It has been over two decades since I’ve seen a real autumn. I’ve enjoyed walking out on the balcony each day to witness the changes along Broadway and the West Hills with OHSU in the distance.  Some days are more dramatic than others. Presented from over the last 40 days, the final pic shot this morning. Thank you, Portland.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

One of the appeals, if not a flat out benefit, of working at an izakaya is learning a completely new palate language.  My palate up until now has been rooted in Western, mainly French, culinary traditions, but it didn’t take long after starting at Biwa to realize Japanese vinegary is different than the French notion.

Learning might not exactly be the word I should use, but rather I’m assimilating to a new palate language. Moreover, I have resisted the temptation to go over-analytical or academic on understanding this new cuisine.  As this is not how anyone learns food. Japanese kids aren’t given a manual explaining how their food should smell and taste; therefore, I want the development of my palate language to be subtle, natural and unforced.  I also resist the temptation to think, “Oh, I got this” or “I understand this right away,” like neophytes to wine often do, mistaking their enthusiasm for experience or discernment.

So what is a palate language? It’s not really about words.  It’s more about picturing in my mind what Japanese cuisine [both food and beverage] feels like, making its essence a matter of fact or second nature as in socialization.  What’s more, I can see why Biwa is so busy. Guests dine at a very reasonable price point in a casual, yet intimate room and experience a new palate language, too.

What I have learned thus far
Pronounced food flavors and subtle drinks: It’s ironic that Japanese food [to a Western palate] should have so many pronounced flavors: salty, fermented, vinegary and soy, while Japanese drinks such as sake are very subtle.  If one looks at wine, the main drink accompaniment to better dining in the Western world, you’ll notice by comparison, it is not very subtle.  With its higher acid framework, wine cuts through flavors and gets noticed.  Or take shochu, the famous distillate of Southern Japan, this is a subtler drink than its Western cousins vodka, rum and gin. Shochu has a lower abv, which quietly presents its flavor profile.

Rice is sticky: The next thing I’ve noticed is the main starch, rice, is way stickier than the starches of Western cuisine [caveat: I’m not talking about starch as a plat principal, but as a condiment]. When enjoying Japanese food with rice, you’re introducing a stickier texture into the mix.  Even when I’m bussing tables, sticky rice is everywhere on the table, on the floor, on my hands and my clothes. It’s easy to see why it’s an integral part life. Overall, texture is very important in understanding Japanese food and drink. There’s palate weight and feel to the cuisine, which I’m just now starting to grasp, and I’m learning the impression of balance is different in Japanese cooking than its impression in Western cuisine.

Slurping is fun: The third thing, I’ve noticed, thus far, is Westerners cannot separate the cuisine from the manner in which it is eaten with chopsticks, and in the case of noodles, slurped. It’s part of the whole dining package and part of the fun. I can’t tell you how happy I am on a night off after having a couple of drinks, coming in to Biwa and slurping down a bowl of Ramen with Anne. And even though I suck at using chopsticks, it just feels right. Additionally, in Eastern cuisine, diners will pick up a bowl of broth and put the rim of the bowl directly on their mouths to eat. That’s awesome, not going to do that at Jean-Georges!

But other than learning a handful of things on Japanese cuisine, I’ve got a long ways to go. Kana has offered me the wine list to manage and curate, which I’m thrilled to do, but I didn’t want to begin until I started getting my palate language down a little. I’ll need to be able to switch back and forth between my refined Western palate and my developing Eastern palate. This is important when serving [mainly Western] guests: to know and recommend, you’d probably still enjoy a glass of wine with your pork belly, but most definitely, you would rather drink sake with saba nanbanzuke.

I’ve started preliminary sake vs. wine comparisons on my nights off. This night, the Bouvier Marsannay’s higher acid was excellent for fattiness of the shio-yaki saba [mackerel], but overly accentuated the salty characteristics of the dish. The sake flight was better suited to the fish.

