by Julian Schultz
julian@oxfordwineroom.com
“Frank, what are you doing here?” I was surprised to see Frank
Stelmach at the recent Castle Restaurant annual game dinner.
Frank’s voice was snappish, his face was frowned with consternation:
“Whatdaya mean, what am I doing here? I attend all Castle wine dinners,
same as you do.”
“Yes, but last year you said the Castle game dinner was a game dinner
for sissies, that Stanley and Jim Nicas didn’t cook up any red-blooded,
he-man, urine-discoloring – purple I think you said -- macho game stuff that
suits your discriminating and salivating palate. You were moaning, groaning and
decrying the absence of bona fide, gruesome grisly game that you
are accustomed to. So, I repeat, why are you here, here at this for
“sissies” game dinner?”
Frank laughed: “You’ve got a good memory, Julian. But I’m here to
get my palate prepped for my trip to Brazil’s most remote jungles, where I
will feast on dinosaurs primarily, but also on flying monster pterodactyls and
on every prehistoric reptile I see. Yummy, yum, yum!”
I
said, “I am told the 30-foot crocodiles should be particularly toothsome this
year – a vintage optimum climate with good tenderizing sunshine and beaucoup
water nutrients.” I lied a little when I told him that.
Ecstatic, Frank continued, “I developed a penchant for alligators and crocs after John Nicas prepared an alligator osso buco at a game dinner some few years ago, which I loved. Just like the white meat chicken that Maureen (wife) prepares.
“And when John paraded into the dining room with the 10-foot fearsome
repugnant carcass, its scissors-like teeth gleaming like it was ready to bite, I
was drooling with anticipation of asking for- and devouring seconds. Too bad
that I had to attend Maureen who fainted dead away at the sight of carcass, as
did other women and a few men…I think you did, too, Julian. The floor of the
Castle dining room was littered with bodies; looked like a Civil War makeshift
morgue after a battle.”
“I did not!” I hastened to correct Frank. “I did not faint dead
away! I even asked John for the carcass so that I could have an alligator bag
made for Lillian. That’s how unafraid I was.” So again I lied a little! I
was not about to destroy my machismo image by admitting that more smelling salts
were used on me than on everyone else combined.
Frank: “I dunno know, Julian. That blonde broad with the billowing big
bust and unbuttoned blouse, was leaning all over you shoving the smelling salts
up your snoot, but instead of getting better you seemed to be getting worse!”
I tapped my temple meaningfully with my forefinger: “I didn’t want
her to go away. I liked the view from underneath.”
I then asked Frank, “What will you take with you when you make the trip
-- a small cannon, an armor-piercing bazooka, a bow with poisoned arrows?
What?”
“Nah, that’s weaponry for novices. I will take only lethal Polish
garlic and a bag full of pork chops. That’s all!”
“I am mystified,” I said. “I don’t understand. Am I hearing you
correctly? Why garlic and pork chops?”
Frank smiled tolerantly at my ignorance: “The pungent stinky smell of
garlic would ward off dinosaurs if I should fall and they were about to chew on
my ass; also, Polish garlic would frighten away evil spirits and vampires,
should I encounter them.”
“I can understand that about garlic. Hell, the most beautiful girl in
the graduate school division when I was at Clark must have eaten raw garlic
before I kissed her. And I when I did, whoosh! My libido soared into the
stratosphere and was out of commission for three limp listless celibate months
from the trauma, and hers wasn’t even the Polish variety.”
“Hummm, that is funny,” said Frank perplexed. “Garlic is supposed
to stimulate virility. Taken routinely it will put the Viagra out of
business.”
I was confused: “Oh, is Viagra a new name for it?” I said. “Is that
what you call it now, a Viagra, mine that was put out of business? So my Viagra
was defused because I kissed the begarlicked gorgeousness? …
…“Well, anyway, Frank, what about the bag full of pork chops? I
can’t fathom your bringing food from the pig to carnivorous reptiles,” I
said.
“Oh, just in case they may be Jewish or Muslim reptiles.” he said,
smirking. “They wouldn’t then dare attack me, carrying pork chops – not
kosher.”
Frank’s answer when I asked him, what big game has he eaten:
“anaconda, snakes – I prefer Tennessee varieties to Alabama’s – mountain
lion, stripped tiger, crocs and alligators, giraffe, buffalo, wild boar – the
wilder, the better – bear, rhinoceros and hippo, kangaroo, emu, camel –
great gonads, on those camels – ostrich, elephant, gazelle, raccoon, giant
rats, bull moose, whale, shark, stingray, octopus –--.”
Frank didn’t run out of breath. I began to tremble and shake and begged
him to stop. I didn’t want to be lying on the Castle floor again, sniffing
smelling salts, unless the blonde with the billowing big bust and unbuttoned
blouse….
