Music by Moonlight May 25, 2012
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Stuff in General.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
25 May 2012
Adagio – a tempo marking indicating that the music should be played slowly.
Dolce – meaning “sweet” in Italian; as a mood marking, it indicates that
the music should be played with a warm, gentle feeling.
If you’ve been hanging out at the wine shop long enough to share in the things I’m passionate about, then you know how much I love gazing at the full moon. Chances are you’ve also attended one of our shop’s happy little “Moonlight & Wine” picnics at some time or another. So if I’ve succeeded in getting you moonstruck, cheers to you. You know what magic is.
I have a confession to make, though.
In all the years that I have been gazing at the moon, I had always told myself to watch surrounded only by the hush that comes with the night. I had thought that the only sounds meant for a moonlit sky were the rustling of the evening breeze through the trees, the howl of the night wind in my face, the faint echo of a sleepless songbird…nothing much more than that.
Now that I reflect on it, however, I feel very foolish. A few weeks ago, you see, I found out how wonderful it can be to watch the moon…sigh, while listening to music.
How stupid of me. As someone who is accustomed to pairing wine with food, I should have realized intuitively that pairing music with moonlight could make for just as delicious an experience. To think that men and women have been associating music with the moon for as long as anyone can remember. Popular culture alone gives us a long list of song classics…Blue Moon, How High the Moon, Moon River, Moonlight Serenade, Paper Moon…and so on.
For me, it is the music of the great composers that truly imbues the moon with profoundly romantic significance. That you may understand how I feel, consider the two pieces most famously associated with our lunar companion: Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and Debussy’s Clair de Lune.
Clair de Lune (meaning “moonlight” in French) is one of the most soothing melodies ever written for the piano. In its unhurried play and relaxed openness, I can imagine moonlight as a “sea of tranquility” upon which to drift effortlessly, aimlessly and, above all, blissfully. On the other hand, the first movement of Moonlight Sonata evokes exquisite loneliness in me, not unlike how it can feel when dimness and shadow under the moon conspire to cast a different kind of stillness on the landscape. In this eerily beautiful, otherworldly solitude, I hear only my beating heart telling me to be resolved…just like Beethoven’s music for piano, in which he seems to say, “I accept my pain” (it is said that this music is a window into the composer’s anguish and struggle, written when he was coming to terms with the knowledge that he would soon be completely deaf).
Such is the breadth and depth that two very different piano pieces can bestow on the same subject. Yet neither came to my mind when the moon greeted me outside my window, fully rounded and gleaming in the very palest gold, well past midnight a few weeks ago. Rather, I found myself called by something I hadn’t been listening to for a while, though it is my most favorite piece of music in the whole world.
With my lovely visitor waiting, I found Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2, cued the second movement – the Adagio sostenuto – and let it play. Easing back at the foot of the bed, I caught the moonlight full on the face as it flooded through my window. The music, in reply, shimmered around the room like a late afternoon glittering on the sea.
And it was…magical.
Ever since I was very young, I have loved the music of Rachmaninoff. The last of the great Romantic composers and maybe the greatest pianist who ever lived, Rachmaninoff was resolute about how his music should feel: Russian. That’s what I thought even at a young age (at least as I understood it from movies and television), that it sounded so emotively, proudly “Russian.”
“The brooding, sometimes savage, frequently emotional expression often identified with the Russian soul,” a music critic once wrote, “flowed through Sergei Rachmaninoff’s music in a powerful stream.” For me to hear Rachmaninoff, then, is to hear the untamed heart and know it as my own.
The Adagio of the concerto starts like a gentle dream. Soft chords from the orchestra float in like deep breaths before giving way to the piano, which quiets you with a slow, simple rhythm; the piano’s delicacy holds you under its spell and is the heartbeat that awakens the main theme. The theme is phrased by a flute, then clarinet, until it mellows fully in the piano’s ripe, passionate voice. The mood climbs with dramatic tension, twice, leading to a short but maddening cadenza of desire until everything is calm again. With piano and orchestra embraced, the dreamy tenderness of the main theme is returned, to be concluded with what is perhaps the most loving passage of music that has ever been written.
“Bellissima,” I should have said, savoring what I was hearing as the moon began to dip behind the outline of a tall, willowy tree.
The wine lover in me couldn’t help musing. Paired with the moon, the Adagio was like a supple red wine, bringing out a more indulgent appreciation of the meal with every sip.
When the moon sank completely, its radiance filtered through the veil of tree branches and bade me go to sleep. Only then did the music melt away as the piano, playing to the last, dispersed itself like a glimmering surface fading in the distance.
I shut down the media player and retired to bed. Yet having sipped unforgettably of something slow and sweet in the company of la bella luna, my untamed heart only yearned for more.
But I only want more of what I like. And I know what I like. Hence, I shall now call all music that I love under the moonlight by this new name, using two musical words:
“Adagio Dolce”
With the endearing initials of each word safely within me, I beckon the moon to return. After all, the heart wants what the heart wants.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Despite their contrasting moods, the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 or “Moonlight Sonata” and the second movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 have similar rhythms for the piano; in addition, their themes compare favorably with each other. It should further intrigue lovers of moonlight to know that both movements use the same title, “Adagio sostenuto.”
But if you’ve never heard Piano Concerto No. 2, find the recording of pianist Artur Rubinstein with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Fritz Reiner. Among all recorded performances that exist of this concerto, Rubinstein’s alone rivals that of Rachmaninoff at the piano (unfortunately, Rachmaninoff’s breathtaking rendition was recorded in 1929 and, despite digital re-mastering to improve sound quality, is better appreciated with experienced ears). This is the one I was listening to under the moon. Purchase it or simply visit the wine shop to copy it for personal use.
