When Anne walks through the door with Chicken Liver Bourbon Mousse from Chop Butchery & Charcuterie, I am happy.  This is a new ritual on Saturday morning when she returns from the Portland Farmers’ Market at PSU where Chop has a space. There is love in their product. The cured sausages are delicious, particularly the Herbes de Provence, but my favorite item from their repertoire is the Chicken Liver Bourbon Mousse.

I’ll usually eat it with a little mustard on some crusty bread. This day, picture above, I’m enjoying it with honey from Salmon Creek Apiary [Battle Ground, WA] and Ken’s Artisan bread. I warmed up the bread slightly, drizzled a little honey on the bottom, and slathered the mousse on top.

My fascination with chicken liver started when I was a child. My father would drag me along to the Advance Building in Southfield, Michigan to visit his friend Sam. The Advance Building was a sort of wholesale shopping mall for jewelers, one entire floor of an office building hi-rise subdivided into businesses dedicated to diamonds and precious metals. I remember this was the first time I saw a serial number tattooed on the arm of Holocaust survivor. This was Sam’s arm, signifying he had survived Auschwitz. This was also the first time I tasted chicken liver. He asked me, if I was hungry. I replied, “Yes.” He reached behind him, grabbed a wrinkly, brown paper bag, pulled out a jar of mustard, seedless rye, and a container of chopped chicken liver. Crumbs strewn about his glass-enclosed diamond counter as he proceeded to make me a sandwich on top of it. Nice. Thick-crusted bread, pungent & rich liver with sharp mustard, I was immediately hooked. Sam was a very kind man. I always appreciated the friends my dad kept.  They weren’t like the friends my friends’ fathers had. I recall whenever Sam would go down the hall to use the restroom, he would take a pistol and tuck it into his trousers. These were eye-opening times for me. I enjoyed making the rounds with my father when I was young, realizing his life was far removed from the suburbs where he had moved us. 

When I taste the Chicken Liver Mousse from Chop, although it is an elevated [and superior] expression of chopped chicken liver, it always reminds me of this time, hanging around Sam’s when I was a boy.          

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

The 2008 Rainer Wess Riesling Achleiten has an electric light straw color with green flecks; the concentration is medium-minus and the viscosity is medium-plus. The nose has a moderate intensity and combines citrus and orchard fruits: lemon, tart yellow skinned apple, tart red skinned apple, under-ripe brown skinned pear. Wet stone minerality meets apple blossom.  On the palate, the wine is almost bone dry with a medium-minus body. There is a hint of orange oil added to the fruit nuances, but overall the fruits display the same tartness as the nose, yet the mouthfeel is incredibly supple. Floral and stony. The acid is high. The finish is longer and minerally. A very elegant Riesling, which borders on being powerful backed by 13% abv. Nice wine for under thirty dollars. Drink it with Asian take-out or fried chicken.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

The most fun of any activity or pursuit is the beginning, not knowing how things will turn out, curiosity without a road map. In this respect, beginnings are also humbling as folks have to admit having no idea regarding something they’re truly excited about.

My first [real] ramen experience was about a year ago at Biwa. It was fantastic, but it was the third dinner of that particular night on our first trip to Portland.  We sought to soak up as much experience as we could, our stomachs and livers be damned. So, it was a long night of frequent stops to eat and drink, but I remember delicious noodles in salty broth; they also prepared a plate of scallops in sake lees. Yum! There was a lot going on that trip, but I remember a note-to-self moment: “put ramen on the list of things to contemplate later.”

A friend of mine Jesse Bates and I were drinking beer last week.  He said he wanted to check out Wafu; he heard it might be good. He knows a lot more about ramen than I, he’s had some really great ramen in his life, been to Japan and all that. So off we went.

I wouldn’t know how authentic Wafu’s ramen is; how would I?  Even reading all about ramen in Lucky Peach, David Chang’s inaugural quarterly, isn’t going to make me an expert. Actually, it does the opposite; I realize how little I know.  Is authentic ramen really what I should be looking for? Can it exist here in the USA? Those are questions for the experts. So the real question is: what did I think of Wafu’s ramen? The ramen at Wafu was so good, the very next day I wanted to go back and eat it again. I’ve been twice now, having ordered the pork bone ramen and the Wafu ramen.  I will soon be back again.

Pork Bone Ramen with ginger pork sausage and slow poached egg 

Wafu Ramen with pork belly, slow poached egg and confit chicken leg 

I’m a ramen fan, very late in the game, but a fan all the same and at the very beginning of the journey. Everything is new. Everything is delicious. Everything is an education. I have no level of discernment, I have to admit. I don’t know what I’m doing, only that I’m enjoying the trip, finding pleasure in what I’m sensing, smelling, tasting and above all compelled to learn more about it and to respect the endeavor of the folks bringing it.

I have to advocate picking up a copy of Lucky Peach, particularly this ramen issue. It’s provocative, educational, funny and smart; the art direction rocks; and it’s well worth the ten-bucks.  You might not agree with everything that’s said in it and isn’t that refreshing?

