Park Avenue Liquor Shop Debuts Exclusive Tequila

Park Avenue Liquor Shop, the Manhattan liquor oasis, has been in the exclusive whiskey biz for some years, carrying various one-of-a-kind whiskey bottlings, some sources from Tuthilltown's stores and bearing the store's own name.

Now the Goldstein family, which has owned Park Avenue for 50-plus years, is getting into the tequila biz. The shop has acquired what it claims is one of only three existing barrels of tequila from Casa Noble CEO Jose “Pepe” Hermosillo. These casks are known as his “friends & family” barrels and, sez Park Avenue, have never been commercially available. 

Casa Noble Single Barrel Extra Anejo Tequila Aged 7 Years was bottled exclusively for the store. It is certified organic and, in case that weren't enough, Kosher for Passover. The 80 proof, 750ml bottle will retail for $100 is available for purchase now. Only 300 bottles are available. I have tasted a sample. It's dark in color, very smooth, and has a kind of Cognac quality, with all the concomitant flavors. 

The unusually old tequila (by comparison, regular Anejos are aged a minimum of one year) is aged in a single French white oak barrel, made from 100% Blue agave, and triple distilled. Single-barrel Tequila—you don't see that much.

Two Single Malt Scotches Go Kosher

Glenmorangie, the Highland Single Malt Scotch, has been at the forefront of a lost of Scotch movements in recent years, including the drive to experiment with barrel aging behind the usual regimen of used Sherry and Bourbon barrels.

Now, the distiller can crow about another first: Earlier this month, Glenmorangie became the first Single Malt Scotch to be declared kosher. The second to claim such a distinction, Ardbeg, a peaty Islay scotch, followed close behind. Both whiskies are owned by Moët Hennessy.

The distillery and every stage of the distilling progress was inspected by a rabbinical authority, one who will return every six months to make sure everything is on the up and up. The kosher certification is only for Glenmorangie original and Ardbeg original. Other expressions of Glenmorangie will never get the kosher nod, as they are aged in barrels that formerly contained wines and fortified wines like Sherry, Sauternes and Port.

How Many White Russian Variations Does One Need?

To commemorate the 55th anniversary of the White Russian first appearing in print (who knew?), Kahlua has hustled up four modern spins on The Dude's favorite cocktail.

Now, I'm pretty much OK with there just being one White Russian out there, but I admit to becoming curious when I saw one of the recipes came from Greg Seider of Summit Bar, whose work I like. But, to be fair, I'm printing all four here. Be prepared: there are a ton of eggs involved, and instructions are lengthy and difficult on three of these. (Double boiler? Really?) In fact, two of the recipes actually seem to be desserts, not drinks. Not that there's anything wrong with that. The same could be argued about the White Russian itself.

Moscow in Mexico
Created by Mixologist Gregory Seider of Summit

1 part Kahlúa
1 part Absolut Vodka
1 shot of espresso
1 half part walnut liquor

Directions:
Combine all ingredients into metal cocktail shaker and add ice. Hard-shake for 10 seconds and double strain through tea strainer into martini glass. Using aerolatte milk frother, froth cold milk and spoon on top of cocktail. Top with cardamom powder.

Kosher for Passover Gin

What is permissible to drink at a Passover seder is terribly important to me. Having a Jewish wife, I am assured of attending two seders every year, and something is needed to get one through those four-to-five-hour ceremonies. 

I don't think I alone in my desperation. Otherwise, why would people be inventing things like Kosher for Passover gin? Obviously, there's a call for such a product. And No. 209 gin out of California was the first to answer it. The new gin bows this year. I wrote about it for Tasting Table:

A More Spiritual Spirit

The drinking options at the seder table keep getting better and better.

In the dark ages, the only option was sticky-sweet Manischewitz. Then a quality revolution gripped the wine world, and the seder's ceremonial cups became less of a trial and more of a pleasure.

Now, thanks to Distillery No. 209's new Passover-friendly gin, spirits lovers have something to celebrate.

To make kosher gin a reality, master distiller Arne Hillesland replaced No. 209's usual base spirit with a sugarcane vodka from a kosher-for-Passover distillery in South Africa.

Hillesland further altered his recipe by replacing cardamom (a no-no for Passover, since the herb comes in a pod) with California bay leaf, which has a strong menthol flavor. The resulting gin is similar to the standard 209, but the kosher version has a slightly sharper flavor and more viscous mouthfeel.

The costly process of making a kosher alternative--which includes hiring a mashgiach (a kosher supervisor) to oversee production--raises the price to $39 a bottle, about $4 more than the regular No. 209. But so far people have been willing to pay the premium: Hillesland says sales have been brisk.

So this year, have a martini (or one of these cocktails) with your matzo brei. Just remember to mix it with kosher-for-Passover vermouth--yes, it does exist.

—Robert Simonson

No. 209's usual base is corn-derived.

To ensure that the California Bay Leaf Hillesland used in the gin was kosher, and wasn't touched by any suspect machinery, the distiller actually picked the leaves from the trees himself.

