Whine On The Rocks

Quandaries...

2013-05-21T19:29:00.001+03:00

Results for the 2013 Decanter World Wine Awards (DWWA) were released earlier this week. Overall, The Rock's performance was not as solid as in previous years with only one Silver Medal being awarded to Sodap's 2002 Saint Barnabas Commandaria. Beyond that, as usual, Cyprus received its fair share of Commended and Bronze medals.

From this and last year's results, it's pretty clear (to me at least) that only a handful of Cypriot wineries have chosen to send their wines to DWWA. Honestly, I wonder why. Do costs outweigh potential benefits? Do awards have little impact on a wine's reputation/sales in the Cypriot market? Are these contests perceived as being "biased" or not good appraisers of the quality of the wines sampled? Dear readers, if you have any insight into this, we'd appreciate your thoughts.

Anyhow, here's the list of awarded wines:

Silver Medals

2002 Sodap Saint Barnabas Commandaria

Bronze Medals

2010 Aes Ambelis Omiros (Maratheftiko)

2010 Vasilikon Winery Ayios Onoufrios (Red Blend)

2009 Vasilikon Winery Methy (Cabernet Sauvignon)

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Muscat

2012 Sodap Kamantarena Xynisteri

2012 Sodap Stroumbeli Maratheftiko Rose

2010 The Anama Concept Commandaria

Commended Medals

2010 Aes Ambelis Ektor (Shiraz)

2012 Aes Ambelis Xinisteri-Semillon

2011 Makkas Winery Chardonnay

2010 Makkas Winery Merlot

2012 Makkas Winery Rodostafylo Rose

2010 Makkas Winery Syrah

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Riesling

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Maratheftiko Rose

2012 Sodap Kamantarena Rhine-Riesling

2012 Sodap Mountain Vines Semillon

2012 Sodap Mountain Vines Cabernet Sauvignon-Maratheftiko

2012 Sodap Stroumbeli Chardonnay

2009 Sodap Stroumbeli Shiraz

2009 The Anama Concept Commandaria

2009 Vouni Panayia Barba Yiannis Maratheftiko

Will You Marry Me?

2013-04-25T20:31:00.001+03:00

A reader once asked me to recommend a fancy restaurant where he could comfortably and confidently get down on one knee before his longtime girlfriend. For a moment, I thought of my own marriage proposal to The Wife, Ph.D., which, depending on who you ask, involved either a stingy long-distance phone call to Cyprus from Ecuador or a scrapbook in Quito's majestic La Compañia church with a string quartet rehearsing on a stage set by the golden altar. "If I ever had to do it again...I mean, renew our vows...and had to pick as venue a restaurant in Nicosia," I told him, "I would choose 1900 Oinou Melathron, the French-inspired bistro tucked away in one of Laiki Geitonia's uncrowded side streets."

Will you marry me?

If what you want is romance, privacy, impeccable service, an imaginative menu and (arguably) Cyprus's best wine list, look no further. This small, intimate restaurant exudes sophistication—hardwood floors, ornate chandeliers, cornflower blue chaises and sofas, long rectangular mirrors, heavy dark drapes framing the windows, a large painting of elegant women seductively staring at the diners. Each table is candlelit and has a champagne bucket on standby. A bar and counter area at the back of the room exhibit large empty bottles of wine and champagne. Upstairs, a few bottles of Chateau Petrus wink at oenophiles from behind the glass cellar wall, and a private dining room awaits distinguished guests.

Aged Cheese Tart with Red Onion Jam

First off, the wine selection shines bright. On our last visit, The Wife, Ph.D., and I drank the 2007 Quinta do Portal Colheita Tinto, a red blend from the Douro in Portugal that bursts with ripe red fruit flavors and runs at around 30 Euros. However, vinous possibilities are endless as the wine list is made up of over six thousands bottles that comprehensively cover both the Old and New World. This includes lauded Bordeaux First Growths, Super Tuscans, Barolos, Burgundy Grand Crus and Napa Valley Cabernets, among dozens of other styles and vintages. Prices range from 20 Euros to "On Request," which means you better be damn sure you want to share a queen-sized bed with her until death does you part because it's going to cost you a kidney in the black market. Goes without saying, though, it isn't a challenge to find a pleasant and affordable wine to match your food of choice with the help of the establishment's resident wine experts.


Chicken Dressed Up in Chorizo

The food too is impressive. Salads, risottos, fresh handmade pastas, a selection of grilled steaks, and seafood, all touched up with a dash of creativity, are on offer. Last time there, we split the cream of aged cheese and crunchy biscuit with red onion jam, a pie of sorts that played the sweet-slash-savory game with the same expertise shown by Little Miss Despot when gnawing on Sophie The Giraffe. Rich and indulgent, the appetizer could have easily been served as a dessert and was the undisputed star of the night. As our main course, The Wife, Ph.D., had the grilled fresh Norwegian salmon with fennel salad, asparagus and orange reduction, while I had a stuffed chicken breast with a creamy chorizo sauce and garlicky potato puree. Both were simple yet well executed, the chorizo lending a nice kick of spice to the chicken and the fennel complementing orange in the only way, well, fennel can. For dessert, we used the same spoon—a romantic gesture on my part—to share the chocolate souffle with mastic ice cream, sesame seed candy and caramelized hazelnuts, dramatically presented as two luscious edible nests.

Nests for Dessert

I never found out from my reader whether he took his unsuspecting girlfriend to 1900 and popped the question. Wherever he did, though, I just hope she said yes and he didn't have to sell any body parts to hirsute, tattooed traffickers for that celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon. Wherever he is, cheers on behalf of the blog.

Whine On The Rock's Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas

Pelendri's Comedy Hour

2013-04-11T11:37:00.001+03:00

Tsiakkas Winery might be The Rock's best club for a wine-themed comedy hour. Owner Costas Tsiakkas is one funny dude. Jokes and amusing tidbits on the wine industry, dropped like bras during Victoria's Secret's Annual Sale, marked our two-hour visit to his secluded winery a few bends away from the Pitsilia village of Pelendri. By the end of the session, some of us wished he'd run a wine class and become our garrulous, charismatic sensei.

Wine shop at Tsiakkas Winery

The winery is a large oldish house ensconced between the hills and surrounded by tall trees. The entrance, somewhat inconvenient for those lugging around a sleeping three-month old on her second official winery visit, is around the back, down a short road leading away from the parking lot. A wooden bar and a well-lit and organized wine shop stocked with Tsiakkas' wines and mementos like cooking aprons emblazoned with the winery's logo greet visitors once they make it up a narrow flight of stairs. Mr. Tsiakkas received us in the winery's tasting area—a long wooden table for twelve shielded by a wall that clumsily attempts to spell out the family name with green and clear bottle bottoms—and dragged us back to the ground floor to explore its premises.

The Tsiakkas tour was an excellent complement to the one we had experienced at Zambartas Winery. Instead of focusing on the technical aspects of wine-making, Mr. Tsiakkas told us stories of yore, recounting how our Cypriot forefathers distilled village wines and playing show-and-tell with antique contraptions used to store and transport wine and zivania eons ago. He then went on long oenology-themed rants—how soon should Cypriot wines be consumed (whites within six months of release, rosés less), food and wine pairings (Tsiakkas rosé with lobster pasta), the advantages of vineyards at higher elevations, and the variety of aromas found in wine (petrol in aged German Riesling as an example). His tale on how he chanced upon his amber-toned zivania by "forgetting" a batch of the clear liquor in an oak-barrel was quite comedic. A bit later, he dropped his best joke, sticking the landing like a well-oiled Olympic gymnast: "Cyprus rosés are deep and vibrant in color...unlike those from France, which look like lukewarm water left over from soaking a bright red panty."

