It’s similar, but not quite as grand, as the scenery in a ride at Disneyland.  As native Southern Californians with season passes, my wife and I visit Storybook Village several times a year.  I’ve always wanted one.

We live in a townhome with no proper yard.  There’s a patio, but the planter space is limited.  A miniature garden, then, seemed like just the thing…

With my last post before we embarked upon our 11-day adventure in Epcot, I urged readers to get a special bottle of wine and Take Some Time with it.  In so doing, I snuck in a couple of pictures of my own little developing horticultural hobby.  To my surprise, they got more reaction than most of my wine ramblings.

Admittedly, that was several months ago.  Well, better late than never says I.  Welcome to Diminishire (you can click through for larger photos).



The unseen residents of Diminishire are tiny, but tidy.  Wood piles remain neatly stacked outside cottages.



Lawns are green and trimmed.



Flower beds are (mostly) weeded and there’s even the occasional gnome.



The English garden is a popular attraction on the west end of town, it’s brick-lined gravel paths leading to the cottages of its quiet residents.



Or you can head past the gazing ball, through the arbor trellis, past the birdbath and beyond the garden walls.  The gravel path becomes cobblestone and just over the bridge lies the pub, while the manor atop the hill surveys it all.



When the weather’s nice, some prefer to sit outside the pub.  Take a bench beneath the apple tree.  I can’t be sure, but I strongly suspect the innkeep has been brewing cider with a kick from the windfalls.  If I listen closely at night, I can hear the revelry brought on from strong drink.

I made the trellis myself, but most of the accessories come from a couple of my favorites sites.  For the budding miniature gardeners out there, you really must visit Two Green Thumbs and Little Landscapes.  The cottage buildings themselves came from Design Toscano.

Then just walk around your local nursery.  Look for plants with small leaves and flowers.  Most of the difference between a shrub and a miniature tree is in the trimming.  Ground cover often works well for low flower beds.  Irish or Scottish moss makes a good lawn or grassy field.  Alyssums trim nicely into row hedges.  If you have an Armstrong’s near you, check out their Steppables section.  There’s all kinds of miniature-looking things there.

And don’t forget the herbs section.  Look closely and you’ll find authentic chamomile, dill and curry growing within the realm of Diminishire.  What do you know?  I think I just brought this post back around to Farmer’s Markets!

Having tasted at their booth earlier, I was interested in further exploring the cuisine of Morocco.  Lucky for me, my wife had booked us a reservation that night at the Restaurant Marrakesh.

Amidst a tropical breeze, we arrived to the gentle susurration of palm fronds punctuated here and there by the clink of dinnerware and the occassional whiff of roasted meats.



The dining room was a study in intricate detail.  Inlaid wood beams checkered the ceiling.  Carved stucco reliefs bordered the walls.  Tile mosaics ran throughout the interior and the place was lit by stained glass lanterns filigreed with the most delicate wrought iron lace.

Going over and over the menu, I couldn’t decide on just one thing.  With my luck holding true, I found the answer to my dilemma across from the entrées on page two: the Taste of Morocco Royal Feast.  Oh boy, sign me up!



My feast began with Harira Soup, a traditional brew of tomatoes, lentils and lamb.  On the side was a Beef Brewat Roll, layers of papery pastry stuffed with seasoned minced beef, fried, and then sprinkled with cinnamon and a bit of powdered sugar.  The chunk of bread came off a hearty, brown multigrain loaf.

With an eclectic mix like that, pairing a wine seemed nigh impossible.  But from the wine list came this description for a Beni M’tir Rouge Amazir: “A dry and full bodied wine whose ruby red colour has depth and subtlety.  A highly fragrant nose of almond, citrus peel, orange marmalade, fig, mixed spice (cinnamon, mint).  Very elegant and seductive, generous, dense and complex.  A voluptuous, fine wine to be savoured slowly.”

