Matters of Taste

Wacky Wine Labels

Ever been tempted to buy a bottle of wine just because you liked the label? C’mon. Fess up.  Why else would you possibly have snatched up that Cat’s Pee on a Gooseberry Bush Sauvignon Blanc when you could have had a nice Sonoma S.B. for the same 13 bucks?

No. I’m not kidding about the Cat’s Pee. In fact, The Coopers Creek line of New Zealand wines also includes Fat Cat Chardonnay and Tom Cat Merlot. The Web site calls the Cat's Pee "youthful and kittenish" and "extremely playful."  I haven't tasted it myself. But I'm guessing that if you buy a wine called Cat's Pee you pretty much deserve what you get.

The Cat harem joins dozens, maybe scores, of other wines that are trying to get attention via the shock value, sex, silliness, kitsch or humor of their labels.

I started thinking about this phenomenon when I bought a bottle of “Screwed" -- Pink Wine McLaren Vale, Australia 2005 for $5.99 at the Grocery Outlet in Oceanside. The label elaborates on the concept "screwed," as in "My alarm didn't go off," "I missed the bus," "My computer froze,"  and, of course, "The dog ate my homework."

We all know the obvious contenders in this labeling madness.  Marilyn Merlot, Seven Deadly Zins, Goats Do Roam, Bonny Doon’s Cardinal Zin, which was apparently banned in Ohio in 2001, and Screw Kappa Napa which claims it is made by “3 Loose Screws.”

But I had a great time learning about the more obscure entries in the field. I could have spent hours on Peter May’s Unusual Wine Labels Web site. (Hey, he’s not making fun of your "American Idol" obsession, is he?)

Not only does the site list hundreds of, ah, shall we say, lesser-known wines (with links), but also dozens of articles written about the phenomenon. Then, for those folks with even more time on their hands, there's a site specializing in pictures of funny labels, called, appropriately enough Damnfunnypictures.com.

OK. You’re dying to know about Screwed Pink Wine, right?
Well, it's perfectly fine....maybe a weensy bit on the sweet side. Rather salmon colored than pink. Tasting notes say cranberries and cherries; I just taste "wine." But, hey, let's not be snobs. It tastes good, partners casual summer fare well, and is a good conversation piece, to boot.

I just know that you're sitting there chuckling over the funniest, or most outrageous, label you've seen. Please share. We'd all like to hear about it.

Hot Off The Presses

Mario Batali, he of the orange clogs and awesome restaurant empire, just invited himself to your next backyard cookout.

With his hot-off-the-presses “Mario Batali Italian Grill” cookbook, the relentlessly exuberant chef will nudge you, ever so gently, beyond bratwurst and BBQed ribs and into some pretty delicious dishes you might never have thought of on your on.

“No way is mine going to look like that,” I said, looking at a glossy photo in the book and unfurling a massive boneless turkey breast on the cutting board. But, much to my amazement and glee, my version of Mario’s Spit-Roasted Turkey Breast Porchetta-Style did, indeed, look just as good and tasted great, too.

(The recipe calls for a stuffing of sautéed sausage, onion, shallots and garlic, mixed with bread cubes and fresh herbs. The stuffed breast is rolled horizontally, rotisseried, and cut into glamorous “swirled” slices.)

I also felt pretty smug with the Charred Tuna Spiedini with Spicy Peppers I made by rolling one-inch cubes of sushi-grade ahi tuna in a blend of fennel pollen, oregano, sugar, salt and pepper. The bumpy little cubes were then threaded on wooden skewers and grilled until pink inside and voluptuously browned and crispy on the outside. (The multi-colored bell pepper mixture gets its spice from four sliced jalapenos, probably more heat than most palates can handle.)

The book is attractive, colorful and user-friendly. The layout is neat and airy; the typeface is one baby-boomers can live with. And many recipes fit completely on one page, giving them a “Sure, I can do that” appeal.

Batali’s instructions are clear, complete and conversational.  There’s lots of “toss this”, “smear that” and ”Things may seem a little smoky and hectic – do not worry.” OK, Mario, if you say so.

Oh, yes. Almost forgot the Marinated Zucchini. That recipe also made me look like a genius. (Hey, when did you ever think of dumping fresh ricotta cheese, mint and Serrano chilies on marinated, grilled zucchini?)

The book sells for $29.95; available at Amazon.com. 

Hottest Breasts in Town

Jidori Chicken.

