(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.

~ Linda Violago

Gyoza, Nihonshu & Strawberries

As I was preparing to welcome spring 2010, it dawned on me that this is the third country in as many years that I have seen the transition from winter to spring. Last year, though, was particularly special as I was travelling through Japan. As always when I write, I have many starts and stops. This article marks the first time that I have ever written anything about the trip, apart from status updates on Facebook. And, aside from rushed preparations for a presentation on sake last year, it was the first time I went through the two books of notes and thousands of photos. What an amazing trip. How fortunate was I to have been able to take a month off and do so many amazing things, meet so many amazing people and eat so much amazing food. And just how do I organize four weeks, two books and about four thousand photos into something easy to read and yet also transmit even a fraction of what I took with me? Hopefully I’ve figured it out…

The trip became possible when I was invited by a friend/New York sake importer. He takes his sales team and various representatives from other states to visit his brewers every year and had long ago invited me. This time, I was finally able to go. His trip was for one week but I decided that if I was going to go all that way, I had better make the most of it and take a full month off!

I did little to prepare for my trip apart from the requisite travel plans: plane tickets, accommodation bookings, Japan Rail pass (indispensable and fantastic deal). I did buy a travel book, but didn’t have the time to read it. I also took Japanese lessons. I certainly wasn’t fluent by the time I got there, but I could order food, tell people what I did for a living, and ask directions and train information. Given that very few people speak other languages there (as a person that speaks three languages, it was very frustrating), these lessons sure made things move a lot smoother. I hate not being able to communicate – so much gets missed.

TOKYO
As timing would have it, the chefs from the restaurant where I worked at the time (Mugaritz) were also going to Japan for the Tokyo Taste Culinary Congress. This was an event organized by Hattori-san (Yukio Hattori of Hattori Nutritional College – note: Hattori-san is widely credited with raising the standard of culinary education in Japan and for bringing international cuisine to the country. Mention his name to just about anyone in the world of food and wine and they bow in reverence. He also was the first commentator of the Japanese Iron Chef), a great friend of our restaurant. I arrived on the second day of the event and after 30 minutes of navigating my way out of Tokyo Station (jetlag had finally set in) and to my hotel, I made it to the show to see various presentations and meet up with the team.

Japanese hospitality and generosity is unparalleled. For the next three days, I accompanied the team (and other Tokyo Taste guests) to dinners and tours. Two fantastic and memorable meals were among those outings: In Tokyo, at Mibu (an eight-seat private club run by Ishida-san and his wife, dining by invitation only) and Kicho in Kyoto. Both are masters in kaiseki, or Japanese-style tasting menu. Both experiences had stories to tell through the food. There is not a thing that I can say, nor photo that I can show that can possibly give you even a hint of how emotive these meals were.

^ menu from Mibu

KYOTO
We all moved to Kyoto on my third day. I stayed in my humble room (futon on the floor with traditional buckwheat husk pillow and blanket) at the Shunkoin Zen Buddhist Temple, located in the Myoshinji Temple grounds. This was a suggestion made to me by a winemaker friend. It is simple and so perfectly lovely. I wouldn’t have wanted to stay anywhere else. By contrast, the Tokyo Taste gang stayed at Tawaraya Ryokan , one of the oldest – and most luxurious – ryokan (Japanese guesthouse) in Kyoto. Admittedly, I was a little envious, but I was still happy to be among the monks. We went to Kicho the first day and then finished with a sencha ceremony (as opposed to the traditional Chanoyu ceremony that surrounds green tea, this ceremony, while still meant to be contemplative, is more relaxed and a sense of humour is welcomed).

A side note on strawberries: The time of year was February and strawberries were “in season.” They weren’t in season as in – they were being grown (naturally) and went to market. They were in season in the sense of everyone eats strawberries in February. I couldn’t get an answer as to why. Perhaps it was something to do with Valentine’s Day? At Kicho, we were all served two strawberries, grown (in greenhouses) in different areas of Japan. They both tasted totally different from one another and were probably the best strawberries that I had ever tasted (that is, until I thought about where they came from and got creeped out about it).

The next day, we strolled through Nishiki market. I think we were there for three hours, at least! In the group were chefs from Mugaritz, the Fat Duck and alinea and their teams and we were accompanied by Setsuko-san (basically Hattori’s right-hand woman) and Akiko – our interpreter (and my Japanese teacher). Kyle from the FD also spoke fluent Japanese, having lived and worked in Japan for a number of years. It was probably the single, most fantastic market walk I have ever experienced: Japan market = amazing food with some of the world’s most talented chefs: priceless. Lunch was quick, but definitely not light:

^ Killer lunch at Nishiki market

Then there was Yoram’s sake bar, where I went with RR. She is a journalist with el Pais who was also on the Tokyo Taste junket, but while the gang split up, she stayed one more night before returning to Spain. Yoram is an Israeli expat who opened this small sake bar. By day, it is a soba noodle joint (different owner), by night, sake bar. We tasted 14 amazing sakes old and young, pasteurized and not. It was a great prep “class” for my upcoming sake travels.