It was as interesting as the first course.  The aromatics in the wine blended nicely with the seasonings in the food.  It was a bit tart and thin for what I would expect from a claim of voluptuousness.  The acidity was fine against the tomato soup.  I just wouldn’t sit down with a glass unless there was food to go with it.



The main course was more like three courses in one.  A platter-sized oval plate landed before me with a thud that may have been my jaw following it to the table.  This is for one person?!?  Royal Feast, indeed.  I was raised to always finish what’s on my plate.  Just looking at this mass of food had me groaning before I started.

It was good, though.

On the left was the Roast Lamb Meshoui, a Moroccan tradition -  slow roasted lamb shank in natural juices.  It was so tender that the meat slid off the bone with just the caress of a fork.  On the right was a full breast of Lemon Chicken, braised in a rich stew of seasoned garlic, green and black olives, and perserved lemon.  And in the middle had been heaped a hill of couscous, a Moroccan national dish of tiny steamed semolina pasta served with steamed carrots, onions, squash and chickpeas.  It was all very savory and afterwards I felt royally stuffed, but the Feast included Assorted Moroccan Pastries so I wasn’t done yet.



I’ll confess I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the dainty bits of dessert presented.  I’d already popped the top button of my jeans halfway through the couscous and was quite sure there was precious little room left in my distended gut.  Some royal mercy, at last.

I got two small squares of a Moroccan baklava.  The phyllo was light and flaky, sandwiching layers of honey and chopped nuts.  At the top of the plate was something like a Moroccan rugalach, a denser roll of dates, figs, brown sugar, cinnamon and more chopped nuts.

When all was eaten and done, I could have used Mr. Wonka and his whistle to summon a host of Oompa-Loompas to roll me away.  It was good enough that I’d go back, but next time only for the lamb entrée like my better and wiser half had done.  She wasn’t in pain at all…

The grapes used for the Guerrouane Rouge are all traditional blending partners in the French appelation of Languedoc-Roussillon, which sits on the southern coast as the closest region of France to Morocco.  That seems fitting since the climates are most likely to be as close as possible.

The pairing, rather than being simply red wine for red meat, was more of a mild wine for mild food.  Neither the hummus nor the beef was heavily spiced.  This incarnation of Rouge kept the fruit subtle.  Together, they resulted in a lighter snack than I had expected.

I was intrigued by the Moroccan menu.  Fortunately, it was not to be my last encounter with African cuisine for Dinner #9 awaited…

My wife’s entrée  was the Split Roasted Half Chicken with Rice Pilaf, Almond Cranberry Polonaise, and Maple Vinegar Sauce.  Her report?  “Yummy!”

I moved on to a glass of Cakebread Chardonnay (Napa) and so stayed with white wine food.



The Chardonnay was even bolder than the first.  It kept pace nicely with the strength of my main dish’s sauce.  I got the Pan-fired Black Grouper with Aged Balsamic Roasted Asparagus, Sweet Onion Marmalade, and Citrus Juices.  The citrus in the food keyed similar notes in the wine while the sweetness in the marmalade tarted up the drink.  It worked, but ended up being a very different pairing than my first course.

I’d love to get back there someday before the menu changes.  It was a real toss up for what to order and I’m still missing what I didn’t get: Pan Roasted Duck Breast and Venison Sausage with Celery Root Puree, Natural Reduction, and Currant-Chili Jam.  But, it can’t be time to plan the next meal until you’ve finished the one you’re at.  That required dessert!



If there’s one thing that can occasionally pry my wife off of a dark chocolate dessert, it’s bananas.  And a Banana White Chocolate Toffee Tower on Cocoa Almond Cookie and Bananas “Foster”?  Just the thing.

I went festive with a Pumpkin Cheesecake with Gingerbread Crust, Pumpkin Seed Brittle, and Brandied Pear Glaze.



Each bite was pre-diabetic bliss.  It put me in the mind of Thanksgiving and Christmas combined.