All of a sudden it’s popping up on menus everywhere and diners are sitting there, nodding knowingly, and pretending they know exactly what the heck it is.

Am I the only one who’s wondering?                                       

Is it chicken doused in a sauce of green melon liqueur?
Is it a bird that plays the violin?
Does it have anything to do with a holy war?

What the…? What the…?

After ordering a few of the trendy birds in restaurants around the Southland, and finding nothing particularly unusual about them, I decided to check out the phenomenon and share my findings on this morning's SignOnRadio show, The Gourmet Club.                   

Turns out Jidori is an exotic-sounding name – and usually a correspondingly higher pricetag – for a nice fresh chicken, raised sustainably, never frozen, and sold locally

It all started in Japan, where the Jidori is, indeed, a prized, pure breed of chicken. Some time ago, some clever soul over there cross-bred a Hinaidori chick with a Rhode Island Red and got the prized Akita Hinai-Jidori. Akita is the local prefecture; Hinai is the town.

Jidori translates roughly as “chicken of the earth” or “ground chicken” (not as in hamburger but as in free-range, ground-scratching).

In Japan, the birds are raised by a handful of farmers who say they feed the chicks tomatoes and apples and “thawing waters” from the nearby Ou Mountains. Even more important is the fact that the slaughtered birds are in the hands of chefs and home cooks within hours. No freezing ever. No long hauls to the market.

So much for Japan.

Here in the U.S., Jidori chicken got its first close-up in, where else, L.A.  In the early 1990s, the city’s famous Japanese chefs all wanted Jidori chicken on their menus. According to Dennis Mao, the enterprising gent who created the company JidoriChicken, he couldn’t import enough of the precious birds for demanding chefs so he contracted with farms in the Central Valley to grow an all-natural, free-range bird that would come close to the real thing.

Technically, all the restaurants in the U.S. touting Jidori chicken should be saying Jidori-STYLE chicken.  Whatever. In the right hands, they are fresh, plump, creamy-tasting birds with lots of flavor and no hormones or antibiotics.                              

"They aren't like a special breed, and I'm not massaging those chickens," Mao quipped in an article in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. "I wish it were more glamorous, but it's just a good-quality bird that gets to you in less than 24 hours."               

Some of the interesting restaurant renditions I’ve discovered include a golden, cracklingly crisp whole chick, deep-fried, at The Stonehill Tavern of the St. Regis Monarch Bay Hotel in Laguna Niguel (the creation of super-chef Michael Mina is pictured above);  and a crispy chicken served with Chinese sausage, egg, rice and licorice broth at Jack’s La Jolla.

Patina in L.A. scents the chicken with fresh lavender. Stingaree in downtown’s Gaslamp Quarter wraps it in a honey-almond crust. And at Urban Solace in North Park, the Jidori-style chick is brined, roasted, “pulled,” and served with buttermilk dumplings.

Here’s a recipe from Epicurious.com to try out on your friends. Serve it with a nice Rosé (come on, it’s Springtime) and a mini tutorial entitled “Exactly what is Jidori chicken?”

CHICKEN WITH 40 CLOVES OF GARLIC
Serves 4

1 (4-lb) chicken
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 scant cup olive oil
2 fresh parsley sprigs
1 fresh rosemary sprig
1 fresh thyme sprig
1 fresh sage sprig
1 bay leaf (not California)
1 celery rib
40 garlic cloves, peeled (from 3 to 4 heads of garlic)
Toast pieces

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Rinse chicken and pat dry. Sprinkle inside and out with salt and pepper. Tie legs together with kitchen string and fold wings under chicken.

Heat oil in a 6- to 8-quart wide heavy ovenproof pot over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then brown chicken, turning it carefully, until golden brown, about 10 minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate.

Tie herbs and celery together with kitchen string to make a bouquet garni and add to pot along with garlic cloves. Put chicken, breast side up, on top of cloves and bake, covered tightly, in middle of oven, basting twice, until cooked through and an instant-read thermometer inserted 2 inches into fleshy part of a thigh (avoid bone) registers 170°F, 30 to 40 minutes.

Transfer chicken to a cutting board, reserving pan juices, and let stand 10 minutes. Cut chicken into serving pieces and spread roasted garlic on toasts. Serve chicken drizzled with some of reserved pan juices.