Yes, I am funny.

We tasted six wines—two white, one rose, two reds and Commandaria—and his barrel-aged zivania. His rosé, the 2012 Rodinos, emits aromas of cranberries, pomegranate and strawberries, and, while bright, lacks the punch to the jaw of other Cypriot rosés. The 2011 Porfyros blend is medium-bodied, jammy, chewy and straightforward, a pleasant and affordable (about 6 Euros) match to meze and a red that can be slightly chilled for consumption during our scorching summers. The 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, a gold winner in the 2011 Cyprus Wine Competition, has lovely notes of dark forest fruits, coffee and dark chocolate, but is quite tannic from the get-go and needs time to smooth out. The Commandaria, a bit pricey for local standards at about 25 Euros, showed the sweet wine's world-class potential, while the zivania, which mimicked a cognac or armagnac, was somewhat rough around the edges for my taste. Later that night, we drank the wonderful 2012 Sauvignon Blanc (made from grapes cultivated in high elevations above the town of Agros) with its sun-kissed tropical (passion fruit!) aroma and brimming with citrus flavors on the finish. In my opinion, this is, along with Domaine Vlassides's, the best of its variety on the island.

So, if you need a respite from these dark days sponsored by Destroika®, give Mr. Tsiakkas a call and book a seat for you and your fancy friends to Pelendri's most happening LOL session with quality wine to boot.

Hunting for (Grand) Gold

2013-03-15T11:55:00.002+02:00

A Friday quick-hitter. Results are in for the 13th Thessaloniki International Wine Competition (which took place from March 4th to the 6th, 2013) and, surprise, surprise, one of our own received one of the three Grand Gold Medals awarded. Besides the grand prize, KEO, Kolios and SODAP garnered a Gold medal each. I'd be curious to know how many of The Rock's wineries submitted samples this year since (usually) many more of them are commended. Voila the results.

Grand Gold Medal

2011 Fikardos Winery Cabernet Sauvignon

Gold Medal

KEO Saint John Commandaria

2009 Kolios Cabernet Sauvignon

2012 SODAP Maratheftiko Rose

By the way, Nicosia, you can track down Fikardos Winery's 2011 Cabernet Sauvignon vintage at Oinotria Wine Cellar on Themistokli Dervi.

In Our Element

2013-03-14T12:55:00.001+02:00

Cellar at Zambartas Wineries

As a (pseudo) wine blogger, I am not industrious enough to visit and write about The Rock's wineries on a semi-regular basis. Financial constraints, the size of my liver and The Wife, Ph.D.'s indecisiveness put a damper on any desire I might have to hit the winding roads each weekend, tour a handful and load up my station wagon with cases of Xynisteri, Maratheftiko and Shiraz. Once in a while, though, my bullheadedness barrels through and The Wife, Ph.D. can only nod as I lead her up the mountain into the arms of a local winemaker.

So in an obvious lapse of parental judgment, the stage was set a few weeks ago for Little Miss Despot's first winery visit—a long drive to Zambartas Winery, one of The Rock's best and most consistent wineries, a didactic presentation on wine-making, a tasting of six excellent wines, great conversation, and multiple breastfeeding and diaper changing sessions in the back seat of my soccer mom car. My Zolpidem Supplier, Radio Free Cyprus and Cousin #2, brave enough to join us on our adventure, can attest to the stink that emanated from inside our vehicle.

A piece by Hambis in the tasting mezzanine

The Dijon-mustard-toned winery (which doubles as Mr. Akis Zambartas' residence) sits at the edge of Ayios Amvrosios, a village just northwest of Limassol, and overlooks a sprawl of vineyards and hills. What first captures your attention upon walking in is the oenologist's wonderful collection of engravings by his close friend and noted Cypriot artist Hambis Tsangaris decorating its walls. A touching portrait of Mr. Zambartas hangs as centerpiece on a living room wall and several other pieces are showcased on the metallic stairwell that descends into the tasting and vinification areas. The tasting room, a welcome addition since my last visit pre-blog, is a modern yet warm mezzanine with shiny red cabinets for storage, lacquered barrels topped with clear glass as bars, and a long plastic white table to accommodate the imbibers. From the balcony, one can peer down and see the many steel fermentation tanks, each with its own humorous moniker, standing in a row like shiny, metallic watchtowers. Overall, the winery's facilities are not extravagant and might convince the foolish and/or uninitiated (like Radio Free Cyprus and myself) that all one needs to make good wine is a medium-sized warehouse and some start-up capital to buy the necessary equipment. And that's precisely why my nous is better suited to "write" (cough, cough) than to keep a business afloat.

Akis Zambartas in his element!

Mr. Zambartas, former winemaker and general manager at KEO, led us downstairs for the educational component of the tour, a detailed explanation on the agricultural, biological and chemical processes involved in wine-making. Following an informative (chemists rejoice!) and engaging 25-minute session, we headed back upstairs to the tasting mezzanine where wine glasses and a simple white bread and cheese platter awaited. The Zambartas lineup consists of two whites, one rose and three reds, each among the best of their kind on The Rock. The 2012 Zambartas Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc blend recalled grapefruits, pears and a touch of white flowers on the nose and had a bewildering hint of spicy ~~Turkish~~ Cypriot delight and honey on the palate. The 2012 Zambartas Rose, a wine which I have waxed ecstatic about in the past, is as good as ever, likewise the 2011 Zambartas Maratheftiko, a favorite of mine, and the 2011 Shiraz Lefkada, arguably Zambartas's most refined, powerful and intriguing wine. The 2011 Zambartas Epicurean, a Merlot and Lefkada blend, though, surprised me the most. This wine's 2010 vintage combined Maratheftiko, Merlot, Shiraz and Lefkada and, in my opinion, paled in comparison to the new-and-improved bottling which had interesting plum and dark forest fruit notes and was a lot more focused, leaner and elegant.

L.M.D. in her element?

Even though Marcos Zambartas, the younger half of the wine-making team and latest interviewee on the blog's "Case of Questions," was busy tending the vines, Mr. Zambartas and Marleen Brouwer, the winery's social media, P.R. and marketing machine, sat with us and discussed what the future beholds for the family business. Like Tsiakkas and Kyperounda wineries, a high-quality Commandaria is in the works (barrel aging right now!) and should be released in 2014. Furthermore, simple and affordable red and white wines will soon be for sale in restaurants and hotels, a clear sign of the industry's need to cater to tourists and the lighter wallet during these times of recession. Overall, our hosts' graciousness, hospitality and vats of knowledge, combined with the inviting setting, make Zambartas Winery an ideal place to learn about and taste some of Cyprus' best wines.

On our way out, I purchased half a case of wine, including two bottles of the Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc blend as a puppy treat for The Wife, Ph.D., being such a good sport. We stopped at the beautiful Apokryfo Traditional Houses in Lofou for lunch at Agrino Restaurant (unfortunately overrated!) and then rushed back to Nicosia before Little Miss Despot woke up, begging once again for wine-spiked milk and a wet cotton-ball scrub down. For better or for worse, this is our new element.