The Kosher-for-Passover No. 209 will only be available in New York, New Jersey and California this year. Hillesland made 800 cases. He thinks they'll sell.

LeNell Smothers Makes Good on Mexican B&B Pledge

I was in Prime Meats recently, talking to bar manager Damon Boelte, when the name of his former employer, liquor store owner extraordinaire LeNell Smothers, came up. Last we heard from Smothers, she had closed her famously well-stocked Red Hook liquor store and announced her plans to move to Mexico (!) and open up a cocktail-oriented bed and breakfast (!!). When that news came out, I—and I expect, others—received it with a certain amount in incredulity. But Damon said she had indeed gone and done it. So I looked into it.

Indeed, the joint has a website and everything. It is called Casa Cóctel, and is located in La Paz, near the tip of the Baha California Sur peninsula. Smothers has opened the place with Demián Camacho Santa Ana. The house is five blocks from the beach in Baja California Sur, and can accommodate six guests (with one bedroom done up in "brothel red").

A Drinking Man's Guide to Passover

If you or your spouse (or both) are Jewish, and you observe the traditions of Passover (as we do in my home), you know that the preparation for the eight-day holiday involves ridding you home home of Chametz. Chametz means bread, grains, corn, all sorts of starch.

(The drinking reader here takes a moment to consider this before light finally breaks. "Wait a minute?" he cries. "That includes most of my booze!")

That's right, imbibers. Passover is basically the enemy of cocktails, and most straight liquors in general. Kiss your scotch, bourbon, rye, gin, tequila and vodka goodbye. Even if you're pretty sure that your vodka is solely distilled from potatoes (which are OK for Passover), if it doesn't have "Kosher for Passover" printed on the label, a lot of Jewish households are going to let it in the door. And it goes without saying that your old friend "liquid bread"—beer—is banished for the duration.

So how do you get through such an ordeal? (Besides cheat, and get your drinks outside, which I'm not saying I've done, and not saying I haven't done.) Well, of course, there's wine. And, as I've stated before (though people still don't seem to get it), there are many, many good Kosher (and Kosher for Passover) wines out there. I had a few during the first and second seders, including the Capcanes Peraj Petita from Montsant, Spain, which was excellent. But there are plenty of disappointments along the way as well. I had a fairly old kosher Bordeaux which I thought would be a treat, but turned out to be tight and nondescript. I also sampled an honest-to-goodness Kosher for Passover Vintage Port, which I was very excited about. But it was disappointing, rather insipid in flavor and lacking in depth or real character.

There are increasingly some odd exceptions on the liquor market. Carmel make a KFP vodka. Many Slivovitz brands (plum brandy) pass muster, because, for some reason, religious Jews can't get enough of this paint thinner. KFP tequila would have been unheard-of a few years ago, but now there's Casa Vieja, both Anejo and Blanco, which goes for $49 and $39, respectively. That means—yes—you can have a Kosher for Passover Margarita. Now, there's a seder enlivener!

And there's also Flor de Cana Gran Reserve 7-year-old Rum, the only rum with a Kosher certification. I'm fudging a bit by including it here, since it's not Kosher for Passover, but, for less exacting households, it might be perfectly fine. Why Flor de Cana went to the bother to get this certification, I don't know. But it certainly sets them apart.

The 7-year-old is a sipping rum, with a caramel nose. The taste is smooth and silky, with a candied beginning, followed by caramel, vanilla and wood. My main complaint about it is the finish, which just drops off. But otherwise, it's quite pleasurable.

Some Recommendations for Passover

I contributed this item about good candidates for the seder table to Time Out New York's The Feed blog. Do yourself a favor: find a bottle of the Bazelet Hagolan. You'll never regret buying kosher again.

It seems only right that the best kosher wines should come out of Israel. Yet it’s only in the past ten years that the country has caught up with the rest of the wine world in terms of quality. And lately—at least in the increasingly competitive kosher field—it seems to have surpassed it.

During the past year, nearly every great kosher wine I’ve tasted has come from Israel. And most of those have been either part or all cabernet sauvignon. The Promised Land seems to have a way with this noble grape. It is the most widely planted red varietal there and the one that culls the most prizes for the country’s winemakers. No wonder. Its best cabs rival anything California has to offer in fruit and drinkability, and tend to trump that state in terms of structure and a sense of terroir. Here are few bottles certain to honor your Passover table. (Note: All are kosher for Passover, but none are mevushal—the stricter form of kosher certification that requires the wine be briefly boiled.)

Bazelet Hagolan Cabernet Sauvignon: Established in 1998 in the Golan Heights, Bazelet Hagolan has quietly been making some of the best cabernet sauvignons in Israel. The area’s high altitude and volcanic soil have doubtless contributed to wines of surprising depth and age-worthiness. In past years, I’ve thought the baseline cab a better buy than the unfiltered reserve, but with the 2004, the $40 reserve is worth every penny. Blackberry, dark fruit, tar, tobacco and green notes linger on in a profoundly long finish in this beautifully balanced and complex wine.

