by Julian Schultz
julian@oxfordwineroom.com

                     


The late September warm autumn breeze wafted the brown and yellowing leaves across the sun-bathed restful lawn of my back property. I was listening to the haunting melodies from the movie, “The Hours.” Sentimentalist that I am, the scene caused my thoughts to slide nostalgically backward through the years to halt at Clark University where Billy Flip Flop Fleagle and I were students in the late 1930s.

We took the same drama, poetry, Shakespeare, Greek classics, fine arts, philosophy and music appreciation classes in conjunction with our primary psychology courses. We became friends…sort of: I would lose patience with his invariably changing his mind after he would agree to do something, to go somewhere, to join a campus organization.

Flip Flop’s floppings: Freshman year, he majored in economics; as a sophomore, switched to geography; joined me in my humanities and psychology courses as a junior. I cautioned him not to flip flop from psychology in his last two years because he wouldn’t have enough credits to graduate.

Well, one thing about him is that he is consistent: If he said a positive “yes” today, you could safely bet on it that tomorrow he would say a “no.”

At wine and food tastings, I could depend on him to describe, imperatively!, his perceptions of the wines and food. I could likewise depend on him to flip flop from his forcible convictions when they were inconsistent with consensus opinions.

Soon after he joined our International Wine & Food Society, Billy Fleagle became “Flop Flop Feagle” to our amused wining and dining members.

My guest, Arline McGoldrick, and I had arrived 15 minutes before the announced time of the International Wine & Food Society dinner at the Castle Restauant. Awaiting us on a table in an ice-cubed bucket was Majus Blanc by Ajello 2005, $13, a white wine from Sicily. A Sicilian wine? Ugh! I had disconcerting vibes about a wine from sunny hot Sicily.

The wine was excellent, vinified from obscure Grillo and Cattaratto grapes – more about the wine later. My hasty prejudice toward the Sicilian wine caused me to remember a Sweet Life supermarket customer saying of me, when in Jamaica he observed me cavorting with Playboy Club bunnies: “You never get to know a guy until you get to know him.” My bias was unfounded: You never get to know a Sicilian wine until……

Flip Flop protested my introducing him to guest Arline as “Flip Flop Fleagle” at the dinner: “Referring to me as ‘Flip Flop’ does me an injustice. I reserve the right to change my mind after listening to you…err… you gruesome guys and goofy girlies pompously pontificating.

“What you don’t know – ha- ha! – is that after I dwell further on the matter and I am alone with my thoughts and absent your juvenile judgments, I invariably return to my original expert evaluations…my astute convictions.

“So my perceived flip-flopping about which you so snidely belittle me…is…merely…temporary. I flip flop…baaaack!”

So why do I introduce Flip Flop into this wine column about the International Wine & Food Society’s season-opening wine dinner at the Castle?

Answer: He…did…not…change…his…mind when he agreed to attend this dinner; he did not flip flop from a yes-I-will-attend to a no-I-changed-my-mind.

I had alerted Arline to Billy’s flip flopping and said that she shouldn’t be surprised if suddenly he shook his head in disgust, threw his hands up in frustration and made a wild dash to the door.

We apprehensively held our breaths during the introduction of new members and guests: Flip Flop remained soldier-straight stationary in his chair at our table. Unexpectedly, he did not bolt! His comportment was a mouth-gaping surprise to me.

At the wine pouring table, all toothy smiling and oozing unctuous charm he sidled up to Arline – facetiously, exaggeratedly, ignoring me. He sighted, swirled, sniffed, savored, and spoke about the Majus reception wine and the hors d’oeuvres of hummus canapés, salmon pinwheels and mushroom strudels that he was voraciously gormandizing .…and stayed put! Rooted in place closely by Arline’s side.

He later said, jokingly – a departure from his customary somber personality -- “No cotton pickin’ way would I change my mind and leave this statuesque, charming, pretty lady of the frivolous eyes and merry smile at my side.” He trumpeted his admiration loud enough to be overheard by Arline and guests within earshot. I believe he was coming on to Arline.

When I studied the menu of the hors d’oeuvres, my vibes became euphoric: The three hors d’oeuvres would overwhelm my initial shortcomings of the…groan!...Sicilian wine.

