Dreaming of Chassagne-Montrachet

Last night, I went to bed early... way too early. I was playing Call Of Duty: Black Ops when I started to feel a little hungry around 7pm. In between games, I scuttled back and forth to the kitchen, cut shallots, measured cups of rice, selected bay leaves, and opened chicken broth to whip up some rice pilaf. I had a USDA choice porterhouse steak in the fridge, and after the rice was done cooking, I took a break to make the steak. I planned on playing Call Of Duty for a few more hours, so I didn't open any wine (lest I dull my reflexes). Instead, I washed it all down with bottled water laced with Emergen-C powder.

Within an hour, I was feeling sluggish, then sleepy. I've noticed lately (ie the past couple of years) that eating a lot of rice makes me sleepy, and I suspect that it might be the precursor to diabetes. The heavy carb load overwhelms my system and I go into a food coma. I know some would say, "Well, dummy, if you know that, then why don't you just eat a smaller portion of rice?" Yeah, right. Instead, I fell asleep on my couch from 8:30pm to 3am. (So I guess when I say that I went "to bed" early," I mean "my couch.")


Most people find sleeping on my couch very comfortable, but I don't -- not compared to my pillow-top king-sized bed and down feather pillows. The initial discomfort lead to a weird dream: Danny Trejo, impersonating a police officer, pulled me over in a residential neighborhood for speeding. I had a suspicion that he wasn't really a cop because he was driving a Toyota Celica that had flashing red and blue lights on the dashboard. When he asked me for my licence and registration, I asked to see his badge. He quickly made some excuse, and then sent me on my way.

I woke up, uncomfortable because I couldn't splay out like I usually do in bed. But I was still sleepy enough that I couldn't be bothered to actually get up and go to my real bed. So I flipped over a couple of times, tucked my arm under my head, and got comfortable enough to fall back asleep. This led to my second dream.

Well, it wasn't so much a dream as it was a re-living of an evening from a few weeks ago.

Emily and I had just had dinner at the bar at Bottega in Yountville, and now we were back at my place sitting on the couch. I asked, "Red or white?" and she said, "White." I was delighted at the chance to open something white, because about 90% of the time, people opt for red wine. "Hey, is it okay if I open some white Burg?" I pulled my last bottle of 2003 "Tete de Cuvee" Chassagne-Monrachet from Verget.

I opened, poured, smelled, swirled, and then smelled again. From that moment, our little get together was instantly transformed into a memorable event.

"Oh, wow..." Emily said after deeply inhaling the wine.

She was sitting sideways at the end of the couch, snuggled into the corner pillows, with her legs tucked to the side. Her eyes closed for a few seconds after her first sip, searching for words, it seemed. But then her eyes opened and she just smiled. "Mmmmm," seemed to sum it all up.

"Oh my god," I said. "This is what chardonnay should be." Emily nodded.

My pronouncement, though, was more than a comment on the fact that I really liked this wine. I was expressing the fact that it was a seven year old chardonnay from Chassagne-Montrachet made in a style that, in my mind, is the antithesis of the California style.

When most Americans think of chardonnay, they think of young wines not more than a couple of years old. As a rule, we don't age chardonnay in this country. Indeed, most Americans don't even realize that chardonnay can be aged. I recall a day a few years ago when I was still working at the restaurant at Domaine Chandon, and one of the servers alerted me to a bottle of Chablis a guest had brought in and wanted me to open. "It's like three years old," the server said with a laugh. "You mean it's only three years old," I said, and she just gave me a confused look.

If you put my feet to the fire, I'll readily admit that Chassagne-Montrachet is my favorite region for chandonnay. Even though Puligny-Montrachet is considered more prestigious, I favor the fuller, more feminine style of Chassagne-Montrachet. This especially holds true when I compare the two regions through the lens of an older wine: I find that the bigger, more concentrated fruit in Chassagne-Montrachet helps to balance the acid in wines more than a few years old. (By the way, when I use the phrases "fuller style" or "bigger, more concentrated fruit," I'm not talking about anything approaching the California versions of those terms! I use those terms to describe the relative differences within white Burgundy.)

