There’s a new kid on the wine journalism block (and no, I’m not referring to my own magazine, which has just about 24 hours left in its Kickstarter campaign if you want to pre-order Issue 1).
I’m talking about Sprudge Wine, an offspring of the madly popular coffee website Sprudge. The editor, Jordan Michelman, has fallen hard for wine, to the point where he decided to begin publishing wine journalism. Having met Jordan during a recent visit to Portland, Oregon, where he lives with his family, I can attest that he has great taste in wine. Example:
(That gamay from Julien Labet was a truly awesome wine; thanks, Jordan.)
I think the new Sprudge Wine site, which compares natural wine aptly to third-wave coffee, is going to do great things (follow them on IG and Twitter to keep up). To kick things off, I’ve got a post recommending some great rosés to drink now (including bubbles, and and one delicious Cerasuolo–I take “pink” as a broad category, faaaar beyond Provençal-style juice). As well, I have my final writings on the New York scene for the time being: a round-up of some slightly under-the-radar spots to eat well and drink great wine (why would you ever want to do one without the other)? Oh man, am I already getting nostalgic for New York? No . . . maybe???
Read my rosé recos here, and the restaurant piece here. Quick note about the pink wines pictuted above; I was not able to include the one on the far left in the piece because it’s too limited production, but it is a delicious Syrah pét-nat rosé from Early Mountain Vineyards in Virginia–super lively and fresh, with wonderful fruit notes, completely dry, and something I hope they make more of, so you can all enjoy it!
Written from the Athens airport, en route to Santorini. But more on that soon.
I sincerely hope you have some good rosé around to get you through this shitty news cycle! My god. I need about ten bottles.
Joan Didion: “It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends. I can remember now, with a clarity that makes the nerves in the back of my neck constrict, when New York began for me, but I cannot lay my finger upon the moment it ended, can never cut through the ambiguities and second starts and broken resolves to the exact place on the page where the heroine is no longer as optimistic as she once was.” – “Goodbye to All That“
When I moved to New York, I didn’t know I wanted to be a writer. In fact, I’d forgotten all about writing as an artform, and was totally focused on an academic career.
But I grew up with writer parents, surrounded by books, our household first on the block to have a computer (or a “word processor,” rather, made by Epson–yes, they did computers before printers!). I couldn’t stay away from the life of words for long. Nobody ever said to me, “Hey, did you consider journalism, or writing?” It was like I was pulled to it, the métier spoke to me from a place beyond my control.
And as I set out teaching myself the basic skills of reporting and producing a story (nut graf, intro, body, conclusion; the foundational structure of everything), I realized that New York was going to be hard on me as a writer. Money was short, and student loans were heavy weights. I traveled to the Bronx at 5:30am to substitute teach in charter schools. Had almost no furniture. Ate lots of uninspired pasta and bulletproof Chinese food, drank cheap beer and Trader Joe’s wine, and often cried at night in a bathtub with a neat whiskey in hand: how am I going to do this, here, in this city?
Over the years, New York has not gotten any easier on me. I’ve gotten tougher, probably. I’ve learned to let the drive to write overcome everything. But other kinds of obstacles come into your life, if you stay in New York. Your relationships are strained. Dating, as a woman in her late twenties/early thirties, is an excruciating task; somehow I do know people who have met and fallen in love in New York but it has only presented itself to me a few times, and always accompanied by heartbreak. Money in New York is a contradiction; we never have enough of it but somehow keep on spending, because the city demands it.
In ways, New York has been very good to me. I’ve eaten some incredible meals, met brilliant people, had the chance to interact with some heavy-hitting winemakers and chefs and editors. I’ve learned fiction writing–which has made me a much better journalist–from some of the best editors and publishers in the city, and that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
But, having now found a niche (or a passion? an unwise obsession? a devotion?) within the world of wine and food writing (the path to that is too long to recount here, but this earlier blog post touches on it), it is no longer satisfying for me to be in this concrete jungle, too far from the vineyards that most inspire me at this time.
