It has been a while since I last posted a WOTW, but I am still in cheap white wine mode. And you simply cannot do better for the buck than this one.
2006 KWV Chenin Blanc, $9.99, NSLC
All the white wine you really need for sipping with dinner out on the deck. And it ain't a Chardonnay! Great wine, simply great for $10. And they won't run out of it for a while, either. Clean good acidity, slight smokey in the background, and some mild chalky tannin. Trace of tropical fruit. Clean, crisp and straightforward. Sure, there is not a lot of complexity, but it is $10!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Poutine on the Hops - A Montreal Pub Crawl
Beer buddy Alexandre was rallying some of the troops for a Montreal pub crawl the night before the March in Montreal (MIM) Beer Event. MIM is a reason to go to Montreal, and I have been to it the past 12 years in a row. I am pretty sure that despite the claims of one Montrealer, I am the only person to have been to all of them, and I live in Halifax.
Alexandre wants to start at his local pub, a very nice little spot way up on Saint Laurent neat St. Zotique called Vice et Versa. This place's claim to fame is a complete reliance on Quebec produced products, from cheese, to bread, to meats, to drink. There are about 20 beers on tap, all micros, most of which I have never had.
I beat Alexandre there, and order a 1/2 pint of the Brasseurs et Freres IPA (5.6% - ok, thinish, nice hops) to help me contemplate a theme for the evening. Plans were to end up at Le Cheval Blanc, a long ways away, which meant that there were a lot of potential stops in between. But we had until 10 am the next day, when the conference started....
Alex arrives shortly after 5 pm. No one else will be joining us here, as they will be meeting us at Dieu de Ciel, on Laurier and Clarke, about a 15 minute walk away. I'm hungry, and know enough to know I'll need some food for the evening. I order a cheese and pate plate, and follow Alex's habit of ordering a small size glass they sell at Vice et Versa called a "Galopin". It is sort of a large sampler glass. Maybe 4 ounces. I try the Bieropholie Cascade IPA, which was excellent; the Hopfenstark, post Colonial (IPA) 6.5%, drying hop bitterness with good malt balance; and the Hopfenstark, Ostalgia Rousse, nice, hoppier than expected.
True to form, I want more than 4 ounces of a beer. When my food arrives, and to cleanse my palate of the hops, I order a pint of Trois Mousquetieres, Dartagnan Lager, which was clean, a bit grainy, but with a nice malt character and trace of sulfur on the nose. The cheeses and pates are served with great olives (Quebec olives?) and nice breads, some toasted. This makes me happy.
Shortly, we are ready to begin the trek. The success of the IPA tasting here has set my theme, and I'm off to try as many IPA's, or beers close to that, as I can.
At Dieu de Ciele, the Corne de Diable IPA is on cask, on the hand pump. It is against my religion to not have a full pint of cask conditioned beer. This one is soft in the mouth with a very complex malt profile, and long long finishing hops with some vegetal notes. It is strange being here without cigarette smoke....
We hold down the end of the bar for a while, now joined by one of Alexandre's friends, who I'd met the night before. We are subsequently joined by another local beer guy, and once he has his taste, we are off to the Sergeant Recruiteur, not far away, just down Saint Laurent. There I have a pint of Sergeant Recruiteur Hip Hop IPA, which was very yummy, Northern Brewer hops I was guessing, traditional style, and balanced.
We picked up another member of the crawl here, one of the Ontario CABA crowd in for the next day's event. He was on the other side of the bar, and looked familier form previous MIM's.
Next stop was the Reservoir on Duluth, just off Saint Laurent. I had the IPA, a pint (surprised?). This beer was the best I have ever had at this place, known more for its excellent menu (it is really a bistro, well above pub food), with a good balance and chewey hop palate.
From the Res' we head down the hill (this is the right direction to do a walking pub crawl) and decide that the walk to the next brewpub, Amere a Boire, is too far for our liking (or was that bladders?) and we pay a visit to Else's Cafe, a great little neighbourhood pub/resto that is on Le Boullion. There I have a pint of L'Alchimiste IPA (clean, crisp hopping, slightly thin malt, bitter finish), and scarf down three (count em!) samosas, with some hot hot chutney, that went great with the beer.
After the food, we head off to Amere a Boire, on Saint Denis just above Ontario, having lost one of our party to the proximity of his hotel (it is now fairly late, or early, depending on how you look at it). Once there I have a pint of Amere a Boire Pale Ale, a hoppy bitter on cask and hand pump, that is as refreshingly hoppy as most of the IPA's of the evening.
A nod to the bartender, and we are off down the street to the Cheval Blanc. The place is still packed. I get a pint of the Cheval's India Rouge, a hoppy amber ale that is good, but has some slightly hot alcohol and balance issues. Or is that the samosas?
This ought to be the place where we eschew walking and get a cab to Brutopia for their IPA, but I am the only one doing an IPA theme (I didn't mention that, did I?) so we continue on to a nearby place called Yer Mad. This is the mead and cider bar (as well as beer) that Alexandre introduced me to a couple of years ago.
Alex is still in sampler mode, so we try a bunch:
Four Meads: Benoite, Verge d'Or, Marie Clos, Cap des Tourmentes (all good)
Three Ciders: Cheval de Glace, Kerissac, Verger de Minot (I loved the Kesissac)
and a Pommier, blend of mead, cider and Calvados, from a producer whose name escaped me.
We close the bar down.
Of course, no pub crawl that closes the bars in Montreal (3 am) is complete without putting the correct cap on the contents of your abused stomach. We head back up the hill to Deluxe Fries on Saint Denis for a final shot of Poutine.
We all head back to our respective beds, me to wake up the next morning at 9, to shower, and then find my way down the street to begin the beer conference with a breakfast of beer - weizen, and doughnuts.
I am shortly heralded as the king of IPA drinkers... Well, it was not a bad evening. One must really drink full pints to get the full effect, mustn't one? And it really is all about pacing oneself and not going without food.
Alexandre wants to start at his local pub, a very nice little spot way up on Saint Laurent neat St. Zotique called Vice et Versa. This place's claim to fame is a complete reliance on Quebec produced products, from cheese, to bread, to meats, to drink. There are about 20 beers on tap, all micros, most of which I have never had.
I beat Alexandre there, and order a 1/2 pint of the Brasseurs et Freres IPA (5.6% - ok, thinish, nice hops) to help me contemplate a theme for the evening. Plans were to end up at Le Cheval Blanc, a long ways away, which meant that there were a lot of potential stops in between. But we had until 10 am the next day, when the conference started....
Alex arrives shortly after 5 pm. No one else will be joining us here, as they will be meeting us at Dieu de Ciel, on Laurier and Clarke, about a 15 minute walk away. I'm hungry, and know enough to know I'll need some food for the evening. I order a cheese and pate plate, and follow Alex's habit of ordering a small size glass they sell at Vice et Versa called a "Galopin". It is sort of a large sampler glass. Maybe 4 ounces. I try the Bieropholie Cascade IPA, which was excellent; the Hopfenstark, post Colonial (IPA) 6.5%, drying hop bitterness with good malt balance; and the Hopfenstark, Ostalgia Rousse, nice, hoppier than expected.
True to form, I want more than 4 ounces of a beer. When my food arrives, and to cleanse my palate of the hops, I order a pint of Trois Mousquetieres, Dartagnan Lager, which was clean, a bit grainy, but with a nice malt character and trace of sulfur on the nose. The cheeses and pates are served with great olives (Quebec olives?) and nice breads, some toasted. This makes me happy.
Shortly, we are ready to begin the trek. The success of the IPA tasting here has set my theme, and I'm off to try as many IPA's, or beers close to that, as I can.
At Dieu de Ciele, the Corne de Diable IPA is on cask, on the hand pump. It is against my religion to not have a full pint of cask conditioned beer. This one is soft in the mouth with a very complex malt profile, and long long finishing hops with some vegetal notes. It is strange being here without cigarette smoke....
We hold down the end of the bar for a while, now joined by one of Alexandre's friends, who I'd met the night before. We are subsequently joined by another local beer guy, and once he has his taste, we are off to the Sergeant Recruiteur, not far away, just down Saint Laurent. There I have a pint of Sergeant Recruiteur Hip Hop IPA, which was very yummy, Northern Brewer hops I was guessing, traditional style, and balanced.
