SB Poets Take Ireland: Day 6

Read

Let's just start here, no introduction, because, well, look above. That's the page of the summer program for the Seamus Heaney HomePlace about Chryss, David, and Paul's reading. (I took the picture, so that makes me an international photographer now.) But they are the stars, of course--I mean a couple pages from their event was one with Viv Albertine! From the Slits! Like real true punk!

As if reading at a museum to the memory of a Noble Prize winner isn't enough. Heaney is one of those poets everyone seems to love, and how could you not, given his work is almost mystically musical (he mines internal rhyme like my Slovak ancestors dug anthracite out of Scranton), so of a place and instantly of all humanity. That's not easy to do without toppling into bathos, but he's far too unsentimental for that, as he knows the world is cruel and we are the world. Yet most of us still hold hope like a noose holds an adulterer's neck.

The trio was hosted by the HomePlace's manager Brian McCormick, yet one more too-kind Irish person. I mean, functionaries in the U.S. can be bored/proud/snobby, oh, you know these folks. None of that here. McCormick just wanted the best event, so you wanted to help that happen.

And the the three laureates each read for 15 minutes or so, their care and concern for words and the world dear and deepening. The small crowd in the Library of the HomePlace was richly rewarded and hung about to chat afterwards, wanting to know more.

Bed

Not only did the poets get to read at a museum dedicated to a Noble Prize winner, but said museum also put us all up for a night for free at the Glenavon House Hotel in Cookstown. A fascinating place, once an estate and now a hotel rigged about two sides of a stream, that turns out to be a famous spot for weddings--you could practically not open a hallway door without banging the butt of a mother-of-a-bride. (True story.) Super nice staff, too. After the afternoon reading and dinner we retired to the bustling bar only to have some 20-year-old Irish dude serenade us with hits of the day like "Roxanne." The world can be too international at times.

Fed

Hotel room--check. Lunch at Heaney HomePlace--check. Thank you, kind people. Nothing too fancy, but free makes up for that, don't it. You know, sandwiches, salads, some sweets. David even figured out there was a Heaney farmhouse brewing Irish red ale (don't know how I missed that).

For dinner we escaped wedding-central at the hotel and walked into Cookstown to find one of the places the hotel desk most recommended, Villa Vinci Restaurante. OK, I know what you're thinking, that means they only serve gnocchi, as it's the only Italian food with potatoes. But you're wrong, so wrong. First, here's what Sharon and Paul Willis and Chryss look like standing in front of it.

And then you open up the door, and here are all the pastas.

At least the ones Chryss and I ordered. The first is Marti Johnson’s Hot Smoked Salmon with peas, asparagus and white wine sauce with linguine. The second is Spaghetti con Frutti di Mare, featuring local seafood sautéed with garlic and white wine in a cherry tomato sauce. We do not know who Marti Johnson is, but she makes a lovely dish. All of this was excellent without being exceptional, if that makes sense, but then that's what so much of Italian cuisine seems to want to be. Pleasing without even worrying about perfect, because how pleasing is that worry? Take it easy. Order more wine. Like this satisfying tempranillo for a value play.

Somehow the poor place seemed a bit overwhelmed by our giant table of 6, or who knows what was happening, but they were out of some things, and then things they did have took awhile to come out. So that meant Italian/Irish hospitality kicked in, and dishes started showing up for free--salads and pizzas, two of which got to share a plate once we slowly pied our way through them. Quite good.

Poured

Oops, I did that already. See wine above. There was Guinness at the hotel bar.

Toured

Before Chryss and I left Blacklion, we got to hang with the cows a bit, thinking we might find a spot with coffee and scones or something, but not so (we did get to stare into MacNean House and Restaurant, but even if they were open we didn't have the time to invest there). But cows!

And as it was a short 90 minute drive today, one last pass through Enniskillen which we'd sort of felt connected too (a whole three days in its vicinity!), and off to Cookstown.

Also, we can't say enough about the Heaney HomePlace in Bellaghy as a way to memorialize a poet. (Quick, name the U.S. museums that do that?) First, everyone gets a wand, so you can listen to his poems as they apply to the exhibits of his life. And hearing his music is the sweetest of singing. So sure there's a couple spots that seem too much like reliquaries--hey, here's the leather jacket he wore for too long, just like James Dean or Joey Ramone or Augustine of Hippo!--but what else should honor a twentieth century saint of the word on an island where religion can mean everything?