On another night, I brought in a lower acid Marcel Deiss Pinot Gris. Its sweet framework fared well with some menu items, but again the good everyday sake Otokoyama really hit the mark with the majority of the dishes we ordered. I’m thinking a traditional Rioja Blanco is the next comparison I’ll make. 

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

I’ve only tasted Domaine Dupont’s cider in NYC. I am beyond happy to find it here in Portland; hopefully I can find their Calvados next.

The color is 24-carat yellow gold with a smidge of cloudiness and a pristine ultra-fine mousse. The bouquet is intense and complex: ginger, apple butter, quince paste, honey, baked pear, gardenia, brett, clove, and light vanilla. The demi-sec palate displays all the complexity of the nose adding lemon custard, grilled and caramelized peaches, and roasted pineapple. The abv is 6.9%.

One of the greatest ciders you’ll taste, served in a chalice at Bushwhacker Cider; $20 for the 750ml bottle. Split one with a friend; you’ll be glad you did. 

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

A couple of days ago, I was bragging to my brother Joe about the dry autumn we’ve had this year in Portland and how even though I'm working, I feel like I'm on vacation still. We traded emails and texts; it was good to hear from him. We haven’t caught up since I left Texas. The very next day, just before work, the rain hit.  Not the light, almost invisible mist Portland seems to have constantly, not the torrential flood-producing downpours Texans get when rain finally hits either, but a medium to heavy-ish rain shower. I was ready: two new fenders on my new bike, rain pants, a sweet new Gore-Tex jacket I bought at Buffalo Exchange for $75.  Plus, it’s not like I live that far from work, two miles from Biwa. I put an extra pair of socks in my bag as was recommended to me and rode to work.

I came to find out my rain pants sort of suck, the jacket works marvelously, the lights on my bike are as important as my helmet, and that I should expect to change my socks as soon as I hit the door at work. All in all, not a bad initiation.

There’s a reason why Portland restaurant service is casual. Much of the staff of a restaurant are bike commuters or car-less. Many of the patrons are in fact as well. Half hour after I started my shift, two gentlemen in their early fifties came in all rain-geared out, fresh off their bikes, soaked on the outside, dry underneath; they hung up their protective layers and sat down to enjoy a meal.  Portland’s just a more casual “get it done” kind of city, the opposite of stuffy.  Sort of refreshing, if not just a little wet at times, too.

So, I was bragging about a dry autumn to my brother Joe the other day. He was bragging about the new Lamborghini Gallardo he just picked up. Nice.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

The Kapuziner Weißbier is as fun to look at as it is to drink, like a liquid version of lemon meringue pie: a thick foamy head atop a beer of rich yellow color that is medium-plus cloudy with high effervescence.  The bouquet is pineapple, hay, iron, fresh-squeezed orange juice and mango.

The palate is clean and bitter throughout with remarkable subtleties for a weißbier, just a hint of spice on the tongue with a tiny bit of banana peel. The texture is round, yet the beer is very refreshing. The tropical fruit nuances are at the forefront and it finishes with a hint of granite minerality. The abv is 5.4%.

I taste so many beers from Oregon and the West Coast, but today I decided to take my palate further afield to Prost! on N. Mississippi. I love this place.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

A delicious cider from Pays d’Auge in Normandy, this Christian Drouin is an amber-gold color with fine bubbles of moderate-plus effervescence. The nose is powerful, fresh and skin-y. It displays red and yellow apple flesh, green apple skin with fresh grated ginger, celery and honey. The palate is rich and medium-dry, a sweet orchard profile with plenty of acidity behind it. The mid-palate is slightly sour with a hint of rain-touched foliage. The cider finishes gracefully with ginger and honey. The abv is 4.5%. An excellent price, $15 for a 750ml bottle, served in a stemless wine glass.

This was an evening to enjoy French cider. As coincidence would have it, there was also a [free!] tasting at Bushwhacker of the superb ciders from Eric Bordelet: Poire Authentique, Sidre Tendre, Sidre Argelette, Poire Granite. These were all amazing.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

I recently heard about a bar in Portland, which specializes in cider. The name of the place is Bushwhacker on SE Powell. Anne and I checked it out yesterday, just before dusk.

