Why You Should Always Carry a Corkscrew

Recently I was at the J. Paul Getty museum with some art friends. The occasion was memorable for many reasons; a few of this group I had not seen for a many years, others I was meeting for the first time. I had never been to The Getty before and the skies were clear enough to see Catalina from the museum balconies. This was a day of firsts. (Those of you who know LA understand the Catalina thing.)

The exhibit I had gone to see was the Pacific Standard Time: Crosscurrents in LA. One of the ‘coolest’ pieces was Ed Ruscha’s 1968 painting, “The Los Angeles County Museum of Art on Fire”.

A funny blog on the subject of the paintings meaning can be found at LACMA.wordpress.com. At the time it was being painted, contemporary artists were angry over not being included in their city’s art scene – there was no place to display their work. Then the LACMA opened - a strict architectural box of a thing surrounded by a mote – very auspicious and not at all reminiscent of a place to expect modern art – still there was few openings for the local arts. The painting expressed the feeling of anger and frustration perfectly and hosted a very lively discussion from our group.

Another painting of interest to me was “A Bigger Splash” by Hockney. I had always thought that David Hockney had drizzled a bit of white paint on his canvas and made a few sweeping strokes to create the splash in the pool. Up close, in fact he had used a tool much like a fork to rake into the wet paint to achieve the splash. The fact that the viewer never gets to see who (or what) just entered the water has always been a delight for me.

Then there was lunch. Our group had managed to procure a private board room for our get-together but we had to go down stairs a couple of floors to get something to eat. Coming up in the elevator with trays of soup was hilarious; all of us agreed this scene should be in a movie.

Choosing my meal, I had taken a chance and purchased a $10 half bottle of cabernet sauvignon, agreeing to split it with a new acquaintance, but was unconvinced that this was a good idea. Just as one should never prepare a dish for the first time when company is about to arrive (it rarely works out well), the same I think, is true with wines. Shouldn’t one have already tasted and approved of a wine before serving it to guests, to avoid a fiasco? I have never heard of the cab, never seen its label and was more than a little concerned that I did not have a pocket aerator with me. A bad wine is often the reason a situation is remembered and I was not looking forward to this being one of them.

We made ourselves comfortable and tasted our lunch. Ah, the food is fabulous. Let’s try the wine.

Cork.

No corkscrew.

The investment of time away from my lunch date added worry to my insecurity. Why hadn’t I thought of this before leaving the cafeteria? However, in finding a sommelier I also found the restaurant. Elegant and inviting; artsy and upscale, though relaxed; I will definitely be returning.

Back in our private digs, we pour a bit into our glasses. Beautiful deep vampire red colour - you know, the one with a touch of maroon in it. The very little, but graceful nose tells me this will NOT be awful. There’s hope! Finally, the first sip; full bodied a bit spicy but subtle and well blended, and a lightly sweet aftertaste with a long peppery, astringent finish. We look at each other and I realize my wine lover friend had the same worries, and the same relief. “Mmmm, that’s good.” We agree. “What is this?” I turn the bottle around: Hahn. The label has a signature on it (not unlike my own penmanship) that says ‘Nicky Hahn’. Hey, my namesake! (Again, thank goodness it was a good choice.) Hmm, central coast, 2009. I make a mental note to get more of this. I picked up the cork to reseal the last portion and notice it is embossed with the winery’s website. I have heard some do this, but this is the first time I’ve seen it. Great idea; much easier to pop the cork in your pocket or handbag rather than the whole bottle if you have nothing to write with when you want to remember the wine.

As expected, the red elixir opened the conversation to a animated and enjoyable exchange and topped off a perfect day… truly a day of firsts.

Fishy Proposal

First, let me say I’m not a big fan of shellfish, but when this wine bottle suggested crab as a pairing possibility, I had to try it.

“Serve chilled with crab cakes, seared Ahi tuna on waffle crackers or fresh baked French bread and cheese” says the back label of my 2010 Cupcake chardonnay. Initially, I wondered just how dedicated they are to actual pairing, as everyone and their grandmother already know about the cheese thing even if cheese is the number one taste eliminator of subtle flavours in white wines. I mulling it over and decided to be impressed by the company’s attempt to educate its interested drinkers with these mini menus. Great idea!

