Chef Mateo Blog

This is the second year that El Capitan and I have made a pilgrimage to Spain, in search of good food and wines.  Last summer, Galician culture in Ribeira Sacra, drinking delicious mencia and godello crafted from impossibly terraced vineyards along the Bibei river.  This time around donned our best berets to sample Basque culture along a breathtaking countryside surrounded by mountains and ocean vistas along the Cantabrian coastline. If not for the Spanish language, you would think you were in a different country altogether.  But the Basque share a love for food, wine and adventure too, a very Spanish, if not global virtue.

Visiting the bodegas that produce txakoli requires skilled driving and expert map skills, and we persevered by making most of our appointments with only a slight fender bender.  Anyone who has driven throughout Spain knows of its narrow streets and small jutting dividers, perilous for any driver.  But the long drives and wrong turns from time to time was well worth it.  If the view and winding turns are not enough incentives, then the thirst for txakoli during a hot and humid summer would serve as the reward for our efforts.

Txakoli is consumed mainly in the Basque country and is made up of hondarrabi zuri (white) and hondarrabi beltza (red).  The mostly white wine is meant to be consumed young, and often exhibit a slightly carbonic quality specific only to txakoli.  The wines are often tart, with racy acidity, and are quite a match for fresh seafood, although some Basque claim they drink txakoli with meat dishes as well.

Txomin and Ameztoi, in Getaria, are situated atop the mountains overlooking the beach, the water, and the French frontier.  Winemaking looks incredibly challenging, except for Bulb, the Txomin dog, who enjoys fetching sticks thrown over the rail into the abyss of vines, only to return shortly with tail wagging,  prize in mouth.   The style of txakoli in Getaria is decidedly more carbonated, and enhanced so by tall pours from high above the glass, to encourage further bubbles.  Young, tart, refreshing and delicious is the name of the game.  Txakoli is meant to be consumed within two years, and some wineries bottle to order to preserve freshness and peak drinkability.

In Bizkaiko, the style of txakoli vary considerably, and are not crafted for the sake of bubbles.  On the contrary, the aim is still to produce young tart wines, but with a bit more finesse, an attempt at a distinctive white wine without much carbonation. A good example can be found at vineyards such as Uriondo, which are located on more manageable hilltops, but have the benefit of being included in part of a natural ecosystem of other plants and animals.

Some projects are new, such as at Gurrutxaga, and are still honing a particular style.   At Doniene Gorrondona, they are branching out with a tinto (red) wine which is delicious and spicy.  Nextdoor neighbor to Txomin is Ameztoi, who produce the only rosado, and happens to be one of my favorites.  The contrast of styles from Arabako to Getaria to Bizkaiko are intriguing, but the result is definitely txakoli, and Basque in spirit.

Our home base was Bilbao, where, after glimpsing the Guggenheim and the famous dog, makes one hungry.  We sought out pintxos and txakolinas, as well as tippled aged Rioja which is on every wine list and reasonably priced.  At Casa Rufo, we enjoyed a LDH Blanco 1991 for 21 euros!  The real highlight meal was at Etxebarri, a renowned asador with masterful smoking techniques.  Located in the ancient town of Axpe, the restaurant is faced by a soaring mountain.  I am not a huge of fan of smoked foods because often the dishes are oversmoked, flavors of the ingredients lost in a sea of black char.  But at Etxebarri, each dish is masterfully misted with smoke, like a soft cloud enhancing the natural juices.

Txakoli has become quite accessible in New York City and other parts of the U.S., and I believe it is a great addition to any wine list, not just for Spanish restos.  At Pata Negra, I rotate producers every couple of months, as I feel txakoli can be consumed year round.  After all, it matches quite well with jamon iberico.

Next stop on the journey, Barcelona, where tapas is on the mind.  Please check out the feature on Txakoli in the NYTimes as well as the ensuing photo gallery for highlights.

Txakoli Vines

Uriondo Vines

Ameztoi Vines

View at Gurrutxaga

Father at Uriondo

Doniene Gorrondona distillery for Orujo

Smoked Spinach soup at Etxebarri

Smoked Sea Cucumber at Etxebarri

Smoked Mussels at Etxebarri

Smoked Gambas at Etxebarri

Smoked Beef at Etxebarri

Smoked Salmon at Casa Rufo, Bilbao

'91 LDH Tondonia at Casa Rufo

Chuleton at Casa Rufo

After a long respite from one of the best food cities of North America, I am heading back to New Orleans for a look-see.    Follow me on twitter for the food and cocktail trail.

I am a February baby, and trying to figure out how to celebrate the big 40 can be a challenge.  I decided on several small celebrations, rather than a blow out gala or trip to a foreign land.  First up was a lunch with close foodie friends, gentlemen who I have known for over ten years, eaten delicacies at home, restaurants, and through many travels. We have formed our own homage to a gastronomic club like those in San Sebastian, called the Grand Crew.  There are women in this club too, but for this leg of the event, due to the limitations of time and wine quantity, the guest list was four herbs and a bottle.

