Mel Brooks: “It’s all good [at Mozza].”

Leave it to Mel Brooks to give a new spin to the Hollywood cliché “It’s all good.” General manager and wine director David Rossoff was kind enough to let me snap a pic of this check presenter comments card the other night at Mozza in Los Angeles, signed by no other than the man himself, Adolf “Elizabeth” Hitler, otherwise known as Mel Brooks (Some of you will undoubtedly know the “Elizabeth” punchline: “he came from a long line of queens.”) Evidently, after dining with his longtime collaborator Carl Reiner in the osteria one night, Mel couldn’t help himself from making yet another Hitler joke. There are so many good ones by Mel but my favorite remains “Heil myself” (right up there with “Say Heil - Heil - siegety Heil”).

Who’d have ever thought I’d actually be able to use “Adolf Hitler” as a tag?

Hitler Rap (To Be or Not to Be)
— Mel Brooks

Well
hi there people
you know me
I used to run a little joint called Germany.

I was number one
the people’s choice
And everybody listened to my mighty voice.
My name is Adolf
I’m on the mike.
I’m gonna hip you to the story of the New Third Reich.
It all began down in Munich town and pretty soon
The word started gettin’ around.
So I said to Martin Boorman
I said
Hey Marty, why don’t we throw a little nazi party?
We had an election
well
kinda sorta
And before you knew it hello
new order.
To all those mothers in the fatherland I said
Achtung, Baby, I got me a plan
.
‘YVhatcha got Adolf? Whatcha gonna do?”
I said “how about this one
World War Two?”

To be or not to be
oh baby
can’t you see

We’re gonna take it to the top. You’re making history
And it feels so good to me
ooh darlin’
please don’t ever stop.
Don’t be stupid; be a smarty
come on and join the nazi party - party.
Like humpty dumpty offa that wall

All the little countries they began to fall
Holland
Belgium
Denmark
Poland-
The troops were rockin’ and the tanks were rollin’

We were swingin’ along with a song in our hearts.
And “Deutschland über alles” was making the charts

We had a new step called a goosestep we were dancing to.
Well it’s sorta kinda like a German boogaloo

I was gettin’ what I wanted
but it wasn’t enough.
So I called the boys
I said boys
get though

Now I surrounded myself with some unusual cats.
There was skinny little Göbbels and Göring mister fats

And let’s not forget ole Himmler and Hess.
You’d better believe we made a hell of a mess

Say Heil - Heil - siegety Heil
we gonna whip it on the people teutonic style
To be or not to be
oh baby
can’t you see

We’re gonna make it to the top. You are our destiny

This thing was meant to be
why don’t we do it till we drop?
Say you boots ain’t black and shirt ainY brown?
Well
get back Jack
you can’t get down. Do it
Adolf
do it.
I drank wine from the Rhine with the finest ladies

And we did it in the back of my black Mercedes.

I was on a roll
I couldn’t lose
then came D-day
the birth of the blues.
The Yanks and the Brits started raising cain

Those guys were the pits
I was goin’ insane.
People all around me started swallowing pills

Let’s face it
folks
we was going downhill.
Berlin was crumbling
we was under the gun

Time to look out for number one.
So I grabbed a blonde and a case of beer

Say the Russians are commin’
lets get out of here.

To be or not to be
oh honey
can’t you see

We had to take it to the top. You sure made history
And it felt so good to me
oh schatze

Please don’t ever stop.

Auf wiedersehn
good to’ve seen ya

I got a one way ticket to Argentina.
To be or not to be
oh baby
can’t you see

We’ve got to take it to the top. You’re makin’ history
And it feels so good to me

Why don’t we do it till we drop?
We have ways of making you dance . . .
- Sprechen Sie Argentinian ?

Just in from Montalcino…

My friend Alessandro Bindocci, whose family makes traditional-style Brunello (at Il Poggione in Sant’Angelo in Colle, one of my favorite producers of Brunello), sent me a copy of the Italian agriculture minister’s decree establishing an official government body (the ICQ) to provide Brunello producers with “declarations” that their wines are 100% Sangiovese. I’ve translated the salient passages of the decree and posted at VinoWire.