The room is low-tech and super chill. A small bar with seven taps behind it and a case to the right with 130+ ciders from all over the world. Even Domaine Dupont’s are represented. Nice.

Much like going to Bailey’s Taproom [in fact even more so than Bailey’s Taproom] it seems like we’re going back in time with the pricing. A generous tasting tray of five ciders on tap, arranged from driest to sweetest is five-bucks!? An eight ounce pour of any cider on tap is two-bucks!? We ordered the tasting tray, tried glasses of the other two ciders on tap and Anne ordered a hot mulled pumpkin cider. The total bill was $16 for eight ciders. C’MON, that’s crazy! The prices from their bottle selection looked as if these were set a little under normal retail, which you may drink there or take to go. Bushwhacker also makes cider on the premises, I ordered a full glass of their ginger cider called Red-Headed Stranger. Lovely.

Anne’s a recent fan of cider, after she tasted the Julian on tap at Cheese Bar. I’m glad because I really like cider, too and Bushwhacker is cider drinking Shangri-La.

Above on the tasting tray right to left: Blue Mountain Estate WInesap, Oregon | Magners, Ireland | Tieton Apricot, Washington | Westons Stowford Press, England | Fox Barrel Blackberry Pear, California

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

 

 

I’ve heard many fantastic things said about the guys at Upright Brewing. To say they are well-respected is probably an understatement. Each Friday, they open the doors to their facility from 4:30 to 9pm [as well as Saturdays and Sundays from 1 to 6pm]. I had a Friday night off, so I decided to pay them a visit.

Upright Brewing is located in the basement of the Left Bank Building on N. Broadway about two miles from my home. It is a small facility with a small tasting room.  Even with all the barrels, fermenters, kegs and bags of grain, you feel like you’re in someone’s home. The vibe is dope. Brent’s spinning records on the turntable, conversations about technique, hand-bottling and semantics going on around the room.  It’s raining outside, we’re all completely underground, and the beers are only $1.50 per five ounce glass. How cool is that?

Of all Northwest beers I’ve tasted since moving here this summer, Upright’s are by far the most elegant. Beers made for beer nerds for sure, but beers made for wine geeks, too. They’re just so finely wrought and perfect for food. Here’s what I sampled, below.

Engelberg Pilsener
light gold color, fine bubbles, thin sticky head; bouquet is fresh lemon, lemon custard, and lemon peel with a hint of beeswax; the palate is clean with light maltiness, crisp and bitter on the backend; it’s pretty much a delicious swiller.

Hits From the Vine
a fresh hop ale; light gold color, fine bubbles, Champagne-like; the nose is complex- lardo, meaty, smoky [I’m going to have to call unintentional brett here] with under-ripe green apple, orange spice and fresh lemon; the palate is bitter with a long finish and yellow apple notes emerging.

Monte Fisto Blend
a blend of two stouts, one is aged in whiskey barrel; the color is black with a rich head; the nose is malty, hoisin sauce, coffee, linen and a smidge of oven drip pan; the palate is malty, syrupy dark roast coffee, huge with layers and layers of flavors, the stout finishes with caramelized poultry skin, buttered popcorn and hoisin.

Studebacher Hoch
a strong ale; deep amber red, almost opaque; the bouquet offers cracked wheat, hay, honey, grass, fresh red apple and tangerine; the palate is creamy and rich with honey-grassy-hay elements, orange peel and a mellow malty finish.

Six
a dark rye beer; deep amber, semi-cloudy, hi-effervescence and minimal head; the nose is Weetabix, vanilla wafer, wet concrete, and waxy lemon; the palate is creamy, full, bitter and bitey with red apple skin, candied apple notes, a hoppy floral pekoe nuance and finishes with apple, clove and orange oil.

Random Notes: Cash or check only; Upright Brewing allows you to bring your bike directly into the facility, which I did. My old bike got jacked a month ago. I bought brand new bike and I’m still a little overprotective of it. If you’re visiting town on a food trip, make sure you see these guys.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine