Today’s post is going to be very short. I fell victim to the mischievous swine flu last week and my engine is not 100% restored. They say booze makes everything better, so here’s a recipe for a cocktail I wish I could be enjoying on a warm tropical beach.

PINAPASSION COCKTAIL
8 mint leaves
3 pineapple chunks
2 ounces white rum
2 ounces passion fruit juice
1 ounce Orangina
Crushed ice

In a glass, muddle the mint and pineapple with a pestle. Add the ice, rum, passion fruit juice and stir well. Top with the Orangina and serve.

Enjoy responsibly

When I took my first gulp of Chapoutier Belleruche last Saturday night, I had an explosive coughing fit. Not due to any fault with the wine, which was as silkily delicious as ever; it was the revelation of the price which caused me to fear I was about to suffer a pulmonary embolism.

Family were visiting from Europe, and my brother-in-law, who works in the French wine trade, always arrives with a clinking bag containing a few vinous gems. The first bottle we pulled the cork from was the Belleruche.

Chapoutier wines are some of the ‘go-to guys’ of the wine trade. They tick so many boxes that they can be used in diverse situations. Good quality? That goes without saying. Broad range of styles? Red, whites and rosés from the length of the Rhône valley. Packaging? Classic French labels with modern clarity. Green credentials? Biodynamically farmed, with the full-on burying-a-cow-horn-filled-with-dung-during-a-full-moon treatment. Quirky story behind the wine? All Chapoutier labels are also written in Braille.

Belleruche falls under the Côtes-du-Rhône appellation, a sweeping classification that includes extremes of thin, insipid filth and rich, robust reds that deserve only the finest beef as an accompaniment, which explains why the region’s better producers try to create an individual brand name alongside the appellation monicker. Grenache and Syrah, the Rhône’s dominant red varietals, constitute the lion’s share of the Belleruche blend, and the rich, slightly smoky, black-fruit flavors and firm structure with its silky tannins evoke the gnarled old vines twisting out of the hot, stony Rhône soil. This is a wine that would be perfect with beef or pork that have been charred on the grill, and on a hot day giving it 15 minutes in the fridge will draw out a few gentle red fruit aromas and flavors.

Oh, I almost forgot, the price… Well in a culture of big-brands produced in quasi-factories by corporate behemoths, most of whose wines are over-confected, over-sweet, and essentially fruit juice for adults, you’d expect a moderately refined and complex wine from a mid-size, biodynamic, French producer to be coming in over $15, probably more. Which is why I choked when, having asked the price as I raised the glass to my lips, my brother-in-law shrugged and said, “$9.99″. And to take advantage of this utter steal of a price, check out Gotham Wines before it’s all gone.

The rule of thumb for red wine is usually to serve it at room temperature, which of course overlooks the fact that rooms often have different temperatures: I have a friend who basks in desert-style heat in his lounge all year round, while another removed his antiquated electric heaters three years ago and hasn’t got round to replacing them yet (which is why he ate Christmas dinner in his anorak last year). There are shelves packed with sommeliers’ guides and wine science that provide ideal temperatures for serving wine according to grape, region, vintage and proximity to the vernal equinox (joke) but here are the guidelines I follow at home: bigger, chewy reds with grainy tannins (richer Cabs and Merlots, Shiraz, heavier Italian reds etc) can be drunk at 60F to 63F (lower than you might expect, but this brings out the freshness of the wine’s fruit); lighter, fruitier reds (anything from delicate Beaujolais through to Pinot Noir, lighter Grenache, and various other unoaked wines) show their best side at 54F to 59F – the lighter the red wine, the more inclined I am to treat it like a white, particularly in summer.

If you’re really interested in exploring the effects of temperature on red wine (and possibly if your social life’s going through a rather quiet phase…) then try tasting three glasses of the same wine at different temperatures, say 54F, 62F and 68F. Having sampled the glasses alongside each other, you almost certainly won’t be drinking your red at the warmer end of ‘room temperature’ in the future.

