Agapao Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Type: Dave's Organic Signature Blend

Roaster: Agapao

Roast: Very Dark Roast

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

He is a bold man who puts his name right on the forefront of his work for all the world to see. It is appropriate, then, that the eponymous Dave at Agapao put his name on a bold cup of coffee. Well, sometimes bold. The dark, carob-colored beverage is a blend, after all, and all of the ingredients must be allowed to come out and play. The various components take turns strutting their stuff, and the result is a delightfully dynamic breakfast beverage.

Dave's Organic Signature Blend says "very dark roast" on the package. The beans appear, indeed are, rich and oily. When brewed, they have a nutty, earthy aroma quite on the strong side. The palate is surprised, then, when it finds itself tasting an extremely smooth, light (but not buttery) coffee of mid-level intensity with some smoke, some nut, a few florals around the edges, and no acid. It finishes rich, airy, with earthy tones: precisely the point of the undulation of characteristics at which the robust, nutty aroma is ready to pick up again on the next sip.

Coffees like this are just what the doctor ordered on those mornings that find one desiring to get up-and-at-'em, but unable to muster the will to make it past the nightstand. Never mind the caffeine – it is the vibrant personality of this coffee that will befriend any adventurous soul in need of a little jolting.

Château de Péna 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Producer: Château de Péna

Name: Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Varietals: Carignan 20%; Grenache 40%; Syrah 40%

Region: Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales, France

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: September 1, 2012

ABV: 14.3%

I have a confession to make. Anyone with even the slightest sense of taste and decency will have an immediate impulse to judge me, but please, allow me to explain, as I believe that I have atoned for the sin. The confession is this: until earlier this year, I almost always tended away from French wine. It just did not do it for me. Italian wines with their soft, fruity notes, or Spanish wines with their buttery sweetness - those were for me. French wines were venerable, yes, but compared to the their smooth, warm, friendly, outgoing-yet-relaxed Mediterranean counterparts they were cold, angular, unbending, stressed and stressful. At least, that is the impression that I let myself keep, for no reason other than that it was there.

All of that changed in February. The evening of February 18, 2012, to be specific. The inestimable Lettie Teague had a wonderful article in The Wall Street Journal that weekend entitled "Saying Oui and Si to France's Most Spanish Wines" in which she explored the offerings of France's Roussillon region.

We learn in the article how it came to be that there is, indeed, an entire region of French people who identify primarily as something other than French, we learn how such a relatively small sliver of land produces more wine than the rest of the country combined (indeed, it produces more wine than most entire countries), and we learn that Roussillon makes reds, whites, and even a fortified wine. Then comes the surprise: we learn that the wines do not taste like French wine. Ms. Teague explains:

In fact, Spain may a better reference point for Roussillon than France. Tim O'Rourke, manager of Weygandt-Metzler Wines in Washington, said that he sells Roussillon wines most easily to Spanish-wine lovers. "When I talk about the Roussillon, I talk about how the wines resemble those from Spain. It's not like I'm going to sell a Burgundy lover a bottle of wine from the Roussillon," he said.

I thought to myself, "Resembles Spanish wine, eh? I like Spanish wine. Sounds like a good place to open the door into French wines for myself." So I got myself a bottle of 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge, which is made by Château de Péna in the little Roussillon commune of Cases de Pene, took my first step into Gallic oenology, and have not looked back. One day I am eschewing anything north of the Pyrenees, and the next day I am reviewing a Bordeaux. It is wonderful to have that door open to me.

The Cuvée de Peña, by the way, is exquisite. It has a very robust red color; one cannot see through it, and the hue, ironically, is Burgundy. The aroma is a complexity of red table grapes, berries, and red apple. It is not pungent, but lively and sprightly, as though the scents are especially anxious to leap from the glass right away. The wine has fruity notes of red apple, purple plum, and a touch of berry, all balanced with a little acid and tannins. With its supple body, the Cuvée is almost sensual, caressing the mouth and gliding tenderly, tantalizingly down the throat, leaving finishing notes of pomegranate and strawberry to keep one company until the next sip.