Anyway, back to this wine...

This 2003 Chassagne-Monrachet from Verget exhibited superb balance and elegance. Ripe (almost baked) apple, honey, almonds, and a touch of toast on the nose danced against the subtle minerality. The round acids in the background balanced freshness with maturity. The body was the perfect weight, the mouthfeel was the perfect silkiness sans unctousness.

So, yeah... that's what I dreamt about. This amazing wine was not only a beautful wine to end the year on, but it had the ability to enhance a wonderful evening. We sat, sipped on this Burgundy, talked for a few more hours by the light of my HD blu-ray fireplace, and before we knew it, it was 1am. I love that wines can be these magical potions with the power to transform a situation, and I only wish that it wasn't my last bottle of this wine.

Valrhona Chocolate Mousse in Chocolate Bags, Diced Mango, Hazlenut-Filled Pirouette Cookies, and Mint

New Years Eve was pretty quiet. In years past, I usually had to work, but even if I didn't, I don't usually celebrate NYE. In my mind, it's kind of a non-event. It's always such a let down after the countdown and everything in the world is exactly the same as it was a few seconds before.

Nicole had a few people over (including some new guy named Glen I had no idea she was dating) for a west coast pinot noir tasting and dinner. It was meant to be a potluck, so I volunteered to bring dessert. It being NYE and all, I wanted to do something fancy. But I was having trouble coming up with ideas and inspiration didn't hit until the morning of NYE.

I decided that the show piece would be chocolate "paper" bags... filled with something, I didn't know yet. I first saw this presentation many, many years ago. I guess "penny candy" (that's how old the idea is) used to be bought in miniature waxed paper bags, and pastry chefs would paint the insides of the bags with chocolate. Once the chocolate had set, they would tear away the bags and you'd have a chocolate form that looked like a little paper bag.

A few years ago, when I was working at The Restaurant at Domaine Chandon, I was reintroduced to the idea. The pastry chef would make these bags and then fill them with a raspberry milkshake and it would be served with a straw. Most people thought it was cool, but I didn't really think filling something that was supposed to look like a paper bag with a liquid made much sense.

Traditionally, the "bags" are laid on their sides and filled with berries, truffles, cookies, etc. so it looks like they're spilling out of the bag. But berries weren't in season, and I wanted something more luxurious than cookies or berries anyway. I decided to make and pipe in chocolate mousse using Valrhona chocolate, and then garnish with diced mango and a chiffonade of mint.

I guess they don't make the little waxed paper bags anymore, and instead, little cellophane bags are used. I found some at the local culinary/kitchen store here in Napa (Shackfords). They don't come folded with flat bottoms like the paper bags you use for kids' lunch bags. Instead, they are kind of like the bags that you'd buy baguettes in, where the bottom of the bag ends in a crease. To get them flat, I'd have to push a little box into the cellophane bags to form the flat bottom. I looked around my apartment for something that would be the right size. Funny enough, I found that the little box the Dom Perignon Champagne stoppers came in were the perfect size!

Once I formed all the bags, then it was a matter of melting the chocolate in a double boiler, using a pastry brush to paint the insides of each bag (making several passes), and then letting them set in the freezer. Sounds simple enough, but the whole process took almost three hours to complete 16 bags. By comparison, the chocolate mousse only took about 20 minutes to make.

Transporting the fragile chocolate bags from Napa to San Francisco was nerve wracking. I placed them in a milk crate and wedged loosely crumpled paper towels around the sides. The one thing I had going for me was the weather: it was winter, so I didn't have to worry about them melting (so long as I didn't turn on the heater in the car).

Assembling/plating the desert was pretty straightforward. Unmolding the chocolate from the cellophane is delicate business, so that took a few minutes. Aside from that, it was a snap.

Oh and those hazelnut creme filled pirouette cookies you see in the pictures? Pepperidge Farms. Yep.

Happy New Year!