No doubt about it, if ever you venture out Disney World’s way, the Brown Derby belongs on your short list of essential feeds.

It was a zesty morsel of ground beef in a noodle blanket.  The yogurt sauce was buttery, creamy and tangy.  To go with it, Disney’s Sommeliers had recommended the Selection Beyaz White.

The Beyaz is a blend of Narince and Sémillon.  It’s dry, citrusy character made a perfect partner to the lively tang of the yogurt sauce, not unlike a Sauvignon Blanc would.  That makes sense.  Sémillon is the traditional blending partner of Sauvignon Blanc in white Bordeaux.  This was one of my favorite pairings.  Surprising, unusual, and right.

Working my way west, I encountered Greece.  In addition to their food and wine booth, they had another dedicated just to the bottled produce of their ancient vines.



The Greeks shared their wine culture with the Romans and the conquering Romans, in turn, instilled vines and their own drinking ways into the whole of Europe.  From Europe to the New World.  None of that, I would discover, meant that modern Greek wine would be recognizable to a native Californian.  A couple of thousand years of clonal cultivation will do that.



The Boutari Naoussa was a full-bodied red made with 100% xinomavro.  Don’t feel bad.  I never heard of it, either.  The wine was described as having “good acidity.”  I found it tart to the near point of face-making.



It came paired with a savory spinach and cheese Spanakopitta.  The pastry was nice.  And while I’ll admit that it does sound very Greek for a wine to have the “very intense aroma of olive, cedar, tomato juice, spices and mint,” I personally consider most of those things to be off-notes in vino.  Not even a hint of berry?  Really?

I had room for one more taste before dinner.  Carrying my Mediterranean tour ever westward, I went from Dionysus to Bacchus and landed on the coast of Italy.



Home to another permanent pavillion in the World Showcase at Epcot, Italy® comes with its own piazza.  You get a tower, marble columns, and stone arches!



And it wouldn’t be Rome® without a fountain, right?  Good ol’ Neptune helps keep up appearances.



For the Festival, Italy’s booth served up the classics.



There was Insalata Caprese, Lasagne, and Cannoli.  These came paired respectively with Pinot Grigio, Chianti, and Moscato di Asti.



What I wanted was the Pizza.  I survived the lion’s share of my school life on little else than beer and pizza.  Many a pie has gone the way of this here gut, but standing there pondering that menu with rumpled dollars in hand, it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve never once had a slice with wine.



In this case, it was more of a square.  Make that one brick of spongy, deep-dish Fennel Sausage, Bell Pepper, San Marzano Tomatoes and Mozzarella to go, please.  To drink, there was Cecchi Chianti Classico.  Lively acidity followed by bright red fruits and a bit of earthiness.  That and a spicy tomato base, a timeless combination.  The older me says, “Who needs beer?”

You haven’t finished the Mediterranean until you’ve put Gibraltar in your rear view mirror, but that would have to wait another day.  I needed what was left of my appetite for the upcoming Dinner #8…

Yes, Shula is Don Shula of Miami Dolphins fame, the team he led to a pair of Super Bowl victories.  Hey!  Waaaaait a minute.  Dolphin resort?  I just got that…

As you might expect, Shula’s makes no bones (except maybe T-bones) about its status as a red-blooded American steak house.  And if you didn’t expect it, the cart full of Saran-wrapped slabs of supper they wheel up tableside will definitely set things straight.



I had an inkling this might be a worthy feed, so I thought I would go light with a house chopped salad.  What I got was more than just the tip of the iceberg lettuce.



My leafy Matterhorn came snow-capped with tangy, crumbling Bleu cheese.  Above the timberline it was diced red onion and leaning heavily on the side were two mammoth planks of Beefsteak tomato so fresh and rich they were sweet.  A light rain of balsamic and fresh-cracked pepper was all that was needed to bring life to the mountain.

My wife fared no better in her pursuit of temperance than I.



