Wine Tasting in Dry Creek Valley

Because as a woman in her thirties life is too short to drink bad wine, this past weekend the newly formed, “Society of the Traveling Boots,” headed off to wine country.

Driving on Westside Road towards Dry Creek Valley was like travelling back in time. Familiar wines, centerpieces to special moments already lived, greeted me along the road to the left, while to the right, the colors of fall, yellow, orange and sometimes red splashed the ocean of vines that could be seen growing, row after row, until they reached the horizon of Pines at the opposite end of the last long curve. October, after the harvest and right before the frost leaves the vines bare and exposed, is a beautiful time to go wine tasting.

Our agenda was simple: visit some old favorites and discover something new. The goal: come home with some new bottles. Both were accomplished.

Old Favorites- Quivira Vineyards

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We discovered Quivira about 4 years ago and were instantly impressed by the fact that all the wines on their tasting list, (even the whites, which we are usually not such a fan of), were excellent.

So how was it 4 years later? Crowded. Loud. Which is unfortunate because these outside factors really do affect the tasting experience. The tasting rooms are there to showcase the wines, but also to sell the patron on a fantasy, a feeling, the story of the land, and their winemaking philosophy or ideal. All of these factors are intangible. All of these are impossible to acquire when the bar is crowded, the tastings come sporadically or feel rushed, or when the only info we get on the wine is what is on the tasting menu, and a map that the pourer points to when he fills our glasses.

Ok, ranting aside, the wine is still really good. I am not going to pretend like I am a sophisticated wine connoisseur and explain each wine’s flavor profile. What I can say about the wine is that I like it so much, I am considering being part of their wine club so that I can get this yummy wine delivered to my house, like Christmas presents that come in the mail year round.

Something New- Thomas George Estates

http://www.her30s.com

I was sold at wine cave. I know, how shallow of me, but hey, it is my belief that wine tasting is like Disneyland for adults. Each new tasting room is like a new ride. We don’t know what to expect with every pour and if the adventure occurs in an interesting space, like a cave or barrel room, even better. Downside, the cave was really, really cold.

Wine cave aside, Thomas George was pouring from two distinct tasting lists. The first list poured an array of whites and reds, starting with a Sauvignon Blanc and finishing with a Zinfandel. The second list was pouring all Pinots. Like everyone else who became obsessed with the movie “Sideways,” I too went through a Pinot only phase, so this tasting was especially of interest. The tastings were expensive. Like Napa Valley tasting room expensive. So while we were not thrilled to be paying $15 and $30 to taste from each list, it was well worth it.

We tasted Pinots from their various Thomas George estates. The list went from a lighter Pinot to a more aggressive and full-bodied Pinot. It was interesting to compare how the same grape, but grown in varying climate zones with varying terroir, could taste so different. We came home with a couple of bottles of the Cresta Ridge Vineyard Pinot and paired it that same evening with some Spanish style Gambas al Ajillo, or Garlic Shrimp. And in case you are wondering, bold and peppery, the Cresta held up just fine.

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By: W. Castellanos-Wolf 

 

From The Kitchen of Ana Lucia Simpson

By: Her 30’s dot com

 Peruvian food has become all the rage with the influx of world renowned chefs like Gaston Acurio and Jose Garces, creating unforgettable cuisine based on tradition, while at the same time utilizing innovative techniques. The cuisine of Peru is rich in flavor and in history and is a direct reflection of the culture. It is a mestisaje of Spanish, African and Asian influences and flavors.

I am fortunate to partake in Peruvian cuisine quite often thanks to my friend Ana who loves to eat and share the food of her homeland with friends. But alas, I am a vegetarian and while Peruvian food is extremely accessible to a vegetarian lifestyle, with traditionally meatless dishes like Arroz Chaufa or Papas a La Huancaina, I had never been able to enjoy the Saltado. It smells delicious, but it is usually made with lomo, or beef and so, I have always been left to take in the savory scent and imagine how good the sauce must taste. One day, (Peruvian Independence Day of all days), Ana said, “Come to my house and I’ll make a Lomo Saltado you can eat. 

I ate conchitas, Peruvian cooked corn kernels, as I watched Ana make this amazing meal.

