The ramblings and rumblings that follow are the work of Peter Kasperski, owner/wino of Spaghetti Western Productions, the parent company of downtown Scottsdale’s Restaurant Row, which includes Cowboy Ciao, Kazimierz world wine bar, Sea Saw, Digestif, and soon to include Mexican Standoff, Shell Shock, and Confection.  Links follow the blog, and how they got me to agree to this, I’ll never know.  It’s like George Jett, the grizzled veteran manning the stick at the Cowboy Ciao bar, says when you ask him if he makes a good mojito, “Not on purpose!” Perhaps more telling, the following text from Web Wizard Ty Largo: “God help me for further exposing the world to your words.”

The bulk of this was written from July 1 to July 18, 2008.



VIENNESE TORT

(IE really, another white wine? you’re killing me!)

I have an influential friend who only drinks wines of the white persuasion.  Being a red-wine-blooded American, this took some adjusting, but soon I realized there exists a world of wonderful whites to wet the whistle and whet the appetite. Who needs red wine, anyway?

A recent week-long wine tour of Austria took that question to task.  It’s not that there isn’t any Austrian red wine (there are some fine zweigelts and blaufränkisch, in particular), but the locals are so proud of their whites that it’s the only stuff they really pour!  Hey, don’t get me wrong, I like riesling and grüner veltliner as much as the next guy - as long as the next guy isn’t an Austrian winemaker or a San Francisco sommelier.  Certainly, these wines tend to be lower in alcohol and crisper in profile, rendering them a chameleon-like state when food-pairing is at the fore.  Johannes Hirsch likes to say he’s “making Fanta for grown-ups”, a statement that doesn’t necessarily play to the Scottsdale crowd but stacks up like schnitzel in Vienna.  And, hey, if green is the color of your frame of mind, organic & biodynamic are the rule, not the exception, when these winemakers explain their ‘Circle of Life’ philosophy regarding self-sustainability and maintaining the environmental balance (not to be confused with my ‘Circle the Wagons’ philosophy at last call).

Shloss Gobelsberg, Hiedler, Salomon, Nigl, Seitzer, Alzinger, Jamek -  we visited a number of excellent wineries and imbibed a slew of super wines, but, again, after 85 whites in a row, the black walnut schnapps at Nikolaihof was as welcome as a shady Scottsdale parking spot in mid July.  The highlight wines, and winemaker, of the trip was clearly [1] Willi Brundlmeyer.  The sheer spectacle of his remarkable wine lineup aside, the guy is a human quote machine in multiple languages!  The topic of the propagation of ancestral seeds became “sometimes, when you have sex, you get something very surprising [2].”  His ‘07 muskateller became “an elderflower slammer”

(although he may have borrowed the slammer term from Harry Root - more on that cat later).  The top Willi quote:  upon being questioned as to the alcohol content of a specific wine, his response was, verbatim, “I don’t fill the brain with this sort of things!”  My hero!  My Brundlhero!

I found myself confused at times regarding the different nuances between the ‘06 and ‘07 vintages.  I posed that to Erich Berger, who snapped back with “plus ten percent.”  Even in Austria, capitalism translates.  Berger offered some stunning value wines, even with the euro-to-dollar beatdown and 10% boost.  Berger’s zweigelts were exceptional, particularly the ’06s from Haid Vineyard (smoky raspberry) and Leithen Vineyard (integrated like a Hugo Boss suit).  His ‘07 gelber muskateller was pure ivory in a glass, but don’t stress yourself seeking it out, there is only 200 cases made annually.  “This wine is a game for me - but I like this game!” says Berger.  Other  ‘07 whites that shined for him were the powerhouse Gebling Vineyard grüner and Steingrabin riesling reserve, which inspired the following from the inscrutable Mister Root: “This wine is making me get very philosophical.”  Looonng pause.  “In my mind.”

This trip was full of wine world luminaries.  Michelle Parent and Kevin Pike from Skurnik Imports, Jason Morris of Quench, author David Rosengarten, wine magazine editor Peter Schleimer, sommelier Jesse Rodriguez of Addison in San Diego, and the aforementioned South Carolina wholesaler extraordinaire, Harry Root.  Rhymes with hoot. Harry has to be one of the funniest people ever to invade Austria, and his style of humor is take no prisoners, just slay everybody.  His comic timing was so superb, he made Johnny Carson look like Lewis Black.  Or Shirley Temple Black.  The running joke was Harry’s ongoing crusade to convince each winemaker we visited to break out the oldest wine in their cellar for us to try.

