Reflections on My Wine Cabinet

The other night at my recent Mondays @ Mark’s a friend commented on my wine cabinet.  He even used his iPhone to snap a picture and send it to his wife who didn’t attend.  As it turns out, she’s began surfing the internet for one of their own.

Because he’s the IT person at work, I think he’s  now blocking the websites from his home computer network.  Sorry about that. Perhaps if she knew the whole story, she’d have second thoughts.  Thinking about this cabinet brings back some painful memories.

Prior to this wine cabinet I was storing my wine on some shelves in my bedroom.  I live in a two bedroom condo and frankly didn’t have the space to keep them anywhere else.  Other places where I had room were subject to both sun and heat perhaps not the best option for keeping wine over any length of time.

And over the course of the previous few years, I had added some very nice wines to my collection. And, it had grown to over 300 bottles. Of which 280 were stored on those bedroom shelve. I also was a little concerned that it was beginning to look as though I was sleeping in a wine cellar. 

While I had looked at a refridgerated wine cabinet in the past, they were all out of my price range.   That is until I received my Wine Express catalog. 

It was clearly a fateful day two years ago when I opened the catalog and saw them featuring their new “DIY” wine cabinet.  While it was a little more than I wanted to spend, it was tempting enough for me to order the side-by-side version.   Perhaps the first thing I should have done before ordering was to check the dimensions so I could determine exactly where it would fit. 

They said it would ship by truck and would call an hour before they arrived so I could be there.  That was only partly true. It was, in fact, shipped by truck.  What happened next is classic for one of my projects.  Perhaps the first clue that I had gotten in a little over my head was when I received a call from the delivery truck.  They were already at my house and they wanted to know where to leave the cabinet.

When I told them to put it on the front porch by the door I realized I was in trouble.  You see, they couldn’t do that because it was on a pallet. So after leaving it in front of my garage door, the truck departed and I headed home.  That’s when the enormity of what I had done hit me. 

The Wine Cabinet arrived in eight . . . yes eight . . . cartons of various sizes and weights. No wonder it arrived on a pallet.  So step one is schlepping up the cartons to the second floor of my condo. Again with the lack of foresight and planning. Some of these cartons must have weighed over 150 lbs. I was beginning to realize that the days of having friends help move me had come to an end.

Although I’m not an instruction-type of guy, I opened the cartons to find the instructions first.  After schlepping the cartons up the stairs and finding the assembly instructions, I sat down for the night and read over the instructions and charged up my electric drill.  Thus ended day one.  And it was ok.

Day two of the project should have included me taking the pieces to the room where I was going to finally place the cabinet but my first thought was not where it would eventually end up.  Following the instructions a friend and I began the assembly process. 

Now this is no Ikea shelving kit. The back and side panels are solid wood. Solid and about an inch and a half thick. Having completed the assembly of the main unit, we attempted to lift it up. Here’s where I almost killed a friend.

 In wine making the crush is important but when it comes to friends crushing is bad. Very bad.

Having set it upright, I checked to make sure my friend had no broken bones and was, in fact, OK.  I then took it’s measurements and double checked the original location.  By now you know it didn’t fit.  Thus ended day two and I was in trouble.

Day three began walking around the condo trying to determine the location of the cabinet (and recognizing that it needed an outlet, too).  This resulted in the re-arranging of the back sitting/tv room.  It also meant moving this several hundred pound beast.  The wisdom of purchasing a completed wine cabinet were becoming more apparent with each passing moment.

Unfortunately I couldn’t go back and start over.  I was 2/3rds of my way through the project so stopping now wasn’t an option. I installed the refrigerator unit and tested it and sealed the edges.  We finished the trim and installed the shelves.  After finishing the trim we tried to slide it back into its spot.  I realized at that moment I had one shot to get it right.

It took quite a bit of effort to get it in place.  That's when I realized something. Once in place, it was going nowhere.  Not without a professional moving company.

 The only thing left to do was to move the wine into the cabinet.  Here’s where the only downside to the cabinet came into play. The shelves don’t slide. I can’t slide out the shelves to choose the wine. 

