Hi
this week the wine group has reservations at Sapor.
The theme is spicy Spanish from lesser known regions
of Spain. Keep in mind that Sapor charges the five
dollars a head corkage, you can R.S.V.P. to me. I
believe most everyone knows where it is so I won't be
posting the address, let me know if you need
directions though I'd be happy to oblige.
Ruth
---
FYI/FYE
March 3, 1999
A Sommelier's Little Secret: The Microwave
By WILLIAM GRIMES
A NEW question is creeping into wine service in New
York: How do you want that cooked?
For many years, Americans have confounded the rest
of the world by drinking their white wines too cold
and their red wines too warm. Sommeliers no longer
hesitate when diners ask that a luscious
Corton-Charlemagne be plunged into an ice bucket.
They just do it. It's easy.
Red wine poses a different problem, since it often
arrives at the table with a slight chill. If the
diners want their wine the temperature of a blood
transfusion, and fast, the sommelier must resort to
wiles, and the wiliest wile of all, it turns out, is
the microwave oven.
Sometimes it's the customer who wants his wine
'waved. Sometimes it's the hard-pressed sommelier
who makes the decision to go nuclear. But it
happens. There really are wines that go into that
silent chamber at 58 degrees and come out, like a
client at a tanning salon, flush with radiation and
7 to 10 degrees warmer.
''There is no way any sommelier is going to admit to
doing it,'' said Dan Perlman, the wine director at
Veritas. ''They'll say, 'I've heard of it,' like I
just did. I'm in the clear, though, because we don't
have a microwave.''
The practice is by no means widespread, or even
widely known, but it is something that happens at
even the top restaurants. Alexis Ganter, the wine
director at City Wine and Cigar, reacted with
stunned silence when informed about the microwave
trick. Then he let out a long, shuddering sigh and
moaned, ''Oh my God.''
Like other members of the ''wine is a living thing''
school, Mr. Ganter expressed deep fear of this new
technological breakthrough. Others showed a native
American willingness to at least experiment. ''It
makes sense,'' said Ralph Hersom, the wine director
at Le Cirque 2000. ''I don't see that it would harm
a wine, but I'd recommend doing it with a younger
wine.''
Still others fessed up, some expressing shame but
others not. ''I did it once when I was working at a
wine bar in Madison, Wis.,'' said Eric Zillier, the
wine director at the Hudson River Club. ''It was an
'85 Burgundy from Verget, one of my favorites, but I
made the customer, who was very insistent, swear he
would never tell anyone I did it.''
Christopher Cannon, at the Judson Grill, has used
the microwave and doesn't mind saying so. It's a
method of last resort, but it is a method that
works, and he will use it. ''I zap it for 5 to 10
seconds,'' he said. It seems more reasonable than
the customer who wanted his Gaja barbaresco served
with ice cubes.
And why not? Most Champagne houses turn their
bottles by machine, not hand. The plastic cork and
the screw top work just as well, if not better, than
a cork. So why resist the microwave?
''The microwaves are heating the water, which is the
main constituent of wine,'' said Christian E.
Butzke, an enologist at the University of California
at Davis. ''If you do that for a very brief period
-- 10 seconds maximum -- no other chemical reactions
are going to take place, and nothing will be
destroyed.''
The phenolic structure of the wine, Mr. Butzke said,
should not be disturbed by the microwaves. ''It is
awkward,'' he admitted, ''because you associate a
microwave with TV dinners.''
Wine makers, somewhat surprisingly, do not run
screaming from the room at the idea. ''It's not
something I'd do with a fine wine,'' said Richard
Draper, the wine maker at Ridge Vineyards, ''but if
it's an industrial product, which 90 percent of wine
is, it's been through a lot worse already.'' As for
fine wines, Mr. Draper said that his objection to
microwaving was philosophical rather than rational.
Some wine lovers even see magical powers in the
microwave. Richard Dean, the sommelier at the Mark
Hotel, used to serve a wine club that gathered once
a month at the Honolulu hotel where he worked. The
members were convinced that warming a red wine in
the microwave for five seconds put an extra five
years of age on the wine.
A professional to the tips of his fingers, Mr. Dean
did not laugh. He did not argue. Nor did he tell his
customers that the hotel had no microwave. He simply
disappeared with the wine, reappeared after a decent
interval, served it, and everyone was happy -- until
a rival hotel snitched on him. ''That was
embarrassing,'' he said.
The same sommeliers who shrink before the microwave
do not mind employing all sorts of nontechnological
tricks, like running a decanter under warm water
before pouring the wine in it, replacing glasses on
the table with glasses that have just come out of
the dishwasher, or even putting the bottle in the
dishwasher. Joseph Funghini, the wine director at
the Post House, said that he has wrapped a bottle in
a warm towel. Others plunge the bottle into a bucket
of warm water.
Nearly every restaurant, bending to American
preferences, has raised the storage temperature from
classic cellar temperature, which is 55 degrees, to
about 60 degrees. (Wines in long-term storage remain
at 53 degrees to 55 degrees, with a humidity of 70
percent.) ''Ninety-five percent of customers will
object to 55 degrees,'' Mr. Hersom of Le Cirque
said.
Some object to 75 degrees. ''I had a customer, very
sophisticated, who simply liked to drink red wine at
body temperature,'' said Mr. Perlman of Veritas.
''He asked that it be decanted and then placed on a
shelf above the stove.'' Mr. Perlman has a lot of
stories like that. There's the customer who wanted
the Champagne decanted, to get rid of those annoying
bubbles, and the one who wanted to add fruit juice
to his Mouton-Rothschild to make a sangria. Mr.
Perlman suggested a more modest red. The customer
said no. He wanted a good sangria.
The microwave, however, seems to be the
philosophical point of no return. Some sommeliers
simply cannot cross the threshold.
''You're destroying everything in the wine that
makes it wine,'' Mr. Zillier of the Hudson River
Club said. ''It's catastrophic.'' When informed of
Mr. Butzke's line of argument, he dug in his heels.
''Instinct tells me the fragile biochemical
ingredients are going to be affected by the highly
excited water molecules,'' he said. ''You're cooking
it. If you put wine in a saute pan to bring the
temperature up, people would laugh at you. What's
the difference?''
Convenience, for one thing. Efficiency for another.
And one thing more.
''You get a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach,
but you do these things,'' Mr. Perlman said. ''After
all, the customer is paying for the bottle of
wine.''
Now for the Gory Details: How to Nuke a Wine
THERE is a very simple way to bring a chilled wine
up a few degrees in temperature. Let it sit at room
temperature for 15 minutes. This technique, known to
the ancients, produces spectacular results with
minimal effort. But there are times when the harried
host does not have 15 minutes. That's where the
microwave comes in, for those with the nerve to put
a cherished bottle on the hot seat.
The microwave moment presents itself more frequently
than one might think. True, most people do not have
wine cellars, and therefore their wine is more
likely to need chilling than warming. They do,
however, have refrigerators. The red wine that was
left to cool off a bit can come out cold, and white
wine is almost certainly well below cellar
temperature after several hours on the shelf. This
is not a good thing. Cold helps mask the
deficiencies of a white wine, accentuating its
crispness and thirst-quenching properties, but it
kills
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