Espresso: or, Woman Cannot Live on Wine Alone

I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop, feeling the urge to write but not feeling inspired (see the previous post…maybe I had better get a bottle…or two…of the Writer’s Block!). I’m enjoying one of the tastiest caffe lattes I’ve had in a while along with an excellent scone. No wonder I don’t feel like writing about wine! It’s hard to extol the virtues of one (addictive) beverage when you’re in the throes of another.

So I’m going to write about espresso. The more I think about it, the less unrelated the two beverages are, really. They’re both near and dear to my heart as products of my two favorite places on Earth…Italy and the Northwest. Italy is undoubtedly the birthplace and capital of espresso; Seattle is its American home. Italy knows a thing or two about making and enjoying wine, and we’re getting pretty good at that here in the Northwest, too. Then there’s the pleasure factor. You don’t drink wine or espresso because you’re thirsty, you drink it because it makes you feel good (even better when consumed responsibly). You drink these drinks because they taste good, they’re complex, and because no two hardly ever taste the same (certain “critter” brands—kangaroos, mermaids—excepted). You can’t say that about a can of soda or a bottle of macrobrew.

Espresso and wine build community. I’m sitting here in this coffee shop, watching people hang out and talk, mugs in hand. People are taking walks around the neighborhood with friends and sipping from their telltale paper cups. People meet for coffee all the time. How often do you hear people say, “Hey, let’s meet over a soda/grapefruit juice/sparkling water sometime soon?” It’s always coffee. With the exception of tea, I can’t think of any other beverage that can command the center of a social gathering. The same is true for wine, although generally as part of a larger culture of alcohol. Meeting for drinks or happy hour doesn’t indicate wine exclusively. Meeting for beers is pretty common, and cocktails and other specialty drinks can lubricate a conversation just fine. But the wine bar culture is growing steadily, and more places offer flights of wine, glass and bottle specials, and wine and food pairing menus.

Wine and espresso are both versatile. Seriously. The right Italian wine can take you through an entire dinner. Sure, you can pair each course with a different wine, but that can be expensive. Italian wine is meant to be had with food, and most good Italian wines should be balanced enough to handle almost anything you serve with it. (I’m not talking about exceptionally light whites like a Pinot Grigio or exceptionally hearty reds, like a Barolo. But if you have a Barolo, you better be building the meal around the wine!). Next time you’re at a restaurant and want to order a bottle for the table, try a Dolcetto d’Alba or a Barbera. It will pair nicely (although probably not perfectly) with what most of your table orders, from pasta to chicken to a lighter red meat course.

What I was thrilled to discover in Italy is that espresso bookends your day perfectly. Start your day with a cappuccino (before 10 am, please, and never after!), and end with an espresso or macchiato. I’m serious. I am a convert to the faith of espresso as a digestivo—plain shots of espresso enjoyed with dessert or after the meal as a digestive aid. It seemed kind of problematic, at first, to consume that much caffeine that late at night, but the espresso really settles your stomach after a large meal. I wouldn’t dare order a decaf espresso in Italy, but I might be bold enough make that request here at home. If I really didn’t want that much caffeine, well, hey, what are dessert wines for?

***
I have a feeling I’m not finished with this topic. In the meantime, get yourself a good latte or a nice glass of wine. I’ll be back.

Writer's Block, or, There's a Wine to Cure Every Malady

It’s been too long since I’ve written about wine. I can chalk it up to being busy, and that’s true to some extent. I’m attempting to launch my own business, we have an old, fussy house that needs lots of attention, and we recently acquired a new, feisty puppy that requires even more attention. But these are basically the same, tired excuses we all use to assuage our guilt about whatever it is we’re not doing enough of—gardening, reading, working out, you-name-it.

In all honesty, though, there’s been part of me that just couldn’t figure out what to write about. I’m in danger of becoming a one-note siren on Italian wines, and there’s only so many of my own personal experiences that other folks want to read about. I could write up a few mini-reviews of some of the wines I’ve had lately—some people have mentioned that they’d enjoy reading those, and perhaps I’ll do some in the near future—but I’ve been in the mood to write something more, well, substantial.

Inspiration came to me from the best possible source—a restaurant wine list. While out to dinner to celebrate my sister-in-law’s birthday, I was perusing the extensive wine list, trying to decide what I was in the mood for. I was feeling indecisive; I couldn’t even choose “red or white?” much less “light, or full bodied?” “fruit forward or restrained?”

And then, the wine list chose for me. It told me that I had to have the 2005 Lake County “Writer’s Block” Syrah. This was a wine that I wouldn’t ordinarily have chosen. If I drink Syrah, it will likely be either a Rhone or a Washington. California Syrah, like Australian Shiraz, is generally not my preferred style for the varietal. But sometimes we judge a book by its cover and it works out.

The Writer’s Block was one of several wines we shared at the table that evening, and it was generally agreed to be the crowd’s favorite red. It had the deep, crimson velvet color I expect in a New World Syrah, and the strong, integrated notes of berry and spice that warm your palate without overpowering your food. Aged in oak, the wine also hinted of cocoa and coffee, especially on the nose and on the finish.

We didn’t discuss this wine much, other than to conclude that it was the best of the table’s reds. I’s consider ordering it again. It was a good wine, though not excellent, and it did its job well. It engaged my palate and enhanced my dinner. It reminded me that assumptions (“I don’t like California Syrah,”) are made to be tested and, hopefully, revised.

And it cured my own bout with Writer’s Block…for now.