Worcester Wine Tasters, the Castle, in Spain

by Julian Schultz
julian@oxfordwineroom.com

                     

Dr. Bob Ouellette returned from a two-week sojourn in Spain. During that time, I missed hearing from my friend who phones me every day to check on my nearly 92-years-old well-being.

He and wife, Lu, related enthusiastically of their pleasure on the trip. I remembered my visit to Spain as host to our Sweet Life supermarket customers – the unusual places visited, the fascinating architecture seen, the different customs from ours, the delectable food and wines, the camera-friendly sights.

Yes, he and wife, Lu, enjoyed these, also, in addition to other places and experiences that had escaped me.

Bob knew I had been to Spain and suggested we compare experiences. I will intersperse some significant ones throughout this column that is about the Worcester Wine Tasters season-end breakaway dinner at the Castle Restaurant.
Twenty-eight of us eagerly anticipated Grand Master Chef, Stanley Nicas’ palate piquing culinary innovations and to discuss Dr. Bob Ouellette’s varied wine selections for their compatibility with the food: Did they enhance and perfect the flavors of the food? Or what? Did they did or did they didn’t? (Beloved English teacher wife, Lillian, is gone now; so I am unconcerned with the niceties of grammar.)

We did not need to wait, nor were we disappointed. Immediately upon arrival the nimble Castle waitstaff of Lynn Cronin, Joyce Pijus and Stilian Nika offered delectable hors d’oeuvres from heaped high platters in the King’s Court function room: innovatively flavored canapés of asparagus with wild mushrooms; large queen olives stuffed with marinated salmon.

Dr. Bob had exquisitely paired Burgundy’s Chateau Olivier Leflaive “Les Setilles” 2003 – lemon grass, vanilla, grass, toast, apples -- with the hors d’oeuvres, resulting in our euphoric, reckless, two-fisted incessant stuffing the mouth with the hors d’oeuvres and the relentless hand pumping of the wine to the palate.

The combination was Olympian in its splendor: a gourmet pairing worthy of the gods. It challenged the 28 of us to resist accepting their continued pass-arounds, which all of us defied…especially me! I defied the challenge with ravenous appetite vehemence…and – groan! -- came my morning-after lecture from Dr. Bob who worries about my welfare.

With much difficulty, Castle master sommelier/maitre d’ finally ushered us away from this reception course of what was much too good -- too soon to relinquish. Some of our savvier trencher people carried hors d’oeuvres wrapped in napkins and the wine into the sparkling Camelot festive dining room…sipping and munching away as we waited…

…The first course: Tilipia fish from Ecuador lightly sautéed Mediterranean style with feta cheese, black olives, tomato-accented brown butter, baby carrots, spinach, diced tomatoes and citrus butter. Un-be-live-ably exquisitely delicious, evoking hums of approval from among the tables.

The matching wine, Dehlinger Chardonnay 2003 was perfection: buttery, crisp green apples, subtle sweet oak, whiff of smoke, unsalted nuts, mouth-filling, smooth swallow, persistent aftertaste. Tablemate Arlene McGoldrick, rolling her baby blue orbs, pronounced the combination…“A-plus!”

Ah, Spain remembered. Good friend Dr. Bob’s great Spain trip adventure was unlike the two that I shall relate here: Estapona, the Atalaya Park Hotel, at the Costa do Sol, back in the early ‘70s.

Fifteen minutes before my scheduled seminar, hotel employees went on strike. Everything stopped, even the electricity. The hotel manager tried to calm my considerable consternation: “Nothing to fear,” he reassured me, “happens every week, lasts about an hour…until the police arrive and throw the business agent into the Black Maria.”

Sure enough. Siren wailing, the paddy wagon soon arrived; four policemen, wearing what looked like Mickey Mouse hats – points extending side-to-side – jumped from the vehicle and rushed at the business agent who was in the midst of his harangue; apropos of nothing, I was told.

Hotel employees cheered and whistled as the police hurried the business agent to the police van. He, in turn, pumped his arms triumphantly and threw kisses as the door slammed shut.

As the wagon sped away, the hotel manager said, “He’s an erratic, eccentric guy who calls a strike for nonsense reasons – like whenever his mother-in-law visits or his wife throws him out of bed.

“He boasts he owns a cat house mouse, which amuses his rank-and-file union members.”

I said, “I’m surprised the cats don’t catch it and eat it.”

The hotel manager laughed, “It’s not that kind of cat house…Anyway, everybody has a good time for an hour – the employees and even our guests when they understand that strikes are illegal here, unless sanctioned by the mayor.”

At dinner that evening, the hotel manager sought to mollify me with a bottle of Ibernoble 1967. The wine was superb. I can’t recall enjoying a Spanish wine more.

Back to the dinner. The main course: Duck Breast (not from Aflac) roasted and sliced, served on grilled vegetables couscous, asparagus spears, topped with a subtly-seasoned blueberry duck puree reduction. Sensational; loud decibels of enthusiasm with the alternatively sipped two red Burgundy wines:

Faively’s “La Framboise” Mercurey 1995: still drinkable but tottering on its way to wines’ Elysian Fields, taking its earthy, leathery, gamy complexity with it. Admirable for those of us with so-called “British Palates”; disappointing to oenophiles who prefer fresh fruit-laden wines.

Haut Cotes de Nuits from Jayer-Jilles 1995: drinkable, but hurry up! It had faded as I finished the dish; the sweet blueberry puree reduction and the fruit-stripped Pinot Noir-graped wine were hostile to each other. Burgundy Pinot Noir grapes produce shorter-lived wines than Bordeaux blended Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec and Petit Verdot wines.