We picked up another member of the crawl here, one of the Ontario CABA crowd in for the next day's event. He was on the other side of the bar, and looked familier form previous MIM's.
Next stop was the Reservoir on Duluth, just off Saint Laurent. I had the IPA, a pint (surprised?). This beer was the best I have ever had at this place, known more for its excellent menu (it is really a bistro, well above pub food), with a good balance and chewey hop palate.
From the Res' we head down the hill (this is the right direction to do a walking pub crawl) and decide that the walk to the next brewpub, Amere a Boire, is too far for our liking (or was that bladders?) and we pay a visit to Else's Cafe, a great little neighbourhood pub/resto that is on Le Boullion. There I have a pint of L'Alchimiste IPA (clean, crisp hopping, slightly thin malt, bitter finish), and scarf down three (count em!) samosas, with some hot hot chutney, that went great with the beer.
After the food, we head off to Amere a Boire, on Saint Denis just above Ontario, having lost one of our party to the proximity of his hotel (it is now fairly late, or early, depending on how you look at it). Once there I have a pint of Amere a Boire Pale Ale, a hoppy bitter on cask and hand pump, that is as refreshingly hoppy as most of the IPA's of the evening.
A nod to the bartender, and we are off down the street to the Cheval Blanc. The place is still packed. I get a pint of the Cheval's India Rouge, a hoppy amber ale that is good, but has some slightly hot alcohol and balance issues. Or is that the samosas?
This ought to be the place where we eschew walking and get a cab to Brutopia for their IPA, but I am the only one doing an IPA theme (I didn't mention that, did I?) so we continue on to a nearby place called Yer Mad. This is the mead and cider bar (as well as beer) that Alexandre introduced me to a couple of years ago.
Alex is still in sampler mode, so we try a bunch:
Four Meads: Benoite, Verge d'Or, Marie Clos, Cap des Tourmentes (all good)
Three Ciders: Cheval de Glace, Kerissac, Verger de Minot (I loved the Kesissac)
and a Pommier, blend of mead, cider and Calvados, from a producer whose name escaped me.
We close the bar down.
Of course, no pub crawl that closes the bars in Montreal (3 am) is complete without putting the correct cap on the contents of your abused stomach. We head back up the hill to Deluxe Fries on Saint Denis for a final shot of Poutine.
We all head back to our respective beds, me to wake up the next morning at 9, to shower, and then find my way down the street to begin the beer conference with a breakfast of beer - weizen, and doughnuts.
I am shortly heralded as the king of IPA drinkers... Well, it was not a bad evening. One must really drink full pints to get the full effect, mustn't one? And it really is all about pacing oneself and not going without food.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Athenian Brunch
It is Saturday, in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Resurrecting myself from the near dead, I am ready for some sustenance around noon. L and I head out in the general direction of Quinpool Road, passing various lunch/brunch options until we are in front of the Athens, a place we used to haunt, but have gotten away from of late. There are plenty of seats, so, why not, for old time’s sake?
Inside we wait innocently to be seated, and oddly, the first person to notice the lineup walks right by us and asked the person behind us how many are in their party. OK, I didn’t have a morning shower, alright! But maybe she could have at least wrinkled her nose as she totally ignored me. Sheesh….
Feeling like chopped liver, we get seated by another staffer who apparently noticed what had happened, and who seated us with a grin, making some minor apology for her cow-worker’s action.
Things get better from here, though.
The service we eventually get is great, fast and attentive. My fish cakes were really good, a mix of salt cod and fresh cod, with a crispy outer and soft inner. Not too salty, either, which is hard to do. The home fries are good (though not approaching those at Johnny’s), the toast not too burnt, and I am happy. L has poached eggs and toast, with sausages that she makes disappear in short time.
The coffee is OK, and is replenished at suitable interval.
The odd thing is that, unlike my memory of this place, it is not packed. There are ample open seats (we scored one of the booths right along the window) and good service is easy to provide because of that. We have some problem getting a bill to leave, perhaps being caught in the middle of a shift change, but otherwise, a solid Halifax brunch experience.
Inside we wait innocently to be seated, and oddly, the first person to notice the lineup walks right by us and asked the person behind us how many are in their party. OK, I didn’t have a morning shower, alright! But maybe she could have at least wrinkled her nose as she totally ignored me. Sheesh….
Feeling like chopped liver, we get seated by another staffer who apparently noticed what had happened, and who seated us with a grin, making some minor apology for her cow-worker’s action.
Things get better from here, though.
The service we eventually get is great, fast and attentive. My fish cakes were really good, a mix of salt cod and fresh cod, with a crispy outer and soft inner. Not too salty, either, which is hard to do. The home fries are good (though not approaching those at Johnny’s), the toast not too burnt, and I am happy. L has poached eggs and toast, with sausages that she makes disappear in short time.
The coffee is OK, and is replenished at suitable interval.
The odd thing is that, unlike my memory of this place, it is not packed. There are ample open seats (we scored one of the booths right along the window) and good service is easy to provide because of that. We have some problem getting a bill to leave, perhaps being caught in the middle of a shift change, but otherwise, a solid Halifax brunch experience.
Not to hard, not too soft
Our final formal meal of the Montreal visit is planned to be with ME, F and J in the Anglais part of Montreal, NDG. I think NDG stands for Notre Dame de Grace, but because everyone there is English, they refuse to say it long hand, and say "Endeegee" instead. Damn English!
The place we go is called Al Dente. It is a cool small place below grade on the east side of Monkland, about a 10 minute walk from Villa Maria Metro. Best of all, it is a BYO with no corkage. I bring the wine. And I don't just bring any wine. Planeta Cometa - Fiano, 2005 - $35; and Rainoldi Inferno, Valtellina Superiore, Nebbiolo, 2003 - $23). Very cool wines in terms of geek factor, and they were wonderful as drinks or with the food.
We all had fairly simple pasta, pizza, or risotto dishes. All just fine, nothing to blow you away, but very good, inexpensive, and free corkage. God I wish we had this here. Can anyone with $$ buy Milano's and make it work this well?
The place we go is called Al Dente. It is a cool small place below grade on the east side of Monkland, about a 10 minute walk from Villa Maria Metro. Best of all, it is a BYO with no corkage. I bring the wine. And I don't just bring any wine. Planeta Cometa - Fiano, 2005 - $35; and Rainoldi Inferno, Valtellina Superiore, Nebbiolo, 2003 - $23). Very cool wines in terms of geek factor, and they were wonderful as drinks or with the food.
We all had fairly simple pasta, pizza, or risotto dishes. All just fine, nothing to blow you away, but very good, inexpensive, and free corkage. God I wish we had this here. Can anyone with $$ buy Milano's and make it work this well?
Monday, April 02, 2007
Pupuseria La Carreta
Now how's THAT for a title. I am damn near trilingual!
Never having eaten El Salvadoran anything, I am sure, I figured that this Montreal trip could continue the Chilean inspired theme of Latin American food. La Carreta (the cart) was recommended by several people and in a few online sites, so we headed off to explore Little Italy, and to find our first pupuseria.
We arrived to a pretty full, lively place, full mostly of people who very well could have been El Salvadorans (Salvadorians?). I don't know. I didn't ask (L would not let me).
The server who came to greet us, and seated us at a great window table was wonderful. How wonderful? She took the time to describe everything on the menu to us, in English, recommended two different mixed plates when we said we wanted to sample as much different stuff as possible, and even showed us the correct way to eat it. This is always good, as sometimes when I have encountered a "new to me" food, I wonder when eating it in public if the locals are snickering behind their rice bowls, or whatever they have in front of their faces.
The food is almost as wonderful as the server (did I mention she was cute too?).
It consisted of:
pupusa (masa pancake with cheese inside that you cover with a coleslaw type thing before eating like a pizza) it is these that give these places their name.
yuca (fried root veg, I think, this came out like nice like home fries)
tamale de pollo - steamed corn polenta with chicken inside
taco (beef) homemade corn taco with beed/tomato pepper filling.
enchilada di carni (crispy round thin corn with beefy meat/veg/ etc on top)
y casamiento (blue frijoles and rice) Frijoles is refried beans, I think. This means a "marriage" of beans and rice. Ahhh, romance and food. I think this brought tears to L's eyes.
