The Muse What a fantastic name for a cocktail! The Muse is the second of three visits to Cognac from French Trinity. When bartenders take inspiration from a cocktail, its sometimes referred to “a nod” or “a wink” to the forefather. With that, The Muse owes some gesture to Charles H. Baker’s, Remember the Maine.

The Remember the Maine is a drink from The Gentleman’s Companion: An Exotic Drinking Book. Written by Charles Baker in 1939, the book, and the author, are cherished and studied by cocktail academics and aficionados.

Baker was a gifted writer and prolific traveler. He was basically Bourdain before Bourdain. The Gentleman’s Companion was a series of tales and recipes from his global drinking exploits. Below is his account of Remember the Maine.

"A hazy memory of a night in Havana during the unpleasantness of 1933, when each swallow was punctuated with bombs going off on the Prado, or the sound of 3″ shells being fired at the Hotel NACIONAL, then haven for certain anti-revolutionary officers"

The unpleasantness of 1933 refers to a coupe of Cuban President Gerardo Mechado. After successfully taking out the President, he eventually rose the ranks and later appointed himself to presidency. The USS Maine sank in the Havana Harbor in 1898 after an explosion. There are contrarian accounts as to whether the boat was bombed or imploded by accident.

The Monarch as a Manhattan replacement is easy to conceptualize. Sub cognac for bourbon (or better still, rye). The vermouth role is played by Bonal Quinquina. Bitters, orange bitters.

Yanni Goes in With Bonal

When guests survey our cocktail list, one of the most common questions is, "What is Quinquina?" Except they pronounce it phonetically, and its actually pronounced "keen-keena".  

Quinquina is a generic term the French use to describe quinine-based bitters or apertifs. Quinine comes from the bark of cinchona trees in the Andes Mountains of Chile and Peru.  

Bonal is made of grape must, bark, gentian (a floral tonic) and the famed herbs of Chartreuse; the blend was introduced in 1865 by a monk named Hippolyte Bonal. It would be unfair to sum up quinquina as, "like vermouth." It is serious and contemplative. Though technically an apertif, Bonal has enough richness -and certainly bitterness- to get a pass for after dinner. Served neat (and a slight chill) or with a twist are both enjoyable methods.

* This post also contains audio podcast. If you would like to listen to the podcast, you can simply click here. Please enjoy!

Though its almost over, October is, and was, Salmon Month. On the 13th of this  month, Nopa participated in an inaugural citywide benefit, “Dine Out for Wild Salmon”. The night was organized by the Salmon Aid Foundation. The deal was, we'd feature wild salmon on our menu for the evening. All of the profits from each salmon dish were donated to the Foundation. I am happy to say that Nopa sold enough Wild California King Salmon that night to contribute $925 to the cause.  

I did a bit of research on the organization and became increasingly impressed by their mission and breadth. This had been solidified earlier in the evening when Marie Logan, Co-President of the Foundation, joined us for our nightly lineup to talk salmon. That talk informed us on the perils facing Wild Salmon in California. 

Her talk was succinct and informative, but I gathered from her demeanor that at her core, Marie was an activist. I really liked her and asked her to do a podcast with us. She obliged and suggested that we invite Kenny Belov, Entrepreneur and California's superhero in the fight for sustainable fishing. He is Co-Founder and partner of Two X Sea, a sustainable fish purveyor. He also (surprisingly) raises trout with an algae/flax rich diet, a feed he developed himself.  He is quite busy and as we’ll hear, is growing increasingly so as his fight and accounts gain momentum.

Kenny Belov

I don’t want to go into too much detail about the Salmon Aid Foundation-- its a pretty focal point in the podcast. But  if you're looking for some context, it is essentially a multi-stakeholder organization of consumer groups, activists, Native Americans and recreational fishing groups bound by a shared mission to defend California’s wild salmon population.

Marie also works in the Fish department of Food & Water Watch, which is a national nonprofit that challenges corporate control of food and water resources. They have a fantastic mission, which reads as follows: 

Mission 

Food & Water Watch works to ensure the food, water and fish we consume is safe, accessible and sustainably produced. So we can all enjoy and trust in what we eat and drink, we help people take charge of where their food comes from, keep clean, affordable, public tap water flowing freely to our homes, protect the environmental quality of oceans, force government to do its job protecting citizens, and educate about the importance of keeping the global commons — our shared resources — under public control.

I decided first to post the podcast in its entirety, then break up the conversation into 3 more digestible sizes for the subsequent days of the week. I can not emphasize enough how much inspiration I find in my work when meeting Maries and Kennys. Kenny Belov is a man singularly focused on providing information and solutions to advance the health of our oceans and population. Every decision that he makes, and each conversation he is in, is rooted in the same place- an impassioned belief that reckless commercial fishing is destroying our oceans.

The aforementioned feed that he has developed for his trout at MacFarland Springs has the potential to completely revolutionize the fishing industry in this country. If for no other reason, I would strongly recommend a listen to the podcast to learn more about this. It is truly astonishing. 

Marie is the same. Her activism is rooted in her time at UC Berkeley where she studied environmental history. She honed in on Latin America where severe examples of corporate/government exploitation of natural resources, led her to a path of fighting back as a matter of social justice. She is organized and academic, but feisty. She is my kind of lady.

At the end of our conversation, I gave an open mic. She takes the opportunity to go in on a topic  in which she is clearly growing more active, which is raising awareness ofthe emerging threat of genetically modified foods, and our rights to know as consumers. Again, we hope that you all will take some time to listen to what she has to say about some of the existing and prospective policies on this front. It feels like this will be the next new battleground for food activists. Some really freaky stuff happening in labs....

Marie Logan

For Nopa, I feel strongly that it is not enough for us to be content simply asserting that we know our food sources. More importantly, we must cultivate a genuine understanding of the food sources for ourselves and our diners. This includes information about the producers, handlers, and the political, environmental and social factors that affect our access to these foods.

Is the restaurant an appropriate place for inciting these conversations? I think yes. If we take on the responsibility of committing to purveyors who are dedicating their lives to affecting change, then we must take that commitment seriously and do our part. Of course many diners come in simply to enjoy a meal and a beverage and sometimes crave nothing more. That is certainly okay. But we also know that there are an increasing number of diners who do want more, and whose minds are fertile and curious, and we want to do our part to provide many ways to nourish the curiosity. If you enjoy this podcast, please share with others or contact the Salmon Aid Foundation, Food & Water Watch or Nopa to find out how you can be involved. We hope you enjoy!

Yesterday, I waxed on about the earthy delights of pu-erh tea. You can read about it here. In this post, I take the easy route, making analogies between wine and pu-erh, and also offer tasting notes.

As we tasted, at some point the dialog predictably shifted to wine--not surprising as pu-erh is undoubtedly the wine of the tea world. It improves with age and most of those we tasted were allowed a few years to age. Discs of 60 year old pu-erh has bee sold for up to $30,000 each. This is perhaps only exceeded in ludicrousness of say, I dunno... a $117,000 bottle of Château d'Yquem. Rich man toys aside, Ned stated simply, " we look for teas with character". It was a simple statement, but exactly the criteria I use to asses the quality of wine. For some reason, this struck me in a profound way.

Interestingly, almost all of the pu-erhs benefited greatly from multiple steeps. It is counterintuitive and remarkable. The more you steep, the more the tightly bound leaves begin to open up and release their savory, earthy layers. The profile evolves with each steeping. This reminds me of how I love drinking Barbaresco. It is best enjoyed after being emptied and swirled into a decanter and served in Burgundy bowl stemware with lots of surface area. This exposure to air coaxes the nebbiolo into a series of aromatic adventures that unfold over the course of a meal. The same is true with each steeping; each time a new story.

Pu-erh Production

Pu-erh tea is made from the strain of Camellia Sinensis called Dayeh, a large-leaf varietal Pu-erh comes from the Yunnan region in Southeastern China, near the Cambodian/Vietnam border. There are two approaches in pu-erh production: raw or ripened. The former, known as "sheng cha" has its color and character induced through sun exposure and subsequent beneficial oxidation. The latter, "shu cha", is fermented pu-erh. As is often the case with fermented things, the so called "ripened" pu-erhs get their complex character through this process.

Green Pu-erh is made with little, if any, oxidation. These looked like miniature bales of straw with pieces of grass strewn intermittently. These teas are made with leaves picked from trees, often times from the mountains, and in some cases more than 200,000 years old. For the really fine ones, just like grapes, the leaves are sorted by hand. The leaves are then dried, traditionally with sunlight, until most of the moisture is gone. They are then sorted again and given a grade (1-10 based on the quality of their leaves. After the second sorting the leaves are steamed and pressed into aforementioned discs or bricks. These can then be cellared to improve with age.

