Back in April the University Settlement in NYC-- an organization dedicated to fight poverty and provide services to low income families-- held their 9th Annual Fine Wine Dinner & Auction to fundraise for their cause. Several sommeliers from around Manhattan volunteer for the night and serve a table. This was my second year volunteering at this event; here's a photo of us in action: 

For dinner, Chef Andre Soltner recreated some items from his legendary Manhattan restaurant, Lutèce (1961 - 2004). Soltner was there through the 1990s, and famously missed just 5 days of work during his 34 year tenure. Chef Jacques Torres made dessert, and, as usual, kept everyone laughing most of the night. 

One of the most memorable parts of the evening occurred during food critic Mimi Sheraton's speech when she lauded Lutèce and detailed Soltner's contributions to the culinary world. Soltner leaned into the microphone and reminded her that once she took away one of his stars. She replied, "Oh, I knew I wouldn't get through this night without you mentioning that!" It was a touching exchange between a chef and a critic, who, after decades of working for different parts of the same industry, have formed a unique friendship. 

There were many legendary bottles up for auction, but what caught my eye was a large blue book that was a part of one of the lots: an original Lutèce wine list from 1962. The list is hand written in swirling calligraphy, and the pages are cut from thick stock. 

It was amazing. The sommeliers gathered around and we practically drooled over the pages. Not only is this an incredible piece of history, but this wine list is a look into the producers and vintages that were available in Manhattan 50 years ago. It's wild to think that you could drink these legendary bottles so easily, but it is also interesting to note the limited selection compared to today's availability.   

Here are some highlights from this legendary piece of history: 

On the opening page, a letter to the diners. This is a part of a wine list that is frequently disregarded today. First, they thank the suppliers, of which there are seven:

Henry Behar, Vintage Wines
Michel Dreyfus, Dreyfus, Ashby & Co.
Robert Haas, Leeds Imports
Reginald M. Halpern, North America Wines
Herbert Kahn, Excelsior Wines and Spirits
Frank Schoonmaker, F. Schoonmaker Selections
Col. Frederick Wildman, Frederick Wildman Co.

Compare this with today's average number of suppliers: I work with 50-60 wine suppliers (of which there are sales representatives, winery representatives, and owners to meet with), 1 coffee supplier, 4 tea suppliers, and 20-25 spirit suppliers. The only way to keep it all in line is to have an organized spreadsheet. 

I find it touching to see this relationship between restaurant wine buyer and wine merchant. Today, merchants are rarely given the credit they deserve for sourcing special bottles, and I've never seen merchants thanked on a modern wine list. Perhaps it would be nice if we could return to paying these sort of respectful homages to those who source the wine for our lists. 

Then, they thank the author of "Wines of France," Alexis Lichine, for creating an "invaluable source for technical and background material." This nod highlights the access to information that we often take for granted today. 

Flip to the first page and you are greeted with a mind-blowing vertical of Lafite Rothschild dating back to the 1890s. 

Or you could choose some Haut Brion from the 1930s. 

Pre-depression Mouton, anyone? 

Here is a look into the French rose available in 1962 Manhattan. 

Flip a page, and we come to a sampling of some of the red Burgundy offerings. Only once in a while does the list mention the producer name-- it seems that the producer is listed only when it is a monopole, or when they have released a special cuvee. It does highlight the vineyard, the vineyard's class (grand cru, premier cru, etc.), and the vineyard hectare size. 

This way of writing the wine list is a look into how wine from Burgundy was (is?) perceived. Especially growing up in the US I've always had this ingrained notion that it is the producer who is paramount, and the land is second. I've wrestled with seeing this different ways, sometimes changing my mind about the importance of terroir, sometimes believing that, no, it really is the producer who is the most important. We all know that it really is a combination, but ultimately, it is hard for me to disregard the producer and think solely in terms of pieces of land because I was raised with constant subconscious messages that the producer is the most important (it's always the producer or brand on US labels that is bolded, front and center on the label, and sometimes the land source is not even mentioned).  


 

But this wine list illustrates that this is not the case everywhere. I wonder what it might have been like, growing up talking about wines almost exclusively by the pieces of land they come from. How would I think about wine differently?

This way of thinking about wine is beautiful-- it gives the land personality. It forces you to think about the land from which the grapes came, and by forcing this association, I think consumers end up respecting the product more by feeling more connected to it. When I drink Champagne I think about the hills of Champagne; I am instantly transported there, and I enjoy the experience that much more. 

But this causes confusion to the uninitiated.  I remember -- years ago-- a woman in her late 70s complained that her glass of chardonnay cost $15. I smiled and said, "Well, it is from one of the most wonderful places that chardonnay can be grown, Puligny-Montrachet." She gasped and scolded me, "Why, that's not chardonnay, that's MONTRACHET," and she told me to correct the wine list.  