A Case of Questions With Marcos Zambartas, Zambartas Winery

2013-02-22T11:42:00.000+02:00

As most of you know, Marcos Zambartas is the younger half of the father-son oenology tag-team at Zambartas Winery, one of The Rock's most distinguished wineries and Little Miss Despot's first (vinous) love. Following a visit to the winery last weekend (yes, I will write about it!), I had a chance to introduce the Zambartas family to the blog's Case of Questions. Marcos was kind enough to participate, and here are his thought-provoking answers. Salud!

The Zambartas lineup (minus Xynisteri)

WHOTRS: Why wine?

MZ: Wine satisfies my need to create in an exciting world full of passionate people. It is inspiring and relaxing since I come [in] contact with nature and I have the opportunity to add value to the brand 'Cyprus.' It requires a lot of effort, thinking, constant (r)evolution, which are traits that I want to have in my life.

WHOTRS: First wine that really captured your attention? How old were you?

MZ: Not easy to isolate the one. Satisfaction from a bottle of wine depends on your surroundings, the people who made it and the people that you enjoy it with.

WHOTRS: All-time favorite bottle of wine?

MZ: Different bottles for different occasions.

WHOTRS: Favorite wine-producing region? Why?

MZ: Still exploring.

WHOTRS: Favorite wine-and-food pairing?

MZ: I recently had Zambartas Rosé with kefalotiri (hard cheese) and fig jam. It was phenomenal!

WHOTRS: What is Cyprus missing when it comes to wine?

MZ: Professional vineyard growers.

WHOTRS: What do you foresee for Cyprus's wine industry?

MZ: Better and less wine.

WHOTRS: What do you enjoy most about your work in the wine world?

MZ: Tasting wine from barrels to decide which origin of oak, toasting and grain size is best for the wine.

WHOTRS: What is your "Five Year Plan" for your business?

MZ: Enhance the quality of the wine by primarily growing our own grapes and increase the export business.

WHOTRS: Who is your favorite wine personality? Why?

MZ: Cannot say really. Everyone is special in a good or bad way.

WHOTRS: Any embarrassing episodes involving spilled wine, corkscrews, sommeliers or drunken behavior?

MZ: Too many. [Smiley face]

WHOTRS: Of course, your all-time favorite ISLAND wine?

MZ: It has to be Zambartas Rosé on a warm afternoon with good friends and a designated driver.

For more information, you can reach Marcos at Zambartas Wineries.

Sunday Morning With The Asparaguru

2013-02-20T10:39:00.001+02:00

A version of this article appeared in The Financial Mirror issue of February 22-28, 2012. Since it's currently wild asparagus season, I thought I'd share it with you.

Therein hides the wild asparagus...

Evading thorny situations are not my specialty. That obviously came to the fore one random overcast and cold Sunday morning in the fields near the village of Agrokipia, only twenty-five minutes outside of Nicosia and right off the single-lane road that meanders into the Pitsilia region immediately east of Mount Olympus. Decked in black sweatpants, a warm fleece jacket and running shoes, my hands protected by cushiony and expensive goalkeeping gloves, I repeatedly dug a strong tree branch into the bundle of spines that provides shelter to agrelia, the island’s wild asparagus. The goal seemed simple—to create enough room through the prickly brush to handpick the few asparagus shoots that might be tucked in the ground. In reality, though, wild asparagus picking is a grueling game that requires a combination of patience, good eyesight, dexterity, tolerance for pain and a willingness to get down and dirty. It is somewhat like going to protracted war with nature.

Hunting

In retrospect, it was quite wise to bring along my friend Marios’s mother-in-law and her years of picking experience to show us the ropes. First off, Marios and I had to dispel any preconceived notion we had regarding what a wild asparagus plant looks like. The grayish-green bush is a labyrinth of branches, each jutting out dozens of small and very sharp thorns, that hides the vegetable from plain eyesight. Without proper assistance, neophytes would be hard-pressed to recognize the correct plant. Furthermore, the only way to reach the asparagus—if in fact there are any visible ones under that particular plant—is to push aside the protrusions with any sort of robust stick-like instrument and open a gap large enough to move in with your arm and carefully pull the shoots out. On the way in, it is likewise prudent to mind the spines (heavy-duty gardening gloves help) and either dig one’s feet deep into the ground for added stability or kneel down for greater extension. To make things even trickier, the vegetable is often hard to spot since it is so well camouflaged by all the other branches nearby. Given all these complications, it is not surprising to find wild asparagus at local supermarkets selling for about six Euros for a rather meager bunch.

Once we were done searching under one bush, we would move on to the next, each time praying to hit the mother lode, quickly fill up our white bucket and shorten our somewhat fatiguing outing. Little by little, our collection of wild asparagus—some short like a thimble, others as long as a grown man’s arm—became a semi-respectable batch. I must admit that most of it was tracked down by our astute aspara-guru, Marios and I adding only a handful of shoots to the gatherings. After a couple hours scavenging through the soggy fields, our feet and pants’ hemlines crusted with mud courtesy of the rainiest Cypriot winter in years, we called it a day and sped back to Nicosia to cut, wash and divide our spoils.

Cleaning wild asparagus is a relatively simple task when compared to the arduous gathering process. However, what is most frustrating is realizing that only about forty percent of the batch is actually edible. To clean, snap the stem into roughly four centimeter pieces as you work your way down from the pointy tip, discarding whatever is left once it simply bends or no longer breaks off cleanly. Then, run the salvaged asparagus under cold water and pat dry. After all that work, we had only collected enough to serve as a side dish for four, making me doubt whether it was worth our time to hit the trenches and scour the fields in search of the vegetable in the first place.

The yummy end product

Cypriot preparation methods usually consist of tossing the asparagus with a few lightly beaten eggs and some olive oil in a sizzling pan. To soften its natural bitterness, my mother-in-law suggested briefly blanching the vegetable before sautéing for a few minutes and then adding the eggs, salt and ground black pepper. Other people prefer coating the pieces in olive oil before jacking up the heat on the stove-top, stirring until the asparagus turn a bright green and then mixing in the remaining ingredients. Once at home, I tried both techniques and the results were rather similar, the latter being just a bit oilier than the former probably as a result of my unsteady hand when pouring the oil. In my position as daily apron-wearer of the household, I believe the key is to not overcook the shoots so that they remain crunchy and hold back on the number of eggs to allow the umami-packed vegetable to shine through. A good rule of thumb is to use two eggs for each cup of asparagus.

Overall, my experiment cooking the asparagus was quite successful. The pieces turned a beautiful vibrant green and remained firm to the bite. They also kept their tanginess and just a hint of bitterness that was softened nicely by the eggs’ creaminess. If matching with wine, I believe it would have been perfect alongside a chilled glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, Santorini Assyrtiko (unoaked) or one of Cyprus’s wonderful rosés.

In the end, did it make sense to hit the countryside early on a gloomy Sunday morning to learn how to pick wild asparagus? I would say yes since there is always something quite satisfying about harvesting your own vegetables, fruits and herbs. If in trained hands, the food usually tastes better as each bite serves as a well-earned reward for standing up to all kinds of hardships—pricks, sludge, itchy eyes and the eventual sore back. So rest assured, we will be back next month to comb the wet land for bladder campion, thyme and any other wild edible greens available to foolish local adventurers like ourselves.

Mapping Cyprus Wine

2013-02-18T11:56:00.005+02:00

Here's WineriesCyprus.com, a cool little gadget developed by Elena Sophocleous Toth and designed by Robert Toth. Basically, the website maps out all Cyprus wineries, includes contact information for each, and allows users to rate and comment on their favorite ones. I believe it's a handy tool to visually locate wineries across The Rock and could be very helpful when organizing wine tasting excursions. Kudos to the Toth Team!