She was agile as she moved from place to place in her kitchen. The phrase that kept coming to mind was that she is una mujer de su casa. There is no real way to translate this and the connotation into English so I will say it crudely, she owns the kitchen, the kitchen is her bitch.

I watched Ana make Saltado de Portabella. Brilliant!

In a skillet, stir fry onions, garlic, tomato and fresh oregano. Add salt and pepper to taste, a splash of vinegar, soy sauce and aji, (which is a sundried red hot pepper paste), to make the base of the saltado. Throw in Portabella mushrooms instead of beef and once the mushrooms have released their moisture, adding more flavor to the sauce, top with fresh parsley. She served this with white rice and papas a la huancaina.

And to celebrate Peruvian Independence, Ana introduced me to Pisco Sour which is absolutely delicious and totally una bebida traidora. It’s the type of drink that sneaks up you so beware. 

 

 

From the Kitchen of Antonio de Jerez

There are certain people whose food is impossible to turn down. ADJ is one of those people. His cooking style, like his personality is passionate with the capability of turning any old Monday night dinner into an event. To ADJ, the act of cooking is visceral and eating, a celebration amongst friends. I call it Monday Night Supper Club. (No one else calls it this but perhaps it will catch on.)

 At Supper Club we catch up on each other’s lives, learn how to cook ADJ’s recipes, fight the Monday blues with crisp white wine, (Pinot Grigio as of late), and extend that weekend feeling just a little bit longer. The past couple of weeks we learned how to make some Mediterranean classics, Pasta Puttanesca and Bruschetta. As a responsible food-loving woman in her thirties, I have to give fair warning: enjoy at your own risk because these dishes will make you eat seconds and if you are up late, maybe even thirds.

Check out Her 30s for recipe and photos.

On Mom and the Home Cooked Meal

It must be a universal aspect of the human psyche to equate mother figure with food source. After all if the offspring is fortunate and the mother figure is able, she becomes the first food source, goddess of nutrition, and champion for all necessary immunity. To say that mother is a special role is an understatement which is why it is not surprising that people so often become nostalgic for a home cooked meal, where home is inherent to mother and mother as stated earlier is equated to food. I have been contemplating my relationship with my mother and thus my relationship with food.

If I had to choose a Facebook style relationship status to describe how I relate to my mother and to food, I would have to pick the “it’s complicated” option. I love and respect both but yeah, it’s complicated. My mother was a professional cook for over 20 years in one of those groovy food trucks before they were all the rage in Los Angeles. In the 1980’s they were called loncheras, lunch trucks or roach coach if you happened upon an unsanitary one. The gourmet or specialty mobile restaurant was not yet invented, but my mom’s cooking was so good that if it she had been cooking today, she would have a cult following on Twitter. Everyone she served out of that food truck called her mami, mom or momma depending on what culture they were from. She was the mother figure and food source to strangers who performed manual labor in factories and construction zones at odd hours, feeding them and reminding them of their own mothers who had either passed on or been left behind in the country of origin.

This is where it gets complicated. She fed strangers meals that felt home cooked Monday through Friday and sometimes Saturday. Meanwhile, her family ate take out, left overs and junk food in front of the TV. She worked long afternoons that went into the late evening so that the only time she was able to make her own family a real home cooked meal was on the weekend. No one complained and I did not notice for a long time until I became more conscious of food, where it comes from, how to cook it, why we eat what we eat. I was 14, an aspiring Vegetarian with no income to buy groceries of her own and faced with having to explain to my Latin family what Vegetarian meant, why I was doing it, and challenged by a fridge empty of anything edible. My mother especially did not take my desire to be a Vegetarian seriously. She had participated in fad diets in her vain youth and thought I was following a trend not making a serious lifestyle change. My teenage rebellion was not drinking or smoking or promiscuity. I rejected my mother and her food, resenting that her work kept her away, not realizing that her work was necessary to our survival.

It’s complicated and it continues to be, but this blog post is not the place to fully sort out my mommy and my food issues. As a woman in her thirties I can honestly say that I am slowly reconciling with both. This past week when I was on Spring Break I was fortunate enough to have my mother make me a home cooked Vegetarian meal and it was glorious.

Here it is, Cheese Chile Rellenos and a Brussel Sprout, Potato and Carrot Rice courtesy of my mom.