My fears – my prejudice – were groundless: The Majus was excellent and, if anything, enhanced the lingering, delicious flavors of the hummus and roasted red pepper canapés, marinated salmon and crepe pinwheels, and wild mushroom strudel.

Flip Flop, clapping his hands: “They can “stuff” the balance of this dinner. I am content to eat and sip away on everything right now that’s being served! These hors d’oeuvres are irresistible and the wine beautifully complements them.”

Arline: “But Flipperino, my friend, give serious attention to the swordfish medallions and the lamb shank shown on the menu and the three Chateauneuf du Papes 1998, and how about the dessert and ice wine? Surely, you can’t be serious and forgo them?”

Flip Flop stopped sipping the Majus and stopped eating away on the hors d’oeuvres and studied the menu: “Well, pretty lady, my mind is changed! I shall grapple to my palate with hoops of steel the balance of what is on the menu and no longer shall I dull my palate with this la-de-da reception food.

“And I promise you now, my hand trembling over throbbing heart, that I will not change my mind. So let it be remembered that my firm hue of resolution was not sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought…hence no flip flopping, thanks to you, pretty lady.”

Arline, open-mouthed, whispered to me, “Where’d you find this nutcake? He speaks like from outer space.”

I said that he has flip flopped himself back into Shakespeare’s time, like 500 years ago.

Came the swordfish second course. Billy was expostulating non-stop, his wine-free arm sawing the air, on the merits of the Chateau Pesquie “La Terrasses” 2002, Cotes du Ventoux that accompanied the swordfish medallions with plum, nectarine, tomato, melon salsa and pomegranate infused white wine butter sauce. Bored, glazed-eyed, Arline was like to swoon. I hurried to her rescue.

“It’s got a decided sweet edge,” Billy said. “Is not dry, is cement hard on the palate, is not particularly crisp, has searing tannins, and has just enough fruit acid for barely acceptable balance, but at $13 is it worth it? Does it prove the adage that silken purses may be made from sow’s ears?”

“I disagree with your perception of the wine, Billy. I find it dry, crisp, fruity, nicely balanced with a sweet-edged zesty fruit acid sting; it is from a prestige Rhone wine growing region. It needs time in the glass – to aerate and soften. Jim hits the jackpot once again with this inexpensive selection, a combination of Sirah, Carignane and Grenache grapes.”

Billy tasted again, his mien serious, probing, as Arline and I slid away. A few minutes later he was discussing the wine with Patty Giannopoulos. He likes to talk wine with charming, beautiful ladies.

I heard him say, “Sweet-edged, somewhat crisp, zesty acidity, enough delicious fruit, soft tannins, and texture for optimum balance; but needs time in the glass to breathe and soften; pure perfection with the swordfish medallions. It proves that silken purses may be made from sow’s ears.” Billy’s turn around statement upheld his flip flop renown.

The tender, complex swordfish medallions paired exquisitely with the – “oh, no, no red wine; horrors!” – with the fish. The accompanying plum, nectarine, tomato and melon salsa with pomegranate infused butter blissfully wedded the dish…disproving the “white wine with fish, red wine with meat” holy wine gospel dogma.

Jim interrupted the serving by bringing a large orange/pink rose – “peach!” argued Billy, glaring at me -- to each female member at the tables, eliciting murmurs of appreciation for his romantic gallantry.

We shared a lively fun table with the Messiers, the Gormleys and the Borias. Bill Messier, in particular, amused us with anecdotes of past wine events in which he and I were embarrassingly involved.

The piece de resistance of the dinner: huge-portioned braised lamb shank with vegetable orzo and varied seasoned chopped vegetables that added complexity to the lamb sauce -- a stunning, mouth-watering presentation glorified with three 1998 Chateauneuf du Papes from the vineyards of Vieux Donjon, Chateau Fortia, and Gabriel Meffre.

The lamb showcased Master Chef Stanley’s culinary magic: Prepared tender to the cut of the fork, moist to the palate, delicately seasoned, it evoked murmurs of approval that could be heard throughout the function room.

The fun was to taste the three wines immediately, one after the other, to ascertain which wines paired better with the lamb.

Billy had seated himself close to Arline at our table. I asked him, what did he think of the wines?