Her French onion soup arrived hermetically sealed beneath a caramelized cap of Gruyère.  Carving her way inside, she found a broth so thick as to be more aptly described “onion stew.”

With those starters cleared from the table, our waiter presented us both with gleaming serrated weapons whose purpose was clear.  We steeled ourselves to make war on the bovine species.

For me, rare is the only way to go with steak.  The better the cut and the more I trust the chef, the rarer I like to go.  When the waiter asked me how I wanted my filet done, I held up my hand and swept my fingers outward dismissively.  “Just have him walk it by the fire.”



What I got was pure meat fantasy in every butter-braised bite.  I hardly touched the dish of herbed Bernaise, though the side of sautéed onions and forest mushrooms was just the accompaniment.

To wash down the quintessential American bloodfest, you need a Napa cab.  I ordered a 2004 half-bottle of Darioush.  It was thick with dark berries and the firm tannins cut cleanly through all the fat.  A perfect match.

Khaledi Darioush is an Iranian immigrant who grew up in Shiraz, the place that lent its name to the grape and a wine growing region of Iran until the Islamic revolution.  Now Californians receive the gift of his passion for wine.

No good steak house dinner is complete without dessert, and cake follows meat like, well…meatcake.



I couldn’t fumble the camera out of my pocket fast enough to capture it in its pristine state.  My wife was all over this classic rendition of a chocolate lava cake like a bulldog on a meat truck.  Gutted and bleeding its molten chocolate innards, she dressed the carcass in vanilla buttercream sauce and had at it.

I think the only thing missing was a pair of wheelchairs to get us out of there after it all.

Thank you, Don.  It was both touchdown and extra point.

[originally posted on Tableau Vivante]

Theme Park means park food.  Disney World is just for kids.  And Disney sommelier?  Well, that’s just an oxymoron, right?  You wouldn’t be alone if you thought so, but you’d better think again.

Last October my wife and I attended Walt Disney World’s 12th Annual International Food & Wine Festival at the Epcot World Showcase.  By day we visited attractions and attended the festival.  By night we feasted in as many of the Signature Dining establishments as we could get reservations in.  We had an absolutely amazing time, and I’ve been blogging about it ever since.

Please join me now for a series already in progress that began here.

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I’d done North America from Canada to Mexico.  I’d been through South America by way of Chile, Argentina and Peru.  My tour of the southern hemisphere was rounded out by visits to Australia, New Zealand and South Africa.  On Day #7 of our trip, I woke up with dreams of the Far East.

 

Across distant oceans lies the world’s most populous nation and what Anthony Bourdain has called the mother of all cuisine, China.  In Epcot, it’s also home to a permanent pavillion in the World Showcase.



Chinese culture has affected western ways far more than the reverse.  Architecture or noodles?  Take your pick.



But one thing China hasn’t been traditionally is a wine culture.  The presence of its booth at the festival intrigued me.



I’d experienced South Africa’s chicken skewer and Chardonnay combination, so when I saw the same pairing here I decided to give it a try.  In this case, an authentically Chinese Chardonnay from the He Lan Mountain appellation was offered.



My Chicken Sha Cha came in a peanut sauce, and it was done just right with chewy edges and a juicy center.



After a bite, however, the wine seemed…undersaturated.  That’s polite, euphemistic winespeak for watery.  Onward, then, to my next stop: the island neighbor of my last.



Home of another permanent pavillion, your arrival in Japan is definitively marked by a 5-story pagoda with shingled eves as blue as the sky.  Here, you enter the serenity of gardens alive with the watery chatter of small falls emptying into shallow, rock-lined pools, and the occasional splash of a playful koi.



For the festival Japan, too, had a booth.



They may call sake “rice wine”, but to me its just grain alcohol by another name.  Show me the fruit!