Evo VII May 25, 2012
Posted by Alexander Sawit in News & Events.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
25 May 2012
It’s been said that, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result each time.” This is popularly but mistakenly attributed to Albert Einstein, who as a scientific genius probably would have agreed with the saying anyway.
Time has a way of sliding by unnoticed. It’s been more than a year since I’ve posted anything new on this blog and I’ve had more than enough time to think about the last seven years that Cyrano has been around as “your favorite little neighborhood wine shop.”
Yeah, seven years. It’s been that long.
Folks who’ve been coming to the shop since the beginning are the ones most caught unaware. Even newcomers are surprised but for a different reason.
“But we’ve been driving down this street for years,” they usually say in astonishment, “and we thought you just opened!”
So we at the shop did a lot of thinking about what we’ve been doing and what we haven’t been doing. And we came to the conclusion that we had to evolve.
That’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to acknowledge KPT, one of our most loyal Cyrano friends. She’s the engine behind the evolving direction of our shop in it’s seventh year, which started with awesome acoustic nights with Lee Grane and is set to continue with more great things to come.
On behalf of Ric, Joco and myself, thank you KPT.
And cheers to Cyrano Wine Shop “Evo VII” version (with apologies to the Mitsubishi Lancer).
Or, in the words of a very happy Junji Arias:
”Saaakehhh!!!”
Top 10 Deli Snacks In The Philippines April 8, 2011
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Food & Drink, Reviews / Recommendations.2 comments
By Alex Sawit
08 April 2011
Although the word delicatessen is of German origin, it ultimately derives from the Latin delicatus, which very loosely translated means, “Little goodies you can’t stop popping in your mouth!” Hence, “delicacies” are happily found when one steps into a modern deli shop.
People’s expectations of deli food vary, however. In North America, it’s popular to think of a delicatessen as a sandwich shop with menus for sit-down customers (my favorite movie reference is Meg Ryan’s famous “faking it” scene at Katz’s Deli in When Harry Met Sally). In Europe, the deli is a specialty grocery for top quality foodstuffs (curiously, in America they refer to this differently as a “gourmet food store”).
In the Philippines, we basically follow the European meaning: a delicatessen is a store that retails cured meats and cold cuts, sausages, cheeses, gourmet breads and other fine foods that can be served with minimum or no cooking. That’s how we at Cyrano understand deli food and this being a wine shop we want what goes well with wine, which is why our bar chow consists of easy-to-serve snacks for wine lovers to nibble on (like an old-fashioned enoteca, right?).
Alas we can’t have everything on our menu. It’s unfortunate because there are lots of good local products to be found, even from the far corners of the country (let’s thank our Cyrano business partners, Joco and Ric, for finding great stuff from as far away as Cagayan de Oro and Davao). The least we can do is acknowledge those we believe are worth praising to you.
So here is your wine shop’s list of what we feel are the Top 10 Deli Snacks made in the Philippines. Chances are you may have already tried or heard of some of them but please seek out on your own the ones that you haven’t. Remember to enjoy them with our wines!
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But Before Our Top 10…A Special Mention
Snobs would think it pedestrian to think so highly of pork rinds but what do they know? Our thanks to Manito de Borja, one of our oldest Cyrano friends and the fattest thin man we’ve ever met, for explaining the sophistication of Chicharittos (only an eating machine like Manito would have lobbied for this as a snack with wine). Try Chicharittos in all flavors with a smooth, dry South African Chenin Blanc and ignore those lobotomized Vegans who cannot fathom the rewards of so much unhealthy goodness.
Chicharottos are available at Rustan’s Supermarket Main Branch, Rustan’s Building, Ayala Avenue, Makati City.
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CYRANO’S TOP 10 DELI SNACKS
10. Chef Philippe’s Party Breads
Chef Philippe Agnesi, in a moment of candid satisfaction over the caffe latte he was served, told me that our shop makes “very good coffee.” Coming from a French pastry chef with a reputation for being a merciless perfectionist, it was flattering, especially since we aren’t an espresso bar. We now return the compliment. Chef Philippe’s Party Breads are uncompromisingly excellent. They are meals in themselves but are best sliced, as the name implies, as party hors d’oeuvres. Among the savory breads, my favorite is the Mediterranean, a soft brioche that’s a romance of pesto, tomato sauce, ricotta and mozzarella cheeses, sun dried tomatoes and black olives, to be enjoyed with a Côtes du Rhone Villages.
Chef Philippe’s Party Breads are available at Chef Philippe Commissary, 2310 Pasong Tamo Extension, Makati (visit www.chefphilippe.org for details).
9. Zaragoza Sardines
I’ve been a fan of this Pinoy brand for a while and it impresses me that Zaragoza Foods, which is based in Dipolog, is so consistent on such a commercial scale. Well, okay, they’ve had tiny slip ups but these have been rare. Whatever their secret, these sardines are absolutely the best value gourmet treats in the country, especially for gourmands who know what to do with good sardines. Available in Portugese- and Spanish-style in corn oil and in Spanish-style in tomato sauce, these are delectable with good bread and a Southern French Viognier.
Zaragoza Sardines are available at Rustan’s Supermarket Main Branch. Export versions in olive oil are available at S&R Price Mart, Fort Bonifacio, Taguig.
8. Dial K For Kitchen Pâté
After pursuing culinary careers in Europe for nearly 20 years, sisters Georgina and Kim Ramos returned to the Philippines to nurture something closer to their hearts. The result is Dial K For Kitchen, a gourmet business that radiates with their cultivated food experiences. Among their products, nothing expresses this as luxuriously as their bestselling pâté. “This has got to be the SMOOTHEST, the absolute CREAMIEST chicken liver pâté you can ever find,” they claim on their blog, “with no gamey aftertaste!” I won’t disagree. Bring some to the shop so you can share it with us when you order a South African Rosé.