After twenty minutes of breathing, the nose is much mellowed, with aromas of peach and fresh melon. The palate is the same, though a little relaxed in the tannin and acidity departments. It is smoother now, and the same peaches and melon reappear as the Cuvée takes the plunge.

The story gets even better, by the way. When I was first shopping for the Roussillon, one bottle said "Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales," another said "Vin de Pays d'Oc," still another said "Appellation Muscat de Rivesaltes Controlée," and there were a dozen more. I had no idea what any of that meant. Just find me the one that says "Roussillon"!! I felt a little silly surrounded by scores of different wines, with labels plastered in all sorts of text, not being able to pick out which are from an entire region. So after the shopkeeper helped me find this one, I went home, researched a little, got a couple of books, researched a little more, kept up with the material by doing plenty of product testing (in the interest of education, you see), and found myself so fascinated that there was no avoiding the inevitable: I must become part of the world of wine. The result has been my enthusiastic entry into just that world by way of this website that you are reading right now.

I believe that a thank you is due Ms. Teague for both introducing me to French wine and getting me interested in the larger world of wine. It is, and promises to forever continue being, an exhilarating experience.

Choice Organic Teas Oothu Garden Green

Origins: India

Type: Green Tea 

Purveyor: Choice Organic Teas

Preparation: One teabag steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for 2:30 (as recommended on the box), sipped plain

Now here is a pleasant cup of tea. More and more often lately, tea purveyors try to make a cup of tea into more than just a cup of tea. And that collective endeavor certainly has its merits. New places are planted with tea, new styles of tea arrive, new blends and flavors are offered, and so on. Imagine if instead of the fast-paced world of tea we have now, we had a world in which the menu had not been augmented in a couple of centuries: a handful of black teas, a couple of greens, an oolong, and maybe a couple of herbals; and nothing else. Instead the tea drinking world is vibrant, growing, experimenting - in a word, thriving. I am glad that I live in this world and not an alternate.

However, nothing is perfect. There are some drawbacks to the fast pace, and notable among them is the fact that it becomes difficult sometimes to just get a nice, simple tea. Very often nowadays, a tea list will include a few standard varieties hidden among dozens and dozens of zany flavors and odd roastings, strange combinations and weird herbs. Those are all very nice, and many of them have people who think they taste good, but can't tea purveyors pay at least as much attention to tea-flavored tea?

Choice Organic Teas's Oothu Garden Green opens with a somewhat sweet nose, fruity and tannic. The palate is also tannic. It is smooth and buttery (that is to say, both rich and light), with a somewhat mild finish. This is not an intense tea. It is not malty, it is not brisk, it is not packed with a million different elements, and it is not trying for anything in particular. It is just a good brew, sort of like that one great friend who is always relaxed, level-headed, a good listener - the one who has plenty of fun but does not always feel the need to be wacky about it. When sipping the Oothu, I thought to myself how nice it is that I can have a cup of tea that I do not have to "deal with;" I can just sit back and enjoy it, letting the mind unwind and thoughts pass by without interference from all sorts of elements in my beverage.

A rare treat in a crazy world.

Stumptown Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Type: Organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh

Origin: Sumatra

Roaster: Stumptown Coffee Roasters

Varietals: Bourbon; Catimor; Jember; Typica

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

There is bucking norms, and there is bucking norms. You know what I mean. Some people are smashers, looking to destroy the order of things from within so that they can lie to the world and to themselves about the comparative worth of whatever it is that they have to bring to the table. Others seek not to tear down but to build up, to expand, to augment. Eager and sincere, they are careful not to destroy, at least not wantonly, but they have no qualms about forcing the status quo to engage in honest competition. This is, generally speaking, a good thing.

The folks at Stumptown Coffee Roasters are serious coffee people. They travel to all corners of the earth (literally) sourcing beans, roast them great, and have found much success doing so. What makes them different? They do not roast light, dark, or anywhere in between. It is a different approach entirely.