Flegmann Cabernet Sauvignon 2006: The Flegmann family has a long winemaking history, producing in Hungary as far back as the 18th century. The tradition was recently picked up again by a new generation and relocated to Israel’s Judean Hills. This is the first vintage of the new regime and it’s an impressive debut. Purple-black in color, with blueberry and clove on the nose leading to a medium-full, fruit-forward palate of ripe bing cherry, a bit of tar and more blueberry. Smooth, easy and accessible. $32

Shiloh Cabernet Sauvignon 2005: Shiloh is another newcomer to the Israeli wine world—the 2005 is its second vintage—and it’s already doing fine work. The lovely medium-light ruby-colored lines give off scents of currants, vines and green peppercorn. That green theme continues on the tongue as flavors of currant and the blueberry that seems to be a keynote of many Israeli cabs are countered by both red and green plum and vegetal notes. Smooth, but not slick, with tempered tannins and a complex aftertaste. $27

Segal’s Cabernet Sauvignon Special Reserve 2004: Segal’s has been making wine for decades now and recently has scored some high marks with critics. This Galilee Cab is a silky number, with raspberry, ripe currant and mellow cloves on the palate. The flavors are a bit too extracted and overproduced, but it’s an enjoyable wine nonetheless, and good for the price. $17—Robert Simonson

75 Years of Resumed Drinking in America

Dec. 5, 2008, was the 75th anniversary of the repeal of Prohibition. And so parties were thrown. Dec. 5 is the liquor biz's Independence Day, its Bastille Day, its May Day. And the industry's pro go at it with the same combination of seriousness and frivolity with which they attack every occasion.

I attended a party sponsored by DISCUS at The Back Room, perhaps the most difficult to find of all the neo-speakeasies in New York. I recognized it as the former home of Lansky's Lounge, a joint run be scions of Ratner's kosher restaurant during the late '90s and early '00s as a last ditch effort to save the family business. You descend a flight of unpromising stairs on Norfolk Street near Delancey, walk through a dank subterranean alley, and go up another flight of metal stairs and open a door to the right.

As the Back Room, the decor is much plusher and upholstered. Decadent Victorianism, I'd call it. Large oil paintings, fireplace, fabric on the walls, etc. There were various drink stations at which men in vests and arm garters were serving up Probition-era cocktails in white porcelain tea cups. A smart jazz trio played on the upper floor of the split-level pad. And historian and journalist David Wondrich was on hand to make a batch of bathtub gin. Instead of raw alcohol as his base, DISCUS had provided him with vodka, to which he added essence of juniper or some such. What kind or vodka? "I don't know," he laughed. "With vodka, I'm not too particular about the brand." Too true. (However, it looked like Skyy as the brand being utilized.)

I tasted the result. Kind of reminded me of Bulldog Gin. I'm not kidding.



I sampled a variety of drinks, including a Girl Friday (unfamiliar to me, it contained gin, sloe gin, lime juice and couple other things) and a regular Manhattan (to which the bartender added his own homemade, marinated Maraschino cherries. He might have warned me that the cherries still had their pits.) In news that will break the hearts of the folks over at Riedel—who would have you believe that the glass makes a big difference in the enjoyment of the drink—none of these libations tasted the worse for wear for being serves in tea cups. They were delicious across the board.

The best drink of the night, however was the Mary Pickford, served by this gentleman below. It contained light rum, pineapple juice, grenadine and Maraschino liqueur, shaken over ice, strained and garnished with a bourbon-soaked cherry (no pit). This was a frothy treat, light, flavorful and potent. Nice to see America's Erstwhile Sweetheart getting some attention.



In attendance were Southern Spirits man Allen Katz, Pernod's Shawn Kelley, and journalists Julie Besonen, Liza Weisstuch, and Michael Anstendig, as well as many brand ambassadors of all stripes.

Nice Choice for the New Year

Goose Bay of New Zealand has made a nice reputation for itself with a couple decent kosher versions of Sauvignon Blanc and Pinot Noir, the two varietals for which the island nation has become renowned. The Sauv Blanc has has become a particular favorite among the kosher crowd, being both toothsome and affordable.

Now, Goose Bay has come out with a 2007 Pinot Gris, it's first stab at this great. I was skeptical upon opening it, but was stunned when it turned out to surpass the Sauv Blanc in quality. This is a beautifully balanced wine, full (well, fullish) and rich from its brief exposure to a bit a oak—and due to the natural tendencies of the grape—which does well in cool climates; and yet with a subtle minerality in the finish. The palate has lemon, lime, pear, eucalyptus, vegetal notes and honey as it warns up. Some may call this a flaw, but it offers no impediments between itself and enjoyment. It's an easy wine to like. Yet there's nothing simple about it.

The price is just under $20. Kosher wine just keeps getting better.

If This Is Spring, It Must Be the Passover Wine Article

It is spring, when a wine writer's fancy turns to thoughts of the annual Passover wine roundup.