I discovered in my transferring my wine to the cabinet that I really have a preference for red wine as fully 2/3rds of the cabinet consists of red wine.  The right side of my cabinet Is dedicated to primarily my various Seghesio wines with the left side housing my cabernets and white wines.  Thus ended day three. And all was finally good.

I sometimes get grief over my wine collection and I would say that it would be a very selfish interest if it weren’t for the fact that I love to share my wine with friends and family. There really isn’t a wine I wouldn’t share.  It’s really fun to open up the cabinet and find something that a friend has never tried and watch them experience it for the first time.

What Role Does Food Play in Life?

I had a great dinner the other night with some folks before my boss, Eric, and I gave a presentation on social media to a regional NCDC conference. It wasn’t so much the food that made the dinner but the company.

Don’t get me wrong, the food was wonderful. Really. The food was great.  The restaurant was a small, family owned Sicilian restaurant and the food was created with the care that one would give to a special family dinner.

Please wait 10 seconds for a shameless plug:

If you’re near Orangeburg, NY, you simply must try Del ‘Arte.  (Now back to the blog.)

But what made the dinner great was the conversation and the relationships we were establishing around the meal.  I think I swung the topic to the changes we see in how we experience food today in America.
I was lamenting to my older sister, Peggy, that the role food plays in the Unitied States has lost a lot of impact.  How today food is nothing more than an object to provid nourishment and we seem to have lost the impact in our lives and in our relationships that happen around food.

Ok.Ok. Those who know me well, know that I don’t have any biological sisters.  Sr. Peggy is Dominican Sister who works out of Sparkill, NY.  The picture of a family sitting around the table laughing and talking and eating, and, in the process, building deep, unbreakable bonds too often is a thing of the past.

Sr. Peggy talked about what it was like growing up in her Italian/Irish family and how meals were the highlight of the day. That’s not a picture I hear about much anymore.

Perhaps that’s why too many meals happen in front of the television.  I’m as guilty of that as anybody.  How often do we rush through a meal to get on with something else. But I have been wondering if, perhaps, our desire to do everything doesn’t come at the expense of our relationships.

I wish that I could go back and change my priorities over the years because I didn’t make dinner a priority.  I spent too much time working . . . too much time doing things and not enough time building relationships with family and friends.

So, I guess my question is this: what role should food play in our lives?

Am I being unrealistic in hoping that we’ll slow down a little bit and let food become the setting that does more than provide nourishment.  Perhaps we can let ourselves be nurtured around the table through the relationships we keep.

Recently, I have been able to re-establish a relationship with a friend I worked with years ago. In the past, our relationship had been limited to our work together. Most recently, he’s traveling up to Chicago once a month or so and I try to have him come over for a home-cooked meal.

I’m just guessing that my meal is a little better than what he might get at some fast food take out or a pizza in his room. But more than that, it’s given us time to really dig below the surface of work and build a real relationship.

That’s really what the food provides . . . a venue for personal nurturement.  I think that our European cousins have this idea down pat.  On the few occasions I’ve had the privilege of visiting, we’ve enjoyed special meals together. It’s not what we’re used to here.  They begin about nine and end well after midnight.

But it’s through those times that the roots of relationship go deep.

Perhaps my favorite memory of all time happened more than a few years ago.  My grandmother had just passed away and all but a handful of the cousins came back for the memorial service.  I don’t think we’ve all been together since then.

If you knew my grandmother, she was a very conservative, Pennsylvania Dutch woman. A pastor’s wife most of her life. I bet she never once stepped foot in a bar. And, yet, here we all were gathered around a table in a room off the bar.

There were more stories shared . . . more laughter . . . more joy than I had experienced in a long time.  Yes it was a sad occasion yet we were all here enjoying the relationship we shared as family even though we rarely spend any time together. It was a rich evening spent over food and wine (or other beverages)!

It’s too bad that those experiences are so few and far between.  I am planning on making more time in my life to use food not just for nourishment but for the nurturment of the soul.

And, to my cousins (and my older Sister Peggy), thanks for memories that won’t ever be lost and the time we spent together not only sharing a meal . . . but in sharing life. You have made my life richer for those moments.

