I had my first tintilla experience the other day.  Tintilla, you say? Why yes…tintilla.

I think I just like saying tintilla….

It is an indigenous grape to the Canary Islands and is the star of the show in this bottling from Tenerife- the 2007 tintilla from Vinatigo, a Jose Pastor Selection. It was my first time tasting wines from the Canary Islands and I am very intrigued and ready to go back for more.  Here is a link to a post from Alice Feiring about her recent CI tasting experience.

Also take a look at my dear friend  and London wine presenter Christina’s recent post on her visit to the Canary Islands (jealous. Why can’t I have a husband that gets to travel for a living and take me with him?)

Hello. My name is Whitney.

And I watch The Bachelorette.

[shame. embarassment. guilt.]

Yes, it’s true people. I watch it. It gives me joy! Joy, I tell you. Why should I be ashamed of something that leaves me with such pure exhilaration and excitement each and every week? I know one other person that is just as obsessed with this season of The Bachelorette as I am. And her name is… Joy.  We usually text back and forth many, many (too many) times while both watching the episodes. She is actually dedicating a blog post to our Bachelorette viewing. So, we both watched it tonight and Skyped all our commentary from our respective couches like big nerds.

my Bachelorette watching snuggle buddy Willy

OK- so I thought I would dedicate a blog post to it as well. Only I would pair a wine with each of the final 3 dudes left. Because that is totally something I would do.

The Final 3 are…..

Roberto

OK… this guys oozes sex. And I’m pretty sure that is all Ali wants him for in the end. He’s a former pro baseball-er and from Florida. And he salsa dances…and speaks fluent Spanish. The dude is suave.  And, uh- he’s hot.

Pairing- Rioja. One that has a tiny bit too much American oak on it. Smells of leather (baseball mit) and coconut (Florida suntan.)

Frank

Big. fat. loser. I am so over him…especially after the crap he pulled on tonight’s episode. He’s from Chicago and working in retail while he lives with his parents to be able to live the dream of being a screenwriter. And now he’s leaving the show to go be with his ex who is just as annoying as him. Snoozefest.

Pairing- something that is a bit fashionable. But annoyingly so. I would say an Austrian gruner vetliner that’s organic and with a label printed with soy based inks… and tears.

Chris

Oh Chris….how I love thee, let me count the ways. He’s from Cape Cod, a landscaper and a sweetheart. Yes, he stumbles with his words sometimes but, he’s All-American handsome and a family man. And would be, like, the husband of your dreams Ali- wake up!

Pairing: It’s gonna have to be domestic. A California red that’s timeless and classic but easy and not fussy. One that will never do you wrong. And is made by a family. A pinot…no, a syrah (perhaps by Saarloos & Sons.)

OK- Bachelorette blogging now ends. I promise.

I drink rosé all. summer. long. It is borderline obsessive and possibly a problem. So, Suzy is a girl after my own heart.

The fact that her favorite summer sipper is charmingly referred to as “blush”, made near her house in Georgia and is called “Cherokee Rose”….I had to pick Suzy.

Mr. Monkey- you’ll find a good home down South with Miss Suzy.

Go on now Mr. Monkey. Get in the box and fly off to Georgia. It’ll be a better life for you. Go on now…I can make it on my own…

[tear]

Suzy- email drinkmorevino@gmail.com with your address!

I have a friend. Her name is Logan Tracey. And she’s kind of fabulous.

She just spent some time living it up in Paris (and Ireland) and she wanted to share her eats and drinks on Brunellos. I’m proud to have her be my first ever guest blogger! Take it away Logs…..

—-

I have the great fortune to be friends with this here blogger, Ms. Whitney (how lucky for me?!) So when I found out that I had an international-celebrity-nanny gig and I was going to Paris and Ireland for two weeks, I sent an email to my favorite Somm and asked her what I should drink. She replied with, “Drink a ton of rose (not the flower….the wine. I am lacking an accent ).” Ok, done. She mentioned other things about natural wine, the Loire valley, and Beaujolais, but when I got the go ahead with the rosé, I was all set. And super excited.

It turns out that I didn’t get a chance to drink as much wine as I would have liked. I mean, I like wine.
A lot.
And I like Paris.
A lot.

But as I was there on a work trip and not a va-cay, I only drank a few wonderful times. [editor's note: sad face.]

So I was off on this crazy adventure. The best story involves the stunning and SUPER French restaurant, Le Relais de Venise son Entrecole. Apparently there are a few of these places in Paris, but I was told this is the original – and the best.

The best what?
Steak Frites.
This is a restaurant where all they serve is steak frites.
There is no menu.
There are only fries and meat.

You can only order rare, medium, or well. Medium-rare is impossible according to the waitress. (And I’m pretty sure that if you order a steak well-done you get punched in the face.)

I ordered my steak medium and a glass of house red because (for this American in Paris) meat & fries & France = red. My waitress was pleased. thank goodness.

