Wine Outlook

Today is my first day back to work since last Saturday. I’ve been in Mississippi with my family for a belated Christmas celebration. And of course, I couldn’t return without wine, especially Rosenblum Cellars wine. For our “Christmas dinner” which actually took place New Year’s Eve, I chose the Mourvedre I had also picked for a Thanksgiving meal, as we had many of the same items: turkey, cranberry salad, dressing, broccoli rice casserole, sweet potatoes, etc. The Mourvedre went especially nicely with the turkey–which was fried, the sweet potatoes, and the salad. I also brought my favorite: the 2005 Hendry Zinfandel, just for sipping. Everyone really liked that one, too. And for presents, my chocolate-lovin Mom got the Desiree, and my stepdad–who loves big reds–got the 2005 Rockpile Road Zinfandel.

It’s fun to share the wines I love and pour everyday, write about, and sell … with the people who love me back home.

Rosenblum wine in Mississippi, Christmas dinner wine pairing

The best friend just put up a trailer for her project Mississippi Queen, that indie documentary about issues such as the ex-gay ministry in the south. I’m honored to say she asked to use one of my poems, which I’ve referred to on here before: Return Flight. It’s pretty amazing to hear my own words read and visualized through images in film.

p.s. They still need funding, so check out the website and donate to a great cause!

Mississippi Queen

Here’s a link to my last column in the Jackson Free Press, which addresses issues with wine shipping laws. Living in California now, it’s easy to take it for granted. But some states do not allow direct shipping, leading to great disappointment, let me tell you.

If you read it, I’m adding the original conclusion below. (My piece must have been too long.) (more…)

Here’s a link to my Jackson Free Press piece about tonight’s wine festival. It didn’t make it to print due to Frank Melton’s antics and Earth Day.

Sante South, Mississippi wine event

If you’re in or around Jackson, Mississippi, have I got news for you. This Saturday evening brings the wine event of the year: Sante South Wine Festival. Over 30 wineries will pour over a 100 wines, with a dozen local restaurants providing delectable treats.The center courtyard of Highland Village, a quaint outdoor mall, provides the perfect setting with its cobbled walkways, fountains, benches, flowers & trees, and scattered artwork.

Back story: when I attended the first one two years ago, I had just returned to the Jackson area with plans for finding a wine job. Thinking this festival would be a great opportunity to meet people in the industry, I did a little research on each winery being represented (and even had index cards with notes). However, a combination of my being shy and enjoying the wine a bit too much–this was before I began to spit–didn’t exactly lead to any offers. At the time, it didn’t matter. That was the first time I hung out with the sommelier, who is now one of my dearest friends. We bonded afterwards over the Guntrum “Yellow Fantasy” and rosemary & honey glazed chicken at Julep, right around the corner. Not that we needed any more wine, or food, at that point. (more…)

Jackson, Mississippi, Sante South, Wine Festival

Last night we watched the season finale of the L word, which was recheduled due to my party. (What an amazing group, huh?) We usually viewed it the night it airs–Sunday–which meant I always rushed from the tasting room into the city. This time, however, I got a turn at cooking dinner, hopefully backing up my promise of culinary skills.

Deciding to forego fancy and a chance at making a great wine pairing, I opted to go for some down-home cooking. Fried chicken. A combo of collards and mustard greens cooked in what we back home call ‘pot likker.’ Skillet cornbread, which I insisted everyone dip into the pot liquor. And my mama’s potato salad, which because I use a touch of Blue Plate (the best mayonnaise in the world, which sadly is not sold here) is a little better than hers. Oh, and of course, some sweet tea with mint.

Now, I tried to get someone to bring the champagne of beers, Miller High Life, but no one took me up on my suggestion. Although we did eat, in addition to stewed apples and yummy custard (cause there’s never too much dessert), some long-promised wine cake, and it certainly lived up to its reputation. I even correctly guessed the wine used was Chardonnay.

No need to be sad the show is over, we’ve already got plans to watch The Tudors. As usual, I’ll bring the wine.

Southern comfort food, Blue Plate Mayonnaise, Miller High Life

….Farley Walker

Warning: this post is weak on wine, heavy on homesick.

A while back, I made my mom’s salmon croquettes and my stepdad’s recipe for mac and cheese. If I recall, I had some Giesen Sauvignon Blanc with it, though I really wanted some Pinot Noir. (Not willing to open one of the few in my collection because I only wanted one glass and would have wasted the rest of the bottle). So, why even bring this up? While I was folding clothes this morning, I caught a few minutes of Paula’s Home Cooking. She was frying up some okra, and I remembered how, when I was little, my mom once told me it was just like popcorn. I tried and hated it.

