The French Version of Juicing, Part Deux

Driving to Beaune is not so bad if you're not the one driving. Personally, I hate driving almost as much as I hate laundry. Like anything else, there are aspects to doing laundry that I don't mind, like the washing and drying bit. But the ironing, folding and putting away part? Blech! Same goes for driving: sunny day, convertible top down, no traffic, I'm okay. Anything else brings on a “double ugh” just thinking about it. What always amazes me is when someone says that they're “going out for a drive.” WHAT? Driving without a destination in mind? For no reason? That would be like me saying, “Hey, you know what? I think I'm going to put some pleats in my jeans.” You know, just for the heck of it…

Fortunately, I did not have to drive, but instead had the pleasure of sleeping for most of the three plus hours that it took to get there. (In case you were wondering, Paris is 200 miles from Burgundy.) When I did wake up and glance out my window, it was quite the view to behold.

Beauty as far as the eye could see. Hills and valleys of vineyards. And we couldn't help but notice that, even though there was sign marking entry into Beaune, it really wasn't needed. You can see the entire town in all its glory way before actually reaching it, just like when Dorothy, Toto and the rest of the gang first discovered The Emerald City of Oz. It was stunning! Mother Nature obviously spent a lot of time in the Côte-d'Or! (By the way, the trick I used when first learning the pronunciation of Côte-d'Or is this: when you walk out the door, you put your coat on. Put the two together and you get coat + door = Côte-d'Or! It may not sound the same way a Parisian would say it, but it's close enough. Another trick I still use is to imitate Inspector Clouseau anytime I try to speak French. I have found that there are lots of words that, if said with a French accent, will allow you to be understood by most of our Gallic brothers and sisters, saving you valuable time when shopping for necessities. Like razors…)

Here is my short tale of shopping woe: I stood in a Parisian pharmacy a good ten minutes trying to buy a razor. Why so long, you ask? For starters, I don't speak French, and the salesclerk could not understand what I was asking her for. Let the charades begin! There I was, like a mime, pretending to shave my face, legs and even my underarms. Finally, her eyes widened as the light bulb went off, and she said to me, “Ah, RAE ZORE!” Okay, I'm sorry, but at the risk of sounding like the obnoxious American, come on! Razor and Rae Zore? Pleeeeeze….

(It wasn't quite as bad as this scene between Tarzan and Capt Phillippe, but close...)

Brief history of the Cote d'Or and Pinot noir: The Côte-d'Or used to be a former province of Burgundy, and was created during the French Revolution. The climate is ideal for growing the temperamental Pinot, as it is oceanic with semi-continental tendencies. (In other words, it rains a lot in the fall and hardly at all in the summer.) The grape varietal Pinot noir is sensitive to wind, frost and cropping levels. (It it also low yielding for production of quality wines, which is one of the reasons why it’s expensive.) There are many other factors that contribute to the difficulty in growing this grape, such as its thin skin, which makes it more susceptible to mildew than other grape varieties. Andre Tchelistcheff declared that God made Cabernet Sauvignon, whereas the Devil made Pinot noir!

We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast in Flagey-Echezeaux, situated right next door to “The Church.” (Every town has one, and they're easy to find since they’re always the tallest building.) My initial reaction was, Great! Now I won't have to worry about getting lost since the steeple was an easy spot, inside the village or out! As I pondered this thought, the church bells rang. Charming, right? Yes, at noon it's very charming, but at 7AM, it's a whole different story. The only thing missing from the scene was someone with a hump yelling, “Sanctuary!”

But by Day Two, I decided to switch my attitude and make friends with the bells. Turns out they did me a favor, waking me early enough to have a workout before another 24 hours of eating and drinking began! For the record, that was the theme of 99% of this journey. It was T.A.D. all the way! Translation: we tasted, we ate, and we drank. During that other 1% we found a stable. How happy was I? Horses and wine are two of my favorite things in life. And yes, we even rode through the vineyards. Pinch me! I was in heaven.

(Ecurie Sur Lavale - located in chevannes)

To my surprise, I preferred the food of Burgundy to that of Paris. I’m only going to mention the places I’d revisit, but that’s not to say that the others weren’t good. They were, but to me it makes sense to focus on the real winners, and of course warn you of the losers, in Burgundy. I'm happy to report that there weren't any of the latter. (I only wish I could say the same for Paree, but that’s for another chapter of this four part blog on French juicing…)

I’ll start with our bistro in Beaune called Le Gourmandin, which is located right in the heart of town. You couldn't get a better location if you tried, and the food was top notch. Great start to our arrival and it didn't hurt that Murph brought with him a bottle of '96 Grand Echezeaux, Gros Frere to toast our 1st night.