If reds are generally served at a nebulous room temperature, then white wines are frequently stuck in the fridge for a few hours until they’re more chilled than George Clinton having an afternoon snooze by the pool. Serving white wines too cool mutes the fragrance and freshness that are the hallmark of so many vins blancs, delicate green fruit aromas and citrussy zestiness reduced to a bland, neutral ‘crispness’. You can use similar temperature principles for white wines as for reds: for the full-bodied whites, especially those with great dollops of vanilla oakiness or the firm structure of white Burgundies, use a higher temperature, say around 50F to 54F depending on just how rich the wine is. For refreshingly acidic Sauvignon Blanc, lighter Chardonnay, unoaked Chenin Blanc, or Riesling, drop the serving temperature to 45F to 47F. And if you’re serving Pinot Grigio, then hell, chill it as much as you want – a CIA-trained bloodhound would have trouble sniffing out aroma and flavor in most examples of this varietal.

The best way of gauging wine temperature is to use a wine thermometer. These start at about $10 and are available in plenty of wine stores, while Amazon also sell have a big range, including my (slightly pricey) favorite, the Menu Wine Thermometer.

And rosé? Well, that’s a whole blog in itself…

There are a couple of rules of thumb for summer drinks: one, tone down the alcohol content unless you want a dry mouth, thudding headache, and the possibility of a psychotic episode if booze is fused with sunstroke; and two, a drink sipped under a hot sun has to be lip-smackingly refreshing.

There is a drink that lets you observe these rules and also chucks a twist of decadence into the mix: moscato. Often derided in my home country of Britain as a sweet drink for teenage girls, in the hands of a half-decent winemaker moscato is an unmistakably adult drink, miles away from the over-syrupy sweetness of alcopops. It’s likely that the first sparkling wines ever drunk by our ancestors several millenia ago would have tasted similar to moscato – the simple fermentation techniques of Fred Flintstone aren’t too far from the gentle handling the grapes receive today. Unlike some of the elaborate conjuring found in many of today’s modern wineries – oak chips, microoxygenation, etc – moscato grapes are picked, crushed, pressed, fermented, and then fermentation is stopped when only half the sugar in the juice has been converted into alcohol. The wine is then quickly filtered and bottled.

The result? A gently sparkling – even foamy – wine with only 5 or 6% alcohol, and a delicate, grapey sweetness: this is pretty much the only wine that genuinely tastes of grapes. The bubbles add a thrill of hedonism, and the low alcohol level means you can guzzle it for long sun-drenched hours on a balcony or in the yard, munching on bowls of olives or, even better, chunks of cantaloupe or juicy tangerines.

One of Piedmont’s great vignerons, Giorgio Rivetti of La Spinetta (famous for their Albrecht Dürer rhino labels), makes a sublime Moscato d’Asti which does much to restore the somewhat battered international reputation of the “d’Asti” suffix. If most mass-produced sparkling Asti wines are noisy buzzing Fiats, this is a purring Bugatti, oozing refinement. It’s available at Morrell Wine on Rockefeller Plaza for $16.95.

Photo from www.marcarini.it

These days it seems like everyone is trying to figure out ways to save money. When it comes to wine, sometimes it’s smart to think inside of the box. Wait, I know what you are thinking and I am not talking about Franzia White Zinfandel or the atrocious Merlot usually served at art openings. There is a number of wonderful box wines out there that are a great way to save money without sacrificing quality or taste. Here are a few of my personal favorites. They are all available at Astor Wines and Spirits.

From The Tank, 3 liters $34.99 – Jenny and Francois Selections is a wine importing company that specializes in natural wines from France. Working with the Cotes du Rhone cooperative Estezargues, they have come up with a white and a red that are really incredible. The white is a blend of Grenache Blanc, Clairette, Bourboulenc and Viognier. It’s a big and rich white that has a permanent place in my fridge. The red is a classic, peppery Cotes du Rhone Blend of grenache, syrah and carignan.

Yellow+Blue, 1 liter $8.99 – Yellow and Blue imports Torrontes and Malbec from Argentina made from certified organic grapes. Matthew Cain, an importer based in Pennsylvania decided that bringing wine in a TetraPak or box was not only cheaper, but also better for the environment. The white wine made of 100% Torrontes is light and floral with a pleasant acidity, perfect for spring. The Malbec is medium bodied and slightly spicy with hints of plum and orange rind.