I am a hopeless francophile. I first tried to learn French when I was 12; for whatever reason, Madame Fox strongly disliked me (OK, I was a rambunctious and probably rude kid), so after one semester I switched to Spanish. But I always wanted to learn the language. When I was 20, I was living in Spain and went to visit a friend who was doing a semester of art studies in Paris. Walking in the Latin Quarter one day, I needed to use a bathroom and waltzed into a restaurant as it was just opening. The waiters tried to push me out, but I persisted. One of them, in his starched white shirt and suspenders, raised a chair overhead and threw it toward me, yelling something I didn’t understand but was probably like putain americaine de merde avec votre président du merde (effectively: screw you, American with President Bush!). Since then, I was absolutely determined: I would learn French, move back to Paris, and take that city by its literary teeth, breathing in the ghosts of all those writers and thinkers of centuries past. I would write a book in Paris.
At 20, I had no idea that I’d be writing a book about wine in Paris, but that is now what I intend to do.
This is my last week in New York. I have no idea when I’ll be back. Possibly this fall, but I’m not sure. I also don’t have every detail of the next year of my life figured out–but I am headed to Paris with a small amount of earthly possessions, most importantly this laptop and a dog-eared copy of A Moveable Feast that my brother gave me (have you read about the latest Hem biography?) and will be based there.
Believe me, I know that living in Paris will be different than visiting for a week here or there. And I also know that Paris will offer its own set of challenges and complications (such as: greetings, with the French–are we kissing once, twice, seven times, a handshake?). But I have to give this a try. The world is too unstable, corrupt, sanitized, to not at least try to pursue what you think will make you happy. If something is calling to you, the only choice is to push aside the obstacles and go toward it.
In Paris, I’ll be working on Terre Magazine, as well as writing for wine magazines in the U.S. I’ll also be trying to do some more cultural writing; I used to cover art and film openings in New York, years back, and would like to return to that in Paris. I’ll be visiting lots of vineyards this summer, you can be sure. Will be headed to Greece next week, in fact, and then to Burgundy, later in June. Slovakia and Croatia are in the scheming, also, as well as the Jura and the Loire this fall.
And I’m working on the book, I am. But first and most importantly, as soon as I get to Paris, I’m going to call my friend and ask him to pick me up on his motorcycle, and head to Septime Cave in the 11éme for an apéro. I’m going to sit down with a glass of Champagne and listen to him tell me all about what it was like to be in Paris during the recent election. I’m going to have a snack of anchovies on toast. Or maybe, we’ll grab a bottle and bring it to the canal, to soak in the sun. And I’m going to relish in the experience of feeling at home in a new place–and in the fact that if somebody does throw a chair at me now, it will hopefully be because my French is too good, but I haven’t yet lost my ability to be sassy. Madame Fox would be proud.
It’s been many months in the works–and it all started at that damn wine bar, Wildair, where I keep going back, again and again, unable to resist the funky wines, the fried shrimp dish, the raucous tattooed kitchen staff.
The hostess, as well, was incredibly friendly, and as I showed up more and more regularly, she always blessed our glasses with a much welcomed splash of Les Capriades pét-nat as we waited for our seats. Over time, I got to know her: Erika, an artist; I discovered her Instagram and fell deeply, madly in love with her wine- and food-themed gouache paintings.
Finally, I got up the courage to blurt out, as she was ushering me to my seat one night: “I’m obsessed with your work. We have to collaborate!” Being modest, she blushed and adjusted her eyeglasses. Then she said, “Sure! Give me a call,” and filled my glass. We worked together for this article about natural wine on the Lower East Side for Food Republic, but we knew there could be something bigger. We began scheming, planning, brainstorming over coffee, grain bowls, and of course, wine.
Months later, Erika and I found our third counterpart, a talented food photographer and pop-up chef named Katie (she took the fantastic photo you see here, as well as most of the shots on our Instagram/Kickstarter) and we formed Terre Mag: an indie print mag about natural wines and heritage foods.
This coming weekend, we will be representing Terre Mag at the Food Book Fair, taking place on Saturday and Sunday 12-4pm both days, at the Ace Hotel in Manhattan. For $5, you can pass through and meet tons of indie food mags like us. We’ll be giving away beautiful wine tote bags, printed with one of Erika’s original paintings, to a select handful (if you mention you saw my blog post, you’ll totally get a bag). Honestly, it’s a fun event–I’ve gone several years in a row–and a great place to meet people. So, get the F off Tinder, and go to Food Book Fair to flirt with some cool people who love to eat and drink well!