But today I wish I could have her cook me some. I might even like them. Hell, I used to hate squash, mushrooms, avocado, artichokes, and bell peppers. Now I like, and in some cases, love them:cooked with onions, on pizza, on BLT’s, by themselves, and as a garnish.

Now that I’m riding this train of thought, my warning may have been too hasty.

Because the same thing goes for wine. For the longest time, I could not take more than a tiny sip of Port. But once at a friend’s birthday dinner, I gave the Warre’s Otima another chance and discovered its caramel, pecan beauty. (Oh yeah, I used to hate nuts, too.) Tastebuds and preferences change. You may not like something the first or even fifth time you try it. Then one day some overly-zealous friend insists you will love this specific Riesling even though you claim to hate them all. Suddenly, sunlight breaks through the clouds and you can see. And a whole new world opens up for you.

So, while I started out sad about missing my family and southern cooking, I’m ending on a happy note. I used to be a scared, picky eater. Now, I’m scared to let new opportunities pass me by without trying them at least once.

The moral of this story? I think you’ve probably got it, so get to drinking!

picky eaters, food adventures, changing tastebuds

….Farley Walker

As I mentioned briefly before, I wrote a wine column for the Jackson Free Press. After my trip back home, I contacted one of the editors to see if he’d want my newly up-close perspective, only to find that he’d tried to get in touch with me.

The column is actually a combo of my first and third versions. Unfortunately, I found out I couldn’t write about Fogarty wines, which, thank god, isn’t the case here. I was only going to do it for the first piece because
A) it fit nicely into my story of the wine journey out here and
B) I had become a fan of Fogarty wines back home, where they are readily available.

Apparently, MS is one of our best out-of-state markets.

The next one will be due in a week or so; therefore, I’m asking you–readers and drinkers– southern or otherwise, for idea suggestions…

wine column, Jackson Free Press

Gotta give some more love to my old stomping grounds:

Hot news from the Jackson Free Press:

Best Wine Selection: Bravo! 4500 I-55 N. # 244, 601-982-8111
Getting wine in Mississippi is a real pain in the neck compared to most places—chalk it up to being the last state to give up on prohibition. But you would never know it from the list at Bravo!. Their Cabernets, for instance, take up an entire page, and range in price from $20 to $300. There are incredible bargains for a frugal fellow like myself, but there are also astounding treasures for those with more scratch on hand. I know Jesus doesn’t want us to rob banks, but that 1989 vintage Krug Champagne is really calling out to me, Lord! Until then, it’s Castle Rock Pinot Noir for $25. — Brian Johnson

Second: Nick’s (1501 Lakeland Drive, 601-981-8017) / Third: Julep (1305 East Northside Drive #105, 601-362-1411); Char (4500 I-55 N. #142, 601-956-9562) / Shapley’s (868 Centre St., Ridgeland, 601-957-3753)
——-
And to old friends: (more…)

January 19, 2006: One year ago today, I pulled off the 101 and into Redwood City, California. I was ready to kiss the ground after driving a U-Haul for four days, car in tow, across deserts, over mountains, and through canyons. Though I only barely knew two people at the winery and sure didn’t know where I was going to live or even stay, I was willing to give it a go because I did know I wanted to be in the wine business. Therefore, things would work out, somehow.

But four days alone, driving, can make you feel a little crazy and think maybe you made a mistake. I wrote the following a couple months after I got here, looking back:

Road Signs and Other Blunders

Mississippi left behind to hover
on a state line of relief and regret.
U-Haul decals warned of overhead
damage too late and unleaded fuel.
Following their advice
meant repeated stops to pump and
watch the numbers climb. The side mirror
disclosed concern at going
over 45, but traveling the sometimes-
blood-stained highway
through George W’s home
state, miles passed slowly enough.

Halfway between what was home and what
would be, the Rio Grande was parched
as a tongue in need of wine. Further still,
the border patrol overlooked advisement
of dust that never settles. Some signs
indicated the proximity of state prisons
and counseled against collecting hitchhikers.
Not that there was room.

Pulling into California–
as high-windedness (to be
avoided in writing and speech)
prevailed–
proved more intro than climax .
—————
(more…)

Silent prayers were present as I unpacked my suitcase. I was concerned about the condition of a few art pieces I bought from The Attic Gallery in Vicksburg, MS, including a painting that I had to take home because it’s plagued my thoughts since I first saw it. I wrapped and taped the pieces in bubble wrap and put them in a box, surrounded by clothes and other items.

