Being a Newby Again

Ryan turned 30 years old on Monday, September 7th, however he did not leave the 20s quietly. On Friday, Saturday and Sunday we partied like college students (well students with a bit more of a developed palette) in Vancouver , BC . Harkening back to the era of running to the border for a legal underage drinking experience, we ran to the border to eat, drink, and be merry. This epic weekend was full of surprises (who knew hardcore, leather-clan Goth kids are often professionals that get simply freaky at night), but one of my favorite surprises was learning that I enjoy scotch.

I love almost all forms of whisk(e)y. Shoot. My favorite drink for years was Jim Beam with ginger ale. However, when Ryan introduced me to the smoky, stinky alcohol called scotch, I was not so impressed. Now, I knew that not all scotches taste like campfires, but after this weekend, I learned how to love the smoke.

As a birthday present to Ryan I arranged a private scotch tasting at the Irish Heather. He loves Ardbeg…a distillery that makes the smokiest of smoky scotches. Armed with that knowledge, our whisk(e)y expert took us on a ride through the best of Scotland . I have to admit that it was a good exercise for me to be a newby taster again. I have a renewed appreciation on how intimidating it is to learn about booze. I felt silly asking base questions.

- Shouldn’t I know the answer to this?
- Will the bartender think I’m stupid?
- Will the people around me think I’m silly for being so interested?
- This tastes like garbage to me. Is it supposed to taste like garbage? Is that what we’re going for?

But like any good booze teacher, our guys at the Irish Heather were not only happy to answer my questions, they were turned on by the fact that we were so curious.

With the Whiskey Bible in hand, teachers at the ready, and seven different scotches to taste with different flavor profiles, I learned not only my favorite, but that with knowledge you can learn to enjoy what was at first a rather icky thing.

So note to everyone thinking about coming to an Elemental tasting…just come. Give it a try. Ask silly questions, and in the end, you may find something you love.

It was a great lesson, and a great memory.

P.S. My favorite was from Clynelish and Ryan’s was the Ardbeg Ugedail.

Falling in Love All Over Again With Each Other and with Gozzo

This week Ryan and I had the pleasure of pouring wine for the customers and staff at the Seattle institution, Delaurenti’s at Pike Place Market. Arguably, the market was where Ryan and I fell in love, so seeing our wine at such a place was a romantic thrill. We couldn’t help stopping to say to each other, “Look how far we’ve come!”

At this tasting we poured all 3 wines in our Gozzo collection, and they were a hit! The customers loved how approachable yet complex the wine was, and for $11-12 a bottle, they recognized its incredible value. But in addition to that, they loved that is was organic…and good.

Finca Las Yeguas is the name of the winery that makes the Gozzo wine. (You can see a slideshow of our trip to the winery here.) They began in 2001 with the goal to make a quality organic wine. Ryan and I, being the hippy-dippy Seattleites that we are, went to Argentina with the mission to find a good organic product. From my experience, a large portion of organic wines taste like the weeds the grapes were grown in…grassy, dirty, unrefined, and rustic to a fault. But not Gozzo! Finca las Yeguas hit their goal with this one, and we fulfilled our mission of finding it and bringing it to the States.

Not only is the wine good, but Fincas Las Yeguas is extraordinarily dedicated to organic practices and a product free of undesirable pesticides and containments. In fact, they purposefully purchased their land closer to the Andes than any other winery in the Mendoza region. Why did they do this? If you’ll remember, Mendoza is turned into an oasis by snow run off from the looming mountains. Clean water is funneled into the region by irrigation systems created by the original indigenous groups (wow!). By being closest to the mountains, their land is irrigated first, meaning that their water is not contaminated with pesticide runoff from wineries up stream. Because of this forethought and dedication to organic products, some claim that Gozzo has the least pesticide contamination out of any wine in the region. I don’t know if this is true, but I appreciate the effort!

Understandably, Gozzo has become our best selling wine. This is not to say that our other wines aren’t worthy of extreme praise (they are!), but for good reason, people want good organic. And now they have it.

Paying Corkage on Our Anniversary

Last weekend Ryan and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary. We are officially no longer newlyweds! We celebrated by spending the day soaking our stresses away at Banya 5 before hitting the city for an evening of great food and beverages. Happy hour was a cocktail-lover’s pub crawl. Beginning with martinis at the ZigZag Cafe, continuing with Puerto Rican rum at Place Pigalle, and finishing with pastis at Le Pichet, we were well lubricated on the finest of fine spirits before walking to the charmingly rustic Entre Nous for dinner.

This restaurant was a shear delight and exactly our kind of non-pretentious food-focused dining experience. The space was nothing special (the chairs looked like they came from a teriyaki joint), but it was surprisingly warm and inviting. From glorious fondue to mom’s chocolate cake, their recipes came from the French owner’s family. Rustic, simple, flavorful…yumm!

So Ashley, how was the wine list?

Well, Ryan and I didn’t even look. We paid a corkage fee and brought a bottle of a super premium Malbec we’ve been saving since our trip to Argentina. After decanting, it was a wonderful addition to our meal, and since the bottle was so valuable, the $15 corkage fee was well worth it.