Part of the processing may involve chopping these leaves into proportionate sizes. This is more user friendly in that the flavors are drawn out faster and the small, twig-like cuts of the leaves ensure an even steeping. I made me think of how chopping fresh herbs, or even dried herbs, are more intense than whole bunches.

The shu (ripened or cooked) chas were predictably dark. Of those we tasted my favorites were those that came in those little gift wrapped discs. Though they look like black teas, I think they are technically green teas. Ned used the words black tea for the "shus" made it seem like the words were interchangeable. Below, my tasting notes and impressions from our afternoon of pu-erh.

King of Pu-erh 2010, Organic, Rough Cut Black

This was for real. It was rich and full and one of the ones I thought benefited most from the second steeping. While we were drinking this, I saw Ned shake the tea leaves after the first steep which made me realize that these teas do benefit from a little bit of agitation. It was full and clean with a little earth, but I have the feeling we could've kept steeping and I would've grown more fond.

Black River Mountain (Hei He Shan)

This was our undisputed, consensus favorite. It is a fermented high mountain tea that had more character than anything we'd tasted. It was robust and smelled of wet black soil. It would be a perfect match for dessert and after steeping, turns into a really beautiful little ball of wispy, shimmering obsidian leaves and stems. I absolutely love this and could drink it every day of my life.

Small Leaf Pu-erh, Organic

This has the sweetest nose of the bunch, showing notes of sweet cocoa and again coffee. Unlike the Black River Mountain, this didn't just have the smell of coffee, this actually looked like coffee after brewing. It was exactly like drinking a decaf coffee, which I found fascinating.

Yong De Mao Cha 

This raw pu-erh was one of the ones that were processed and cut into little half inch stems. It was harvested in 2007 and had its fermentation halted by some time in the sun. It had the strongest citrus character and smelled of chalk, smoke and orange peel.

Menghai Classic Ripe Brick

According to Ned, Menghai is a house that is well known for their very high standards of quality. I loved this. It was somewhere close to the strong wet earth of the Black River Mountain, but also had an underlying dark chocolate thing that was really cool. This is one that I would like to revisit after several steeps.

Yesterday was pretty awesome. I popped in to Nopa to upload video from the Flipcam to our hard drive. I was making space for our tasting with Tom Bulleit on Thursday. I was surprised to see Xandre there too since it was his day off. I soon discovered he had an appointment with our tea purveyor to taste tea along with Brooke and Chris.  The discussion of adding (or rather, reviving) pu-erh tea on our list has been ongoing for some time now. I decided to lay off the media for a second and have some pu-erh. 

Pu-erh, pronounced (Poo-Air) is a Chinese tea that develops its unique character through oxidization, maturation and in some cases fermentation. Like obscure wine grapes, heirloom produce, shade-grown coffee, mescal and the like, Pu-erh’s emergence in recent years coincides with the broader trend in American gastronomy of seeking out products of intention and attention.  Increasingly buyers are looking for quality artisanal goods that offer a strong sense of place, and in which production decisions are influenced by holistic considerations on matters of environmental health and cultural/geographic identity. I believe the genesis of this movement can be almost entirely credited to the local food renaissance. Discovering these products like pu-erh and making them accessible to Nopa patrons brings me immense joy. I feel a strong subsequent obligation to use the platform to push the movement forward. 

Silk Roads Teas Owner, Ned Heagerty

Most of our teas from Silk Road overlap the organic/terrior/artisan criteria, but pu-erh is definitely its own thing. Drinking pu-erh is a bit like diving head first into a freezing cold lake. It takes some getting used to, but as you adjust to the temperature, discomfort makes way for exhilaration. Their nature is pungent one. They are robust teas, full-flavored, and often smell and taste of dirt, manure, barnyard or perhaps a zoo. The oddity of beverage dorks is that we are inexplicably turned on by these smells in our drinks.

The best way I can explain it is a connection to the earth. It is one thing to smell black soil when you are potting a plant or walking in wilderness, but it is a completely different trip, and ultimately appreciation, when something smells and tastes of the earth that is merely an expression rather than the physical. Fermented beverages are living beings with microbes, cells, active yeasts, and oxygen all playing a role in the development of this, “earthiness”. Eating dirt is not good, but drinking things that are evocative of dirt is really fascinating. Once you move past the initial funk, these teas are incredibly complex. They offer other less offensive layers of smoke, wood, hay, grass, bamboo, spinach and in some cases even citrus. They are distinctive and pronounced smells of the earth and this is what is meant when people talk favorably of earthiness in food and drink.

Tomorrow in Part 2, we will explore this earthy realm and I will share more on pu-erh production and my tasting notes--including the winner which will soon make a cameo on our dessert list!  

Scheurebe Podcast: Click Here

One of my favorite parts about working at Nopa is the opportunity to work with and learn from immensely intelligent people who are dedicated to their craft. For us, that often means the study of artisan food and beverages. Among the top of the list, I would name Wine Director, Chris Deegan. For those that are familiar with the Nopa format, every quarter or so, our wine list undergoes a metamorphosis, which we simply call a “Feature”. The Feature is exactly as it sounds, an educational profile of a particular producer, region or grape.  

In theory this is a straightforward concept that allows both staff and guests to read a few lines in a red box and learn about some wine. It's cool. But since Chris Deegan is the one behind the feature, it becomes a vibrant and compelling homage to wine that is so well written that it awakens the inner wine geek in us all.  

Last month, Chris had an opportunity to travel to Germany (and Austria) on a trip led by famed importers Michael Skurnik and Therry Theise. We all predicted that our next feature would draw from that trip.  While we all braced for a Riesling or uber-site/soil specific Feature, in true Deegan fashion, he returns with a Feature on a grape that you will probably never see so well represented in sequence on a winelist again—Scheurebe.

Scheurebe, celebrating its 95th anniversary as a grape, is best approached as a relative to Riesling. It was long thought to be a genetic cross of Riesling and Silvaner, though recent DNA testing has shown otherwise. In my opinion, these wines share a quality of winter citrus (blood orange and grapefruit in particular, but well seasoned with interesting spice that as Chris says makes it pleasing to drink and capable of being enjoyed or evoking conversation).

 As a wine enthusiast and as a person who simply enjoys learning from people who are genuinely knowledgeable and passionate about a particular subject, it was a pleasure to have this conversation with Chris. We wanted to share this passion with you via podcast and hope that it was captured in someway. As the caveat says at the beginning, it is not a perfect recording (Deegan speaks into the mic, while I interview from behind it), but we do hope to refine and continue these podcasts to introduce you to the many gifted magicians who work in concert in make Nopa such a special place. If you have 25 minutes to learn about Scheurebe, you wont regret it! Then come in and taste and draw your own conclusions!

Welcome to Part 2 of the 2009 Beaujolais retrospective.  Below is a profile of three of the wines from this vintage that have granted me a new respect for the year, and offered yet another reminder on the importance of bottle maturation. If you need a primer, check out Part 1 here. Enjoy!

2009 Thévenet Grain & Granite Régnié

People who are super into wine read both sides of the label. That's because for non-domestic wines there are essentially two conspirators; an artist (winemaker) and curator (importer). One of the names/logos on the back side of the label that is met with greatest enthusiasm is Kermit Lynch. His name is an especially familiar one in the Bay Area as he took a little wine shop in Berkeley into headquarters for one of the most important import/ distribution houses we've ever seen. His portfolio is predominately family-owned French estates and boutique cellars that make wine with little manipulation and lots of attention. The Grain and Granite from Régnié is a Kermit prototype.

Charly Thévenet is the son of famed Beaujolais producer Jean Paul Thévenet. He is 28 years old and owns about 7 acres of 80-year-old Gamay vines in Régnié, just north of Lyon, and southwest of his hometown of Morgon. The vineyard is planted with only gamay, all of which is farmed biodynamically and finds it way in the Grain & Granit. It's actually quite rare to have a producer focus all of their efforts into a single bottling. I find it to be ambitious and a refreshing evaluation of a winemakers vision. 

This was one of the first wines I tasted from '09 and I actually was really into it. It wasn't explosive, but was really well made and balanced. As a habitual wine personifier, I identify this wine as one that is more pretty than hot-that is to say really attractive but not frivolous. It has a beautiful color, a light sort of purplely obsidian. The nose is honest-blueberries, soft spice, flowers and mineral. This theme pretty much continues on the palate, a lean frame that shows elegant tannin and perfectly countered acid. I really like it a lot, though I have to admit it did go through dull moments in recent months and got me on the whole kick of overrating the vintage. But, that said, it is a poster child for old vines farmed biodynamically. They have soul. They require a careful ear and reward those who lend it. 