Some of you may know that I’ve been flirting with Cupcake for weeks and though I’ve enjoyed it with many dishes, for some reason this exoskeleton proposal stuck in my mind.

You don’t think it could have anything to do with my arachnophobia, do ya?

Naaah…

So today I finally had enough nerve. The verdict? The wine was the best part of the pair.

However, I see what they mean; the delicate blend of distinct flavours of the Cupcake, being fruity to start with a long woody finish, were not overpowered by the Trader Joe’s Maryland crab cakes. Much like sniffing coffee between perfumes or ‘cleansing’ ones palette with pickled ginger before another bite of sushi, the chardonnay made it possible to get through the meal.

I’m trying the tuna next, though probably without the crackers. A mixed green salad complete with five minute egg on top, sliced open to drool out like a Hawaiian volcano is more my style.

But for those of you not in love with seafood, please, be my guest – move on to the cheese!

 

LiveJournal Tags: Cupcake Chardonnay,pairing,crab cakes,Niki Chanel,wine and cheese

Children of Another Man’s War

I had said last week that I planned to drink an Ancient Vines Mourvèdre from Cline Vineyards after a movie. The deal was to go with friends to see a Gerard Butler movie in Hollywood (that I knew nothing about), and the wine was to be a celebratory first viewing sort of thing.

But toasting was cancelled.

Of course the acting, writing and cinematography were excellent; the sets and scenes were authentic and in keeping with the situations. Lighting was superb and the action - electric. So why was no glass of wine raised to applaud?

Because the film “Machine Gun Preacher” was not meant to entertain, but to educate. A very sad lesson it was, too.

Gerard Butler plays Sam Childers, a reformed gang biker from Pennsylvania. His journey from the edge of self loathing to his role as guardian angle of abducted children in Uganda, Sudan and the Congo is told brilliantly. Writer Jason Keller and Director Marc Forster have carefully woven a tapestry of tragedy just merciful enough we don’t close our eyes to the problem, and skillful enough to help us understand that the truth is even more horrific than portrayed.

I am no international news journalist and don’t fully understand how things got this out of control in southern Sudan but it appears a high school drop-out named Joseph Kony believes he is a witch doctor and his misguided aim is to install a theocratic Ugandan government based on the Ten Commandments. Which commandments he thinks he is following are certainly not those we know of in the Western world - all of those have been broken repeatedly by him and his guerilla troops - one in particular ‘thou shall not kill’.

His army, currently called the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), attack innocent villagers who have nothing to do with politics, with no provocation and in the most vicious manner, then steal away into the night. They abduct children or kill them. The aim is to beef up their army with the frightened children using fear, threats, pain and death to manipulate them. Everything is taken from these kids - their parents often killed, their villages burned, their childhoods destroyed… My concern is when Kony is deposed, his ‘army’ will be in serious need of psychological help - and there may not be any. The ‘White Preacher’ doesn’t want to wait that long.

Sam Childers wrote a book titled “Another Man’s War” but it is all our war. The United States government has known about this problem since the ‘80s but has had intermittent intelligence from these remote areas in central Africa - not quite enough to go on. After 9/11, Kony’s LRA has been redefined as terrorists and efforts to stop his madness are underway. Reading about it from the ‘man on the street’ will give you a clearer view than I could paint; seeing the movie will be a hell of a wake up call, though I suspect you’re not asleep. It is worth the education.

It was my good fortune to meet with Sam Childers and Jason Keller in the lobby of the Arc Light theatre which I like to call the Dome. In the dim light I mistook Jason for Sam, but once I looked into Sam’s eyes I knew he’d had experiences far beyond our own. Jason explained that it took six years to bring this story to the screen. Once I’d seen the film I was heartbroken to realize how long this horror has been going on in the world. But Sam has a trick or two up his sleeve. One of them is a positive attitude. He surprised me by quoting some of his scriptures, like “In James 3, verse 12, G-d says a man must have only one wife, but he can have seven motorcycles.” He smiles with abandon. (There is no James 3.)