Even better, the museum wasn't just displays, it also kept offering you a chance to take part, from naming your favorite Heaney book (hey, that assumes guests have read more than one) to getting you to create. Irish schoolchildren are crazy lucky.

Go ahead to the post on Day 7 (Waterford, Cork).

Go back to the post on Day 5 (Blacklion, Devenish Island, Enniskillen).

Besides the Tapped Out Tapas, A Fine Rioja Time

At the start of the recent Rioja Wine & Tapas Festival, held May 21 at the ever-gorgeous Union Station in Los Angeles, I'm agog at the huge tables of cheese--enough Manchego to drown in if you melted it--and goat cheese dusted with crumbled truffle chips and mussels with garbanzos and capers and Jamon Iberico getting spiraled into tender hammy sheets. Alas, after 20 minutes, the lines that form for all this goodness remind one this is taking place in a train station. Hurry up and wait, and maybe eat.

Perhaps write up the event as notes, as impressions made in what is necessarily a series of quick hits.

Note to self: if you ever put on a food and wine festival, integrate food and wine in the layout; if you could get tastes of wine while waiting in a food line, you'd be a much happier patient camper.

Palacios Remondo Placet Valtomelloso 2010 A Viura, Rioja's most prominent white grape (elsewhere it's called Macabeo, among other names--clearly the marketers didn't get in on the ground floor of the Rioja wine industry), this is big without going big big, aged in oak but still mighty fresh, a lovely peach/pear mix of a white (Chardonnay nodding to Roussanne?). It's not cheap ($45), but it is delish.

Fernandez de Pierola Reserva 2005: exactly the dusky/dusty notes you want in a Tempranillo. Cries out for food, but doesn't know how much you would cry if you waited on a line for food. Does not get food, but is good anyway.

In the courtyard, several pig halves grill away in the sun, the smoke from them infusing everything. So when a wine tastes like grilled meat, it's hard to know what your nose might be picking up, but it certainly pairs well--Tempranillo is nothing if not BBQ-friendly.

1500 people there, all the men in incredibly well-chosen shirts (does Spain bring out the haberdasher-lover?). Probably 1399 of them are in the paella line ahead of me, but I wait anyway, because paella. After 30 minutes, I get to the front of the line as the person two in front of me gets the last scrapings. It's 2:15 at a festival that runs until 5. Chef, not very polite, says come back in 30 minutes. I am not sure how someone at a catering style event doesn't have the next platter of food ready to go when one runs out. I am sure I'm not waiting for paella again.

Hello Graciano, no relation to Rocky (who, yes, was Graziano). One of Rioja's red varietals, but it's known for low yields and susceptibility to disease, so there isn't much of it. Found I liked Ijalba's 2011, deep red fruit and good spice notes and a pleasing SRP of $22. (It gets blended a lot, too.)

What chef/restaurant was that hidden amidst the meat-servers and their forbidding lines, serving the pickled mushrooms? One of my favorite plates of the day, so bracing and lifted with very fresh thyme.

At 3:40 tasting at the Bodegas Muriel table, and they are out of their two aged wines (a 2011 Reserva and a 2005 Gran Reserva). The Crianza 2012 is bright and yummy, finishing with spiced cherry. Can only imagine how good the older stuff is. No doubt others got to have it with paella. 

DJ Lord, who has been part of Public Enemy in its later incarnations, brought the edginess of PE--near the end of the day one of his cuts repeated "motherf---er" over and over. So "Rioja, music to gangsta by," why not? Maybe he was pissed he didn't get paella too.


The final long-day roasted pigs, so good, especially the crackling--crisp and crunchy pig candy. Many people have gone home by now as pretty much all the wine is poured, all the food snacked down. But the nice server at the roast pig station, as I offer a very sincere thanks (I mean, who wants to wait at events like this?) gives me an extra piece or two, I'm sure.

Sip This: Campo Viejo Tempranillo

Campo Viejo 2013 Tempranillo: At right around $10 retail, it’s easy to think of this Spanish charmer as “Tempt-ranillo.” Even easier is the common quandary of, how do European winemakers make and ship us such tasty values when it’s so hard to get a tasty bargain from California?

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site.

Sip This: Field Recordings Tempranillo

Field Recordings Ventucopa Tempranillo 2013: From the distant reaches of the Santa Barbara Highlands comes this light-on-its-feet expression of the great Spanish grape that doesn’t get grown enough on the Central Coast.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Indy's site.