2009 Domaine du Vissoux Pierre-Marie Chermette Les Garants Fleurie 

This was the most impressive wine of the bunch. I can say this with conviction, although this was one of the primary offenders of the "merely positive" reaction to 2009. The Cru of Fluerie is not known for being super ageworthy, in fact, the best examples of these wines I've had were in the 3-5 year range. However the Fluerie from Pierre-Marie Chermette is in another sphere of ageworthiness, which I think contributed to us getting off on the wrong foot. I had an expectation of where I thought the wine would be at this stage. I imagined a painting that was almost complete, but instead I was left with only suggestions of a finished piece. It was like a protective veil lifted only enough to work me into frenzy in anticipation of an exhibition. I was taunted by flashes of these hues of silky, dark fruit. It was so vivid, yet definitely not complete. Eventually I decided imposing my own ideas on the wine was more a function of my own flaws than that of the wine. 

 Like Thévenet, Pierre Chermette and his wife Martine are Beaujolais pioneers in their own right. Pierre graduated with an oenology degree from Dijon in 1980. Shortly afterwards, he and Martine, who was a business grad, purchased quartz rich plots in the Crus of Brouilly, Moulin-A-Vent, and Fluerie. They were early adopters of natural winemaking, foregoing the use of sulfites and using indigenous yeast from the grape skins to start fermentation.  They also go without filtering, a decision that affords this particular wine an outstanding coat and texture.  Perhaps most noteworthy in this wine is the single vineyard, Les Garants, which Importer Peter Weygandt calls the  Romanée-Conti of Beaujolais. High praise, but after tasting it, hard to argue against. This wine benefits from a bit of air, which was made apparent after a revisit post dinner service (open 8 hours) exposed new layers of really pretty floral notes. So if you order it when you come in, we'll decant for you!

2009 Piron Lameloise Chenas Quartz 

Given the reaction at this weeks tasting, this wine did the most to undermine my 2009 revival thesis. It's not as if this wine isn't really good, because it is, but the Nopalese reacted much in the same way I did when tasting the 09's for the first time--perfectly satisfied, but left wanting a little more. But I actually like this wine, so we will carry on with the theme here. Inexplicably, it is last wine featured in this piece, though it is definitely the lightest of the three. And the charm of the wine is in that lightness. The clear bright ruby color is irresistible. It is lean and nimble, loaded with minerality (pretty intense suggestive advertising on the bottle and name), raspberries and bright, clean acid that makes it versatile and an easy accompaniment to almost anything on our menu.   

Finally gotta give a shout out to one of my favorite Beaujolais on our list, Domaine Cheysson's, Clos Les Farges  from Chrioubles. (If Fleurie is the prettiest of the Crus to pronounce, Chiroubles definitely is the most fun. Sher-uuub!!) It is so elegant; has a perfect medium frame, refined fruit and very gently spiced. I've probably opened 100 of these half bottles in my time at Nopa, and I am continually impressed with this wine.

Last Friday, mega sommelier/author Raj Parr came in late night for dinner. Since this has been on the brain for me, naturally our conversation shifted in the Cru Beaujolais direction. He ended up drinking a Brouilly from 2009. (Also drank insanely delicious Moreau Chablis from 2008, one of my aforementioned recent favorite vintages from Part 1 of this piece) His overall assessment of the vintage was that it was promiscuous--an easy one to get, but still offering a really high pleasure point. I followed the analogy. But then he drops something that elicited a very wide grin.  "But wait til you taste the 2010's. They are even better!" And so it begins again. This is why I love the sport.  

2009 Beaujolais. People couldn't get enough of it. Jancis Robinson, whose wine opinion I value more than any other on the planet, called 2009 "The Year of Beaujolais". Countless other writers and critics were early adopters compounding the fervor of the vintage.

If the title of this post makes no sense to you, I will quickly provide a diatribe on perceived wine snobbery and the important nature of the year on a bottle. People who are not wine people are always quick to mock when talking about "vintage". They often use the word with a sarcastic tone, in a self-deprecating defense mechanism to compensate for not knowing much about a subject closely identified with refinement and exposure. Please don't be like this! Maybe we as wine professionals should just start calling vintages, "years", or better still, "birthdays" to offer better context. After all, we are very sensitive about our own birthdays and make many strong declarations and develop strong associations with our identities based on it. Anyway, the point is, in wine, it matters too.

Okay. So now that I've just ranted about the importance of vintage, I will subtly undermine what I've just said. To clarify, vintage is immensely important, but it is not the single most important factor in producing fine wine. A popular and justifiable adage in the wine world is "good winemakers make good wines in bad vintages." Indeed farming practices and technical knowledge in the cellar will always separate the elite. Along the same line, when blessed with a great vintage, great winemakers produce wines to be studied for decades. This is why collectors and enthusiasts get so worked up about wine. That is the whole sport really. Identify the years that Mother Nature has blessed (or stressed) a particular region and the people who have dedicated their lives to coaxing that into the bottle. 

Not quite a year ago, our wine director, Chris Deegan organized one of the most straight forward, but awesome categories I've ever seen on a list: The Crus of Beaujolais. Beaujolais is a village in France wedged between Burgundy and Rhone. Here there have been accounts of wine since the Benedictine monks in the 7th Century. They produce a massive amount of wine, most of which is a fruity and homogenous expression of the gamay grape. But there is another category of Beaujolais, Cru Beaujolais, which is really the only Beaujolais that garners the attention of the Jancis Robinson's of the world. It is situated in the Northern part of the region where serious producers plant gamay on granite rich hillsides.  

My early impressions of the vintage were positive. Obviously. But I distinctly recall feeling somehow swindled with all of the hype surrounding the vintage. Other recent vintages with this amount of fanfare came out of the box swinging. 2005 Bordeaux (or Burgundy for that matter) and 2008 Chablis are two of my recent favorites that come to mind. But the 09s from Beaujolais were merely...good. Not really what you want from the region that was awarded an entire year. For the most part, I kept my opinion to myself. I thought maybe my expectations were too high and I was learning to recalibrate so that I could actually begin to enjoy the wines. Even still,  I was timid in recommending these wines, as I couldn't conquer the discrepancy between the acclaimed year and my own enthusiasm (or lack thereof) towards them. 

After months of swimming laps in a pool of pinot noir (Diners always throw me in here, and I often try to hop out--not because I don't like it, but there are so many other wonderful directions for pinot lovers), I decided it was time to go back to the obviously good (but not great) 2009s from Beaujolais. The Cru of Chenas was the first foray back in. I remembered the 2007 from our late autumn feature, and this was clearly spunkier. It was the fruit. It was all bright and clean and distinctive. It hit me. This is what the 2009 was. This is where the excitement was coming from. Ripeness! 

It was the beginning of my rediscovery of the famed vintage. That was 2 months ago and I have been enjoying every drop of these wines in this time. Last week I decided that I would share my road to recovery for our weekly wine class. In part two of this article, I will share a profile and impressions of three of the wines from our tasting.

For self proclaimed activists or at least participants in the local food movement, this was very cool. Xandre was giddy. I was too, actually. It was a weird feeling to be in awe of someone in the same way you'd be in awe of a favorite athlete or musician, only to realize the subject is a soft spoken (though outspoken) academic in their mid fifties. But that's Michael Pollan. No one else has managed to capture so succintly and in such a compelling manner the importance of local agriculture, thoughtful criticism of agribusiness, and practical nutrition to advance the health of human and food system. He's taught us about where our food comes from (Omnivores Dilemma) and how to use our diet to affect political change (In Defense of Food).   

I assume that he never expected his role to shift from author/academic to activist, but like Alice Waters, when smart, influential people take on complex social issues, they are anointed as leaders. And, again, like Alice Waters, he has taken on this role with a great deal of responsibility and care, fully leveraging it to affect positive change, organize leaders and spread awareness. 

He ate rotisserie herbed chicken with eggplant caponata and potatoes, and he seemed really into it. In retrospect, he lives in the Bay Area, so it wasn't totally unfeasible to imagine him having dinner here, but the inordinate level of joy we got from his presence was surprising. As we continue to collectively push ourselves and look for new ways to play a role in sharing his message, it was a gratifying and exciting sign that we are on the right path. 

The importance of olives and the olive tree date back thousands of years. From countless biblical references to ancient Greece, the olive tree has stood as a symbol of joy, abundance and victory; the leafy branches being used as crowns for the victors of games and war. The Roman poet Horace references the importance of olives in his diet at around 30 BC and the Koran regards it as an extremely valuable fruit. 