Few articles in the yearly wine-writing cycle are as predictable as the avalanche of kosher wine surveys that appear each spring. I am no exception to the rule, so here is my take on what your should buy for your seder, printed in Saveur.com:

Kosher Keepers
by Robert Simonson

In February, Manhattan's Puck Building was host to the second annual Kosher Food & Wine Experience, an industry event at which kosher-wine makers from around the world present their wares to distributors, wine store owners, critics, and the general public. This year the hall was abuzz with talk of a recent appraisal of Israeli wine that had appeared in über wine critic Robert Parker, Jr.'s influential publication The Wine Advocate. Printouts of the piece were handed out to the crowd like candy; winemakers touted their cherished scores of 90 or above to anyone willing to listen.

Kosher-wine makers have long had a self-esteem problem, mostly because the term kosher itself bears a stigma. To many minds, it still means sweet, unsophisticated, substandard; it denotes a wine that is a cultural product first, a culinary one second. The campaign to have kosher wines placed on an equal footing with nonkosher wines has been on for some years, but it got a big boost from Parker, without whose blessing few wine regions, vintners, or vintages ever truly arrive. The Wine Advocate article (actually written by Mark Squires) awarded more than a dozen wines from Israeli makers scores between 90 and 100.

Parker and Squires's findings came as no surprise to people who have observed the progress of kosher wines over the past decade, however. As with every winegrowing area in the world and every once underrecognized varietal, the march toward quality has been steady, as growers race to meet the demands of an ever more discerning wine-drinking public.

My wife if Jewish, so I have had a steadier acquaintance with kosher wine than perhaps most wine writers can claim. Every Friday night, a kosher bottle is needed for our table. At Passover—when we typically spend both seders at the homes of friends—the search is ratcheted up: we require a wine that will ease our way through the long, often tiring ceremony. What's more, many of our Jewish friends have also begun upping their standards; to them, serving a bottle of insipid kosher wine at the holiday table is no more acceptable than passing a jug of Gallo at a fancy dinner party.

In the past, with some work, I have always been able to find a wine that made for satisfying seder drinking; one that possessed the qualities I look for in any bottle I buy: balance, structure, minerality, and a minimal reliance on oak aging and aggressive fruit-forwardness to furnish its personality. It took a little doing, but it got done. What has changed recently is that the search is no longer a chore. I can now easily recommend a dozen kosher wines off the top of my head. What's more, I'd recommend them for everyday drinking, not just once a week (or once a year).

Most of my favorites come from Israel, whose producers are clearly now at the forefront for quality kosher vino. Smaller vintners dedicated to limited output, minimal technological interference, and old-world (typically French) models are making wines that compare favorably with the output in other wine-producing countries. The French kosher wines, in fact, could learn a lot from their Israeli counterparts, in my opinion. Many of the French koshers I sampled tasted like drab imitations of nonkosher models, whereas the best Israeli koshers possess their own, vibrant personalities. What follows is a list of Passover wines that will make the four mandatory cups a pleasure to drain and may find a place on your wine rack thereafter.

Binyamina ($16)
This vintner makes a great many wines, but I was the most impressed with two of its chardonnays—the Chardonnay Reserve 2004 and the Onyx 2004. Both keep a clear distance from the popular fruit-and-oak California style because the wine is left on the lees (the skins) for a time; that lends them a pungency and bite. The Onyx comes from a single vineyard and shows a corresponding focus.

Bartenura Prosecco ($18)
Kosher champagne is either wretched or terribly expensive. If you want bubbly at your seder, go for this enjoyable prosecco, a wallet-friendly crowd-pleaser.

Weinstock Cabernet Sauvignon Cellar Select 2005 ($20)
Goose Bay Sauvignon Blanc 2006 ($20)
Some Passover imbibers will insist on mevushal wine—a subset of kosher drink that involves the juice's being flash-boiled. This methd, Jewish law has it, makes it suitable to be touched by non-Jewish hands. Argue all you like; it's simply very difficult to boil a wine and have it come out at the other end with any appreciable depth or complexity. These two—the red from California, the white from New Zealand—are among the mevushals that show the best. Both offer pleasurable drinking and reasonably distinctive flavor. And the prices—both roughly $20—work.

Bazelet Hagolan Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 ($30)
This wine came as a revelation to me a couple years back, when a fellow seder participant just returning from Tel Aviv pulled some out of his suitcase. An outstanding unfiltered cabernet of firm structure and understated fruit, it floored the gathered company with its quality. The 2006 is just as good. The Golan Heights winery, merely ten years old, has been certified kosher only since 2004. There's also a pricier reserve ($45), but the regular cabernet is the better value.

Psagot Edom 2005 ($30)
Psagot does just cabernet sauvignon. It also does just merlot. But this blend (75 percent cabernet/25 percent merlot) is where it hits the mark. The bottle won't change your life, but the wine is a solid, dependable, easy-drinking delight. There is oak here, but it knows its place. Everything is balanced.