Barreling Down The Falls

2013-02-11T12:36:00.004+02:00

As of yesterday, I am the proud owner of a French oak barrel. My original plan was to go over Troodos' Caledonia Falls stashed inside it as a daring publicity stunt for the blog, but Little Miss Despot and The Wife, Ph.D., forced me to reconsider. Any other brilliant ideas, dear readers?

Whomever first guesses the winery that sold me the barrel will receive a Whine On The Rocks' kitchen towel. One answer per participant, and family (Radio Free Cyprus and Cousin #2, hush-hush!) and close friends aren't eligible.

One For The Environment

2013-02-06T16:44:00.003+02:00

This post was inspired by a good friend of mine who's working as a consultant for Greentizen, a South American start-up that seeks "to leverage the power of Social Networks to promote and coordinate environmentally friendly actions." Check it out!

As a wine blogger, father and husband, it is quite challenging to strike a balance between the tasting of hundreds of high-quality wines and a lifelong duty to my daughter and wife to keep our household’s carbon footprint at a minimal level. Brace yourself because an average bottle of wine, according to Mike Berners-Lee’s How Bad Are Bananas?: The Carbon Footprint of Everything, contributes approximately 1040 grams of CO_2e to the environment with about 70 percent of it being produced during the grapes’ harvest, vinification and bottling. If, like my wife and me, you consume two bottles a week, your yearly carbon footprint from tickling your palate with Dionysus’ drink of choice translates to a 225 kilometer drive in a run-of-the-mill car. Of course, this begs the question, what can you do to reduce your carbon footprint from uncorking a bottle of wine?

Mike Berners-Lee, an expert in carbon foot-printing, and Tyler Colman (aka Dr. Vino), a noted wine blogger and university professor, offer several suggestions, some better suited than others for the environmentally-conscious oenophile.

In my opinion, Berners-Lee’s best proposal is to consume locally-produced wine, a habit that “could cut the footprint by 25 per cent” by reducing ground, air and maritime transportation. For example, if you live in Uruguay, instead of picking up a bottle of Argentine Malbec or Chilean Carmenere, selections that probably made it to your local cava via land, choose the local Tannat, a variety originally from southwestern France that has become Uruguay’s national grape. For one, I’ve embraced this practice as I tend to prefer Cypriot wines over flashier options that have racked up long distances to make it to our island. Besides, in times of financial difficulties, local industry—be it here in Nicosia or in Montevideo—needs our support.

Another good suggestion is to opt for organic and “natural” wines over conventional ones. Both organic and natural wines avoid the use of herbicides, pesticides, fertilizers and other artificial chemical additives, and many of them rely on hand-picked grapes instead of mechanically harvested ones. Per Dr. Colman, “organic farming has lower greenhouse gas (GHG) intensity than conventional farming,” even though the difference is not as drastic as one would expect.

On the downside, buying boxed or Tetra Pak wines, which according to Berners-Lee cuts carbon emissions “by a factor of five,” limits your choices and leaves a lot to be desired in terms of quality. Non-discerning consumers who are looking for simple and affordable everyday wines could very well switch to these environment-friendly recipients, but I don’t envision myself or many aficionados giving up elegant and complex bottled wines and the fanfare that involve their opening. Albeit, as more producers adopt these containers and start packaging higher quality wines, I could adapt for the sake of my daughter’s future. For now, though, it’s best to consume a Magnum (1.5L) or Jeroboam (3L) rather than the standard 750ml bottle given the lower glass-to-wine ratio, or wines by companies like, for example, Palo Alto and Emiliana in Chile that have switched to eco-friendly lightweight bottles.

Of course, at the end of the day, the most obvious contribution to Mother Earth would be to curtail your overall wine consumption, but where is the fun in that?

Something Different #2

2013-01-28T10:25:00.001+02:00

I originally submitted this story fragment to a competition organized by "Reading the Lines: "the Other" in the stories we tell about ourselves," a project funded by UNDP-ACT and run by the Cyprus Association on Books for Young People. Even though it did not make the final cut, I thought I'd share it with you in this second installment of "Something Different."

The perfect first sentence never came easily to Samuel. He spent hours planted on a creaky mahogany stool as inadequate words tumbled onto A4 sheets of scrap paper and his green pen doodled them out of their misery. Instead of crumpling up each failed attempt, pages full of angry scratches, cartoonish faces and repetitive patterns became airplanes (The Moth, The Stealth!) that glided out the only window of his sixth floor studio. Often, Samuel peered over the ledge until his words disappeared behind other soot-laden buildings or dived down like a kamikaze onto the sidewalk below. He then returned to his messy Davenport desk and the stacks of paper waiting to be weighed down by his fickle scribbling.

Telling people about Candela’s murder only made things harder. His memory of her unveiled itself and drowned out any semblance of a thought process. A humid midnight inside Club “La Venia.” High-heeled women in flowing dresses skipped to the Nuyorican salsa, their partners biting their own lower lips and spinning the girls around like flimsy tops. Cheap watered-down rum and light beer spilled out of plastic tumblers, and the strobe lights raced against the brass section’s trilling. Samuel held Candela close on the dance floor, peppering her chocolate-toned neck with short kisses and naked toes with untrained footsteps.

Caption to be used as "inspiration."

He creased another page and ventured towards the window. A gust of wind swept the plane (The Arrow, The Dart!) and it spun uncontrollably and darted the roof of a parked white sedan. Part of him believed the city would collect his sophomoric language, recycle it and reward him with a more promising beginning. Samuel imagined garbage men in their fluorescent yellow vests, grey rubber boots and unbecoming smell spearing his aeronautical origami with their paper pick-up sticks and tossing them into the dumpster, a ravenous mouth that opened wide and spat out words threaded together like dense Zardozi embroidery. As the city was cleansed each dawn of its impurities, so too he thought was his inability to move past unlocked.

Candela and Samuel walked arm in arm, the music’s beat long gone from their bodies but that anxiety that comes with first-time love creeping in as a warm light through cracked blinds. A gang of miscreants, five lanky men with grimy tattoos that rolled from under their tight white t-shirts like sinister clouds, accosted them four blocks away from Samuel’s studio. They heckled Candela, mocking her wide hips, her burnt wheat complexion, the unusual staccato of her pleas. Two of them locked Samuel from his neck and waist and forced him to watch. The skinny bald one with red wire-rimmed glasses and swastikas patched onto his militaristic cargo pants belted out obscenities, smacked Candela across her teary face and tugged at her obsidian, iron-straightened hair. Ad nauseam, he yelled that Candela (The Black Bitch!) did not belong. The other two cackled and joined in on their twisted version of social justice. An unsettling fog moved in as if commandeered by evil. Samuel sobbed and with little fight left in him resigned himself to a life removed from the garrulous Latina he loved.

With a thick black permanent marker, he spelled out H-A-T-E C-R-I-M-E on the back of an outdated Cantonese take-out menu. Samuel carefully folded the food-stained sheet into an origami balloon (The Balloon!) and set it on the windowsill. One quick flick and the cube disappeared. As a journalist, understanding and deconstructing run-of-the-mill crimes was effortless. Albeit, the sheer hate evinced that moist night latched onto him unexplained—the beasts’ foaming mouths and bloodshot eyes, their song and dance of reproach, that inhumane and senseless attack on difference. The emergency room’s doctors proclaimed Candela dead at four thirty-three a.m. yet Samuel only found out hours later under a haze of painkillers and covered in bulky bloodied bandages.

