by Julian Schultz
julian@oxfordwineroom.com
Frank Stelmach, his wife Maureen, and I overheard Castle’s master
sommelier/maitre d’ ordering food from his supplier for his annual game dinner:
Sika Venison, Yellow Fin Tuna, Duckling – “but not Aflac!” – Arctic Char,
Pheasant, Quail…and for the grand entrée a Rump Steak from heavy prime western
Black Angus Steer.”
Supplier: “Fine! But I got me sometin’ even better: heavy prime west’n...Blue
Angsious Steer!”
Frank Stelmach: “Nah! Need something more exotic than sissy Steer Rump Steak.
Need something with more machismo muscle, something with more gonads for the
gourmet! Humm, let me see…
…“Eureka! I have found it! Eureka! I have found it!…Royal Rosy Ass of Giant Red
Gorilla! There’s your entrée – Gorilla Rump Steak for us macho men! Now, we’re
talking no-nonsense noshing! You’ll be immortalized from here to Madam Booby’s
bada-bing, bada-bang, bada boom benevolent bouncing brothel by the babbling
brook of the Blackstone!”
Supplier: “Everytin’ OK, except fa da Royal Rosy Ass uv Giant Red Gorilla –
oompossible! Giant red gorillas grunt ‘n growl in da remotest, darkest, densest,
deepest Africa bush wit’ 25-foot flyin’ serpents and 50–foot crawlin’ reptiles
all aroun’…an’ I ain’t a’goin’ inta dat scary region, no how…not until…until the
Celtics win anodder baskitball champeenship.”
Stelmack, intrepid wild game hunter, ocean game fisherman, dedicated gourmet,
devoted trencherman, interjected: “Well, I fear neither man nor beast nor
wild-wild women; so I will venture into that dangerous African bush with
bazooka, rifle, bow ‘n arrow and stiletto and will return triumphantly with
Royal Rosy Asses from those Giant Red Gorillas.”
Jim: “I think maybe I better ask my Pop, grand master chef Stanley, about
including in the menu the Royal Rosy Asses of Giant Red Gorillas.”
……….
Jim returned, shaken: “ ‘No! No cotton pickin’ way!’ ” he said. “He reminded me
of when my brother John, of blessed memory, marched through the dining room at
an earlier game dinner with the carcass of a gruesome grinning giant alligator…
and half the women fainted right then and there, plopping down, sprawling all
over the floor.
“He said to substitute Blackbuck Antelope Sirloin with Venison Pastrami for the
grand entrée. Well, with the accompanying wines -- all 1983s: Savigny Les Beaune
from Burgundy, Rausan Segla from Margaux, Pergole Torte Monte Vertine from
Tuscany and Cabernet Sauvignon “Reunion” Inglenook from California – the grand
entrée should fly successfully.”
Stelmach moaned tearfully: “I’ve eaten everything that runs, walks, crawls,
creeps, slithers or flies, but never the Royal Rosy Ass of Giant Red Gorilla.
Denied it now, it’s going to be a sissy game dinner. I’m devastated.” His wife
Maureen wiped his eyes with her handkerchief.
I asked Frank – why was he carrying on so?
Frank: “I’ve eaten everything except gorilla, ecstatically chewed away on
anaconda, snakes, mountain lion, stripped tiger, crocodile, alligator, buffalo,
bear, rhino, hippo, kangaroo, emu, ostrich, elephant, giraffe, raccoon, giant
rats, bull moose, whale, shark, stingray, octopus, wild boar... even wine bore.”
“Wine bore!” I exclaimed.
“Yeah! I chew ‘em up and spit ‘em out. So you of all wine bore people better be
careful, Julian.
“And now after happily believing that I might have eaten away with the Royal
Rosy Ass of Giant Red Gorilla, I am prevented from doing so by Stanley Nicas…Gee,
I sure would like to get my teeth into one.”
“I think you should worry that the gorilla shouldn’t get his teeth into your
royal rosy ass first,” I said.
Dear reader, I should tell you that Frank is indeed an experienced and skilled
big game and big fish hunter.
He owns a lodge in Petersburg, Alaska, with individual cabins, where sportsmen
rent time at $1800 a week, all meals, fishing tackle and boat supplied, to hunt
for black bear and other animals and for fish (salmon primarily), halibut,
trout, cod, bottom fish, Dungeness and snow crab, oysters, octopus – whatever
resides below the water.
Sportsmen may elect to have their fish and/or bear cooked at the lodge. Hunters
are required to bring their own firearms.
