Buying good wine on the cheap

I always grab a few bottles of wine when I’m loading up on trail mix, crackers and garbanzo beans at Trader Joe’s. How can you resist that nice bottle of white Bordeaux for $6? But unless I’m making a repeat purchase or buying a label I really know and trust, I get mixed results in the glass: some bottles turn out to be swell, others I want to pour straight down the drain.

It sounds embarrassingly obvious but a recent shopping trip proved that taking the time to chat with the wine steward really makes a difference. I’d already wedged into my cart a sauvignon blanc, red Bordeaux and white blend when the steward surfaced. It was late September and I was searching for rosé, which can be tough to come by at summer’s end. But the weather was uncharacteristically warm and I thought a light, dry rose would help me hold on to summer as long as possible. Only problem was, I couldn’t find any.

The cheerful wine guy came along and since I knew what I wanted my question was easy. (The times when I’m simply browsing for something that will catch my eye—hmm, maybe a syrah, no, but how about a meritage?—I find it’s harder to ask for help without sounding hopelessly vague.) He said that they didn’t have many rosés now that cloudy days and cold nights were ahead, but he had two choices. He described the Italian Incanto Raboso rosato as very dry, a tad bitter and slightly frizzante. He cautioned that it wouldn’t pair well with sweet foods, which would exaggerate the wine’s tart qualities. He recommended turkey with cranberry sauce or a slightly spicy Asian dish. Dry, bitter and bubbly suits my palate perfectly so I jumped at the $6.99 wine (I don’t recall the name of the other rosé, but I think it was a few dollars more).

Menus and circumstances didn’t permit trying the rosato on an evening when the sun shone warmly. Instead I cracked open the white blend I’d picked up. The Tres Pinos Tierra Blanca is a blend of sauvignon blanc, gewurtztraminer, viognier and chardonnay—all great grapes that in this case did not harmonize at all. It smelled nice,  hitting both floral and citrus notes, but the finish dealt an unexpected resinous, cloying blow that rendered it undrinkable. At $4.99, you might say, what did you expect? But you can (and should be able to) buy tasty wines for five or six bucks.

I uncorked the rosato last night, even though it was chilly enough to turn the heat on for the first time in months. I actually made turkey: tenderloin cut in thick slices, dredged in flour and sauteed in butter and oil, topped with a sauce of fresh diced tomatoes, onion, basil, and handily enough, a dousing of the Tres Pinos white (undrinkable works just fine for cooking in my book). The Incanto Roboso was fantastic. Dry to the verge of chalky, lightly fizzy and very clean. My husband quipped that it was almost like drinking a subtly flavored mineral water.

We’ll spend Thanksgiving in Montana, where they’re not too keen on pink wine, but I plan to sock away a few bottles of this find for those cold nights when I crave something delicate and reminiscent of summer. And I’m going to spend more time chatting up wine stewards at grocery stores so I don’t get stuck with too many duds like the Tierra Blanca. It pays to ask.

A Tale of Two Markets

In the next couple of years, my family is likely to move to a slightly bigger house in a slightly better school district. I look forward to having a proper yard with room for lots of tomato plants and roses. It will be nice to have full-height closets that don’t require yoga contortions simply to pluck a shirt off its hanger. A second bathroom on the main floor will spare our guests from the wrath of Watson, attack cat, who guards the WC with his life when we have parties.

If only I could take my neighborhood markets with me.

From my perch in Humboldt, Pastaworks on Mississippi lies six blocks to the south. Cherry Sprout Produce Market is a few blocks to the north. Save for some overlap in plum and onion inventory, they couldn’t be more opposite. This newest Pastaworks outpost is spare and modern, with a long deli case full of sheep’s milk cheese for grating, fresh tagliatelle, every olive under the sun and my favorite bacon in the world: Nueske’s—it’s so flavorful and satisfying you only need to buy 2 strips per person, which is good since it’s like $20 per pound. Cherry Sprout has a rough concrete floor, a discordant upright piano in the corner and the occasional live show owing to the fact that the owners are all in bands.

While Pastaworks carries pricey cheeses and meats, I’ve found that you can get everything you need for a fantastic meal for very little money. On nights I don’t want to cook much, I’ll get a small container of olives, a wedge of pecorino romano, some French goat cheese, one-quarter loaf of their house foccaccia, eight ounces of fresh pasta and ten slices each of mole salami and cappicola for under $15. Once home, I can make a simple sauce for the pasta, nibble on olives and charcuterie, sip a $10 rose and feel like I’m living the high life.