Later, in the hall leading to our seats before the last show is over, I’m walking past a few people standing along the wall. I step on someone’s foot and, turning to apologize, I fell into them. Looking up, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I recognize my victim; “Gerry?”

“Yes?” He leans to catch my fall.

I am forgiven for my clumsiness and we have a short conversation about his part in the project before he goes on stage to answer questions from the last audience.

See the movie. Buy the book. Save the children.

LiveJournal Tags: Gerard Butler,Machine Gun Preacher,Sam Childers,Uganda,Sudan,Congo,orphans

Grapes of Wrath

You know, not everybody is into wine. OK, I see the shock on your face, but hear me out.

Aside from the obvious reasons like religious practice, under aged youngsters, food allergies, psychological references and previous bad experiences and so on, there seems to be taste incongruence's from person to person. Taste is the discerning sense.

Unlike eyesight where we see and accept what we see, taste makes us wait a moment to decide if this nibble will please us. To make it more interesting we aren’t consistent with ourselves - we don’t always like the same foods; “I’m off shrimp.” or “I’m not in the mood for ice cream.” but you never hear, “I’m in the mood for a purple sunset.” Taste is so finicky that when the sommelier pours a tiny bit of wine for the customer to try, to be certain it pleases, I wonder if the should serve everyone at the table this way.

I have a friend that likes wine fine, but enjoys food far less spicy than I do. I was curious what she would think about an Italian red I had just purchased. I poured her a tiny bit and let her see, sniff, then sip…

Her face screwed up into a raisin, her eyes squeezed shut, and her lips puckered smaller and smaller, worrying me I might have to call 911. She shook her head, then again more vigorously. “No. No! I don’t like this at all.” I was not prepared with a spit bucket so was relieved when she had decided to swallow. It looked like a tough desicion, though.

The men that tried it, were ok with it but would refer to drink something else, and I was somewhat in the middle, leaning toward not liking it.

So, a few questions:

1. If it’s that hard to like, why does the vintner make it?
2. Are there cultural preferences that can dictate taste?
3. Can a vintner make a profit with only first time sales?
4. Wasn’t there anything they could do to make it taste better?
5. Why does ‘taste bad’ provoke a universal face of revulsion when ‘taste good’ is so personal - not universal at all?
6. How can something taste so bad without smelling that bad?
7. If it tastes bad, is it in bad taste?

If you’ve had wine at all, you’ve probably tasted wine you didn’t like, but was it you or was it the wine? How do you know? And if it’s the wine, is it bad for you? I mean, if you were to drink straight vinegar, it wouldn’t hurt you. So exactly what are our taste buds telling us? I’m open to input on the subject and I’m betting others would like to know, too. If you have any of the answers we are waiting for your response before we take another sip.

Oh, one last question: Could these be the origins of the spit bucket?

LiveJournal Tags: bad wine,sense of taste,tastes,Niki Chanel,vintners,involuntary response,spit bucket,wine sales

Drinking Wine in the Desert

I’m in Vegas this weekend with friends, and we’ve been out on the town (in the heat) and eaten our fill of restaurant fare, so tonight we stayed in the condo.

I made a faux Chicken Marsala - which was pretty tasty. Either that or we were really hungry. Normally, a dish is served with a bottle of wine. We drank three… three different kinds. (Is that ok?) All were inexpensive: an unbelievable $1.99 from the Las Vegas Trader Joe’s, though not marked TJ’s) and all were good! Products of Umbria, Italy. We started with a 2010 Vola Trebbiano Pinot Grigio before the table was set, had a 2010 Vola Sangiovese with dinner, and drank Cupcake Chardonnay for dessert, also from TJ’s which I brought from Los Angeles. My mom liked it and got me a bottle, bless her heart. The label says citrus-y with a hint of vanilla. Though I could tell there was something sweet-ish, to me it came across as a sweet bark flavour, like cinnamon but not cinnamon. While I was deciding, up came that Chardonnay oak that I love. Nice.