So after a few days of being coddled and offered translations at every moment, I was left on my own for a few weeks until I met up with Henry and his sake gang. The rest of my time in Kyoto was just spent doing what I do best: wandering. I visited at least three other temples, meditated a lot (I was in a Zen temple, after all), ate lots of ice cream and lots of mochi and, of course, ate a lot of raw fish. [Note: Up until I had parted ways with the Mugaritz gang, we had been eating plenty of “different” items including fugu and fugu sperm. I enjoyed it all, but I’ll just leave it at that.] At one point, walking from Ryoanji Temple, I wondered if I could ever again find this kind of joy that I felt – of discovery, of self-reflection, of excitement, of wonder. I am happy with my life, but I still remember that moment of pure, pure joy.

It was the season of cherry blossoms and while I am not much into flowers (at least, not to the extent of taking photos of them), never in my life have I ever taken so many shots of flowers – close-up, far away, groups, trees I look at them now and I almost want to delete them. Except that looking at all those photos reminds me of being surrounded by pink and white, breathing in the crisp, fresh air, the hushed sounds of people walking around and whispering to each other and the amazing aroma of the blossoms. At, Kitano Tenmangu temple, there were cherry blossoms and the more fragrant plum blossoms.I should mention that I did enjoy a meditation class with the Vice Abbott, Takafumi Kawakami.  He went to university in the US, so his English explanations were perfect.  We were a small group of travelers that, by chance, met up in the centre of Kyoto later that night.  We went to dinner at a restaurant suggested to us by Taka-san.  One of the travelers gave me the number of the woman that became my shiatsu therapist back in San Sebastian.  Yes, the world is small and wonderful and it’s great to get out and about from time to time!

OSAKA
Whirlwind stop.  I came here because another winemaker friend suggested that I connect with his friends Yukiko and Yusuke at their wine bar, Aso Vin Bar.  Again, I was shown that Japanese hospitality has no end.  They hooked me up with a sweet hotel room (sweeping views of Osaka at the price of just a little more than the Kyoto temple) and never let me rest the whole 48 hours that I was there.  I ate twice at their restaurant.  And the food is the MOST important thing there.  Yukiko is the chef and she offers up traditional food and Yusuke, her husband, chooses the wines and makes the great iced tea.  The place is small – maybe 20 seats, tops.  Here is a sample of what I ate: (she called it her version of “ratatouille.”  It had lotus root, onion, tomato, eggplant and shichimi, or togorashi.)

~ Linda Violago

(Image by: Annaïck Le Mignon)

Editor’s Note: It is with great pleasure that I introduce Linda Violago, a on and off again Vancouverite and international traveling sommelier, whose whims have taken her around the globe to work in some of the world’s top restaurants, including stints at Charlie Trotter’s in Chicago and Mugaritz in Spain.  For the benefit of Urban Diner readers, Linda will be sending us regular transmissions of her travels abroad. Enjoy!

~ PK

I have been travelling for a month with consulting gigs in London and the Maldives and some holiday time in Paris and Malmö and I find myself surrounded by boxes madly trying to pack and get things ready for the movers.^ One of the groups for my training session with Six Senses Soneva Fushi in the Maldives.

So far I’ve grazed through the first month of 2010 and already I feel fantastic.  It’s like a whole new life already!  London with the hustle and bustle and finally back to tasting lots of wine again – I am consulting on the wine list for a restaurant opening in Spring.  In the Maldives I did some training sessions and wine events with guests at two luxurious resorts.  And in Malmö, Sweden, I’ll be starting a new full-time gig.  I don’t think that I have had a more productive January!I spent about 31 months in Spain.  People laugh that I count in months, but given that I have worked that entire time with one employer to me it’s a relevant way of looking at how I have spent my time.  Sure, I have worked other places for longer, but in consecutive months.  Never.  In my life.  Never.  That says something about Mugaritz – the restaurant where I worked for that entire time.  It says many things.  What I will say about it was that it was a tremendous experience and I walk away STILL loving to work service.  And there’s nothing like picking yourself up and dropping into another place (and throwing in the element of another language just spices things up more) and adjusting and learning to live and work in that environment to really test one’s mettle.^ My personal Paris pastry binge.

It’s not new to me. Moving.  There are some that criticize it (which is not the same as saying that there are some who do not understand my way of being) but frankly, I am incapable of thinking otherwise.  I stayed another 12 months thinking it was “the right thing to do” as moving was always easy, it was the staying part that was always hard for me.  What I found is that I really DO need to listen to the gut and go when I need to go, because staying for the sake of staying really isn’t good for anyone.

In Chicago there was an employer that understood me so well, in spite of the fact that we rarely spoke about my comings and goings.  But he let me do it.  Four times.  I am forever grateful for that.

So I am getting ready to once again pack up my life, start anew and learn a new language. The packing bit and the “starting anew” bit always sucks… Being the newbie always sucks. But here I go again.

I invite you to join me as I continue to graze on this trail of life through meals and wine tastings in various countries.  On the one side, it is a way for me to scratch the surface and see into a new place, a new culture.  On the other hand, it’s also a way for me to see into myself and how I am growing and learning and tasting and changing.  With both, it’s making a trail on a path that I feel has no direction.  I am where I am simply because I’ve followed my whims.  There has been a bit of hard work and study along the way, but I do what I do because I want to.

I was thinking of occasionally flashing back and writing an odd story from the past (there are some good ones!) as well as checking in periodically to offer a snippet of where I am and what I’ve been up to.

~ Linda Violago