And to drink we had Fresca maranon and Fresca de horchata. I believe the second one is the one that was cinnamon and cocoa like, but was reminiscent of almonds. Correct me. Go ahead!
We ate til we could hardly move. But move we did, on to the nearby Jean Talon Market and a major beer buy at the Marché des Saveurs de Quebec.
Never having eaten El Salvadoran anything, I am sure, I figured that this Montreal trip could continue the Chilean inspired theme of Latin American food. La Carreta (the cart) was recommended by several people and in a few online sites, so we headed off to explore Little Italy, and to find our first pupuseria.
We arrived to a pretty full, lively place, full mostly of people who very well could have been El Salvadorans (Salvadorians?). I don't know. I didn't ask (L would not let me).
The server who came to greet us, and seated us at a great window table was wonderful. How wonderful? She took the time to describe everything on the menu to us, in English, recommended two different mixed plates when we said we wanted to sample as much different stuff as possible, and even showed us the correct way to eat it. This is always good, as sometimes when I have encountered a "new to me" food, I wonder when eating it in public if the locals are snickering behind their rice bowls, or whatever they have in front of their faces.
The food is almost as wonderful as the server (did I mention she was cute too?).
It consisted of:
pupusa (masa pancake with cheese inside that you cover with a coleslaw type thing before eating like a pizza) it is these that give these places their name.
yuca (fried root veg, I think, this came out like nice like home fries)
tamale de pollo - steamed corn polenta with chicken inside
taco (beef) homemade corn taco with beed/tomato pepper filling.
enchilada di carni (crispy round thin corn with beefy meat/veg/ etc on top)
y casamiento (blue frijoles and rice) Frijoles is refried beans, I think. This means a "marriage" of beans and rice. Ahhh, romance and food. I think this brought tears to L's eyes.
And to drink we had Fresca maranon and Fresca de horchata. I believe the second one is the one that was cinnamon and cocoa like, but was reminiscent of almonds. Correct me. Go ahead!
We ate til we could hardly move. But move we did, on to the nearby Jean Talon Market and a major beer buy at the Marché des Saveurs de Quebec.
The Vegans are coming!!!
Is this a scene from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy? No, wait, that's Vogons.
A visit to Montreal's Au Vivre! restaurant, on St. Laurent above Mont Royal.
We were all hungry, and I figured what we didn't eat could come with us.
We started with corn bread with vegan butter, moist, aromatic, with some sweet red pepper bits in it. I am still not exactly sure about whatever that stuff was they called vegan butter.
Lunch came with a green salad with really good dressing, creamy dill (no dairy though...) and other tastes.
Then it was pizza with vegan cheese, red pepper and sun dried tomato sauce. This had a fantastic crust. This place is a great bakery.
I had the Chana sandwich - chickpea and potato curry in homemade Indian flatbread wrap. Delicious, filling, and providing me with plenty of aerosol assisted walking speed for the rest of the day. I also had a pina colada smoothie with my Chana - a tasty combination.
For dessert I had Cafe latte with a great, homemade style chocolate brownie.
L had a veggie burger and salad, and a coffee frappe smoothie for dessert, Clank a "BLT" made with coconut bacon, and a banana chocolate soy silk pie.
A great meal, and no animals were harmed, or even asked to give up their fluids, in the making of it.
A visit to Montreal's Au Vivre! restaurant, on St. Laurent above Mont Royal.
We were all hungry, and I figured what we didn't eat could come with us.
We started with corn bread with vegan butter, moist, aromatic, with some sweet red pepper bits in it. I am still not exactly sure about whatever that stuff was they called vegan butter.
Lunch came with a green salad with really good dressing, creamy dill (no dairy though...) and other tastes.
Then it was pizza with vegan cheese, red pepper and sun dried tomato sauce. This had a fantastic crust. This place is a great bakery.
I had the Chana sandwich - chickpea and potato curry in homemade Indian flatbread wrap. Delicious, filling, and providing me with plenty of aerosol assisted walking speed for the rest of the day. I also had a pina colada smoothie with my Chana - a tasty combination.
For dessert I had Cafe latte with a great, homemade style chocolate brownie.
L had a veggie burger and salad, and a coffee frappe smoothie for dessert, Clank a "BLT" made with coconut bacon, and a banana chocolate soy silk pie.
A great meal, and no animals were harmed, or even asked to give up their fluids, in the making of it.
A Victual Ritual
Schwartz's on St. Laurent in Montreal for lunch. I walk in at 11:51 am, and there are plenty of stools open along the lunch counter. I sit down, and in a minute or two the place is packed and lining up.
The usual. Smoked meat sandwich, regular (i.e. level of fat in the meat, you choose lean, regular or extra fat), fries, with a cherry cola from Cott Beverages. It arrives in about 2.5 minutes.
The guy sitting next to me writes for the Gazette on the Habs. He is talking to the waiter about how Huet will start against Buffalo, as he always stones them. I read the same thing in his column the next morning.
The fries are great as usual. The smoked meat is classic - almost corn beef, but not quite. The rye bread so fresh. Even the small sandwich and fries is more than enough. I wonder how I used to eat a small plate and side of fries! This stuff certainly does sit in one's stomach with intense gravity. A good base on which to drink.
The usual. Smoked meat sandwich, regular (i.e. level of fat in the meat, you choose lean, regular or extra fat), fries, with a cherry cola from Cott Beverages. It arrives in about 2.5 minutes.
The guy sitting next to me writes for the Gazette on the Habs. He is talking to the waiter about how Huet will start against Buffalo, as he always stones them. I read the same thing in his column the next morning.
The fries are great as usual. The smoked meat is classic - almost corn beef, but not quite. The rye bread so fresh. Even the small sandwich and fries is more than enough. I wonder how I used to eat a small plate and side of fries! This stuff certainly does sit in one's stomach with intense gravity. A good base on which to drink.
On the Main
An evening out for a quick meal on St. Laurent, we drop into The Main, across the street from Schwartz's, for supper. L has a delicious borscht - I think any soup here would always be great - and follows that with a strange sandwich combo - smoked chicken and liverwurst. I am not sure she knew what she was ordering.
Clank, the vegan, chows down on latkes, no cheese. He is kept mostly quiet by this. I steal some from him (he is blind, so he didn't notice) and they are yummy.
My meal is the Barbecued Rib special of the day. Now you may be old enough to remember the Flintstones original cartoon series. In the intro, while the "Meet the Flintstones" song is playing, Fred and family scoot up to a drive through and he gets a set of ribs, that when hung on the side of the car, cause it to tip over. Remember that? Well, these ribs were almost that big. Done in a honey garlic style, there was a lot of work to scour the meat off the bones, but it sure was worth it. And then you could use the bones to play hurling with.
We passed on the cake, though I think that was a major strategic error, as apparently all the desserts here are handmade at home by the owner's wife. Next time. And there will be one.
Clank, the vegan, chows down on latkes, no cheese. He is kept mostly quiet by this. I steal some from him (he is blind, so he didn't notice) and they are yummy.
My meal is the Barbecued Rib special of the day. Now you may be old enough to remember the Flintstones original cartoon series. In the intro, while the "Meet the Flintstones" song is playing, Fred and family scoot up to a drive through and he gets a set of ribs, that when hung on the side of the car, cause it to tip over. Remember that? Well, these ribs were almost that big. Done in a honey garlic style, there was a lot of work to scour the meat off the bones, but it sure was worth it. And then you could use the bones to play hurling with.
We passed on the cake, though I think that was a major strategic error, as apparently all the desserts here are handmade at home by the owner's wife. Next time. And there will be one.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
How many beers does it take to butter chicken?
Mississauga. If any word ever struck fear in the heart of a Maritimer who likes good urban form, this is it. This is an entire city of Clayton Park West. The mall gone mad, the car king forever, and the pedestrian a forgotten afterthought, no more than the sputum of a parked car.
This is what is coursing through my mind as my buddy Richard manoeuveurs through rush hour traffic from one part of Miss..etc to another. He patiently waits through three cycles of a light before getting through to the privilege of yet another similar wait, to exclaim that the traffic isn't that bad!
