Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Friday, September 16, 2011
Mussels and Martinis
Do you remember how I raved about the saucy and sensual garlic shrimp in Oahu's Kahuka region?
While I would gladly fly 5,000 miles to repeat that delightful culinary experience, I have found a similar lusty substitute close to home.
I normally avoid I-95 like the plague, but I would happily drive 40 miles to Fort Lauderdale for some of Timpano's mussels and martinis.
My mouth waters like Pavlov's dog on the northbound journey.
The black mussels arrive on a sizzling cast iron skillet coated in sea salt after being roasted in extra virgin olive oil. As if that wasn't enough, a bit of drawn butter for dipping adds a touch of lusciousness. Crusty bread sits waiting to sop up the juices and you'd swear -- once the skillet cools down and nobody's looking -- that you'd lick it after the bread runs out.
The tender mussels are waiting to be ravished, sitting inside pearly shells, heady with the briny fragrance of the sea. This dish transports me to some wild, rugged seashore.
The martinis are perfection too, generously poured and shaken to a very cool, crisp temperature.
This simple but seductive repast can be enjoyed at table or in the Sinatra bar, which features a lounge area with live jazz. Timpano's is a sophisticated joint, but it's warm and casual enough that you can forego your seafood fork and slurp in all that mussel goodness by hand. After all, no meal is truly sensual without it being a little sloppy.
There are so many textures to this dish -- the hardness of the shells, the softness of the meat, the silkiness of the butter, the coarseness of the salt -- all of this makes it so fun to eat. Go here on a date and if the two of you aren't horny by the end of this dish, you'd better be calling your doctor for some help.
Oh, and the rest of their food is pretty damn good, too. But for me, even just the mussels and martinis are worth the schlep.
Timpano's Chophouse is located on Las Olas Boulevard and offers a great happy hour, Monday - Friday 4 to 7 PM, featuring $5 bar menu and 1/2 off select liquors, wines and bottled beers.
Labels:
booze,
food,
fort lauderdale,
travel
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
A Sexy Scottish Affair, Part 1
A very international experience in Miami, in which I attended a Scotch whisky tasting and a reading from a historical romance novel set in Scotland – all on the same night. Read Part 2 here.
The indefatigable Richard Paterson, master blender for Whyte and Mackay Distillers, Glasgow. We met at Fleming's in Coral Gables earlier this month.
SCOTCH IS DOWNRIGHT SEXY
As the author of Sex and the Beach, I have been to many spirit tastings and liquor events (yes, it’s a terrible job, but someone’s gotta do it), and none have impressed me as much as meeting master blender Richard Paterson from Whyte and Macay Distillers in person to sip glorious spirit from the Scottish highlands.
Blending Scotch whisky is no easy task, requiring a razor sharp, almost bionic sense of smell and a keen understanding of the land where it’s produced – a connection to every grain of barley, ever handful of earthy peat and every drop of fresh river water in Scottish terrain. It is, as I was to learn, a rather sensual profession. Another “tough job” someone has to do and God bless Paterson for that.
Scotch is definitely not a girl drink. Can you imagine Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City ordering a neat scotch instead of a Cosmo? Scotch was the kind of thing Mr. Big would drink. It’s a guy’s drink, your father’s drink, your grandpa's night cap, Mad Men ad exec closing a business deal drink, genteel men excusing themselves for cigars and post-prandials as the ladies go play cards in the parlor room drink.
Or so I thought.
Paterson presented scotch in a way that never occurred to me. We’re used to words like “body” in tastings but I’d never heard “long in the mouth” or “art of swallowing” or “multiple orgasm” anywhere outside of a tantric sex lecture.
Paterson, whose ebullient personality betrays his passion for Scotch, encouraged us to slow down much like a yoga teacher would in this style of drinking.
“Hold it in the mouth for at least 15 seconds,” he recommended. “Taste it a second time as you swallow. We’re all in a hurry. Take time to sip and savor.”
When I asked if Scotch was always enjoyed in such a sensual oral ritual, he replied without hesitation. “No, people used to knock it back like cowboys.”
There’s a legitimate, scientific reason why Scotch shouldn’t be consumed like wham-bam-thank-you-m’am.
In this case, the spirit on our tongues was from The Dalmore, an exclusive single malt produced in a distillery north of Inverness at sea level on the shores of the Firth of Cromarty. This whisky had been sitting in different casks for years, bespoke barrels that in turn, probably held sherry from Spain or bourbon from America for many years prior. A lot of time -- and a very patient, biochemical process -- passed between that grain of barley sprouting from the ground and that golden liquid slinking down my throat.