Many local sportsmen repeatedly have availed themselves of Frank’s sportsman’s
facility and have returned with trophy size fish and animals. 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.
The dinner a week later: Reluctantly, dawdling, trying to ignore Jim’s
entreaties that we repair to the dining room for the appetizer course, most of
the 50 animated gourmets with longing last looks at the hors d’oeuvres table and
the food bearing waitstaff filed into the glowing festive Camelot room.
Son, Gordon, and I were the last to leave, snatching and continuing to savor the
addictive hors d’oeuvres of Grilled Sika Venison Bratwurst Sausage and Brie with
Blueberry-Honey Glaze; Black Peppered Yellow Fin Tuna Carpaccio; Smoked Maple
Leaf Farms Duckling --- not Aflac! -- with Grilled Pineapple Raviolis.
Irresistible! Irresistible! Irresistible! We ate and ate and ate – so to hell
with restraint or moderation! And with the Chateau Respide Graves 2003 white
wine – Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon, nuance of Muscadelle -- from France as
accompaniment, I would have been content to finish the dinner in the Crusader
function room with the hors d’oeuvres…But, oh, had I done so -- what I would
have missed!
First Appetizer: Arctic Char Fish “in the style of the Balkans”: sautéed and
served with Diced Tomato, Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Lemon, Feta Cheese, diced
Green Olives and accented with Thyme and Sage on Spinach Leaf.
The mélange of ingredients harmonized into a complexity of flavor that evoked
murmurs of delight from around the room. Consort wine, Vinho Branco Andrezza
2005 white wine – Alvarhino grape -- from Portugal was perfection.
Second Appetizer: Roasted Pheasant Breast stuffed with Force Meat of Quail and
Chestnuts, sliced and served with Fig-Accented Butter and Grilled Laurelwood
Farms Oyster Mushroom. Exceptional! I would like to have asked for seconds, but
after having recklessly and greedily chomped away on the hors d‘oeuvres…and the
grand entrée with four 1983 pedigree wines to come – sigh! Oh, well…..
The paired wine, Teroldego (grape name) Reserva 2001 Mezzacorono from Vento,
Italy – rich taste of plums, smooth, perfect balance – evoked an accolade from
wine authority Dr. Bob Ouellette about Jim’s expertise in wine and food pairing.
Gordon directed my attention to two women approaching our table – my nemeses –
Heartburn Helen and Indigestion Inez. I groaned and said these sisters have
hated me since, at an earlier Castle game dinner, I said that Sauvignon Blanc
was a poor man’s Chardonnay.
At every subsequent wine dinner, I added, whether at the Castle or elsewhere,
they sought me out to pepper me with abuse and sarcasm. Although I recanted many
times that ill-advised statement and apologized to them -- at times with almost
tearful eyes -- unforgiving they laser-beamed me with hard eyes and unconcealed
sneers.
Table members, Paul and Lillian Battaglia, asked me about that unfortunate
statement that continues to haunt me when in the presence of Helen and Inez.
The incident: The Castle at one of its monthly Sunday afternoon wine seminars
showcased 17 Sauvignon Blancs.
I sat between two empty chairs when Helen and Inez entered; they sought chairs
at the long table. With my customary cavalier gallantry, I rose and moved to one
of the empty seats at my side, bowed sweepingly and waved gracefully to the
attractive ladies to occupy the two seats now together. My gesture was
acknowledged with an indifferent nod, unsmiling.
I graciously introduced myself to my all-allure tasting companions, using my
smoothest Ronald Colman voice: “I’m Julian from Paxton, a regular here. How do
you do.”
Muttering, “So what?” Helen continued to study the menu of wines and stretched
her neck to inspect the bottles within her eyesight on the table. Inez,
answered: “Sister Helen and I – Inez -- from Newport, visiting.” Thereupon, she
pointedly ignored me.
I was undone by their rejection. For a moment I felt flattered. Did they think
at my venerable, hoary age I might try to make time with them? Or did they
regard me as a hayseed hick wine enthusiast from some backwoods village?
The answers came soon enough. These thirty-something provocative ladies were
pistol balls: Argumentative. Incisive. Impatient. But they knew their wines and
had me on the defensive most of the afternoon. Perhaps I should have disregarded
them. But I am stubborn; I didn’t.
The sisters totally ignoring me discussed the wines with each other. They sipped
and spit variations among two of the classic Sauvignon Blanc styles. I overheard
their comments:
One style is unblended – no Semillon or Muscadelle grapes are added; it is
boldly fruited; is stainless steel fermented; has pungent, grassy, spicy,
herbaceous aromas and flavors; is light, crisp and “green”; is similar to a
French Sancerre or Pouilly Fumé from eastern Loire.