Also inside the box was the bottle of 96 Ridge Monte Bello. The sommelier and I decided it probably wasn’t ready yet, even though splits age faster than 750 ml bottles. We figured the vision of drinking that highly-regarded concoction would be incentive for us to stay friends for a few more years. The thing is, though—it made perfect sense to pack the bottle among wood, ceramic, and stone. Because wine is art, too. Just as an artist chooses the canvas, the colors, the brushstrokes, a winemaker chooses style, oak or steel, how much Merlot and how much Petit Verdot.

You can collect both and spend on either a range from very little to insanely high. At least with the art, I don’t have to rely so much on my memory, as it will still be there. Maybe that’s why I started seeking it out more. But don’t worry. It’s in addition to wine, not in replacement. I can get over drinking some of my investments.

wine collecting, art, 96 Ridge Monte Bello

….Farley Walker

Well, I touched down in California earlier tonight. While it was sadness earlier today about the prospect of missing family, friends, and the way of life that is the south–it was a little relief/eagerness/determination getting off the plane. When people would ask me about the possibility of coming back, my answer had to be not any time soon.

I’ve gotten used to being in the vicinity of winemaking, tastings, releases, competitions, early-morning barrel samples, newsletter articles, whatever might be going on this week. This month will make one year living out here, which means I’ve seen the vines at all stages: dormant, bud break, growth, veraison, and nothing left but the leaves and a few missed grapes here and there.
All around me are Santa Cruz Mountains wineries and other regions within 2 or 3 hours, and now that I have a more reliable car, I plan to check out more.

Although I do need more experiences like this one, so I might try to join or start a tasting group to make my wine atmosphere more complete.

wine tasting, working in wine country

I just pulled tasting notes from dinner a few nights ago out of my purse. A little worse for wear, with water stains, drops of wine, and what looks to be a bit of sauce, but at least they’re readable. The whole experience was one of the best I’ve had all year, winewise and otherwise, so I thought I’d share the reviews and assessments.

The sommelier and I met up at Bravo, where she works and I once did, for dinner with two other friends. After much discussion (i.e. pouring over the 400-bottle wine list), we decided to begin with the 1994 Domaine Zind Humbrecht ‘clos hauserer’ Riesling from Alsace. It was one of those situations that makes the search worthwhile. You read about older Rieslings giving off the aroma of petrol, but until you have the chance to drink one, you’re not really sure how it works. As soon as I put my nose in the glass, there it was—a lightbulb went off. On the palate were spritzy flowers, slightly sweet in the middle, and crisp on the finish. Fantastic pairing with the rosemary-infused mushrooms over crispy polenta.
(more…)

1994 Domaine Zind Humbrecht ‘clos hauserer’ Riesling

Growing up and then into my early adulthood, I never really talked about myself that much, or at least I don’t think I did. Over the past few years, though, something has happened to change that, and that something is wine. The effects are twofold. One, as many people may find to be true, is that when I drink it, I open up more and get chattier than normal. The other is that when people ask me about wine, I can talk and talk. Keep asking questions, I’ll keep answering them (or try to anyway).

Since I’ve been home, I’ve talked more than a few ears off. One evening my family (parents, grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousin, brother) sat through a practice for my food-and wine tv show, as I made dinner and discussed the perfect pairings while my brother, the aspiring director, filmed everything. Such good sports.

I did the same thing over at the sommelier’s the other night. Too bad for her partner, whose not nearly as into wine as we are. Then a good friend offered to drive me to Hattiesburg, in southeast MS, where I went to grad school. Not only did she endure the two-hour drive, but upon arrival, we went to see another friend who’s a sommelier. (more…)

After plowing through the nearby grocery store, me and the sommelier headed over to her apartment to cook, drink, and catch up, not necessarily in that order.

The first victim was Champagne—a ’98 Duval Leroy Blanc de Chardonnay. Delightfully dry and crisp, it went beautifully with my olive dip and went into the champagne vinaigrette I was making for the salad of pink grapefruit, avocado, and goat cheese.

Now, had there been any left by the time we ate (the two of us never could have dinner on the table before 10), it would have been a perfect pairing. Unlike the Cook’s that I opened to see how it might have been. Yes, Cook’s, even though there was Sauv Blanc in the fridge. (more…)