I wasn't just downing booze. I was taking in history.
Why rush through it?
The metaphors continued in a philosophy that I genuinely liked, because it was so damn sensible. There's something very organic and yummy about it. Just as in life and with people, so with Scotch -- you never want to rush into a relationship.
“I treat whisky just like I would a person,” Paterson said. “I get to know them. I say hello, listen and communicate with them.”
There are sensual receptors in our heads – the mouth, the tongue, the nose and the eyes – all in service of the spirit you’re about to swallow. “The Scotch has an inner world,” he said. “Let it open up.”
When asked if women would make better Scotch drinkers than men, Paterson answered with a decisive yes. “It’s the same as buying perfume. You don’t just accept it right away,” he replied. “You let it sit and get to know it.”
“Women are more apt to listen and pay attention,” he continued. “In fact, women will add less water to Scotch. A man is a pussy compared to a woman.”
This impeccably dressed Scottish gentleman, with such elegant aplomb, had me in stitches when he dropped the "p" word! Good Lord, he’s serious about his Scotch and doesn’t mince his words.
But most of all, it was fun. Paterson suggests you try Scotch as a flavor adventure for the palate, pairing it with chocolate, coffee and crème brûlée for that “multiple orgasm” experience, which he explains rather jovially in the two videos below.
Sorry the video was cut off ... more here.
I don’t know … I think I’d rather drink my dram of Scotch with just a wee drop or two of pure water, but that’s because even food seems like a distraction from something so fine. Anything that tastes so good and simulates a long, drawn out foreplay works well for me.
ABOUT DALMORE
Dalmore is a single malt, which means that it is only blended with other single malts from the same distillery in the Highlands producing Scotch since 1839. Dalmore has stocked some of the rarest Scotch in Scotland, making it high couture of liquor. The Dalmore Trinitas sold for approximately $150,000 including VAT at Harrods in London in 2010.
But you can buy other Dalmore bottles at Total Wine in Fort Lauderdale for far less ranging from $49 to $149 for the 12 year old, Grand Reserva and 18 year old expressions. Other outlets include major South Florida liquor stores and many cool Miami cocktail spots that get a thumbs up from Sex and the Beach: Fleming’s, The Local, Van Dyke, Tobacco Road, Transit Lounge, Soyka, Brickell Irish Pub, Segafredo South Miami, to name a few.
To learn more about Scotch history, pick up a copy of Paterson’s book, Goodness Nose, co-authored with Gavin D. Smith. Paterson is a third-generation Scotch whisky professional, so part of the book focuses on many of the tedious ups and downs of the business over the years. But the book is also a travel memoir; especially seductive are Paterson’s travels through remote Campbeltown in Kintyre and the Isle of Jura. I wanted to book a flight as soon as I closed the back cover of the book.
Next up: read A Sexy Scottish Affair, Part 2. And by the way, Jason Korman over at Gaping Void has some interesting thoughts on Scotch and the marketing industry. Read more at The Market For a Scotch to Believe in Is Infinite.
The indefatigable Richard Paterson, master blender for Whyte and Mackay Distillers, Glasgow. We met at Fleming's in Coral Gables earlier this month.SCOTCH IS DOWNRIGHT SEXY
As the author of Sex and the Beach, I have been to many spirit tastings and liquor events (yes, it’s a terrible job, but someone’s gotta do it), and none have impressed me as much as meeting master blender Richard Paterson from Whyte and Macay Distillers in person to sip glorious spirit from the Scottish highlands.
Blending Scotch whisky is no easy task, requiring a razor sharp, almost bionic sense of smell and a keen understanding of the land where it’s produced – a connection to every grain of barley, ever handful of earthy peat and every drop of fresh river water in Scottish terrain. It is, as I was to learn, a rather sensual profession. Another “tough job” someone has to do and God bless Paterson for that.
Scotch is definitely not a girl drink. Can you imagine Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City ordering a neat scotch instead of a Cosmo? Scotch was the kind of thing Mr. Big would drink. It’s a guy’s drink, your father’s drink, your grandpa's night cap, Mad Men ad exec closing a business deal drink, genteel men excusing themselves for cigars and post-prandials as the ladies go play cards in the parlor room drink.
Or so I thought.
Paterson presented scotch in a way that never occurred to me. We’re used to words like “body” in tastings but I’d never heard “long in the mouth” or “art of swallowing” or “multiple orgasm” anywhere outside of a tantric sex lecture.
