My first virtual wine tasting, a few months ago, was hosted by Campo Viejo. When I received the invitation, I was intrigued by the concept and agreed to participate. Before the tasting, three bottles of Rioja arrived in the mail along with tasting notes and instructions about signing online to meet the Spanish winemaker.
I sat at my desk in our basement office with three open bottles of wine and logged in through Adobe Connect. After a brief video about the vineyard, the screen opened to a live video feed of the vintner and a woman who interviewed him. We were guided through the tasting all the while “chatting” and asking questions in a chat room on the right side of the screen and tweeting using a special hash tag to connect our conversation. This is the new online world of culinary exploration.

For my second experience, I wizened up and invited four friends to engage in the experience and most of all, help me drink the wine! Last week, we took part in the Carmenere & Curry virtual tasting. A public relations firm representing the wines of Chile sent 8 bottles of wine from different vineyards but all made with the Carmenere grape. This time, I received spices and recipes for food pairings. They suggested that the Carmenere grape would pair well with tandoori and madras curry dishes. Also included were tasting placemats and notes about the wines and the vintners.

We perched the computer on the pass-through from the kitchen to the dining room and opened all the bottles of wine to watch and listen to the tasting. I prepared tandoori chicken, squash and spinach curry, basmati rice, yogurt sauce and cucumber mint relish. What ensued was an enjoyable night of consumption as we did our best to stay focused on the eight Chilean wine makers who each talked about his/her wine, added a few comments to the online chat room, agreed that the Indian dishes paired well with Carmenere, noted our favorites and engaged in some heated (wine induced?) conversation.
My first virtual wine tasting found me alone in the basement with three open bottles and a bunch of wasted wine. This time, it became clear that I had chosen the appropriate guests when we polished off the last drop of our 8th bottle of wine. These friends were determined to do whatever it took to help me make the most of the wine tasting experience! (It was during much of the next day that many of them realized the price of their faithful determination.)
Wine tasting seems like something best done in the caves of France or while traveling along the winding roads of Napa valley. For some, a computer would never be part of the process and might even be considered blasphemy. But, I have decided that technology was not a negative addition to my two virtual tasting experiences. There is no other way that I would have been exposed to all those knowledgeable wine makers guiding our experience. Tasting the wines side-by-side is the best way to learn more about wines. And, though traveling to wine growing regions is enjoyable, it takes time and money that I do not have at this stage of life.
Should I receive another invitation to take part in a virtual tasting, I will again shove aside the toaster oven and make room for the computer in my dining room. I’ll prepare foods to pair with wine and invite my friends over. The only adjustment I’ll make is adding cab fare for each guest as a parting party favor.

Sometimes you are lucky enough to know that the bite you have just taken was a perfect bite, that all factors have collided to treat you to a flawless tasting experience. I knew it when I bit into the perfectly ripe nectarine I plucked from my father-in-law’s garden in Greece. I stopped immediately to take the above photo and capture the moment visually with the hope that future viewing will help me remember the other sensations.

Peaches and nectarines have long been my favorite fruit, when they are at their prime. Unfortunately, there is only a small window of time when they are just so and when you get a bad one, it is notably disappointing. When I first see the mounds of fuzzy peaches in the stores, I must use all my power to hold back and remind myself of the countless false starts in past years that have disappointed with tasteless, overly hard fruit. And, at the height of the season, when we are just turning over the top of the mountain towards decline, I must except that last, wonderful peach for what it is before I get greedy and end up with a pithy, mealy mess.

When we arrived in Corfu for vacation two weeks ago, the small tree in the front yard was spotted with large, red nectarines. It is a new tree that my in-laws planted last year and it was the first time I had ever seen a peach or nectarine tree bearing fruit. I was warned to wait as the fruit was not quite ready for consumption.

Each morning, I slipped on my flip flops and walked out in my sleepwear to feel the ripening beauties. About three days into our vacation, the hot, Greek sun had performed its magic and a few of the fruits were soft to the touch. Our first sampling revealed white flesh inside with swirls of hot pink. The flavor was as sweet as candy and the juice dripped down our chins. Within days, nearly all the nectarines began ripening at once and I began to panic that we couldn’t eat them fast enough!