“OK, I guess,” he said, “but all the wines need bottle time to soften…despite their being 16 years old. But fast forward five years from now the wines would come alive and would be blissfully married to the sensational, delicious lamb. Agree?”

“Yes, Billy,” I said, “I agree with you about the lamb. Indeed, it is superb…a masterpiece of culinary delight. But, no, Billy, I’m not so sure of my having to wait five years before I can enjoy these wines. All we need do is permit them to sit in the glass for 15 or 20 minutes; then they would marry magnificently with the lamb.”

Billy, triumphantly, addressed Arline: “See we agree; that was my meaning: letting these wines age for awhile in glass to marry successfully with the lamb.”

“Whaa!” I whispered to Arline – “Do I hear him right? Does he equate the time of his five years to my 15/20 minutes?”

Zacko Wheat, the society’s jester, and his significant other, Bonnie Bangemboys, came over: “Hi, Flipper,” he said smirking, “how are you turning yourself over tonight? You being your consistently inconsistent self?”

“Ha, ha! Bi…ig fun…ny!” Billy added sarcastically, “Your foolish facetiousness and asinine aspersions to my flip flopping aside – if you had flip-flopped before you popped the question to gold digger Greta last year, you would wouldn’t be wallowing in alimony anguish now.

“At least when I change my mind, I change it before it is too late, before I make a dumb commitment that has to be undone…as you are undone now with monthly alimony payments.”

Zacko, muttering that he didn’t understand that “convoluted statement,” and taking Bonnie by the arm sheepishly slunk away.

I and other table members agreed on order of preference, that the Chateauneuf Vieux Donjon was first, followed by Gabriel Meffre and Chateau Fortia.

Billy said he couldn’t understand why three Chateauneufs of the same vintage year would be so different. I said that there are some 13 grape varieties that are permitted in the wine blend although usually four, or five at most, are selected.

So wine makers’ selections from among the 13 grape varieties may not be the same…and if they happened to be the same, the ratios used in the blend might be different which would account for any dissimilarity.

He asked me for some descriptors I had used in my preference selections. “Leather, game, meat,” I said, “dusty cherries, toasty walnuts, smoke, tart, tobacco, tar, smoked meat, rubber, cough medicine--”

Billy threw his arms up in dismay and turned to Jim Nicas who was giving second pours of the Chateauneufs and asked Jim the question he asked of me. He accompanied Jim to the adjoining table as Jim poured.

Returning, he announced triumphantly, “There you go, the three of us agree – Jim, me and you!”

I looked quizzically over at Jim who chuckled, shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head in amusement.

I never got to ask Billy how he described the three Chateauneufs. He was studying two plastic cards that he had taken from his wallet. “What gives?” I asked.

“Oh, just confirming my impression of ’98 Chateauneufs,” he answered airily. “The vintage is given between 92 and 97 on one card and between 6 and 7 on a 1 to 7 scale on another. Yep, they confirm my assessment of these wines. I’m going to see Friendly Discount Liquor’s Patty Giannopoulos tomorrow and order some.”

“Jim Nicas said you might need to pay something like $105 a bottle.”

Billy gasped: “You kidding!? You know, I think I will ask Patty to recommend a nice red Cotes du Rhone that will cost me for cheap. I’ll think of her sweet smile and dancing eyes and imagine I’m drinking the Chateauneufs.”

“Way to go Billy,” I said congratulatory.

Stupendous dessert: blend of white peaches, raspberries, blueberries on a barvois cream (like ice cream). Bonnie Doone Muscat Ice Wine – luscious, crisp and sweet – was perfection with the fruited dessert.

And so ended yet another sensational Castle wine dinner. It didn’t take much imagination to understand why Master Chef Stanley Nicas and son, Jim, Master Sommelier and Maitre’ d, had been conferred these prestigious titles.

Wine Pick: Trinchero Reserve Merlot 2003, $27. Plums, currants, spice, blackberries, vanilla, leather layered aromas transfer to the palate and linger long; beautifully balanced with tannins, alcohol and texture; smooth swallow, persistent aftertaste.

Wine Pick: Clos du Val Pinot Noir 2003, $24. Intense red and black fruit aromas; black cherries and strawberries flavors remain firmly on the palate; all vinous elements are nicely balanced, leading to a smooth swallow and fruit lingering aftertaste.




 

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