Domaine du Castel ($40)
This is the winery that most folks are raving about these days, and no wonder. All three wines the Judean Hills–based company produces—the top-grade bordeaux blend Grand Vin (2004); Petit Castel, also a bordeaux blend, but more lightweight and merlot heavy (2005); and "C" Blanc du Castel, its chardonnay (2005)—are excellent. It's clear that the winemakers are aping French models, but they're doing it well, without seeming like pretenders, and there's character to spare all the way down to the bottom of the glass. These beauties cost $40 and up, and they're not easy to find

Capcanes ($65)
After all my talk about how great the Israel kosher wines have become, here I go praising a Spanish producer! But Capcanes, located in the southeastern appellation of Montsant, is very likely the best kosher wine in the world. The blend of granacha, tempranillo, and carignan found in Peraj Ha'abib has depth, complex fruit character, and well-integrated tannins that make it worth the high price. Still, the producers were smart to bring out the entry-level Peraj Petita this year; it performs like Ha'abib's likable little brother and is more affordable at $18.

Chateau Valandraud 2003 ($500)
If you must be a big shot and also have the wherewithal, who am I to tell you not to honor your seder meal with this beauty, made by the lauded St-Émilion "garagist" Jean-Luc Thunevin? Some call this the best kosher wine in the world. Drop for drop, dollar for dollar, though, I'd still tap Capcanes as the better value. The Valandraud is more ageworthy, of course, but you're not going to age a Passover wine, are you? You're going to drink it in one go.

How Is This Tasting Different From All Other Tastings?

Because it's all-kosher, you putz! Because they have pitchers and a basin at the entrance so you can ritually wash your hands, if you wish. Because the servers must wash out your glass between each taste in order to keep with the laws of kashrut. Because there is tons of food. (What? You're going to invite guests over and not feed them?)

Other than that, and a lot of black hats and beards, it was very much like any other wine tasting: A great deal of dross and some wonderful juice, if you knew where to look. I knew where to look, having gone to last year's Kosher Food & Wine Experience (as it is called). I headed directly over to what were called the "French Wine" tables, and sampled the new vintage of the $500-a-pop Chateau Valandraud, Jean-Luc Thunevin's praised garagist Bordeaux. This was a revelation when I tasted it last year. Frankly, the new 2002 vintage was a disappointment: tight and sour. I'm sure it will mature, but it was no delight at present. A real delight, however, was the news that Thunevin's second label, Virginie de Valandraud, which is much less expensive, is now being made in a kosher version.

Soon after, I headed for the Spanish table, which can only mean the wondrous Capcanes. I believe Capcanes Peraj Ha'abib, a blend of Garnacha, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Carignan, may possibly be the finest kosher wine on the planet. It is deep and juicy and dignified and beautifully structured, with well-integrated tannins. A great wine by any measure. They also had on hand their new entry level kosher, Peraj Petita, which was like an immature version of the Perag. I don't mean that in a negative way. It was simply not as profound, but just as wonderful in its way, and eminently drinkable. The grapes used here are Garnacha, Samso and Ull de Llebre.

The tasting also gave me the chance to try the vaunted Castel brand of Israel. The table was serving up all three labels—Castel Grand Vin, Petit Castel, and Castel "C" Blanc—and there wasn't a loser in the bunch. All three were modeled after the Bordeaux model, and didn't far miss their mark. I returned to some past favorites—the Cab-Merlot blends of Bazelet Hagolan and Psagot—and was impressed once more with how far along the Israel wine industry has come from just a few years ago. New discoveries were the Binyamina Chardonnay Special Reserve and Onyx, another Chardonnay. Both were complex, the former left on the lees for some time and rendered pungent, rich and forceful in the manner of some Friuli whites (I thought), the latter tapped from a single vineyard and showing plenty of tasteful discipline.

Those were the best. Of the rest, something has to be done with the Italian kosher wine industry. Bartenura and Rashi just ain't doing the job. Insipid stuff. As for the Australians—well, they're Australians and not my cup of flabby, fruity tea. The folks at the Covenant table were certainly impressed with their boutique Napa Cab, which has been raking in the review in the last couple years. It was good, no doubt, but didn't knock me over. They kept going on about how the land naturally imparted very soft tannins. Soft they were. Too soft, perhaps. It made an already very fruit-forward wine all the more fawningly friendly. It was a California wine, simply said. And just the sort of thing Robert Parker would like; and he has. They can keep it at $75. I'll stick with the more complex Israeli and Spanish wines mentioned above.

Pinot Goes Kosher

I was sent an intriguing bottle of Pinot Noir the other day. It's by Baron Herzog, the well-known, and well-distributed, kosher label out of California.

What was interesting is this is the first time Herzog has tried Pinot, which makes them a little late to hop on the bandwagon, the varietal being all the rage in Cali for some years now, not to mention Oregon and Washington.