We get to where he is going. A place called the West 50 Pourhouse and Grille - I thnk it is named after a mall. But I am sure there are children here named after malls.
We manage to find our way in, after dropping $6 on a flat rate parking scheme/ripoff across the street. Turns out we come in the back door. The front door is from the second floor of a mezzanine off an office building lobby. I like our entrance better.
The blonde, stylish bartender greets us as if we are old friends. I find myself looking behind me. (You don't mean, me, do you?)
The line of taps is impressive. And included among the many many Canadian beer-by-label brands, are a number of great brews. OK, I can stand the place.
The menu is presented (we planned to eat here) and we order. Having seen that just about every single person I saw on the street (pedestrians) was of Indo-asian descent, I cleverly order the Butter Chicken. Richard wisely orders what the bartender tells him to.
I am enjoying my beers. Nothing off, great micro selections, prices not bad.
My $12.95 "butter chicken" arrives. Now I am not sure if anyone in that place has ever seen, tasted, or heard of "butter chicken" outside of the label on a can of commercially pre-done sauce. My "butter chicken" (really, it would be criminal to call it butter chicken without the quotes) is a pre-packaged leg/thigh/side of chicken that has obviously spent a lot of time in a brine packet awaiting consumption. The flesh has turned a cured pink. A (very) slight nod to India is accomplished with a dollop, a sparse one at that, of a commercially packed "butter chicken" sauce.
I am staring at this abomination of cuisine while Richard mows down his beef sandwich and fries thingy. When I try it, it is so salty I can hardly eat it - it burns. BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!!
There is not enough "butter chicken" sauce to get my rice dirty.
We sat at the bar. There were some comfy looking seats and couches that the bartender told us would soon be full with after work types.
It is a darn good thing the bartender was cute, and friendly.
If you are in Mississauga (Lord help you) and you need a good beer (as we all do from time to time) then go here, if you can find it. But don't have great expectations for food. That way, you won't be so disappointed. Or better yet, don't eat.
But oh God, how I wished we were at the Winking Judge. Bill likes me, for some reason. Maybe it was the kegs of beer I brought him from Propeller and the Pumphouse back in 2001?
This is what is coursing through my mind as my buddy Richard manoeuveurs through rush hour traffic from one part of Miss..etc to another. He patiently waits through three cycles of a light before getting through to the privilege of yet another similar wait, to exclaim that the traffic isn't that bad!
We get to where he is going. A place called the West 50 Pourhouse and Grille - I thnk it is named after a mall. But I am sure there are children here named after malls.
We manage to find our way in, after dropping $6 on a flat rate parking scheme/ripoff across the street. Turns out we come in the back door. The front door is from the second floor of a mezzanine off an office building lobby. I like our entrance better.
The blonde, stylish bartender greets us as if we are old friends. I find myself looking behind me. (You don't mean, me, do you?)
The line of taps is impressive. And included among the many many Canadian beer-by-label brands, are a number of great brews. OK, I can stand the place.
The menu is presented (we planned to eat here) and we order. Having seen that just about every single person I saw on the street (pedestrians) was of Indo-asian descent, I cleverly order the Butter Chicken. Richard wisely orders what the bartender tells him to.
I am enjoying my beers. Nothing off, great micro selections, prices not bad.
My $12.95 "butter chicken" arrives. Now I am not sure if anyone in that place has ever seen, tasted, or heard of "butter chicken" outside of the label on a can of commercially pre-done sauce. My "butter chicken" (really, it would be criminal to call it butter chicken without the quotes) is a pre-packaged leg/thigh/side of chicken that has obviously spent a lot of time in a brine packet awaiting consumption. The flesh has turned a cured pink. A (very) slight nod to India is accomplished with a dollop, a sparse one at that, of a commercially packed "butter chicken" sauce.
I am staring at this abomination of cuisine while Richard mows down his beef sandwich and fries thingy. When I try it, it is so salty I can hardly eat it - it burns. BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!!
There is not enough "butter chicken" sauce to get my rice dirty.
We sat at the bar. There were some comfy looking seats and couches that the bartender told us would soon be full with after work types.
It is a darn good thing the bartender was cute, and friendly.
If you are in Mississauga (Lord help you) and you need a good beer (as we all do from time to time) then go here, if you can find it. But don't have great expectations for food. That way, you won't be so disappointed. Or better yet, don't eat.
But oh God, how I wished we were at the Winking Judge. Bill likes me, for some reason. Maybe it was the kegs of beer I brought him from Propeller and the Pumphouse back in 2001?
Montreal - La Popesa
After a drive from Moncton to Montreal, and only a chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwich at a Big Stop to fuel me, I am ready to join L, and her brother and his gal for dinner out on St. Denis. We go to an old favorite, La Popesa, near Ave des Pins on St. Denis on the east side. This place does pretty well any kind of pasta from around the world, and allows you to choose a sauce from a large amount of different suggestions.
I have a Linguini with Beef Stroganoff that is earthy, hearty and hits the spot. Washed down with a bottle of Boreal Rousse, an old standard, once a micro fighting for a chance, now a medium size brewery fighting the upstart micros for its hard won market share. My meal is about $15 all in.
Taking it easy, I call it a night, as the drive tomorrow morning to Trawna looms.
I have a Linguini with Beef Stroganoff that is earthy, hearty and hits the spot. Washed down with a bottle of Boreal Rousse, an old standard, once a micro fighting for a chance, now a medium size brewery fighting the upstart micros for its hard won market share. My meal is about $15 all in.
Taking it easy, I call it a night, as the drive tomorrow morning to Trawna looms.
A Pyramid Scheme
Post Rogues Roost, we have not eaten. The general idea was to go to jane's on the common, but when we arrive it is jammed. So we amble up Cunard to the Pyramid Cafe. Lebanese themes beckon, and we are soon chomping up some very good stuff.
My Foul Madamas(chick peas/beans in a spicey broth) is excellent, though not as good as at Tarboosh. The rest of my meal is very good. J&J are happy with their meals, but one wonders, are they ever unhappy when they are with each other?
The food is good to very good. As we were about the only people there, the service was hard to judge, and concern about their security as a business (this was Friday night, prime time) is also elevated.
I hope they keep up the good food, and perk up the service. Other reports, including one in one of the local papers have commented on the slow service when the place has some people in it.
It is so close to my house, I'll be back.
My Foul Madamas(chick peas/beans in a spicey broth) is excellent, though not as good as at Tarboosh. The rest of my meal is very good. J&J are happy with their meals, but one wonders, are they ever unhappy when they are with each other?
The food is good to very good. As we were about the only people there, the service was hard to judge, and concern about their security as a business (this was Friday night, prime time) is also elevated.
I hope they keep up the good food, and perk up the service. Other reports, including one in one of the local papers have commented on the slow service when the place has some people in it.
It is so close to my house, I'll be back.
Rouge All Over
Not one to limit punishment to myself, I managed to combine my trip back from Freddy (the wine judging) with a stop in Moncton for some work, but then to attend a wine tasting at Rouge Restobar in Moncton.
The bar there is more impressive than that at Onyx.
The talented and beautiful Tammy was our hostess, and Moncton man about wine Bill Vance led a tasting of wines from the portfolio of a reputable agency.
Five wines, blind. I am not sure how, especially after tasting I don't know how many wines the day before, but I managed to identify all of the five in terms of what they were, and where they were from (i.e. Napa Merlot).
Then it was supposed to be over. Rouge was closed on Mondays after all, only open for the special occasion. But it went on. The bar shut down, we stayed. It is all a mess after that.
The bar there is more impressive than that at Onyx.
The talented and beautiful Tammy was our hostess, and Moncton man about wine Bill Vance led a tasting of wines from the portfolio of a reputable agency.
Five wines, blind. I am not sure how, especially after tasting I don't know how many wines the day before, but I managed to identify all of the five in terms of what they were, and where they were from (i.e. Napa Merlot).