For background music and entertainment, I put on a travel video of Southern France and all were happy. Yes, I can mix cultures. I’m an American with European upbringing. Welcome to my world.

But I’m thinking you might be wondering, “What exactly is faux Chicken Marsala?” Before we get into that, I want to tell you a cooking secret: whatever you cook, the food always tastes better if the chef has a glass of wine first.

Having no idea what I’m going to make, I check the fridge for supplies. We had boneless, skinless chicken and some grapes - three colours, in fact. I found a box of raisins, and thankfully there were onions.

I sauté at least three loosely chopped onions in olive oil and butter in a pot while browning the chicken in a skillet, also with a bit of olive oil and butter. To the onions, I added grapes, raisins, bit of pepper and any other seasoning salt I could find (I found Lawry’s) but not much or it will toughen the meat and taste commercial. When the chicken begins to stick to the pan, add enough white wine to sizzle the chicken loose and make a bit of sauce - about two glasses of white wine. Reduce by half, for taste and thickening. Add the chicken and juices to the onion mixture and lower the heat to medium. Add a bit more wine to the skillet and gently dissolve the brownings into the wine and add it to the main mixture. I thought it needed a bit of sweet and was lucky to find some syrup. About 3 or 4 tablespoons did the trick. So far, so good, but it lacked colour. Aw, hell, add some red wine until it looks right - a glass of that Sangiovese, please.

It was getting hot in the kitchen so I let it simmer while we hung out on the balcony overlooking the inviting swimming pool and talked about why it’s closed for the summer.

Time to eat. We lit the candles and served th3e chicken with potatoes and veggies. Oh yeah, and the wine. Luxury.

A few hours of Fringe reruns in anticipation of the new season and my friends are off to bed. Not me, though. I’m staying up to enjoy the storm, watching the jagged bolts arc the sky reflected in the pool and hearing the deep sounds of boulders falling from heaven rumble about the open desert. The bit a rain that was squeezed from the clouds evaporated in minutes. Perfect Vegas day.

LiveJournal Tags: Italian wine,Trebbiano Pinot Grigio,Sangiovese,Chicken Marsala,Niki Chanel,Las Vegas

Hot Mid-Summer Nights

It’s hot. I can’t sleep.

The open window is my only source of cool air and there is no breeze. Staring into the darkness unable to rest, I resign. Better to read than stare at the ceiling for hours.

I flick on the lamp and resume my current supernatural suspense. Almost immediately I am visited by a butterfly. Cool! It (He? She?) lands on my nose and seems to be staring at me with its orb-y, stickin’- out eyes. Not a moth; a butterfly – the small monarchy looking one. I stare cross-eyed back at it, wondering why it’s awake this late at night. G-d alone knows what the butterfly is thinking. It must have something to do with rotating antennae. This is so weird I fight the compulsion to brush it away and we stare at each other. It’s still better than looking at the ceiling.

I have always felt that personal experiences with animals proved that a direct connection to the realm of magic and alien life was possible like a kind of message from the universe or a mystic calling. It’s happening to me again with this butterfly. When I was nine I thought about such things all the time. Always hoping for another sign of the magic, I took silver linings seriously, wanting to know if there were any golden linings.

Lately, it has been raccoons. A mama coon with four babies visits us every night, early enough to be entertainment with dinner. I have learned that giving them some leftovers from the fridge keeps them from turning over the garbage cans. I know the dangers and keep my distance but I get to watch. What intrigues me is the eye contact; they look right into a particular part of your soul, transmitting an extra-sensory warning: “If you do anything to scare me, I will never trust you again.” It’s a contract and I obey. Besides, what if they can hear my thoughts? “Aw, she thinks I’m cute.”

But Babs the butterfly is sending me sweet nothings and we’re becoming friends. I felt a deep relaxing sigh well up from the depths, and right on cue Babs gently takes her leave and saunters, as only butterflies can, out the open window. Is it my imagination or is it cooler?

Yep, it’s cool enough to put down the unfinished fiction and turn out the light.