A word about Frank: He is indeed, really, truly, a big game hunter and
big fish angler. He eats everything that walks, creeps, crawls, and flies,
except gorillas – “remind me of one of Maureen’s relatives” -- and
saddle-wearing mosquitoes – “they draw blood before I can put my choppers
into one,” he says. He has traveled throughout the world where wild game is
prevalent and mammoth fish dominate the deep.
He owns the Island Point Lodge in Petersburg, Alaska, with individual
cabins, where sportsmen rent time for $1500 a week, all meals, fishing tackle
and boat supplied, to hunt for black bear and other animals or fish – salmon
primarily, but halibut, trout, cod, bottom fish, Dungeness and snow crab,
oysters, octopus – whatever resides below the water, including topless
mermaids (big lure to red-blooded macho men).
Sportsmen
may elect to have their catches cooked at the lodge. Hunters are required to
bring their own firearms.
May localities repeatedly -- like every year, some twice a year -- have
availed themselves of Frank’s Island Point Lodge and have returned with
trophy-size fish and mammoth size game. For fishermen so desiring, fish is
frozen and packed for transport.
Frank lives in Douglas, MA, and may be reached at 1-508-476-3538. E-mail
address is frank@islandpointlodge.com.
His son manages the facility full time in Frank’s absence.
Now to the game dinner:
Some 55 gourmets and palateers hailed the culinary artistry of Master
Chef Stanley Nicas’ and sommelier/maitre d’ Jim Nicas’ wine selections.
Truly, the winter of our discontent – snow covered and cold – was made
glorious summer in the cheerfully candlelit Castle dining room.
The
dinner was classic Castle, expectedly. In addition to three fabulous 1990
Cabernet Sauvignons, we sipped Provence, Rhone, Muscat Ice Wine and Madeira
wines.
Reception:
Nantucket scallops and Alaskan King salmon bundled and sautéed with a
pineapple-honey glaze, and terrine of rabbit pate centered with quail tenderloin
and served with balsamic sweet syrup.
The
paired wine, new to me and to most everyone, Rouviere Routas Vineyards 2002,
$15, from France’s Provence region, a rosé blend of Grenache, Syrah and
Cinsault, had us sipping with pleasure.
My
son, voraciously and relentlessly devouring the hors d’oeuvres and smacking
his lip while sipping the wine, said, “I don’t want…don’t need any of
the dinner to follow. I’m content to feed up on and sip down on these.”
My
notes on the Rouviere: “smooth as velvet, elegant as silk, rich nose, flavors
reminiscent of blood oranges, raspberries, cherries; counterpoint and complement
to the hors d’oeuvres.”
I
called out loudly to where Frank, glowing, was gustatorily engaged with gusto.
My son shushed me: “Mom would kill you, Dad, for shouting that way!”…Yes,
she would have remonstrated with me in no uncertain terms...My eyes teared up.
I
asked Frank for his opinion of the reception course: “Everything out and out
delicious, no doubt about that. I’ve put away about a dozen each of the hors
d’oeuvres and five – I counted -- of wine refills. But for he-man
consumption the rabbit would have to go, replaced with hairy tenderized raccoon
with a smear of Tabasco sauce. Man, that’s eating!”
Frank
pointed to the Mako shark fillet, marinated in red pepper/Vidalia onion puree,
grilled and served with roasted red peppers, crumbled Tobias blue cheese, and
red pepper-infused butter. “Sissy stuff. I used to catch these suckers, would
chew ‘em raw, ‘n spit ‘em out -- grrr! grrr!”
My
daughter-in-law Ev turned to me: “Dad, just who is this person, Frank?”
“He
is a big game/fisherman hunter who travels the world over, looking for unusual
things to eat – alive or dead, makes no difference. He is also a fellow member
of the Chevaliers du Tastevin, Chaine des Rotisseurs, International Wine &
Food Society wine organizations.” I thought she would be impressed.
Ev:
“Gosh, Dad, you know such strange people!”
I
suggested to Frank that he wait to see how Stanley prepared “this sucker.”
Frank smiled and nodded OK.”
Crozes
Hermitage Viognier 2000, $25, Rhone Vins de Vienne vineyard, accompanied the
shark: “lush, melon, pineapple, sweet grass, hint of almonds; crisp, clean,
lively; smooth swallow and lingering aftertaste. Goes perfectly with the
fish.”
The
shark graciously subordinated itself to the exemplary Viognier. So far so good
with better even to come.
Baked
“Springwell Farms” pheasant breast, stuffed with chopped mushrooms, onions
and shallots, and sautéed with leeks wrapped in phyllo, was served with a red
wine reduction and was paired to Agrippa Chateau Routas 1998, $20, 50-percent
blends of Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah.