Q&A: Disgorging Movia Puro

This morning, one of my favorite wine bloggers, Brooklynguy, stopped by Do Bianchi and inquired about Movia’s Puro (yesterday, I posted a photo of Jon Erickson of Jaynes Gastropub disgorging a bottle of the traditional method sparkling wine).

The unusual thing about this wine is that Aleš Kristančič of Movia does not disgorge the wine before release. If handled properly, the wine is stored upside down so that the sediment settles in the neck of the bottle. In order to disgorge it, you place the bottle upside down in a vessel filled with water (ideally a clear punch bowl or similar), you hold the cork in one hand as you gently twist the bottle with the other, and when the sediment is released into the water, you turn the bottle right side up. As long as the sediment has settled entirely in the neck before disgorging, the wine will be clear (not cloudy).

Earlier this year, I found this YouTube video of an Italian sommelier disgorging a bottle (note that he has another bottle positioned upside down in a black cardboard tube that Movia now ships with the wine):

It looks like it’s hard to do and the first time you do it, your instinct is that the bottle is going to “backfire” toward you. But it’s actually really easy and while Nous Non Plus was staying at Movia in April, Aleš had each of us disgorge a bottle (even the girls and the drummer). I know that at least one NYC retailer of Italian wines sends out erroneous instructions about disgorging the wine: despite what the so-called “Italian wine experts” claim, you DO NOT NEED TO FREEZE THE SEDIMENT IN THE NECK of the bottle. You simply need to store the bottle upside down at your preferred serving temperature (I like my Puro at “cellar” temperature, not overly chilled).

He makes it look easy (and it is): Jean-Luc Retard (vox, bass) aka Dan Crane aka Björn Türoque disgorges a bottle of Movia Puro Rosé during a break from our recording session in May. We didn’t have a punch bowl so we used the sink in the studio’s kitchen. Björn is a veteran Air Guitar champ: check out his website.

Resolution of the Brunello controversy? Let’s hope so…

The Italian minister of agriculture will hold a press conference tomorrow to announce the resolution of the Brunello controversy. Click here to read my translation of his press release.

Stay tuned… and let’s hope that this mess will finally be resolved… Speriamo bene…

The Fourth, San Diego style

Do they go… to some faraway archipelago?
Nah, they go to San Diego.
– Mel Tormé
“California Suite” (1957)

Although an op-ed contributor in The New York Times pronounced the “American road trip dead” on Sunday, I know a lot of folks will still be hitting the highway this fourth of July weekend. In case you’re heading down San Diego way, here are some of the joints I’ve been hanging out at. (For details, click on the boldface for the website or if no website, I’ve included address and phone.)

Italian is spoken at Mamma Mia in Pacific Beach, where Francesco and Cinzia Mezzetti serve delicious handmade panzerotti and pizze (with perfectly seasoned, crispy crust). I love Cinzia’s flower power t-shirt.

The 2004 Produttori del Barbaresco Barbaresco (classico) is very reasonably priced at Mamma Mia. I head to Mamma Mia whenever I wish to indulge in my number-one guilty pleasure: pizza and Nebbiolo.

Mamma Mia
1932 Balboa Ave (where Balboa and Grand intersect)
San Diego, CA 92109
(858) 272-2702

Arturo offers me a traditional Spanish porron at Costa Brava in Pacific Beach. The porron — an expression of friendship and revelry — is used liberally at Costa Brava, where the Spanish food is authentic and tasty and the wine list (arguably the best Spanish list in San Diego) includes modern and traditional choices. Owner and Spanish wine fanatic Javier Gonzalez grows Tempranillo in a planter in the back (I’m not kidding). He also runs a great Spanish cheese and charcuterie next door. No place in San Diego is more friendly.

Dashing French Chef Olivier Bioteau at the Farmhouse in University Heights has one of San Diego’s deftest hands in the kitchen. The food is excellent and the francophile wine list, although not ambitious, has some interesting lots. I really like the farmhouse chic vibe but I’d love to see what Olivier could do in a four-star setting.

My friend Jon Erickson disgorges a bottle of 2000 Movia Puro Rosé at Jaynes Gastropub, my standby dining destination in Normal Heights (adjacent to University Heights) in San Diego. As Jon’s wine program continues to evolve, I can always find something I want to drink at Jaynes: most recently, Bertani Valpolicella and Caprari Lambrusco. Namesake Jayne Battle’s haute pub food always hits the spot.