Then there was Restaurant Simon, which was right next to our B and B in Flagey-Echezeaux. (Hopefully, if you ever visit Restaurant Simon, you won’t get our server. Her energy was like someone’s who had to pee really, really badly while stuck on a very long lady’s room line. Beware!)

Day Two was also spent tasting wines at Domaine Maume in, Gevrey- Chambertin. Bertrand Maume, the proprietor was so kind to give us a tour of his facility. He shared his new releases and even some older ones as well. To top off his generosity he even gave us a couple of bottles to take with us to lunch. We left the Village of Gevrey-Chambertin and headed to the restaurant, Le Chassagne.

Le Chassagne is in the village of Chassagne-Montrachet. They had such delightful staff, and the scrumptious menu is on the top of my list for a return visit. (But there is one restaurant in particular that really stands out for reasons I will explain in my next blog.)

On Day Three we dined for lunch at Le Millésime in the village of Morey-Saint-Denis, just before we left for our tasting at Domanie Jean-Marc Bouley. I must confess that, at this point, all the food was starting to get to me and my waist-line. But I was in the trenches now and there was no turning back. Since we were going to be tasting right after our meal, I was careful not to have anything that would hinder my palate, such as coffee.

The dining room at Le Millésime was elegant, yet it was not required that the men wear a jacket... come to think of it, there was not one place we dined in Beaune where a jacket was required. How nice for my son and Murph to dine "fine" in comfort!

Once lunch was over, it was off to the vineyard. Jean-Marc Bouley makes some very sexy juice from the areas of Pommard, Volnay and Beaune, and he can trace his family of wine growers all the way back to 1527. His wines were so bright and easy to drink that I have invited both Jean-Marc and his son (whom I met in a most nontraditional fashion) to come to New York and host a tasting with me.

While we were busy tasting some of the new releases, his son was busy working, at one point in his underwear. Yes, he scurried past us, took off his pants, and then proceeded - pitchfork in hand - to climb into one of the large vats filled with recently harvested grapes. (TALK ABOUT DEDICATION!) He then shoveled the grapes, stems and all, into the de-stemmer. It’s quite the process to make wine, as you can imagine... the days of stomping are, in almost all cases, sadly gone.

Until next time,
Beaune Voyage

The French Version of Juicing, part one

With my Number One Son practicing kung fu in China, Miss America spending time with her BF, and my Viva la France wine event completely ruined by Irene, I thought to myself, “Self, why not just hop a plane to France?”







So I packed a bag for my younger son Zazi (who is homeschooled - talk about a field trip!) and me, and off we went to rendezvous with my good friend Murph in “Gay Paree"

Paris was only one leg of this ten day excursion. The other was Burgundy, also known as The Golden Slopes (or, Côte d'Or pronounced coat door)

We flew Air France Business Class, which was such a treat. There was a time in my life when I couldn’t understand why anyone would pay that much money for a plane ticket - after all, we would all be arriving at the same time regardless of where we sat, right? I mean, really: how much better could it be?







The difference between flying Coach and Business is the same as driving a Pinto versus a Mercedes. (And, I hear that flying First Class is the airline industry’s version of driving a Maybach!)

While in transit, I interviewed one of the flight attendants to get the inside scoop. He said that for starters, the seats in First Class are larger and have better cushions. They also fully recline into a bed (hello!), the food and wine are of higher quality, and you can request your meal whenever you want as opposed to Business, where the only food options are a gourmet meal OR an express meal consisting of appetizer, cheese and dessert. Oh, and the TV screen is slightly larger.

Perhaps in a future blog I’ll be able to give you an actual account of a First Class experience. But for now I can share with you the varied pleasures of Business, and how my son and I giggled like yokels as we played with the buttons on our seats, pretended that our light was a microphone, and mistook our foot rest for the luggage compartment.



The food was more than just edible: it was downright tasty! Here’s a sampling of the choices: pan seared veal, scallops sautéed in olive oil and oven-roasted guinea hen. (Obviously, Daniel Boulud's staff is not cooking for Air France…)

On the other hand, the wines were…drinkable. I felt the same way about them as I would about someone who is not topping the list of fun folks to hang out with: you know, if nothing else was going on and they called...you get the idea. My inflight wine was the 2007 Chateau de Villambis Haut-Medoc .



Here's a bit of trivia for you: every year, Air France serves its passengers flying in La Première and Business Class 870,000 bottles of wine and over one million bottles of champagne. Air France is also the only airline to offer all its passengers free champagne on board its international, long-haul flights, even in the Voyageur* cabin. (*That’s Coach, by the way – everything sounds better in French, doesn’t it?)