Some may turn up their noses at kosher anything, but I know Herzog to make some good juice when they put their mind to it; some of the high-end reserves are quite impressive. Herzog culls is Pinot grapes from Edna Valley, which lies halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles. The resultant wine is not in keeping with the rich, powerful Pinots of Sonoma, which, it can be argued, is something to applaud. Though north country Pinots are typically over the top. The oak here is not overbearing, showing that it spent equal time in new and neutral French barrels.

This is a light-bodied wine, which a floral nose and and delicate tannin. It's closer to the Burgundy style than the California style, but, at this point, without the depth or sense of terroir (or aging potential) of the French wines. One's tempted to call it a bit inconsequential. But, then, this is a first try, and a decent one at that. Certainly, the wine is an easy companion with food.

At $32, it's a bit overpriced. But, then, so are all Cali Pinots.

In the Cellar at Capsouto Freres

My November edition of the "In the Cellar" column in the New York Sun appeared on Dec. 5. (Don't ask. Scheduling problems.) I was attracted by Capsouto Freres when I heard of the Tribeca restaurant's emphasis on Israeli wines, which, to my knowledge, is singular outside kosher establishments. I spoke with Jacques Capsouto, the world-weary but warm wine director. Here is the article:

An Ambassador of Israeli Wine

Read the wine list at any high-end restaurant in Manhattan and you'll get a good idea of the wine director's likes and dislikes, and perhaps a hint of what kind of food is being conjured in the kitchen. The wine list at Capsouto Frères, the breezily elegant TriBeCa restaurant, however, could be interpreted as a compact biography of its creator, Jacques Capsouto, who, along with his brothers Albert and Samuel, in 1980 installed the restaurant in a remote, former spice warehouse at the corner of Watts and Washington streets.

Jacques and his brothers were born into a French-speaking Jewish family in Alexandria, Egypt, fled in 1957 to Lyon, France, after the Suez War, and then immigrated to New York City four years later. Fittingly, the Capsouto Frères wine list is made up of bottles from only three countries: France, America, and Israel.

American and French wines can be found in almost every restaurant cellar in town, of course. It is Mr. Capsouto's collection of Israeli wines that has caught the attention of critics and imbibers. He doesn't just have a token red and a token white, as is often the case. His 150-bottle selection includes 20 wines from Israel, such as a Yarden Brut Blanc De Blanc sparkler and a Yarden muscat sweet wine, as well as a Dalton sauvignon blanc and Yarden Merlot. (In case you haven't noticed yet, Jacques Capsouto is a passionate advocate of Yarden, whose role in the Israeli wine boom he likens to that of Robert Mondavi Winery in California.)

"I actually had a Yarden on the list, a chardonnay, when it came to the New York market in the early '80s," Mr. Capsouto, who still retains an Old World accent and a certain air of charming Weltzschmertz to go with it, said. But it wasn't until a 2004 trip to Israel — his first in decades — that he discovered the strides the country's wine industry had taken in recent years.

When Mr. Capsouto talks of Israeli wine, he talks of "two evolutions." The first was spurred on by Edmond Benjamin James de Rothschild, a Zionist member of the famous French wine family, who traveled in the 1890s to Palestine and began buying plots of land from the Turks. The acres, mostly along the coast, were then given to local farmers, who planted vines. (Carmel was one of the wineries born at this time.) The second big movement came during the 1980s and continues to this day, paralleling similar drives toward higher quality wine in other countries across the world. Among the newer, generally smaller Israeli wineries now garnering praise and attention are Margalit, Domaine du Castel, and Bazelet ha Golan.

Mr. Capsouto makes it clear that, by supporting the country's vineyards, he's expressing his enthusiasm for the region's wines, not the particular style of wine for which that region is best known. "I'm representing Israeli wines," he said. "I'm not representing kosher wines." He points out that a number of the Israeli bottles on the list bear no hecksher, or kosher certification. "Of the boutique wineries in Israel, about 70 to 80% are not kosher."

The restaurant isn't the first business to bear the name Capsouto Frères. A sign with that legend once hung above a small women's accessories shop in Alexandria. It was run by the siblings' father and his brothers, who specialized in such delicate sartorial luxuries as silk stockings and scarves.

"When we were opening the restaurant, we were trying to come up with a name," Mr. Capsouto said. "My mother came out with this picture of the store and said, 'Why don't you call the restaurant Capsouto Frères?' That's why it's called Capsouto Frères instead of Watts on Washington." Black-and-white shots of the old shop now sit on a table near the restaurant's entrance; the store's wares are advertised on the façade in English, French, and Arabic.

Another bottle on the Capsouto Frères list betrays yet another chapter in the family's story. It's a wine from Gundlach Bundschu, a Sonoma Valley winery with an unwieldy Germanic name and a long history.

"Seven or eight years ago, the Bundschu family was looking at their records and they were trying to figure out where their New York warehouse had been," Mr. Capsouto said. "They had abandoned the warehouse after the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco, when their winery got burned." The ancestors of Bundschu (a Bundschu married Gundlach daughter, thus the name) came to Jacques armed with a couple of king-size blow-ups of old documents and the conviction that the home of Capsouto Frères was none other than their long-lost warehouse. One of the documents was an etching of the 1891 landmark neo-Flemish building. Albert Capsouto pointed out a horse and cart laden with boxes in the foreground of the picture. "That looks like wine to me," Albert said.