Everything was amazing. You get two portions of everything. So as soon as you finished your plate of perfectly cooked meat, crispy fried potatoes and to die for French-y, Herb-y, sauce – you get another. Bring it! I was thrilled. [editor's note: now you know why we are friends.]

There was lots more work and my days were filled with dinosaurs, diggers, and trucks. How happy was I when I found myself with an hour to kill, a 2 year-old boy, and FIRETRUCKS with FIREMEN doing FIRESTUFF right in front of a lovely café.

Score.

Chilled house rosé and a goat cheese salad.

C’est magnifique! [editor's note: the wine or the firedudes?]

The last evening worth mentioning involves time spent in the Bar Hemingway at the Ritz Hotel. The hotel is of course stunning and this bar is a must.

Bar Hemmingway is an American bar in this very French city. The atmosphere is laid back, easygoing, and very unpretentious. For a city with a reputation for surly inhabitants, I must say I had a stellar few hours in that bar. I chatted with the adorable and very famous bartender Colin Field. He makes the most incredible drinks and suggested I have one of the house specialties, a Serendipity – something with Champagne, mint, French-goodness and a whole ROSE in it!

Swoon.

I had another house specialty drink (but as the cocktails are 30 euro each and for me did the trick) I’m not sure what was in it. But it was great. And it came with ANOTHER ROSE.

Double swoon.

Mini sliders were involved in there somewhere but I was busy working on my high school French with my new friend, a lovely French Journalist named Damian, they are only a memory. Speaking in French TO the French was 78% wildly embarrassing, but very fun and I was pretty toasted. The evening was super relaxing, very social and so different from how I was spending my days. I was thrilled to go upstairs to my room and climb in my fancy plush soft bed.

Ireland was not memorable for any food or wine.

Sorry friends.

I understand that there is some great food in that beautiful country, but where I was staying the only edible food was fried. (I ordered a salad and I am pretty sure the dressing on it was mayonnaise. I mean, woah Ireland.) It was the end of my working trip and I didn’t really have much time for drinking anyway. Though I would have enjoyed a glass or two of some good Irish whiskey! [editor's note: no time for drinking?? what kind of slave drivers were these people?]

All in all, the trip was an adventure from start to finish! I was happy to get to eat and drink in such wonderful locations and I learned more about Paris than I ever had before. So if you’re going on a trip? DRINK! Or at the very least email my lovely friend here and see if she has any pearls of alcoholic wisdom for your region of choice.

xo.

[editor's note: you're nice.]

I have been eagerly awaiting this moment….without any further ado…

No- this is not a slightly embarrassing article of my clothing. It is…. the Wine Monkey.

It’s amazing, isn’t it? Well- it can be yours. Leave a comment (tell me what your favorite summer sipper is right now) and I will pick a winner on Friday. If you’re not the lucky lad or lass that gets the goods, you can buy one in Los Angeles at domaineLA!

What: A Lebanese feast (and birthday celebration for moi)

Where: Marouch

Eats: hummos, dolmas, tabbouleh, kibbeh, falafel, labneh, fattouch, fatayer…. basically, every Lebanese (and some Armenian) food you can think of- we ate it. And it was damn good. Serge- you’re the man!

Dranks:  NV German Gilabert cava, 2009 Moulin de Gassac Guilhem rosé, 2008 Chateau d’Oupia Les Heretiques (all carried in a case by me to the restaurant…with high heels and all.) Please note- yes, Chateau Musar was on the list at the restaurant. And yes, it was too expensive for our broke asses. Other than that- go to Marouch for the food….not the wine.

Photos: by dear friend (and hot sexy mama) Marisa of  Marisa Q Photography

Thanks to all my pretty and funny pals! Love you lots. And to the winemakers who so beautifully made the wine in which I imbibed. And to Matthew and Dustin at Covell for letting me close the place down post-dinner. If you haven’t been there yet people- get with the times! Go now.

All right- I promise not to bore you with anymore bday related posts. Birthday week officially over. Sad face.

What do mothers love? Tea. Scones. Clotted cream. Rose gardens. Museums with…art and pretty things. Where do you take your mother when she visits town? A place that has tea, scones, clotted cream, a ton of roses and a lot of art. Get thee to the Huntington!

The gardens are absolutely lovely. There’s a rainforest, a tropical garden, a sub-tropical garden, desert garden, japanese garden, chinese garden…you get the point. There is no short of variety here. And within the rose garden there is also a tea room. From the idyllic splendor of rose scented paths and floating butterflies, we entered….

A Doubletree in Ohio? A Best Western continental breakfast in Indiana? What is going on here?

After knocking back our respective rooibos (me) and english breakfast (mom) teas, we quickly packed up our scones to go and headed back into the sweet bounty of the Mother Nature.

Sorry Huntington, but seriously. You need to step up your game. In the future, I should have taken the advice of my friend Rachel and grabbed a pot of tea and a bento box in the amazing Japanese garden. Next time.

{warning! self indulgent post!}

Wishes:

Healthy and happy friends. Healthy and happy family.

Lots of laughter. Belly laughs. Deep, primal guffawing. I look like an idiot- tears streaming- I may be drooling laughing.