Ryan and I are fans of bringing our own wine when we dine out, and many people ask me why we do it. Doesn’t it seem like a rip off to pay a dude $15-$25 to simply open a bottle of wine – particularly when you can find wine on the menu for $25-$30? Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. And it all comes down to arithmetic.

Generally restaurants charge about double the retail price for a bottle of wine (be nice to them. It is hard to make money in that business). See a $24 bottle on the menu? You could find it for $12 at the store. If the restaurant is charging a $15 corkage, you save money by buying the bottle off the menu. If it is a special occasion and you want a fine bottle of wine, corkage makes more sense. A $100 bottle at a restaurant would be $50 at a store. Buy it ahead of time, smack on the $15 corkage, and you have money left for an after dinner drink…or a cab home.

Being in the wine business, Ryan and I receive samples of free and fabulous wine all the time. Sometimes a winery will send us five or six bottles of their wine to see if we like it, and it is always a lot of fun to try one out with our dinner. Since the price to us is nothing, it is always worthwhile to bring it along. Or, if we buy wine, it is something rare that we find during our travels…again worth the corkage. For everyone else, I recommend giving the restaurant a call to learn the corkage fee ($15 is cheap. $20 is average. $50 is out there…and stupid), think about what you want to drink that night, see what wine you have sitting around the house, and do the math. (There is one caveat, sometimes restaurants go to great lengths to put together a fun, exciting, and reasonably priced wine list. If this is the case, give it a shot, you may find something you like!).

Never be afraid to bring your own wine. But a word of caution. You can bring 3 buck chuck, but the staff will be laughing at you in the kitchen. If you’re laughing with them, then go for it!

Selling Wine is Selling Moments

Every time I sell a bottle of wine I think about how it’s going to be the partner of an utterly unique moment. From a tranquil dinner at home with family, to boisterous parties with friends, to a private cry over a broken heart, wine is so intimately entwined with these experiences that they almost become the experience. Ryan will at times say, “Well, I sold 100 cases of experiences today!”

This past weekend I had one such experience. Our very dear friends Mario and Nicole are getting married in a couple of weeks, and Ryan and I attended a BBQ thrown in their honor by Mario’s father and step mother. While I love BBQs of burgers and beer, this was not that kind of BBQ. The couples’ lovely friends gathered together in a lush and lovingly tended garden filled with flowers and ripening tomatoes. As the home is close to the Puget Sound, scents of salt water drifted over the fence to mix with the sweet smell of briquettes cooking a baby pig that was roasted for the occasion. Strangers from different corners of Mario and Nicole’s life melted together into one big family as we toasted their future happiness and fortune. As the sun set, the summer sky was painted in brilliant orange as the guys swapped Simpson quotes and the gals quizzed Nicole on how she was going to do her hair on the big day. And acting as the social lubricant of it all was a charming collection of French white and rose wines staying cool in a lovely bucket of ice -- its condensation dripping onto the patio.

I wonder what experiences Elemental wine has graced over these past months. What did it look like? Was it happy or sad? Did someone get drunk? Was the wine noticed or was it a quiet companion to the moment?

How surreal it is to think of our wine being part of a stranger’s experience.

A Crusty Baguette & Portuguese Olive Oil: A UPS Guy’s Perfect Snack

My recent series of posts have shown why importing wine is the best and most beautiful job in the entire world. I’ve received many comments from friends saying, “Wow! I’ve read your blog, and you’ve had an incredible summer!” While true, I feel the need to bring to light the day-to-day realities of our business. When I’m particularly ‘centered’, I see that our daily happenings are just as exhilarating as driving the steep slops of the Douro . During other more ‘human’ moments, they land somewhere between infuriating and mundane, but oddly enough, they are always amusing.

Take, for example, Ryan’s recent trip to our neighborhood UPS store. Ryan mails samples of wine across the country weekly to prospective customers. The law requires that any box containing alcohol must be signed for by someone over 21 years old. UPS charges a hefty fee for that service, thus increasing our weekly shipping costs. But for us, this isn’t a problem. We budget for it.

Last week, Ryan attempted to mail two bottles of Portuguese olive oil (Elemental Olive Oil? Who knows?). The box looked like the right shape for wine. It had the correct weight for wine. And Ryan’s account showed past shipments of wine…so the shop owner took it upon himself to grill Ryan about the box’s content.

“What’s in the box?” asked the UPS shop owner.
“Olive oil,” responded Ryan.
“So there’s no wine in there?”
“No, Sir.”
The shop owner lifted the box. “So…no wine whatsoever?”
“No,” Ryan answered.
Not satisfied he pressed, “But you always send wine. Why are you now sending olive oil?”
“Because I have people who want to try the olive oil.”
Still skeptical, “So you’re only now deciding to send the same size and weight of box with olive oil rather than wine, thus making your shipment cheaper?”
“Yes.”
“Really? No wine?”
“Really.”
“Ummmff…OK, then.”