VRAC, 3 liters $26.99 – VRAC is a light and fruity Cotes du Rhone, perfect served with a slight chill in warmer weather. VRAC is a French term referring to something bought in bulk, appropriate for this larger format wine.

These wine are all a great deal and since they come in a box they have a much longer life span than bottled wines. The sizes they come in are also a draw as three liters correspond to four bottles at well under $10 a bottle.

Here’s a refreshing summer drink I made with all the ginger left over from my project. It’s called Gnamakoudji and pronounced “ni-ya-ma-koo-ji”. Gnamakoudji is a popular thirst quencher in west Africa, where the tropical climate is hot year round. Gnamakou means ginger in Mandinka and dji means water. So together, ginger water. It’s essentially a mint and lemon flavored ginger iced tea with a bold kick.

Ingredients

1.5-2 cups of freshly grated ginger
1.5 liters of water
4 limes or lemons juiced
1 bunch of mint
Orange blossom water
Brown sugar to taste

Place the grated ginger in a pot with 1.5 to 2 liters of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for 12 minutes. Turn off the heat and add the mint. Let the ginger and mint steep until the liquid cools down completely.

Once the liquid is cool, strain it into a pitcher. Add the sugar starting with a cup and gradually increasing the quantity until you reach your desired level of sweetness. Add the lime/lemon juice and finish with 3 caps of orange blossom water. This adds a wonderful fragrance to the beverage. Serve ice cold on a hot summer day.

Thrifty Tip: Instantly turn your gnamakoudji into a delicious ginger margarita by adding some tequila. A perfect complement to your summer barbecue. Drink responsibly!

A couple of weeks ago, Jamie wrote a post about homemade Limoncello. It was an enlightening read for me because although I knew Limoncello mostly homemade in Italy, it never occurred to me to try making my own. Especially when I can make three bottles at home for the price of a store-bought one, but also have full control over the quality, strength and sweetness of the final product.

As I cruised the web trying to further my knowledge of this Southern Italian liqueur, I came across interesting variations of the traditional recipe. One that tickled my fancy was Zenzerino, a ginger-infused version of Limoncello. Unlike Limoncello, Zenzerino calls for orange peel instead of lemon. However, I wanted to stick with the lemon flavor mainly because my palate prefers the combination of lemon and ginger. Since this is my first attempt to make Limoncello, I decided to make two batches – one of “Gi-moncello”, ginger-infused Limoncello and one of the traditional recipe (just in case the “Gi-moncello” flops). The recipe I’m using is adapted from Jamie’s and a few others I found on the internet. Since the process takes a few weeks from start to finish, I will periodically post picture updates of the progress until completion.

Ingredients
1 liter of 160-proof vodka
7 lemons
1/2 pound of ginger
2 cups of sugar
2 cups of distilled water
2 airtight containers

Soak the lemons in hot water for 5 minutes and then wash them with a vegetable brush to remove any wax.

Dry the lemons with a paper towel and remove the yellow peel with a vegetable peeler. Make sure not to get any of the white pith. If you accidentally get some white pith, scrape it off with a knife or a spoon. You can also use a Microplane grater if you own one. When you’re done with the lemons, peel and finely dice the ginger.

Place half of the lemon peels in each container. Add the ginger to one of the containers. Follow by pouring half of the vodka in each container. To ensure that each container is tightly sealed, I covered it with some adhesive plastic wrap before putting the lid on.

Leave to steep in a dark and cool place for 2-3 weeks, until the lemon peels have completely lost their color. Shake once a day, but do not open.

Never underestimate French self-belief though. When the rest of the wine-making world gets over-excited about the latest über-trendy grape variety or a new bottle closure that will change life for wine consumers forever, the Gallic response is a laconic shrug of the shoulders followed by carrying on as before. And sometimes, that is exactly the right attitude. Sure, there are dozens of boring or poor quality French wines, especially at the inexpensive end of the market, while France has also been guilty of complacency in the face of the threat posed by fine wines produced in the New World, and much of the French wine industry needs modernization, particularly its marketing. But for many French winemakers, the motto is rightly ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.