Cherry Sprout is my go-to for all manner of fruits and vegetables, the occasional quart of milk and those delicious Mexican ice cream fruit bars. Much of their selection is local, some organic, and the prices are killer: Tart Jonafree apples are $1.49 per pound; kiwis 4 for a dollar; big bunches of collard greens just $1.29. I haul away about ten pounds of fruit on a weekly basis—it goes fast in our household. The owners play peek-a-boo with Cash and let him plunk away on the piano. They notice when we’ve been absent and ask about our recent travels and assignments. The owners were employees of the previous tenant, Big City Produce, who banded together to buy the business two years ago. Since then they’ve cleaned up the place and made gradual improvements, carrying fresher, higher quality produce and a more cohesive selection of dry goods. They recently got a license to sell beer and wine and just replaced the street-facing windows with more energy-efficient ones, creating a more attractive, welcoming entrance. Still, the food prices remain incredibly reasonable.

A couple of weeks ago I wandered over to Pastaworks in search of lunch, which turned out to be a very tasty slice of goat cheese-red pepper tart with a fresh peach and ginger cookie from Pearl Bakery, total cost $7. I sat outside and read the newsletter and was amazed to realize the first Pastaworks opened 26 years ago! I knew it had been around a long time but to think it opened at a time when Portland was a culinary wasteland (Genoa and the Ringside would have been about the only decent tables in town) is really something.

If you haven’t stopped by Cherry Sprout or Pastatworks, check them out. Shop strategically and you’ll be amazed how high you can pile your cart, for so little.

Start the Party

On a bike ride along lovely Willamette Drive (and by lovely I mean a frayed, sun-blasted bluff perched above the industrial sprawling Port of Portland, with views stretching across the river to the tidy downtown skyline and the emerald quilt of Forest Park) the other day, I was telling my two-year-old Cash about his older friend Cece’s upcoming birthday party. According to the invite, festivities will include a bike parade and cupcakes, two things that make us both very happy. Once he mulled this over, he began chanting: “Start the party! Start the party!”

Though that particular shindig is still days away, I’m heeding my son’s admonition to get things rolling, namely this blog. After a summer mostly dedicated to things other than work (traveling, hosting, canning, laying new carpet, rehabbing my knee, etc.) I’m afraid that if I don’t resume some form of regular toil (and what is more toilsome than writing?), I’ll never get back into the groove.

So, why do you care and why should you bother to read my blog?

I’ve lived in Portland for 12 years, during which time I’ve reviewed restaurants, researched the wine industry in the Northwest and interviewed chefs, restaurateurs, authors, bakers, brewers, architects, coffee roasters, winemakers, mixologists, farmers, etc.. Early in my career, I came to know the city the way a child becomes intimate with her immediate surroundings. As a staff writer, then editor, for Willamette Week’s arts and culture section, I attended rock shows, multi-course dinners, burlesque fashion shows, readings, sketch theater, comedy clubs, road races, whatever, all in the name of getting the story. The joys of writing for publication are the purpose and access an assignment grants. You don’t just attend an event, you experience it for others, which requires focused observation, digging around into people’s minds and hearts and a knack for zeroing in on what readers will want to know.

Now I primarily investigate the local dining scene as a free-lance writer and regular contributor to The Oregonian, co-authoring the restaurant news column Platter, critiquing restaurants for the Dining section and writing features for the paper’s magazine of food and drink, MIX. In 2007, Chronicle Books published my book “Pacific Northwest: The Ultimate Winery Guide”.

Over the years, I’ve often joked that I should start some sort of concierge or personal guide business as friends, readers and acquaintances repeatedly solicit recommendations for restaurants, wines, hair stylists, custom upholsterers, yoga classes…and more. I welcome the requests because it fires my enthusiasm anew for a favorite coffee shop, perfect butter lettuce salad, amaro-based cocktail or beloved author.

Following that old creative writing trope, I’m going to write about what I know, like and dislike. My motives, of course, are mostly egoistic. I’m self-employed and crave the demands of regular deadlines, in this case, self-imposed blog entries. But if you’re interested in food, wine, books, toddler-appropriate activities, travel or design, you might get something out of it too.