I was skeptical at first. "All our coffee is roasted for the coffee itself. It's not necessarily defined as light, medium, or dark," the gentleman in the store told me when I asked about what I was buying. It sounded like either new-age nonsense or he had no idea what he was talking about (or both). In actuality, he was being quite helpful: there, in a very neat nutshell, is Stumptown's approach.

It was described in more detail in an e-mail from Stumptown. "Our guide for roasting coffee is flavor," they explained. "Each coffee is roasted to bring out the aspects inherent in the bean which we would like to accentuate for the optimum drinking pleasure. We don't like to impart a fingerprint or a roast signature on the coffee. Instead, we prefer to highlight what makes that particular varietal or farm exciting."

I still did not quite get it. So they have different criteria than others when roasting the coffee. Surely once the bean is roasted it still fits into one or another roast profile - perhaps not the usual one, but one nonetheless? Indeed it does, in this case a medium-light. But to fixate on that is to miss the whole point in the first place. Yes, when the beans emerge from the machine they are roasted at a certain level. But that is a post-hoc observation only. Many roasters - most, I daresay - decide on a level of light, medium, or dark, set the roaster, and send the beans through. Stumptown does not care what hue of brown the beans end up. How long should this bean, of this variety, from this origin, be roasted? What flavors does it have? How can we maximize the good ones, marginalize the bad ones, and coax out some new ones? How long before some of them are lost? Can we adjust to make sure that the texture is just right? And so on and so forth.

So yes, the beans end up ochre or burnt-sienna or whatever. Big deal. They end up right. That is the point.

And indeed, the coffee is delightful. The organic Indonesia Gajah Aceh brews into a light brown liquid with a tinge of orange. It has a fruity, nutty aroma, but the palate is quite different: earthy, smoky, slightly bitter around the edges, and rather non-acidic. The coffee is on the thin side, but smooth and consistent, and it gets thicker on the finish as it goes down nice and easy.

It really does make the experience more special when I learn not just of a new coffee, but also a new thing about coffee. I suspect that the same is true for most coffee aficionados, so I encourage everyone to get a packet of Stumptown, and consider the unique mindset that went into roasting it while sipping the brew. It will not be a disappointment.

La Kiuva 2009 Arnad Montjovet

Producer: La Kiuva

Region: Arnad Montjovet, Vallée d'Aosta D.O.C., Italy

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: August 26, 2012

ABV: 12.5%

The 2009 Arnad Montjovet from La Kiuva is an excellent embodiment of the Vallée d'Aosta. Just as the picturesque valley is caught between cultures, this Arnad Montjovet cannot quite decide between personalities.

Though the Vallée d'Aosta is Italian by political tradition, the culture is particularly Alpine, more comparable to Switzerland than to anywhere else. And for good reason: the region, nestled as it is between France, Switzerland, and the rest of Italy, includes slopes of such icons as the Matterhorn, Mont Blanc (the highest peak in the Alps), and many others. About seventy percent of the people speak French, some speak Valdôtain (a distinct Romance language native to the area), and there is even a minority of Walser German speakers. These people really pay taxes to Rome and not to Bern? On the other hand, everyone speaks Italian and the region is no further from the Ligurian Coast than Manhattan is from Montauk. Alright then.

In accordance with Italian DOC regulations, Arnad Montjovet is about seventy percent Nebbiolo with a great miscellany of grapes comprising the rest. The 2009 from La Kiuva errs on the transparent side of red – limpid, almost – and with a slight but unmistakable purple tinge when viewed from the right angle. Let's call it carmine. It opens with a nice, deep berry scent. One can just smell the tannins, and some spice. When sipped, the wine proceeds to offer two versions of itself at once. It is light, fluffy, and mellow on the tongue, the way that a wine from a Mediterranean country should be. And it is spicy, very biting, on the palate, the way that a wine from a harsh, mountainous region should be. Well, which type of wine is it? Whence does it wish to come? Silly questions. It does not have to make any kind of definitive choice any more than the Vallée d'Aosta herself does, and one can be sure that neither is in any hurry to settle the question one way or the other.