Dial K For Kitchen Paté can be ordered at facebook.com/Dial.K.for.Kitchen.
7. Malagos Farmhouse Cheeses
Mrs. Olive Puentespina has been making artisanal cheeses in Davao under the Malagos Farmhouse label for several years now, winning acclaim from local and foreign gourmands who are astounded that Western-style cheeses of such quality can be made in our tropical climate. Her fromage de chèvre (French-style soft goat cheese) is a favorite of European expats, who say it’s indistinguishable from the French import. Pile it on thin crisp bread and pair it with a well-chilled Italian Prosecco. I go for the “peppercorn brie” and “demi-blue Styleton” (that’s what I nicknamed the latter because it reminds me of an extremely mild Stilton), made from cow’s milk, both of which are nice with a creamy Australian Chardonnay.
Malagos Farmhouse Cheeses are available here at Cyrano Wine Shop.
6. Chef Cyrille’s Pork Rillette
I’m going to take flak for this because not every Cyrano friend is a fan of Chef Cyrille Soenen’s rillette (our adorable but painfully fussy Cyrano friend, Georgina, derides it by saying it tastes like canned corned beef in fat…ouch!). Many agree, however, that it’s like lechon you can serve with a butter knife and to me this stuff is bursting with flavor. Rillette is meat, often pork, cooked in its own rendered fat and reduced to a spread. Other rillettes can be like fine paste but Chef Cyrille makes a rustic style whose flaky texture I prefer, especially on flat bread. Try it with a Southern French Syrah and then decide if this is the best rillette in town.
Chef Cyrille’s Pork Rillette can be ordered from Cyrille Soenen Restaurants, Inc. (visit www.restaurantcicou.com for details).
5. Säntis Chorizo
I order this in advance at Säntis Forbes because they can run out as quickly as it arrives. Säntis Delicatessen has been selling beer sticks for years but something clicked last Christmas season when customers in the affluent neighborhood developed a liking for this Spanish-style, dry-cured sausage (so it’s technically not a chorizo but a salchichón). Suddenly, folks were loading them in gift baskets and hoarding them for their pantries. Its chewy tenderness and mildly sour, mildly spicy meaty flavor make it so versatile, allowing you add it to anything from fresh salads to different pastas. I like slicing it into rounds as a snack, preferably paired with a red like a Spanish Tempranillo.
Säntis Chorizo is available at Säntis Delicatessen, WIC Building 7431 Yakal Street, San Antonio Village, Makati.
4. H-Cuisine’s Frozen Microwavable Takeaways
Chef Hannah Herrera gets great reviews for her catering service, H-Cuisine, and folks who visit her stall at the Salcedo market can’t get enough of H-Cuisine’s famous slow-roasted Angus beef belly. There’s also marrow-filled ossobuco and rich callos and a whole lot more. Here’s the kicker: H-Cuisine also offers these items as frozen takeaways that are awesome after proper reheating (folks at the shop were surprised at how yummy they turned out after microwaving). Nothing beats food fresh from the kitchen but this shows what’s possible if you know the tricks of reheating (Chef Hannah includes precise instructions with the frozen products). Try the beef belly, ossobuco and callos at the shop “pica-pica style” with a smooth Aussie Cabernet Sauvignon.
H-Cuisine’s Frozen Microwavable Takeaways are available at the H-Cuisine stall in Salcedo Market, every Saturday at Salcedo Park, Leviste Street, Salcedo Village, Makati.
3. Donau Deli Sausages
Anyone who knows anything about charcuterie would be foolish to dispute that Donau Deli makes the best sausages and cold cuts in town. Founded by Chef Roland Sager and his wife Marietta, Donau is so reputable that they regularly produce sausages and cold cuts for other delicatessens, who then proudly package them as their own (shame on Mickey’s Delicatessen for not giving credit where credit and more are due). They make a wide variety of classic German-style sausages but ironically my favorite is the fully cooked Polish-style Kielbasa, a glorious meld of lean and fat with the right sweet smoky flavor, all nice with a Chilean Pinot Noir.
Donau Deli Sausages can be purchased at Donau Deli, 7904 Lawaan Street, San Antonio Village, Makati (for inquiries, call 899-6810 or send an e-mail to donaudeli@yahoo.com).
2. SLERS Pastrami
I must confess that I had misgivings after I tasted a new batch recently only to find that the product was a bit underwhelming. It was very good, mind you, just not as impressive as what I’m accustomed to because the SLERS Pastrami that I know and love is unassailably delicious. I wasn’t fond of pastrami until I tried SLERS. What an epiphany! SLERS breaks away from the popular style of American pastrami by making something truly ebullient – it’s more tender and juicy and much more flavorful, with more of the natural sweetness of the beef coming through (even our Teutonic Cyrano friend, Thilo, who is always on the lookout for products for the German Club, called this the best pastrami he’s tasted). SLERS is a small family-run business making high-quality meat products in Cagayan de Oro, so the brand isn’t visible in Makati’s premiere supermarkets. But all their products are top notch and I’m envious that the folks in CDO have this for their daily sandwich satisfaction. In the end, the new batches I’ve tasted are probably just rarities of inconsistency, so future ones should be perfect again, especially when paired with a good South African Côtes du Rhone-style red blend.
SLERS Pastrami is available here at Cyrano Wine Shop.
1. Feng Wei Wee Smoked Duck
Of all those honored in our Top Ten list, our No. 1 has an unbeatable “wow factor” thanks to a winning combination of lip-smacking goodness and impeccable consistency. Feng Wei Wee Taiwan Cuisine in Quezon City is a no-frills eatery that is guarded by its Chinese patrons (even those who live out of the way insist on coming here rather than to the more convenient branch in Green Hills). Forget the cafeteria-style setting; if you’re no snob, this deceptively inexpensive place will rock your world. The bonus was recognizing a snack that pairs with wine. Their smoked duck breast elevates you to a state of bliss, especially when harmonized with the light sauce accompanying it. Serve it as cold hors d’oeuvres, slicing it thinly to show off the wonderful layer of duck fat against the meat, to be enjoyed at leisure with a superb Chilean Carménère.