A few days ago at NOPA, we switched our source of olives to Northern Californian Old Groves, operating under the name Good Faith Farm. Currently we get Kalamata, Lucques and Sevillano olives. I spoke with Todd, the founder, this morning about his process and vision. Incredibly knowledgeable, passionate and dedicated, Todd has been farming organically for most of his life. He's 62 years old, but intensely energetic. His roots are in the 1960s environmental movements, but it is also his own curiosity which propels him into new territory. He believes that food carries consciousness and runs his farm as reinforcement of this belief. Six years ago, Todd and his wife moved from San Diego to Northern California, where he immediately stopped eating olives. The salt bothered him and his wife; they tasted "dead" and he realized that all the olives which claimed to be raw, were usually not. 

Todd began to grow his own olives four years ago, partly so he could eat the olives he wanted to eat, and partly because it needed to be done.  In his first year he claims to have made "every possible mistake," leaving him with no other choice then to realize his vision and make it work. His wife watched him struggle and was surprised to hear him confidently proclaim that he was ready to go after 12 months. He began selling his olives to local health food stores and slowly grew from there. He oversees twenty-one acres of certified organic orchards. He also works with transitional farms, meaning they are not yet certified organic, but taking the necessary steps to become so. This is exciting to me because it doesn't draw the line at certification and instead nurtures a farmer's intentions. Organic certification is a three year process and without support, some farmers can't absorb all the costs and eventually go back to conventional farming. Proximity is also key here. Todd knows the operations of each farmer intimately; he knows the microclimates, the smell in the air, every element that's added to the soil… His criteria for any farm he deals with is rigorous and being close to the farms ensures that he can oversee their procedures at any time. When you call Good Faith, it's usually Todd that answers the phone; a testament to the way he runs his business.

Todd is fiercely particular over what defines an olive as raw. Is it shelf stable? Then isn't raw. If the olives are heated beyond 105 degrees, then precious enzymes and amino acids are killed. It might be shelf stable at this point, but it's also devoid of life. Without lye treatments, flash pasteurization and chemical additives the olives are actively raw - they are the original probiotic, sitting on the center of the table for families for thousands of years. Todd is electrified as he talks about his olives in comparison to anything else you can find in California right now. 

The quality of salt is also paramount. It is commonplace to make use of the cheapest salt possible - solar salts, which are kiln dried at temperatures exceeding 400 degrees, drastically changing the natural state and killing all trace minerals. Todd currently uses Real Salt, which is taken from a huge rock salt deposit near Redmond, Utah.  The salt from here is pure, with no chemical additives (which most commonly are Silico Aluminate, Potassium Iodide, Tri-calcium phosphate, magnesium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate). Todd insists that this salt is softer on the olives and compliments the other elements of the process. We're really excited to be working with Todd and Good Faith Farms.

Keep an eye out for the olives on our menu - they're always the first item on the left side and today you'll also find them in our tomato salad with garlic croutons, balsamic and crescenza. 

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of interviewing Brian Barneclo.  I've wanted this interview for sometime now as I've been a fan of his long before we ever met. Like many of you, my first introduction to his work was the vibrant mural he did for Nopa. And since half of my waking hours are in the presence of his work, this affinity is a good thing. It is such an essential part of the feeling of the restaurant, that an interview with Brian felt important to capture. 

The coolest thing about this podcast is undoubtedly the timing. Though I am relatively new to San Francisco, I can sense that the demand for Brian's work, and his profile as an artist has increased in recent years. In this interview, Brian was just one week removed from his most ambitious artistic endeavor to date, which culminated in the largest mural in San Francisco.

Brian's story of finding inspiration in San Francisco after migrating from a mundane life in suburban Indianapolis is a familiar tale. San Francisco has brought it out of so many. You can tell the light bulbs have always been there, but it took the city to turn them on. And they are way on. His aura is so unmistakably artistic, he would never need an introduction as such--you can just tell. He is self-aware, honest and a generally cool dude. His tone in the interview is surprisingly optimistic and at times straight up motivational. Not neccesarily what I expected from the hip-hop/skateboarding muralist ilk, but it is completly authentic and endearding. It feels as if he is speaking directly to artists as he impassionately speaks about challenging yourself and pursuing greatness. 

One of my favorite moments of the podcast is when he stresses the importance of always remaining an emerging artist. "As you become an established artist, it becomes dangerous." From the carefree freestyle mural at Nopa, to the largest mural in San Francisco, it has been a good run for Brian. Catching him riding the wave of such a triumphant project was gratifying. Given his sneaky ambition and evolving catalog, my mind immediately travels 5 years down the road, wondering what projects he will be tackling then, and where this one fits in. We are excited to watch it unfold. We hope you enjoy the 2 part interview with Brian Barneclo. 

PART 1: Listen Here

PART 2: Listen Here

55-65 Million years. That’s an estimate on the age of vitis vinifera, the grape vine that produces wine. My friend Greg Mu once told me that all plants aspire to be grape vines. It is not an intuitive thought, but the more I considered it, I think he was right.

They are a resourceful, beautiful and resilient force of nature. Their roots grasp several feet in the soil through ancient mineral in a  decisive pursuit of water. They shed fruit and leaves in the winter,  obediently conforming to the rigor of the season.They return with renewed grace and begin the exercise again the following year. Vines play nice when cultivated by man yet when left alone, explore terrain with exuberance and without limitation. I am obsessed!

Moving to Northern California has restored my awe of the mighty vine. Several trips to vineyards this summer and my new home have sent me on a quest for the origins. Not just with grapes, but in all things ag. Lately I am compelled to reach back. Train my thinking in the old ways and looking for ancient wisdom.

Reading more about the history of wine is helping me understandnd the modern wine trade. The story lines are in many ways predictable (religion, persecution, commerce, greed, karma—ie, phylloxera, etc), but no less exciting. Here’s the beginning of a few long-form posts on this history….

Nearly 7,000 years ago there were vines planted in Mesopotamia. Knowledge of viticulture was first expanded under the Pharaohs in Egypt. They got down on wine for celebrations, religion and pleasure. Kind of amazing to think that this is still pretty much true today.

Then, Greece happened. They planted tons of vineyards in the latter half other 2nd Millennium, BC. Separate accounts suggest the passage of vineyard knowledge was from Eurasia, though it seems likely that the Greeks went straight to the Egyptians for, ah-hem, the dirt on vines. Especially since there was soon after an economic relationship between the two countries.

And these people were drinking the juice! Wine cults were formed. Dionysus was the Greek God of wine, madness and ecstasy. My kinda God. The Romans adopted Dionysus as Bacchus, with predictably similar values. Bacchus was said to absolve man of his mundane daily ritual and perform miracles like making wine, milk and honey erupt from the ground.

Understandably, the Greeks tried to follow suit in performing such miracles and spread viticulture to their colonies in Southern Italy and France. Southern Italy become known as “Wine Land”, or under the subsequent Roman rule, “Enotria”.

The Roman Emperor Charlemagne (768-814) really began to push viticulture into a more organized commercial arena.  The irony in his “commercialization” was that the primary growers/benefactors become the Church. Beginning with the  Cistercians in the12th Century, Monasteries began taking care of vineyards in places like Burgundy and Rhine, and in fact, many like regions throughout Europe that remain  pillars of the wine industry even today. By the end of the 17th Century there are 750,000 acres in Germany dedicated to viticulture—over 3 times more than what is planted today. The social, political and economic influence of the church, strengthens ongoing and inextricable link to religion and wine.

This year, Chez Panisse turns 40. It is an unbelievable milestone for any business, but especially a restaurant, whose lifespan should be judged in dog years. Chez Panisse is embracing their long strange trip by hosting a series of celebrations. Naturally, these events are to benefit the Edible Schoolyard, which celebrates its own 15-year milestone this year. There have been scores of glowing articles written about Chez Panisse in their 40 years, but this anniversary is just too important to overlook without sharing some thoughts.

When Alice Waters opened Chez Panisse, 40 years ago, presumably no one could've predicted her trajectory of chef/restaurateur to chef/activist. To my personal dismay and frustration, some (especially younger) have suggested that their recent relinquishing of the Michelin star as evidence of their waning popularity or innovation, but why? Who cares? Perhaps Alice Waters cares, but then again, I hope not. 4 decades of praise can grow tiresome for the rest of us, but the pendulum should not swing so far in the other direction in an eager effort to prove a narrowing or surpassed achievement gap for the rest of the Bay Area restaurants. Obviously this happened long ago. But food lovers and activists should celebrate the immense impact of this restaurant.

As Ms. Waters became the preeminent voice in the local food movement, her restaurant is deserving of even more vigorous praise when we see her flanked by the First Lady, and unquestionably resounding influence on Michelle Obama's proactive crusade to fight childhood obesity and promote local agriculture. This is in no small part because of Alice Waters's continuously expansive voice emanating on these important topics.

