Though currently attempting to optimize my in-person wine experiences, the latest was a pure coincidence. In a meeting of the stars, life would have it that a dear friend of mine from Chicago would be visiting Paris in November, near the time when I needed to schedule a business meeting. As we finalized a date, he mentioned how lucky I was to be in France for the "Beaujolais Nouveau". Huh?
So, the research begins. Beaujolais is a region in France, south of Burgundy and Nouveau stands for "new". Simple enough. This is one of the few red wines they do not age to maturity, letting the juice ferment for just a matter of weeks from harvest until the third Thursday in November when they pop barrels all over France, especially the South, to toast the season's harvest.
Let me be clear ... this stuff is terrible. Any self-respecting Frenchman raises their nose in horror when you mention you drank the stuff, let alone came into the country just to celebrate it. I kept my comments to a minimum in the meeting the day after. Kind of like saying you love Colt 45.
Still, I am not a wine snob who limits themselves to only the superb, this is about breadth of knowledge as much as depth. I did some quick searching for events in Paris and found a street party that seemed the best option. On my walk over, I ran across a small wine shop with a huge barrel in the window and decided to pop in. Turns out, they were literally filling the bottles, corking them, and smearing the labels on right there! How exciting! Honestly, it wasn't too bad ... and at 5 Euro, I bought a souvenir bottle.
Perhaps I was spoiled by that experience. As I walked up, there was a door with possibly a thousand bottles of wine lined up behind. I grabbed one and gave it a shot. My first thought was, "this ... is ... the worst wine I have ever tasted". Eh, I'll give it another try.
Second try, it was still horrible. So, that experience is complete. However, I still had a weekend in Paris to share in friendly conversation and explore France's culinary adventures, like jellied seafood terrines.
My Mom has been a collector of the "blue plate" for as long as I can remember (really, I can't remember when all this started). These blue plates are collector's Christmas plates from a company called Royal Copenhagen, out of ... you guessed it!
The company has issued a plate each year commemorating the holiday, and my Mom and I have spent numerous pleasurable afternoons browsing various locations one might find such a plate ... delighting when we found one, snarling when the price was ridiculous or it was the all too prevalent palm trees (right, you see a lot of those in Denmark). She has completed quite a collection over the years, and as a collector often does, come to the point where only the very special will have the privilege of being added to the collection hung around the soffit of the kitchen.
Myself, as I consider weekend getaways in the colder months, like to focus on city trips, where you wonder the stone streets, not taking concern of the chill because the crisp in the air and views are so sweet.
Nordic cities certainly fall into this genre, so I have been keeping my eye on Copenhagen because of its sentimental value, and closeness to the sea and Sweden. I was considering a visit for the Christmas markets, but when I saw "Europe's largest flea market" I was booked in a heartbeat. I decided to do a solo trip ... only Mom could truly have the endurance and enthusiasm to power through this like I wanted.
I took the after work flight Friday night and had enough time to drop off the bag and go grab the local Christmas beer, Tuborg Julebryg (interesting fact ... their marketing campaign is one of the oldest still utilized today .. cute!).
However, there was no time for play, as I needed to get off to bed to wake early, grab a coffee and an amazing cinnamon roll and get off to the Loppemarked (Danish for "huge room of amazing vintage goods!")
What can I say ... it was delightfully full of mod Danish furniture and kitchen bits, loaded with Royal Copenhagen, not only blue plates, but figurines and the like. I picked up a few items, including a bag of licorice (and if I would have had the means would have picked up a lot more). After four hours I wearily made my way back onto the Metro into town for the second half of the day exploring the city.
I went for a light lunch of Smorgasbord ... my first round of pickled herring, which given my DNA is a delight. By that time it was already dark (like 4P) so I wondered the cobbled streets looking at shops, listening to street musicians, and passing by the mecca Royal Copenhagen flagship store. {Don't worry Mom, noooothing to be seen there). Did you know legos were invented in Denmark? They were.
Went back to the hotel to get purty for my fancy dinner (which you can read about here), stopped to see some bad 80s music after , and then to bed again for Sunday was another big day! Up early again to grab the canal boat tour for an hour before heading off on the metro again to see the food market and eat everything in sight!
I know I am all about food, pretty much all the time, but they had their herring served on the seagull plates from Royal Copenhagen. Awwww! And huge chunks of Danish blue cheese ... yeah, that came home with me along with a gorgeous piece of smoked salmon covered in dill. And don't get me started about the sweet rolls with cardamom ...
Copenhagen is a beautiful little harbour city, where you can still see the life of old salty fisherman, yet experience the surge they had in the 70s specifically around architecture and design. When I go up north I feel a sense of identity ... people are kind, clean, eat healthy appreciate nature ... and are punctual!! My flight boarded early both times on Scandinavia airlines!
Noma restaurant, Copenhagen has been voted the best restaurant in the world the last three years. As soon as I knew I was heading to the city for Europe's largest flea market I started writing emails and attempting to secure a booking. Crickets. Copenhagen has no shortage of Michelin-rated joints, so after a bit more research I opted to spend my evening of culinary delight at AOC.
Like Noma they are also known for utilising only local, in season ingredients (i.e. foraging the nearby forests for juniper berries and thyme) and serving them with visually stunning presentation. The menu is seven courses with a wine pairing at each course (!!!!). The food and wine on their winter menu were out of this world, but this is also designed to be "an experience".
