(Image via: locallemons.com)
I was going to write about my April trip to New Orleans (aka NOLA) for the Independent Champagne and Sparkling Wine Invitational (ICSWI 2010) event and the more ambitious return trip home, with a stopover in Aÿ for the Terre et Vins de Champagne tasting (a selection of small, bio Champagne producers showing their base – i.e. still – wines and the finished Champagnes). I was going to write a serious piece on some winemakers, the wines complete with tasting notes and perhaps even a few quotes from notable US sommeliers. Instead, my desire to quench my cravings for American food combined with my desire to hang out with old sommelier friends (oh, and something by the name of Eyjafjallajökull – the Icelandic volcano that erupted and whose ash shutdown airspace for days) overrode any seriousness and it ended up one big joyous celebration. Just as well. I am lousy at writing serious pieces that include tasting notes. I don’t read tasting notes, so why would I subject you to it? And let’s face it, I was in New Orleans, my first visit to the US in three years. I had a hidden agenda and my tummy was doing the driving. And…it was crawfish season.
First, a word on the actual tasting. New Orleans isn’t necessarily the first place that comes to mind when you think about Champagne, nevermind a gathering of independent growers. So it was an ambitious undertaking that met with moderate success. I met people that came in from Texas, Chicago (thanks for recognizing me!), Atlanta… people starved for some good bubble. There were some amazing wines poured by the charming Catherine Milan of Champagne Jean Milan, a fantastic selection of Special Club Champagnes (which I actually did taste and make comparative notes), and one of my favourites by Jacques Laissaigne, among others. Good wines, some tasty snacks and even some acrobatics to entertain. A good time was had by all.
Second, a (very brief) word on the tasting that I missed in Champagne: it was great and I am sad to have missed it. Rarely does one get the opportunity to taste the still base wines of Champagne before they go under the secondary fermentation. I attended their first tasting last year – a 24 hour trip (return) from Spain – and it was fantastic and totally worth the lack of sleep.
I am generally averse to food blogs and won’t give any reviews or lists of restaurants. I will say that I had killer boiled crawfish, a fat softshell crab po’boy AND (later) a softshell crab benny that made me want to weep with joy, the juiciest, fattest, tastiest burger (last burger eaten…2006?) with the greatest side: baked potato, as well as okra, oysters, hush puppies and corn fritters and (perhaps) a few too many Hurricanes. And most of this I enjoyed in the company of sommelier friends from New York and a wine export manager from a Cava bodega.
On that note, I will interrupt and say, forget what they say about Vegas. What happens in New Orleans STAYS in New Orleans. Some photos do exist and I even posted those on FB, but all the juicy bits will just stay in my cerebral cortex.
I also shopped at Whole Foods (I love that place, yes, yes I do), went blonde (my Chicago colourist moved to NOLA!), practiced some amazing yoga and discovered the joys of the Garden District, Magazine Street (where buying jeans was actually a fun experience) and riding the streetcar. Man, I love, love, LOVE New Orleans. There is something about the South and people calling you “Sugar” and meaning it from the heart. And they sure have a joy for life, even in the worst of circumstances, that I have seen in only one other place (Cuba). Music is always heard in the French Quarter, there is at least one parade a day (who needs a reason?), and they love their food. And then there is Bourbon Street.
At night, the French Quarter is a different place than by day. By day, you can walk around the shops, buy some t-shirts or beads or crazy antiques, see some street performers… At night, you can actually do all that, but with a slight seedy undertone. The bars are open, the music spills into the street, clothes come on and off… Some of my friends weren’t really rolling with it so well. They didn’t understand the spirit of New Orleans. Others fully grasped the philosophy.
The thing about New Orleans, for me, is that I can’t stay there too long. Too much excess. By the time Sunday arrived, I was looking for a new kidney. I was also trying to figure out what to do as I was just informed that my flight back to Europe was cancelled. Actually, no. My flight, which was supposed to stop in Houston before continuing on to Paris, was going to go as far as Houston. The following week, I would get to Paris via Newark. I remembered back a couple of days when, at the tasting, I was talking with Peter Liem who was my partner in the ambitious dream to get to Aÿ for the tasting.
Me: What if we get stuck here?
P: Or, worse. What if we get stuck in Houston?
Me: Right. What would we eat in Houston?!
P: What would we drink in Houston?
