Showing posts with label rosé. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rosé. Show all posts

Friday, September 6, 2024

Loving Loquita x Raventós

If the world were just, and if I had mad programming skills, this post would auto-generate with a different lead photo every time its code got called for, and even what I wrote would be once again better and new. But you know the state of the world. So let's make do with what we've got.

On September 5th, what we got was glorious, if you were part of the we attending the Loquita wine dinner featuring Spain's Raventós. From the oyster blushing under its pomegranate foam amuse to the dessert of arroz con leche topped with espuma de cava and hiding perfect pieces of peach, every morsel delighted both the eye and the taste buds. (That's four courses between those two, btw.) But to prevent this post from running as long as the leisurely dinner, let's just talk rabbit.

It is sort of rascally up there, let me tell you. That's rabbit two ways, the bulk a pulled-bunny that called to mind carnitas without any of the deeper grill/sear, and then two rounds of loin wrapped in Iberico ham, as if they needed more. Of course, we love gilded lillies for a reason--they are delicious. (OK, that metaphor failed, butI hope you get my drift.) Pea shoots and favas provided earthiness and greeniness and contrast and lift (and a hint of things perhaps even your rabbit once enjoyed). The sauce managed to be punchy without being spicy, one of the ways, for me, to distinguish Spanish food from Mexican (what with the lines of influence and empire ever mucking the world up). Relatively recently appointed executive chef Elier Rodriguez truly proved what he can do. Somehow it was a plate all at once rustic, precise, simple, yet hinting at complexities. 

That's where the wines from Raventós I Blanc / Can Sumoi come in. There's a long long story--parts of it extend to 1497--and there's turmoil and world wars and phylloxera and family fights and untimely deaths. It could easily fuel a fiery telenovela. But now the goal seems to renew its region of Penedés near Barcelona as a site of fine winemaking. That means reviving somewhat (at least to US ears) obscure grapes, and leaning in to organic/biodynamic farming, natural yeasts, hand-picking, etc.

For the rabbit course the pair was a 2023 Rosado "La Rosa" from Can Sumoi that the rep visiting from Spain, Martín, insisted was their iconic wine, made from the beginning. A blend of 60% Sumoll and 40% Xarel-lo--grapes that sound more like characters in a LOTR video game, no?--the wine is sourced from 20-60 year-old vines rooted in poor clay-limestone soil at 600m altitude. So it suffered to be here, which is what tends to make wines kicky and vibrant, like this salmon-tinged gem. For a concern best known for trying to elevate cava, the still wines all showed quite well too. (Not to even begin to suggest that the cava wasn't elegant and quenching.)

How about some quick photos and comments and less verbiage you ask? Sure!


Here's the full lineup of food and wine. Not a false move all evening, and a pleasant build too.

The password was swordfish. As close as a pescatarian will ever get to prosciutto. And hooray for puffed millet!

Martín during one of his moments to let us know what we were drinking.

Heirloom Tutti Frutti tomato carpaccio, late summer in redolent, shockingly thin slices. 


We'll end in the graveyard eventually. (But generally not so satisfied.)

Friday, July 14, 2023

A Pinker Shade of Pale

 

After a lifetime of marketing for a living, I can get tetchy about being even in the slightest bullshitted, even when the BS comes in a beautiful bottle. So I have to admit when something arrived for sampling called "The Pale: Rosé by Sacha Lichine" in a heavy for a pink beveled-bottom bottle with a label that looks like a Roaring 20s New Yorker cover, it was easy to sigh a cynical "oh, please." Sure enough, the brand's website boasts, "An accessible symbol of luxury." At a $16.99 SRP, the accessible is certainly true. 

So of course it was important to taste. With the sudden and wonderful appearance of summer in Santa Barbara (where were you?), it seems a perfect time to chill this 2021 down and sip some in our backyard garden. The Pale is just that, a salmon going to copper pour. Not particularly assertive on the nose, there's a whiff of lemon blossom and that pleasingly clean spring smell good rosés seem to have. The wine drinks clean and lean, its fruit a mix of wild strawberry and white peach, and not a hint of flab (it's only 12.5% ABV). While not outstanding, that's actually its charm--it rings with familiarity for anyone who has quaffed a few Provence rosés prior.

They might be selling it as a lifestyle pour, but it's better than that, and you don't need to drink with someone whose voice is full of money to enjoy it. Sure Sacha Lichine "is the creator of the iconic rosé brand Whispering Angel" (as the brand's press would have it--note the terms creator and not winemaker), but that doesn't mean you can't find it worth your warm afternoon's while.