Was that magic? Coincidence? Alien contact? D, none of the above? I drift into the unknown buoyed on a breeze from hundreds of black and orange fans.

LiveJournal Tags: can’t sleep,butterfly,Niki Chanel,supernatural

Which Wine is Perfect?

Zinfandel or pinot noir? The indecision has haunted me for hours. What will pair with tonight’s main dish?

I have company coming for a summer’s eve meal on the patio. Though these are all good friends that I have known for years, this is a momentous occasion for me. See, I have recently been re-bitten by the wine lover’s bug and my condition has advanced.

Since covering a recent gourmet Food and Wine Festival, my interest in wine has risen to the top of my passion list. And it wasn’t just the flavours and smells - it was the people. I felt like ‘one of the gang’, at peace with my closest friends and we are all at the right place at the right time.

Those of you who think wine is just an alcoholic beverage are missing the boat. Wine is not about getting drunk, at least not to me. Taking a single sip of wine that suits you is a transporting experience; visions, sensations and memories you didn’t know you had come rushing to the surface in a seductive welcome as though the wine itself has missed you. One does not want to get drunk and miss anything.

Growing up around artists, collectors and wine drinkers, I often wondered why people that liked wine also liked art, travel and reading. What is it that these things have in common? my uninitiated self would ask. I loved all those things but still didn’t feel like I belonged in the presence of wine aficionado’s.

What changed for me that night was the depth of my love for wine, in particular pinot noir, my favourite. It was like finally having the courage to let go of the side of the pool and use what I had learned, finding that I could swim – and enjoy it! I was not, of course, swimming in wine, I was immersing my attention into the effort the wine maker had put into this creation, listening to the plant that grew the fruit, being at one with the soil that nurtured it. The unabashed openness of the drink allowed me to join strangers in an eye-to-eye taste and expose my rapture, noting they too were in my shoes. Instant friendships were forged. This is the secret of wine – the secret of life; knowing and appreciating my fellow man…er men… and women… oh, you know what I mean. This kinship is why we are here – to be with others, to share our experiences, and to discover our own personal perfections.

To say that this was an ‘ah ha’ moment is an understatement. This was an epiphany of life altering importance for me and I am grateful.

Ah, I hear a whisper - my answer has arrived: a 2008, J Vineyard’s pink tinged pinot noir from the Russian River Valley will do nicely.

Perfect.

Wanna join us?

Technorati Tags: Niki Chanel,wine,25th Honda Wine Festival,Pinot Noir,Zinfandel,J Vineyard,Russian River Valley

For the Love of . . .

Oh, all right; I guess you could say I’m a romantic.

Writing romance stories, however is not my forte; rather I’m apt to add a romantic interlude between a couple here and there, but the over all feel of my pieces only tend to lean across the table and touch your hand.

That table, however, will undoubtedly be laden with a Mediterranean feast of vegetables, olives and the all important wine. This, to me, is the essence of romance… relaxing time together with the ones I love.

Colour me old-fashioned if you must, but my definition of romance hardly gets out of the sensuality bag. If and or when togetherness becomes sexual, the relationship is doomed to some kind of end. Either the passion peter’s out or the marriage becomes comfortable; either way the electricity of anticipation and mutual magnetic desire to seduce each other becomes diminished.

That’s why the wine is so all-important.

To my mind, wine and this tenuous attraction are the closest things to magic I have experienced in this world. The magic of someone’s attention can make us feel beautiful. We are beautiful! When we feel that kind of good, we are in that state of grace they talk about in Regencies.

But the wine helps…

In fact, it works so well, one might not even need the partner! Somehow Mother Nature has created a love potion – a liquid lesson in appreciation. After a sip or two of a rich Burgundy, any moon is shockingly gorgeous, the flowering tree is a marvel and the birds are speaking a language we can almost understand.

If you doubt me, just try stargazing with a grape soda or an energy drink and see how magical that is. Sure, if you’re paying attention it will be interesting, but the romance is missing.

There’s that word again.

Hey, I have an idea; let’s go pour a glass of pinot and I’ll show you what I mean.