Only in New Orleans…
Unfortunately, I was processing this information and re-living this memory in a less than stable state (one too many hurricanes) and all I could smell was booze and the computer screen was hazy. I actually had to call a wine-writer friend that was also in town for the tasting: “Alice, what do I do?” Normally able to make decisions on my own, I was just too far gone. Thankfully, she is the mother to us all, and though I have no recollection of what she told me whatever it was jolted me to reality. I was madly exchanging messages with Peter, who told me he was going to try to get to Newark. I decided to do the same. After all, I had friends in NYC. Friends I didn’t think I’d get to see this year. Somehow, I packed my luggage, checked out (I wish I could tell that story, but at the risk of tarnishing my already sketchy reputation, I’ll give it a miss) of the hotel and made my way to the airport.
Kudos go to the team at Continental Airlines. I think my wait was about three minutes. The people looked exhausted but they were friendly and efficient. In less time than it took me to get to the airport, my next-day flight to Newark was booked. I headed back to the hotel where I was told that they didn’t actually check me out of the system…they knew that I’d be back (bless them) and told, “Honey, get some sleep.”
One more day in NOLA began with detoxifying walk in the sun through the Quarter to get a Frozen Café au Lait from Café du Monde. After that, I was a new person. Solo, I wandered the Garden District. For dinner, I met with Kat (the lady that makes my hair look so good) and had that amazing burger. Then I met up with the sommeliers and one more night in NOLA ended with the song Jesse’s Girl. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?
New York City -
I adore New York City in small doses. I don’t think I could ever live there. The great expanse of the city and yet all those big buildings closing in on me, combined with the endless, frenetic, desperate energy of the movers and shakers is just way too much for me. Within hours of landing, I was at a sake tasting with an importer friend (actually, it was Henry, the guy who took me to visit sake breweries in Japan – see last article). Within less than 24 hours, I had already gone to yoga class, eaten an AMAZING lunch at Eleven Madison Park and gotten a pre-paid mobile phone. I became one of those people I always make fun of: running through the streets with earpiece, talking away, not paying attention to the world around me.
I ate amazing sushi (thank you Midori-san) – the first great sushi since my trip to Japan, matzo ball soup at midnight after a late yoga class, KILLER artichoke and Spinach pizza on the way home in the rain, eggs and a short stack (I have been talking about short stacks for longer than I had been talking about burgers) and so much more. I attended one Joe Dressner’s legendary wine tastings and staged at Eleven Madison Park – where the team is as sharp as they come – and Rouge Tomate. It was, as a friend later described it, “very Type A.”
Oh yes….eggs, sausage and buttermilk pancakes (with lemonade iced tea). Oh, how I love to eat!
Where New Orleans was about connecting with old sommelier friends and hanging out, New York was about connecting with old friends. I got a chance to meet my friends’ son for the first time after watching him grow via photos sent. I met up with Jake, with who I have practiced yoga in Chicago and Paris. There were drinks and killer tempura –style ramps with dear Alice (who gave me the advice in New Orleans that I now cannot remember ), and Pascaline, my French sister, and others. I did not get to see everyone that I had wanted to see, of course. Given the short notice, I am pretty proud of what I was able to swing on the fly.
^ Phone turned off and a stroll through High Line Park in Manhattan.
I even staged at two restaurants. At Eleven Madison Park, I worked one lunch service – not even enough to get a proper glimpse into their world. After eating there and observing their service, I felt really “homesick” (for lack of a better word) for working in a place like that: deep, sexy wine list, guests that know about wine and, most importantly, a totally knowledgeable, enthusiastic team working the floor. I knew three of the guests that were dining that service and it felt pretty good to work the room in NYC. At Rouge Tomate, where my French sister is the Wine Director (and she let me stay at her crowded apartment, along with her mother and cousin who were also stranded thanks to the volcano) it was a relaxed but full service and I had a lot of fun.
By Sunday, I was so ready to go home to my sunny apartment in Sweden. The flight from Newark to Paris was horrific and cold, but the movies were good. I have virtually nothing else to say about the Champagne tasting in New Orleans, nor much else to say about wine or restaurants. What I do have are many memories and many thanks to all those with whom I was so lucky to spend time in both New Orleans and New York. I had absolutely no idea this trip would have ended up to be so full of shared meals and laughs. I also apologize to all of those that I couldn’t see. And finally, many thanks to the guys at Trio who let me have that first week off and, knowing that the volcano wasn’t my fault, for understanding my absence for the second week. So, you see, being grounded by the volcanic eruption was one of the best things to have happened to me this year.