Then it was supposed to be over. Rouge was closed on Mondays after all, only open for the special occasion. But it went on. The bar shut down, we stayed. It is all a mess after that.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
2007 - A Wine Odyssey
Once again this year, I was privileged to be one of the invited judges for the World Wine Expo that happens every year in November in Moncton. The wines are submitted by agencies in plenty of time to be judged, medals awarded, and the extra wines ordered for the show to meet the extra demand for those wines created by their winning medals.
Unlike the Nova Scotia "medals" these ones are actually earned in a publically judged, unbiased, blind competition.
There were three judges from Nova Scotia, and the remaining 5 from New Brunswick.
In order to do this work, and trust me, it is work, I have to do something I am not good at. That is, spitting, or as I see it, not drinking, wine that I have put the effort into getting into my mouth. My spitting, unlike some experts, tends to create a partial drool down my chin that I am constantly wiping off, resulting in a slightly darker part of my face from mouth to chin after a while. With red wines, anyway.
I got to judge with a famous NB wine personality - the guy whose picture is on the shelves in the ANBL stores recommending certain wines, with food matches. This competition, again, unlike the Nova Scotia medal designation process, is not run by the government monopoly. Unlike comparably backward Nova Scotia, the ANBL recognizes that the public sector might have some knowledge of wine, and cooperates very effectively with the Canadian Association of Professional Sommeliers. In fact, the two people in the New Brunswick organization who choose wines to list are both CAPS members, fully certified sommeliers, and good ones at that.
After the hard work (I judged and scored 83 wines over 4 hours, I think), we got to see the wines we had scored (medal categories will be done statistically) and we were happy with how we had done, in terms of matching our preferences with published reviews in other places, and general reputations of some of the entrants.
We then sat down to a very good meal of soup, steak and baked potato, from Bruno's, the in-house restaurant at the Fredericton Delta. The soup was great, a creamy buttery mushroom soup capped with a baked on top pasty crust.
Then we drank as many of the wines as we could (you can only pretend to be a sedate, stately judge type for so long, eh?). There were 149 of them and that represented a lot of work! I stopped sometime around 4 am. After all, I had to get up and drive to Moncton in the morning, to do some work during the day, and to attend another wine event there that evening.
There were some good ones left to drink, and the organizer, strategically, allowed us to drink them all, thus conveniently forgetting which wines will probably get gold medals, and keeping them secret for the media launch. But if you are a wine geek, you can make some guesses from what I have written.
Unlike the Nova Scotia "medals" these ones are actually earned in a publically judged, unbiased, blind competition.
There were three judges from Nova Scotia, and the remaining 5 from New Brunswick.
In order to do this work, and trust me, it is work, I have to do something I am not good at. That is, spitting, or as I see it, not drinking, wine that I have put the effort into getting into my mouth. My spitting, unlike some experts, tends to create a partial drool down my chin that I am constantly wiping off, resulting in a slightly darker part of my face from mouth to chin after a while. With red wines, anyway.
I got to judge with a famous NB wine personality - the guy whose picture is on the shelves in the ANBL stores recommending certain wines, with food matches. This competition, again, unlike the Nova Scotia medal designation process, is not run by the government monopoly. Unlike comparably backward Nova Scotia, the ANBL recognizes that the public sector might have some knowledge of wine, and cooperates very effectively with the Canadian Association of Professional Sommeliers. In fact, the two people in the New Brunswick organization who choose wines to list are both CAPS members, fully certified sommeliers, and good ones at that.
After the hard work (I judged and scored 83 wines over 4 hours, I think), we got to see the wines we had scored (medal categories will be done statistically) and we were happy with how we had done, in terms of matching our preferences with published reviews in other places, and general reputations of some of the entrants.
We then sat down to a very good meal of soup, steak and baked potato, from Bruno's, the in-house restaurant at the Fredericton Delta. The soup was great, a creamy buttery mushroom soup capped with a baked on top pasty crust.
Then we drank as many of the wines as we could (you can only pretend to be a sedate, stately judge type for so long, eh?). There were 149 of them and that represented a lot of work! I stopped sometime around 4 am. After all, I had to get up and drive to Moncton in the morning, to do some work during the day, and to attend another wine event there that evening.
There were some good ones left to drink, and the organizer, strategically, allowed us to drink them all, thus conveniently forgetting which wines will probably get gold medals, and keeping them secret for the media launch. But if you are a wine geek, you can make some guesses from what I have written.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Pythagorean Perfection
I wonder how much research went into the naming of Seven Restaurant in Halifax. Apparently it is located on the site of Fire Station 7, but a more superstitious person, especially one of Greek origin, might be very pleased by its numerical significance.
Known as the "perfect number" to the Greeks, one wonders if the owners take comfort from this.
A planned group trip to Lunenburg was altered by the weather, and we ended up going to Seven instead (peoples gotta eat). Of course, this was a party made up mostly of employees of Seven, or past employees. But they were all interested in eating there, as the menu was only a day old, and most had not tried any of the new offerings.
For a first course, I ordered the Spinach Salad, which came with hazlenuts, crumbly goast cheese, and poached pear. I think it was poached in Sambuca, or Pernod, as there was a nice licorice character there.
Discussion was focussed on which of the steaks to order - now they are not new items to the menu - Seven's wood fired grill simply cooks great steak. On the advice of the lovely Tab, I order a rib eye - the same way she does - "chef's choice". I learn that this is the way to order fatty steaks in good restaurants, as the chef can match the cooking with the meat's character, so you get it as it best tastes.
In my case, that was about medium rare (I would normally order rare). It was huge, and I traded a chunk of it to my neighbour for some of his halibut. The steak was not super tender, but it was really tasty, an excellent source of protein for a growing boy! The black pepper they have is great stuff, earthy, and rich, with not too much heat. I had a lot of it on my steak. The course included some baby vegetables, and perogies stuffed with leeks and blue cheese. The perogies were extremely yummy.
The Halibut was the best I have ever tasted, though this is not saying a lot, because I almost never have it. Clean, flakey, and done the way I like fish done (just barely cooked).
Wine with the salad was the Spy Valley Riesling, which was excellent, both as a drink and with the salad. It had some serious petrol notes, in nose and taste, and some pear fruit in addition to the normal riesling grape tastes, and the typical linear acidity. One of the smelly-eye-eh types at the table selected the Stump Jump Red (d'Arenberg) to go with the main course. It showed remarkably well.
One thing I was not quite sure about. It turned out that the young lady sitting across from me, who was not really taking part in the conversation until I kinda drew her out, was the girl friend of one of the servers, actually the manager. When he poured me wine, topping me up, he tended to tap me on the shoulder on the side he was coming in on. And not exactly lightly. I don't recall that technique being used on me before. Then again, maybe he was just swatting me for chatting up his gal?
Dessert arrived - one large plate, with blobs of tasty treats arranged on it in Pythagorean perfection. These included four of those chinese type soup spoons with homemade ice cream on them. One of those was a sour cream ice cream. Now that may not sound promising, but that was the best "new to me" thing I have tasted in a long time. I could have eaten a quart (sorry, litre) of it in about 3 minutes, given the chance.
I got the chance to tell the chef later how much I liked the ice cream. Brad, his name is, I believe. Turns out he made it himself.
Dinner, including wine, tax and tip for one (I had more than two glasses) was about $100. The point of sale system they have is amazing. The server was able to split shared things any number of ways. For example, some of us split a bottle of still water, others, sparkling. My wine share was larger than my neighbour's because I drank more than he did - they can estimate a share on refill count, or whether you take the red or white or both, for example. The servers love it.
Oddly, we were seated with women all on one side, and men on the other side of the table. And although there were eight of us, on this night, the sum of two sides was a perfect Seven.
Known as the "perfect number" to the Greeks, one wonders if the owners take comfort from this.
A planned group trip to Lunenburg was altered by the weather, and we ended up going to Seven instead (peoples gotta eat). Of course, this was a party made up mostly of employees of Seven, or past employees. But they were all interested in eating there, as the menu was only a day old, and most had not tried any of the new offerings.
For a first course, I ordered the Spinach Salad, which came with hazlenuts, crumbly goast cheese, and poached pear. I think it was poached in Sambuca, or Pernod, as there was a nice licorice character there.