Feng Wei Wee Smoked Duck is available at Feng Wei Wee Taiwan Cuisine, No.82 Banawe Street corner Samat Street, SMH, Quezon City.
In-Store Review: Laurus Syrah 2007 January 11, 2011
Posted by Alexander Sawit in All About Wine, Reviews / Recommendations.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
11 January 2011
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OUR WINE RATING GUIDE
- Great = 10
Exceptionally Good = 9
Very Good = 8
Good = 7
Extra Fair = 6
Fair = 5
Poor = 4
Very Poor = 3
Horrifically Poor = 2
Abominable = 1
To learn more, click here.
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Many years ago, I asked a sweet old Spanish lady to explain to me what a salerosa is.
Although no one really says this Hispanic word in the Philippines anymore, I’d heard that generations ago it was eagerly exclaimed by smitten colonial bachelors, who used it to describe the bewitching mestizas of our country whom they fell madly in love with. The lady explained it to me vaguely, however. She simply said that a salerosa is a pretty girl with a certain something. “It means cute,” she cheerfully added after phoning a friend just to offer me a second opinion.
But there are cute girls and then there are cute girls. Reading between the lines, I realized that no proper Spanish lady could bring herself to explain it any further, especially to a young man. Only gentlemen of a bygone era were free to talk about the fairer sex that poignantly. How the world has changed. Nowadays we vulgar brutes just say, “Dude, that chick is ******* hot!”
I’ve been using this elegant word ever since.
But being a wine lover, I also find it fun to describe a sensuous, luscious bodied, amorously arousing wine that catches my fancy as a “salerosa” (the last time was for a pair of Chilean beauties, whose Hispanic backgrounds made the description perfectly appropriate). That’s just how I want to describe the Laurus Syrah 2007, which has become the new darling of folks at the shop.
Laurus is the prestige brand of Maison Gabriel Meffre, a highly esteemed winery and négociant founded in 1936 in the Rhône Valley wine region of France. To Cyrano friends who have tasted the Laurus Syrah, if you’ve sensed something familiar it’s because Gabriel Meffre also produces the Fat Bastard Shiraz that you like.
But as much as you and I enjoy that Shiraz with the happy hippo on the label, it comes across as thin and rough by comparison. The more graceful, deeply purpled Laurus Syrah is all about what’s ripe and ravishing. On the nose, there is greater depth to the Laurus, melding dark espresso, violet and faint traces of cinnamon. In the mouth the difference intensifies. The Laurus feels shapely and smooth, its taste offering a seductive concentration of stewed blueberries, cocoa and licorice, ending with a peppery, long-legged pose of spice and everything nice. Darn, I love this wine! It hits the spot.
Laurus Syrah 2007 retails at the wine shop for PhP 700 a bottle, actually a down-to-earth price for something so alluring. For me that’s like finding a gorgeous woman who is the honest opposite of a high-maintenance princess.
What real man wouldn’t want to drink that? Viva salerosas!
CYRANO’S RATING:
VERY GOOD (Score 8.0)
Wine: Laurus Syrah 2007
Grape: Syrah 100%
Country: France
Wine Region:
Sud de France / Languedoc-Rousillon
Category: Vin de Pays d’Oc
Ageing: 9 months in 275 liter oak barrels
Suggested Food Pairing:
- Barbecued baby back ribs
- New Zealand vintage cheddar
Cellaring Options: Drink until 2012
Here’s Our Wine Rating Format January 10, 2011
Posted by Alexander Sawit in All About Wine, Reviews / Recommendations.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
10 January 2011
Happy New Year, Cyrano Friends!
To start the year right, I’m introducing our “In-Store Review” feature in which I’ll be reviewing newly added wines in our inventory. These reviews should be especially welcome to those of you who ask me every once in a while about what wines I personally like and why.
I’ll also be rating these wines to guide you better, although I still feel a little wary about doing this for a wine review. There are just too many wine critics in the world devoted to giving ratings with ultra-precise point scores and I feel that it’s misleading when critics insist on precise numbers to quantify something that is so subjective. I honestly feel that descriptive words can more faithfully communicate the quality of a wine than a numerical score can.
Yet the reality is that consumers prefer scores, which make life easier for anyone who simply wants to buy and enjoy a nice wine. So I’ll harmonize my descriptions and scores together this way (scores are from 1 to 10, allowing increments of 0.5 points):
- Great = 10
Exceptionally Good = 9
Very Good = 8
Good = 7
Extra Fair = 6
Fair = 5
Poor = 4
Very Poor = 3
Horrifically Poor = 2
Abominable = 1
Now my reviews and ratings reflect my preferences, which may or may not agree with your own. So it’s more important to remember that my purpose is merely to help you make better-informed decisions about which wines to choose. At the end of the day, the final proof about whether you like something or not is entirely up to you.
So let’s get ready for the first review.
Pour Your Bubbly Like A Beer December 30, 2010
Posted by Alexander Sawit in All About Wine.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
30 December, 2010
It’s that time of year again, Cyrano friends, so get your New Year’s Eve party checklist ready.
Fireworks? Check.
Balloons and confetti? Check.
Champagne? Well, uh…
Okay, so I love the sentimental value of Veuve Clicquot if only because of how flamboyantly it’s mentioned in the movie Casablanca (“I recommend Veuve Clicquot ’26,” actor Claude Rains says famously). Nevertheless, there are lots of happy choices when it comes to sparkling wine that isn’t as outrageously priced as Champagne. You can get great value with Italian Prosecco or have delicious fun with Spanish Cava. Even England, whoopsie-daisies of all places, is now making reasonably priced bubbly that experts say rivals some of the finest Champagnes.