Here's a little on how mine went, as a solo diner at a Michelin star restaurant: Soul is smiling big, anticipation is bubbling. I'm looking around the simple creamy room to take in every detail - in fact what I notice is absence of detail - only candles on the white table clothes and mod Danish lighting and serving trays. It is located in the lower level of a restored historic building, so the archway details make the room. I notice everyone is looking at me, trying to figure out who I am - feeling both a little sad for me and at the same time overly intrigued to meet me. I suppose it must be odd for an extremely beautiful woman to dine alone at their place (:-)); I imagine they think I must be somewhere between royalty, movie star, and acclaimed food critic. Let them wonder. Da da da ... Time passes and the servers begin to whisk out a precise series of five starters that come before the meal accompanied by the crispest, fluffiest champagne ever. Each is a single mouthful - little jerky served on a twig, some other crunchy bit, tartar, pistachio cream filled milkskin (?), duck fat broth (eek). As you do, I listen to other people's low chatter and my own thoughts intermingle with theirs. Heard a girl say "Cuba". I want to go to Cuba, but I want to have long hair and a base tan and, well, be 26. I saw that flight out of Tampa to Havana. Did they change the travel restriction? Who comes to places like this? Well I guess now I do. I think I like this crowd (well except that girl in the grape satin dress and string of pearls that keeps saying "like"). Sophisticated but not snooty, money but not showing off, taking pictures of every plate like me. I see a Dad and his smart, you-raised-her-well daughter, a couple so comfortable they must be on their 50th visit, two Arabic men doing business, a younger couple more in my genre of "wow can't believe we're here, what is that?" Most surprising thing for some reason is that every plate was delicious, and that I didn't leave hungry. I tasted each and every herb leaf (lemon verbena!), the brisket was as tender as I've ever had. I wont go into the detail of every plate, but the skate dish with caviar was the prettiest dish I've seen plated. I was served by the owner and sommelier himself (a move done I'm sure just in case I was the head writer for Food & Wine). Ballsy wine list. For me the wine pairing was as much as a treat as the food. A tangy Austrian white and the reds were all out of this world, strong, berry heavy, exactly my taste - Russian River valley Pinot (served with a truffled Jerusalem artichoke I will soon be attempting to replicate), a couple Frenchies to go with the brisket and duck plates, and closed with a Danish cherry wine served with juniper ice cream. Ta dah! The owner was really young. By "really" I mean, younger than me, wise beyond his years. I know a bit about wine, but this dude has 100 vintages of champaign on his menu (and I mean bubbly from the exact boundaries of the region) not just a long list of anything white with bubbles in it. His depth of knowledge and experience seemed beyond his years. I did decide to offer my feedback on his greatness, and also my constructive criticism that his cloudy, organic white wasn't my taste. When he said it paired well with yoghurt and cabbage my confidence was reinforced. I heard that day that 60% of Americans are one pay check away from poverty (this glutinous meal could have fed someone for months). I'm not really sure who I am right now. I mean, I know me, but I am growing and changing and I'm letting my limits have no bound for a while. We as humans (at least some of us) have a bad practice of looking at others we envy and thinking lucky for them, or subconsciously that we're not worthy, that life is for someone else, that we have to stay within some sort of pre-defined boundary. Fuey. You are who you make yourself to be. Despite others' raised eyebrows, I was exactly where I was meant to be that night and I walked out feeling somewhere between royalty, movie starlet, and acclaimed food critic.
Wikipedia: Day of the Dead (Spanish: Día de los Muertos) is a Mexican holiday celebrated throughout Mexico and around the world. The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and family members who have died. The celebration takes place on November 1 and 2, in connection with the Catholic holidays of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day. Traditions connected with the holiday include building private altars honouring the deceased using sugar skulls, marigolds, and the favourite foods and beverages of the departed and visiting graves with these as gifts. They also leave possessions of the deceased. I have always enjoyed the artistic creations associated with this celebration, so colourful and detailed, joyous yet sad. It is this day of remembrance that is root of America's Halloween ... which derived from Hallow's Eve, the night before All Souls' Day. A friend of mine posted a celebration in London's Old Vic Tunnels hosted by one of the city's Mexican foodies and headlining the Mexican guitar duo Rodrigo y Gabriela ... all factors made this a sure win. I decided this would be my "Halloween" celebration this year, and set out to plan a traditional Dia de los Muertos costume for the event. Makeup, dried roses, and some fabric, trim, and lace to make a skirt. The Old Vic Tunnels are a very cool venue, underneath the current Waterloo train station, consisting of a series of cavernous, damp brick train tunnels that you arrive at by walking down a long graffiti covered tube. The hosts decked it out with various haunting art installations, performing artists, creepy silent movies, and thousands of candles. Complimentary gauc and tacos came with the deal, and they were serving up Jasmine Margaritas. Everything was top notch. It was quite a hoot to be all decked out in dress, and people responding quite nice to our costumes! I have loved Rodrigo (and I guess his lovely partner as well) for quite a while, and it was exciting to see them play in such a great scene. I have included a video typical of their music, as well as a slideshow with some pics! A great memory was made ...
Though currently attempting to optimize my in-person wine experiences, the latest was a pure coincidence. In a meeting of the stars, life would have it that a dear friend of mine from Chicago would be visiting Paris in November, near the time when I needed to schedule a business meeting. As we finalized a date, he mentioned how lucky I was to be in France for the "Beaujolais Nouveau". Huh?
Perhaps I was spoiled by that experience. As I walked up, there was a door with possibly a thousand bottles of wine lined up behind. I grabbed one and gave it a shot. My first thought was, "this ... is ... the worst wine I have ever tasted". Eh, I'll give it another try.