Cioppino and Other Assorted Disasters

The other night I invited my cousin over to the house for dinner.  I wasn’t sure what I was going to serve when I made the invitation. It was Oscar night so I thought I’d step out of the ordinary and try my hand at Cioppino. I think it was because I saw a photo of Chef Peter’s Cioppino on the Seghesio Facebook page as they were getting ready for their Cioppino dinner and wine tasting.

I received the Kindle Fire for my birthday and let me say I love, love, love it.  As I’ve mentioned before I have a semi-smart phone so it’s a delight to utilize the Android apps found on the Kindle fire.  One of them is the Epicurious app which lets a user find recipes and then create shopping lists. Genious.

After finding a recipe and reading the reviews, I settled on the Cioppino for dinner. A few substitutions needed to be made and after reading the reviews which stated it’s not really cioppino without dungeoness crab, I needed to find a source.

Now the Chicago area has a lot going for it but San Francisco it is not when it comes to finding a great selection of fresh fish so some frozen would have to do.  The last time I had cioppino was down on Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco eating the cioppino recommended by Mario Batali.  I figured he knew what he was talking about (and he did).

I didn’t have those same hopes for my recipe only I hoped it would be edible. So after shopping on Saturday, I was already for dinner. It would be a simple matter of preparing the base and prepping the fish before she arrived for dinner. At this point you may be wondering what I meant by other disasters. Nothing could be simpler at this point, right?

Wrong.

Never underestimate my ability to make things more difficult when left alone in the kitchen. You guessed it I decided to add to the menu. This is where you see the two trains colliding.  Here’s why. I had some blood oranges in the refrigerator that needed to be used before they went bad.  The great thing about technology is that you can take something from bad to disaster very quickly.

That’s exactly what I did.

I decided on a Blood Orange Tart.  Now it would have been helpful to have fully read the directions before starting. But then skimming is always preferable to reading right? Wrong again. Something about the custard spending the night in the fridge was overlooked.

So here I am. Instead of prepping for dinner, I’m rolling out tart dough. And because I have no patience, I didn’t let it fully rest in the fridge before attempting rolling. After filling the tart pan, I put it in the freezer for around 30 minutes before baking.

Now I’m running out of time and trying to mix the custard, cut blood orange supremes (which turned out more like blood orange pips) and start the stock.  I have two hands and apparently less than one brain. That’s not possible.

Putting aside the tart and deciding not to have this for dinner – after all I didn’t figure out how to go back in time. I started the prep by finely dicing a medium yellow onion and a small fennel bulb. These, along with a little garlic went into a large pot on medium high. Once softened, I added the other herbage and the white wine and tomatoes.

I didn’t think much about it at the time but it called for ½ teaspoon of red chile flakes. That’s not a lot – or so one would think. But after cooking for a while I was hearing that my cousin’s eyes were burning from the spice.  After opening the window, I added the cod, shrimp, clams and mussels.  After cooking for a few minutes I also added the squid.

Now I had looked all over for the dungeoness crab and could only find some cooked crab.  I didn’t want to overcook it so it had to wait until the last minute.

Meanwhile, I’m back at the custard. Apparently I can’t push the easy button at all.  I couldn’t wait until after dinner could I now. That way I could focus my efforts on one thing rather than trying to do both. Without overcooking the fish, I was trying to hurry the custard along without turning it to scrambled eggs.

And now you know why I think cooking is a community effort.  I can’t be trusted in the kitchen by myself.  The food may be good but in the end, disaster is waiting just around the corner.

As it turned out the cioppino was incredible if I do say so myself. Paired with a couple of bottles of Cotes du Rhone wines dinner couldn’t have been better . . . even if the dessert-less mess could have been avoided. At the end of the day, it isn’t really about the food or the wine.  It’s about sharing life with those you care about most.

Portland, BBQ & French Wine?

One of the benefits of traveling some for work is that I get to try new places to eat.  Being a fan of the Food Network, I’m watching Triple D on a regular basis. If you knew immediately that Triple D is Diners, Drive-In’s & Dives, you’re spending too much time on the Food Network, too.