As crazy as she sounded to a sommelier's ears, I undertand her confusion. 

It is only compounded by the many global producers in the early-mid 1900s who pilfered the terms "Burgundy" and "Chablis" and used them to reference vast quantities of wine from anywhere.  

All these things occurred to me as I marveled at how Soltner had organized the list. 

Then I flipped to this page. 

This page may have been the most important page on the entire list. Burgundy and Bordeaux would probably have still reached their zenith heights without being on Soltner's wine list. 

This page-- to me-- seems like a labor of love. From today's eyes, three Alsatian wines seems like a measly amount, but in the 1960s, these wines were not readily available in Manhattan. Chef Soltner (who is an Alsatian native) helped arrange for these wines to be at his restaurant. He had them brought in because it wouldn't be right to have a wine cellar without them. This page, I believe, is the primary genesis of the Alsatian wine market in the US. With this page, this wine list made history. 

As for your choice of Champagne, these were the options:

Bollinger
Krug
Moet et Chandon
Mumm's
Laurent Perrier
Pommery et Greno
Louis Roderer
Taittinger


Today we all think of these as the classics. But one of the reasons we consider many of these producers to be iconic is because Soltner put them on his wine list in 1962. 

As I flipped through these fantastic pages I became more and more amazed. This is the grandfather of all our wine lists. Decades later, the ink on these pages continue to ripple through our industry...

Punta Crena winery is truly a family affair: the Ruffino's have worked these vineyards for over half a millenia-- that's right-- over 500 years of family production. Their production is based in Varigotti-- a tiny area on the Mediterranean coast of Liguria. Today, four brothers and sisters work together and make an incredible line-up of beautiful and interesting wines, mostly from indigenous varietals. 

Cruvin is made from the rare crovino varietal (red grape), which has incredibly low yields-- so low that the Ruffinos are the only family producing wine from this grape! It's nickname in Liguria is Cruvin. 

Crovino means "to fall." These grapes will fall off of the vine as soon as they are ripe, and as the label depicts, there are often local critters eagerly awaiting this phenomenon. 

Punta Crena have vineyards on a unique form of red clay, and they work with several other rare indigenous varieties, including Mataossu. 

Winemaker David Powell bursts with personality, and so do his wines. As a former lumberjack, his barrel-chested presence fills up a room, and his wild stories can keep you entertained for hours on end. He once cut trees in the Torbreck forest of Scotland, but on returning home to Australia grew interested in winemaking and founded a winery named after his Scottish experience. An image of this beloved forest is on the label and the bottle. 

Some of the most powerful, beautiful wines I've had from Australia have been his intense syrahs ("Descendant," "Factor") and his earthy GSM ("The Steading"). This one, though, was a little different. The "Les Amis" is 100% grenache sourced from a vineyard in Greenock. The vines are 128 years old, some of the oldest grenache vines in the world!
The wine was delicate, balanced, and very complex. 
 

Originally a project for Ignatius Chan at Les Amis restaurant in Singapore, this bottling is distributed elsewhere as well. 2001 was the first vintage of this cuvee, so it was very exciting to try! 

The other night some friends and I popped a bottle of JJ Prum 1988 Bernkasteler Badstube Spatlese and it was just beautiful. The bottle drank perfectly-- those awesome tertiary aromas that riesling can have of dried leaves, mushrooms, underbrush, and dried peaches; and the texture and balance were perfection. I was instantly reminded of my recent visit there, of the gracious Prum family, and of the beautiful view of the Mosel from their front porch. 

1988 was a great vintage for Kabinetts, Spatleses, and even Ausleses; but late October rains made BAs and TBAs impossible for most producers-- though Prum was able to make one BA this vintage. Click here for a great overview of the vintage. 

Bernkasteler Badstube is 50 hectares of rocky slate. The winery, founded in 1911 by JJ Prum, is now managed by father-daughter team Manfred and Katharina, and they've been using spontaneous ferments for decades.  

I had a puzzling Burgundy the other night from Domaine des Chezeaux. The family vineyards date back to the late 1920s, and several family members with splintered holdings combined them in 1982 under the umbrella label 'Domaine des Chezeaux.' 

Their Griotte-Chambertin holding is farmed by several growers, and sometimes the grower is indicated on the label. In this case, Ponsot made the wine (you can see this in the lower right hand corner, third line up from the bottom). 

This arrangement highlights the complexities of Burgundian land-ownership. In this case a majority percentage of a Grand Cru vineyard is owned by several family members who create a company under which to market their wine. They hire local winemakers who grow the fruit and take some of it as payment. The fruit is then made into different wines- wines under the grower's label and wines under the land owner's label. The different growers producing the owner's wine may or may not be distinguished on the label. So, if it weren't for that tiny word "Ponsot" on the bottom of the label (which is only on some vintages), you might be buying a completely different wine.  And if you buy Ponsot's Griotte, you are buying the same wine as Chezeaux bottled by Domaine Ponsot.

