Paloma, SAMsARA, What a Pair-A!

So often restaurant wine dinners are extravagant and obvious: why, yes, that tannic Cab is no mistake aside the steak. And how the Chablis-like Chard sings with the whitefish sautéed in the very same wine!  

So that’s why the recent SAMsARA dinner at Paloma on March 31 subtly surprised. The first of five delicious courses kicked off with—horrors!—a red wine. A chilled red wine. That was a 2022 Grenache from Spear Vineyard, a lighter, livelier version of the grape. SAMsARA winemaker Matt Brady--an efficient, ebullient host for the evening--called it "crunchy," which pleased me to no end as in my notes just prior I used the same term, meaning either I have a perceptive palate or we both love peculiar if precise adjectives. Its mineral, playful notes perked up with the Miliken Farms Japanese sweet potato, "brûléed" with a brown sugar BBQ sauce, hit with a bit of aioli, then strewn with sesame, scallion, and a vivid pickled ginger. Between the off-beat wine opening and the grounded yet vibrant first dish, everyone around the boisterous long table had to readjust their expectations for the evening. Very good was a bar at mere ankle-height for this crew.

The second course was spring itself on a plate, Tutti Frutti sugar snap peas, artfully sliced to expose their pretty innards, tossed with a rose dressing just faintly floral, crispy guanciale, and pickled red onion (a nice nod back to the pickled ginger in the previous course--it was that kind of sly segueing that made the evening even more memorable). The peas were buried in an avalanche of grated Pecorino, rich and salty. A steely 2022 Zotovich Chardonnay provided a laser focus to keep cutting the dish into sharper diamonds of delight. 

It turns out the process for the pairings began when Brady showed up with 18 wines for the Paloma staff, led by the unassumingly talented Paloma chef John Parker, to consider. Those flavor profiles got the kitchen's team mind spinning, and coming up with delights like the third course: a grilled oyster mushroom skewer--with all of that good red oak smoke inside--hiding a line of luscious Drake farms chèvre and also atop a shallow pool of green goddess, the two different creaminesses combining as a perfect complement to the mushroom umami. It needed a bit of textural balance that it got in two clever ways, one more typical--pepitas--and another spot-on, if oddball--toasted quinoa. The wine pairing for this course might have been the most by-the-book, but as Brady pointed out, "Pinot Noir is what we're best known for," so how could we complain? Especially when it wasn't just Pinot, it was 2022 Bentrock Vineyard PN, which Brady rightfully called "a rock star, an A+ vineyard." The wine's lean but far from mean raciness, that hint of wildness, unlocked even more flavor from the terrific dish it accompanied.

 

To be honest, they could have sent me home at that point a sated, elated man. I actually made sure to share a revised version of that old Borscht Belt saw to my nearby table mates, “Such good food—and such enormous portions!” And that was even prior to the fine servers dropping Snake River Farms wagyu tri-tip in front of me: not one, not two, but three hearty slices of precisely medium rare steak. A classic peppercorn au poivre sauce and scatter of chopped chive made the dish from Santa Maria but also from Ste. Marie, if you know what I mean, a culinary mash-up that completely worked. Plus, the humble inclusion of charred cabbage carried along the good time from the grill theme in the least pretentious, yet oddly scrumptious way. 

Brady poured one of his favorites of his own wines for this course, a 2021 Zotovich Syrah (the current release is the 2022). The 100% stem inclusion gave the wine a serious backbone, but only a hint of the green that stems can offer a wine. No, this was all about black pepper, as if it had its own au poivre sauce. Who needs a Cab when a Syrah can be this wonderful?

You know, when I started this I thought I might skip a typical course by course discourse, but I couldn't help myself. Writing this is such a lovely way to re-experience the delight of a night. And sure there was dessert, fortunately piquant and bright and light as these things tend to go--doesn't graham cracker crust seem somehow less dense? And toasted meringue, well, that's just air that's somehow spun from egg white and sugar--you could eat a bucket of that and it would barely register, no? Grapefruit curd is a fruit, so pretty much salad. White chocolate pearls are precious textural crunch and more eye candy than candy-candy, right? What's more, we washed it all down with a 2023 Blanc de Blanc that had the good breadiness you want from a sparkling wine but also a snappy depth and its own citrus bite. Another brilliant pairing that made the food better as the food made the wine better.

Kicking things off Brady made clear the SAMsARA mantra, "Let the site shine, don't put our fingers on the scales." That's a way to think of the entire evening, an unfussy yet artfully skilled celebration of gorgeous fruit and produce and proteins that would make any Santa Barbaran proud.

The County’s Finest One-Off Food Night | Clean Slate’s Just 8

(Photo: Wine Club Marketing Inc.)

No one who has attended a Just 8 Supper Club at Solvang’s Clean Slate Wine Bar would ever, ever say that they just ate. For these exclusive evenings — generally occurring once a month, and plan ahead, as they fill up quickly — offer a kitchen firing at the peak of its creativity, providing an eight-course feast. What’s more, alongside each course are wines, two curated pours per course, from the primo cellar of Matt Kettmann, my colleague here at the Independent and a Wine Enthusiast reviewer. (He warns early in the evening, an army of bottles in front of him, “That’s your job to pace yourself!”) Everyone sits along the bar at the otherwise-closed-for-the-night Clean Slate, melding into one sated, happy food family by evening’s end.