In order to make the most of my first tree-plucked nectarines, I vowed to include them at every meal. We diced them over our thick Greek yogurt for breakfast, letting their juice drip off the knife into the bowl as we cut. I ate them after lunch and a few times just walked to the tree to grab a snack.

After about a week, a few fruits had fallen to the ground where worms and bugs invade making the prize inedible. My mother-in-law decided that the time had come to clean off the tree and make nectarine jam. I grabbed one last, soft nectarine from the tree and standing on the porch bathed in golden Greek afternoon light, I took the bite you see above.

All food experiences are touched by factors other than taste. The setting, the company, the occasion, the weather, the rarity of the food, the relationships with the people involved in the food… so many things set the scene. In the case of this perfect bite, I had relaxed into a much needed family vacation on an island so different from my normal habitat. I am always deeply satisfied by harvesting my own food but have never been so fortunate to be near a tree bearing my favorite fruit. The few days of anticipation while the nectarines ripened, the beautiful color of the flesh, the fact that each one was slightly warm from the sun when I ate it, the glorious sweet aroma, and due to the impending jam making, I knew that it was my last nectarine from the tree – all these things converged, heightening my senses and appreciation, creating a perfect bite.

Hello.  I am the dreamer that lives inside Caroline’s head.  I’m always lurking and putting in a good word for the blue sky ideas.  But a few weeks ago, due to various circumstances, I saw an opportunity to shine center stage and I took it.

It had been a difficult few days for Caroline.  Due to some sad news and a heaping workload, Caroline’s emotional manager and reality barometer were taxed and tired.  We attended an event hosted by BlueStar (amazing restaurant-like ranges for the home) featuring Marcus Sameulsson, chef extraordinaire.  He was unveiling a new line of ranges, ‘Inspired by Marcus.’

Caroline started with a few glasses of Prosecco.  Next we began working our way through the passed plates amazed by such delicacies as oysters topped with spring pea foam.

As I mentioned, Caroline was tired and beaten down and I, the dreamer inside her head, had been neglected of late.  With the help of the drinks, the intoxicating food and the relief of having a carefree night out, I pushed my way to the front and took over her consciousness just as Marcus was beginning his presentation.

Well-spoken, world renowned chef Marcus Samuelsson is a handsome chap with a positive vibe.  He took the microphone just a few feet in front of me and began to explain his partnership with BlueStar.  He seems like a down-to-earth guy with a solid foundation and earnest spirit.  I was getting more and more engaged as he explained his philosophy on food and shared stories of his culinary adventures and travels.

Next, Marcus dramatically pulled the white cover off a shiny, new copper range. The Beauty has more BTUs than a home cook could dream of and sexy french oven doors so gorgeous that baked goods would feel as priveledged as guests in a penthouse suite.  At this point, I realized that Marcus was speaking directly to me.

The extraordinary chef explained to me that if this range was in my house, we could produce food that tasted just as good as his.  And, I realized that Caroline should quit her money-making marketing business and just cook.  Oh what dishes could be created with a restaurant-quality range, just the right color of copper!

Fast forward a half hour and I found myself explaining to Marcus and a distributor that I needed that exact range that they just unveiled, especially since it matched my hair.  I confidently tried to bargain with them and find out what it would take to get that copper floor sample into my home the next day.  I agreed to redo my entire kitchen if that exact range was too big to fit where my current stinker of an oven resides.  They all smiled at me, laughed a little….. and did not agree to sell me the range.

Now that Caroline is rested and the more realistic sides of her brain have balanced me into my usual place, she is kind of glad that they wouldn’t sell that range that night.  If they had agreed, I would have whipped out her credit card and she would have been some thousands of dollars poorer with a range that didn’t fit her kitchen.