Jay Porter’s Linkery in North Park, San Diego (a stone’s throw from Jaynes) recently moved around the corner and will reopen on July 10. Eat-locally and think-globally Jay is San Diego’s undisputed king of “organic,” “market fare,” “sustainable” cuisine and he’s also one of the city’s top food bloggers. If you’re looking for socially conscious and politically engaged fare, this is the place to go.

How to describe the Pearl? In self-described “vintage-modern” style, the owners of the Pearl took over a 1960s-era rundown motel near the U.S. Naval Base in Pt. Loma, San Diego, and turned it into a hipster, poolside hangout and restaurant and lounge. The food is a little affected at the Pearl (”Deconstructed Nachos” anyone?) and the wine list too modern for my palate but the scene can’t be beat. The night I was there, they were screening old episodes of Get Smart poolside.

The first time I walked into Wine Steals, also in Pt. Loma, I thought I’d been transported into a parallel universe: I found myself in classic San Diego down-and-dirty, get-your-drink-on bar where wine has usurped the supremacy of beer. Using a formula seemingly unique to San Diego, you purchase bottles at retail prices and then pay a small corkage (hence the name “Wine Steals”). The extensive wines-by-the-glass program features affordable, quaffing wine. Is wine the new beer? There’s another Wine Steals (the original) in Hilcrest and the Pt. Loma edition is located in the old (and now obsolete) second-world-war era Naval telephone hub.

In nearby Ocean Beach, The Third Corner Wine Shop and Bistro is my favorite San Diego “neighborhood” wine bar. Although it also caters to the Silver-Oak-guzzling wine-is-the-new-cocktail crowd, it offers real wine lovers like me a number of solid choices (like Joly, Produttori del Barbaresco, and Tempier, among others). The food is not great but the wine prices keep bringing me back: combining retail and on-premise sales (like Wine Steals), Third Corner lets you purchase bottles at retail prices and charges a small corkage to open them at your table. The owners just opened a new location in Encinitas, North County San Diego.

They still make a mean Mai Tai at Zenbu in La Jolla. Zenbu has lost some of its local charm as the owner, my high school buddy Matt Rimel has moved on to bigger projects, the prices are high, and the beach-bunny waitstaff could use a crash course in old-fashioned hospitality, but its raison d’être remains unchanged: locally sourced fresh fish prepared by “extreme sushi” chefs (live clams and prawns are often offered) with a California flair.

Dante inspires a wine and gets a welcome (?) home after 700 years

Dante made the Italian news wire the other day — yes, Dante Alighieri (1265 - 1321; how’s that for a boldface name?), author of La Commedia, an autobiographical and politically charged allegorical poem written in terza rima, or rhymed tercets, divided into three canticles (Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso), in which he recounts his exile from Florence (1302) and his journey through the center of the earth (with Virgil as his guide) to heaven where he is received by his beloved Beatrice, who in turn guides him to the Virgin Mary and his salvation. Earlier this month, only 700 years after the fact, Florence rescinded Dante’s exile, thus allowing for the poet’s remains to be returned to the city on the Arno river. The back story: the Florentines want to wrest the body back from the city of Ravenna, where Dante died and his tomb is a major tourist attraction, most likely because they’d like to see those tourist dollars (and euros) spent at home. (For a concise overview of Dante’s life and work and details of his exile, please do not use Wikipedia; use the excellent Princeton Dante Project and for closer reading of La Commedia, use the Dartmouth Dante Project.)

In the light of this news, I was all the more intrigued by a wine I came across the other day called “Bello Ovile.” The expression il bello ovile (the fair sheepfold) comes from Canto 25 of the Paradiso, and is a metaphorical reference to Dante’s youth in Florence:

Should it ever come to pass that this sacred poem,
to which both Heaven and earth have set their hand
so that it has made me lean for many years,

should overcome the cruelty that locks me out
of the fair sheepfold where I slept as a lamb,
foe of the wolves at war with it,

with another voice then, with another fleece,
shall I return a poet and, at the font
where I was baptized, take the laurel crown.