“So, I have a question.  Do you think grüners can age?  What’s the oldest one you’ve ever tasted?  What’s the oldest you have in the cellar?  Really, because that’s my birth year!”

Harry said that once when, were it true, it would’ve meant he was only 11 years old.  I think he did it on the day he declared as ‘No Spit Sunday’.  We were about 50 wines in before he realized it was actually Monday.   On one of the times he succeeded in getting the cellar raided, the winemaker asked Harry to guess the vintage, and he said 1983.  It was actually an ‘82, and the winemaker asked if it was the flavor profile, or the aromatics, that made him think ‘83, and Harry’s deadpan response was “well, we were talking earlier about the movie Grease and the band The Cars, and I think those were both 1983.”  It was then I invited Harry to be one of the sommeliers for the EATs³ [3] ‘Battle of the Sexes’ seminar featuring male and female somms tasting blind against each other.  Which leads me to….

[1] you know who you are

[2] ain’t that the truth

[3] s³ stands for Sizzle Sip Swizzle; just don’t ask Chef James ‘Pleasure’ Porter from Tapino, he can’t remember that part [4]

[4] and whatever you do, never, ever get The Plez wet

THE MAIN EVENT

(save the dates October 23 - October 25)

I’ve been accused of many things.  I’ve been accused of letting alcohol control too big a part of my life, and after the recent trifecta of A) receiving a personalized flask of mescal from winemaker (& now mescalmaker)/sommelier Richard Betts at The Little Nell during Aspen Classic (I mean, seriously, who gets that without earning it?); B) telling a TV producer I have a cooking show concept for Savor Scottsdale, and his rejoinder was “no, I’ve got a great idea for a 13 week series.  It’s all about you!  It’s called WINO”; C) winemaker/ restaurateur Cris Cherry of Villa Creek called me this morning and, shocked that I picked up the phone, says “wow, I didn’t think a nocturnal creature such as yourself ever witnessed daylight this early” and it was 9am; all of which may add some credence to that particular accusation.  I’ve been accused of being a workaholic as well, to which I like to think of myself as a restaurant junkie, there’s a difference, but then again, we are not only opening up a quartet of one-of-a-kind restaurants (Digestif, Mexican Standoff, Shell Shock, Confection) within a single calendar year, we’re doing so at the same time I’m serving on the planning committee of a distinctively engaging, incredibly diverse inaugural culinary event, Savor Scottsdale presents EATs³, once again lending the accusation significant credibility. In my defense, one thing I’ve never been accused of is not knowing how to throw a party, and EATs³ is shaping up to be one helluva hullabaloo.

40+ independent restaurants, 150+ wineries, guest bartenders from cocktail culture big cities, guest chefs of national and international renown (including Jacques Pepin!), rocking parties, wine luncheons, killer cooking demos, Iron Bar Chef competition, wild wine seminars featuring characters too extreme for the USA network (including Harry Root in his Scottsdale debut - I just had to share this guy with you all; other celebs scheduled to participate in EATs³ include Modern Mixologist Tony Abou-Ganim, Donn Reisen of Ridge, TV chefs Ming Tsai and Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard, local heroes Chris Bianco & Kevin Binkley, Savor members & James Beard winners Robert McGrath & Nobu Fukuda, winemakers Adam LaZarre, Susie Selby, Mat Garretson, Chrystal Clifton, Kent Callaghan - updates will be posted on the web site weekly), Food & Wine Magazine as an official sponsor, a uniquely Savor Scottsdale silent auction, a BBQ & Bubbles finale under the Arizona stars, all to support charities such as Waste Not and Grow for Good.  Under the watchful eyes of Savor Scottsdale Executive Director Kerri Conlon, EATs³ Event Director Robyn Lee, EATs³ Event Producer Kerry Dunne and EATs³ Marketing Director Ty Largo [5], our band of merry independent restaurants is really jelling and readying for a barnburner (or, since much of the event is at SouthBridge, a bridgebuilding).  Working closely with Don Carson (Don & Charlie’s), James Porter (Tapino) and Aaron May (Sol y Sombra, Over Easy) while planning this soirée has been a total blast (although the fact that one of the auction items proposed is attending a bar crawl with the four of us harkens back to my original comments - leopard, meet spots).

Check out the web sites www.savorscottsdale.com & www.eats3.com for ongoing updates, ticket purchases, or just to see all the bright colors.  This is an event you won’t want to miss - unless you want to be accused [6] of being an old dog that can’t go to new tricked-out events that Sizzle, Sip, Swizzle!