Domaine des Chezeaux "Griotte-Chambertin" 1999 (Burgundy, France)
Aromas: funky, earthy, curry, spice, dark fruits, meaty intensity. Tertiary aromas emerging, underbrush and dried leaves, & the first hints of oxidation. On the palate, rich and full texture, with intense and balanced acidity. Loved the balance- had this with venison and it was a nice combination. 

At one of my favorite modest Thai restaurants, Honey's Thai Pavilion, they offer a few different Thai beers. The ambience is cheerful and simple, touched up with paper lanterns and Thai street art; but the importance of the ambience fades when a steaming pile of delicious curry arrives. 

Honey's is by no means a fine dining restaurant, but it is that comfortable neighborhood place that can satisfy your belly at least once a week without decimating the contents of your wallet. Honey's is owned by... a lovely lady named Honey from Thailand, and she is as sweet as.... you guessed it: honey! Her friendly staff is always smiling, and a team of Thai cooks serve up all the Thai staples you could want. 

Don't order wine unless you are into brim-filled, thick-rimmed APs topped from Barefoot magnums. Here, I always go for the beer. 

On this night, I opted for a Singha/Chang face-off; two Thai beers, blinded side-by-side. 

Singha
The Singha smelled and tasted like any generic beer made by the millions. Nothing incredibly unique or special, but better than the US Big Beer generic brands, and I wouldn't say no to a cold one on a hot day. 

Chang
Chang had a great, complex aroma of root vegetables, artichokes, thyme, bay, and a richer citrus note like Meyer lemon. Not a craft beer by any means, but this was perfect for the time/place and went great with curry. Texture was a bit richer than the Singha, and I really enjoyed this. 

The lion portrayed on the Singha label is a mythical creature in Thai Hindu legends, and the symbol on the neck of the bottle is a royal stamp that the brewery was authorized to use back in 1939. Singha has been around for almost a century, with lots of changes and growth in the last several decades. 

As a newer beer brand--being released in 1995--Chang is now the top-selling beer in Thailand, exceeding the historically popular Singha. After taste-testing, I can see why! 

Winemaker Angela Osborne has a love affair with grenache- and I have to admit it is pretty infectious!

Angela is a sweetheart who dedicates these wines to her grandmother (her name was Grace). She's from New Zealand where grenache has a difficult time growing in most of the regions. After a long search to find a place to grow her favorite grape, she ended up in California. 

What makes her wines so special? She grows grenache in biodynamic vineyards in California. She ferments the wines using partial carbonic, so the grenache is very light, and has a texture and body that would remind you of a rich pinot noir. These are some of the most delicate expressions of grenache that I have ever tried, and the aromatic complexity is ever-unfolding! 

I remember my first sniff of Luke Lambert. A couple years ago wine rep had brought an older vintage by, and when I smelled it, I couldn't believe the aromas-- it had that meaty, bacon smell that you can find in aged northern Rhone wines, but also this rocky, lingering minerality. It was so terroir driven, so bold yet clean. I instantly recognized this as something special and added it to the wine list. I was also impressed by the aging potential-- there was great balance here, whereas sometimes Aussie reds (especially the high-alcohol, explosive reds from the late 1980s) can reach their peak sooner than expected. I'd love to save up some back vintages of this and do a crazy dinner in a decade or so. 

There's been renewed interest in these wines, especially after Eric Asimov's article about cool climate Australian reds a few months back. 

Luke Lambert is among Victoria's "South Pack," a group of young winemakers who do little manipulation, opt for spontaneous ferments, and avoid fining and filtration. This wine almost seems like an homage to the Northern Rhone, and I look forward to watching the South Pack lead Australia into their next generation of winemaking. 

Yaupon
Yaupon (pronounced YO-pon) is indigenous to southeast North America.  Other names and spellings include youpon, cassina, North American Tea Plant, and the Christmas Berry tree.  Yaupon's scientific name is Ilex vomitoria (more about this shocking name later).  The plant grows like a bush and is in the holly family; technically, it is a perennial tree shrub with white flowers and red berries. Yaupon is similar and related to yerba mate (Ilex paraguariensis). 

Yaupon is the only caffine-rich tea plant native to North America. In the 1500s and 1600s, and probably long before, Native Americans living in southeast North America made a drink from yaupon. In the late 1600s yaupon was a major part of south eastern North America Native American trade (Bartram in Meyer:1976; Kravitz 2000). The drink was described by Spanish and English colonists who called the beverage "black drink" (due to its dark color) or "te del indio." 

