by Pe de Vinho via Pedro Almeida

Ingredients:
1 Rack of Lamb
Red young potatoes
Dry oregano
Fresh rosemary
Fresh parsley
Black pepper
1 lemon
2 Table spoons of honey
2 cups of Moscatel
Garlic powder
Paprika
1 head of garlic
Olive Oil

Preparation:

Day Before: Season the lamb with the salt, garlic powder, paprika and black pepper to taste. Squeeze the juice of the lemon on both sides of the lamb rack in a baking tray large enough to accommodate the lamb and the potatoes. Drench with one and half cup of olive oil (or to taste) and a generous amount of dry oregano. Reserve a few drops of the lemon juice and add to a small bowl, along with the honey and the Moscatel. Whisk all the ingredients together and pour over the lamb. Add the rosemary sprigs and garlic cloves to the tray and cover with foil and let it sit in the fridge overnight or a few hours before roasting.

Day of: Wash the potatoes and cut lengthwise with skin on. Season with salt and garlic power to taste and cover with olive oil and set aside. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees or according to your oven and add the potatoes to the tray. Place in the oven, roast for 10 minutes and lower to 450 or 400 degrees. When the rack of lamb is showing some charring, remove and turn and then place back in the oven. Roast again until the lamb shows color on the other side. Keep in mind that lamb is best served medium, so don’t overcook. You can use a thermometer to help. Insert away from the bone; should be ready at 140 degrees. Another trick is to heat up a skillet and quickly char both sides of the lamb before putting back on the tray and in oven; this seals up the moisture in the meat. If the potatoes aren’t crispy yet, remove the lamb and place on a cutting board covered with foil. Let it rest while the potatoes finish. Once the potatoes are done, remove and set aside. Cut the rack of lamb into individual chops and add back into the tray to smother in the sauce and serve with chopped parsley. Wine: An Alentejo Syrah or a Setubal Castelao.

Hot Chocolate Moscatel

Inspired by the Schoolhouse at Cannondale

Ingredients:
1 3.5 oz of semi-sweet bar of chocolate (I used Pure Icelandic Chocolate)
2 cups of milk
4 Tablespoons of Moscatel (or to taste)
Whipped Cream
Cocoa Powder

Preparation:
Chop the chocolate bar and melt in a cup of simmering warm water. Once it’s melted add the Moscatel. Boil the milk and add to the melted chocolate. Pour into mugs; add whipped cream and cocoa powder to finish. Note: You can also let cool in the fridge and serve cold in the warmer months. Wine: A shot of Moscatel. The more Moscatel, the merrier!

How it all Began, a Quick Look Back at the Early Years

Ryan Opaz — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 21:06:30 +0000

When we first moved to Spain, we arrived with almost nothing. Our Spanish consisted of ”hola”, “gracias” and after a couple of days hanging out with other Spaniards, “Vale”, the ubiquitous “ok”.

Our friends were back in Minnesota, but we were in Madrid and lucky enough to have a place to live. A fellow TEFL student offered up a room in her shared apartment which was about the size of a small closet. It had two thin twin mattresses on the floor, a small wooden wardrobe, and a tiny alcove where I placed a board on a stack of boxes to create a makeshift desk.

Our money was limited to a few thousand dollars in savings which we promised we would only use half of, and if we reached that nebulous halfway mark without either a job or stability, we agreed to buy a plane ticket and head back home. That day came in about 8 months, yet neither of us had a desire to leave. Our possessions included an old Dell Inspiron 1150, a palm pilot with a bluetooth collapsable keyboard (the height of technology), a few books, a bag of clothes, 2 pairs of hiking boots, and some of my favorite cooking utensils from when I was back in the States.

To make enough to stay afloat Gabriella quickly dove into English teaching as was the plan. Running each day from location to location, she took an untold numbers of metro rides through the Madrid underground to teach ornery bankers and tech specialists English, a language that most rather not have bothered with. She brought in a few euros a month to pay for the room we had in the apartment that was shared with 2 other couples. Sharing made the rent a reasonable 300 euros or so per month.