(Par. 25, 1-9)

Next to his lifelong quest to free the Italian city states from the yoke of papal power and to restore imperial (temporal) power, Dante desired nothing more than a glorious return to Florence and his laureation there, i.e., his crowning with a laurel and recognition as poet laureate (in fact, he never returned). “The font [spring] where I was baptized” refers to the famous Baptistery of San Giovanni (left) that you surely remember from your Renaissance Art History 101 for its gilded doors (and the competition to cast them, won by Ghiberti and lost by Brunelleschi). After he was exiled from Florence, Dante found his first “welcome” and “refuge” in Verona under the protection of the Veronese seigneur Cangrande della Scala. In the Paradiso (17, 70-72), Cacciaguida (his great-great-grandfather) tells Dante:

You shall find welcome and a first refuge
in the courtesy of the noble Lombard,
the one who bears the sacred bird above the ladder.

In 14th century Italian, Lombard denoted an inhabitant of Northern Italy and the “sacred bird above the ladder” is a reference to Cangrande della Scala’s coat of arms, a ladder (scala) with a black eagle (an imperial symbol) atop. Dante’s son Pietro Alighieri settled and remained in Verona: today, Count Pieralvise Serego Alighieri continues to make wine there, in one of the oldest historically designated vineyards of Valpolicella, Armaron (many believe that the toponym Armaron is the etymon of Amarone; I’m a fan of Alighieri’s Amarone, which he ages in cherry wood).

When Serego decided to buy an estate and begin making wine in Tuscany, he viewed the move — rightly — as a return to his ancestor’s “sheepfold” even though the wine isn’t made anywhere near Florence: it’s made in Montecucco, a wonderful, undiscovered and still undeveloped part of Tuscany, to the west of Montalcino toward the sea, where you’ll find all sorts of artisanal pecorino (sheep’s milk cheese) producers, grape growers, and fantastic norcini or pork butchers (when I was there year before last, I had some amazing head cheese near the village of Paganico).

It will be interesting to see how the fight over Dante’s remains plays out and in the meantime, I’m glad to see that Count Serego decided to use indigenous grapes in his homage to his ancestor Dante: Bello Ovile [BEHL-loh oh-VEE-leh] is made primarily from Sangiovese, with smaller amounts of Canaiolo and Cilliegiolo (it retails for under $20). The wine is done in a modern style, fruit forward, but judiciously enough so that it still expresses the grape variety.

Bello Ovile would have tasted foreign to Dante: in his day, Sangiovese was not considered a grape variety for fine wine and wines were much lighter in color and body. Of Italy’s three “crowns” of the Middle Ages — Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio — Petrarch wrote more and most famously about wine. There’s a famous passage in Dante about Vernaccia and the eels of Lake Bolsena, but I’ll save that morsel for another post.

Some clarification on the title of La Commedia…

Dante called the poem La Commedia but he never called it “divine”: Boccaccio, one of Dante’s greatest commentators and the author of an early biography of Dante, called it “the Divine Comedy.”

In the context of Dante’s poem, the title Comedy does not denote humor but rather the fact that poem has a happy ending (as opposed to tragic) and — most importantly — is written in Italian rather than Latin. In a letter to Cangrande della Scala, presenting the poem, Dante wrote: “in the conclusion, it is prosperous, pleasant, and desirable,” and in its style “lax and unpretending [undemanding],” being “written in the vulgar [vernacular or Italian] tongue, in which women and children speak.”

Father of the Italian language…

Dante is often called the “father of the Italian language” because the immediately and immensely popular Comedy became one of the primary models for literary Italian and ultimately — together with the Italian writings of Petrarch and Boccaccio — became the basis for the national language of Italy (which first emerged only in the late nineteenth century).

Dante in translation…

The most recent translations have been published by top Dante scholars Robert Durling (Oxford University Press, 1996 [2003]) and Mark Musa (Indiana University Press, 1996 [2004]. For readability, I’ve always been a big fan of the translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1892-1893). From a purely exegetic point of view, I always prefer Charles Singleton (Princeton University Press, 1970-75). Allen Mandelbaum’s excellent translation (Bantam Books, 1980) is one of the more inspired renderings in my opinion and Robert Pinsky’s “verse translation” of the Inferno (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1994) was an interesting experiment in “translation as performance.”