Her funeral amassed hordes of distraught people—friends, family, co-workers, salseros and bachateros and former lovers, many of whom entertained the noble but irresponsible idea of playing vigilante for a night and disemboweling Candela’s murderers. The cassocked priest spoke about tolerance and love and forgiveness, and the mourning crowd let out several high-pitched and offbeat Hallelujahs. A collection of medium-sized balloons, each one a different color and marked with single words describing the deceased, took to the sky and slowly floated west. A morose Samuel sat by the closed casket, his scarlet and fern green scarf wrapped clumsily around his neck and a three-day scruff spreading like crab grass across his dislocated jaw. No one heard him mumble that afternoon that his revenge, inspired by the fond remarks he saw vanish behind a few scattered clouds, would take the strange shape of a short story. He missed his old flame, his fiery Candela.

Another blank sheet of paper challenged Samuel to tarnish it. Too many paper cuts and green pen marks competed with wrinkles and fingerprints for open space along his weary hands. He brushed aside the sheets and pens with his forearm and dropped his tired head on the desk for a minute. After what seemed like years, Samuel picked up the antique typewriter that reposed atop three hardbound novels and tip-tapped its loose keys: “The perfect first sentence never came easily to Samuel…”

Love At First Bite

2013-01-18T13:34:00.001+02:00

It was love at first bite. Raw fish—it was either salmon, tuna or yellowtail—mounted on a thumb of sticky rice and dipped in the traditional wasabi and soy sauce mixture. Many people shun away from the uncooked seafood, some disturbed by its slippery texture and fishy smell, others simply nauseated by the mere idea. For me, however, there was no turning back once that initial morsel hit my molars and slivered down my throat at the ripe young age of seventeen. Since that day, wherever my travels lead me, I have kept eyes, ears and taste buds open for high-quality Japanese food, particularly nigiri sushi, sashimi and maki rolls.

Eventually, a different kind of love landed me on The Rock and my search for good Japanese food hit a rough patch as restaurant after restaurant, primarily in Nicosia, failed to excite my palate. Then one evening almost five years ago my luck changed, and I visited Larnaca’s Nippon, to this day, in my humble opinion as a cultural-anthropologist-cum-wine-blogger, the best Japanese restaurant on the island.

After not having eaten there since 2009, I decided to stop by earlier this year to (hopefully) confirm my staunch belief in the joint. As usual, Gil Panayiotou, restaurateur and mastermind behind the popular eatery, welcomed our party with a wide grin, cracking a few jokes and lightening the mood as we were led to our table. There is nothing remarkable about the space; white minimalism and some colored fluorescent lighting define its décor. A long sushi bar with high stools anchors the h-shaped room and black tables, which are somewhat uncomfortably close to one another, occupy the remainder of the place. Then again, this is all trivial since what truly matters is the food and its inventiveness.

We kicked off the meal with a bottle of 2011 Domaine Vlassides White, a Xynisteri and Sauvignon Blanc blend that was crisp and citrusy with a pleasant herbal component but not as complex and aromatic as the 2010 vintage. A few sips certainly got us in the mood to tackle the extensive menu, chock-full of salads, soups, tataki, makimono, appetizers, temaki, nigiri sushi, sashimi, gunkan maki and cooked specials. For those patrons who are either lazy, inexperienced, indecisive or just plain confused by the wide array of options, Gil is more than happy to hear their likes and dislikes and design a somewhat pricey meal based on their preferences. Even though he offered to help us out, this time around our party took to the menu like crazed bibliophiles, diligently working our way through the list and jotting down the reference number for each selected dish to avoid delays when ordering.

By night’s end, our stuffed party of five had sampled twenty-nine different dishes. Vegetable tempura, perfectly battered and fried and surprisingly diverse and light, served as our appetizer alongside a few bowls of salted edamame and tasty miso soup. The sashimi—salmon, tuna, sea bass and yellow tail—was ultra-fresh and dissolved in our mouths, while the Shake & Tuna (thin slices of raw tuna and salmon in a ponzu sauce, vinegar, ginger, soy and spring onion) had a nice kick thanks to the savory acidity of the soy sauce and vinegar. Gil treated us to an unbelievable seafood carpaccio drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and topped with parmesan flakes and fresh basil, a dish he proudly said is a staple chez lui. The makimono rolls—we ordered eight different types—were, for the most part, creative and properly balanced. We particularly enjoyed the Kani (fresh blue fin crab with black caviar and sweet soy), which had a wonderful briny accent thanks to the caviar, and the Yawakarakai’s (soft-shell crab, mango, cucumber, teriyaki sauce, lettuce and crispy flakes) sugary crunchiness. Additionally, the spicy tuna rolls—a standard at most Japanese restaurants—was uplifted by a lovely and creamy spicy mayonnaise. The Suzuki Cilantro (breaded sea bass, white wine, sweet chili sauce, ginger, coriander and spring onion) took basic fish fingers to a whole different realm, balancing sweet and spicy to perfection, while the Razor Clams with ginger onion leeks and coriander were pops of spiced sea water in our mouths. Ironically enough, despite my adoration for raw seafood, the highlight was the cooked dish Gindara—miso marinated black cod grilled with mirin, sake and soy sauce was flaky, buttery in texture and complexly sweet, worth every penny despite the small portion and hefty price tag of almost thirty Euros.

Yes, there are a few disadvantages to the establishment. Of the dishes we sampled, our party disliked the scallop tails with fresh chili, coriander and masago sauce, mainly because the tails had a processed food-like consistency and rather tame flavor despite the delicious sauce. Also, I personally felt that the prawns tempura, avocado and salmon in the Angel makimono roll were overwhelmed by the cream cheese’s richness. Furthermore, the restaurant is on the expensive side—for a good meal with wine, expect to pay anywhere between thirty to sixty Euro per person—and the atmosphere feels somewhat cramped. At the end of the day, however, none of these detract from the culinary experience to be had at Nippon, something that certainly explains why so many people from Nicosia drive south to satiate their desire for food from the land of the rising sun.

Whine On The Rocks Rating: 5 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas

Oh You Pretty Thing!

2013-01-16T13:01:00.001+02:00

Unless you believe a couple KEOs, a loaded tray of grilled meats and a bottomless appetite constitute the epitome of gourmet, haute cuisine is hard to come by in Nicosia. Only a handful of local restaurants possess the creativity, refinement and technique to produce truly innovative and hedonistic food, and none of them are better than No Reservations.

Center stage at No Reservations

After strapping a sleepy Little Miss Despot to her crib and letting the babysitters in on her head-swaying fondness for David Bowie's "Oh You Pretty Things" in case of emergency, The Wife, Ph.D., and I marked our first night out in what seemed like centuries with a visit to Chef Martino Speciale's restaurant. Housed on Stasinou 16 only a few meters away from the D'Avila Bastion, the high-end eatery is sparsely yet tastefully decorated and seats about thirty patrons. All eyes though land on the rectangular cream-colored bar and kitchen in the middle of the room that serves as culinary laboratory for Chef Speciale and his team. The tasting menu is fixed, a unique practice for a gourmet establishment on The Rock, and ch-ch-changes every two weeks based on seasonality and availability of fresh ingredients. Diners may opt for fifteen (35 Euros), twelve (30 Euros) or five (20 Euros) tasting dishes, and the hunky-dory wine list focuses on Italy—the 2008 La Braccesca Vino Nobile di Montepulciano for us that evening—with a few other Old and New World selections.