Working from home, and being an ex-chef, I cooked dinner for the household on most evenings, after spending the day sitting in our living room, staring at the computer, searching for a clue as to how I could work in the Spanish wine industry. Each day, I would explore new websites, like Google, seeking out new trends. But the truth is, I didn’t know what I was doing. So I headed out by bus, often late at night, landing in foreign cities without a place to stay or reason to be there, just a dream.

My goal was to ask enough questions to get someone to notice me, and in truth, my questions at that point were quite nebulous. When asked why we moved to Spain, our standard response was that we wanted a change of perspective, to explore new worlds, and that I had a dream to work in the wine industry. Gabriella, selflessly at the time, was there to support that dream, and for her own part, to explore the land that her family left many generations ago. We both figured a headstrong attitude and desire to succeed at something would eventually land us in the promise land. Little did we know.

So the onus was on me to find a “real” job. Gabriella couldn’t do it all. It wasn’t until my first trip to Portugal that I found a few indications of my future path, but nothing concrete or solid to sink my teeth into.

It was on my return to Spain by bus that I landed in Toro, where I for the first time got an idea of the challenge that laid ahead. After an very interesting journey, one that will be shared at some point in the near future, I found myself in a cold and blustery Toro, wandering through narrow alleyways to my first ever winery appointment. What for? I wasn’t sure, but I had had one winery respond to my request to visit and I wasn’t going to miss any opportunity.

At the winery that day, I found myself playing the role of the lost foreigner, unaware that late February in Toro was not the time of the year for tourists. Rejadorada had taken some modest steps to install a wine tourism regime, which consisted of a video in Spanish – of which I understood “Welcome” and the word “Tempranillo” – and a room full of old wine harvesting tools and machinery sitting as life models patiently as I wandered past. I politely watched the video and nodded to the gentleman, my guide, who spoke about as much English as I spoke Spanish; and when it was finished, we ended up at a bar where my first “professional” wine tasting was to take place. Wines were poured, and while I shivered a bit with the winds from outside still rattling in my bones, I politely took tasting notes so as to show my interest. Hand gestures it turns out can be very enlightening, and it was in this way that we talked through a series of questions and ideas about their wines and my reason for being in Toro in February. While I don’t remember all we chatted about I do remember at one point realizing the question “why are you here” was being offered up to me.

I remember staring back at him and attempting the fewest words possible to explain that I had come to Spain to work in the wine industry.

“Why” came his astonished response.

“Because, I wanted a change of perspective,” I responded. “and I hoped I could help wineries in Spain to sell wines in America.”

“Oh, well good luck” came his reply with a polite smile and quizzical look of discovery not unlike finding a monkey sitting in the middle of the road as you drove down the highway.

I think I remember, trying to push him for ideas on how I might follow this dream, but with the lack of language or any real idea why I was there, it didn’t lead much further. We enjoyed the wines, while I took notes on my palm pilot for a short while longer. I remember leaving that visit and getting a message that another winery I had hoped to see saying they would need to wait to meet with me until the following day. Another day, meant another hotel room, and more money I didn’t have, which forced me to politely decline and instead, struggling against the sharp winter winds, I headed to the bus station to return to Madrid.

When I got home I think I felt a little less excited and a little more frustrated, and ironically a bit more determined. I still didn’t have a one line answer that made sense to the question, “Why did you come here…” but I knew I had to keep searching.

Between then and February 2008 a lot happened. Catavino was born and I began to design websites to help bring in a little money. We moved to Barcelona, and I logged a few thousand miles on busses late at night knocking at doors in regions I didn’t know – still trying to find the answer as to why I moved here.

A lot has happened since then, Catavino grew up and in time it became a respected resource for informamtion about Iberian wine. I’m still amazed that I don’t have an answer to why we moved here. I guess looking back I would sat that we did it because we didn’t have a solid reason to. If we had known why, we might have been too scared by failure to make it happen. Maybe not.

Catavino has come full circle, and I’m sure for Gabriella too. Today we are exploring what it is we have created and the opportunities that we have made for ourselves and evaluating all of them. You’re not getting rid of us this easily. Stay tuned as we share our final thoughts.

Cheers,

Ryan