Ryan later told me that he wished he brought a nice crusty baguette along so that UPS guy could have tasted the oil before he shipped it. It would have shortened the conversation, and who knows? The UPS guy could’ve had a brother who retails olive oil!

Luckily, Ryan saw his package make it on the UPS truck. It was delivered in the end.

My Random European Memories

As you may remember, Ryan and I have actually been home from Europe for over a month. These posts were written on the road in my journal, but posted upon my return. Now that the stories from our adventure have come to a close (well, I didn’t tell you about our last day in Brussels when I got sick and had to eat powdered tomato soup, but some details do not need to be shared.), I’m taking a moment to reflect on our experiences. Though I could go on for hours reminiscing about the beautiful time we had on this trip, I’ll spare you and list the top five (my favorite number) memories/ thoughts that jump into my mind:

1. The Portuguese love their port. They are very proud of their port. But they don’t drink it as often as I would have thought. In simple work-a-day restaurants the Portuguese clientele drink beer or table wine with their meals and an espresso afterwards. If they do have a digestive, port is just one choice on the menu. Regional brandies were also very popular. While they are very proud port makers, they let the rest of the world do a lot of the drinking.

2. You don’t know the true meaning of life (or the meaning of a proper hangover) until you’ve gotten drunk with close friends and family on Belgian beer in Brussels .

3. Europeans care about the environment. Ryan and I enjoyed a lovely drink with friends over candle light one night in Brussels – not because the restaurant wanted to create a romantic ambience, but rather because all the lights were switched off in solidarity with other businesses in the city for the environment. They were making a point that we don’t need to use as much energy as we think. We stayed longer because the mood among the happy drinkers was so very charming in candle light.

4. I like octopus. Chop it up. Steam it. Drizzle with fine olive oil, salt, and lemon juice. Done. Yum (once you get over the sensation of chewing on little suckers)!

5. You really don’t know the true meaning of life until you’ve drunk white port from 1954 served from a Frenchman in his port bar in Porto , Portugal .

I said it then, and I’ll say it now. If I could, I would dye my hair black and become Portuguese. Not because I don’t love my home country or my blond hair, but because that country really is that beautiful. I guess that the next best thing is to bring home some of our amazing finds to share!

Wandering in Happiness -- Lisbon

Aahh Lisbon. What a spectacular city. Ryan and I are wrapping up our Portugal adventure with a trip to its crown jewel, and we get to know it by walking…and walking…and walking. On the first day we encounter this piece of graffiti:

It translates roughly, “There is no road that leads to happiness. Happiness is the road.”

In a city where each road and passageway is more beautiful than the next, I believe this statement is oh so very true. Here is just a few of the perfect pieces of happiness we found in the streets of Lisbon.

Growing Fat and Happy on Custard

Ryan and I have begun a little game. On practically every street corner lie small bakeries selling an abundance of delectable treats. Of all we’ve tried (and we’ve tried a lot) we love the pastel de nata the most. Imagine a cupcake sized dense crème brule surrounded by a flaky, buttery crust. Ryan and I get ours to go, and in three glorious bites, we gobble them down as we walk. Each bakery boasts their family recipe is “the best” and “most authentic,” so we’ve decided to find our favorite. After eating lots and lots of them, we’ve found small differences. Some are sweeter. Some are eggy-er. Some include nutmeg and cinnamon. Some have a smaller filling to crust ratio…suffice to say we can’t decide on a favorite, and despite the miles we’re walking, we’ve gained a few pounds just on custard…sweet, sweet custard.

Sipping Shots with Berries in the Street with Locals

On the small Largo de Sao Domingos one will find a small walk up counter sandwich between a hat store and a small café. From it, two guys serve up shots of ginjiha in little plastic cups. Made from sugar, grappa and the cherry-like ginja berry, locals stand around the little plaza slowly getting tipsy as they play cards and talk to neighbors. How could we not stop! I hope ginjiha and egg custard mixes well in my stomach.

Impromptu Antique Buying from a Giggly Old Man

Buildings in Portugal are routinely decorated with brightly colored, hand pained tiles. Kitschy tourist shops sell replicas that are expensive and machine made. Being a lover of all things tile, I’ve been on the look out for the real thing, but you can’t find them anywhere…until today. Wandering in the old sailors’ quarter, The Alfama, we found a tiny antique shop. Unceremoniously tossed into a wooden crate next to the entrance sat dozens of the antique hand painted tiles obviously scavenged from a dilapidated building. One man’s trash is certainly another man’s treasure. It was sad to see these glorious pieces of history thrown in a big pile, but given their very reasonable price, Ryan and I start digging. Like lions ripping at the body of its prey, we worked with a rather ridiculous zeal. Hearing our work, the owner of the shop stepped outside to giggle at our frenzy. With a twinkle in his eye and a deep belly chuckle, he led us to the back of his shop where we found crates upon crates of more tiles! For over an hour the three of us worked to find the perfect set. Being enveloped by such an infectious laugh for so long, Ryan and I couldn’t help but giggle at our good luck as we walked out of the stop with our newly found treasures.