Jacques Capsouto was convinced enough to host a tasting that re-introduced Gundlach Bundschu to the New York market a few years ago. He also put one of their wines on his list. Was he, perhaps, being sentimental? He pursed his lips ever so slightly, and replied: "If it wasn't good, I wouldn't put it on the list."

"A Good Shabbat Wine"

That's what my wife crowned the 2005 Psagot Edom red table wine the other night after we had enjoyed a few glasses. Having been to a number of Shabbat meals, and knowing what is usually poured there, I had to agree.

Finding a good kosher wine that stands up as simply a good wine, period, is always a challenge (though not as hard now as it's been in the past). So I always sit up straight when I stumble across one. Bordeaux blends are a dime a dozen in the kosher world, and most are unimpressive, either too fruity or too raw. But this Psagot, which is 75% Cab Sauv and 25% Merlot, is representative of what should be commonplace in this category.

It's medium-bodied at 13.5% alcohol, and has all the usual notes of stewed dark fruit and spice, but all expressed evenly and well. The tannins are sturdy but tempered. It's aged in American and French oak for 14 months, so the vanilla is there, but it's well-integrated and doesn't overpower. The bottle is simply well-balanced in every way.

At $30, it's pricy for a kosher. But worth it, I'd say, for the coming High Holy Days.

Duty Free Discovery

After this post, it's going to seem like I write about nothing else but kosher wine. Sorry, but it's the time of the year.

Anyway, I went to a Seder yesterday and made a major discovery. One of the attendees was a businessman who had just flown in from Tel Aviv and made an impulse buy at the Duty Free shop at the new airport there. The bottle's label was mostly in Hebrew, but someone at the table translated it as Bazelet ha Golan Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve, a wine grown in the Golan Heights region. It was a 2001 and it was the star of the evening. Earthy and complex, ripe dark fruit, its tannins strong but integrated, poised somewhere between Old World and New World cab styles. The color was deep and inky, the nose pungent and tantalizing. Aged in French and American barrels. A simply great wine that married perfectly with the brisket, which has been cooking for nearly a day.

I see you can find the 2004 in a few stores here in New York, but not the 2001. The benefits of shopping in the country of origin.

I promise: no more kosher wine blogging. That is, unless someone brings something great to tonight's Seder.

Two for Passover and Beyond

Passover is here, and if you're a wine afficianado and invited to a Seder at a house that is even slightly observant, you've run into the annual problem: where to find a kosher wine that will please the palate as well as the table's sense of ritual?

Like wine the world over during the past decade or so, kosher wine has come a long way recently. Unless you're determined to buy Kedem or some such syrup, you'll have a tough time finding a truly terrible kosher bottle. Still, simple drinkability isn't really the point, is it? And many kosher wines still lack the complexity of their non-kosher cousins, even if they're not mevushal. I've tasted enough kosher wine over the years that I have a few dependable stand-bys up my sleeve. Yarden's Mount Hermon Red, running about $12, is a trustworthy Bordeaux blend from Israel, full and peppery. And Baron Herzog's Chenin Blanc from Clarksburg, priced at about $8, may be the best bargain on the market, and quite enjoyable, too.

Once prices climb above $20, I get more wary, because typically the quality doesn't improve much with the cost. But Passover is a special occasion, so something special is called for. So here are two wines which are so world class, you would never know they had a heckscher unless someone told you.

Out of the Priorat region of Spain is Capçanes' Flor de Primavera 2001, a Grenache-dominated red with an impressive silkiness, lively fruit, some spice and rich complexity. This is a beautiful wine. It has an interesting story behind it. The vineyards were used for bulk wine production until about 10 years ago, when the Jewish community of Barcelona asked the company to make them a kosher wine. Going about the assignment, the owners realized the true quality of the vines they were misusing and produced a superior wine that became a cult hit around Spain. Soon, in a flip of the usual situation, non-Jews were pleading with Capcanes to make a non-kosher version of their wine. They did, and both types of wines have been selling well since. Flor de Primavera will set you back $50, but it's worth it.

Jean-Luc Thunevin, the garagist artist of Bordeaux's Chateau Valandraud, needs no introduction. His boutique Bordeaux have been popular for some time. But most probably don't know that he makes a kosher and a kosher mevushal version of the same wine, both of which are nearly as delectable as the original. They most likely wine the prize for Best Kosher Wine in the World. Again, there's a story behind this. Thunevin grew up in Nigeria, where he had many Jewish friends. Once his winery was up and running, he wanted to thank his friends by created a wine for them. A purely selfless gesture. Now, the Chateau Valandraud will take $250 out of your pocket, so it's hard for me to recommend it to a regular consumer. But Jean-Luc makes a second, more affordable label, Virginie de Valandraud, which is priced at $50. It's not as stunning as the Valandraud, but it runs alongs the same themes.