Discussion was focussed on which of the steaks to order - now they are not new items to the menu - Seven's wood fired grill simply cooks great steak. On the advice of the lovely Tab, I order a rib eye - the same way she does - "chef's choice". I learn that this is the way to order fatty steaks in good restaurants, as the chef can match the cooking with the meat's character, so you get it as it best tastes.
In my case, that was about medium rare (I would normally order rare). It was huge, and I traded a chunk of it to my neighbour for some of his halibut. The steak was not super tender, but it was really tasty, an excellent source of protein for a growing boy! The black pepper they have is great stuff, earthy, and rich, with not too much heat. I had a lot of it on my steak. The course included some baby vegetables, and perogies stuffed with leeks and blue cheese. The perogies were extremely yummy.
The Halibut was the best I have ever tasted, though this is not saying a lot, because I almost never have it. Clean, flakey, and done the way I like fish done (just barely cooked).
Wine with the salad was the Spy Valley Riesling, which was excellent, both as a drink and with the salad. It had some serious petrol notes, in nose and taste, and some pear fruit in addition to the normal riesling grape tastes, and the typical linear acidity. One of the smelly-eye-eh types at the table selected the Stump Jump Red (d'Arenberg) to go with the main course. It showed remarkably well.
One thing I was not quite sure about. It turned out that the young lady sitting across from me, who was not really taking part in the conversation until I kinda drew her out, was the girl friend of one of the servers, actually the manager. When he poured me wine, topping me up, he tended to tap me on the shoulder on the side he was coming in on. And not exactly lightly. I don't recall that technique being used on me before. Then again, maybe he was just swatting me for chatting up his gal?
Dessert arrived - one large plate, with blobs of tasty treats arranged on it in Pythagorean perfection. These included four of those chinese type soup spoons with homemade ice cream on them. One of those was a sour cream ice cream. Now that may not sound promising, but that was the best "new to me" thing I have tasted in a long time. I could have eaten a quart (sorry, litre) of it in about 3 minutes, given the chance.
I got the chance to tell the chef later how much I liked the ice cream. Brad, his name is, I believe. Turns out he made it himself.
Dinner, including wine, tax and tip for one (I had more than two glasses) was about $100. The point of sale system they have is amazing. The server was able to split shared things any number of ways. For example, some of us split a bottle of still water, others, sparkling. My wine share was larger than my neighbour's because I drank more than he did - they can estimate a share on refill count, or whether you take the red or white or both, for example. The servers love it.
Oddly, we were seated with women all on one side, and men on the other side of the table. And although there were eight of us, on this night, the sum of two sides was a perfect Seven.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Home on the Grange
Wine buddy and former local star chick sommelier A was in town for a brief hello before heading back to winemaking school. We met down at Mosaic for a drink and some snacks, and I had invited some other wine geeks out to say hi, and imbibe.
Not many of them showed. You losers!
One who did show was the co-owner of the place, and A's former employer.
As the party grew in number, we pretty well tasted everything on their tapas style menu. Highlights included the Chevre/Asparagus/Beet salad, the Pork Belly, Steak (from PEI, apparently), Lamb Riblets, Duck with Mushroom Spring Roll, and Tuna Sushimi, but it really was all very good. The shellfish things looked good too. They disappeared pretty fast.
Then up to Seven afterward and, in honour of her visit, the co-owner allowed A to raid the cellar. This resulted in an open bottle of 93 Grange. This wine is $800 a bottle on the list there, and I got an entire glass, so I took my time with it. I think I nursed it for about two hours. The wine was very tight at first, and although the cork was near the end of its life (nearly penetrated to the top on one side) the wine was young, with a lot of primary fruit and good tannins remaining. It probably had 10 more years left on it, if the cork could hang in. In time it opened up, and displayed incredibly deep spicy Shiraz aroma, and a very classy palate that could have been fine French wine.
A local Coca Cola rep was with us, and he started buying weird shooter type things with energy beverages and girlie liqueurs... tasting them between the Grange.... well that was a bit surreal. I examined a 6 oz can of something called Tab. The amount of legalese disclaimer type lingo on it was amazing. It's a wonder I am still alive. Perhaps they now own something of mine and I just don't know it yet.
But back to the wine. Drinking the Grange called to mind a story that Australian winery owner Alan Heath told me about the blocks of vines from whence come the grapes for this wine, and that his block of 100 year old vines had been used on occasion as a source. I looked up over my glass rim, and there, in front of me, was Alan. Displaying his usual larger than life grin, he was offering his hand "How are ya mate!". I was a bit startled at my almost having summoned him to the bar from the other side of the planet, and took more time than I should have before acknowledging the presence of another A lady, right beside me. I shared tiny bits of the wine with them, Alan guessing it to be a Penfolds RWT or something, and A pronouncing it "yummy", as is her wont.
I thanked our host, paid my regards to A who had suddenly taken up smoking, and left, practically sober, at 1 am. Women (customers) were up dancing on the bar. Who would have thought, Thursday night at Seven - dancing girls! Free!
A was having a great time on her visit back to Halifax, thanks mostly to C. In fact, I am sure I saw her up on the bar for a few seconds.
Not many of them showed. You losers!
One who did show was the co-owner of the place, and A's former employer.
As the party grew in number, we pretty well tasted everything on their tapas style menu. Highlights included the Chevre/Asparagus/Beet salad, the Pork Belly, Steak (from PEI, apparently), Lamb Riblets, Duck with Mushroom Spring Roll, and Tuna Sushimi, but it really was all very good. The shellfish things looked good too. They disappeared pretty fast.
Then up to Seven afterward and, in honour of her visit, the co-owner allowed A to raid the cellar. This resulted in an open bottle of 93 Grange. This wine is $800 a bottle on the list there, and I got an entire glass, so I took my time with it. I think I nursed it for about two hours. The wine was very tight at first, and although the cork was near the end of its life (nearly penetrated to the top on one side) the wine was young, with a lot of primary fruit and good tannins remaining. It probably had 10 more years left on it, if the cork could hang in. In time it opened up, and displayed incredibly deep spicy Shiraz aroma, and a very classy palate that could have been fine French wine.
A local Coca Cola rep was with us, and he started buying weird shooter type things with energy beverages and girlie liqueurs... tasting them between the Grange.... well that was a bit surreal. I examined a 6 oz can of something called Tab. The amount of legalese disclaimer type lingo on it was amazing. It's a wonder I am still alive. Perhaps they now own something of mine and I just don't know it yet.
But back to the wine. Drinking the Grange called to mind a story that Australian winery owner Alan Heath told me about the blocks of vines from whence come the grapes for this wine, and that his block of 100 year old vines had been used on occasion as a source. I looked up over my glass rim, and there, in front of me, was Alan. Displaying his usual larger than life grin, he was offering his hand "How are ya mate!". I was a bit startled at my almost having summoned him to the bar from the other side of the planet, and took more time than I should have before acknowledging the presence of another A lady, right beside me. I shared tiny bits of the wine with them, Alan guessing it to be a Penfolds RWT or something, and A pronouncing it "yummy", as is her wont.
I thanked our host, paid my regards to A who had suddenly taken up smoking, and left, practically sober, at 1 am. Women (customers) were up dancing on the bar. Who would have thought, Thursday night at Seven - dancing girls! Free!
A was having a great time on her visit back to Halifax, thanks mostly to C. In fact, I am sure I saw her up on the bar for a few seconds.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
More March Madness
This post may be a bit wine-geek oriented, but I can't help to point out yet another illogical move on the part of our beloved NSLC. I downloaded and read their marketing plan and focus for the wine category. You know, I could swear I recall reading that Argentina was to be a country of origin that was to be featured this year.
Now, when anyone who knows wine considers Argentina, one of, if not the first name that stands out is Catena Zapata. Nicolas Catena, and his daughter Laura, make the best wines at just about every price point, and style in the country. That's not me talking, that's pretty well a summary of the international wine press. Yes, there are others, but there is no argument as to the Catenas' position. First rate on quality and on value.
So I find out recently that our beloved NSLC turned down the Catena Zapata line of product when it was offered to them. This can only represent one of three things.