One producer who thankfully has this outlook is Chateau Charron. Since the 18th century, this chateau has been producing red and white wines in Bordeaux’s Cotes de Blaye (Thrifty Gourmet Wine Tip: reds from the Cotes de Blaye and Cotes de Bourg are a great value-for-money alternative to their more famous neighbors St-Emilion and Pomerol). White Bordeaux, a blend of Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon, is less exalted than the world’s two great Sauvignon producing regions, the Loire Valley (Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé) and New Zealand, but has many wines worthy of acclaim.

Chateau Charron 2007 treads a path between the in-your-face fruit of Kiwi Sauvignons, and the minerally elegance of Sancerre. A hefty proportion of Semillon in the blend gives it a richness with flavors of mango and lime, while the Sauvignon Blanc gives it a blast of zesty citrus fruit and crisp acidity. This is a fine food-pairing wine – it’d be perfect with lightly spicy Thai or Chinese dishes, meaty fish like roast sea bass, or would be sublime to sip in the sunshine alongside a bowl of olives or smoked almonds. And the price? It’s a steal on sale at 67 Wine on the Upper West Side for $9.99, down from $11.99. Snap up this bargain, old-school classic while you can.

A few years back I was part of a team putting together a recipe book for an Italian chef. One evening after we had downed tools, a group of us sat in the gentle evening sunshine and cracked open a bottle of decent Limoncello, a southern Italian lemon liqueur. Sipping it in the soft, warm breeze, we all agreed on two things: one, few drinks are more perfectly in harmony with the hazily carefree mood of an al-fresco summer evening; and two, that most commercial brands of Limoncello are, in terms of appearance, aroma and probably flavor, pretty similar to kitchen floor cleaner.

In southern Italy, where lemons grow in abundance, Limoncello is usually home-made. Pouring a few glasses of lemon liqueur that you’ve made yourself – using a centuries-old recipe – and enjoying them with a handful of friends is a gratifying occasion, with the same feeling of cheerful bonhomie whether you’re on the Upper West Side or the Amalfi Coast. Happily, the chef with whom we were working outlined the method for creating home-made Limoncello, so follow the steps below now and you can savor a few lazy, balmy Italian-style evenings with friends later this summer:

• Take 6 unwaxed lemons and soak them in a bowl of cold water for an hour, then remove them and dry with kitchen paper
• Use a peeler to peel the rind away from the lemons, but don’t remove the white pith
• Get a large jar and put the lemon rind in, pour over 75cl of vodka and cover (use a high-proof vodka as it will be diluted later). Leave in a dark place for 20 days
• After this time, place 8oz of superfine sugar and 12oz of bottled water in a saucepan, bring to the boil and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Turn of the heat, cover and leave until it’s cold
• Add the cold sugar mixture to the lemon/vodka mixture, strain, and then place in one or two sterilized bottles, seal them, and leave in a cold, dark place for a week
• Serve chilled, and keep in the refrigerator once opened

We’ve all had the experience. Slamming the apartment door on the world after a miserable week at work, grabbing that special bottle of wine you’ve been saving from the rack, yanking the cork from the bottle with a satisfying pop, pouring it out and… The unmistakable aroma of rotten eggs. It’s corked. Ruined. Pour it down the sink, head angrily to the liquor store and hand over a few hard-earned dollars for another bottle.

But sometimes, another bottle isn’t necessary. The word ‘corked’ is an umbrella term for several different faults that can affect a wine, sometimes making it merely dull to drink, other times turning it to vinegar. The rotten egg smell is the signature of hydrogen sulfide, one of the winemaker’s oldest foes. In the winery, wine can be passed through copper pipes to eliminate any trace of hydrogen sulfide, but for various reasons copper has fallen out of favour with winemakers, so it’s up to us as wine drinkers to take action where possible rather than tearfully pouring the stinky liquid away.

When you sniff the rotten egg odor in your wine, get a couple of one cent coins – these are coated in copper – and drop them into your glass of wine (probably best to rinse them under a tap first – you don’t know in whose sweaty hands they’ve been clasped). The copper on the coin removes the sulfide by reacting with it to create copper sulfide, an insoluble black precipitate that will sink to the bottom of the glass almost immediately.

Foul aroma banished, wine rescued, money saved. Time to kick back, drink, and leave the working week far behind…