There you go. You've got four glasses of wine to drink at that seder. Might as well enjoy them.

In the Cellar at Prime Grill

My February "In the Cellar" column for the New York Sun dwelled on The Prime Grill, which offered a unique perspective since The Prime Grill, being a glatt kosher steak and sushi house—possibly the best and most expensive in New York—has an all-kosher cellar. And the wines having to be kosher is not the only limitation the wine director Rick Bruner must deal with. Every bottle must also bear the OU kosher certification symbol AND be mevushal—that is, flash-boiled, so that gentiles may handle the bottle without spoiling the contents.

Now, I have the same problems with kosher wine that most wine lovers have, particularly when the lucious juice is willfully boiled. But I've drunk enough kosher vino over the years to recognize that Prime Grill had probably the best little cellar possible under the circumstances. Plus, the list contained two bottles from Chateau Valandraud, the famed garagiste Bordeaux, and, for my money, the best kosher wine on the planet.

Here is the link to the full article. The text follows.

On the face of it, the wine cellar run by sommelier Rick Bruner doesn't look measurably different than those at other Manhattan restaurants. It's a bit smaller, perhaps, less grand. Still, it's a sterile room full of bottles like many others. But this collection is different, for every chilled vessel on display once felt the brief kiss of red-hot flame.

Mr. Bruner, you see, works at Prime Grill, about as high a high-end kosher restaurant as you're likely to find in New York City. Every vintage on the 50-count wine list is not only kosher — that is, made by observant Jews and according to Jewish dietary law — but also mevushal, meaning the wine is boiled.

"As part of our kosher certification, and as an effort to make it easier on the guests, all the wines are mevushal," Mr. Bruner said. "That way, they don't have to worry." What's to worry about? Well, who handles the wine, for one. Only a kosher wine designated mevushal can be opened, toted, and poured by any pair of hands, be they Jewish or not. The stricture goes back to ancient times, when pagan faiths used wine for idolatrous ceremonies. It was then thought that, if the wine was pasteurized, it would be unfit for pagan worship, and thus safe for Jews. Though pagans are harder to find these days, the stipulation is still upheld, particularly in Orthodox circles. And for Prime Grill, a mevushal lineup is an imperative, since few of the waiters are Jewish.

The process that makes a wine mevushal is not as brutal as one might think. Nothing is boiled in a pot. The method used nowadays is known as flash pasteurization, and is akin to flash-frying a fish. "The wine is laid out to a few millimeters thick," Mr. Bruner explained, "and flash boiled and then cooled down, in an effort to maintain some of the complexity, some of the body. Because when you do boil it, as a matter of fact, you are breaking down the wine. That's why your zinfandels and cabernets will hold up much better. The pinot noirs and Rhone wines are a little harder."

The thought of wine being boiled — even momentarily — can make a wine purist fall into a dead faint. Some kosher winemakers aren't so crazy about it, either. Mr. Bruner, in an effort to increase the breadth and quality of his list, spends some of his time trying to coax vintners into making a mevushal product. Prime Grill — like Solo, its sister restaurant nearby in Midtown — has a number of exclusive mevushal selections on offer, and the wine director wants to see more.

"We're trying to grow our Israeli list right now," he said. "There are a lot of high-end Israeli wines that refuse to do mevushal." One of those list exclusives is the top-priced wine on the list, a 2002 Grand Cru Bordeaux from St. Emilion's tiny, but highly rated Chateau De Valandraud. It goes for $760. It also bears an OU certification, as must all of Prime Grill's wines. "That's another thing that defines our boundaries," he said.

Mr. Bruner, 30, had to take a crash course in kashrut and hechshers when he joined Prime Grill four and a half years ago. At the time, he wasn't familiar with even the most established kosher names such as Baron Herzog and Abarbanel. These days, part of his job is to make his clientele comfortable with the labels on the list that go beyond Herzog and Abarbanel. "A lot of families are more apprehensive about trying the Italians or French wines," he said. "They don't recognize the names."

Mr. Bruner is also in charge of the liquor supply and here, again, his job can be a challenge. Most spirits, being made of grains, are automatically kosher, but there are exceptions. "With your single malts, it cannot be aged in Madeira or Sherry casks, because that's wine," he said. "Those casks aren't kosher. And the only flavored vodkas we can carry are Stolichnaya, because they're the only ones who have an OU certification."

When he can't find something he wants among the available kosher intoxicants, he tries to make it himself. "I went to a food show a couple months ago and they had a green tea liqueur," he said. "But the tea leaves to make their liqueur were not inspected by a rabbi, so they're not kosher. So I said, ‘OK, I'll try to make my own.'" He took a bottle of Prime Grill's house vodka, Zenkoff, put in a couple cups of sugar, some food coloring, and tea leaves and let it sit for a month.

There were no lightning storms over Prime Grill when Mr. Bruner went in for this bit of mad-scientist experimentation. Nonetheless, the waitstaff has since nicknamed him Dr. Zenkoff.