Good wine and good food. In neverending abundance.

Although these wishes have already basically come true (pinch myself), I wish for them to continue. Forever. Thank you.

PS- I would also like cake. Endless supplies of Baskin Robbins mint chocolate chip ice cream cake. You can get the girl out of Kentucky…

In anticipation of my 32 Natural Days post on Saturday, I bring you a teaser of sorts. I spent the day with Alessandro Dettori when I was in Sardinia and had a truly wonderful time. After walking the vineyards and checking out the cellar, he plopped me down in a chair at the family farm table for a 2 hour lunch of Sardinia’s finest dishes. He also opened every wine he produces, but we’ll get to that on Saturday. Now- the feast…aka the lunch of my dreams.

As we approached the kitchen, Alessandro pulled me to the side to show me something. He slid back a massive door to a massive oven. Inside was most of what I would be eating for lunch. He explained that they build a fire in the oven and then remove it leaving the stones within incredibly hot. They then put the food in….and leave it. As simple as that. He said it can stay hot for several hours.

Alessandro recruited his friend, the talented Chef Piero Careddu, to run the kitchen at his agriturismo A Kent’Annos. And Piero definitely delivered; with all ingredients from their farm. And if it wasn’t from their farm, it was from their neighbor’s farm. With that- on to the food!

Antipasti- fresh chopped pepper, pistachio and raisin salad. Eggplant fritelli (little fried balls). Herbed sheep’s milk ricotta (to spread on the fresh baked bread). Cippolini rossi gratinata. Lardo and salami.

Primi- his mama’s zuppa di pane (herbed bread and cheese casserole, essentially). And yes- it was made by his mom, who also works in the kitchen. A sheep’s broth is used to season the dish and it is used in many dishes in Sardinian cuisine. We were also served a pasta dish that was delicious- maltagliati castrato (the dish in the background of the photo above.) The meat comes from a castrated sheep. How this differs from a sheep with fully intact family jewels- I have no idea. But it was pretty darn good.

The traditional Sardinian flatbread pane carasau.

Secondo- Roasted pork with olives (Mama Dettori cured them) and potatoes. Delicious and so good with the wine. Which was what was so amazing about all of it. The wine and the food are meant to be together.

Dolce- holy hell. This was some kind of divine other-worldly moment for me in that which is the dessert experience. This little thing is called a seadas. It’s like a hand pie and is filled with fresh sheep’s milk ricotta studded with lemon zest and covered in honey and crunchy sugar bits.

Yeah. I finished it. And wished for a second. And scraped every last bit of honey that could possibly be salvaged with my fork and without the use of either my finger or my tongue (which would be rude, no?)

A second seadas did not come, but this happy and cheerful man did. Armed with a pan of his ricotta cake.

I am sad to say that I don’t remember this man’s name but I remember his cooking! He was helping with some construction on the property. And you know, he just whipped up this little ditty before coming in to work. It’s just what they do.

We sat outside with our espresso and enjoyed the cake. In addition to my cake, I also had an extremely large grin and not a care in the world.

Cagliari, Sardinia.

I awoke from a much needed nap to the sounds of church bells and breezes. A day of travel and strong beach breezes left me tired. I dressed and met my new friend Alessandra down the street for an early evening stroll through the old town. We window shopped and gazed with mouths watering at everyone’s cones of soft ice cream. It seems as though 7 PM was the magic hour for a cone in Cagliari that night. Ale’s cousin Omar and his friend joined us on our walk…which ended at a wine bar. Of course it did. Salumi and cheese was shared as was Sardinian rose.

9:30 PM and stomachs rumbling, Omar places a call. An important call. To his mama. Did I want to have dinner at their home? A typical Sardinian meal? Duh. Yes- in a hurry. We arrived 30 minutes later with wine in hand (2007 Cannonau and a Sardinian frizzante) to the scent of grilled prawns wafting through the night air from the outdoor kitchen. Lucia had outdone herself. A rice dish of fresh grilled octopus, whole grilled fish, grilled gamberi rossi….and a cheese course complete with bottarga. Salt cured fish roe. Which fish? Not the normal muggine, no. Tonight it was swordfish bottarga.

The swordfish bottarga hidden in a sea of cheese. The saltiness is overwhelming. But intoxicatingly overwhelming (in a good way.) A few crumbs is sufficient. After a fashion show of every large and colorful hat in Lucia’s closet and it’s matching glove pairing, it was time for something sweet.

Lucia returned from the kitchen with 3 chilled bottles of homemade liquore. We must try them all, she demanded! You don’t have to twist my arm…the offerings: the traditional Sardinian mirto (berries from the myrtle plant- like blueberries…sort of), limoncello and to my surprise- bay leaf.

2:30 AM Eyelids heavy and bellies beyond full and aching from guffaw-like laughter it was time to say goodbye. My most sincere of thanks to Lucia and Omar for being such generous (and entertaining) hosts. And to Alessandra for showing me how and why Sardinians do it better. A kent’annos!

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