There is also a station set up during each flight serving soda, wine, twelve year old scotch, cookies, fruit, and chocolate should you have a craving for something sweet in between watching movies on demand.


Yes, life can be pretty darn fine at 30,000 feet…

Side note: here are some travel tips I’ve learned from flight attendants over the years…first, drink plenty, and I mean plenty, of water, as the only thing drier than the air inside a plane is the Sahara. Pack a few more hydrating items for good measure: lip balm, hand and face creams, eye lubricants and even nasal spray. Now if you want to wake up refreshed by catching forty winks before landing, pop a couple of NyQuil capsules one hour after take-off. (After your doctor gives you the green light give those over-the-counter sleeping pills a pass, as they can make you dopey.)

And don’t forget to tuck away a nifty little eye mask, too. They’re so soothing, and I always get the best sleep when I use one. To keep the dreaded “puffy eyes” at bay, use Preparation H under your eyes a half an hour before landing. (A little dab’ll do ya.) Finally, change into something comfy like sweats as soon as the captain takes off the “Fasten Your Seat Belt” sign. Forty minutes before landing, wash up and change back into your good stuff – trust me, you'll feel so much better. (Do you have any travel tips to share? Send me your best advice, and I’ll send you a signature Have Fun Wine-ing with Grae eye mask!)

Our landing was right on schedule, but alas, our hotel rooms were not. Even worse, Murph's room wasn’t available until the following day, as the woman who had it prior became ill and couldn’t leave. The hotel did, however, put him up in one of their sister establishments.

The rooms at the Waldorf (obviously, our NY Waldorf didn’t trademark) were more like large linen closets, but since it was for just the one night, we braved it out.
The neighborhood was perfectly located for shopping, but the bistro we dined at that night was merely satisfactory... I know, I know, not the greatest choice of words, but fitting nonetheless. That's why I’m not bothering to share the name of the bistro with you. Unfortunately, it was NOT worth remembering. Besides, this was just a pit stop, as the next morning we were up, out and on our way to Beaune....

Au revoir, Paris!

PS: Stay tuned for The Golden Slopes!

Stevie's Dogs

How much do you love spontaneity? Especially when it involves NYC and wine?!

In a nanosecond, you can go from bored to excited.

Here it was, late Friday afternoon, with nothing planned except a date with Netflix. (Don't get me wrong - I love movies, and my routine has always been brush, bed and Blockbuster. Then Blockbuster closed, so I had to hop onto the Netflix bandwagon. The only issue I have with Netflix is that it offers too much of a good thing, including almost every TV series imaginable. For example, the show Grey’s Anatomy, whose title I find humorous for personal and obvious reasons. Problem with Grey's Anatomy is that instead of watching one episode, I watch three in a row - or even more - until my eyes begin to burn, it’s that darn curiosity wanting to know things like, how Meredith Grey will handle Mc Dreamy’s wife showing up? – I’m such a girl sometimes)


NY Vintners was having one of their Friday wine tastings, and Shane asked me to join him. (If you've never attended one, I highly recommend doing so, and not just because Shane is my WFF but because they happen to be really good! Seriously, check out Yelp if you’re looking for more endorsements.) Wine tastings are an economical way to try a bunch of wines, not to mention a great way to spend an evening. Just remember: All wine tasting are not alike. Some, if not most, can be quite dull and pompous (shocking, I know…)





So here I was, getting ready to leave for the Big Apple when I get an out-of-the-blue text message from my latest WFF, Amy (she's the one who introduced me to Tía Pol that wonderful, inexpensive tapas place on 9th Avenue), asking what I was doing this weekend. I quickly replied with an invitation to join me and Shane at NY Vintners, but first I had to pick up a bottle of Amarone in the Flatiron District that I wanted to try for my wine club (insert plug here). Being the good friend that she is, she offered to pick up the Amarone for me and meet me at NY Vintners. DATE ON!




The wines at NY Vintners that night were from Mount Eden, a winery in California. Chef Ryan prepared a complementary menu to go with each flight (although between you and me, I would have served the filet mignon with the cabs and the cheese course with the pinot instead the other way around). Still, it was daring of him to serve tongue. Kevin, the gentleman seated next to Shane, pointed out that as tasty a dish tongue is, it needs better PR. (Translation: a different name, the same way pancreas and stomach parts are known as “sweet breads.” Quite the spin, right?) Amy suggested La Langue, which is French for tongue. I just thought of a bunch of grammar school jokes while they were having this serious conversation about food titles.