Care to read the rest then do so at the Santa Barbara Independent's site.

Celebrate a Great Just 8 at Clean Slate

(Photos by Christian Rodriguez Photography, courtesy Clean Slate Wine Bar)

Consider this post just a quick preview of a future article for the Independent. Back in October I was lucky enough to attend a Just 8 dinner at Clean Slate Wine Bar in Solvang. Eight courses, 16 and a bonus wine generously shared from the cellar of the Indy and Wine Enthusiast's Matt Kettmann, only 8 guests, hours of delight. As good as Chef Melissa Scrymgeour's menus usually are, for an event like this one she really gets to play, to do things that would bog down service in her tiny kitchen if she had to crank the dish out all night. So you get stuff like that King Salmon Thai Pumpkin Curry above, with kuri squash standing in for the pumpkin--never a bad move if you ask me. 

I'm not going to do a run down of each of the courses, just drop in some tantalizing glimpses to make you get to one of these extravagantly special evenings one day. Plus it also reflects the nature of what Melissa and her husband Jason, a wonderfully warm host, are doing every night. After all, the restaurant's name refers to the slate they chalk each evening's menu upon. Sure, nights often have themes, from curry to Cajun, but you never quite know what might be served up. It all depends upon the season, what some farmer has that's perfectly ripe, etc. And on Melissa's exquisite palate--see her modern salad Niçoise above, the bluefin tuna a hearty tartare beneath both a potato-parmesan crisp and a scatter of angle-sliced green beans. Four leafs of little gems. Dollops of Dijon vinaigrette. And then the molecular magic of caper pearls, like frozen teardrops of salt.

 

And this elegant rethink of Coquille St. Jacques, one expertly seared scallop, a sprinkle of local, roasted mushrooms, a sauce of bright cream and wine. Speaking of, Kettmann did a wonderful job double pairing each course, to the point with this one the two Chardonnays, a 2022 Beauregard Ben Lomond Mountain and a 2019 Solomon Hills Estate "Belle of the Ball" Reserve, did one of those odd flips--I preferred the former with its racy, Chablis-like character just to drink, but then with the rich dish, the richer Solomon Hills said, "I got this," and sang forcefully along.

So, here's to the gang at Clean Slate, where I did far more than just ate. Look for an article before the next one goes on sale in 2025. And get up there in the meantime.

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.)

A Dees-licious Wine Dinner at The Lark

 

So I could simply say just read that menu and that would save both of us a whole lot of work--you can probably taste the yumminess just from that.

But I still want to write about how well a wine dinner can synch, for the one last night at The Lark (ok, actually held at sister property the SB Wine Collective, but created by The Lark team) featuring wines from the wondrous Matt Dees--namely Mail Road and Kimsey--danced like Rogers and Astaire, harmonized like the Temptations, even comically contrasted like Laurel and Hardy.

Let's start with dessert, shall we? See what wine paired with it? Now, when does a wine dinner end with rosé? But it totally worked, here, its copper color fitting in with the playful mix of balled melons, and the wine's acid cutting the sweet of the granita. Even the kick of the Aleppo pepper--and it was pretty kicky--turned the dish into something more (the borage flowers, so pretty and a bit tart, didn't hurt). Such a clever, refreshing course.

And refreshing might be the key word for Dees' approach to whites, too. That Mail Road Chardonnay illuminated the brilliance of the unique Mt. Carmel Vineyard, a site Dees clearly loves. (He likes his vineyards a bit harsh and unforgiving--remember he gets to work with Radian and Bentrock, too.) If you're looking for oak, this is the wrong wine for you--it's a pure expression of its fruit, with lime zest zing and then enough acid you could almost cut with it. 

Or cut a surprisingly rich dish like the opening halibut crudo, that I joked was halibut potato salad because of the grilled corn aioli that leaned a tad into its mayonnaise-ness, especially with the addition of some pickled green tomato. (I mean this is the most loving way.)  Still, that fish was rich and nearly unctuous. And then the perfectly fried avocado nuggets.... Chef Jason Paluska put together a dish cohesive and unusual all at once, and it set the tone for the rest of the delicious evening.

That's Dees explaining that when the block of marble comes in from the amazing vineyard sites he gets to play with, in this case Mt. Carmel in the Sta. Rita Hills and Kimsey in Ballard Canyon, you can either take a chisel to it and make it something else or take some sandpaper to it, and make it shine. One guess what he does.

Which he does no better than the Mail Road Pinot they poured last night. Here's how Antonio Galloni aptly put it: "A wine of structure and power…dark, sumptuous and enveloping on the palate…the 2015 possesses remarkable fruit intensity…Black cherry, plum, spice, leather and menthol…Don’t miss it." We didn't--and thanks to the staff for keeping refilling the glasses, too--very generous.