It also can't be understated how important the Chez Panisse kitchen has been in galvanizing the now commonplace shared ethos of agrarian locality. Beyond the politics of the restaurant, the gastronomic footprint is enormous. It's not simply that so much talent came through the door over the years, it's that so many left as enduring voices and stages for generations of chefs past and present. It is no small coincidence that a favorite pastime among restaurant folks throughout the country is to play our version of 6 Degrees of Chez Panisse. I know we all kinda know the offspring, but when you see it in print, it is astonishing:

• Acme Bread Company- a pioneer of the artisan bread movement and the restaurant's bread supplier, whose founder was the restaurant's first in-house baker from 1979-1983
• Diane Dexter- founder of Artisan baker Metropolitan Bread Company, was Pastry Chef at Chez Panisse.
• Jeremiah Tower- Opened the landmark Stars and is along with Waters and Wolfgang Puck credited with inventing California Cuisine. To take it even deeper, Stars was a stage for Chefs Mario Batali, Loretta Keller, and Emily Luchetti to name a few.
• Mark Miller, chef after Jeremiah Tower, left for Berkeley's Santa Fe Bar and Grill, then later opened the Coyote Cafe in Santa Fe, New Mexico as the first of a string of Southwestern-themed restaurants throughout the United States, including a Coyote Cafe in Las Vegas, Nevada and Red Sage in Washington, DC.
• Paul Bertolli- Chef from 1982–1992, was executive chef of Oliveto in Oakland, California from 1993 until 2005 before forming Fra' Mani, a maker of Salumi for wholesale and retail sales.
• Richard Mazzera, Dennis Lapuyade, and Stephen Singer, who in 1998 founded César, a popular tapas restaurant next door
• Judy Rodgers and Gilbert Pilgram- the two chef-owners of Zuni Cafe
• Deborah Madison- worked with Judy Rodgers at lunchtime, later opened Greens Restaurant and became an acclaimed cookbook author
• Lindsey Remolif Shere pastry chef from the restaurant's founding until her retirement in 1997, along with daughter Thérèse, and friend Kathleen Stewart (also of Chez Panisse), opened Downtown Bakery and Creamery in Healdsburg, California in 1987.
• Peggy Smith ran the cafe at Chez Panisse from 1980 to 1997, before leaving to form Cowgirl Creamery, maker of cheeses including Red Hawk, as well as a cheese retailer in the Bay Area and Washington, DC
• Jonathan Waxman- after getting his start at Chez Panisse, opened Michael's in Santa Monica, California, Jams, Buds, Hulot's, Washington Park, and Barbuto in New York City (where he partnered with and mentored future Food Network star Bobby Flay), Jams in London, England, and Table 29 in Napa, California.
• Mary Canales-former pastry chef, owns and operates Ici, a gourmet ice creamery in Berkeley, CA.
• Suzanne Goin- owner of AOC, Lucques and The Hungry Cat in Los Angeles.
• David Lebovitz- author of several cookbooks and of a popular food blog, worked in pastry at Chez Panisse
• Dan Barber- owner of the Blue Hill restaurants in New York, worked at Chez Panisse. He also received an appointment from President Obama to be on his council for Physical Fitness, Sports and Nutrition.

Beyond the high profile alumni of the Berkeley institution, there are countless other anonymous dedicated cooks and servers who continue to define the way our nation eats.

This April, Nopa turned 5 years old and celebrated with an afternoon outing in the park. The most striking thing to me as I reflect on that day with my co-workers from Nopa and Nopalito, is the collective, “us”. People who have worked in or around restaurants are acutely aware of how many “random” people it takes for a restaurant to push forward. There is an inevitable ebb and flow of personnel that makes a continuing legacy of excellence a remarkable and exhaustive feat.

From hardened kitchen generals who have worked the lines and passes for years, or innately talented career crossing plug-ins who anchor these lines and passes, they are all important. And it takes constant nurturing, oversight and luck for it to all work. I wonder what a 40-year celebration for Nopa would look like? How many things would have to go right over the next 3 and a half decades to even make that a possibility? And who among us will be on our list for having created their own legacies and new opportunities for future generations of artisans, cooks and service professionals? This has already begun in fact.

Though I am a new resident of California and have never met Alice Waters, I have taken on an unexpected campaign of sorts to mobilize (my peers especially) going in for dinner. I think I know why. We are undoubtedly in the midst of a food revolution. In our generation, we have seen a wider field of technically trained cooks, more cooking schools (though this is a pandora's box for another article), more food media, more access to information, more product knowledge, more specialized skills and interests within the business, a more knowledgeable and willing dining community, more heirloom varietals, and the continuing emergence of more viable and conscious local food systems with rapidly growing groups of activists and organizations eager to aid in their advancement.

But we have to also consider that Alice Waters too was in the midst of a food revolution in 1971. It just so happens that she helped create the revolution, as an extension of a broader, real revolution that was happening in American society during the same time. It is hard to imagine she was just 27 years old -the same age as I- when she opened a humble kitchen in North Berkeley.

It is fitting that as the official 40-year anniversary date of August 27th draws nearer, one of the largest celebrations will be an edible installation at the Berkeley Art Museum. And for those that do decide to go in, I urge that you do so in the same way that you would enter a museum, with complete openness and wonderment. History has shown that too often we do not honor great artists or revolutionaries until it is in memoriam. Birthdays can be unkind reminders of our own fragility. Fortunately, this milestone offers a reminder and opportunity to celebrate this enduring and amazing nightly exhibition. And when I make my next trip, I will do so in awe and gratitude.

Stephen Satterfield

Manager @Nopasf

*If you want to check out details on the upcoming celebrations/benefits, you can do so here

One of the great things about the wine world, or the world surrounding any artistic endeavor, is the countless talented individuals toiling away at a personal vision out of sight of the general public. Because the production levels are usually miniscule for such people, it is possible to overlook their work, even if one happens to be studying the very thing they are creating. I experienced this sensation recently during a visit to the Salinia/NPA winery.

We took some of our staff up to visit Kevin Kelley and his assistant Hardy Wallace at their winery in Santa Rosa. Kevin makes many different wines. The two projects I know best are his Natural Process Alliance wines (the impetus for this trip) and the Lioco wines that he makes for Matt Licklider and Kevin O'Connor. Both of these labels are exciting, but on this visit I was moved by a different project. We tasted through three vintages of each of the three wines that Kevin makes for his Salinia label. I now believe these to be the most serious wines made under his roof.

Tasting multiple vintages was educational. It showed me that these are wines made to improve with age. The older vintages were beginning to gain the complexity that only time can lend to a wine. While there are plenty of young wines that are excellent and delightful, the truly great wines have the ability to age in bottle. And the Salinia wines are shooting for greatness.

Another attribute of great wine is that they are site specific - as in only possible from sites meeting very specific requirements. The vineyards for the Salinia wines are cool climate, located on the second ridge in from the cold Pacific. The syrah especially is grown on the razor's edge of possibility for the variety. Kevin said of the last six years he has only decided to pick once. Every other year he was forced to pick because it was so late in the year that all of the leaves had fallen off the vines and winter storms were rolling in. In 2010 the fruit was still not ripe when nature decided the growing season was over - so no syrah in 2010.

Both the Chardonnay and the Syrah come from the Heintz Ranch between Occidental and Graton. The Chardonnay was planted here back in 1982. The vines have 30 years on them now and are well known to produce some of the best fruit in California. The Syrah was planted in 2002. It is generally not a good idea to plant Chardonnay and Syrah in the same spot and Kevin admits to having doubts about the Syrah working out well. The very first vintage resolutely changed his mind.

The Pinot Noir comes from a tiny, beautiful vineyard just down the road from Heintz Ranch. There is a small white gate and an artistically broken down mailbox with the name W.E. Bottoms on it. The vines are planted super tightly (4 X 4 spacing), almost twice as dense as at the Heintz Ranch. The vineyard is completely surrounded by huge redwoods that seem to cradle it in their towering branches. It is a stunning place.

Kevin is known for questioning the wine wisdom of the day. I wrote in an earlier post about his Natural Process Alliance wines - ‘bottled' in reusable stainless steel bottles, made using as little sulfur as possible and with varying amounts of skin contact for the white wines. These three decisions are answers A, B, and C on a multiple-choice question at UC Davis about what not to do in the winemaking process. The correct answer to the question is, of course, D. All of the above. Yet the wines are compelling and correct and delicious. And equally important, the endeavor is a success.

