Talking Turkey

Turkish wine. Name a winemaker.

If you said Kavaklidere, aside from your pronunciation skills being highly advanced, you are a sharp observer of the Turkish wine scene here in the U.S. Of course, that doesn't take much study, because the wines of only one Turkish winemaker currently make it into America: Kavaklidere.

Kavaklidere is also the largest winery in Turkey, with 550 hectares in land holdings throughout Anatolia in five different regions: Ankara, Eastern Anatolia, Thrace, Aegean and Central Anatolia. Along with rival winemaker Doluca, they rule the industry. They produce a dizzying array of bottlings, using many different grapes, both native and, increasingly, international. Their output is eight million liters a years, 80% of which is consumed in Turkey. Still, with all its advantages, Kavaklidere's wines are little known in this country. Basically, unknown, outside Turkish restaurants. (France imports quite a bit of Turkish wines.)

George DuBoeuf Finds His Vintage of a Lifetime

When George DuBoeuf, de facto king of Beaujolais, says he's found his Beaujolais vintage of a lifetime, you tend to listen, even if you are a bit skeptical. After all, he can only get away with saying such a thing once. And who knows more Beaujolais vintages, and knows them intimately, than this eminence grise of the Gamay grape?

Monsieur DuBoeuf and his son Franck said the 2009 vintage was the sunniest in long memory, resulting in very mature grapes upon harvest. Beaujolais Villages, in particular, exceeded their expectations, which a darker-than-usual hue to the wines.

Yet More on Barrel-Aged Cocktails

I heard about Jeffrey Morgenthaler's experiments with barrel-aged cocktails of in Portland a couple months ago and have posted a couple items here since then. Here's my first paid piece on the subject. I was surprised how quickly the idea had caught on. If I wait until the end of summer, I can sample a specimen here in New York. No need to fly to Portland. (Not that I don't want to fly to Portland.)

Here's the article:

A Beer At...Tonic East

Yelpers talking of Tonic East say it represents the epitome of what Murray Hill is all about. A whole neighborhood, like this? I had no idea.

Here's the Eater column:

Strange Cocktails From Another County

I recently posted an item on the New York Times' Diner's Journal blog about Christina Bini, a big fish from the small cocktail pond of Florence, Italy. Bini has been stolen from Tuscany by the owners of Il Matto, a new restaurant in Tribeca, who hired her to create their cocktail program—Bini's first in the U.S.

Lately, every time I encounter a prominent mixologist from outside the tight U.S.-UK cocktail circles, I am struck by how differently other parts of the world approach the art of the mixed drink. As advanced as cocktail science is in the English-speaking world, we do tend to set up certain rigid aesthetic and culinary borders and bugaboos for ourselves, somewhat judgmental rules that must be accepted and headed. Bini knows nothing of these. She's fine with vodka.  She told me she "loved" her blender. And she'll embrace any ingredient as a potential cocktail players.

One commenter on the Times article noted that I did not mention if I liked any of the cocktails I described. Well, I was reporting on Bini and her cocktail menu, not reviewing them. I wasn't functioning as a critic. But I will say here that, of the eight or so Bini creations I tasted, I like two or three quite a bit, particularly the ones that offered an enticing answer to the tired old Bloody Mary. Overall, the drinks are original and provoking. You may not like them, being as unusual as they are, but it won't be because the drinks are badly made, or haven't been thought out.

As for the Martinis with vermouth-soaked stones, one tastes very little, if any, vermouth. It is essentially a very dry Martini, the kind they drank in the 1960s. However, there is a noticeable difference in taste between the Martinis with black stones and white stones. The latter were distinctly more saline, and thus, in my opinion, preferable, as the salt introduced an additional element to the drink.

One other thing: I would drink these cocktails with food, not by themselves. That is not a piece of advice I normally give. I like wine with dinner, not cocktails. But these drinks, so involving foodstuffs as they do, are made as meal accompaniments. Il Matto, indeed, intends to promote them that way. Here's the article:

Brooklyn Artist Designed New Summer Label for Lillet

Lillet's been souping up their summer image in recent years, ringing the bottles in customized, bright imagery for the hot-weather months.

This year, the apertif called in the services of a Brooklyn artist with the ironical name of Autumn Whitehurst. (Her parents just couldn't name her Summer to help Lillet out, could they?)

Brooklyn's been getting a lot of attention from the big liquor companies lately. Absolut Brooklyn, a collaboration with Spike Lee, came out last month.

Templeton Rye Goes National

Templeton Rye—the provincial whiskey that has gotten a lot of attention in the past few years for its homespun tale of its clandestine Prohibition origins and having supposedly been Al Capone's favorite booze—will go national by the end of the year, it was announced.

Until now, you could only get Templeton in Chicago. That, of course, was part of its allure—its unattainability.

One has to be one's toes when taking in the Templeton tale; it just sounds too good not to be a piece savvy marketing. But the general story is that tiny Templeton, Iowa (pop. 300 or so), illegally made rye whiskey during Prohibition to get by. The hooch developed a reputation for relative quality during the time. Flash forward to the 21st century, Scott Bush and co-founder Keith Kerkhoff, descendants of the original families that produced Templeton Rye before Prohibition, tracked down the recipe and started producing it again.

The liquor is actually made in the huge Lawrenceburg Distillers in southeast Indiana, but it's bottled and labeled in a facility in Templeton, thus retaining the liquor's connection to its roots. Templeton actually provides profiles of its various "bottlers," who all look like the sort of moms you want to be making you cookies.