I get caught up in the unusual places that Guy Fieri visits so when I’m in a town and have a chance to visit one I try to do just that. Which I had the opportunity to do when I visited Oregon recently. While I haven’t hit a lot of the Triple D locations, I have tried a few.  To be honest I haven’t found all of them to be hits.

My traveling partner for the trip, a wizened young gentleman a decade or so older than me was up for an adventure.

Since our return trip to Chicago was bright and early the next morning (6 am flights should be outlawed but I had a concert at Symphony Center that night) I didn’t want to stay out too late but was interested in trying one of his finds in Portland.

After checking out the six or so restaurants that had been on the show, I settled in for a BBQ joint called Pahdnah’s. Now to get there, I plugged the directions into the Hertz NeverLost system. Now those who have used NeverLost before, you know that it should be entitled Almost Never Lost because it doesn’t always know the correct route as I’ve circled the location a couple of times before ignoring the “recalculating” notice and trying myself.

I was a little concerned – no, Brad was a little concerned – as we noticed the gang graffiti as we passed through several neighborhoods until reaching our destination safely and without any exciting moments. As we pulled past the restaurant I noticed that we were in kind of a trendy neighborhood. After parking, I could smell the smoke – always a good sign around a BBQ place!

We had arrived in the midst of the dinner rush as we got the last empty table and then there was a line. A long line. I took that as a good sign.

I was intrigued a little as I read the menu describing the restaurant – a bit of Texas in the Pacific Northwest.  But what I noticed most of all was that all the wines by the glass were French.

What?

Oregon has a thriving wine industry and I’ve really enjoyed a number of Oregon Pinot Noirs over the years.  While I hadn’t intended on getting a bottle of wine, I asked to see the wine list to see if there were any Oregon wines by the bottle.

Nope. Not one single one.

Every bottle was French.  I have to say, I don’t typically think French wine when I think of BBQ, smoked or otherwise.

When I suggested to the wait staff that I was surprised to find no Oregon wines on the wine list, she responded by saying the owner was a big fan of French wines. The special of the night was smoked lamb shoulder and ribs.  I was also tempted by the smoked trout.  Since I was told I could order the trout anytime, I ordered the lamb (even though I live in Chicago not Portland and anytime constitutes likely never).

Now I love lamb.  I don’t know if it’s because lamb was a rare treat associated with my grandfather or if it’s just the flavor. But I often find myself ordering lamb whenever I can. (Now I’m going to have to try smoking some this summer!) So after ordering the Thursday night special,  I ordered a bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pape.  I’d mention the vintner but my un-reasonably priced “semi-smart” phone has a very bad camera and the restaurant was a little dark.

Frankly taking me out of my old stand-bys is asking for disaster – and this had all the earmarks of said disaster. Since we had had a pretty good – and sizeable – lunch of Mexican food I wasn’t overly hungry and Brad, being a little guy, doesn’t eat that much we didn’t have any appetizers.

When the wine arrived, I was pleasantly surprised – as was Brad – with the quality of the wine. You see, I wasn’t sure what to expect because it’s not too often that I find a good bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pape for under $40 at Binny’s let alone in a restaurant. But this was only $36 which means I’m going to be looking for it at my local wine supplier when I get back (that is if I can read the label from my crappy phone camera!)

So before our meals arrived we enjoyed a little co-worker banter over a really fine bottle of wine. I’ve always enjoyed traveling with Brad over the years but if I didn’t make his life a little difficult, it wouldn’t be the same. To say this trip was no different would be an understatement.

When the food arrived, the friendly banter subsided to a lot of chewing and swallowing. In this particular case, Pahdnah’s was a hit.  The lamb couldn’t have been any better. And paired with the Chateau Neuf du Pape was a delightful change of pace.

The French may have a lot to learn when it comes to the deliciously delicate flavor of smoked meats known as American BBQ, they certainly know their way around the grape.