The flavor notes are of fresh fruit, particularly citrus. There is a little tang to the wine, and a little sweetness as well. For the finish, the red fruits appear, as do tannins. Some bite appears on the way down; clearly, the wine does not wish to go quietly into the night, and its Alpine side is putting up a valiant struggle, but to us higher mortals it manifests as a mere amusing hint of spice.

After aerating for twenty minutes, the Arnad Montjovet has mellowed out. The easygoing side wins; evidently, even hardy mountain folk need a Mediterranean vacation after a while. The nose remains unchanged but the palate has lost its bite. The flavors and tannins float around smoothly. The finish, too, has turned pacific.

One of the benefits of a wine that cannot make up its mind is a great versatility in pairing. (One might fear that the inverse can lead to a downside, but it works out the good way with the La Kiuva.) The three dishes with which I came up are chicken parmigiana, rack of lamb, and tortellini bolognese. But truly, this Arnad Montjovet can work great with most any meat, poultry, or red sauce dish. I encourage my dear readers to discover as much for themselves.

Choice Organic Teas Celtic Breakfast

Origins: Assam; Ceylon 

Type: Black Tea

Ingredients: Assam; Ceylon

Purveyor: Choice Organic Teas

Preparation: One teabag steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for 4:30 (as recommended on the box), sipped plain

Choice Organic Teas promises that, with a "rich touch of malt from Assam," and "smooth yet striking" notes from Ceylon, the Celtic Breakfast blend will be "delightful whenever a strong cup of tea is the favored refreshment." Yes, that is certainly true.

The tea opens with a tannic and very brisk aroma. It is not fruity, and yet one gets the sense that a lemon has already been squeezed into it. The color of the tea is a very rich caramel. The first thing noticed when sipping it is a thin body, but that should by no means be misconstrued for weakness. It has a very deep, rich flavor of malt with hints of citrus, much briskness remaining from the aroma, and the tannins just keep coming. The flavor is balanced by a light and buttery texture, which is good because if it were any thicker I might have choked on all that flavor. But, the harmony works out just right.

On a whim I brewed the same teabag a second time. The tannins are mostly gone now, having used themselves up with reckless abandon the first time around, but the flavor remains strong with a brisk aroma and malty taste. Let there be no doubt: this tea is rough and tough. It has earned its tag of "a malty tea of strength."

The Celtic Breakfast blend does indeed make for a good breakfast tea. It stimulates, encourages, holds up, gets the back. It is thoroughly reliable. And thoroughly tasty. Go try some in the morning.

Equal Exchange Organic Full City Colombian

Type: Organic Full City Colombian

Origins: Colombia

Roaster: Equal Exchange

Roast: Full City Roast

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black 

Now here is a coffee with some spunk, a personality all its own. The last coffee reviewed has flavor notes of a dark roast and the body of a medium; in that sense, this is the inverse. It plays out quite wonderfully.

Equal Exchange claims that the Organic Full City Colombian is "complex & bright with citrus notes," and that promise was fulfilled immediately as I opened the bag and got a whiff of the beans. When the coffee is brewed, its aroma continues with the citric, fruity notes, and also acquires some earthy elements as well. The nose is light but pungent. The coffee is a dark brown, rich, not unlike the color of a chocolate lab I once knew. Light and buttery, the Full City Colombian is dominated mostly by floral notes, with a little bit of nuttiness. But around the edges, lest one were to forget that this is not at all a light roast (Full City is one notch toward dark after medium), there appear touches of smokiness, bitterness, roastedness. The finish repeats the light, citric, floral notes, which is really what form this coffee's heart and soul. 