Paterson, whose ebullient personality betrays his passion for Scotch, encouraged us to slow down much like a yoga teacher would in this style of drinking.
“Hold it in the mouth for at least 15 seconds,” he recommended. “Taste it a second time as you swallow. We’re all in a hurry. Take time to sip and savor.”
When I asked if Scotch was always enjoyed in such a sensual oral ritual, he replied without hesitation. “No, people used to knock it back like cowboys.”
There’s a legitimate, scientific reason why Scotch shouldn’t be consumed like wham-bam-thank-you-m’am.
In this case, the spirit on our tongues was from The Dalmore, an exclusive single malt produced in a distillery north of Inverness at sea level on the shores of the Firth of Cromarty. This whisky had been sitting in different casks for years, bespoke barrels that in turn, probably held sherry from Spain or bourbon from America for many years prior. A lot of time -- and a very patient, biochemical process -- passed between that grain of barley sprouting from the ground and that golden liquid slinking down my throat.
I wasn't just downing booze. I was taking in history.
Why rush through it?
The metaphors continued in a philosophy that I genuinely liked, because it was so damn sensible. There's something very organic and yummy about it. Just as in life and with people, so with Scotch -- you never want to rush into a relationship.
“I treat whisky just like I would a person,” Paterson said. “I get to know them. I say hello, listen and communicate with them.”
There are sensual receptors in our heads – the mouth, the tongue, the nose and the eyes – all in service of the spirit you’re about to swallow. “The Scotch has an inner world,” he said. “Let it open up.”
When asked if women would make better Scotch drinkers than men, Paterson answered with a decisive yes. “It’s the same as buying perfume. You don’t just accept it right away,” he replied. “You let it sit and get to know it.”
“Women are more apt to listen and pay attention,” he continued. “In fact, women will add less water to Scotch. A man is a pussy compared to a woman.”
This impeccably dressed Scottish gentleman, with such elegant aplomb, had me in stitches when he dropped the "p" word! Good Lord, he’s serious about his Scotch and doesn’t mince his words.
But most of all, it was fun. Paterson suggests you try Scotch as a flavor adventure for the palate, pairing it with chocolate, coffee and crème brûlée for that “multiple orgasm” experience, which he explains rather jovially in the two videos below.
Sorry the video was cut off ... more here.
I don’t know … I think I’d rather drink my dram of Scotch with just a wee drop or two of pure water, but that’s because even food seems like a distraction from something so fine. Anything that tastes so good and simulates a long, drawn out foreplay works well for me.
ABOUT DALMORE
Dalmore is a single malt, which means that it is only blended with other single malts from the same distillery in the Highlands producing Scotch since 1839. Dalmore has stocked some of the rarest Scotch in Scotland, making it high couture of liquor. The Dalmore Trinitas sold for approximately $150,000 including VAT at Harrods in London in 2010.
But you can buy other Dalmore bottles at Total Wine in Fort Lauderdale for far less ranging from $49 to $149 for the 12 year old, Grand Reserva and 18 year old expressions. Other outlets include major South Florida liquor stores and many cool Miami cocktail spots that get a thumbs up from Sex and the Beach: Fleming’s, The Local, Van Dyke, Tobacco Road, Transit Lounge, Soyka, Brickell Irish Pub, Segafredo South Miami, to name a few.
To learn more about Scotch history, pick up a copy of Paterson’s book, Goodness Nose, co-authored with Gavin D. Smith. Paterson is a third-generation Scotch whisky professional, so part of the book focuses on many of the tedious ups and downs of the business over the years. But the book is also a travel memoir; especially seductive are Paterson’s travels through remote Campbeltown in Kintyre and the Isle of Jura. I wanted to book a flight as soon as I closed the back cover of the book.
Next up: read A Sexy Scottish Affair, Part 2. And by the way, Jason Korman over at Gaping Void has some interesting thoughts on Scotch and the marketing industry. Read more at The Market For a Scotch to Believe in Is Infinite.
Monday, February 28, 2011
South Beach Wine and Food Festival, Part 3
The Italian pavilion at the Grand Tasting, which was actually a pretty straightforward assembly line of wine pours with delicious Grana Padano cheese for nibbles.
My second experience of the Food Network South Beach Wine and Food Festival started on Friday morning when it took me one and half hours to drive 15 miles from South Miami to South Beach at 9:30 AM. After securing what was probably the last parking spot at the Anchor Shops garage across from the Loews Hotel, and being nearly rear-ended by an antsy valet driver
(By the way, this is a great municipal parking garage. $16 is the most you'll pay for a 24 hour period. A true South Beach bargain.)
