STIR THE POTS

Paul Newmans wine

So I am sipping my third or fourth glass of Paul Newman’s Cabernet Sauvignon picked up in Stamford at my mom's fourth of July. I am getting lit, and will probably regret it in the morning. But it's good. I'm good. I want to share some Paul Newman memories. Should  I  blog and publish or wait till the end of the afterglow, giving me time to edit?

No, here goes. I grew up in Westport, Connecticut. A suburb of New York City, it's a cozy town. A pretty town. A town Paul Newman, like me, called home. The year was around 1972 or 73' or 74'.  I forget, except that America's president was Tricky Dick and my hair fell down to my shoulders and my face had too many freckles and a big smile and one night I was at Baskin Robbins with family eating an ice cream cone, when my brother and mom got into a heated argument about a certain bald gentleman with shades. "Mom, that's Paul Newman!" "Philippe said. "Non, Philippe!" my mother said. They went back and forth like that for way too long, as only a single mom and her oldest son could do.

My brother actually had spent a short time at the same school as Newman's daughter Nell, the pretty woman you always see on the Paul's food packages, so he was even more fiercely adamant than usual.  Anyway, there I was, licking the ice cream, listening to my mother and brother argue, thinking about whether the "bald gentlemen" was or wasn't who they said, not even sure why it was so important. Shortly afterwards, I would get to see Newman and Robert Redford in Butch Cassidy, but in those few moments on a cozy summer evening in my cozy town, my round freckled face with ice cream melting onto my chest and then down to my bellybutton, I remember being struck by the passion this man's name evoked, and then suddenly some local newspaper photographer shot my picture. Paul Newman helped me get in to the newspaper!

As for his wine, well it's got a good taste. Not a Grand Cru, but not bad. Hell, even if it wasn't half as good as it is, Mr. Newman is a guy I respect for his great movies, for his ample charitable efforts, and even for opening a restaurant in a space where my brother was once sous-chef. Anyway, Paul Newman, I drink a toast to  you, hoping that like my mother, who survived cancer, that you you get better, and that you have your own summer evenings to enjoy in the future, whether with an ice cream cone or a a glass of a nice tasting wine.

Red red wine, you make me feel so fine!

I could not describe myself as a wine expert. In truth, beer is my preferred beverage. But wine comes in a close second. And though I don't read Wine Spectator, I do like picking wines sometimes just by remembering regions,labels, the grape variety and what I have  tried before. And I did enjoy the movie about wine and love, Sideways.

Yes. I like wine.  Its red color. The bouquet. The way the legs linger on the side of the glass, and especially the way people describe the way it tastes. I have heard people describe some wines of having a taste of  leather. And one of my former chefs once left his wine tasting notes on the pass. Reading the notations about a certain Alsatian wine, I remember he described it as having "the taste of ashtray!" Undoubtedly he must have picked up a glass with someone’s cigarette floating at the bottom leaving a sort of ash taste.  Luckily, I have yet to experience such flavors.

Red wine is definitely my favorite, though I can't say I would kick out a bottle of white either. For that matter nor would I snub  a rose. I don't discriminate.One of my latest and favorite findings comes from my brother, Philippe. He is my wine guide and guru. A chef at the Home Ranch a Relais Chateaux property in Clark Colorado, he sets up their wine list, and I hope to get him on board for some tips and advice on matching food with wine. Stay tuned. 

On his last visit he came over for an impromptu dinner of lamb chops with orzo and something else. Honestly, I don't quite recall the rest of the meal, because for me, the wine Philippe brought became the dinner's center point. An Owen Roe, Abbots Tale. The lamb was great but as we ate, I just swilled and took in the full body of this incredible wine. Philippe told me that the wine maker David O'Reilly had been out to the ranch for some tastings and Philippe told me to try his other notable wines, Severed Hand and Sharecroppers. Now, every wine shop I hit, I ask if they have Owen Roe because it is so dammed enjoyable to drink. Sure its price could hold you back, but once the cork is off the bottle the genie has done it's magic! The fruit taste, the balance of flavor and alcohol are so... hmmm, right there! Just one thing. Before you pour, make sure your glass is clean when you drink it.