The keyword here is light. This Full City Colombian is light in aroma, light in body, light in flavor, and light in finish. And yet, one does not get the experience of a light roast. It is, in fact, a dark roast, or at least medium-dark, and the aromatic grizzle that comes from roasting runs along the sides of the tongue every now and then to remind us of the fact. No, there is nothing subtle about this coffee. Its notes are lively, its flavor is bold, and its attitude is robust. And have I mentioned? It is delicious. 

This is not a coffee to mull over in the afternoon. It is good for getting oneself going. This is not in reference to the caffeine (which is at normal levels), but rather to the play of the flavor on the palate, to the air of spunk as the coffee frolics in the mouth and down the throat, all of which manifests a rather contagious strain of get-up-and-go that will inhabit the host and work wonders in stirring the mind and body onward with whatever situation may be at hand.

The White Knight 2010 California Moscato

Producer: The Other Guys

Name: The White Knight California Moscato

Varietals: Muscat of Alexandria 50%; Muscat Canelli 27%; Orange Muscat 3%; Pinot Grigio 20%

Region: Napa, California, USA

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 23, 2012

ABV: 11.5%

It is not every day that a proud New Yorker waxes poetic about the West Coast, but as my beloved readers have surely figured out by now, I will take any excuse. Of course, after tasting this wine by The Other Guys, the words flow much more easily.

Ah, California. It sort of has everything, doesn't it? Major metropolises, sprawling suburbs, gigantic farms, and acre after acre of pristine nature. Mountains, valleys, and flatlands; oceans, lakes, and desert. Naturally, this diversity extends to the lifestyles as well, and to dine in California can involve just about any dish, of any food, prepared any style, from any origin, traditional or cutting-edge, served in any setting.

But it will definitely include wine.

California has been making wine ever since the friars first ventured north from Mexico so many centuries ago. Wine is in the land there, in the air, the culture, the people's blood. The one state produces about ninety percent of the wine in the entire United States. If California were its own country, it would be the fourth-largest wine-producing nation in the world. It is emblematic of New World viticulture, and rightly so. And what could be more symbolic of the entire enterprise of California wine-making today than a nice bottle of something from Napa Valley?

Well, actually, Napa accounts for only four percent of wine made in California. But - bother the details! - it is still the most famous region in the state. And, sipping the White Knight California Moscato goes a long way to explaining why. The wine is a very pale, straw yellow, almost clear at certain angles. Its nose quite exemplifies that sweet scent for which we love Muscat. It is citric but not acidic, namely orange in this case. The palate, too, is mostly orange, but also includes some passionfruit and other tropical fruits. The wine is full-bodied; there is a small bite right as it first hits the tip of the tongue, which is the Pinot Grigio saying hello, and then it is all smooth from there. During the finish the wine starts to approach other fruit flavors. It is almost like swallowing one of those pink Starburst candies.

After breathing for twenty minutes, the wine becomes slightly altered, but is still mostly orange and very smooth. The nose acquires a hint of watermelon scent. The sipping notes are still very sweet, but the tropical flavors have left, leaving the taste more citric and a little more tart. The finish is diminished, but there are still some notes of fresh citrus, apple, and pear lurking about.

So maybe next time The Other Guys can use fifteen percent Pinot Grigio instead of twenty. Anyone not looking for such trivia will not even notice, and it is all a matter of taste anyway. The bottom line is, this sweet Muscat is absolutely delicious. Sip it lakeside in the sun; sip it where the rivers run. Sip it on a farm with hay; sip it brunching by the Bay. Sip it on a mountain summit; sip it on the beach and bum it. Sip it over in the Valley; heck, sip it anywhere in Cali. Or anywhere else, for that matter. One can hardly go wrong.

Organic Hairpoint Green Tea

Origin: China

Type: Green Tea

Style: Hairpoint

Purveyor: McNulty's

Preparation: One teaspoon steeped in about eight ounces of boiling water for 2:45, sipped plain

Of all the tea varieties, green tea is my favorite. It has the perfect balance of flavor, tannins, and body. It is healthy, delicious, and good for any occasion. The organic Hairpoint from McNulty’s is a great specimen; it tastes and feels the way a green tea ought to.