Ilex vomitoria?
Southeastern Native Americans used yaupon as a ceremonial beverage, in some cases traveling over two hundred miles to harvest the plant (Hale 1883). In many tribes yaupon was used during a purging/cleansing ceremony to induce vomiting, and this has been described-- pretty fantastically-- in several sources:

"They are three days taking it, eating nothing," "They who have drunk eject it, which they do readily and without pain." 
(De Vaca, Cabeca: circa1530 near the Texas Gulf Coast)

In Florida, drinking large quantities of strongly brewed yaupon was used to test the strength of warriors:
"those who cannot keep it down, but whose stomachs reject it are not entrusted with any difficult commission or any military responsibility."
(Le Moyne de Morgues 1564 ,near the mouth of St. John's river on the Florida coast) 

"...the warrior, by hugging his arms across his stomach, and leaning forward, disgorges the liquor in a large stream from his mouth."
(Fairbanks, in Hudson 1979:136)

These early accounts of yaupon made it seem as if the plant had emetic properties. However, during these ceremonies the tea was brewed into a thick, dark concoction, and the warriors had fasted for days. I imagine that large quantities of a strong brew of anything could be emetic after a fast. Still, accounts of this particular use of yaupon in the ceremonies was enough to dissuade many colonists and Europeans from trying it. It also got the plant its wince-inducing scientific name: Ilex vomitoria. Some have even commented that big tea companies from Europe may have suggested the name to dissuade colonists from wanting local yaupon, to preserve their export market. Francis Putz suggests that William Aiton-- the Scottish botanist who named yaupon "Ilex vomitoria" in the late 1700s, was a secret employee of Ceylon tea merchants (Putz 2010:2). 

Colonists Reject Yaupon
Colonists drank yaupon tea, and in 1700, the tea was first brought to England. But over time, drinking yaupon became associated with being not wealthy enough to afford imported tea. Yaupon's use grew during the Civil War when imported goods were hard to come by, but decreased later when European teas were one again easy to find (Dunbar 1958:35).

Yaupon Today
A few commercial yaupon producers remained in existence (these can be confirmed on census records from the 1800s), and in the 19th century and early 20th century many people made yaupon for their own homes (Cynthia 1973; recalling making yaupon in c.1900; in Bauers 1997).

But since the 1950s nobody has made this tea available commercially. To revive this centuries-old beverage of the southern coast, Pat Garber-- a writer who lives on Ocracoke Island, N.C. for part of the year-- harvests yaupon and sells the tea on the island. This is also a tea that you can easily forage for yourself and make at home. Yaupon grows in southeastern North America and can be found in Florida, Texas,  and North Carolina. A yaupon revival is happening on Ocracoke Island in North Carolina's Outer Banks. Yaupon grows all over Ocracoke, and can be found at Springer's Point. Yaupon has high anti-oxidant levels similar to blueberries. You can read more about yaupon's health benefits here.

Here is how to make your own yaupon tea:  

Black Yaupon Tea
If you want to make black tea (not green tea):

1. I find it easiest to pick larger branches of the tree, about one foot long.
2. rinse them to clean them
3. lightly dry them
4. rustle them in a bag to lightly bruise the leaves (for me, this usually happens in my bookbag when I transport the branches after picking them)
5. leave them for a few days to dry
6. continue drying them in a 200F oven, daily for about an hour, until they reach the darkness that you desire; or, hang the branches for months in a cool, dark place to cure. 
7. remove the leaves from the branches; small twigs can be left in if desired-- historically, small twigs were an integral part of yaupon tea. 

Black yaupon tea will finish looking something like this (and you could get them even darker, if desired): 

Bibliography

Bauers, Barton M. (1997) HSJ 15(3):18.  

Cynthia [no surname given]. (1973) Seachest. Cape Hatteras High School. 

Catesby, Mark (1754) The Natural History of Florida and the Bahama Islands. 2:57 London 

Dunbar, Gary. (1958) Historical Geography of the Outer Banks. Louisiana State University Press. 

Dunes of Dare County Garden Club, Wildflower Identification Committee. (1980) Wildflowers of the Outer Banks, Kitty Hawk to Hatteras. Chapel Hill: UNC Press. 

Fairbanks, Charles H. (1979) The Function of Black Drink among the Creeks. In Hudson. 

Galle, Fred C. (1970) Hollies Native to the United States. American Horticultural Magazine. 

Hale, P.M. (1883) Woods of North Carolina. 

Hudson, Charles M., Ed. (1979) Black Drink, A Native American Tea. University of Georgia Press. 

Kravitz, Linda. (2000) The Black Drink of the Outer Banks. Research paper on display at the Ocracoke Island Museum. North Carolina. 
 
Meyer, Frederick C. (1976) Plant Cultivation in Colonial Gardens of the South. The Harvester. Spring Issue. Georgia Horticultural Society.

Putz, Francis E. Jack. (2010) Yaupon Tea has a Bad Name. The Gainesville Sun. 8 April 2010.