[5] the original version (ok, one of the original 20 versions) of this blog neglected to mention the exemplary contributions of marketing master and web wizard Ty Largo, so he texted me crying like a little girl and threatened not to post my blog unless he got some play, and now he’ll probably edit the bejesus out of this thing just to get even, the big baby…so I’m kidding, sort of: Ty’s been terrific, but I did warn him to be careful what he asks for (and not to go camp in the great outdoors, too, but he just doesn’t listen)

[6] for the record, I’ve also been accused of having a dark side that falls between Johnny Cash’s wardrobe and Frank Miller’s Batman, and for the longest time, I used to think that, if someone complimented a rather garish tie, and said tie-wearer responded with “yes, this tie screams of spring and summer”, my compulsion to add “not to mention shower curtain and trailer park slipcover” was simply a witty bon mot that needed saying; imagine my surprise when, while hanging out with the King of Cool himself, Dennis Rowland, we were introduced to a young lady who had never seen his Thursday night gig at Kazimierz, and her reasoning was that she turned into a pumpkin by 9pm, to which Dennis responded “You know what we do when we get pumpkins, don’t you?”  Looonng pause (I gotta get better at that).  “We make Pie.”  Even the way the guy says pie is cool.  Then he turns to me and says “You were gonna say carve ‘em up, weren’t you”, and, yeah, I was going there, so maybe that’s another accusation with some juice.

VIENNESE RETORT

“You know, there is a bar in Vienna that serves 41 different kinds of Absinthe.”

That’s what Michelle Parent said to me to get me to go to Austria in the first place (and, yes, it’s painfully obvious I’m just hanging myself here; like The Plez says “quit picking on the guy who makes sauce”, or in my case is just into his sauce).  That bar was called Barfly, and they had the most complete back bar I’ve ever seen - 250 different rums from 32 countries, 500 scotches, and a mere 28 brands of Absinthe.  I drank about a third of the way through the Absinthe stock before morphing into my best impression of Mickey Rourke in Barfly, carrying on a relatively normal conversation while my eyes appeared glued shut.  We’d already been day drinking at a Champagne bar, followed by Negronis at 100 Loos (I had to teach them how to make a Negroni, surprisingly - every bar there seemed to have great back stock and pretty sharp guys at the stick, so the impromptu mixology lesson I imparted led to the bartender ‘sponsoring me in my next adult beverage’ and, heaven knows, it’s always good to have a sponsor).  When you factor in the jet lag, I feel completely substantiated.  Hey, it’s not like I turned into Carrot Top or something, it’s Mickey Rourke!  Did you even see Sin City?

Days later, when we got back to Vienna from Krems around midnight (following an interminably long bus ride where the cool kids all hit the back of the bus and laughed incessantly while passing bottles of, you guessed it, white wine), Harry & I were in the lobby five minutes later asking for directions to Barfly.  Turns out it was closed, but there was a sister joint close by called Nightfly (what, these guys never heard of Spiderman?).  Cocktail Karma smiled on us that evening, the Nightfly is one of the single most superlative bar experiences I’ve had.  While the back bar was thin by Barfly standards, it still possessed numerous selections of interesting, unique liquors and liqueurs, a cool little piano bar in the corner, varied seating areas of differing wattage, and, best of all, Andy.  This man is the consummate bartender/mixologist/politician all wrapped in one.  He introduced me to numerous delectable cocktails in the two nights we visited him, a handful of new products, kept me from getting shot with a wag of his finger (at the other guy, give me some credit; I really wasn’t trying to get shot, but Harry wasn’t there yet so I represented the next most promising target), always looked us in the eye and kept up the storytelling and drinkmaking at equally brisk pacing.  In homage to Andy, there’s a new drink at Cowboy Ciao called The Nightfly, an adaptation of one of his inventions.  Imagine morphing a Sazerac with a Daquiri, sort of, not exactly.  Did I mention the Cuban rum?  We don’t have it, but Andy sure did. The 15 year old Havana Club was worth the trip to Austria alone.  The hell with the cigars, we should drop the embargo for the rum.