The dry leaves are a curious rendition of green. The closest hue that comes to mind is a sea green, but having endured, as tea leaves often do, a substantial extent of physical strain (steaming, rolling, drying), many of the leaves have either deepened or lightened in shade. The have not balled up, but rather twisted and curled themselves, simply unable to withstand the stress of their treatment remaining straight. Still, wrinkled and gnarled though they are, one can see that these were (and remain, where it counts), lush, healthy leaves with much to offer. Even their aroma betrays the quality of the brew to be made with them: a hint of malt, just a tad of salinity (grown near the sea, perhaps), and all of it underlined with sweetness.

When brewed, the color of the liquid is a delicate yellow with plenty of green tinge – lemongrass, one might say. The aroma is a malty sweetness, not quite that of green tea ice cream, but not far from it either. Medium-bodied, the tea is tannic, as a green tea should be. There is the slightest iota of citrus around the edges – unless that is just some more sweetness from the aroma mixing with the tannins. As green teas go, this Hairpoint is a little on the brisk and malty side. But then, it casts some lovely floral notes back to the palate as a surprise farewell token before plunging down the throat.

This is the first organic green tea that I have sipped. Whereas I certainly look forward to trying the rest of them, I am already so satisfied as to convert to this Hairpoint as my standard green tea for now. And I am glad to recommend the same to my kind readers.

Buenos Días Dixon Blend Coffee

Type: Organic Buenos Días Dixon Blend

Origins: Nicaragua Segovia 50%; Timor 50%

Roaster: Taos Roasters Coffee

Roast: Medium-Dark

Preparation: Freshly ground, French-pressed, sipped black

Taos Roasters Coffee is a roasting house that takes special pride in the high-altitude environment in which it roasts the coffee. What difference could the elevation make? According to their website, "Taos' high-altitude setting [approx. 7500ft], with its lower barometric pressure and lower boiling point, reduces the risk of scorching and preserves all of the beans' subtleties and complexities, maximizing the flavor and aroma." That sounds likely enough on the surface, though a skeptical consumer might like some proof. Good news, skeptics: I have had such proof in the form of their Buenos Días Dixon blend.

The beans have a winey aroma to them. After they brew in the press, the liquid is a delightful chocolate brown in color. The coffee offers a fruity and floral nose. It is a little smokey, but not earthy. The aroma, though not spicy, hits with a bit of pungency. Then, when I sipped it, the first thing I wrote down was, "Now we're getting down to business." The coffee, evidently having used up all of its flora in the nose, emits earthy notes onto the tongue with a vague air of bitterness. I searched for hints of fruit - none. I searched for hints of florals - nope. I searched for hints of nuttiness - nuh-uh. So, what does it taste like? Coffee. It is smooth, medium-bodied, with very low acid, and it tastes quite quintessentially like coffee. There is some nuttiness in the finish - an earthy nuttiness.

At first, before reading Taos Roasters Coffee's notes on elevation, I hypothesized that Buenos Días Dixon is a medium-dark roast, noting that the tasting notes are similar to a dark but the body is just not quite exaggerated enough for it to be a full dark. And indeed, I have received confirmation from the kind folks at the TRC that it is considered a medium-dark. But the Nicaragua Segovia is at 38 on the Agtron scale and the Timor is at 40, making this coffee almost as reasonably called a dark roast as anything else. How can something be roasted at an average of 39 and still have the aroma and structure of something close to a 50? The altitude clarifies everything. The earthy, bitter flavor demonstrates a dark roast, but without the concomitant scorching, the body is able to maintain a level of modesty. The flavor is solid without being off-the-wall. The bitterness is an air and not a center piece. In other words, one gets the benefits of darkly roasted flavor without the drawback of having to sip what in extreme cases can seem like coffee syrup.

Brilliant.