My evaluations of these oldies were disputed by a number of other Worcester Wine Tasters who opt for fruit-muted complex wines reminiscent of raisins, black tea, dried leaves, game: “When I want to taste the fruit that makes the wine, I’ll buy the fresh grapes at the supermarket,” said Ivar Skavisky Skavar, recently of Russia, first time WWT member.

Back to Spain: At the hotel I noticed a stooped, gray-haired waiter constantly looking over to our table. While I was table-hopping among our some over 200 Sweet Life supermarket customers and their key employees, he approached Lillian and asked – was I “Majora Schultz from Egypt, the war?”

When Lillian said she was my wife, he elatedly kissed her on both cheeks, she said, and exclaimed excitedly, “My friend! My majora!’

When I returned to our table, he threw his arms around me: “Majora! Majora! It is me, Caesare! Remember? I was houseboy – you and Captain Dow – Payne Field!”

He kissed me on both cheeks twice. I remembered . He was an Italian army prisoner of war, of Spanish-Italian parentage, who left Spain to join Il Duce’s army.

He exchanged tables with another waiter to serve us. I was slightly uncomfortable with his constant happy chattering, recalling our 18 months at the desert airbase outside Cairo.

I had mentioned him in my autobiography when I wrote, “Farewell Cairo. …I exchanged sad goodbyes with officer friends who presented me with a major’s baton of camel leather, tipped with lead at both ends…suffered vigorous interminable handshakes and my uncontrollably weeping Italian POW orderly. He tried to give me his Saint Christopher’s medal. I was deeply moved. I gave him money in Egyptian pounds and American dollars, which I was sure he would need.”

Last breakfast at the hotel. Déjà vu: vigorous, interminable handshakes from an emotional Caesare who wept, saying we would never meet again. We hugged. I wept, also. I gave him a very generous tip.

Return to reality at the Castle. The closing course: salad with a variety of baby greens, shredded coconut-flavored Manchego cheese, big boy giant tomato slice, green grape jam, spinach and crumbled turkey bacon.

Three wines in magnum-size bottles: Silver Oak Cabernet Sauvignon 1978, BV Georges de Latour Cabernet Sauvignon “Private Reserve” 1980 – both from California; Chateau Joanin Becot Cotes de Castillon 2003, from France.

I wondered: Were the two ancient vintages still alive? Would they add or detract from the mingled sweet Manchego cheese/turkey bacon salad flavors?

I relished the exploration – the adventure ahead. Good or bad, we would benefit from the learning process.

The Silver Oak: still palatable in its complexity – earthy, gamy, meaty, some raisins and berries – but is shuffling off its mortality.
Georges de Latour: 26 years ago an Arnold Schwarzenegger of imposing muscularity, now a faded wrinkled old geezer...bereft of verve, vigor and vitality, which even Viagra couldn’t revive.
The Cotes de Castillon: big, mouth-filling fruit – deep plum, blackberry, raisin; hints of herb, spice, pepper, leather and cinnamon.

None of the wines enhanced- or subtracted from the flavors of the food. The oldies and once goodies were not lethal, and did afford browsing antique-tasting pleasure.

I was asked the question – what were my thoughts about tasting four old wines? I said that I was beginning to abandon my British Palate and now seem to prefer wines within four or five years of vintage – to enjoy their ripe fruit aromas and flavors.

It is fascinating, however, to see how older vintages develop with some age: They become spicier, earthier, and more deeply leathery in aroma and are less fruited; yes, they gain in complexity and elegance.

Are they better wines with age? I believe not. They are just different. Your palate is the arbiter.

My answer prompted the questioner to laugh: “See, the 2003 young Castillon is yawning within its bottle; is bored with your eloquent answer of the ‘yes’s and the ‘no’s’ about the merits of the older wines.”

Desiring to have the last word, I said, “When I am feeling eloquent and wish to elicit comment, I use descriptors of elegant nonsense: aristocratic…charming…ethereal…exotic…graceful…luxurious…luscious…noble…poetic…sensuous…stylish…vivacious…voluptuous…well bed…courageous…stylish.”

His riposte: “You might get a mental finger from your tablemates; certainly from me.”

If the last words that follow didn’t end the conversation, I would surrender and leave: “Wine stimulates my brain with eloquence and quickens my tongue with wit. So please ask Jim Nicas to pour for me some 2003 from Cotes de Castillon that will whet my mind and help me say something clever – like…

‘The flavor of this wine is like delicate poetry in my glass’;
‘Wine Is the intellectual part of the meal, food is merely the material part’;
Always sip a wine that is so profound, that it will make you chatter; and make sure you have something clever to say before you sip.’ ”

The questioner genuflected with a good-natured “you win” smile and departed.

So ended the dinner with steaming freshly-made coffee; enthusiastic accolades to Dr. Bob, Stanley and Jim Nicas for orchestrating another year-end triumphant breakaway dinner; lingering camaraderie as Jim kept pouring the wines.

Worcester Wine Taster monthly Monday meetings at Assumption College will resume in September.

Wine Pick: Loud River by LaPlaya from Chile 2005, around $12. Its Roaring Red label release is an ode to joy to the palate; its blend of 50 percent Petit Verdot, 40 Carmenere and 10 Cabernet Sauvignon, its unoaked bold fruit freshness and impeccable balance of fruit, fruit acids, alcohol, tannin and texture; its rich, spicy flavors of plums and blackberries; its smooth swallow and lingering aftertaste…is a bargain at even twice – thrice -- the price.
Go forth, my friends, and unless you hate yourself, seek it out.
 

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julian@oxfordwineroom.com