1. Ignorance of their own strategy (so why have one?);
2. Incompetence in the assessment of the category;
3. Indications of the presence of some form of industry kickback, or extortion the agency/company was unable, or unwilling to pay; or
4. A combination of the above.
For the non wine crowd, this would be like saying you are going out to buy pizza, and driving past the best joints in town to get a Pizza Joe Delight special. The Argentinian wines available here are, for the most part, from the big government run conglomerate called Penaflor (Trapiche), which is like PetroCanada for wine in Argentina. They have lots of cash to buy shelf space at our Shoppers Drug Mart style Liquor Corp. And pay for trips for the non wine expert CAO to travel the world. The independent producers get squeezed out.
Now, when anyone who knows wine considers Argentina, one of, if not the first name that stands out is Catena Zapata. Nicolas Catena, and his daughter Laura, make the best wines at just about every price point, and style in the country. That's not me talking, that's pretty well a summary of the international wine press. Yes, there are others, but there is no argument as to the Catenas' position. First rate on quality and on value.
So I find out recently that our beloved NSLC turned down the Catena Zapata line of product when it was offered to them. This can only represent one of three things.
1. Ignorance of their own strategy (so why have one?);
2. Incompetence in the assessment of the category;
3. Indications of the presence of some form of industry kickback, or extortion the agency/company was unable, or unwilling to pay; or
4. A combination of the above.
For the non wine crowd, this would be like saying you are going out to buy pizza, and driving past the best joints in town to get a Pizza Joe Delight special. The Argentinian wines available here are, for the most part, from the big government run conglomerate called Penaflor (Trapiche), which is like PetroCanada for wine in Argentina. They have lots of cash to buy shelf space at our Shoppers Drug Mart style Liquor Corp. And pay for trips for the non wine expert CAO to travel the world. The independent producers get squeezed out.
Getting her Goat
Lunch at Rani's Curry & Roti Stop on Green Street, I order the Jerk Beef and Roti but no beef today - not that the chicken is so bad. L orders curried goat with a rice and beans dish on the side, and some fried plantain for dessert.
My roti arrives without rice, but L has far to much for just her (that's my story) and I steal some. The side of hot sauce is the real deal - dip a fork in it and use the residual on the tines, that will be enough to start. The food is delicious, and a banana flavoured Snapple, and some Mango juice (bottled in the UAE??) make fine accompaniment.
L enjoys her lunch, and I paid, so I guess I did get her goat!
My roti arrives without rice, but L has far to much for just her (that's my story) and I steal some. The side of hot sauce is the real deal - dip a fork in it and use the residual on the tines, that will be enough to start. The food is delicious, and a banana flavoured Snapple, and some Mango juice (bottled in the UAE??) make fine accompaniment.
L enjoys her lunch, and I paid, so I guess I did get her goat!
Monday, March 12, 2007
When the world arrives....
When the word arrives at your door, what do you do?
I started writing this blog for myself and some friends who tend to rely on me for wine and food recommendations.
But now, "other" people are reading it.
I installed Google's Analytics package and it tells me how many, and roughly where they are.
It is more than I suspected.
I can take it quiet, take the blog off "public", so you have to know the address to go to it, or I can leave it as is.
Now this is not that anonymous - anyone who can use Google can figure out who I am pretty quickly. Someone who can use Google and knows the ways of the net can figure out just about any handle. But the idea of taking a semi private thing, and acknowledging it as public, is a big step.
I am going to think about it.
What do you think? There is a way to comment below.
I started writing this blog for myself and some friends who tend to rely on me for wine and food recommendations.
But now, "other" people are reading it.
I installed Google's Analytics package and it tells me how many, and roughly where they are.
It is more than I suspected.
I can take it quiet, take the blog off "public", so you have to know the address to go to it, or I can leave it as is.
Now this is not that anonymous - anyone who can use Google can figure out who I am pretty quickly. Someone who can use Google and knows the ways of the net can figure out just about any handle. But the idea of taking a semi private thing, and acknowledging it as public, is a big step.
I am going to think about it.
What do you think? There is a way to comment below.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Road Trip - Fishless Fish Cakes, and Glenfiddich forced down our throats...
I manage to weasel a free spot on a Valley Wine Tours van trip to "A Wee Dram" a Glenfiddich marketing event in Pictou NS, the place from whence many Scots once fled to New Zealand many years ago.
After failing miserably to identify many of the scents from the scent kit game they play on the Valley Wine Tours trips, I am in a mood to eat lunch when we arrive, around 1:00 PM.
A new place beckons with a street board sign - The Old Post Office Pub. OK, let's do this. Down the granite stairs into the basement and what sure looks like it was a Post Office (it was). Beautiful restored stonework, although blighted by our modern fixation with fire suppression and the obligatory sprinkler lines, the place looks new. It turns out to have been open only a month.
My spirit is lifted on seeing three draft taps, two with no tap handle, but one remaining showing Granite Ringwood Ale! But alas, they have no draft beer left (they really are new to the business) and have violated the ancient code of never leaving a handle on a tap that cannot offer beer. Needless to say, I am bummed.
We are seated together in what looks to have been a vault at one time, but now has a gas fireplace, and is very well appointed. I am expecting a full suit of armour to appear in the corner, and talk at the table is of secret passageways.
I order a glass of Jost Eagle Tree, and later change it to Acadie Chardonnay and the ET only has one glass left in it. But they get points for serving local wines, and all by the glass. Unfortunately, my wine arrives in a state that shows it to have been opened for some time. I should have sent it back, but they were trying so hard....
Food around the table (we are 8) includes Guinness Pie, Fish Cakes, Veggie Curry, and Onion Soup and Chowder. The consensus of that it is quite good. Our fish cakes are nice, but neither of us can find very much fish in there. More like potato cakes with a hint of fish. Oh, the carrots served as a side vegetable were awesome, I think maybe stir fried in honey?
I think this place has a chance to become one of Nova Scotia's great pubs, but they need to have someone who understands pubs help with glassware selection (cut crystal in a pub?), pour size (they were overserving the wine, which we can't complain about, but won't help them in the long run) and keeping beer in stock.
The washrooms were amazing - like those at Seven, or Il Mercato in Halifax, with real individual hand towels like in hotel washrooms. Nice, but perhaps out of place in a pub. This was not fine dining at all, good pub food, so they need to focus on being a great pub. That does not come from great glassware or hand towels -it comes from atmosphere, which they have a start on, great beer, which they seem to know is important, but you have to have it to sell it; and patrons - who will come if you provide the first two.
Then, across the street at the DeCoste Centre....
We are in town to attend "A Wee Dram", an event put on by the DeCoste performance centre as a fundraiser, with Peter Mielzenski Agencies, the Agent for Glenfiddich in Atlantic Canada, bringing in Ian Miller, Chief Brand Ambassador of the Glenfiddich distillery in Scotland.
The event was billed as a talk about Scotch whisky, the latest trends and the proper nosing and tasting techniques, but it really was a very well planned, and practiced marketing presentation for Glenfiddich, as they apparently pursue a strategy to up-sell their single malt line. This is similar to the current marketing strategy under way at our own beloved NSLC, which I cynically (me, a cynic?) describe as trying to get all the guys I grew up with to acquire my drinking tastes. That is, in this case, the aim was to get people who currently buy the basic Glenfiddich, or cheaper blends, to choose the more expensive (and superior) 15 Year Old Solera product from this distillery giant.
Miller reviewed an impressive 30 years’ experience in Scotch whisky, at almost all arts of the whisky making process, including time spent at Bladnoch, Mortlach, Blair Athol, Dalwhinnie, Linkwood and Glen Elgin Distilleries in Scotland before joining William Grant & Sons/Glenfiddisch/Balvenie/Kinnivie, as well as a stint in Holland with brewing giant Heineken.
The man clearly knew his stuff, and just as clearly knew the program he was assigned to promote. His presentation could be "distilled" as:
1. Single Malts are the best distilled product.
2. The 15 year old Solera Glenfiddich is the one to buy.
3. Scotch is for drinking, not keeping.
4. He is always right.
I thought he was also expert at skirting a question that might make it look as though Grant's made blends, or that a blend was worth buying, that there were independent bottlers, that unfiltered whisky might be better than chill filtered, and that Nova Scotia's Glen Breton Canadian Malt Whisky was any better than Chinese rice liquor used to counterfeit Johnny Walker.