In other words, you don’t need expensive Champagne to toast the New Year.
But whichever you choose to pop open, allow me to repeat this simple, scientifically proven tip to help you fully enjoy your bubbly this New Year’s Eve. That is, when serving it from the bottle, tilt your glasses at a sharp angle and pour the wine like a beer.
I repeat: pour it like a beer. According to the scientists, that’s how Champagne and all sparkling wine should be served from now on.
This advice is still unpopular with conservative restaurateurs and hoteliers. These folks tend to resist scientific evidence that contradicts their artistic approach to fine dining, which is why they were annoyed when a group of French scientists published their controversial study earlier this year in the Journal of Agricultural and Food Chemistry (study entitled, “On the Losses of Dissolved CO2 During Champagne Serving,” July 2010).
Even prominent English wine critics dismissed the findings of the French scientists (I find it funny, by the way, how many English wine critics love to display a title called “Master of Wine,” a peculiar British-invented credential that just sort of means, “I Studied For Three Years So I Could Be A Wine Lecturing Geek At Cocktail Parties Blah-Blah-Blah”).
“Pouring Champagne like a lager is seen as a really naff way to serve it,” scoffs British wine critic Tom Stevenson, who is labeled outside France as the world’s leading authority on Champagne. “You would not see a sommelier doing it in a million years.”
But those French researchers were merely following an age old hunch. Consumers have long suspected that the standard practice of pouring Champagne straight down a glass to create lots of mousse (foam), which is taught in every sommelier class, wastes effervescence and can even have an undesirable effect on the taste.
Image source: Decanter.com
“In champagne and sparkling wine tasting, the concentration of dissolved CO2 is a parameter of great importance,” wrote the scientists, whose tests clearly showed that the standard serving method results in an excessive loss of dissolved carbon dioxide. This, they said, causes sparkling wines to taste flatter and smell less fragrant.
Since sparkling wine retains better “mouth feel” and bouquet if CO2 loss is minimized, the scientists concluded that the best solution is to simply angle the glass and pour slowly along the side. In other words, use the “beer method” of pouring and it will taste better.
Image source: Journal of Agricultural and Food Chemistry
“The beer-like way of serving champagne is much softer than the champagne-like one,” says the study.
Hooray for the scientists. It’s silly that the wine world still has to suffer so much closed-mindedness in this day and age. No matter. Sooner or later, everybody from wine stewards to wine snobs will be following what the researchers have correctly advised. I’ll be happy to toast to that, then, Champagne glass in hand, with all Cyrano friends this New Year’s Eve.
Check!
Photo Shop December 20, 2010
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Stuff in General.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
20 December, 2010
“So have you posted the pictures yet?” she asked.
Oops.
I’d totally forgotten that ‘Dite has been expecting me to upload at least some of the photos she’s taken at the shop over the course of a month. When she asked me again the other week, without thinking I quickly responded with a vague but acceptable, “Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me. I’ll do it soon!”
Double oops.
You see, ‘Dite (as in Aphrodite, the mythological Greek goddess), is Cyrano’s recently designated photographer-in-residence and is sometimes identified at Cyrano Wine Photo Shop as, “That girl over there with the big *** camera!”
[CUT TO ITALIAN-AMERICAN GUY AT THE BAR DUCKING TO AVOID SWINGING WIDE ANGLE LENS WHILE CHICKS IN HOOKER HEELS GIGGLE AROUND LIGHTING EQUIPMENT.]
Jokes aside, her fellow Cyrano friends always light up with smiles when she’s around. The lady’s an artist, which is something I’ve witnessed on the number of occasions that she’s turned our place into a photographer’s studio (like the time she got her model, Marie, to project a mood that “set things on fire”).
Okay, here it is, ‘Dite. Sorry it’s just a measly few and mostly “family” shots. Sorry, too, for procrastinating. Boo-yah!
South African Chenin Blanc and Cabernet Rosé.
Nice wine racks, too.
Ya know, folks love our bar stools and that ottoman couch.
What a pain it was to hand-carry that Doisneau poster on the plane from Paris.
‘Twas worth it, though.
Haven’t raised the shutters.
What the…’Dite has another tattoo???
Observation #1: At Cyrano, some folks wanna stay and work…
…while others just wanna work on staying.
If only Cyrano friends would quit smoking…sigh.
We call this the garapata flower vase.
Observation #2: On any average night at Cyrano…
…you can count on hanging out with anything but average folks.
Definitely anything but average. How’s it going, Shimizu-san?
L to R: Our lady neighbor M who stays across the street; the dude who made the garapata vase; our photographer-in-residence.
Suddenly, the dude who made the garapata vase asked,
“How about a picture of just M and Shimizu-san?”
Don’t blame us M. It was his suggestion.
“…And then the rabbi said…”
Best Beers Of Southeast Asia 2010 (That’s It) December 9, 2010
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Food & Drink, Reviews / Recommendations.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
09 December, 2010
A jovial German customer of ours tells this joke whenever someone orders American beer at the shop.
“What does American beer have in common with canoeing?” he likes to ask with a big grin before the punch line. “They’re both just above water.”
It’s an unfair generalization, I must say, one that accounts only for those watered-down U.S. brands that are being dumped on the world’s supermarkets in the name of globalization (our shop, by the way, only serves the good stuff from coast to coast, from Boston’s Samuel Adams to San Francisco’s Anchor Steam Beer). Unfortunately the Germans with their Old World heritage dismiss all American beers as a symptom of a culturally challenged way of life. As far as they are concerned, grown-ups – meaning Germans – bask in the glory of what they call Oktoberfest, while juveniles – meaning Americans – go nuts for that annual beer-and-bikini riot they call Spring Break. End of discussion.