He is no less adventurous with his Salinia wines. The farming at both of his fruit sources is organic. This is a gamble many are choosing to make now but a gamble nonetheless. It takes more work and requires more attention to detail, but it is hard to find a great winemaker or vineyard manager these days who will say spraying chemicals on a vineyard is a good thing. Necessary at times perhaps, preferred to using extra gallons of diesel in a tractor maybe, but if one can farm organically, one should. This is accepted.

Kevin shares his fruit sources with other winemakers. Save for one, Ted Lemon from Littorai, Kevin has his fruit safely in the winery a week or two before the others pick up the phone to call a picking crew. In many countries it is very risky to let your fruit hang out in the vineyard at harvest time. It can be in California too, but our weather generally allows you to get your fruit as ripe as you want. I feel like the term ‘phenolic ripeness' was invented to have an excuse to let fruit hang until it begins to raisin, because, you know, the flavors just aren't there yet. As fruit hangs out there and the sugars build to grape preserve levels, many winemakers see the points awarded their wines from major publications rising with those sugars. These are not mistaken visions, and in this economic environment and cutthroat game, who can blame them? Here in California, where the highest grossing wineries declare adamantly that there is ‘no hint of green!' in their wines, picking early is the real gamble.

In the winery, Kevin allows his wines to begin fermentation as they see fit. The safest way, the only way according to some, is to dose the freshly picked fruit with sulfur to kill off any harmful bacteria and some of the yeast and then add a hand picked yeast strain in high enough populations to take over fermentation. There are many types of yeast on the grapes when they come in from the field. Different types of yeast can give different types of flavors as they begin the process of converting sugar to alcohol, heat, and CO2. The theory is if you let the entire population do whatever it wants, you won't be able to control the flavors in the wine. If you add sulfur and then a selected strain with a specific flavor or conversion rate (sugar to alcohol rate), you have more control and get a more consistent product. The other boogeyman that winemakers speak of is a stuck fermentation, where the wine is not dry and the yeast stop working. This is bad. Commercial yeast strains are selected for their propensity to finish the job once they start. But Kevin believes allowing the entire population to get in the game from the beginning creates complexity. Yes, they all add a little something to the wine, but the more diversity of flavors the better he thinks. He has both knowledge and experience on his side here. He did lab work at Davis on native yeast populations and native ferments, photographically documenting things on a microscopic level. And working at a custom crush facility, he says he saw more stuck ferments with commercial yeast than with native yeast.

Taking risks, questioning accepted knowledge, experimenting: these are not done for thrill's sake. They are done scientifically for the sake of making great wine. The usage of whole clusters is a good example. With his Pinot Noir and Syrah, he made his first vintage with completely de-stemmed fruit, no whole clusters. He wanted to get a sense of the fruit on its own. In the next vintage, both of the finished wines had 30% whole cluster. The whole cluster portions were made separate from the de-stemmed portions, so he was able to taste 100% whole cluster versions in the second year. The next year his Syrah was 100% whole cluster, the Pinot he upped to 50%. In the case of the Pinot, he found himself tasting the whole cluster barrels and preferring them to the blend he ended up making. The next year, and now, both are 100% whole cluster. Accepted theory on using whole cluster is to use them only when the stems are lignified, or when they have turned brown and lost the greenness of color and flavor. I asked him what the stems were like for these two wines. He answered, "Neon green". I was getting used to answers like this. He continued, ‘Yeah, I know, they are supposed to be brown. But they don't get brown here, so...' So he used them anyway, experimented, tasted the results, and found his own way.

This sense of experimenting, of discovery, is refreshing. As we taste through the line up of wines with Kevin, I can see he is examining the wines just like we are. He is tasting them critically, trying to understand them so as to be able to guide their brothers and sisters with a more skilled hand and a deeper knowledge. He will freely admit he is learning as he goes. (It is surprising that so many people in so many fields try to pretend they have nothing left to learn - don't we always have something left to learn?) I question him about everything and I can tell when I ask questions he has already asked of himself. If he has come to a conclusion, the answers come out easy and free, unburdened by ego, if he has not, the process is laid bare and the lack of conclusion explained without remorse. If I happen to stumble upon a question he has not asked himself, the result is genuine curiosity, even gratitude. I love that.

We received only a case of each of these wines. They will not last long. Kevin has a small library working and in it are a few more cases of each of these - but that's it. I know it's just a bottle of wine, but there is something fascinating about holding a bottle of wine that is about to be extinct. This living, evolving thing - this snapshot of a moment in time written not in ink or pixels of color but rather in flavor and texture will cease to exist at some near point in the future. It is exciting and sad all at once and buried in there somewhere is a grand life lesson.

I hope these wines speak to you the way they did me, and that Kevin continues his exploration of the ways of the winemaker.

"Do you know where your food comes from?" If a nopa guest had posed this question to me a few weeks ago, I would have answered an enthusiastic, confident "yes." As a server at nopa, I can tell you where we get our blood oranges in the winter and our tomatoes in the summer. I know what our pigs eat and how our chickens are raised. Of course I know where our food comes from! A recent trip to Full Belly Farm, however, encouraged me to look at this question a little differently. Before our visit to the farm, my knowledge of Full Belly was hardly exhaustive. I knew who owns the farm, that it is located in Guinda, CA, and that they provide us (and in turn, thousands of San Francisco diners) with incredibly delicious produce. But had I ever met the farmers? Could I tell you where exactly Guinda is? And in all honesty, did I know how artichokes or fennel grew before they were harvested and transported to local farmers' markets? I did not. Thankfully however, my answers to these questions changed by the end of the day.

On the morning of March 10, fourteen of my fellow nopa coworkers and I piled into a 15-person van and headed 100 miles northeast of San Francisco to County Road 43 in the small, rural town of Guinda. Once we arrived, we were welcomed by Hallie, the daughter of owners Dru Rivers and Paul Muller, as well as fellow farm owner, Judith Redmond. Certified organic since 1985, this 300 acre farm is owned by the aforementioned three, as well as Andre Brait. Approximately 50 employees work year-round to harvest over 80 different crops of fruits, vegetables, herbs, nuts, and flowers. The farm is also home to chickens, cows, sheep, and lambs.

After providing us with the farm's history, Hallie and Judith led us on a tour of their breathtaking property. We gathered freshly laid eggs from their chickens, harvested kale and green garlic, and dug asparagus from the ground. We tasted fresh fennel, cut artichokes from their stalks and saw heirloom tomato seeds growing in their greenhouse. We learned about their use of cover crops and that the farm relies predominantly on solar energy to power their operations.

Our incredible day culminated in a home-cooked meal of epic proportions. And for me, it was then, as I sat down to dinner, surrounded by my nopa family and the awe-inspiring Full Belly family, that the beauty of the day truly began to sink in. Here I was, enjoying a feast that had come from right outside the kitchen door. Everything, from the lamb and potatoes, to the kale and artichokes, came directly from this farm. Even the rosé that we shared was the result of a one-time winemaking venture a few years back. This meal was not produced from a box, a mix, or a grocery store. It was made from the land, with the hands of the farmers. And everyone gathered around the table that night knew exactly where their food was coming from. We had witnessed the animals grazing in the fields and had even harvested some of the produce ourselves. And that is a truly incomparable feeling.

So in the future, when a guest asks me if I know where my food comes from, my answer will be different. Now I will simply respond, "I'm learning."

Video link: http://www.youtube.com/user/nopasf560#p/a/u/0/YbAxqB0SZEA

I recently watched Les Blank's engrossing documentary, All In This Tea, which follows importer David Lee Hoffman into China in pursuit of fine teas. Shot in the late 1990s into the mid 2000s, it's clear that David was a pioneer, scouring the mountains of Anxi County. Throughout, he determinedly seeks direct relationship with farmers as well as focusing on chemical-free production. Now commonplace in coffee and tea circles, both practices were nearly unheard of at the time and actively discouraged by the government officials accompanying him. We also get a glimpse into the effort, the human scale and the artistry involved in tea production. Centuries of hand-harvesting, toasting teas over bamboo fired woks and leaves rolled by hand; the everyday made extraordinary.

Teas from Fujian Province in the southeast of China would form the foundation of David's import company, Silk Road Teas. He has since sold the company to our friends Catherine and Ned Heagerty, who continue to uphold David's vision for organic and direct trade teas. We are proud to feature them at nopa.

You can view the trailer for All In This Tea at Les Blank's site. The entire film is also currently available for instant viewing on Netflix.

Tasting notes for our Anxi County teas from Silk Road:

• Tie Guan Yin "Monkey Picked" Oolong (Ma Liu Mie)
  Rich, roasty nose, very aromatic, with floral, fruity and malty notes. Brewed light and bright, it shows a sweet and vegetal side, with creamy melon undertones. Re-brews nicely, showing more oxidative and spinach flavors.