Macaroons & Hot Wings

I didn’t realize that Super Bowl Sunday and National Nutella Day were one and the same.  So what better way to celebrate National Nutella Day than by making Nutella Macaroons? Then I could celebrate the Super Bowl by making some hot wings.

Now normally I would be having some folks over to watch the Super Bowl but not this year.  I’m not sure why. Was it because the Bears had such a bad ending to their season and I didn’t care anymore? I love the Super Bowl primarily for the ads since my favorite team (Da Bears) are rarely in the title game.   With the game starting around 5ish central time I had a lot to do that afternoon.

The first was making the macaroons.  Having learned a few things in the kitchen . . . I can improvise more when I’m cooking and baking is primarily a follow-the-instructions event . . . I needed my kitchen scale.  Trouble is I’ve been looking for it for months.

Well ever since Thanksgiving when my mom was in town.  Now the thing about mom is that she has her own ideas as to where things should go and how to put them away.  Trouble is, I’ve found over the last 50 years, she’s the only one who thinks that way.  When she leaves I am constantly looking for something that was “put away.”

This year it was the kitchen scale.  I turned the pantry upside down.  I emptied every cabinet.  I even went through all the drawers.

Nothing.

I even pulled out some of the videos by the television to see if maybe it got moved there.  Still nothing.  At this point I should have opened a bottle of wine because I tried to make some coffee and spilled it everywhere.  So while I’m wiping up the spilled coffee I happen to look alongside my knife rack.  There’s something white standing there – as if at attention. 

You guessed it.  She pulled a Sherlock Holmes on me and hid it in nearly plain view.  I hadn’t thought to completely empty my counters. (Note to self: next time mom comes to town, clean off counters to find stored items.)

With my handy scale in hand, I was ready.  Well almost.  Rule number one in my kitchen is to have the right ingredients.  Since the macaroons were made from a sort of hazelnut flour I had to grind a couple of cups.  Unfortunately I had only partially read the recipe. So I broke rule number one.  Instead of getting blanched hazelnuts I had regular ones.  I tried to blanche them to get the skin off but no such luck.

Since I didn’t have the patience to peel each hazelnut they all went into the food processor.  Then I went separating the eggs for the meringue.  I follow the approach I learned from Jacques Pepin which is to gently crack the eggs and put into a container and then to take the yolks out.  Gently is the operative word. One yolk that breaks ruins the entire whites. Came close on one but managed to complete the task without having to start over.

If my father-in-law taught me anything, it’s always have the right tools for the job.  In fact, that’s rule number 2 in my kitchen.  Here I didn’t have any of the right tools for the job. After beating the whites and mixing the ingredients together I had a dotted mixture that I put into a Ziplock bag and cut the end off.  

So . . .  I was making merengue blobs on the silpat mat. Big, awkward blobs. Not the most appetizing items on the menu.  In the oven they went and when they came out, they weren’t nearly done enough.   That’s when I had enough.  It was time to shift focus.

On to the hot wings. I found this great recipe for wings in Saveur magazine from a BBQ joint in Kansas City.  Frankly, I’m a huge fan of Kansas City BBQ so I’ve been making these wings on the grill for some time.  Being February in Chicago I really didn’t feel enthusiastic about pulling  the cover off the grill and attempting to grill in below freezing weather. Not that I haven’t done that before but just not today.

After the debacle of the macaroons I wasn’t in the mood to fight the wind and the cold outside so I decided to get them in the oven.  I had marinated them overnight in my version or their rub (that’s why I love cooking more than baking . . . it’s a lot more forgiving) so they were ready for the oven and time to start the sauce. 

Now I love my wings to be well coated so I doubled the recipe for the sauce.  It began by melting one pound of butter.  Nothing can be bad with butter (or bacon!). A little of my favorite hot sauce and some Old Bay seasoning.  Very simple. Very delicious.

They came out of the oven just as the game was starting.  I packed them up and took them over to a friend’s house to share and settled in for the ads – if not the game. Turns out the game was better than the ads although once again the VW ad was my top pick.  Paired with Apothic Red the wings, the game and a friend to share it with.

Nothing better than that! Well . . . watching a Bears Super Bowl win might come out on top.