A.B.C. GIRL
I had always preferred red wine. White held no interest for me. When people talked about the “butter” or “popcorn” or “oakiness” in a Chardonnay, I didn’t believe it, didn’t taste it, gave up trying to taste it. To me, there were no tasting notes … it was all acid, and once it was 1 degree warmer above the ideal temperature, undrinkable. In college, my friends knew I was at an event when they saw a waiter carrying a solitary glass of red among many whites.
Anything.
But.
Chardonnay.
Give me a Gamay Beaujolais … that was my wine. Nice to sip alone or pair with food, balanced alcohol and fruit, neither too heavy nor too light. Alas, it disappeared from the shelves … and when I mentioned it, people didn’t know which wine I meant. But my whining was rewarded … and years later with a new name, it reappeared. Pinot Noir.
David and his BFF, Bill, drove up to Santa Barbara County several times a year … and returned with cases. And cases. There were favorite tasting rooms … and Deb, Mrs. Ken Brown (a recipient of a plate of cookies on my first visit!), was happy to ship a case or two if our supply ran low. Our friend, Andy, called me the Pinot Princess … and I enjoyed the title even though no tiara was included.
We also began sampling, tasting, enjoying Italian wines, especially with Lou, the owner of a wine shop/storage facility. He seemed to understand my palate before I did. We went to casual tastings and fancier dinners, as we expanded our love and appreciation and consumption of Italian wine. So when we were planning our next trip to Italy, Lou said he’d hook us up at a few wineries. These were the mid aughts … when one couldn’t just appear at a winery, at least not at a good winery, for a tasting … so we had contact names and phone numbers to introduce ourselves.
We called Sportoletti, in Umbria. It’s an hour or so south of the location location location of Chianti Classico, but we knew a recommendation from Lou would make it worth the longer drive. They would be happy to have us visit. We were ready.
Sportoletti is owned and run by two brothers, Ernesto and Remo, and their sons, cousins Fabio and Marco. So we were impressed that Ernesto was our guide on a tour of the facility, gleaming steel in different sizes for different wines, different stages of fermentation for their four wines … two whites, two reds … then on to the barrel room. It’s always exciting to see the French oak, toasted to order, starting to tint red at the tops around the plastic corks. Do you want to taste some wine? Is the Pope … oops, sorry, I thought to myself. Of course was the reply.
We walked into the tasting room … a big space with four long wooden tables, space for 12 or 14 people at each … and at the end of one table was a setting for 2. Just us. Wine goblets, a basket of grissini, a plate of salumi and another of cheese. We sat down.
Ernesto stood proudly at the head of the table. He picked up a bottle, and poured … white wine. “This is our Grechetto,” he began in Italian-y English (or English-y Italian). “A grape from ancient Greece that grows particularly well in Umbria.”
White wine.
And the winemaker is staring at me.
I swirled the glass and sniffed, swirled again. Floral. Pleasant. I braced myself, trying to remember all the positive wine adjectives I knew. Sip. Honeysuckle. Another sip. Pear. I smiled! It was light and floral and nuanced and crisp … and I had nothing but praise. David explained to Ernesto that this was unprecedented.
I finished the glass.
As we transitioned from white to red, Ernesto wanted us to try their olive oil. As we later learned, it’s made with frantoio olives … and it was the best oil we’d ever tried. Peppery, but not overpowering, bright and rich. It still is our favorite. We enjoyed the red wines, too … the Assisi Rosso perfect to drink any day or every day, the Villa Fidelia complex and well-suited to serve with a meatier meal.
Back in L.A., Grechetto but a memory, David searched the internet to find it. Finally, he found some at a wine shop in New York, from another winery, but Grechetto nonetheless. $100 for free shipping was easy. We chilled the bottles, and eagerly opened the first one with friends. The worst! No, I didn’t spit it out … (close) … but I slapped the back of my head to try and remove the taste. For one brief shining moment, Woodland Hills Wines carried it … but with their most ardent purchasers (us [wink]) now out of the area, it appears to be unavailable.
My palate was awakened, and I was enthusiastic to try other Italian whites. Falanghina is near the top of my list … Greco di Tufo … and the Vs, Vermentino and Vernaccia. By beloved Pinot … Grigio and Bianco … and Sauvignon Blanc in Italian hands make for nice summer sipping.
Prosecco is a refrigerator staple, and when Franciacorta is on special, we buy extra bottles. The revenge of the Chardonnay grape is that champagne gives me a headache (I know, life’s a bitch … Taittinger, Louis Roederer … sigh). Happily there is dispensation when methode champenoise is used with Italian grape varietals.
I am a convert. When Petra and I have girls’ night out, it’s a bottle of white we share. Girls’ lunch al fresco … ditto. And lest you think white is all I drink, let’s talk sometime about brunello.
SPICED NUT TART
Linzer Torte is a dessert from my childhood, and this is a close cousin. I like to make it with apricot jam, which I find on the lower (and more acceptable) end of very sweet. Almonds or walnuts can be used instead of the hazelnuts.
2-½ cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. salt
1 cup hazelnuts, finely ground
4 oz. butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 cup apricot jam … or homemade jam/preserves of any flavor
- Preheat oven to 350°F (170° C).
- In a medium bowl, combine dry ingredients, including hazelnuts.
- In large bowl, cream butter and sugar, then add eggs. Stir in dry ingredients.
- Divide the dough into ¾ and ¼ … and refrigerate for about 1 hour (you can keep it in the mixing bowl or wrap it in plastic).
- Press the ¾ piece into the bottom and up the sides of a 9 inch round false-bottom or springform pan. Spread with apricot jam.
- Place the ¼ piece between two silpats and roll out to a 9-inch oval, about ¼ inch thick. Cut 6 strips about ½ inch wide … two that are 9 inches long and four that are about 7 inches long.
- Make the lattice pattern on the jam with three strips in each direction. Place one 9 inch strip down the middle of the tart, with a 7 inch strip parallel on each side. Turn the pan 90 degrees … repeat with the remaining three strips.
- Using the tip of a sharp knife (a paring knife works well), gentle fold the dough that is higher than the strips to make a ¼ to ½ inch lip over the edge of the jam.
- Bake for 35–40 minutes, or until golden brown.
- Remove sides of pan and place on serving plate.
Note … if you dust the tart with powdered sugar, you will need to use the tip of the paring knife to “stir” some of jam so that the beautiful color contrasts with the sugar.
Enjoy!