Quiche, mimosas and hobnobbing were on the menu at brunch. It was here I overheard journalists discuss important matters like "are you a true food writer or simply someone who writes who happens to be passionate about food?"
Well, if we're going to ask questions, I also want to ponder: "How can you be a food writer and wear a size zero? You see, food is this stuff you put in your mouth, chew and swallow. You don't eat, girlfriend."
Holding up a sign at the Grand Tasting line. Somebody please put this man out of his misery.
No cattle call ever looked so sunny and bright.
But I digress. From brunch, I traipsed over to the Grand Tasting at Lummus Park, which was open only to trade on Friday. After waiting 40 minutes in line to get our wristbands, friend and fellow writer from South Florida Food and Wine Blog and I proceeded to the gate. Once inside, we would spend three hours on our feet in what I can only call the most glorious "People Watching Festival" I have ever attended -- mobs of people were there and this wasn't even open to the general public! I think every restaurant owner with relatives in Hialeah had entire clans infiltrate the inner sanctum of this gourmet fair.
Bitches were walking around in their mini-skirts and high heels (seriously, on the beach, ladies?), Eurotrash was well represented and the requisite ass models in boy shorts were giving out booze samples. Ah yes, it was South Beach all right ... all the sex and none of the sophistication.
The mob of wine and food enthusiasts. At closing time, a voice over a loud speaker repeated: "stop pouring now." I kept hearing: "stop whoring now."
No South Beach event would be complete without the selling power of pussy.
And behold: there wasn't much food at the Grand Tasting at all, and what little there was, required a ten to fifteen minute wait in line for a small sample.
No, no. This wasn't about food. This was about wine and booze. By closing time at 4 PM, most folks were rip-roarin' tipsy, because those thimble-full alcohol samples really do add up. This reminded me of the Gasparilla pirate festival, where frat boys were wasted by 11 am, but minus the bead flinging and police arrests.
This vodka was actually pretty good. It's made in Central Florida from 4 different varieties of Florida oranges. I tried some neat. It was not as sickeningly sweet as other citrus flavored vodkas.
Refreshing prosecco. Probably my favorite pour of the day, besides cold Amstel (yes, beer!) which is about all I could tolerate under the hot tent.
The Grand Tasting is a true tribute to Bacchus for the masses, where sampling a bazillion different wines isn't really going to teach you anything about being an enophile. Come on, folks! You cannot appreciate anything in large doses. Discreet tastings of food and drink, spread out over time, is the only way to educate your palate.
The grapevine of seasoned journalists who were festival veterans informed me that the event would be doubly insane over the weekend. Scalpers abound, people try to bum wristbands from strangers at the gate and security is on hand to pick up the lightweights puking and passing out. Geez, I'm so sorry I went on the more "civilized" trade day and missed all that.
Two ladies getting their tan on at the South Beach Wine, Food, People Watching and Tanning Festival.
Arugula and duck salad was one of the few samples of food I saw at the event. Mind you, that doesn't mean food wasn't there, but it was so crowded, it was hard to spot.
So what to expect if you are a layperson: lots of wine, lots of waiting, lots of bumping into strangers, not so much food and fantastic people watching.
There is, of course, much more to the festival than the Grand Tasting bacchanalia and geeze, if the PR companies had been open to including more local writers, I might have been able to pen some stories about those worthy events, too. But word from the grapevine was that press passes were as tight as Madonna's ass.
As my friend put it: "If you really want to learn, go to the seminars and tastings and know that your contributions are helping Florida International University's hospitality and tourism program."
And this I did, right after, with my sand-coated feet dog tired after walking around for three hours. A small, cozy wine and cheese event at the roof deck of the Betsy Hotel was just what the doctor ordered and that kind of investment of money and time is what I would recommend to anyone interested in attending next year. If you want to gormandize, don't do fast food -- do so wisely and elegantly. Avoid this cattle call.
SEE IT ALL IN A GROOVY MONTAGE
P.S.
I don't know what it was about this weekend that turned everyone into an animal on the streets of South Beach. By the time I left around 7:30 PM, it was bumper to bumper everywhere and people were driving as if they were jonesing for crack. I have never seen South Beach like this, not even during Boat Show or Memorial Day weekend! Other South Beach residents corroborated my observations. Foodies are crazy!
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Labels:
booze,
food,
south beach,
south beach food and wine festival