LOCAL FIRST AND FOREMOST

Kimber Lanning is a dynamo!  The owner of Modified Arts and Stinkweeds CD Store in downtown Phoenix, as well as the founder of Local First, a non-profit organization that promotes supporting local independent businesses, convinced the Governor to declare Independents Week the first week of July.  Not only that, she got me to stop shopping at Best Buy.  I used to be on the Local First board, but after I missed 14 out of 15 meetings (and the one I made was a fluke), they replaced me with our own marketing maven Marianne Markogianis [7], which is sure to add some creativity and spice to those meetings.  I still get my Kimber fix because she supplies the CDs for the listening station at Digestif (where the CD sales all go to benefit Local First because, while I don’t put my money where my mouth is, that’s just unsanitary, I do believe in supporting a good cause, and what better cause than local independent business?) and, in the process, also fills my own obscure music orders.  Here’s how that went:

PK “Did you hear the new Ekova CD?”

KL “Of course.  Why do you even ask?”

(if you want an exercise in futility, try stumping Kimber on a musical artist, or song, or lyric - like justifying my wine expenditures to the CFC [8], it can’t be done)

KL “So where did you pick it up?”

PK “Best Buy, I think.”

KL “You are so busted.  Remember that thing called Local First?  You know, that board you’re on where you conveniently skip every meeting?”

(ok, I did make the one, but it wasn’t at a bar and consequently didn’t hold my interest long - like a cat with a shiny object, I am, when you flash a neon sign that says SALOON [9])

PK “Yes, but the meetings, as well as your shop, are in Phoenix, and you know my car doesn’t go there.”

KL “What are you, twelve?  Fine, I’ll just deliver them, because, unlike you, my vehicle operates in multiple cities.”

So she does.  I’ve tried to stump her there, too, but no dice.  She even got Sugarcane Collins to mail me an out-of-print CD to me from Australia, complete with hand-written liner notes.  Since it’s now the Fourth of July, I’m feeling excessively patriotic, and as America is all about giving, allow me to share with you my favorites of this latest batch, along with appropriate drink recommendations (hey, any loser can pair wine with food).

JAMES HUNTER - THE HARD WAY

The second outing from this blues/folk/’50s rockabilly Brit, and it’s every bit as tasty as the first go-round.  You may be thinking London Dry Gin here, but, given his clear affinity for American roots music, he sounds about as British as I do [10], so I’m leaning towards something equally delish and indigenous to the USA (told you, patriotic down to my red white and blue boxers [11]), say a lush zinfandel from Turley, like the Ueberroth Vineyard from Paso Robles (how All-American is that, named after a past Baseball Commissioner - hey, cue up the National Anthem, already!)

PLANTS AND ANIMALS - PARC AVENUE

Folk-prog-esque band from Canada that sounds alternately  Queen-ish operatic and Blind Faith-y layered, displaying both a sense of grandeur and the warm comfort of an old pair of jeans.  Drink something racy yet beautiful with this, something you’d normally bypass, like a pinot auxerrois from Alsace or müller-thurgau from northern Italy.

RAMBLIN’ JACK ELLIOTT - I STAND ALONE

This old school folk artist learned from Woody Guthrie and mentored Bob Dylan, and it’s rumored that Mick Jagger bought his first guitar after hearing Elliott playing at a London train station; this CD is full of traditional folk, hillbilly, and honky tonk, with guest artists including Flea, David Hidalgo and Lucinda Williams.  Bourbon, neat.  Leave the bottle.

RYAN SHAW - THIS IS RYAN SHAW

My guess, this kid is the next great soul singer.  He can sound like Wilson Pickett, Stevie Wonder, Prince or Sam Cooke, transcending decades of R&B in the process.  If your girl won’t dance with you to this stuff, brother, you at the wrong club.  Get yourself a bottle or three of Grateful Palate shiraz with this, maybe the Boarding Pass or First Class, as this is the sort of music Dan Philips always turns me on to, and cuz this kid is flying, baby.

ARCHIE BRONSON OUTFIT - DERDANG DERDANG

Loud, angry, rough, totally lo-fi, raw and underproduced, rock out!  The first song, Cherry Lips, is destined to be a classic.  This is exactly the kind of band I always pictured Charles Smith managing, so lets honor that with some high-scoring K Vintners artistry in a glass, perhaps the grenache blend called The Boy, or tempranillo-heavy El Hefe.  Your fat cherry lips.

TORD GUSTAVSEN TRIO - THE GROUND

Time and place, karma memories, heartache and joy.  After spending my last morning in Vienna buying gifts, I went to the Champagne bar for a second time and this was playing.  Soaring, actually.  Straight-ahead jazz from a Norwegian trio that was so lyrical, so textured, so incandescently beautiful, I was inspired to write in my moleskin for the better part of the afternoon about hopes and dreams, the past and the future, where to go, what to do, who to love.  Truth is, it was my favorite part of the trip.  While I could easily rationalize you going to your cellar and dusting off your oldest, finest Grand Cru Burgundy, for me, it would have to be Champagne.  Blanc de Blancs Grower Champagne.  This one is deep, this moment.