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

I’m lucky enough to live right by Stumptown at the Ace Hotel, which is where I purchase my coffee for home.  Although I enjoy the coffee, I’m also quite impressed by their packaging.

Like all things I drink, coffee is a pleasure and an education: the drink unexamined is not worth drinking.  In the past [pre-Stumptown], I would purchase beans, take them home, place the beans in an airtight container, throw away the bag that had the estate name on it, thinking “I’ll remember what I purchased,” and of course would forget every time.  Stumptown’s packaging not only gives the date of roast on the bag, but comes with a removable mini-spec sheet, a card detailing: on the front- location, elevation, varietal info and flavor profile; and on the back- more specific grower and site information.

The spec sheet allows me to keep track of what I’m drinking, helps me repurchase the estates I like and avoid the coffees that aren’t suited to my palate, and above all, teaches me something about what I purchased. I keep the little cards in the cupboard where I keep the coffee.  Education is the best marketing. Every time I open the cupboard, there are those cool little cards, telling their stories and reminding me where I purchased the delicious coffee.  Brilliant marketing collateral / form follows function.

Portland is a city filled with many fantastic roasters, Stumptown’s packaging is that helpful key differentiator, which makes them standout.  Not to mention, with every purchase of a bag of beans you're offered a free small cup of French press brewed coffee from their rotating roster of estates.  I usually forgo the free coffee, only because I order an espresso to drink there when I get my beans for home, but it’s a nice perk all the same.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

Preamble: Brettanomyces, a yeast, is a hotly debated subject in the world of wine. “Brett,” as it is called, is considered by many winemakers an olfactory and palate defect in red wine. Other winemakers and critics champion [or tolerate it] in small doses, but brett is hard to contain or harness, so winemakers spend great lengths and financial resources to eradicate it.  I’ve heard that the ultra-prestigious Vega-Sicilia estate in Ribera del Duero spent a fortune renovating their facilities to make absolutely certain that brett could not infest their wines.

What does Brettanomyces taste and smell like? Descriptors include: barnyard, stable, smoky, spicy, horsy, bandage, cheesy, sweaty, wet animal, leathery, medicinal, and rancid. For me, I like to encounter a hint of brett on occasion; it adds a type of rustic complexity to wines. Bear in mind, flaws can be poignant sometimes.

As the battle of brett rages on in the two camps: “some brett is good” vs. “even a little brett is a flaw,” the only convincing argument I’ve read for its eradication is one: since all red wines on earth are susceptible to Brettanomyces, which affects smell and taste [causing “rustic complexity” as I call it], then wines lose their typicité.  Think of typicité as the grape or wine in its place. This is what makes a Napa Cab a Napa Cab and Bordeaux a Bordeaux and so on.  So, if brett is present, typicité is lost because you’re left with smelling brett, not the wine from a specific place. This is the argument made by Pascal Chatonnet, a pioneer tackling the brett problem of Bordeaux wines in Jamie Goode’s The Science of Wine. Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005.

Yes, it is difficult for me to refute this argument, but that’s the wine world. How does brett relate to beer? Lambic ales from Belgium are spontaneously fermented with ambient Brettanomyces yeast and the resultant beers are vinous and sour, but Geuze and fruit Lambics are not what I would call “bretty,” per se.  My first encounter with a real Brettanomyces-forward ale was tasting Russian River Brewing Co.’s Supplication. I was like: “That’s sour, that’s bretty, that’s crazy good!”

Sorry for the long preamble, but as a sommelier, I have to explain a little bit about Brettanomyces, my experience with brett, and where I fall on the “Brett Good”/ “Brett Bad” Continuum.  I can only say this for certain: I’m glad I don’t have the same apprehensions as a winemaker.  They have so many concerns and obstacles in a given year to make their wines, and I’m sure it’s beyond frustrating when some critic or lab-coat calls your wine a brett-bomb.

Back to the beer: What if you hung your hat on Brettanomyces? You considered it a blessing and not a flaw. You sought to harness it; in fact, you’re hoping it does give your final product its typicité.  You’re championing it. You’re marketing under its banner. This seems to be the quest of Gabe and Jacenda Fletcher and their labor of love, Anchorage Brewing Company. 

The color is a copper-orange, slightly cloudy, high effervescence of fine bubbles; the head is firm, thick and sticky. The bouquet is as complex in a beer as I’ve ever encountered and behaves much like an aged wine, changing much in the glass over the course of an hour and a half. At first, it’s upfront sour fresh red cherry, but this dissipates quickly to yield orange peel, clove, nutmeg, dried laurel, sweaty leather saddle, cooked meat, dried roses, dried mint, mint oil, orange oil, lemon peel, orange pith, wet gauze, lemon wax, dried lavender, cut-in-mouth blood, peppermint oil, ripe tangerine, bee pollen and hay.