Back to wine. The whites: Chardonnay Wolff Vineyard 2009 and Chardonnay Estate 2008 were the winners of the three flights and the only wines that I purchased. If these wines were guys and I was not in a relationship, I would have had a hard time picking which one I would make out with!



The Chard Wolff had that extra acidity that I enjoy, and if you're an oyster lover, search no further for a great hook up. The wolf, you, and that pearl loving creature is my kind of threesome!



The Chardonnay Estate was a bit heavier, like the guy with just the right amount of muscles (you know, the gymnast vs. the swimmer). It also had a more buttery note on the palate, so if you're into heavier whites that aren’t “oaky,” this is your baby. (For the record, I do not care for oaky wines, so if you're a big California oak-loving wine drinker, I'm not your girl.)



The pinots are not worth a mention. The cabs are, but not for the reasons you might think.



At the end of the dinner, I asked Shane to serve the hot dogs that he had been holding for me. That would be a whopping 20 pounds of hot dogs. And believe me, these aren’t just any hot dogs. These dogs are from that truck in Queens that has an exclusive with Sabrett’s (natural casing, extra garlic); the same hot dog truck that my late husband Steve took me to on one of our first dates; the same dogs that Steve smuggled into France to bring to the famous wine maker Chave, and that Robert Parker raved about; the same ones that I had Tru Restaurant in Chicago serve to all of the attendees at my first wine auction; the hot dogs I was going to serve in honor of Steve at my Viva la France wine event that Irene blew out. Those dogs.

So the lucky patrons at the NY Vintners tasting had the honor of eating what I now call “Stevie Dogs.” They were not only a hit with the clientele, but they also made the ho-hum cabernets that, before their arrival I merely tolerated, the way you do a distant relative who keeps talking about their son’s accomplishments ad nausea , into something wonderful. With the dogs by my side and the spirit of the “Wine HO” AKA Steve in the room, I actually welcomed the juice (in other words, the dogs made the wine come to life)! When a food makes a wine great, or vice versa, it’s a special moment – the kind of moment that, if you didn’t previously “get” the whole wine/food world, suddenly and absolutely changes that forever. If this sort of an experience doesn’t move you, give up, cause it ain’t ever gonna happen.

No Water, No Power, No Problem

The sky was dark and it was frighteningly quiet. Normally, waking up on Heather lane feels like a Disney movie: one would expect Snow White to be in the kitchen with the woodland creatures helping her tidy up the place. But Saturday was more Hitchcock than Disney: eerie and still, with the only sound heard being the periodic cry of a crow. That was it. You knew something was a-brewin'.

At 4am she hit. Waking up to winds howling and tree branches bending like blades of grass was, to be honest, more exciting than scary. But the excitement soon wore off as fatigue set in, so back to sleep we went.



Sunday, we were without electricity. Still, with our ice filled coolers, Rummikub set up for the evening's entertainment, wines safely being cooled via generator and a plethora of candles, we were content to be in the dark- well, at least for a night or two.

After breakfast we set out to see how our lovely town of Warren fared. Unfortunately, the answer was obvious: not so good.

Monday brought a new development to our humble abode: no water.
Okay, no power is one thing, but no water? The only sensible solution was to pack a bag and book a room for me and Zazi (my younger son) at the W New York Hotel. Times like these are when you get to pretend to be Eloise, everyone's favorite storybook city child!





(Side note: You know how when you're away from home for too long you miss your own bed? Well, that never happens at the W. I don't know if it's the mattresses or the whatever/ whenever service, or the combo of the two but all I can say is, WOW! Trust me, if Eloise had had a choice of where to live, she'd have skipped the Plaza and gone straight to the W in a New York minute!)


No sooner did my son and I arrive in the city that never sleeps than our social calendar became full.
On our first night, we headed to the US Open. Thank you, Ed!

On night number two, Zazi 's friend from the Island of Long came to town to hang with him. They bought tickets to go dancing at Pacha where our very own Jersey Boy, Pauly D, was the DJ. (You could not say this sentence with enough sarcasm if you tried, but try anyway.)


As for me, I headed downtown to a wine tasting hosted by Daily Food and Wine, met up with Valerie and her man, Rick, stayed a bit, and then headed to dinner at The National, a great bistro that's a stone's throw from the W NY Hotel.

I became a fixture at The National in record time: I had eaten lunch there on Monday, breakfast on Tuesday morning, and now I was headed back for dinner, and not because I had to but because I wanted to.

Valerie's friend, Valerie ( who from this point on will be referred to as Val 2) also joined in on this triple-play midtown dining experience. Now very familiar with the menu, I knew exactly what to order and which wines as well! Our waiter, Colin, was very helpful and almost as personable as Tracy, my lunch and breakfast server. (Tracy, by the way, designs T shirts so if you're in need of a dozen or so, give her a holler!)