To Mom With Love

The special Mother’s Day cookies from Dancing Deer are the prettiest way to day "I Love You" on her big day. They’re also one of the yummiest. The shortbread hearts, hand-stenciled with sayings like “You rock!” and “Moms rule!” are rich and buttery and melt in your mouth. The Deer’s Brownie Sampler is also delicious: chocolate chunk, caramel pecan, peppermint fudge and peanut butter. Another favorite is the towering Strawberry Shortcake cake with its sweet biscuity crumble and fragrant strawberry jam swirl. The cookies and cake are about $20; A pack of 16 brownies is $34.50. Shop on-line; also available at upscale markets such as Whole Foods.

You can’t go wrong with an elegant chocolate morsel from B.T. McElrath. I happen to be partial to the scrumptious Peanut Butter Pavé, but I’d also be thrilled to dig into a package of the company's new Lemon Blossoms that are filled with a tangy lemon buttercream made with fresh lemons. Shop on-line; also available at upscale markets such as Whole Foods.

The folks at Bloomsberry & Co. don’t just want you to eat chocolate, they want you to laugh and marvel at their creativity while you’re doing it. Log onto the wonderfully whimsical Web site and select a few bars that will fit Mom’s personality. The Ultimate Balanced Diet?  Beauty Bar? Wonder Bar…For the Life You’ll Love?  Bochox? All are solid chocolate, with cocoa percentages listed on the labels. All cost about $5 each on-line and at upscale markets such as Cost Plus.

Cupcakes are the rage. Keep Mom in the loop with a gift of precious little cupcakes from the hip-and-trendy Sprinkles bakery in Beverly Hills. The flavor palette includes such temptations as peanut butter chocolate; ginger lemon; mocha; orange; and chai latte. Each one is almost too pretty to eat. Cost: $3.25 per cupcake. Available on-line and at their five stores in Southern California, Dallas and Phoenix. (The Web site claims that 16 new stores are on the drawing board, from Boston to Seattle. That means that EVERY Mom will have Sprinkles next year…buy now if your Mom likes to feeling she’s ahead of the curve.)

For do-it-yourself Moms,  you can buy a packaged mix from Sprinkles that will yield a dozen dense, delicious cupcakes (complete with  sugary confetti and a recipe for frosting) for $14 at Williams-Sonoma stores.

Quick. Name something that screams “celebration” louder than Champagne. Or, to be perfectly correct, sparkling wine (since only wines from France’s Champagne region are legally allowed to use that term).

Right. I didn't think so. So, how about some pink bubbly for Mom this year. There are hundreds and hundreds of different ones available, at all price points.

Col di Luna Rosé di Valmonte, from Italy, has a delicate flavor and lovely berry scent. It’s crisp and dry, meaning it can partner an entrée as well as toast the world’s best Mom. It’s about $15 at John Given Wines. 

Jacob’s Creek of Australia creates admirable, dependable wines at bargain basement prices. Their sparkling rosé is about $9 at BevMo.

But if it were I hoisting a flute this Sunday, I’d want it to be the Azienda Ceretto SRL Barbaresco Asij. I’ve never tried this wine – which is why I’d like to – but I did taste my way through the Ceretto vineyards some years ago and didn’t find anything I didn't like. Made with nebbiolo grapes, this bubbly comes from one of the most renowned Piedmont vintners (and has one of the most stylish labels, too). It’s about $35 at Wine Chateau.

Sassy Salsas

Cinco de Mayo is as good a day as any to make the acquaintance of a new salsa.

The folks at Pace, considered a Big Boy in the bottled salsa world, have introduced a new line of upscale, slightly more expensive salsas. They're called Specialty Sauces, come in a wider jar with a more elegant label that bears the signature of founder David Pace. (The regular bottles have a "waist," a very busy label and no signature.)

There are five salsas in the new line: Triple Pepper, with serrano, guajillo and mild green chilies; Pico de Gallo with red tomatoes, chunks of onion and fresh cilantro; "Mexican Four Cheese Salsa con Queso" which sounds redundant to me; Tequila Lime; and Salsa Verde.

They're all an improvement over most supermarket salsas, in that they don't have that slimy texture and in-a-bottle-forever taste. I especially like the Salsa Verde which has a yellow tomato base but enough tomatillos to impart their characteristic tang. It's perked up with garlic, lime, cilantro and smoked paprika. And there's just enough vinegar to make it lively. I also like the smooth texture which is thick enough to hold onto a tortilla chip but missing the renegade chunks that always seem to end up on the floor or the tablecloth.