And more importantly, we need some early support for our Kickstarter!Check it out here. We have less than a month to raise $10K to get this biannual magazine going. Please go check out the Kickstarter and if you can, at least pre-order your copy of Terre Mag, and spread the word on social media (you can start by following our Instagram). Shout everywhere and anywhere about Terre Mag; your help is much appreciated.
Thank you so much!
Over and out, your fellow lover of sincere, wild, delicious terroir.
On the last weekend in April, wine lovers in New York have the opportunity to attend the wine tasting event of the year–really, it’s just too good to pass up. Unfortunately, I myself cannot attend, so please can you go and I’ll live vicariously through you? We’re talking about Wines on Wheels, an annual event where some of New York City’s most knowledgeable sommeliers (Morgan Harris, Dana Gaiser, Josh Nadel, Katia Scharnagl, Dustin Wilson–the list goes on!), retailers (Jean-Luc Le Dû), and regional winemakers (the wonderful Roman Roth of Wölffer Estate) are offering highly informative seminars and blind tasting classes, and pouring some of the best wines and most unique, formidable vintages–and it’s all for charity. 100 percent of proceeds benefit Wheeling Forward, a nonprofit that helps people with disabilities live life to the fullest. This event is the brainchild of Yannick Benjamin, an acclaimed sommelier who has never let the fact that he’s in a wheelchair deter him from doing the job he loves most, and Alex Elegudin, a disability advocate and mentor.
Also, don’t miss Victoria James’ talk on rosé--she has a fantastic new book out on drinking pink, with illustrations from Lyle Railsback of Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant! Bianca Bosker will also be there, signing copies of her book Cork Dork, which has been sparking controversies (insert awkward smiley face emoji here) left and right–so now you can ask Bianca about all these issues in person! She will no doubt be game.
It’s an all-star cast, with some killer wines. For a good cause. Skip brunch that day, and go. Saturday, April 29th. At City Winery, 155 Varick Street. Let me know what amazing wines I missed out on! (Whatever, I’m not that jealous, because I’ll be in Oregon hiking with friends and drinking Gamay. Insert big smiley emoji here.)
Recently, an article came out in the New York Times that really upset me; in fact it upset just about everyone I know and respect in the wine world. It was an opinion piece by a writer I know, someone I’m friendly with. My first reaction upon reading it was to feel betrayed. This is someone I’ve had a glass or two of wine with, and who I know attended RAW Wine Fair last fall in Brooklyn–which is partly why I reacted with confusion, rather than vitriol, at first. I wondered: did her agent persuade her to write this piece in order to get attention? (If so, congrats: it’s working, although I’m not sure it’s the kind of attention you want.) Also, do the author’s editors at the Times think they are being cute or smart, because natural wine is a so-called “trend” and it’s so adorable to be contrarian?
I think probably both of the above are true, and they are really disheartening to me. The desperation to sell a book should never lead to this kind of terrible, misguided journalism. And I know that a lot of editors and wine publicists like to call natural wine a “trend”; and flag it as some elitist circle of hipsters, and I have really had it with this attitude. Natural wine is a movement of people who believe in expressing what the earth says through grapes. True, sometimes they have a bit of a hipster swagger. And, yes, there are natural wines out there with tons of volatile acidity and perhaps they could have benefited from just a touch of sulfites. But you know what? Natural wine might be one of the last true hold-outs of free-thinking, libertarian, even slightly anarchistic political culture in the world, and for that it is beautiful. Nobody needs to ask permission to make natural wine the way they want to make it, and nobody is dying for you to like it.
At the same time, the movement does deserve recognition, and it is a good thing that it’s growing and spreading. Because for every single hectare that’s farmed without dangerous herbicides, pesticides, and fungicides, the soil is healthier, and the ecosystem is better able to thrive and to resist climate change–and the people who live and work around that vineyard are grateful. I know people like to point out copper’s harmfulness, and I also know that organic is not everything–with or without certification. Some winemakers I respect very much are not 100 percent organically farmed–but it’s not something they celebrate, as if they are proud to use chemicals. It’s the reality of the challenges of farming in certain climates. But I’ve stood in organically or biodynamically farmed vineyards, and it’s quite obvious that life is thriving within them: cover crops, butterflies, birds, rich and healthy soils are present, whereas I’ve also stood in a massive plantation of conventionally farmed Chardonnay in Sicily, at an unnamed winery’s estate, and gazed in horror at the cracked, dry, ugly ground. The difference is really just so obvious to see, and you can’t ignore it if you care about nature or the planet. Meanwhile, it’s also important to mention that “organic” or even “biodynamic” doesn’t mean a wine is made naturally; it’s still possible for additives to come into the picture. It also doesn’t mean that a wine is necessarily good.