Breaking (good) news: Antinori’s 03 Brunello released by Italian authorities

It’s not entirely clear what went on “behind the scenes” but Marchesi Antinori has become the first Brunello producer — of the 5 officially known to be suspected of adulteration — to announce that its 2003 Brunello will be available for sale as early as next week. Read the whole story at VinoWire.

Although the question of when Brunello producers will be given “guarantee” letters by the Italian government remains unclear (nor is it clear which arm of the government will issue said letter, now required by the U.S. government for Brunello imports), the news of Antinori’s green light seems to be a very positive step in the right direction.

I, for one, am very relieved to see that the Brunello controversy is beginning to subside and I look forward to drinking 03 Brunello by all of my favorite producers.

In other news…

Above: Grilled Mahi Mahi tacos and 1989 Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia at my favorite taco shack, Bahia Don Bravo, in Bird Rock (La Jolla), CA. Click on image for centerfold.

I finally convinced my favorite taco shack to let me bring my own wine: last night Irwin and I opened 1989 Lopez de Heredia Viña Tondonia (white) with our grilled Mahi Mahi tacos. Irwin was really blown away by the Lopez de Heredia, noting that “there’s nothing about this wine that I don’t like.” It was showing very well, with nice acidity, nuanced fruit, and judicious alcohol — perfectly balanced.

Bahia was packed last night and we were lucky to find a table for two. Irwin really dug the Viña Tondonia, saying that it was “the best white wine I’ve ever had.” I have to say that it is one of my all-time best white wines, too.

We also drank a 2003 Vignalta Gemola, a Bordeaux-style blend made in the Euganean Hills outside Padua, where Petrarch spent the last years of his life compiling and editing his life’s work. It didn’t show as well as other bottles I’ve opened.

Bahia Don Bravo
5504 La Jolla Blvd
La Jolla, CA 92037
(858) 454-8940

Asimov wins Veronelli prize

New York Times wine columnist and author of The Pour, Eric Asimov, has won the prestigious Premio Veronelli (Veronelli prize) for “best food and wine writing in a foreign language.” Also nominated for the category were Michelle Shah and Gilles Pudlowski. Eric was the only American to receive an award at the third annual Premio Veronelli ceremony held in Milan last week.

Last week, Veronelli Editore announced the winners of the third annual Premio Veronelli or Veronelli prize, an award inspired by the life and career of Luigi Veronelli (1926 - 2004) — the architect of Italy’s current food and wine renaissance, and one of Italy’s most controversial and influential food and wine editors and writers.

Although not nearly as commercial in scope, the Premio Veronelli is the counterpart of the U.S. James Beard Foundation Awards. Its 16 categories include prizes for best restaurateur, winemaker, olive oil producer, distiller, and food and wine writing among others.

The Veronelli prize committee praised Eric for “courageous independence” in his writing and his “profound knowledge of Italian wine”:

Writing “from the prestigious platform of The New York Times, food and wine critic Eric Asimov has maintained courageous independence in his opinions, which often lie outside the mainstream. Although not a wine writer in the strictest sense, he has shown profound knowledge of Italian wine. And he has voiced his greatest appreciation when, unhindered, it expresses the terroir where it was born.”

Widely read in Europe, Eric’s column in the “paper of record” became a hot topic earlier this year in Italy when he was mistranslated by an Italian newswire service: according to the erroneous report, he had called Barolo the world’s “sexiest wine.” An article in Italy’s national daily La Stampa compounded the misunderstanding when it asked noted winemakers to comment on a declaration never uttered by Eric. Click here to read my post on the Sexy Barolo affair.

Congratulations, Eric! It’s great to hear that the voice of American wine writing (and wine blogging) makes a difference on the other side of that great misunderstanding that we know as the Atlantic ocean.

Summer of Love Spaghetti

Above: the Rice-A-Roni treat? No, just a cable car at the Embarcadero in San Francisco — a synecdoche for this beautiful city.

After the California Supreme court overturned the state’s ban on gay marriage in May, the summer of 2008 was dubbed the new “Summer of Love” by the American media.