The Tequila Lime Salsa is quite good, too, with its yellow tomato base, jalapenos, onions and lime juice. There's also some "squash puree" on the ingredient list; I think it adds interest to both the flavor and texture. But, though the word Tequila on the label is bound to sell plenty of bottles of this stuff, I found the firewater flavor missing-in-action.

A 16-ounce jar costs about $3.50 at most supermarkets.

Liquid Gold

I discovered a couple of new olive oils this week that are worthy of a place on my shelf.

Sorelle Paradiso is a family-owned company with a nice story and a very nice olive oil. The Scianamblo family has been farming olives in California's Central Valley for more than 30 years. Recently they started to turn some of those olives into an organic extra virgin olive oil that is pressed at Frantoio Ristorante and Olive Oil Co. in Mill Valley, CA.                  

The "sorelle," Italian for sisters, were Anna and Francesca, the aunts (and great aunts) of the Scianamblo clan. Anna and Francesca came from the family homestead in Puglia in the early 1900s, bringing with them, according to the Web site, the family's culinary traditions.

Sorelle Paradiso's 100% Sevillano Extra Virgin Olive Oil recently won "Best of Show" at the 2008 Las Vegas Restaurant Show. It's an olive oil that will please all palates -- smooth and mild, with a buttery richness and fresh, bright olive aroma and taste. It's equally at home on sauteed vegetables and in a vinaigrette.

The family's Mission Blend of 90% Mission olives and 10% Sevillano olives also won an award from the California Olive Oil Council. It's good, too, with plenty of the "bite" and bitterness expected from a high quality EVOO. I like it drizzled over bruschetta topped with pureed white beans and arugula. It also adds pizzazz to a pasta sauce of chopped raw tomatoes, fresh basil ribbons and grated parmesan.

At present, the oils are only sold in California. You can find them at The Pasta Shoppe in Berkeley and Mill Valley Market Grocery in Mill Valley.

I was also intrigued by the name and bottle design of EvooRoo, an extra virgin olive oil from Australia.  The name combines EVOO, short for Extra Virgin Olive Oil and ROO, nickname of the bouncy creatures for which the continent is known.

It's a nice enough olive oil, with a pleasantly peppery bite. But there's not a lot of finesse there. Nonetheless, the clever name and eye-catching label make it an ideal hostess gift. I found it at Whole Foods. Available in a 16-ounce bottle, EvooRoo is a good value at $10.

What Goes Around

Most Baby Boomers vividly remember the "poor hungry children in China" who were, somehow, growing hungrier just because we brats wouldn't clean our plates at the dinner table.

Now, it turns out, those kids in China are not only eating tons of America's favorite sandwich cookie, the Oreo, but a fancy-schmancy Oreo created exclusively for them.

According to a story in today's Wall Street Journal, Kraft has "reinvented" the iconic cookie to make it sell better in the world's most populous nation. It's not a sandwich anymore. And it's not round. Instead,  the Chinese Oreo is made of four layers of long, thin, crispy wafers, filled with vanilla and chocolate cream, and coated with chocolate. I guess you'd call it the culinary version of re-inventing the wheel. (I don't quite understand, by the way, why the wrapper shows a round cookie if the product inside is rectangular.)

I will give credit, however, to Kraft for "going with the flow."  The world's second largest food company is currently undergoing what Chief Executive Irene Rosenfeld sees as a kind of "entrepreneurial transformation." That means giving the Chinese market a wispy,  four-layered wafer cookie if that's what the Chinese market wants. (Seems to me that's what the Kit Kat is for.)

I'm particularly impressed with Kraft's grassroots marketing campaign in China to "educate" the consumer about Oreos. Apparently 300 students were hired as "brand ambassadors" to ride around Beijing on bicycles with wheel covers that resemble the real Oreo. Other students have held Oreo-themed basketball games to reinforce the American notion of dunking cookies in milk.

I'm certainly willing to taste the reinvented Oreo...you know, in the interest of international cultural understanding, etc. But I'm pretty sure it won't be as much fun as the traditional experience: Take one sweet-smelling Oreo. Twist ever so gently 'til the sides pop apart. Dunk the plain side in milk and eat.  Then s-l-o-w-l-y scrape the creamy white stuff off the other half with your teeth and bask in the feeling of being 10 years old again.