The palate displays the bouquet nuances to a tee with the gamey nuances weaving in and out of the botanical, fruit, bitter pith and peel notes. The weight or body is full, similar to Chimay Cinq Cents.  This is a finely wrought and complex, yet absolutely refreshing, beer with a long finish of peppermint, chamomile, tangerine oil, game and lavender; plus Love Buzz hides its 8% abv well.

I purchased the 750ml bottle of Anchorage Brewing Company Love Buzz, to-go at Bailey’s Taproom, enjoyed it at home in a Spiegelau brandy snifter, ½ full at around 60-degrees.The last glass from the bottle was paired with a cheese and heirloom tomato with saffron salt pizza.

Final thought: If Brettanomyces is difficult to control, like a winemaker not being able to control the weather, then brewing with brett should yield variations from batch to batch, just as vintage variations in wine. This is a good thing and the mark of a truly non-commercial, artisanal product. I look forward to tasting Batch #2 when released.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

Château Fortia Châteauneuf-du-Pape “Tradition” is that in your face 15% abv monster that should satisfy the Cab drinker, the Amarone lover and the Rhône fanatic.  The color is garnet to ruby with a medium-plus concentration and high viscosity of lightly stained tears.  The robe has a slight variation showing brick to garnet.  The bouquet is powerful with a hint of age, displaying dusty sour cherries, dates, figs, dried raspberry and white raisin. The non-fruit nuances are lilac, gardenia, Irish soda bread, sage, a hint of white pepper and potting soil. The palate is dry and full bodied with the violets and sage amplifying and the potting soil taking on a mushroom quality.  The tannins are medium-plus, the acid is medium-plus and the finish is long and lavender-y.

Well worth the mid-thirties I paid for it. Drink this Châteauneuf-du-Pape with meat or cheeses. The dried fruit nuances lend themselves quite nicely to hard cheeses in particular.

I love cycling to Marine Drive. There are so many ways to get there, but I think my favorite route is the Springwater Corridor to the 205 bike path to Marine Drive on the Columbia River.  It’s all path, no motorized vehicles allowed, that’s what's so cool about it: riding for over 20 miles before having to worry about cars [occasional intersections notwithstanding]. Then heading home south on Vancouver Ave. to the Broadway Bridge is a lot of fun.

The 205 also goes to Washington. I remember about 2 ½ months ago when Cliff, the owner of the People’s Pig, told me that you can ride the 205 directly to Vancouver.  I didn’t realize how close Washington is until this moment.

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

The color is copper-orange with a thin head and moderate effervescence. This beer needs to warm up a bit to gain its olfactory profile; so take a pause, then you’ll smell nuances of green skinned pear, muted bubblegum, canned pear, canned peach and star anise. The palate is fruity and bitter: peach, pear, apricot pit, tangerine, lemon oil and pith, light vanilla and star anise with 7.9% abv. The finish is peachy with apricot pit bitterness. The sweeter fruit nuances and the bitterness play off each other well and give the beer incredible depth and harmony.  

Although this is a Saison with mango, don’t expect to taste a bunch of mango.  Think of it more like wine. The taster compares nuances in the wine to other fruits, rather than saying it tastes of grapes or is “grapey.” Here the mango is reminiscent of other fruits, mainly orange skinned varieties.

Top Ten Reasons I’ve Posted an Increased Number of Beer Tasting Notes

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

10 I just moved to Portland, so I have a lot of catching up to do
09 Going out for beer is still the most economical way to get your drink on
08 I live down the street from Bailey’s Taproom and next door to Higgins; gimme a break!
07 Drinking great beer and being unemployed go hand in hand; everyone knows that!
06 After biking around this hilly city, beer is way more refreshing
05 Every time I go out for beer, I learn something new
04 It’s about paying my respects to another brilliant aspect of craft culture here in Portland
03 I’m so sick of wine right now, not like it’s bunk; I just need a pause from it
02 I enjoy building and practicing my palate vocabulary for beer
01 It’s summertime! At least for a couple more weeks

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine

I’ve heard of these special beers before, hailing from Franken, Germany and referred to as Rauchbier or smoked beer. I was stoked [bad pun intended] to try the Upright Brewing [Portland, OR] version at Bailey’s Taproom.  This is a new release.  

The color is pale gold with a light cloudiness, a thin sticky head and moderate effervescence. The bouquet is juicy fruit gum, honeycomb, and toasted wheat biscuit. The palate is refreshing and expansive: lightly smoked brioche with honey drizzle, very round on the tongue [not aggressive] and very clean with an abv of 4.9%. The hops are toned down and do not compete with the smoked notes, but then again, the smoke doesn’t dominate the whole beer either.  It is subtle. This Rauchbier reminds me of when a mixologist adds just a barspoon’s worth of Single Malt Scotch to a cocktail recipe, adding a smidge of smokiness to the drink: imparting the flavor, yet making sure the drink is balanced.This is the first Rauchbier I’ve ever tasted. I know it won’t be the last.

[Note: Helles is a type of Lager, so a smoked Lager, basically]

Top Ten Reasons I’ve Posted an Increased Number of Beer Tasting Notes

Anthony Garcia
http://twitter.com/wineisdivine