If I had to pick one word to describe our fifteen-course meal, subtlety comes to mind. The most successful dishes were balanced, delicate and artfully presented. We kicked off with a crunchy fried mozzarella ball that sat like a little egg on a nest of spinach chiffonade with smoked pepper. The potato-stuffed tortelloni with broccoli and Taleggio cheese that followed melted in my mouth, and the simple homemade orecchiette with shrimp and a tomato-chestnut broth was something your nonna would prepare on a cold night yet rather refined. Likewise, the seared scallop with pancetta and a cream of peas, as well as the foie gras terrine with figs and olives, were perfectly executed, while the five mini desserts, spearheaded by the luscious flavors found in the chocolate lava cake, amaretto ice cream and pistachio crème brûlée, were a fitting culmination to a local gourmand's dream of something—anything—different in The Rock's capital.

Dessert anyone?

Other components of the meal, I thought, would have benefited from some slight tweaking. While matched with a vibrant, aromatic truffle oil foam, the porcini mushroom strudel was too doughy and overwhelmed its stuffing's inviting earthiness. The polenta and cod cakes with stewed garbanzo beans called for a dash of acidity and some textural contrast to brighten the dish. Furthermore, the veal cheek, albeit tender and tasty, was plopped next to the turkey with rosemary-infused stuffing and seasonal vegetables instead of being served separately, something that would have prevented the muddling of each creation's fine flavors. Finally, and of crucial importance to an amateur wine aficionado like myself, this style of meal screams for a wine tasting menu (say, two whites, two reds and a dessert wine) to complement the courses and their well-thought-out progression.

Despite these minor hiccups, I crave a return visit to No Reservations to see what sort of brave new culinary tricks Chef Speciale has up his sleeves. Next time, though, I hope to drag along the temperamental Little Miss Despot—stroller, rattles, Ziggy Stardust action figure, polka-dot tights, drool and all—to introduce her to Nicosia's most refined restaurant and give the valiant babysitters a well-deserved rest.

Whine On The Rocks Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas

Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

2013-01-07T19:00:00.003+02:00

I'll be the first to admit I am wrong.

About a year and a half ago, I reviewed Silver Star, one of Nicosia's favorite wine bars and awarded it only 3 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas. At the time, I disliked its carelessly decorated interior and limited wine selection for a bar owned by a cava located across the street. On my next visit a few months ago, though, things couldn't have shone brighter. With The Wife, Ph.D., horizontal on our red couch thanks to Little Miss Despot's nine-month synchronized swimming training for the 2032 Summer Olympics, My Zolpidem Supplier and I sat on the stools outside and had a Malbec-fueled rager for the ages.

Silver Star—its outdoor patio in particular—shines as a happy hour haunt. That evening we drank our livers to the ground, suited men and women, students and artists shared the narrow sidewalk, bottles of fine wine and stacked yet carefully selected local and imported cheese and charcuterie platters. The menu includes about twenty-five options by the glass and a note informing the dissatisfied, fickle or greedy like myself that the cava's wines are available for consumption at only a 10 Euro surcharge on their retail price, a practice I applaud. Likewise, DJs spin down-tempo electronic music that add a cool vibe to the sidewalk seating, and the service is friendly yet professional.

At the end of the night, after picking a bottle of 2008 Kir Yianni Ramnista Xinomavro as our nightcap—in retrospect, a grave mistake that sent me on a path not unlike that of an early-rising two-month pregnant woman—I introduced myself and this blog to Silver Star's owner. Fueled by the bottles of 2010 Amalaya Red and 2009 Colome Malbec we had earlier imbibed, I apologized for my—unbeknownst to him—mediocre review and complimented them for the few yet crucial improvements that have elevated the joint's overall quality.

Whine On The Rocks' (Revised) Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas

Coup d'Etat in Poronga City

2012-12-04T13:20:00.001+02:00

Thumbs up!

My poor abuela. An entire married life surrounded by porongas. The abuelo, her three sons, my two beautiful male cousins. Casual observers might think my abuela was queen among a cast of plebes, but truth is she was condemned to a brutish life catering to the whims of the sexumvirate. Cook, chauffeur, janitor, substitute teacher, babysitter, chaperone, bad cop, and so on.

I've been waiting thirty-eight weeks for this day to arrive. Load my baby bottles with scalding milk and holster them onto my diaper. Make Molotov cocktails stuffed to the brim with poo. Belt out cries like deafening wartime sirens and crawl into their fortress, not afraid—if push comes to shove—to pull off some porongas along the way. My poor abuela will stand by my side armed with her menacing Warrior III pose and tongue-lashing, and together we will lead this rebellion to topple, once and for all, the Jarrin patriarchy.

If revolution fails, there's always psychological warfare. I will bat my minute black eyes and yawn. I will blabber what sounds like Nerudian poetry to my Daddy's ears. I will stretch in the same way a Cypriot Shorthair does when the sun strokes its fur. I will fart in my sleep. The boys will fall under my spell and have no choice but to love me indiscriminately. With them beneath my tiny thumb, my poor abuela will regain her spot atop the hierarchical ladder and rule from here to eternity alongside her Cyprio-Ecuadorian consiglieri.

Lest I forget, now's a good time to drop my first F-bomb. Daddy, fuck island wines. I only drink Burgundy Grand Cru.

Pacifier Out,

Little Miss Despot

Another Side Note

2012-10-18T13:00:00.004+03:00

Several months back, I submitted a short story to Fluster Magazine's Tell Us A Tale competition. My piece got picked from hundreds of entries from all over the world, and the book, published in collaboration with Cyprus' Armida Publications, is now for sale on Amazon. So pony up some spare change and support The Rock's literary scene. My story isn't that great, but the others, I guarantee, will tickle your insides like the finest of island wines.

Budget Island Wines: The List!

2012-09-28T15:54:00.006+03:00

In this harsh economic climate, with your pockets desperate for cash, you might have to think twice before swiping any of your credit cards for a couple bottles of ten Euro wines. Personally, I have all but given up on my dream of making out on a daily basis with bottles of pricy Burgundy and settled for Tetra Pak wines, Cypriot moonshine and the local equivalent of Natural Light, a piss-in-a-can kind of beer that brings back looooovely memories of my first year in college. All because alcohol soothes the worried heart and empty wallet.

So in honor of these perilous times and before troika (the European Commission, IMF and European Central Bank) straps us onto that torture machine known as fiscal reforms, here's a list of budget island wines (under five Euros!) to make it all seem just like a bad dream. By the way, I will update this list regularly as I ramp up my household's consumption of cheap wine. Stay tuned.

2011 Marks & Spencer Nerello Mascalese (Sicily) - Nose dominated by red fruit and plenty of smokiness. A very fruit-forward wine with touches of cherry and raspberries. Light, smooth and with chewy tannins. For 4.50 Euros, great, and one to chill a bit before serving. Plus, they redesigned the label and replaced the cork for a screw-top—it's now much snazzier. 89/100.

2010 LIDL Kritikos (Kotsifalia and Mandilaria from Crete) - Forrest fruit and cherries on the nose. Very short finish. Smooth yet simple. Okay for the four Euro price-tag. 84/100.

2011 LIDL Santorini Assyrtiko - Muted yet fresh bouquet marked by citrus, orange-like aromas. To the mouth, a citrus explosion accompanied by the vibrant acidity associated to the variety. Little minerality, short, not as complex and maybe a tad gloppy compared to higher-end versions. For €4.99, though, definitely worth drinking and great for the summer scorch. 84/100.

Introducing Hacienda "El Establo"

2012-09-20T16:12:00.001+03:00

The Road to Nowhere

It took us close to two hours from Nicosia to reach the narrow road into Kato Arodhes. We sat in the car by the side of the road, waiting for R.O.I., his wife and The Duke of Ducati to drive by and lead us to our sleeping quarters for the evening. A two-story eyesore of a house entertained us for what felt like a half an hour wait with its owner's impeccable architectural gusto; terracotta-toned statues of frogs, saddled ponies, menacing eagles, giant mushrooms and roaring lions surrounded a tacky fountain and stood guard by the entrance of what must be a Russian magnate's idea of the American dream. After wiggling our way through several tight bends, rows of beautifully renovated stone houses stood on both sides, we reached the southern edge of town, a road that seemingly led to nowhere and a wooden gate that creaked as it swung open and invited us in.

Hacienda "El Establo"

The small yet idyllic two-bedroom stone house, which was a stable in its previous incarnation and was refurbished by The Duke's family, is the archetypical Cypriot mountain retreat. Rusticity, hominess and the unencumbered sound of nature come together to provide the perfect escape from boisterous beaches, traffic-tortured cities and snotty crowds. A beautiful shaded outdoor patio and an orchard full of citrus and plum trees that shake and rustle like XXL maracas as the refreshing breeze works its way up the hills from the island's western shore serve as center stage for drinking, dining and disassociating from everyday life. Just around the corner, quasi-identical stone houses, all like first cousins in a sleepy village, line the meandering streets and give the place that same touch of symmetry found in a meticulous architect's sketchbook. And not too far, the wild and uncrowded beaches of Latsi and Polis Chrysochous, century-old monasteries and churches, boutique wineries and roads slithering like serpents down the mountains. In fact, your chances of crossing paths with ravenous snakes, rats, lizards and other polychromatic critters are much improved at these lofty elevations, but this should not detract from what I consider to be the superior and most relaxing weekend getaway on The Rock. What's that? Protaras? Sorry, I can't hear you, my piece of shit phone ran out of batteries.

Foukou in Action

Agritourism, the sort of tourism that hosts visitors in farms, ranches and rural cottages, has taken off since I moved to The Rock six very long years ago. In an effort to introduce tourists to life in traditional Cypriot villages, the Cyprus Tourism Organization (CTO) initiated "a programme of restoration of traditional houses and enhancement of the traditional element in Cyprus villages." Under this initiative managed by the Cyprus Agrotourism Company and subsidized by the Cypriot government, dozens of tattered rural abodes have been restored to their past charm and put up for rent for the benefit of guests willing to discover the island's countryside. Accommodation ranges from single bedrooms in countryside hotels with basic amenities to fully-stocked, multiple bedroom houses, some with swimming pools and breathtaking views of the Mediterranean, vineyards and rolling, dried-up hills. Price, location and availability also vary, and all participating properties can be booked directly through the Cyprus Agrotourism Company website.

Patacones on The Rock

Even though The Duke's hillside quarters are only available to his fancy friends, I recommend scouring through the listing so that you too can some time escape reality. That cool night, after a long swim in Latsi's empty seas, we uncorked two Kyperounda whites and several bottles of KEO and Grolsch, grilled lamb chops, vegetables, halloumi and yoghurt-marinated chicken kebab, and forgot about our lives back in the capital, all to an R&B and old school hip-hop soundtrack cooked up by R.O.I. The mood was so merry, The Wife, Ph.D., in an obvious lapse of judgment, granted me carte blanche to deep-fry plantains and add a hint of mi tierra to the soiree.

2011 Kyperounda Petritis (Xynisteri) - Bright nose with notes of jasmine, citrus and some peach. On the palate, grapefruit and a touch of melon, a meticulous use of oak and nice acidity. 87/100.

2010 Kyperounda Chardonnay - Already reviewed here!

Delayed Reaction

2012-07-15T18:53:00.001+03:00

Coral Bay, Paphos

Sorry everyone. The blog's been on holidays these days. Sipping French bubbly packaged in island regalia by the sea. Tough motherf___ing life.

KEO Duc de Nicosie

Samos Tryin' Ta Kill Me

2012-06-26T11:10:00.000+03:00

Many of my fancy friends, particularly those who enjoy the blog but secretly wish to see me perish at an early age from liver failure, bring me island wines back from their travels. For example, after I complained about the lack of quality Vilana, Mr. Mars gifted me two bottles of Cretan whites in exchange for a home-cooked meal, an austerity package for Greece and my box set of The Wire so that he works on his own interpretation of Clay Davis' favorite ~~excretion~~ expression once that plan fails. Last time around, an acquaintance who wants no starring role in my ramblings but would like to see me under The Rock, gave me two bottles of Muscat from the Greek island of Samos that I later put to the test.

First, though, this post's didactic component. Per my go-to-guide on Greek wines, New Wines of Greece,

"Muscat White is often referred to as Muscat Samos since the variety is closely associated with the island. Apart from its presence in the PDO Samos, the variety is also found in four other PDO wines (PDO Muscat of Cephalonia, PDO Muscat of Patras, PDO Muscat of Rio Patras and PDO Muscat of Rhodes). Muscat vineyards are spread on stone terraces mostly around Karvounis (1,153m), Samos’s central mountain, which is also known as Ambelos, after the homonymous village on its northern side. Sizeable vineyards are also found on the northeastern slopes of Kerki (1,443m), Samos’s western mountain. Samos has long had its own particular wine management, the Union of Vinicultural Cooperatives of Samos being the only producer. This cooperative has succeeded in making the sweet wine of Samos the best known Greek wine abroad, while dessert wines under the geographical indication of “Samos” have also found their way into the international pantheon of excellent sweet wines. Two wineries outside the island which collaborate with the cooperative also market PDO Samos wines."

The grape itself produces wines (from dry to sticky) marked by aromas of lemon, apricot, linden, peach, honey and muscat (somewhat reminiscent of crushed coriander seeds).

2011 Union of Vinicultural Cooperatives of Samos (EOSS) Psilés Korfés Muscat (Dry White Wine) - Beautiful nose marked by citrus, passion fruit and flowers. To the palate, tropical fruits all the way. Simple quaffing wine with a medium body. 85/100.

2010 Union of Vinicultural Cooperatives of Samos (EOSS) Vin Doux (Samos Muscat) - Intense bouquet of dried apricots, honey, nuts and spice. Dried apricots, dates and golden raisins, brown sugar, vanilla and a touch of menthol to the taste. Too cloying for my palate, could use some acidity. 82/100.

Sleepless in Row One Eight Seven

2012-06-19T12:37:00.004+03:00

It's tough for me to sleep on airplanes. I'm the opposite of The Wife, Ph.D., who minutes before takeoff unlaces her shoes, drapes a blanket over her small frame, rests her head on the window and several hours later needs an extra-strong coffee to acknowledge my cranky presence next to her. While she dreams, I watch lame movies and television series, spread runny cheese on stale bread, stuff my face with complementary Twix bars, and try to read without being interrupted by sudden turbulence. If someone remotely interesting is on the other side, I'll talk and talk and talk as if the airplane's engines depended on my verbosity to keep humming. In the past, I've even self-medicated with drowsy cough syrup, which helped me get some shuteye but seemed somewhat irresponsible. These days—no surprises here—I get sloshed on multiple aviation bottles (187 ml) of average wine and wake up depressed and hungover yet with little recollection of the trip. Hyperbole is indeed my middle name so don't be too frightened if one day you are sitting next to me on a transatlantic flight.

Four down, one to go

Besides helping me cope with travel, these minute bottles are ideal for certain occasions. First, they keep my drinking during dinner in check; no longer do I feel tempted to polish off a regular-sized bottle with little assistance from The Wife, Ph.D. Plus, I still experience the sense of accomplishment that comes from consuming an entire bottle minus the massive blow to the liver. Second, it facilitates multiple tastings of fresh wines without the uncorked bottles sitting around to be finished a day or two later and being exposed to oxidation. Third, I can stuff a bottle or two down my pants and smuggle them into a boring football match, Greek theater, Sunday mass, doctor appointments, AA meetings and lonely nights in bed.

Here on The Rock, as far as I know, your best bets for decent Cypriot wine in aviation bottles are Aes Ambelis and Makkas Winery. Alfa Mega stocks miniature versions of Makkas' white, rosé and red and these have become my go-to wines on school nights.

2011 Makkas Red Dry (Grenache, Shiraz, Maratheftiko and Lefkada) - This was the highest-rated Cypriot wine at the 2012 Decanter World Wine Awards. Very smoky and meaty nose with a floral component and a touch of cherries. Chewy tannins, great mouth-feel, good weight and smooth transitions. Flavor-wise, meaty and earthy with notes of red fruit. 88/100.

2011 Makkas Rodostafylo Rosé (Maratheftiko and Lefkada) - To the nose, sweet red fruit like pomegranate and candied strawberries. Tastes predominantly of raspberries but I found it kind of mild and rather flat. Short with a bitter finish. 80/100.

2011 Makkas White Dry (Chardonnay and Xynisteri) - Green apples, peaches and a citrus component come together in a pretty nose with some sweetness to it. Medium-bodied with a flavor profile that recalls tropical fruits (some pineapple, some guava) and citrus. Fresh and good for the summer. 84/100.

Wine Withdrawal Syndrome

2012-06-12T12:21:00.005+03:00

Wine Detox 101 with Prof. Disney-Obsessed Man-Child.

Intergalactic Visitors

2012-05-29T12:47:00.001+03:00

Geographically speaking, The Rock is on prime global real estate, [CLICHÉ ALERT] the crossroads between East and West. You'd think it'd be easy for those of us living here to pack a rucksack and embark on weekend trips to Rome, Berlin, Amman or Prague. Problems, however, are manifold. Outbound flights to such livelier places are either prohibitively expensive for the underemployed (i.e. me) or painstakingly long. My always willing blue station wagon stalls at the sight of that cul-de-sac known as the Mediterranean sea. The daring captain of the fluorescent yellow bicep-powered kayak—it flies the Ecuadorian flag—breaks down, dehydrated and teary-eyed, exactly one nautical mile into his virgin voyage to the Holy Land. Applications for a single-entry visa into the teleportation device keep getting rejected because of weight limitations inside the vortex.

To stave off the depression that builds up like chimney soot from too many sea-locked weekends, The Wife, Ph.D. and I often play hosts to intergalactic visitors brought to The Rock by our fancy friends. This is by far the safest and most responsible form of escapism available to islanders. Cue Random White Guy (RWG), My Life Coach's Midwestern buddy and chatterbox on a sabbatical from his job as head choreographer, special effects consultant and costume designer for the "We Are Mizzou" series of basketball videos. Friday night barbecue. Protaras, the blog's summer headquarters. We break bread and he drinks my wine. He quizzes The Wife, Ph.D., and My Zolpidem Supplier on American history and praises (because he does not know better) family life on The Rock. We drool at the thought of Bavarian girls pounding liters of beers and hiding their curves under a dirndl during Oktoberfest. Prediabetes strikes after taking a few small bites of the—what's a word for cloying to the tenth power?—store-bought cake he brought for dessert. Time comes to deal with the burning charcoal. RWG approaches the grill, notices the glowing embers and chivalrously offers to pee them out. I chuckle at the potty humor, douse the fire with what's left of an insipid Roditis Sauvignon Blanc, and think it'd be awesome to visit the faraway planet RWG calls home.

2007 Domaine Vlassides Shiraz - Nice bouquet marked by smoke, black fruit, plums, pepper and coffee. On the palate, blackberry, pepper and vanilla. Chewy tannins and very smooth. 88/100.

2011 Ktima Keo Rose (Cabernet Sauvignon and Sauvignon Blanc) - Strawberry, pomegranate and some lingering sweetness on the nose. Flavor-wise, candied cherry, other bright red fruit and rose petals. Thirst-quenching. 84/100.

...And Back to Busboy

2012-05-25T09:07:00.002+03:00

Help's here!

Here's a good example of how context can affect one's appreciation of wine. A week ago I boasted about my tasting prowess regarding the 2011 Tsalapatis Rigena Xynisteri only for my thinly-veiled arrogance to do a one-eighty and open its fangs on my upper hams. I ran a similar experiment with the 2011 Tsalapatis Melapsopodi Sauvignon Blanc and the tasting experience couldn't have been more different. The first bottle I sampled two months ago in a packed wine lounge where I presume the cacophony, charcuterie, cheese and conviviality threw me for a loop and had my un-Saleem-Sinai-like nose picking up green apples, melon and savoriness. The second bottle was meticulously studied within the confines of our headquarters, and hence I believe its notes are a better reflection of this particular wine's flavor profile. You probably think such inconsistency confirms my lack of talent and condemns me to a pathetic life as a busboy. Yet fear no more, dear readers. Le Nez du Vin est arrivé sur Le Roche and my nose will soon be trained to sniff out hints of quince, lychees, bilberries and saffron from nautical miles away.

Notes for March 17th, 2012 at Cava Inon Pnevmata

Muted bouquet marked by a distinct grassy component with notes of green apples, melon and guava. Some savoriness to the palate. Medium body but lacking acidity. A bit gloppy. Obviously, given the jovial setting, I enjoyed this bottle much more than the second one. 87/100.

Notes for May 17th, 2012 at Home
Bouquet is dominated by passion fruit with slight hints of fresh-cut grass and some kiwi. Gloppy body with some tropical fruit, pineapple and orange peel on the palate. Bitter finish and overall rather tame flavor profile. 84/100.

The Rock @ DWWA 2012

2012-05-23T09:33:00.000+03:00

It's that time of the year again. The Decanter World Wine Awards, version 2012.

As usual, The Rock sent multiple samples and received its share of the hardware. I was hoping for a better showing by Mara Theft, Inc., but the variety failed to pack a punch internationally. In any case, Makkas Winery in Pafos emerged as the big winner with the only two silver medals awarded to Cyprus. Below is the complete list of Cypriot silver and bronze medal victors. For the commended wines, run a search here!

Silver Medals

2011 Makkas Winery Gold Red Blend (Shiraz, Grenache & Maratheftiko)

2010 Makkas Winery Gold Shiraz

Bronze Medals

2011 Aes Ambelis Winery Rose

2009 Ezousa Shiraz

2010 Makkas Winery Maratheftiko

2010 Makkas Winery Gold Merlot

2011 Sodap Stroumpeli Rose (Maratheftiko)

2011 Tsalapatis Winery Rigena (Xynisteri)

2011 Tsangarides Winery Chardonnay

2007 Tsiakkas Winery Cabernet Sauvignon

2011 Tsiakkas Winery Xynisteri

2010 Zambartas Wineries Maratheftiko

2011 Zambartas Wineries Semillon - Sauvignon Blanc

2010 Zambartas Wineries Shiraz - Lefkada