I
wondered how much better could this dinner could get. “This pheasant we are
savoring and the Agrippa we are sipping are so far removed from mundane
dining,” Ev whispered to me. “I am thrilled to be venturing into this
gourmet fare.” She leaned over and kissed me, expressing her delight.
I
beckoned Frank to come over: “All right, Frank – your considered and
unbiased opinion of the food and wines here? I rated them straight A for
excellence.”
Frank
made with the rounded thumb and forefinger and high-fived me. I took that to
mean he didn’t disagree.
I
didn’t need the sorbet of pomegranate essence: A sparkling wine to cleanse and
neutralize the palate would have sufficed. I can never win, my protesting a
“dessert” before the piece de resistance wine(s) and showcased entrée.
Ah,
the eagerly awaited main course and three 1990 prestigious California Cabernet
Sauvignons were coming. The dining room was electrified with anticipation. Even
the conversation was muted as Jim properly poured the wines before we
were served the roasted Texas antelope filet, embellished with wild rice of high
protein grains from South America and a palate-boggling sauce of orange,
walnuts, port wine and game reduction. Honey-sweet carrot and green beans added
color to the plate and protuberance to the stomach.
Daughter-in-law
Ev: “Dad, I’m about to swoon as I almost did when Gordon first looked into
my eyes. I’m feeling the same thrill…after 19 years. Oh, romantic me!”
The
wines. Wine aficionados couldn’t sight, sniff, savor, and swallow the wines
fast enough, although we know better than to rush great wines to the senses.
With
a sommelier’s flair and high drama, Jim deftly poured the fabulous Fisher
“Insignia,” Louis Martini “Monte Rosso,” and William Hill “Reserve,”
each wine in the $80-a-bottle category, each 100 percent Cabernet Sauvignon.
Gordon
sniffed and sipped slowly…and dabbed his eyes: a surprising show of emotion
from this usually blasé, ho-hum, “I’ve-seen-it-all” Boston lawyer. “I
can’t believe all this, Dad,” he whispered.
As
I repeatedly sniffed and sipped each of the three wines, fascinated by their
similarities and differences, I trod once again that enchanted garden redolent
of roses, berries, cherries, mint…a romantic reverie of my long ago
adolescence, currently now with stars of wine on my palate.
Soft
and sensual, the wines’ multi-fruited, complexity-matured flavors evoked gasps
of delight from mesmerized palateers.
I
rose to my feet, “California cabs at their best!” I pronounced with my
annoying all-too-familiar pomposity…
Oh,
the antelope! Tender, tasty and thankfully not tough as antelope and venison can
be when not prepared by an expert chef.
Frank
came over, his face wreathed with smiles of exuberance: “Julian, this
combination of antelope and cabernet sauvignons are out of this world; it’s a
novelty to have each of the three wines so expertly married with lean game;
antelope can be tough and stringy if not prepared expertly. Only pros of the
highest order could so successfully make this work. My hat’s off to Stanley
and Jim. Right?”
“Agreed!”
Dessert.
Rich black forest torte, skyscraper high, feather light and sinfully delicious
was proudly escorted with a rare treat: Bonny Doon Vin Glacier Muscat Ice Wine
2000, $20, 375 mg. bottle (think $40, for conventional 750 mg. bottle). I became
ecstatic, as I tasted apricots, peaches and pears with subtle hints of honey and
ginger, underlaid with a steely, acidy, lively spine.
What
is ice wine? Answer: a rare wine made from grapes that are frozen when a freeze
follows extended days of warm sunshine. The totally ripened grapes are pressed
while frozen; their sugar content is concentrated and locked in by the ice
coating. The result: a wine that is luscious, unctuous, sweet and complex with
fruit acids that prevent cloying; comparable to the inordinately expensive great
German trockenbeerenauslesen or beerenauslesen sipping and/or dessert wines.
Five
year old Old Madeira “Rainwater,” a one for the road wine, concluded one of
the best Castle game dinners ever. Even intrepid “Jungle Jim” Frank Stelmach,
off to challenge and munch on the monsters, agreed.
Kudos
to lightning fast, impeccably efficient, ever smiling, professionally trained
waitstaff: David McNamara, Grigor Nikis, Erin Power, Lynn Cronin, Josh Suprenant
and Joyce Pigus? You made the evening even more enjoyable.
Wine
Pick: Midnight Cellars Chardonnay 2000, $15, a 13.9 percent delight. My notes:
“superb fruit of apples, citrus, tropical fruit varieties; balanced with
lively acidity, sweet spice, and creamy viscosity; palate rich, smooth swallow,
lingering farewell.” Recommended as a “must buy.”
Email Comments to Julian at:
julian@oxfordwineroom.com