Introducing: Takara Plum Wine.  It was dessert wine sweet, but not heavy.  Like plum nectar with a kick, it was elegant and balanced without any of that wineyness you might be inclined to associate with fermented fruit.  It came paired with a classic spicy tuna roll.

As I’d come to learn, what each booth really offered the interested visitor was a chance to experience a professionally arranged pairing.  Some bite matched with some sip in a way that was intended to better the both.  The secret for wine with spicy food is a bit of sweetness.  As incongruous as it may seem, one the best partners for a sizzling plate of Thai is a chilled, off-dry Riesling from Germany.

Rounding out my tour of the East was the nearest of the Far.  India’s booth burst from the bushes like a bull elephant.  There’s more to Asians than Orientals.



Here again I was on unfamiliar territory.  Indian wine?  Remembering Ms. Vivante’s affinity for France’s white lady of the Loire, I knew what to chose: the Chenin Blanc.



In this case, it was a Sula Vineyards Chenin Blanc estate bottled in Nashik, India.  I found it to be rich with fruitiness.  It was one of the more memorable wines I encountered at the festival, one worth looking up back home.  Though you’re not likely to find it in the grocery store or even a wine shop, you can get it on eBay.  From the winery: “Semi-dry, refreshingly light wine bursting with fresh, fruity characters which make for a delightful aperitif.  Pair with food that has a hint of sugar and spice, such as Southeast Asian or Gujarati dishes.  Serve well chilled.”

For the festival, Sula’s dance card was marked with a deep-fried Samosa (spicy pea and potato pastry) and Tamarind Sauce (just the “sugar and spice” called for).  Quite nice.

Another successful day at the festival, with a blog-worthy dinner yet to come!

[originally posted on Tableau Vivante]

A while back a friend of mine asked me what I thought would make the ultimate $100 cellar. Fancy wine’s not cheap and there’s so much good stuff to chose from. I thought about variety and balance. You’d need some reds, of course, but also some whites. You’d want to be able to pair with different kinds of food.

After much deliberation, I came up with the following list:

• Turnbull Estate Grown Cabernet Sauvignon ($34), an amazingly rich, fruit-forward cab that rivals competitors at twice the price
• Mollydooker Shiraz ‘The Boxer’($20), classic Aussie Shiraz concentrate almost sweet with oak vanilin
• Rombauer Napa Valley Chardonnay ($27), heroin for Chardonnay addicts
• Van Volxem Saar Riesling ($17), delicious off-dry lemon and apricot that pairs with almost anything

That got me up to $98. Say what you will, but there’s really no other choice for that last $2: the infamous Two-Buck Chuck itself…

• Charles Shaw Cabernet ($2), smooth and easy drinker consistent across vintages

Okay, new vintages have been released since I originally priced this list and some have gone up. But still, it was a perfect $100. I’m a genius, right?

Then I thought about it some more…

Why cellar a wine? Why buy something years in advance of when you intend to consume it? Unless you invest in wine only as a commodity, the answer is to age it. The wines I picked were very enjoyable, ones that I’ve personally tried and bought again for myself. They all could age, but they didn’t need to age.



As wine sits in the bottle, it is not in stasis. Chemical reactions are in constant flux. This enzyme consumes these precursors to produce those results. Another compound simultaneously breaks down into a unique set of others. This goes on endlessly, in a thousand different ways all at the same time. Thus the wine’s composition, and therefore its character, change over time.

That’s complicated enough by itself, but here’s where it gets interesting. Every one of these reactions occurs at a rate that is affected by temperature…differently. Store a wine for a year at 76 degrees and you end up with concentrations of A, B, and C. Store it for a year at 66 degrees and you get D, E, and F. Let it cycle between summer and winter room temperatures and you get still another set of results. The wines you can end up with are as infinitely varied as the conditions you might store one in.