A few weeks later, I wonder if my grandiose memories of the evening are accurate. Luckily, we have this BlueStar promotional video in which yours truly announces that  ”my 100 year old home was built for that range rather than the range being built for my home.”   Yes, it was clear that I, the dreamer, was running the show that night.  And though the more balanced Caroline is back in charge, she smiles at the memory of the evening and she appreciates that BlueStar and Marcus have served up something special… a new product and marketing cocktail that tickle the dreamer inside home cooks just like me.

WATCH VIDEO HERE – Until I can figure out how to insert it into this post.

I have been wrestling for days to post the video of the lady making homemade phyllo pastries.  I finally got it on YouTube but then my audio was disabled.  Just a little copyright issue I guess.  For those who know the tune, maybe you can imagine it in your head. I had the version of Zorba the Greek from the movie Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels. Now the audio has been replaced by a YouTube royalty free folk tune.  hmmm.  Anyway, the movie is worth a peek to see the lady tossing the fresh phyllo.

The first time I was introduced to this bakery, we waited in line and finally reached the counter to buy our hot, flakey squares of custard filled dream.  Sharp movement caught the corner of my eye and I snuck to the back to see a woman circling massive, thin sheets of dough into the air.  She continued to flop it, wrap it, pat it and fold it until she had a small pie ready for the oven. The phyllo I have always known has zero elasticity while this homemade version is the exact opposite.

I drooled over these custard pastries last year and even gave you a recipe if you want to try making bougatsa at home.  You may use commercial, flat sheets of phyllo pastry.  If you feel brave enough to make homemade phyllo after watching this video, you can find a recipe here.  Good luck!  As for me, I will just keep counting down the days until next summer when I can once again gorge myself on these heavenly pastries.

My aunt changed her career path in the past few years and opened up a boutique in Pella, Iowa. It was an instant hit thanks to her innate knack for merchandising. Her entrepreneurial spirit must have been stimulated because shortly thereafter she launched a gallery next door that carries art from Iowa artists. The final surprise was the addition of a wine room where they began peddling local wines.

This part of the story brings me to Steve, her husband. He is a special guy with a kind demeanor, the unending energy of a toddler, the fix-it skills of a master handyman, the auto know-how of a mechanic, a healthy appetite, a ready laugh and intense love for his town, his country and his family. He is a farm machinery engineer during the week and has become an Iowa sommelier on weekends. And while I am bragging about him, I might as well mention that today is his birthday. Happy Birthday Uncle Steve.

Back to these Iowa wines. The Gallerie of Pella carries three wines exclusively: Cedar Ridge from the Cedar Rapids/Swisher area, Snus Hill from Madrid and La Vida Loca from Indianola, IA. Should life bring you onto Highway 80 passing through Iowa, take a little jaunt down to Pella for a sip. You will find some crisp summer whites, creative infused wine (even jalapeno!), nice red table wines and port served in a dark chocolate cup. Cheers!

Did you know that to give the best thank you hugs sometimes you have to stand on a chair and hug downwards? Try it.

Just one quick trip to 7-Eleven and the damage was done. Somehow a late night desire for something sweet turned into a junk food binge for four food-loving friends. In a quest to please their ladies, the fellas bought all that Hostess had to offer. Regardless of potentially numbed palates from earlier revelry, it all tasted bad. Or rather, it didn’t taste like anything at all. Except sugar. Why does my memory hold Twinkies and white curlycue cupcakes in such high regard? I was so confused by my present day dislike that the next morning I tried another bite, winced and turned away. Tried yet ANOTHER bite, winced and then threw it all in the trash with enough force to qualify as a slight tantrum.

ADVICE: Let Hostess live safely in your memory. Avoid late night 7-11 excursions.

I PROMISE this will be my last post about my Florida vacation last week and then I will get a move on towards more accessible, make-able, bake-able recipes for the majority of you kind visitors. But, how could I NOT share this beautiful photo of my FRESH CATCH?! Just looking at it again revives my titillation from the little nibble nibble on the end of my pole, the reel, the fight and the surprise as your fish breaks the surface.

