A Tequila That's the Real-a Deal-a

There are many things I would do for you, dear reader, not the least of which turns out to be heading to a chic Montecito party to have people feed me incredible edibles and pour me $280-a-bottle tequila to my heart's content. Yep, a-gave the office for you folks...keep reading that one till you groan with disbelief. For way back on Cinco de Mayo--it's been awhile, so perhaps I'm just getting sober--I was invited along with many people with fancier clothes, cars, and money than mine (I'm sure it's not just more money, it's fancier, too, like the presidents on it aren't even just Jackson and Franklin but Lester Young) for a deubtante ball of sorts featuring Casa Dragones and its single product, a sipping tequila that is mighty fine, indeed. It's a 100% Blue Agave Joven style, which is unusual, too, and a clever marketing move. And sure, why believe me, now that I've been bought for a mere fine party, but the tequila is incredible, from its clear-going-to-silver unbelievable color, which, of course, they call platinum because silver is for peons (like Daisy Buchanan's voice, it looks like money*) to its range of aromas and flavors, citrus to oak (yes, they oak age for you long time). Better yet it's so finely distilled that even sipping away as the servers never quite let anyone get a glass to empty, it didn't finally clock you upside your cabeza and leave you hurting for muchas dias.  Is it worth $280 a bottle? When poured in Montecito gratis it is, without a doubt, and that's even on a day when a fog bank blocked the ocean view from the estate where we partied down.

As for the food, it turns out anything made really really well goes with any distilled drink made perfectly. So the passed apps, and they just kept coming--you almost had to take things from the servers just because you felt sorry for them carrying all those trays around--were heavy on seafood and light on cooking, which was bright, bracing, beautiful. Ceviches and sears and fresh scallop sliced in citrus in a slurp it up, but politely, this is a fancy party, spoon. There were tables to get tamales and tacos, and again this wasn't street food for a second. I may never have seen the face of Jeebus on my tortilla, but I have sensed his presence in ones as good as those from this party.

Then, of course, there was Mexican techno, too, as the Mexican Institute of Sound was flown in for the gig. My guess is a good half the guest list wasn't pleased, no doubt trying to figure out who let their gardeners have turntables and synthesizers, but the band was fun, and you could boogie a bit on the outdoor temp dance floor which was covered with a blownup photo of an agave plant.

As for stars, Michael Keaton was there and gave off the air of someone more or less normal. But he is pretty small--that Batman suit must have been gigantic. Alexandra Paul was there, but I don't recognize anyone from Baywatch unless they're in red bathing suits. And then there was Dennis Miller, and, alas, I failed to think of this line soon enough: "So, Dennis, now that Bin Laden is dead, can you go back to being funny?"

*You really didn't think Third Eye Blind came up with that on its own, did you?

Haiti? No, Me Likey!

Fried plaintains and Cold Heaven Viognier. Trust me on this one.

Is It the Dressing or the Stuffing that Makes This So Tasty?

I've written about it before, but just so you know, Santa Barbara is home to the baby ridgeback shrimp.... OK, wait, this comes from Buzzfeed's 20 Babies Dressed as Food. Which makes me feel a lot better about not having kids, given how much I like to eat. I mean, how could you not experiment? I figure till they're about three-years-old they're yours, aren't they, so you should be able to do what you want. It might even be the environmentally sound thing to do, as you grow your own food, eat as local as possible, and reduce the global population all in one tasty meal.

Seriously, it really means that parents have too much time on their hands, and too much disposable income to make costumes that make their children look like food. Which, if you think about it for as long as it probably took people to make some of these outfits, and that better be a long time, and they better not be mass-produced somewhere (picture this: a Chinese factory with underage, poorly paid Chinese girls working a line putting together hotdog suits so American children can dress up as the food the Chinese workers can't afford to eat themselves), you just have to end thinking a profound thought like, "Huh?"

Plus I'm rethinking that next serving of baby vegetables I get at a fine dining spot.

Brophy Bros, Where All of Santa Barbara Goes

In 1986, the Billboard top song of the year was Dionne and Friends doing “That’s What Friends Are For.” Cheers, in its fourth season, became a top 10 hit on TV. Meanwhile, here in Santa Barbara, the Bennett family opened Brophy Bros., and we got our own place for friends. “We’ve had billionaires sitting next to hobos, real billionaires not just millionaires,” said John Bennett. “That’s Brophy Bros. We were never limited to one demographic. That’s why if we ever have a new server acting uppity, I tell her, ‘Get rid of the attitude—there’s nothing cool about slopping chowder.’”

Want to read the rest, then go to the Indy site.