LiveJournal Tags: Romance,wine,Niki Chanel,mediterranean meal,pinot

I once was a Panster

I always thought I wrote ‘by the seat of my pants’ – even before I knew the slang for such a writer. I will forever remember the day I first heard the term ‘Panster’; sunlight ebbed into the windows of Encino’s Barnes & Noble book store, bathing members of the Los Angeles Romance Authors in golden morning innocence.

A lively discussion was taking place… and a poll: “Which camp do you belong to, Pansters or Plotters?” A show of hands volunteered information that changed me - I belonged to the in-crowd! I was on the ‘right track’!

I continued to hone my skills with classes, how-to books, and every inspiring lecture by literary gurus. My pieces grew in word count and complexity. Until last month.

I had a break-through during a week long challenge we call SPEW, which stands for Stop Procrastinating, Everybody Write. The characters of my WIP (Work In Progress) morphed into alternate beings. It occurred to me that these new actors might take over the roles of my existing players. That would be a problem because I had worked hard to flesh out these players and was not willing to give them up to a new cast. Maybe these new characters belonged in another manuscript. The next thought “I have to discipline my characters” paralyzed me. The sudden realization that I was actually NOT a Panster scared me. OMG! I’m NOT a natural writer – I’m a sham. This was not a case of character failure – this was a ‘me’ failure.

That day I saw myself for what I really am - a plotter – an organizer, a planner, a maker of lists. *Sigh*, these are not Panster traits. What do I do now?

I had been thinking it would ALL come to me. I thought Plotting was too rational to write a fresh novel – not creative enough to make my stories sing. I clung to the idea that the best way was the Panster way. I had changed and it chilled me to the bone.

After a glass of wine and some staring at a wall, I decided I had come this far and I had to see it through. I began to list and organize my characters, putting them into their separate stories, dressing them and their scenes, sketching out time-lines in Excel and fitting them into pre-existing stories… then a pattern emerged. The story spines (or follow-throughs) of my various story ideas were always so clear to me – and easy, but putting people into them was the opposite - tough as titanium.

Many meditations later a compromise was reached; it turns out that I am a plot Panster and a character Plotter, and the two can work together. It’s ok to write the way I do, and knowing how I do it only helps me cut down on the struggle.

Just one thing: if tomorrow someone asked me, “Which camp do you belong to, Pansters or Plotters?” should I raise my hand for both or not at all?

Technorati Tags: Panster,Plotters,Los Angeles Romance Authors,Barnes and Noble,Niki Chanel,writing

Expensive Wine

by Niki Chanel

I just read a blog by Brian Clegg about a book titled ‘The Billionaire’s Vinegar’. Yes, it’s about wine – very old and ancient wine.

Though not having read it, yet (it’s new on my TBR list, so it’s fairly far down), I am intrigued by the blog’s information regarding the possible fakery of such expensive sale items. Some of these bottles have apparently gone for as much as $100,000!! It would make sense that some brave entrepreneur would try to fake a few.

But what do you do with a $100,000 bottle of wine?

You drink it, silly! Lordy, introduce me to the guys who spend their money like that!

Now you and I both know that if wine is left out overnight, it tastes like vinegar. If the cork is tainted by TCA, the wine can be ruined, or ‘corked’.

Here’s my question to all you fabulously wealthy wine connoisseurs: How do you know the wine in that aged container is still wine and not vinegar? How do you know it’s not rebottled table wine? How do you know it will be worth the expense?

The only answer I can possibly accept is, “I’m a speculator.”

Ahhh, the romance of a gambler who prefers a  candlelight tasting to a Vegas poker table – give me that any day. These are individuals in no need of a wash-board stomach or a tan. All they need to get my attention is to invite me for a glass!

Tense, excited, sitting in anticipating as the sommelier opens the bottle… one wonders - what will they pair with this enigma?

 

 

 

Technorati Tags: Wine,Billionaire's Vinegar,Brian Clegg,speculator,gambler,expensive wine,Niki Chanel,Alexandra Copeland,wine tasting