• Green Mist (Quing Wu)
  New to us, this green tea is earthy and leafy on the nose, while the palate is all honeydew, mirabelles and tarragon with a nice tannic bite and warm woodsy spice.

In other beverage news, Blue Bottle, our coffee supplier, is now certified as an organic handler for their already organic beans. Congrats to the whole team!

Video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNw1PwlNRWk

We have just rolled out a new set of featured wines on the wine list here at Nopa. We are offering four wines of Rocche dei Manzoni by the glass. Rocche dei Manzoni is located in Monforte d'Alba within the Barolo DOCG of Piedmont in Northwest Italy. The wines of Piedmont are notoriously age worthy. They are often consumed young before they have a change to show their true character. The folks at Robert Chadderdon did us the favor of holding onto these wines until they were ready to drink. Now we get to offer a sampling of one of the great domaines of the region - all aged perfectly and ready to drink. It is an opportunity that we restaurant people dream about.

Valentino Migliorini left a successful Michelin starred restaurant in Emilia Romagna to take over the ancient Rocche dei Manzoni estate. He was an outsider moving into a staunchly traditional and protective region. The safe thing to do would have been to keep his head down and follow the unwritten (and written) codes of the area. But Valentino had other ideas. Perhaps not being from the region made it easier for him to experiment - he was not beholden to tradition.

Much of the region began to undergo change around the time Valentino took over the Rocche dei Manzoni estate, but it seems that he was ahead of the curve on a few things. The first was blending Barbera and Nebbiolo. His first vintage of Bricco Manzoni was 1976. This wine was (and still is) 80% Nebbiolo and 20% Barbera. Although it was revolutionary at the time - and is still a bit of an oddity today - it turns out that blending a small amount of Barbera into your Barolo may have been common practice back in the early days of winemaking in the Barolo area.

The second innovative move by Valentino was to experiment with varietals outside of the traditional Dolcetto, Barbera and Nebbiolo. He planted Chardonnay and Pinot Nero - making a champagne styled wine in 1978 and eventually bottling still Chardonnay, Pinot Nero and also a Blanc de Blancs sparkling.

The third, and most radical move by Valentino was the purchasing of barriques in 1978. I think these were initially used for the Bricco Manzoni and the Barbera - but by 1982 they were experimenting with small wood on all of their wines. Today the wood is most apparent in the Barbera, Pinot Nero and Chardonnay. The Bricco Manzoni also sees partial use of barriques.

There has been a battle raging in Barolo over the use of barriques and the ‘modernizing' of Barolo. I am not sure exactly where Valentino would fall in this discussion - but if the wines are trusted to convey the spirit of the man, it seems that he would be comfortable with both camps. He was obviously an innovator. But the wines have traditional souls to me - especially the Barolos. (How can a Pinot Nero from Barolo be traditional anyway?) Most importantly, the wines speak of the place and time from where they come (even the Pinot Nero)- and equally as exciting, they convey the personality and philosophy of the man behind them.

We are featuring the following wines:

2003 "Sorito Mosconi" Barbera d'Alba - There is no mistaking the style of Barbera that
Valentino liked. This wine speaks to the modern side of the estate - it is super concentrated and dense, especially this version from the blazing hot vintage of 2003. The fruit comes from a single parcel of 60+ year old vines. It is aged in new French Oak, further pushing it into the international camp. Yet for all of that, it has a fresh acidity that carries it and firmly places it in Europe. The time in bottle has helped meld the massive amount of fruit with the new oak and has tempered some of the acidity. It is a crowd pleasing wine for sure - very hard not to like this.

2001 "Damino" Pinònero - This is truly an oddity. I believe there are 2 of 3 other producers with some Pinot Noir planted in the Langhe region. The soils of the estate are heavy in limestone, which is the magical element to the soils in Burgundy as well, so it does make some sense. Pinot Noir is probably the only grape given more credit than Nebbiolo for allowing the earth to speak, so listening to what this wine has to say is immensely interesting. The wine is made along the lines of grand cru Burgundy as far as maceration and percentage of new wood. The time in bottle is crucial, as with grand cru burgundy, to allow the wine to reach it's potential. It is an exciting offering.

1996 "Bricco Manzoni" Nebbiolo/Barbera - This was a stellar year in Piedmont. The 80% Nebbiolo in this wine allows it to age like a classic Barolo, but the 20% Barbera adds a layer of fruit and softness of texture that is like the clichéd velvet glove around the iron fist. This is a beautiful example of the first groundbreaking wine of Rocche dei Manzoni. Being able to pour this wine by the glass in 2010, 14 years after the vintage, is astounding. Offering a wine like this now, at this point in its life, is one of those things that should be common in the world of wine but is unfortunately all too rare.

2001 "Vigna Cappella Santo Stefano" Barolo - This is the ultimate holiday glass of wine. Barolo screams fall and winter holidays to me. I get tar, roses, fresh and dried red fruit, fall foliage, powerful but integrated tannins and great acidity. It has elegance, power and a sneaky richness to the midpalate. 2001 was another great vintage for Piedmont. This wine is in a young adult stage. Not fully mature but showing attributes of leaving behind the rough edges and confusion of childhood - hints of wisdom and sophistication but plenty of youthful energy. Now is a lovely time to meet this noble wine.

Stephen Tanzer has a new website called Winophilia. It is a more broadly focused sister to his International Wine Cellar publication and website. On the Winophilia site he has a section called Sommelier Roundtable in which he poses a question every few weeks to a number of sommeliers around the country. He recently sent out a question about the relevance of Bordeaux in todays wine world.  Below is a copy of the question and my response.  To check out the site, follow the link here: Winophilia.

The question:

A generation ago, cabernet-based wines were THE gold standard for red wines in most serious restaurants.  But nowadays, cabernet (whether Bordeaux or New World) has to share the stage with a growing number of other red wine categories, such as pinot noir, Piedmont wines, even syrah - to name just a few.

Do you believe there is now a generational divide in red wine preferences, with veteran winos still loyal to Bordeaux but relatively young drinkers opting for anything but cabernet?  If cabernet is of declining importance in restaurants (specifically in yours), why do you think that is?  (Are sommeliers partly responsible, for example?)

And how do you make cabernet relevant to a generation of drinkers that didn't grow up with this habit? How do you use traditional Bordeaux on the one hand and larger-scaled Napa Valley cabernets with the offerings on your restaurant's menu?  (In the back of my mind are comments I've heard from some sommeliers who believe that cabernet is not a particularly subtle or food-flexible wine.)

My response:

What happened to the prestige of Cabernet and Bordeaux in particular?  This is a question I have been asked and have spent time pondering on a few occasions.  The answer seems to be multi-layered and complex.  A combination of the changing preferences of wine drinkers and wine taste makers, marketing and pricing decisions by wine makers and/or winery owners, the sheer variety of wines available on the market today and perhaps the beating of the wings of 1000 butterflies somewhere off the coast of New Zealand.  I will attempt a few simple answers to the simplest parts of the equation.

I am 35 years old.  Even though two of my most memorable wine moments have been with Cabernet - the first a Georges de Latour from BV that shocked my young, neophyte palate back around the year 1999 and the second a 1955 Haut Brion that still resonates today - I am still not much of a Cabernet drinker.  Why is this? 

The first and most obvious answer is that I can't afford the top wines of Bordeaux.  I most likely will never make enough money in my lifetime to buy the first growths.  True, there is plenty of great Bordeaux out there that I can afford, but the fact of the matter is that the pricing of the top wines offends me.  It makes me not want to drink Bordeaux.  (I still do of course.) 

Second is that Cabernet needs age to really shine.  Aged wine is hard to come by.  It is expensive to buy wines that have been properly stored and it is expensive to store them properly yourself.  My generation does not usually have a cellar in the basement.  Many of us have wine storage units, and we do our best to age our wine properly, but it is a more difficult endeavor than in days past.  (I think. Maybe I am just being lazy.)  So again, price becomes an issue.  For those of us living in a city, space is also an issue.

Third is the style of Cabernet in the new world and increasingly in Bordeaux.  It would seem to make sense that if it is difficult for the current generation to age Cabernet wines properly, then the wineries should start making cabernet in a style that can be enjoyed upon release.  Enter the new world Cabernet with lush, super ripe fruit and ultra soft tannins.  This style of wine is simply boring to me.  It can be fun to taste just to wonder at how they can manage to fit so much fruit, alcohol and glycerin in a bottle of wine or to marvel at the weight of the bottle, but it never draws me in for a second sip - and it definitely does not make me want to drink a glass or bottle or have it with food.  This style attempts to hit pleasure points that are superficial.  It resonates with drinkers on a surface level.  The grand mistake here is that surface level bliss does not induce life long loyalty.  It is, by definition, fleeting.   (I am aware of my own preference for a leaner style wine and the way in which it influences my opinions here, but I do believe there is something inherent that goes beyond preference and speaks to the 'soul' of the drinker.)