Georgeeats Faster

Just so you know, while the blog is still Blogger powered, you can now visit directly via www.georgeeats.com

Technology is wonderful.

Prime Rhine Wine Time

What a quality gustatory experience worth is both a tough and easy question to answer. In some ways, it's worth whatever a person is willing to pay, if that's not too tautological. I mean, if people stopped going into debt to eat at the French Laundry (it's $270 a person, now, sans tax, tip, alcohol), Thomas Keller would have to rethink the business model.

The same is true for wine, too, and wine has had to make a bit of an adjustment of late, what with the economy tanking and all. In general wine-sellers (no, not cellars) would tell you recent years have meant a highly bifurcated wine market--you had to sell your grape juice for either under $20 or over $75. Death to the middle class, as it were.

So you might wonder if the high end stuff is still any good, or is just there so folks can show off. And, sometimes, it really really is that good. Case in point Chene Bleu, a new house in France that had a small tasting in Santa Barbara the other night. Turns out they've hit it off with the Wine Cask's Doug Margerum, who is even making a wine of his own under his Margerum label from their grapes, a rose´ they had sadly run out of by the time I got to the tasting. Especially since Chene Bleu's own, a 60% Grenache, 40% Syrah blend (Margerum's is 100% Grenache), was lovely, the sort of thing Provence does so well, both flavorful and malleable, if that makes sense, calling out for food of all sorts. That wine, $30, not cheap for a rose´, but in this portfolio, definitely the entry drug, as it were.

The tricky part is Chene Bleu is top-of-the-line through and through. Go check out the website, if you don't believe me, one of the best designed I've seen in a long time--elegant, info rich, ripe with gorgeous photos, abetted by judicious use of video. They're also working at a bit of a deficit, as they're outside all the named appellations--neighbors to Gigondas and Chateauneuf-du-Pape, but even more into the magnificent Dentelles de Montmirail. That lacey limestone backdrop means their vineyards are isolated and protected and unusual. And the soil is nutrient rich.

You get to taste all that in the bottle, even when the bottle costs $100. They also like to bottle-age, so are just releasing a 2006 Abelard (90% Grenache, 10% Syrah) and a 2006 Heloise (65% Syrah, 32% Grenache, and 3% Viognier), while still insisting the wines are mighty young. Nicole Sierra-Rolet, who was presenting the wines from the winery, went even further, claiming the Abelard really needed to decant, and was a brilliant second-day wine. That said, it would be hard to imagine any making it past the first evening, it was such a gorgeous mouthful upon the bottle opening, rich red berry flavors and a persistent and pleasing pepper in the finish.

So, if you've got some spare hundreds, you won't go wrong here. Or make sure you've got some rich friends, and advise them as to what to buy.

Bourdain Jacks the Ripert

So then Eric Ripert said "You'll shoot your eye out!" and he kicked me down the slide. Or at least that's sort of how it seemed at the lightning-fast meet-and-greet after the Eric Ripert-Tony Bourdain presentation at the Arlington. Even the pose of the image above looks like it could be a Photoshop job, but can you blame them for not wanting to have to chat too long with anyone, especially given the types of questions that dominated the q&a portion of their event. I still don't get how some people think it's ok to ask a very personally focused question "I'm going to _____ in ______, and I would like dining recommendations...." like Bourdain and Ripert where there as personal travel agents, and as if the 2000 other people in the theater gave a sauteed soupcon about them our their lives.

That said the two famous chefs were ever-gracious, and managed generally to take even the most ridiculous of questions and say something interesting. And then Bourdain had to deal with a young-whipper-snapper telling him that on his recommendation from his Rome show he rushed right out to have the cacio e pepe and "expected better of you." Bourdain not only told the young teen he might get it when he's older, but he also said, "I admire your balls to come up and say that."

Otherwise, it was an entertaining afternoon, if nothing earth-shaking. Ripert firmly defended "farm to table," while Bourdain worried it merely made food more expensive and boutique. Both agreed they wouldn't eat dog, unless it was offered by a host in someone's home and they couldn't refuse and be rude. If the world was ending and they had to have their last moment within 100 miles of Santa Barbara, Ripert would head to the beach, Bourdain, ever the rock-n-roller (and clearly the pre-show recorded music was his playlist, with lots of Dead Boys and Voidoids), wanted to be found floating in the Chateau Marmont pool. The actual opening, when they grilled each other courtroom style with leading questions (Bourdain pushed as to whether Ripert was truly American, Ripert questioned whether Bourdain could really cook at all--guess which line of questioning hurt more?) seemed a bit stiff and forced, but they seemed to be having fun, so why shouldn't we? As Bourdain says, "After all, we're in the pleasure business." Nice work if you can get it....