(sous-vide)

Val 2 made a request for red wine, but I knew I wanted the Sauvignon Blanc with my bird.
This delectable chicken dish is prepared by a French method called sous- vide which means "under vacuum". But what exactly is sous-vide, you ask? Well, the chef cooks the bird in an airtight bag under water for up to three days at a low temperature. (Yes, three days!) The results? Unbelievably tender and juicy meat. I have to admit, after tasting this dish, it crossed my mind for a millisecond to cook my Thanksgiving turkey sous-vide.

Once again, Billy came to mind as I ordered a bottle of white and a bottle of red. Val 2 said it was not necessary to order two bottles, as we couldn't possibly finish them both. Oh, really? After the Beyond (great name for a wine, no?) and the 2004 Villadoria Nebbiolo were consumed, guess who was complaining that there was nothing to drink? I jest of course, but when the 3rd bottle arrived at the table, (a sexy 2001 Amarone) let's just say Val 2 didn't mind when the waiter filled her glass...

Pre-Irene

What to do when disaster is on its way? Head for the city! NYC, to be exact. Storm or no storm, nothing will stand in the way of comrades who are in the midst of a food battle.

Once I battened down the hatches and filled the bathtub with water, there was nothing left on my checklist to do except meet up with my WFF Shane and trump his L’artusi with Ai Fiori, a well- staffed, semi-serious Italian restaurant in midtown that came highly recommended by my friend Tim Kopec. Usually I scope out a place myself before taking Shane, but this time I used a lifeline, A.K.A. Tim. (He’s not only a top NYC sommelier and bona fide foodie, but a bit of a chef, too!)

Arriving early at Ai Fiori gave me a chance to leisurely peruse the wine list and menu. What to order first was an easy decision: with Caprese Salad on the menu and tomatoes at their peak, what’s left to think about?

There is nothing like fresh tomatoes and mozzarella. Seriously, each bite is an explosion of happiness in the mouth. How could anyone not like tomatoes? The only possible explanation is that they must be one of those green house-eating tomato people...but that’s like saying you don't like pasta when all you've ever tasted are Spaghetti-Os! (Which reminds me of when I was eight years old: my friend Suzy's mother wanted me to feel “at home," so she made me - her daughter's “goy-friend” - pasta smothered in Heinz 57.)

As far as the juice, I ordered a bottle of white and a bottle of red (Billy Joel would have been proud). After spotting another interesting white, I ordered that, too. As you can see, I was pulling out all the stops.

While the wine steward opened the first bottle of white, Shane texted me to say that he was stuck in the tunnel and would be at least another 30 minutes late.

When he finally arrived, stressed out from staring at bumper stickers on the BQE, our latest Battle of the Dinners officially began.

(Side note from The World According to Grae: I never wait for anyone when it comes to anything longer than 10 minutes. This rule has served me well over the years, so know that if we’re going out to eat and you're late, I’ll already have started eating by the time you get to the restaurant. Similarly, if we're going out clubbing and you’re held up, know that you'll find me on the dance floor - not at the bar - possibly with newly made friends. By doing this I never get pissy with anyone for being tardy!)

(The girl leaning on the post would never be me!)

First Course (or as I like to call it during these food wars, Round One) was a double order of Caprese, as I was confident Shane would share the same sentiment about the dish as I. Even better, both whites were not only lovely accompaniments to our appetizers but also paired well with the pasta dishes on the way.

The 2009 Friulano Collio and the 2010 Giovanni Almondo were real winners; however, the 2010 Giovanni Almondo Roero Arneis white was exceptionally refreshing and a very easy wine to drink. You know, just like your best bud – someone who is easy to hang out with, and won’t get pissy if you're an hour and a half late for dinner ;)!

The pastas arrived, and my score was triumphantly soaring: Trofie Nero, with ligurian crustacean ragoût, seppia, scallops and spiced mollica; and Risotto made with riso acquarello, lobster, bone marrow, saffron and shellfish. Deelish!

And then the entrees came. Talk about missing the mark! Sadly, a complete FAIL! The 89’, (may not be the best vintage but is drinking great), Tignanello I ordered couldn’t even lend these dishes a comeback move. There was only one thing to do.... SEND BACK the entrees and order more pasta, and fast! But even the risotto with bone marrow, as good as it was, earned insufficient points to make this battle a Grae Win...sigh.

( Ai fiori's entrees are proof that looks can be deceiving )

Until next time Shane, remember: It ain’t over till the fat lady sings (and at the rate my diet is going, that could very well be me…)