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                             Let the garden
                             do the cooking!   
                                                      

It's officially hot and sunny in Crete until further
notice.  The weather forecasters can take a
few months off.  The current temperature of
32C/90F is bound to rise until the fall.  The
occasional strong winds (meltemi) will provide
relief to some and trouble for others.  

The cicadas have taken center stage in the Sounds of
Summer concert.  The children are on the beach from
morning to dusk …until their parents plead with them
to break for food and sleep.  

On the docks, the fishermen are weary from working
double time in an attempt to supply demand for fresh
seafood.  The stream of visitors seem unaware of the
crisis of dwindling fish stocks (or that the huge hotels
serve farmed seafood from the other side of the
world).    

In our organic garden, the heirloom tomatoes,
eggplant, peppers, and cucumbers are holding up to
the usual summer threats of bugs, wind, scorching
sun and drought.  It's survival of the fittest in the plant
world and we appreciate their efforts.  These
conditions magnify the flavor of fresh produce —
intensely sweet tomatoes, peppers and melon, to
name just a few of Crete's summer bounties.

The refreshing cucumbers balance out perfectly with
tomatoes in our usual horiatiki (aka village or Greek
salad).  If we do not have to cook in this weather,
there's no reason to bother!

Kali Orexi!  Nikki Rose 

Once again, a movie about grape growing, wine making and wine drinking gets it wrong.

"Based on a true story of love, victory and fermentation." Oh? Movies are notoriously bad at history, no matter how much the producers spend on artificial verisimilitude. When they spend zilch, it's embarrassing. No location shots in Paris, just three or four period Citroens to represent for "France," a yellow Gremlin for California. Everything's shot in telephoto so you can't see modern-day backgrounds, except for endless helicopter shots over lush vineyards (impossibly lush, given that the story takes place in early spring).

The woozy premise behind Bottle Shock is a blind tasting in Paris, organized in 1976 by a British wine merchant, Steven Spurrier. The top white, pitted against formidable French competition, was Chateau Montelena from Calistoga. An American red, from Stag's Leap, came in second to a classified Bordeaux. The lone journalist who covered the event, George Taber, wrote a few lines in Time that got picked up by the trades. The news made the insular French recognize that decent wine could come from Napa, thereby Changing the Course of Western Civilization.

Alan Rickman, an excellent actor, disgraces himself by portraying Spurrier as a pompous wine snob shunned by respectable Parisian wine makers. Nothing could be further from the truth. As it happens, Spurrier is a host for InTouch; here's part of his profile:

"Steven Spurrier joined the wine trade in 1964 as a trainee with Christopher & Co., London's oldest wine merchant. In 1970 he moved to Paris where he opened Les Caves de la Madeleine, which rapidly became one of the most highly regarded specialist wine shops in Paris.

"Three years later, he opened L'Academie du Vin, France's first private wine school, and went on to stage the most famous tasting in the modern history of wine, the so-called Paris Tasting of 1976, when a Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon from California scored more highly than some of the most prestigious wines of Burgundy and Bordeaux.

"In 1988 Spurrier returned to the UK, where he became a wine consultant and journalist."

So the notion that Spurrier was desperate for publicity is sheer invention, along with almost everything else in the film. Word is, he's most unhappy. The real story is in Taber's book, The Judgment of Paris (Scribner, 2005), which should make an interesting movie some day. Can't come too soon. As for Bottle Shock, despite its success at indie festivals (Sundance, SIFF), it has failed to find a commercial distributor.

Chasing last week's patriotic cocktail (generically in support of the US Olympics team), this week brings a shot for Barack Obama. It comes from longtime restaurant impressario Jackie Roberts of The Pink Door:

2 oz. Crater Lake Vodka (hand crafted American vodka from Oregon ) WHY? Because he loves America

2 oz. Freshly pressed grape juice WHY? Because he's fresh!

1/2 oz. cointreau WHY? Because he has a sweet side

1/2 oz. freshly pressed lemon juice WHY? Because he HAS to win Florida

Just a whisper of curaçao to make the drink green WHY? Because he is serious about the environment.

Coincidentally, we hope, it's also the second straight use of Blue Curaçao in this (Dubious Drinks) series. Anyway, dubbed the Obama-Rama, the cocktail is served up in a sugared martini glass garnished with a frozen grape and a tiny American flag, decorated with glitter bling by Jackie's own hand.

Will set you back ten bucks, with a dollar of that going to Obama's presidential campaign. Have one on the shaded view deck, or during the nightly cabaret performances. 

If this sounds snarky and needlessly mean-spirited, just blame the Chinese. In any event, the marketing wizards at McCormick & Schmick decreed that there would be cocktails with an Olympics theme, so the "Red White & Blue Martini" came into being.

Fortunately, barman Darrin Bengston knows his specific gravities. Raspberry purée into the bottom, followed by a shaker of Stoli Vanil and Stoli Blueberi. Float an ounce of Blue Curaçao, and voilà! The blue settles midway down the glass. Tastes like an eight-dollar popsicle.

Fortunately, too, McCormick's still has its after-10 PM happy hour menu, tasty plates under $2.

Words and Wine (www.wordsandwine.com) is a company that grew out of the idea of a couple I met two years ago at the San Francisco Writers Conference. The initial plan was for a group of writer friends to get together at our winery, stay at the bed and breakfast and write- a retreat basically.

What started as a writers vacation for them, became, for the three of us, a tour company called Words & Wine, LLC. that brings writers to the wine regions of France for organized writers retreats.

Our last one was from the 9th to the 16 of June in the Beaujolais region. We had a small group this year but it was an amazing success. We stayed at a unique and original bed and breakfast in the village of St Amour called La Paradis de Marie, Marie's Paradis. It was truly a paradis.

Our week began with an unexpected confirmation of the marriage of Cari and Harry. Our first tasting was with the town mayor who is also a wine maker. He explained to us the unique relationship St Amour has with a town in Japan in which Japanese newlyweds either visit St Amour or send their marriage certificate to the town hall to have a special St. Amour certificate made for them. They are then resisted in the town hall.

After hearing this story, M. Spay asked Harry and Cari if they'd like to have their marriage confirmed in St. Amour. After an excited yes, the group of us walked the one block at 8 pm to the town hall which is connected to the primary school. M. Spay opened the door, put on his blue, white and red sash and proceeded to re-pronounce Harry and Cari married. I translated the ceremony and we all signed as witness.

The other remarkable moment of Words and Wine Beaujolais was the visit to Jean Claude Rateau. An organic wine maker and friend of Raphael in the area of Beaune, he makes Burgundy Wine. We arrived at his winery in late afternoon. He explained that he wasn't set up to receive individual buyers as he sells mostly to large buyers, stores and restaurants. He took us into his cave where he had set up a barrel and placed some glasses and bottles on top. The bottles were demi's and unmarked. They made me think of the bottles Raph uses to send samples of wine to the wine university for testing.

He was very poetic in his description of wine and wine making which brought all of us writers a news appreciation for wine. The tasting ended with him slipping into his back cave, and coming out with a dusty, unlabeled bottle of red. He poured but wouldn't let us taste for a few minutes. He charged us with a test; we had to try to guess the year. After explaining the color, a brick red color. The smells, which were less fruity with the age.

He finally let us taste. So smooth, the wine slipped down the throat like silk. There was no spitting this gem. We all ventured a guess on the year. I believe it was Harry who came closest to the date with 1985. It was actually a 1986.

Before leaving Words and Wine, we asked everyone what was their favorite moment. Each person had a different moment but they all took away unexpected memories and a happy week.