Why age a wine at all? A controversial, and therefore good, question. The short answer is, you should only age a wine if it needs it. Young wines can have an edge to the vibrancy they enjoy. You age to mellow, to round those edges and to integrate flavor, acidity, and texture. Ageing can, of course, be over done. While tannins (a flavorless chemical that provides velvety texture and grip) will soften over the years, so will fruit weaken. Your goal is balance, harmony of both flavor and feel.

The caricature of wine meant to be drunk young is one of simplicity (not always true, in my opinion, but that’s a discussion for another day). A wine built for ageing, on the other hand, promises power, complexity and finesse in one package, like a professional football player gliding his way effortlessly through an intricate waltz.

Such a wine may be nigh undrinkable in its youth. In anticipation of how it will fade, the fruit may be over the top. Think Welch’s with alcohol. It may be bitter with acid, stemmy with herbal notes. It’s tannins might pucker you up until your mouth feels like it’s been upholstered in corduroy. Ah, but when the thing ages those flavors and feels melt into synchronicity. It all slides together in a way that just can’t be duplicated right out of the barrel.

Sure, you can just buy vintage wine. But, it’s more expensive that way. The effort and patience to age costs money. Prices rise on a given wine year after year while availability falls. Wine Spectator’s wine auction index has outperformed the stock market’s DOW over the entire span of its keeping.

If you want to experience the best wines at their best, you can most afford to do so by ponying up the cash now and cellaring them yourself for later.



So now I want to change my answer.

What I’d originally done was choose something more like my own ultimate $100 gift basket, not a cellar. Cellaring requires patience. To be the most fun, a cellar should represent a series of prized acquisitions over time. Think of your cellar as a hobby. Give it the care and researched consideration that any collector would, because that’s really what you’re talking about: becoming a collector.

As such, a one-time infusion of cash won’t suffice. You need a budget. Without permission, I re-worked the conditions of my assignment. I gave myself $100 per year to spend and went back to my lists. Understanding that nothing is more personal than taste, here are a few of the candidates that would be on my short list if I had but a Benjamin with which to build.

• 2004 Turnbull Estate Grown Cabernet (20/20 Wine, $47) - 95pts, Connoisseurs’Guide: “…shows no shortage of youthfully gruff tannin. It is built to get better for a number of years, and it comes with a recommendation for five to eight years of cellaring.” 
• 2005 D’Arenberg Shiraz The Dead Arm (LaBodega Wine, $56) - 95pts, Robert Parker: “Full-bodied, opulent, and super-concentrated, this structured, lengthy wine will benefit from 3-5 years of cellaring and drink well through 2025.”
• 2004 Concha Y Toro Don Melchor Cabernet (20/20 Wine, $55) - 94pts, Robert Parker: “It makes a youthful entry on the palate with layers of black fruits, mouth-filling flavors, a plush texture, with plenty of ripe tannins to hold this big wine together. The finish is long and pure. The wine demands 8-10 years to show to full advantage and should drink well through 2032.”
• 2005 Plumpjack Estate Cabernet (20/20 Wine, $85) - 92pts, Robert Parker: “…full-bodied, chewy effort displaying copious aromas of lead pencil shavings, black currants, blueberries, licorice, charcoal, and spice box along with a hint of new oak. This beauty should unfold gracefully over the next 5-7 years, and last for two decades or more.“
• 2005 Domaine du Vieux Telegraphe Chateauneuf du Pape La Crau (B-21 Wine, $65) - 95pts, Robert Parker: “…full-bodied, powerful, concentrated wine reveals fabulous purity as well as a finish that lasts over 45 seconds. Purchasers of this beauty will need patience. Anticipated maturity: 2012-2025.”

Refrigerated wine cabinets for every size and space can be found here at Wine Enthusiast. Or, if you’re a big shot, get a custom walk-in cellar. Alternately, check out International Wine Accessories’ selection.

Obviously you can’t get all the wines shown here for just one year’s budget of $100. Choices must be made, priorities determined, and some things put off until next year. That, my friends, is your exquisite dilemma.

Enjoy!