The other style is blended with Semillon, is barrel-fermented with tastes of
oak, has lush fruit, crisp acidity, sweet grass and is lightly herbaceous; it is
characteristic of the great dry wines of Graves in the Bordeaux area.
I murmured that Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand is un-oaked, unblended and
represents the true unadulterated version of the varietal; it is fresh, lively,
with crisp acidity and unique flavor and is a marvelous match for a wide variety
of food.
I would have continued -- to impress them with my expertise. They regarded me
disdainfully and sneered me silent.
Throughout the afternoon, they described the wines as dry, semi-dry, crisp,
spicy, delicate, herb, freshly-mown grass, melon, green apple, green olives,
grapefruit – they used other descriptions that were more imaginative – some
weird.
I tried again to inject myself into their discussion, into their accepting me
with genuine good grace. I said that for me Sauvignon Blanc is often confused
with Chardonnay, especially when the Sauvignon Blanc emphasizes fruit and oak,
and that is why I frequently refer to it as “a poor man’s Chardonnay.”
“A poor man’s Chardonnay!!!” The silence was deafening. And came the onslaught:
They pelted me with a rata-tata-tata of machine gun bullets from their eyes.
“Showboat!” “Philistine!” “Barbarian!” “Nerd!” “Nutscape!” Other expressions
were not so civilized.
Give the ladies their due. They were experienced tasters: quickly sighted,
promptly swirled and sniffed, thoughtfully tasted the wine and chewed it while
jotting shorthand notes, used the spit container and sipped water before
sampling the next wine. Other than rebuffing me – Inez -- with “I don’t know
what you are talking about and I think you don’t either,” they did everything
right.
Since that unfortunate afternoon their hostility towards continues. But this
evening they did not stop at our table to skewer me with dagger-delivered eyes.
They stopped at the Stelmach’s table. Inez looked at me, snickered…and jabbed at
me from her waist with “the finger”…twice.
The Grand Entrée: No, not the Royal Rosy Ass of Giant Red Gorilla…but ecstatic
for me – and I’m sure for others – Black Antelope Sirloin roasted and sliced,
served on Creamy Risotto, ribboned with Venison Pastrami and Parmesan cheese,
accented with light Black Cherry Game reduction and crispy Vidalia Onion Strings
and baked Zucchini Rounds.
As the waitstaff – Joyce Pijus, Lynn Cronin, Nicole Marty, Patrick Howard and
Denise Nicas -- gracefully paraded through the dining room with elegance and
charm, their platters proudly held high, the aromas of the hot food and spices
and herbs wafted tantalizingly into our receptive nostrils. I couldn’t wait to
sip the four pedigree 1983 vintage wines with the grand entrée:
Savigny Les Beaune, from Burgundy, Beaune; 100 percent Pinot Noir grape;
Rausan Segla from Bordeaux, Margaux; 65 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 35 Merlot,
Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot;
Pergole Torte Monte Vertine from Tuscany; 100 percent “perfect” Sangiovese:
other grapes infusion not required;
Cabernet Sauvignon “Reunion” from California, Inglenook; 100 percent Cabernet
Sauvignon.
These 23-year-old wines were eminently drinkable. True, their youthful seductive
fruit was gone; matured into pleasant round, soft, smooth, aging complexity. I
preferred the four wines in ascending order: Pergole Torte, Rausan Segla,
Cabernet Sauvignon and Savigny. Their pairing with the Antelope Sirloin enhanced
the beef’s flavors.
Dessert: Rum, Golden Raisin, Cardamom Ice Cream in crisp, sugared pastry shell
escorted with Black Muscat and rare Black Hamburg Dessert Wine from Rosenblum
Cellars – taste of chocolate and cherry. Combined with Ice Cream…exceptional.
Coffee was served to those of us who lingered to recapture – to savor again –
the pleasure of the evening.
Wine Pick: Lockwood Sauvignon Blanc 2005, $10-$12. Fresh
and vivacious fruit-forward style captured with the absence of oak aging; melon
rind and green pear flavors augmented by aroma of grapefruit. Great
price/quality value.
Wine Pick: Trinchero Napa Reserve Mary’s Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc 2005, $24.
Flinty, steely underlaid with rich lush fruit, perfect lively fruit/acid
balance; smooth arresting swallow, lingering aftertaste. Seek out this gem and
sip with delight.
Email Comments to Julian at:
julian@oxfordwineroom.com