It is often a task to figure out when to drink expensive wine that you’ve been cellaring, and we often try too hard to wait to open wine, when a simple occasion with friends and loved ones will do .    Not so much for a 40th birthday, the sky is the limit.  I learned from my good friend Jay, whom I have shared many a birthday bottle with, a gift from his father, who had enough foresight to buy several bottles of his son’s birth year to present as a gift when he reached the tender age of twenty one, allowing for maximum aging and enjoyment.  My father only drinks Dominican rum, and so I have sought out some wines from 1970 myself. Luckily for me, 1970 was good for Bordeaux, Barolo,  Barbaresco, Rioja, and Ribera del Duero.

The crown of my collection is a 1970 Vega Sicilia Unico, considered one of the greatest wines ever crafted in Spain and the world, and I planned the whole meal around it.  Every year I ask my grandparents and mother to make several delicacies I have enjoyed my whole life, without which there would be much less joy.  The menu was simple and complimentary to what I though the Vega Sicilia would taste like.  Pork liver pate from Dickson’s Farmstand, lamb kibbe and mechie, Middle Eastern-Haitian staples, celebratory food in the Marcelin household, a real family project and production for preparation and execution.

Kibbe is composed of ground lamb and bulgur wheat, with spices and herbs shaped into torpedoes or patties, and can be eaten raw or deep fried.  I cannot live without them.  Mechie is stuffed cabbage, grape leaves, and eggplant, filled with a rice and beef mixture, often spiced with scotch bonnet peppers.

Now that the menu was set, other wines had to be considered. El Capitan brought a white, and wanted to bring a Champagne.  In my absolute anticipation of the Unico, I could not think clearly, and only asked for he white, a grave error, especially for a Champagne whore such as myself!  But we survived, being consoled by a tremendous Chablis from Dauvissat, a 1999 premier cru, “La Forest”, brimming with exuberance, almost too delicious for its own good, not allowing for time to appreciate, bestow compliments and evolve in the glass.  The middle wine was a gift from Maria Jose of Lopez de Heredia, who I visited this past summer in La Rioja, and generously sent me home with two ‘64’s, both Bosconia and Tondonia.  This would be the wine to lead up to the Unico, as I was careful not to drink them side by side begging for comparison, as both are outstanding wines in their own right.

I played Haitian music throughout the meal, and that accompanied with our friendship and the amazing food, caused dancing in the seat, especially after we sipped the ’64 LDH, a gorgeous, floral, feminine beauty, standing up to the spiciness of the kibbe, and enhancing our appreciation of it.  We were drinking the Bosconia, which Maria Jose swears is more masculine in style than the Tondonia, and that the bottling choice was a mistake they never chose to correct.  I can’t wait to try the Tondonia to corroborate her story.  I know she is the winemaker, but all Bosconias I have tasted in the past seem feminine to me, and all Tondonias, more masculine.

The kibbe was the best I had ever tasted.  I went to Dickson’s Farmstand for all the meat, which added a brightness to each bite, the lamb bringing the dish to the next level.  The mechie was delicate, steaming and nuanced were the flavors, built from slow simmering.

Then we opened the Vega Sicilia Unico, which was an indescribable wine.  It was elusive, powerful yet finessed, not young or old, ageless.  I have actually been thinking about how to describe this wine for several days now, and have come no closer to understanding its seduction.  It is easily the greatest wine of my memory, a real masterpiece.  Its flavor profile is just delicious, and talking about this wine in an academic way is to dishonor the spirit of this wine, which promotes a feeling of being very special just by drinking it.

We had some wine left in the glass for the Vacherin Mont d’Or, easily my favorite cheese in the world, consumed in minutes, raw milk unctuous creaminess sopped up with a filone from Grand Daisy, followed by chocolate covered almonds from Jacques Torres.                                          

The jubilee was at a zenith when I opted for the Cohibas and Havana Club, even Dr. L. and Jay could not refuse, an absolutely perfect pairing, sending us into a dizzying frenzy of euphoria, blunting our palate so as not to drink more vintage wine, thankfully what a defense.

Somehow I made it to Pata Negra later that evening, high on life and happy to see friends and new clients at my place of business.  I was surprised to receive another gift from Maria Jose, delivered to my door during the day, all handled secretly by the lovely Chris, the charming mademoiselle who you will find working the room at Pata Negra when I am not around.  I remember having a conversation about drinking birth year wines very casually, and she offered to send me a 1970 LDH.  I didn’t think on it until the bottle was in my hand, a Tondonia.  She is most gracious for the gift, and I felt blessed to have such fine friends and family all who have showered me with gifts throughout my life.  I am truly grateful.

At 40 I have learned something important from that Unico, that age is just a number, that we should strive to be like a great wine, elegant, powerful, indescribable, delicious and timeless.

Having spent a week in my second adopted neighborhood in New York, Tribeca, I have noticed some subtle changes in the restaurant landscape.

More than ever, at night, it is quiet, and that can be directly related to the Triburbia effect, meaning the rising number of stay at home moms with strollers who have traded in late night dinners for lunch/shopping.