As for Cabernet on my wine list and how I make it relevant?  As with any category of wine, I seek out the wines that I think showcase what is great about the variety and/or the place where it comes from.  I like the structure of cabernet.  It should have tannin.  Tannins are exciting and cool and impressive - they are an integral part of the Cabernet experience.  And they can go well with all sorts of food.  (I find that tannin is far more amenable to a variety of food than huge amounts of extraction and over-ripe fruit.)  So I look for young wines that have beautiful young fruit and exciting tannin and texture.  These can usually be found at a lower cost and can be a great way to bring young drinkers back into the fold of Cabernet.  As I mentioned before, I also love Cabernet with age, so I search out wines that show why I love this.  I currently have a 1989 Kathryn Kennedy Estate Cabernet from Santa Cruz that is astoundingly good and also a 2000 La Garde Bordeaux that is textbook, spot on and under 100 bucks.  And although I do not like over extraction and super ripe fruit, I do love fruit in wine, and there are a number of Napa Valley Cabernets that have extraordinary fruit without sacrificing balance.  The Vinum Hoffman Cabernet and the Corison Kronos are the two that i carry - one is extremely affordable, the other a little pricey, both are excellent.  And finally I look for Cabernet wines that come from areas other than the ones most famous for it.  Cabernet Franc from the Loire Valley is an excellent way to bring people into the Cabernet realm.  Italy has some great Cabernet.  Although I find the Tuscan model a little flawed, I love the San Leonardo from Trentino.  And don't forget about Chile! 

There is definitely a generational divide.  The young wine drinker coming on to the scene now has far more options for enlightenment than the last generation did.  There are new regions and varietals popping up every day.  It is more fashionable today, and more exciting, to study all of the brand new, cutting edge stuff in wine than to break out the old text books on Bordeaux.  This is causing a decrease in the importance of Cabernet, but it is still relevant.  It is being forced to share the spotlight.  I think that as long as the classic regions stay classic, they will always have importance.  The danger for Cabernet, in my mind, is that the houses famous for it will forget what has made it great while they seek to compete with a completely different realm of wine.  It will always have a regal place in the world of wine, what remains to be seen is whether it becomes more of a figurehead, like aging royalty of a democratic country, or whether it continues to stand for Prime Minister.

Natural wine week has arrived here in San Francisco, and it is definitely a brand new event as compared to last year.  Last year the focus was on the intellectual - trying to define natural wine, deciding what qualified and what didn't, a symposium discussing the 'rules' of natural wine.  There were a limited number of people trying to get a maximum amount of exposure.  This year it's all about the heart and soul.  There are at least twenty places holding events of some kind.  The dialogue will hopefully still drift into the intellectual realms, but the vibe is primarily about the enjoyment of good wine.  Walk into a restaurant with a serious wine program or a good wine shop this week and chances are you will be offered some 'natural wine'.  This is a good thing.  Before we get all tied up in the mental exercise of trying to define what is or is not natural, lets share the spiritual exercise of drinking natural wine.  Let's get the wine out in the market.  Turn people on to it.  I for one don't feel the need to create or be a part of some club or cult that enjoys natural wine and holds that preference over the heads of others who are not aware of it or just don't care for it.  Be transparent about how the wine was made so each person can make a decision about what styles of winemaking nurture wines that he or she likes.  It is more important to most wine drinkers that the wine be delicious and inspiring than conform to any strict dogma.  The beauty of the wines will win the day, not the words of the preachers or the choir.

So get out and taste some wine this week.  See if you like it.  If you do, explore deeper.  Find out how it is made, find out how and where the grapes are grown.  Ask questions!  Perhaps you will discover that you really like wines with no sulfur - or wines with carbonic maceration - or perhaps you will discover that you like wines with commercial yeast and oak chips, who knows.  Discovering what you like is the first step.  Being open to exploring things that are not immediately pleasurable is the next step.  Question why you like something or don't like another.  Don't be afraid to like or dislike something - tastes change over time.  Everyone is allowed to have his or her tastes evolve.  The most difficult thing in a world of people with strong opinions is to have your own. 

At Nopa we are pouring the wines of Vouette et Sorbée.  There is a really great write up on these wines by Peter Liem on the wine blog Saignée.  He does a better job than I would be able to, so I will let you explore the link for more technical info. 

We are offering all three wines of the Domaine by the glass or half glass.  There is a blanc de noir called Fidéle, a blanc de blanc called Blanc d'Argile and a Rosé from 100% Pinot Noir called Saignée de Sorbée.  They are not inexpensive, but I can confidently say that this week Nopa will be the cheapest, and perhaps the only, place in the country to drink these wines by the glass.  We are offering them at or below retail until the wine runs out or the week ends.

For nearly two months now we have featured Chilean wines at both Nopa and Nopalito. Our goal was to remind our guests that many communities in Chile are still in need of help and also to raise money for the Levantando Chile Fund. Between the two restaurants we raised over 4000 dollars and spread the word about helping Chile to thousands of our friends. We want to thank first and foremost our wonderful guests at Nopa and Nopalito. Without the willingness and interest of all of you who come in to our restaurants, we would not be able to do any of the great things we get to do. Thank You! Secondly, we want to thank all of the importers, distributors and wineries who supported the project via donations and the representatives who assisted us in finding and procuring the wines.

A special thanks to Agustin from Huneeus Vintners who was the one to come up with the idea to pour Chilean wine and donate proceeds to earthquake relief. Being a proprietor of a Chilean winery certainly must have opened his eyes to the needs of the country. He also donated wine to the project, which is doubly generous considering the losses his wineries sustained during the earthquake. We featured the Ritual Pinot Noir and the Primus Cabernet Sauvignon from Agustin's wineries. Thank you also to Kim Beto for all of his help with Agustin's wines.

Another special thanks to Mike Musgrove from The Varietal and Doug Griswold from Global Vineyard. They were very supportive in finding the right wines and in getting behind the project. They donated both time and product. We featured the Antiyal "Kuyen" Cabernet-Syrah blend, the Apaltagua Chardonnay and the Viña Maquis "Lien" Carmenère-Syrah blend.

It was great to feature the Miguel Torres "Cordillera" Cariñena-Merlot blend. This wine is unique in my mind, being the only bottling of old vine Cariñena that I know of from Chile. Mr. Miguel Torres Jr. himself was even able to come and visit with our staff and talk a little about his family and their wines - a rare treat. Thank you to the Torres group for their support and also to Craig Demko and Kieran Walsh from Wine Warehouse for getting the wine to us.

We have been pouring the Kingston "Cariblanco" Sauvignon Blanc at Nopalito since before the earthquake. It was great to have the folks at Kingston come on board without hesitation when we informed them of our intentions to donate to the Levantando Chile fund. Again, it is extra generous in my mind when a winery, which has most likely already sustained losses, chooses to give to help out others in the industry. Thank you to the great people behind the Kingston wines, and to Jon Bates for keeping the wine in good supply for us. It is far and away the best selling wine at Nopalito.

Thank you also to John Bigelow and all the folks at North Berkeley. The Chono Syrah may have been the biggest surprise of the bunch. The wine is classic cool climate syrah - lean and peppery, floral, high-toned and pretty - yet with a twist that can only be the Elqui Valley stamp. It is a gorgeous, elegant wine. Very exciting to taste syrah like that from Chile. I am looking forward to the second coming of Syrah.

Another really great wine was the Lapostolle "Cuvee Alexandre" Chardonnay.  Evan Fletcher from Pacific turned me onto this great line of wines.  They all showed a lushness that hinted at the new world but a balance that spoke of the old world.  Thank you to Moet Hennessy for donating to our cause and to Evan for bringing them to our attention and for doing the legwork for the donations.

And finally there is the Los Vascos Cabernet from the Domaine Baron de Rothschild (Lafite) and Pasternak Wine Imports. They donated wine to our project and of course the name lends a certain validity, which is nice. Also thank you to Brian Springer from Epic Wines for his help in finding wines and getting all parties on board.

It has been fun to pour wines at Nopa from a completely new region of the world and to be able to give back to others in our industry who are in need. From the beginning one of our primary goals at Nopa and Nopalito has been to build sustainable community. It is our hope that we have spread the word to our immediate community of people about the rebuilding still very much taking place in Chile - and that our financial contribution will assist a few people in our larger community to get back on track.

Video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNySb4Trb-0