That powerful pinot was an on-the-nose match for the richness of the duck liver mousse, not quite as gamey as foie, but lavish and creamy, sort of like if meat and gelato had a baby that could live at room temp. This dish's accoutrements were equally brilliant bites, cashews roasted in duck fat so extra umami-ed, and Rainier cherries poached and plump. I might have said I would have spent the rest of my life at the Wine Collective if someone would keep bringing me boards of mousse and glasses of pinot. 

Yes, it's almost hard to see the lamb ribs in there, but that just attests to this dish being all about its strewn-composition, the smoke on the meat, the char on the eggplant and peppers, the juice of the pluot, the bite of the watercress. So much to take in, you just keep savoring bite after bite. And then there's the Kimsey Syrah, a bold wine, as it needed to be to stand up the fat and sweet lamb, but then it just cascaded with flavor, blackberry, a hint of anise, sage, black pepper, and more. 

Here are Chryss's two subs for the meaty things she doesn't eat. She says they were as good as they looked. And the couple of bites I snuck said the same.

The Lark is going to keep doing these winemaker dinners, and now that all of us vaccinated folks can sit inside next to each other and not die, they're going to be a lot of fun. The next one will be with Graham Tatomer.

And one tiny issue--why is "served to share" still a thing? I imagined COVID would have knocked that one out of the kitchen playbook, but even without the fear of cooties, it's often just awkward, especially with something like the mousse board. And our end of the table sat three people with dietary restrictions, all different (one gluten free, one pescatarian, one lactose intolerant), so they had to bring up a bunch of different dishes too. I get the largesse of it, and the sense we all dip into the communal plate and all that. But that's also not quite reason enough. 

Introducing Pico’s John Wayne Formica

Think of Pico’s “Explore the Central Coast Winemaker Series” as Chef John Wayne Formica’s coming-out party. Formica officially became chef of the restaurant, which lives inside the Los Alamos General Store, on March 3, 2020, but then COVID cruelly crashed his party two weeks later. The restaurant, as he puts it, “bobbed and weaved” through the pandemic’s tiers and openings and closings over the next year — Zoom cooking classes for 70, takeout trials, and supporting the Feed the Valley project led by Bell’s down the road. But now, as the vaccines improve our outlook, Pico finally gets to shine under Formica’s vision.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Independent's site. (P.S. You will encounter the pork chop above in the story.)

Savoring a Solvang Spring

On Alamo Pintado Road, the Buttonwood Farm-Winery-Vineyard is a secret in plain sight. If you pull in to the tasting room, then walk out back, the rest of Solvang seems to fall away. Our brief bursts of rain turned the thirsty hills gushingly green; the herb garden did its always seasonally blooming thing; goats and their kids scrambled along the rolling landscape. Pastoral at its picture perfect. Such was the case last Saturday for Buttonwood's Taste of Solvang dinner, when all the makings came from within 25 miles of the lovely veranda we all sat upon for the five-course meal (preceded by some goat cheese sprinkled with farm-made olive oil and fresh herbs paired with the 2014 Sauv Blanc, a snack I could easily have made a dinner of all by itself).

Now I could take you through the meal course-by-course, and not talking at all about the charred lamb chops with tomatillo harissa atop canary bean hummus you scooped with fresh, grilled naan hurts a bit, as I hadn't had lamb quite that vivid in years.

But no, I want to talk about salad. Because we so often don't, and should, but too often can't beyond to say, "Yeah, there was one." But what Chef Conrad Gonzales of Vallefresh did with this one, well, you can see it above, and that's one crucial component. Take that pink paint. Sure, too many kitchens smear a dish without something before sending it out, thinking some color is everything, as if cooking for Instagram. But this beet-infused goat cheese you needed to scrape off the plate, it was so tasty, and its coral pink echoed the zingy Buttonwood Syrah Rose. (Karen Steinwachs is making some rocking wines that cry out for delicious food. Their cries got more than answered all evening.)

What's more, it's a tad early for strawberries of course. So to remedy that possible less-than-peak problem, Gonzales pickled them. Berry sweet up to the point they could manage, then the vinegar kicked in, just enough to make you remember how delicious Balsamic is on strawberries. That all gets cut by the greens, a mix of market and foraged, lettuce and herb, leaf and flower. So many textures, flavors, the idea of salad expanding. The fine fat of avocado. The crunch of a toss of toasted almonds. A pickled carrot, so much earth. And the hardboiled egg, from the farm, of course, so the yolk is the yellow of a rain slicker.

It's something to get the chance to devour spring.

The International King of Cab Comes to Montecito

Opus One is the powerfully elegant marriage of Old World and New, reflecting the philosophy of founders Baron Philippine de Rothschild and Robert Mondavi. Now it’s coming to Santa Barbara, in the form of winemaker Michael Silacci, who will be giving an introduction to his globally acclaimed wines and pouring a vertical of 2007-2010 Opus One at a dinner for a mere 35 lucky people at the Four Seasons The Biltmore. Independent Foodie Award-winning chef Alessandro Cartumini has crafted a four-course menu plus reception appetizers to match these wines, featuring everything from hamachi crudo on rye crostino with poppy-seed dressing, to whole-roasted rib eye and short-rib duo with parsnip puree and apple slaw.

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