On the last, as long as we have to continue sending gaelic teachers, stepdance teachers, and fiddle teachers back to Scotland to help them relearn their lost culture, they can go to hell about thinking that the Scots, who had to leave Scotland, are less entitled to call a valley a Glen, a stream a Burn, or name their product after a place name or word in common use in their culture.
Heck the lead singer of the biggest Scottish rock band (Runrig) is none other than Cape Breton's own king of self love, Bruce Gouthro.
But he was funny at times, and did bring some 30 year old stuff for us to taste, so we'll let him live.
After failing miserably to identify many of the scents from the scent kit game they play on the Valley Wine Tours trips, I am in a mood to eat lunch when we arrive, around 1:00 PM.
A new place beckons with a street board sign - The Old Post Office Pub. OK, let's do this. Down the granite stairs into the basement and what sure looks like it was a Post Office (it was). Beautiful restored stonework, although blighted by our modern fixation with fire suppression and the obligatory sprinkler lines, the place looks new. It turns out to have been open only a month.
My spirit is lifted on seeing three draft taps, two with no tap handle, but one remaining showing Granite Ringwood Ale! But alas, they have no draft beer left (they really are new to the business) and have violated the ancient code of never leaving a handle on a tap that cannot offer beer. Needless to say, I am bummed.
We are seated together in what looks to have been a vault at one time, but now has a gas fireplace, and is very well appointed. I am expecting a full suit of armour to appear in the corner, and talk at the table is of secret passageways.
I order a glass of Jost Eagle Tree, and later change it to Acadie Chardonnay and the ET only has one glass left in it. But they get points for serving local wines, and all by the glass. Unfortunately, my wine arrives in a state that shows it to have been opened for some time. I should have sent it back, but they were trying so hard....
Food around the table (we are 8) includes Guinness Pie, Fish Cakes, Veggie Curry, and Onion Soup and Chowder. The consensus of that it is quite good. Our fish cakes are nice, but neither of us can find very much fish in there. More like potato cakes with a hint of fish. Oh, the carrots served as a side vegetable were awesome, I think maybe stir fried in honey?
I think this place has a chance to become one of Nova Scotia's great pubs, but they need to have someone who understands pubs help with glassware selection (cut crystal in a pub?), pour size (they were overserving the wine, which we can't complain about, but won't help them in the long run) and keeping beer in stock.
The washrooms were amazing - like those at Seven, or Il Mercato in Halifax, with real individual hand towels like in hotel washrooms. Nice, but perhaps out of place in a pub. This was not fine dining at all, good pub food, so they need to focus on being a great pub. That does not come from great glassware or hand towels -it comes from atmosphere, which they have a start on, great beer, which they seem to know is important, but you have to have it to sell it; and patrons - who will come if you provide the first two.
Then, across the street at the DeCoste Centre....
We are in town to attend "A Wee Dram", an event put on by the DeCoste performance centre as a fundraiser, with Peter Mielzenski Agencies, the Agent for Glenfiddich in Atlantic Canada, bringing in Ian Miller, Chief Brand Ambassador of the Glenfiddich distillery in Scotland.
The event was billed as a talk about Scotch whisky, the latest trends and the proper nosing and tasting techniques, but it really was a very well planned, and practiced marketing presentation for Glenfiddich, as they apparently pursue a strategy to up-sell their single malt line. This is similar to the current marketing strategy under way at our own beloved NSLC, which I cynically (me, a cynic?) describe as trying to get all the guys I grew up with to acquire my drinking tastes. That is, in this case, the aim was to get people who currently buy the basic Glenfiddich, or cheaper blends, to choose the more expensive (and superior) 15 Year Old Solera product from this distillery giant.
Miller reviewed an impressive 30 years’ experience in Scotch whisky, at almost all arts of the whisky making process, including time spent at Bladnoch, Mortlach, Blair Athol, Dalwhinnie, Linkwood and Glen Elgin Distilleries in Scotland before joining William Grant & Sons/Glenfiddisch/Balvenie/Kinnivie, as well as a stint in Holland with brewing giant Heineken.
The man clearly knew his stuff, and just as clearly knew the program he was assigned to promote. His presentation could be "distilled" as:
1. Single Malts are the best distilled product.
2. The 15 year old Solera Glenfiddich is the one to buy.
3. Scotch is for drinking, not keeping.
4. He is always right.
I thought he was also expert at skirting a question that might make it look as though Grant's made blends, or that a blend was worth buying, that there were independent bottlers, that unfiltered whisky might be better than chill filtered, and that Nova Scotia's Glen Breton Canadian Malt Whisky was any better than Chinese rice liquor used to counterfeit Johnny Walker.
On the last, as long as we have to continue sending gaelic teachers, stepdance teachers, and fiddle teachers back to Scotland to help them relearn their lost culture, they can go to hell about thinking that the Scots, who had to leave Scotland, are less entitled to call a valley a Glen, a stream a Burn, or name their product after a place name or word in common use in their culture.
Heck the lead singer of the biggest Scottish rock band (Runrig) is none other than Cape Breton's own king of self love, Bruce Gouthro.
But he was funny at times, and did bring some 30 year old stuff for us to taste, so we'll let him live.
Johnny's - The Breakfast
After our pleasant trip to Johnny's Snack Bar earlier in the week for supper, I propose a morning hike over to have breakfast.
A brisk morning walk is just the thing to revive the near dead, and as long as there is coffee waiting at the end, the 10 minute walk is great.
We get the booth by the window, and I make sure L gets the side with no-one behind her to jostle her with the shared seat back.
Coffee comes, served by what may be the son of the owners. He is great, on the ball, and definitely more awake than us.
I order a cheese omelet and ask for homefries, ready to pay the extra for them - "Oh, no," he says, "they come with the breakfasts!" Things are looking up. L orders sausage and eggs (what is up with the sausages, that's twice she has ordered them here?).
The food comes right away, in about 5 minutes. The home fries are fabulous. Real potato, hand cut into dollar size, or bigger, slices and fried dark golden brown. Cooked through, and hot. My omelet, almost predictably, uses processed cheese. This parallels my dinner experience, where I had from-scratch fried chicken, but was served frozen french fries. It is like they do some things the old way, but some of the newer, less authentic foods, and shortcuts are creeping into their menu. If there had been real cheddar in that omelet....
I steal one of L's sausages (hey, they served her, 6 or so)and I get a glimpse of why she ordered them again. They are browned and crispy on the outside, but normal sausage meat inside. It is a fine eating experience to bite through that crispy case into the tasty filing inside. The coffee is as good as diner coffee gets, and the refills keep coming. L's eggs are done as she asked, the toast is whole wheat, and the cost, well, less than $10 for the two of us. What more can you ask?
I just wish I had a camera to show you those home fries.
A brisk morning walk is just the thing to revive the near dead, and as long as there is coffee waiting at the end, the 10 minute walk is great.
We get the booth by the window, and I make sure L gets the side with no-one behind her to jostle her with the shared seat back.
Coffee comes, served by what may be the son of the owners. He is great, on the ball, and definitely more awake than us.
I order a cheese omelet and ask for homefries, ready to pay the extra for them - "Oh, no," he says, "they come with the breakfasts!" Things are looking up. L orders sausage and eggs (what is up with the sausages, that's twice she has ordered them here?).
The food comes right away, in about 5 minutes. The home fries are fabulous. Real potato, hand cut into dollar size, or bigger, slices and fried dark golden brown. Cooked through, and hot. My omelet, almost predictably, uses processed cheese. This parallels my dinner experience, where I had from-scratch fried chicken, but was served frozen french fries. It is like they do some things the old way, but some of the newer, less authentic foods, and shortcuts are creeping into their menu. If there had been real cheddar in that omelet....
I steal one of L's sausages (hey, they served her, 6 or so)and I get a glimpse of why she ordered them again. They are browned and crispy on the outside, but normal sausage meat inside. It is a fine eating experience to bite through that crispy case into the tasty filing inside. The coffee is as good as diner coffee gets, and the refills keep coming. L's eggs are done as she asked, the toast is whole wheat, and the cost, well, less than $10 for the two of us. What more can you ask?
I just wish I had a camera to show you those home fries.
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