THE WOOD BROTHERS - LOADED

Another stunning sophomore effort.  I played the crap out of their first CD and gave copies to virtually everyone I know who has music in their soul [12].  This may be even better, so, Kimber, load me up.  Chris Wood is the fabulous bass player for the best new-jazz group alive, MMW (Medeski Martin and Wood, and both John Medeski and Billy Martin do guest shots on this one), so it’s all the more enthralling that he and his brother Oliver could create a pair of discs that are Country/Alt Folk/Blues works of absolute genius.  After repeated spins, it’s disturbingly evident that one or both of the boys suffered a bad, painful breakup.  It’s a well documented fact that many rock stars do their best work while chasing the dragon.  Well, maybe some guys just flat out write better when they’re crushed [13].

Oh, yeah, that.  White wine, what else.

[7] just rolls off the tongue, don’t it?

[8] Chief Financial Chick, and she’s none too happy with my recent foray into obtaining as many Absinthes and digestifs as possible, either; she doesn’t mind that I think outside the box, she just wants me to remember there is a box

[9] and the lynching continues

[10] although I do love saying “cherrio, spot o’ tea, then, Guvner?”

[11] yeah, I don’t really wear those, I just kinda got wrapped up in the moment and wanted to paint you a picture with words, I’m all better now

[12] you still know who you are

[13] and, I repeat, ain’t it the truth

BLOGGLES THE MIND

How they talked me into doing a blog is beyond me.  What the hell is a blog, anyway?  Is it like a blurb in the captains log?  To quote Liz Lemon, blurg!

Everything above this was written specifically for an e-mail and snail mail newsletter, and I let Stacy Bertinelli read it first.  Stacy is Kimber’s right hand, left hand, and various other body parts all-everything assistant, and I caught her on a particularly snarly day (”my friend asked if I needed anything, and I asked for two hot pokers to stick in my eyes, but then she said she was headed to Costco so I had to tell her no, I could only use hot pokers purchased from a local independent business”).  I made the mistake of sitting in the room while Stacy read this and sank deeper and deeper into the floor as she proceeded to digest-if [14] the whole thing without a single laugh.  Not even a snicker.  When I confronted her about it, she replied “I reveled in the beauty of your really nice turns of phrase”.  I got a turn of phrase for you, sweetheart.  Then Marianne joined us and got on the whole blog kick, swearing that it’s the only way to go, that it would really rock, and before you know it, I was caught between rock and a hard case [15].  So here it is, a blog of dyspeptic proportions.  Who knows, the next blog may be timely and light-hearted.

I’ve been accused of excessive sarcasm, too.

[14] blog or not, doubt you’ll ever sea saw the day I ignore gratuitous product placement, and if you don’t like it, cowboy ciao up, already!

[15] revel in that beauty

EPI-BLOG-UE

As our ongoing dance with technology is like waltzing with a hippo (albeit a hippo with a lovely personality), the posting of this blog continues to b-l-og down, leaving me time to add more, which is thrilling the marketing team responsible for actually making this happen to no end.  For all I know, they’re camping again (since it went so well last time).  You may finally see it by the Chicago Olympics [16].  Don’t worry, it’ll make just about as much sense then, I approach my craft as timeless (IE deadline, what deadline?).

So I’m having dinner last week with music impresario Danny Zelisko [18], trading tales of Muddy Waters, Tom Petty, Danica Patrick [19], and on and on.  We somehow got to talking about this stream-of-unconciousness ode to my psyche, and I mentioned that it was a very cathartic experience for me, which Danny then questioned “what, like putting in a catheter?”

Come to think of it, it was more like taking one out.

[16] javelin toss in Comiskey Park, I am so there [17]

[17] once a South Sider, always a South Sider, so you silly beverage  reps who offer to take me to the D-Backs game because the Cubs are in town, strike one, and I’m not a Bud Man, either, strike two  

[18] Danny asked me to do a guest spot on his Sunday night radio show on KDKB; apparently, I have a face for radio

[19] we think there’s a chance we can convince Danica to be a judge at the Iron Bar Chef competition for EATs³, Tom Petty is a long shot, and if Muddy Waters shows up, I’ll be needing more therapy [20]

[20] or, in my case, the Russian translation, Nikolashkas