I was born in the original summer of love (1967) and this year’s summer solstice (technically my 39th since my birthday is in July) found me with my band Nous Non Plus playing an outdoor show at the Embarcadero in San Francisco thanks to the SF Alliance Française (who had us open the SF edition of the Fête de la Musique). Following our midday show, I met up with my high school buddy and fellow partner in wine crime, John Yelenosky (left), who happened to be in town, and we headed over to what has catapulted to the top of my list of favorite Italian restaurants in America — Delfina.

The Wine Sorceress — a very discriminating eater — has always raved about Delfina’s Spaghetti al pomodoro and so I had to have them.

“Spaghetti with plum tomatoes, garlic, extra virgin olive oil and peperoncini” at Delfina (SF), otherwise known as Spaghetti al pomodoro. As much as I loved Delfina, they could use some Italian proofing on their menu: “peperoncini” are small hot peppers while “peperoncino” (not a countable noun) is “chili flakes” in American culinary speak. “With peperoncini” would denote a dish accompanied by whole peppers (not advisable).

Just as panna cotta is a Litmus test for any Italian chef, Spaghetti al pomodoro is the acid test for true trattoria cuisine. And Delfina’s rendering of the dish passed with flying colors: the spaghetti were perfectly firm in their mouthfeel (al dente) and the sauce had just the right balance of garlic (just a hint), salt, and spice. I paired with one of my broken-record favorite wines, Movia 2000 Puro Rosé: our waiter disgorged the bottle in the kitchen (since the tight space doesn’t allow for for table-side dégorgement) and the wine showed beautifully (see above left).

Fregnacce with fresh Louisiana shrimp were also very good, the handmade pasta firm in the mouth, the sauce not overly salty, the shrimp tender.

Risotto milanese with oxtail ragù in the summer? An odd menu choice if you ask me, but delicious nonetheless, although the rice grains were slightly overcooked and had lost their integrity (wholeness).

“Northern halibut baked in a fig leaf with Brentwood corn, fingerling potatoes, and tarragon-caper butter.” The fish was delicate and flaky, perfectly cooked. Corn with fish? Not very Italian (more reminiscent of Peru, no?) but the flavors blended together perfectly, the mouthfeel of the corn a wonderful complement to the tender fish.

The nice lady on the left was celebrating her birthday at Delfina at the table next to us.

The prices at Delfina were moderate, the wine list small but very good, the service attentive and informed, and the room warm and comfortable (if a bit crowded). It’s hard to get a table at Delfina but easy to understand why. Beyond the food, wine, and service, what I really liked about Delfina was its simple, pure approach to Italian cuisine. Although there are some classic not-very-Italian bistro choices on the menu (e.g. hanger steak with French fries), the truly Italian dishes were done in a respectfully traditional manner, with a deft hand, and with an emphasis on the materia prima. It reminded me of a contemporary osteria in Milan, the type of place I might dine with my friends from my university days who now all work in publishing. A nice balance of urban chic and true flavors. Highly recommended…

After dinner, John and I met up with fellow wine dude Bill Rosser (whom I know from my New York days) at the Tonga Room in the Fairmont Hotel. The Tonga Room is a trip: it’s a Tiki bar where the band performs in the middle of the room in a boat in a pool. When the band begins to play, sprinklers come on and give the room a “tropical” feel.

A friend of drummer Harry Covert shot and shared this video of our show.

TTB guidelines for Brunello importers

This morning, my friend, top Italian wine blogger Alfonso Cevola (On the Wine Trail in Italy) sent me a link to the Alcohol Tobacco Tax and Trade bureau’s new guidelines for Brunello importers. According to the circular, importers must now submit a statement from the Italian government “attesting” that the wine meets Italian appellation regulations. It’s not clear how U.S. importers will obtain required documentation for Brunello coming in after June 23 (that’s Monday!).

Check out Alfonso’s insightful, futuristic (post-apocalyptic, really) post on Brunello.

In other news…

My friend Alessandro Bindocci of Il Poggione (one of my favorite Brunello producers) just launched a blog called Montalcino Report “devoted to the vines, wines, people, and life in Montalcino and Sant’Angelo in Colle.”