Seriously, my Teutonic amigo is right about one thing. That is, if a beer can be poked fun at then it isn’t worth the time and effort to accord proper respect.
So I’ve come to a sobering decision. This shall be my last “Best Beers of Southeast Asia” post.
Screenshot of “a laid-back place with a laid-back beer.”
I’ve thrown in the towel. I now acknowledge that keeping an annual review is a pretentious thing when the pickings in Southeast Asia are painfully few and far between. How few? For me, only TWO beers deserve to be recognized for genuine excellence.
Beer Lao is an enigma to me. I’m echoing the amazement Time Magazine expressed when it declared Beer Lao as the best beer in Asia. Like most of my countrymen, I grew up believing that the Philippines had a lock on making beer in the region. All this changed years ago once I had a taste of that beautifully clear, golden Laotian brew. It was humbling but I am grateful that my preconception was overturned.
Yet Beer Lao is not the best in Southeast Asia. That honor goes to Cerveza Negra San Miguel of the Philippines (this is the domestic release of San Miguel’s dark lager and must not be confused with the mediocre export versions). With its supple balance of semi-bitter chocolate and sweet toffee flavors, I have always thought more highly of it than the brewery’s flagship, San Miguel Beer. Though Negra was plagued by unreliable quality in the past due to the token attention it gets as a “toy brand” in the company portfolio, I now believe consistency is no longer a deciding factor (to read the back story on this, click here).
There you go, Beer Lao and Cerveza Negra San Miguel.
Sorry but major brands like Singha of Thailand and Tiger Beer of Singapore don’t cut it. Nor is there any hope for Anchor Beer of Malaysia, Angkor Beer of Cambodia, Bintang Beer of Indonesia, Beer Mynarmar of Burma, Saigon Beer of Vietnam and whatever else is floating out there. Drinkable? Yes. Good? At least they’re above water.
The truth is that the big breweries of Southeast Asia don’t show the kind of passion and craftsmanship that are the foundations of great beer making. There’s a kind of indolence in this, reminiscent of those colonial-era comments that self-righteous Occidentals used to make about Southeast Asians, saying that we are too laid back, that we don’t have the drive to do more or keep improving things (how ironic that Beer Lao, which is made with superb effort, markets itself by promoting Laos as “a laid-back place with a laid-back beer”). Southeast Asia is a lucrative beer market yet breweries are pulling big profits with lousy but popular stuff. Why fix what ain’t beer-roke? With no incentive to elevate local palates, they’re happy to keep brewing the same barnyard flush for consumers, who don’t know enough to ask, “Why the hell are we paying good money for bottled horse piss???”
The biggest disappointment is the Philippines, which has the proudest brewing tradition in Asia but is now drowning in a sea of equine fizzy relief. What a sinking feeling. What I feel just from glancing at brands like San Mig Light or Manila Beer is comparable to what I feel whenever I see our politicians running yet again for national office.
Let’s be honest, my fellow Filipinos. We know in our hushed thoughts that these political gargoyles always reveal themselves to be the same unholy thing – ineptly out of their depth or corruptly self-serving or, as is normally the curse, both (while the good people stay in the private sector as far away from the inferno as possible). As I tell all my foreign friends, the Philippines is a feudal society masquerading as a modern Western-style democracy. Unless we Filipinos first destroy our deep-rooted feudal culture, then democratic elections will merely perpetuate our socio-economic problems, not solve them.
Sigh…forgive me. I digress.
Many nights ago our Cyrano friend, Bobby, was at the shop lamenting how disenchanted he is with San Miguel Beer. A retired ad man with an educated taste for drink, Bobby, after polishing off a great Czech beer, went on to say that he has written off this Filipino classic. “It’s beyond salvation,” I seem to recall him saying.
“San Miguel makes Pale Pilsen on the cheap now,” I said, as Bobby switched to a Dutch lager. “The key ingredients are imported and expensive, so they’re cutting corners. They’re cutting down on barley malt and increasing the use of cereal extenders.”
We proceeded to talk about other local brands but it only made him more miserable. Feeling the need to switch to cheerful conversation, we closed by agreeing that San Miguel Premium is for gullible, status conscious posers and that the newly resurrected Manila Beer should have remained entombed in Asia Brewery’s graveyard of dead brands.
That’s it. End of story. If memory serves me right, we moved on to an intellectually discriminating, emotionally gratifying discussion about the ever expanding list of hot babes who hang out at the wine shop.
Haha…now, THAT is something worth making an annual review of.
POSTSCRIPT: Here’s a consolation prize. San Miguel Super Dry tastes better now, a whole bloody lot better. Though it still doesn’t taste like it did when it first rolled out some twenty years ago, the heft and richness are noticeably superior to its immediate sibling, San Miguel Pale Pilsen (I venture to guess that its malt content was restored to a higher level). Does this have to do with Super Dry’s repositioning as the premium beer of the two, reflected in its higher pricing? Go Super Dry, baby!
Pluck Yew July 7, 2010
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Stuff in General.add a comment
By Alex Sawit
07 July 2010
It’s been well over a month since Robin Hood ended its run in local theaters. Nevertheless, lately a few folks at your neighborhood wine shop have been chatting me up on the subject. Because of this, I’ve been harboring this silly phrase at the back of my mind for a few weeks now:
“Pluck yew.”
Before I explain further, let me come clean. I wasn’t a fan of Robin Hood as a kid. Alas, those classic movies ruined it for me, with bygone actors like Errol Flynn who popularized the hero as a middle-aged Peter Pan with larger than life fighting skills. I mean, come on, a guy in green kindergarten tights is single-handedly shooting down an army of knights and out-dueling them with a dagger from the studio’s prop department? Even my childhood mind knew something was whacked in this Hollywood fantasy.