People who work in mainstream wine PR, or older wine writers who seem befuddled by the natural wine movement, often ask me: “but how do you know it’s natural and that the winemaker isn’t lying to you? Aren’t people so easily fooled by marketing?” Here’s the thing: The natural wine movement is not about audits, or strict rules that determine whether you can be “inside” the club; it’s not even about cute labels only, although it does seem to excel in label design. The world if natural wine is, effectively, governed by relationships. Most naturally-working winemakers are part of a lineage–they worked for other producers who are in this movement. Their importers are constantly visiting them and providing insights from these visits (and I do these visits, too, whenever possible). The winemakers visit New York on a regular basis, to pour their wines and talk about what they do. There is no thick black curtain–meanwhile, corporate wineries do have such a thing, which is probably why they thought they were so clever, allowing Bianca Bosker the wine journalist to take a peek and report back to the public. Well, it’s not cute. It’s goddamn insulting. If people want to drink that shit, fine. I can’t stop anybody from eating disgusting chicken nuggets, or from buying factory-made clothes from China, either. But maybe what I can do is carve out a better space for wine writing that capitalizes on the incredible momentum that the natural wine movement has built. It’s not a trend; it’s hardly even niche any more–look at how many natural wine restaurants we’ve seen pop up around the U.S. in recent years! And they are continuing to open their doors, to much success.
One writer and natural wine importer has penned a great response to the Times opinion piece, which I really encourage you to read if you’re craving a view other than my own; he has written in an extremely approachable and sound way, and I’m grateful for it–check out Marko Kovac’s piece here.
And as some of you may know, I’m working on launching an independent print magazine this year–which will aim to produce really great, detailed, literary journalism about natural wines and terroir-driven foods. Stay tuned for details, and follow us on Instagram here.
Keep calm, carry on drinking great wine made by honest growers, join the ACLU, fuck Trump, and have a great weekend.
In our culture, bubbly wines are too often reserved for special occasions or celebrations. But I strongly believe that, first of all, every day should be celebrated just a little bit, and definitely with delicious wine and food–and secondly, sparkling wines can be handcrafted, terroir-expressive wines with incredible flavor and personality. Bubbly is also fun because it comes in so many different forms–pét-nat, true Champagne and methode champenoise, off-dry, etc–and it’s so light and fresh and delicious.
On March 15th, for one night only, I’m pairing up with chef Nick Korbee at Egg Shop in Nolita, for a special 5-course meal featuring exceptional sparkling wines, with dishes paired to go with them. (Yes, we chose the wines first, and then decided on the dishes!) It’s going to be a lot of fun–the perfect mid-week, and mid-March, pick-up–and I’d love to see you there. Tickets can be purchased via this EventBrite link; there are two seatings but space is very limited, so act quickly. If you’re the kind of person who likes to dine solo (like me!), you’ll enjoy the spots at the bar, and you can high five me as I run around the restaurant like a crazy person with magnums of Gamay rosé. Oh, and there will be a special welcome cocktail, too, courtesy of Boukman Rhum. See you there on the 15th!
Here’s the best news you’ve had in the past few weeks: New York City chefs have made a bold gesture to demonstrate that they support immigrants who live in this country, and created a way for people who are devastated by the election results to get involved in resistance. It’s a really simple idea that can have serious impact.
Over the coming months, there will be a series of ticketed “family meals” at some of the city’s best restaurants: Wildair, Olmstead, Café Altro Paradiso, and Reynard. Family meal, if you don’t know, is the communal meal served just before a restaurant staff brings into action and opens its doors. It’s something of a sacred, intimate ritual–and these meals will be focused on generating conversation about what we can do to support immigrants, and each other, during these next four years. In partnership with Bon Appetit magazine, these restaurants will be donating proceeds from these ticketed meals to various immigrant rights organizations; they are listed at the ticketing site.
Bravo to these chefs and to BA mag for finding a simple way to create community and kickstart the resistance.