Now, I must say that I have major respect for the fish of the sea and do not take catching them lightly. I have decided that I must have been a fisherman… or a fish… in a past life. I have a primal draw towards fishing, which makes no sense because nobody in my immediate family even owns a pole.

Our half-day fishing trip on the Gulf of Mexico was planned for the last day of the vacation and I eagerly anticipated it like a 5-year old counting down to Christmas. From the moment we stepped on the boat, I had butterflies in my stomach and the minute I grasped the rod and cast into the deep blue, I was in heaven. I wish I could better explain what it is that gives me such extreme satisfaction and I certainly wish I had the chance to go fishing more than once every few years. It was a treat and the highlight of the week.

EATING FRESH FISH
We heated olive oil in a pan until very hot. We put the fresh filets in a little flour, salt and pepper, shaking the excess off and then fried them up. Topped off with some fresh lemon…. it was amazing. Fish that is just hours out of the water is so insanely different than grocery store fish.

Warm and simple decor, an amazing beer selection, perfectly prepared food and communal seating. These were the keys that opened my doors. As my friend and I burst into laughter, I felt a strangers hand on mine…

“It seems we were seated in the wild corner of the restaurant.”

Into our lives walked new friends with whom we had more real conversations in the first hour than some have after a lifetime. Talk of enchanted New Zealand forests, green rooftops, budding romance… all the while our palates were dancing with delight. She shared one of her oysters. I kept the shell.

This year, I will remember to engage. I will face people without judgement. I will feel happy to be alive. I will seek sensory experiences. I will remember that despite all difficulties and hardships, the world is my oyster and is full of pearls. Happy New Year Friends.

Last Thanksgiving, when we traveled to see my family in Iowa, my sister had arranged for us to go to Reichert’s Dairy Air Farm, run by her friend Lois. It was amazing to see her small goat cheese operation first hand. It was clear that is a true labor of love. (That is Lois in the left who can barely be seen in the photo as she is being smothered by her loving goats).

There is no vacation from milking goats. They need it twice a day during part of the year and if you are sick… too bad, the milk must come out. The goats are like Lois’ children, each with their own personality and habits. If you want to smile, click here, and meet her brood! You will see Doris and her airplane ears and learn how her twin sister, Dorothy, turns her nose up at high quality grain mix.

Because Reichert’s Dairy Air is a small, local farm, you will likely not get a chance to taste her amazing cheeses. (The cranberry pecan chevre is to die for!) But if you happen to be in Des Moines, be sure to keep your eye out at the Farmer’s Market or specialty stores.

There is a new appreciation for sustainable farm and local eating. Lois is truly making it happen with an enormous amount of hard work and even more love.

A goat cheese recipe from my sister’s friend, Holli – Knoxville, Iowa:

Goat Cheese Puff
6 cups milk
12 oz. goat cheese, crumbled
1 cup cornmeal
1 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
2 ½ tsp. salt
2 TBsp. olive oil
½ tsp. cayenne pepper
2 ½ cups thinly sliced leeks
8 egg yolks, lightly beaten, plus 12 egg whites
4 cups finely chopped Swiss chard
1 bunch chives, finely chopped

Position rack in lower third of oven. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 4 qt. sauteuse pan or a deep baking dish works.
In a sauce pan over medium heat, bring milk to a simmer, whisk in cornmeal and 2 tsp. salt. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook, stirring occasionally, 15 – 20 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl; let cool 30 minutes.

In a saucepan over medium heat, warm oil. Add leeks and chard and ½ tsp. salt; cook stirring occasionally, until soft, about 5 minutes. Add to cornmeal mixture, Stir in chives, cheeses, cayenne, and yolks.

Using a mixer fitted with whisk attachment, beat whites until stiff peaks form, about 3 minutes. Fold 1/3 of whites into cornmeal mixture until smooth, then fold in remaining whites. Pour into prepared pan; bake 15 minutes. Reduce oven to 350 degrees; bake puff until golden, 40 -45 minutes more. Serves 8 – 10