It didn’t help that, as a kid who read mythologies, I wasn’t favorably disposed toward bow-wielding characters in the first place. I remember taking it badly when I got the news that Achilles had been killed by an arrow to his self-labeled heel. I thought, “Are you kidding me? The dude is the bravest, greatest warrior on Planet Greek and he gets shot by a sniveling, wife-stealing Trojan prince from a safe distance behind a fortress wall? Paris is a schmuck!”
But I’ve had a change of heart. I now appreciate Robin Hood from an overlooked point of view and I have the new movie to thank for it. As the latest blockbuster from director Ridley Scott, who recruited his Oscar-winning Gladiator star Russell Crowe for the title role, Robin Hood is the most historically immersed movie to date, giving unprecedented attention to the real people and events at the heart of the legend (although it still bends a few historical facts for easier storytelling). Simply put, it reboots everything Hollywood ever told us.
“What Ridley and I sought to do was recalibrate the story,” explains Crowe in the movie’s fascinating tie-in documentary, The Real Robin Hood, which is currently airing on The History Channel-Asia.
Never mind that it’s essentially a promotional show for the film. Written and co-directed by Scott for The History Channel, The Real Robin Hood is an impressive production in its own right, vividly separating Hollywood fiction from truth. Who was the real Robin Hood? Why did his legend arise at a crucial time in English history? And why does his story ring timelessly to this day? The show hits all the marks like arrows on target, with insights from historians and demonstrations by experts in medieval warfare, interspersed with out-takes from the film (with an excellent narration by Oscar-winning actor William Hurt, who also stars in the movie).
DVD cover of The Real Robin Hood.
Truthfully, The Real Robin Hood is the reason why the subject has been popping up here at the shop. Cyrano friends love the show.
Well, okay, the few who’ve seen it on cable do. I’m not complaining. I welcome small talk with “fans” of the documentary. Just listen to my chat on a different night with Ivan [not his real name], another new Cyrano friend who gushes about how thrilled he is to finally find a wine bar like ours.
[NOTE: Due to gaps in my memory, I've reconstructed my conversation using liberal storytelling license. It also includes a joke that was emailed to me many years ago. Remember pluck yew?]
Illustrated sword and buckler combat
from Lombardy, circa 1390.
“In the documentary,” I explained to Ivan after opening a bottle of wine, “they talk about something called a “buckler.” A buckler is a tiny shield about this size (I showed him a dining plate) and it’s what a yeoman like Robin Hood would have carried to the battlefield. Being archers, yeomen had to be light on the move, so they couldn’t burden themselves with large shields. A buckler was for emergencies when a yeoman was forced to drop his bow and fight at close quarters.”
“Makes sense,” Ivan commented. “It’s minimal protection but better than nothing.”
“The thing is,” I added, “they hanged their bucklers at the hip beside their daggers. As they dashed around the battlefield, the daggers would swing against the metal, creating a “swashing” sound. Thereafter, these fast-fighting yeomen were nicknamed “swashbucklers.””
“Hey, cool,” he said. “No wonder Hollywood picked it up. By the way, you were saying something earlier about the yew tree?”
“Oh, yew,” I remembered. “I was saying that the signature weapon of the yeoman was the longbow and it was made from the yew tree. It’s a wood with spring-like properties. Longbows could shoot arrows over greater distances than conventional European bows, giving the English an advantage on the battlefield against their arch-rivals, the French. Do you want to hear the joke about it?”
With wineglass in hand, Ivan gave me the green light.
“Supposedly,” I proceeded, “because longbows were made from the yew tree, yeomen referred to the action of drawing their bowstrings to shoot as “plucking the yew.” In a medieval society where vulgar humor pervaded all classes, the nobles couldn’t help attaching a connotation to the phrase. Hence, the English knights bawdily cheered their yeomen as merry men who could pluck yew.”
“Pluck yew!”
“That’s not all. In battle, the yeomen used special arrows called “bodkin points” to penetrate enemy armor. Like all arrows, these had tail feathers to stabilize their flight. Supposedly, the best feathers were those of the wild pheasant and the best pheasant for this purpose was a plump mother hen because it was more docile and had more feathers for plucking. Once again, the knights couldn’t resist thinking of a vulgar association for the fact that yeomen were plucking arrows made from pleasant pheasant mothers. Dare you say it quickly?”
“Plump pleasant pheasant mother plucker!”
“By Robin Hood’s time, the English and French were constantly at war. Now the one thing the French knights detested was the English archer. Battle after battle, the yeomen proved that they could blanket a field with a murderous rain of arrows, smothering horse mounted French knights before they could reach the English lines. Centuries later, the English were still winning the great battles – Crecy, Poitiers, Agincourt…the list goes on – and this pissed off the French. Imagine what the trash talk must have been like as both sides heckled each other across the battlefield.”
“English pheasant mother pluckers!”
“Pluck yew, Frenchie!”
“Rumor has it that the French were so determined to get revenge that, prior to the Battle of Agincourt, they issued a warning that they would cut off the middle fingers of all the yeomen they would capture so that they could never draw a bowstring again. Needless to say, the trash talk at Agincourt between French knights and English yeomen became extremely vicious.”
“Mother plucking peasants!!!”
“Pluck yew, tin heads!!!”
“But when the battle commenced, the French discovered too late that the field had turned soggy from rainfall the night before and they watched in horror as the earth turned to mush under the weight of thousands of French knights on horseback and on foot. Weighed down by their armor, they were hopelessly slowed by the thick mud and became engulfed by an avalanche of arrows. The English then simply advanced and slaughtered them. As the rest of the enemy fled, the triumphant yeomen stuck their middle fingers in the air at the retreating French just to let them know that they could still pluck yew.”