Many restaurants have closed, most notably Chanterelle and Danube, and there are more empty spaces now than I can remember, testifying to the rising rents everywhere.  The quality of some existing restaurants have slipped too. Old standbys like Tribeca Grill and The Odeon have not kept up with the times, serving mediocre food for unjustified prices, and the basic grub stops such as Edward’s or Petite Abeille, or Max, might as well be located in the Upper East Side.  It’s a bad sign when a chain comes along, like Dean’s pizza, further signifying a changing of the guard.  More Duane Reades, banks and chain stores like Subway.  I had a few recent meals at Bouley Upstairs and Blau Gans, and although the meals were fine, they were not up to par compared to past experiences.  I am still wondering about Nobu’s consistency.

The Little American Place, Kitchenette, Mangez avec Moi have all had changes in their food, I feel, and the void for cuisine ethnic and exciting has not been filled.

There is still a proliferation of Italian restaurants, mostly overpriced and antiquated.  This is pasta better off made at home.  There isn’t a decent burger in sight, maybe Landmark, and the steakhouses Wolfgang’s and the Palm, are not first choices for a fab cut of beef. Megarestos like Megu, Matsugen, and Ninja, still seem to stay open somehow.  Thank goodness Chinatown is so near.

Newcomers like Bar Artisanal and Locanda Verde are trying to fill the void, but my recent trips to these bars proved fatefully malserviced, coupled with uninspired, small portioned food.  The perennial brunch pleaser, Bubby’s is trying to become a late night destination.  Alas early on a Sunday night, they were out of the ribs.  I guess they are trying to fill the void left by Florent’s closing, picking up a weary Soho crowd.  Bouley Market is trying to be a wine bar at night, but the space is simply not conducive to this conversion.  I still enjoy the Japanese small plates at B Flat, a jazz mecca with fine cocktails, and have yet to give Macao Trading Co. a second chance.  Visits to Macao upon opening left me confused.

At the moment Tribeca still seems like a good destination for lunch, from the Bangladesh eateries closer to the courthouses to the Korean fried chicken at Bon Chon, including several pubs that are open for lunch offering good pub fare.  There are a couple of bars on the clandestine side, not speakeasy, but hard to find.  77 Warren might have the right vibe and feel, but their hours are not set in stone.

Pastries are still good at Duane Street Patisserie and Bouley Market, but when will real artisanal coffee arrive?  Stumptown, Counter Culture, anyone?

I still enjoy Tribeca, and will continue too seek out good quality food there, but in the meanwhile, it’s Winnie’s, NY Noodletown, Big Wong, Fuleen’s, and Grand Sichuan for me.

Every other week there is a hotly debated discussion about beer vs. wine.  The beer advocates feel beer gets an unfair shake in terms of craftsmanship and are further looked down upon by wine drinkers.  The wine advocates think it is more difficult to make wine and feel beer consumers are what the commercials portray them to be, uneducated drunkards with zero palate.  Perhaps this attitude is not shared by the winemakers or workers in the industry.  Peek at the beverage that any one of these folks have in hand during leisure time and you can be all-in that the drink of choice is beer.

As Mr. Asimov pointed out in his blog, The Pour,  beer and wine need not be adversaries, merely complimentary choices.  The horrific marketing ads for beer made without quality paint beer consumers as dolts, and after any real discussion with an avid beer lover, you will discover the same passion and knowledge as a wine geek who casually spouts out malolactic fermentation and indigenous yeasts.  It begs the question, why the divorce?  Why not a reconciliation? If one can have several courses during a meal, why not several different beverages?  Why all the rules and animosity?

I like to start with Champagne, or beer or cocktail, then move towards wine, including sherry, ultimately returning to beer or champagne at the end.

Last week I had much to celebrate.  I received I high rank in Aikido, I was a guest on a cable tv cooking show, and I attended the JETS game.  My drink of choice is Champagne, but I opted for beer at the Burger Joint, located in the Parker Meridien Hotel (still my burger of choice in a burger mad city).  The Sam Adams Boston Lager was on tap and in pristine form, full of body and frothy, perfect for the occasion, having just finished my Aikido exam.  Later in the week I found myself at the underground (literally) pizza shop speakeasy at 6th and Avenue B, although I ordered a bottled beer that was much less satisfying.  Finally on Sunday, I celebrated the Yankees victory while watching the JETS, reaching for old standbys Bass Ale and Guinness on tap, which after those two kickoff returns by Ted Ginn Jr.,drowned my sorrows appropriately.

I look at beer as a mini Champagne, a tiny split if you will, and the only decision you have to make is to choose a good one, or at least one to your liking, much like I prefer drinking vintage over non-vintage, except that the cost comparison is recession friendly.  Six packs work just as well as a bottle of wine.  Two people or four can share.  At my favorite Cantonese place, Phoenix Garden, which has a BYOB policy, I often bring a six pack of lager, and then esoteric white wines, just to try different flavor combos and pairings, returning to beer throughout the meal.  But there is no need to quarrel over which, I say choose both.

This week I will be heading at Minetta Tavern for a celebratory black belt meal.  Will it be beer, Champagne, or cocktail to start?  Maybe all three.  The beauty is in the choice and my mood, no rules or arguments.  It all fits.  It’s all good.  It’s all celebration.