“Who’s the mother plucker now??!! Pluck yew, Frenchie! Pluck yew!!!”
“Finally,” I said, wrapping things up. “To honor the many pheasants whose feathers went into the arrows that helped make victory possible, the yeomen thereafter referred to the act of sticking their middle fingers at the enemy as “giving them the bird.” Needless to say, the English knights couldn’t help snickering about it.”
Noticing that Ivan couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, I reminded him that this was just a charade, the sort of harmless banter bored historians come up with instead of knock-knock jokes. Yet as silly as the make-believe details were, there is no disputing the truths that give them substance. At the end of the day, it is not fiction but truth that makes all the great stories of history so inspiring.
So be it with the real Robin Hood. Say it with me, Cyrano friends.
“Pluck yew!”
Re-edited 28 May 2012
A Color I Can Taste April 18, 2010
Posted by Alexander Sawit in Food & Drink.4 comments
By Alex Sawit
18 April 2010
To download this wallpaper of Brittany, click here.
They call it glasz.
In the old Celtic language of Brittany, that’s how locals describe the bluish seascape of this panoramic region in the northwestern corner of France. Wandering between blue, green and gray, it’s a color so vast that visitors can’t help losing themselves in its hues as it permeates the rugged coastline from sea to sky. Glasz is part of my enduring recollection of Brittany from years ago. I regret that my youthful preoccupations back then distracted me from developing a much deeper attachment to this place at the time. Nowadays my mind races at the thought of those bluish sea cliffs and rocky shores, which are idyllic to my sense of adventure.
Yet glasz is more than a color to me. It’s also something I remember tasting. Brittany not only has superlative seafood but boasts of the best oysters on earth. Visiting the famed oyster town of Cancale, I eagerly devoured the substance of that boast – succulent, nutty-sweet oyster meat with the perky flavor of sea foam, topped with a twist of lemon before being dispatched in my ravenous jaws. Bretons say you can taste their bluish coastal environment of water and air in these prized shellfish. I like to call it glasz you can taste.
Still, even though the taste of glasz belongs to Brittany, it does have aspiring counterparts around the world. Even here in our own country, we have something suggestive of it. Just visit our neighbor up the street if you don’t believe me.
A short walk from our wine shop is Gustavus, a chic little restaurant & bar that opened not long ago as the street’s unofficially designated steak house. For months I’d only ever driven past its frosted glass exterior on my way to work, not because I didn’t believe customers of ours who enjoy the steaks there but because I simply had my own place to attend to. Then one of them started raving about the fresh oysters. “Local oysters,” he said as he took note of my curiosity. Visit after visit, he praised them as being of the finest quality, all at a menu price that was a steal. I had to try them, he insisted.
My thanks to Biba for these pictures of her oyster feast
at Gustavus with other Cyrano friends.
So I did. I strolled over to Gustavus, sat at the bar and was served a hefty plate of pearly shelled beauties on a bed of rock salt with lemon slices. A single order yields more than half a dozen pieces (at P240 per serving, the menu price is a big attraction). Further, though I deemed them to be of fair size, the manager apologized for their “smallness.” The warm season at the oyster farm was to blame, he said, otherwise they would have been bigger. He needn’t have worried.
Let me spell it out: W-O-W. The moment I lifted that first juicy oyster from its half shell and sank my teeth in, I knew that this was the real deal. With fresh-from-the-water fleshiness, each one was soft and creamy in the mouth, combining a buttery flavor with a kiss of the beach. Engrossed in my feast, I suddenly felt the flash of a memory, of me in a little restaurant in a small town in Brittany, plucking the contents of half shells and chomping away to my heart’s delight. In that instant, I remembered glasz.
Afterward, I reflected some more at the wine shop. The idea that someone was cultivating local oysters this good and delivering them fresh daily to my neighbor left me both impressed and relieved (having grown up in a household where the institutionalized attitude was to drive out of town and bring home sacks of muddy critters that always seemed to smell like ditch water, I had lulled myself into thinking that the local product would never be good enough to make me feel safe about eating it in its natural state). According to the restaurant, the supplier is a foreign entrepreneur who farms in the waters of Aklan a few hundred kilometers to the south before flying the oysters here for processing and distribution.
But is this equal to the taste of glasz? It occurred to me to ask myself that after I heard a story from another customer of ours. He told me about a foreigner who was farming top grade oysters in Aklan and exporting them to E.U. markets. Crucially, he said the expat claimed that his product was as good as Europe’s best. That meant Brittany’s. I asked if this exporter was supplying Gustavus, but my friend had no idea. Regardless of whether it was the same supplier or not, I told my friend that the boast was actually a harmless marketing tool. But hearing it spurred me to ask and answer my own question.
No. Delicious as they are, the local oysters do not equal the taste of glasz, that special meld of hazelnut sweetness and tangy sea foam edge, as I remember it to be. They are merely reminiscent of it. Yet in my opinion, that in itself is a worthy distinction.
It’s been weeks since that first encounter and I’m happy to say that I’ve been regularly enjoying oysters at Gustavus for what they are. I’ve even given my recommended white wine pairing to the restaurant manager (I didn’t recommend Muscadet, however, even though that’s the traditional French pairing for European flat oysters, because the pronounced acidity of Muscadet cuts too harshly against the lighter, more delicate flavor of these Pacific oysters served at Gustavus). And while I will always love the taste of glasz, my palate embraces all that differentiates the local delicacy. Come to think of it, it’s a taste that conjures the sunny turquoise waters and blissful white sand beaches of the world from which they came.
I wonder if the locals in Aklan have a word that describes the kaleidoscope colors of a tropical island paradise. It’s just a teasing thought for this avid oyster eater.
