PCC blog

Help warm your neighbors: donate sweaters and coats

Our recent spate of sunny weather lulled many of us into fantasies of springtime. Hold those thoughts, people. It's time to clean out your closets and dressers and bring clean and gently used sweaters, coats and cold weather gear to any PCC through Sunday, Feb. 12 to donate to the annual Mister Rogers' Neighborhood Sweater Drive.

That's just what Brownie Troop #42920 did as a community service project. After they combed through their own wardrobes, they enlisted the help of friends and neighbors. Check out their haul, which they recently lugged into PCC Issaquah, triumphant.

Just look at those smiles!

Their total haul:

• Kids sweaters: 40
• Kids coats: 24
• Adult sweaters: 30
• Adult coats: 23
• Scarves: 6
• Hats: 14
• Gloves/mittens: 19 pairs

What could you donate to help those in need stay cozy until spring truly does arrive? 

Corbières -- Everyday Brilliance!

The essence of a thing, the soul of a person or character of a place isn’t expressed so much in its striking qualities, its notoriety or its shining moments as it is in it the everyday, “normal” aspects of its nature. Or put differently, real magic -- true extraordinariness – is woven right into the fabric of ordinariness. Think about that…
 
In terms of wine, this idea is probably no better expressed than in Corbières, one of the largest appellations. Interestingly, Corbières lies in the heart of southern France’s Languedoc region, which, until the late 90’s was renowned as France’s “wine lake” the source of oceans of mass-produced, generally unremarkable wine.
 
Although it’s been in just the past couple decades that the reputation of wines from both Corbières and the Languedoc have changed, the evolution in quality began several decades earlier, as many independent, family-owned growers began to make wine, rather than sell their grapes to cooperatives or corporate producers. While the Languedoc and Corbières are still the source of significant quantities of bulk wine (the Gallo company’s now infamous “Red Bicyclette” for instance), the reputation of both is steadily growing as a source of terroir­ - driven wines of particularly great value. Meanwhile, a growing number boutique producers are pushing the proverbial envelope with ultra small yields and intensive viticultural practices.
 
Although the nouvelle vague of artisanal growers are producing wines that are intriguing expressions of the appellation, it’s heart and soul are found in the small, independent domaines familiales¸where the focus is on producing wines that are an honest, but affordable taste of their individual terroirs. We’re talking wines that pay the bills for the growers, everyday wines for ordinary people who have bills to pay, honest wines with soul that bring plenty of character to the table. Wines that are literally the blood of the earth, made by people who are the salt of it.
(Lucky for you, I just happen to know where you can find lovely examples of affordable, delicious Corbières). Château Maylandie and Château Ollieux Romanis both produce an array of outstanding white, rosé and red wines that range from the aforementioned “ordinary” offerings, to small cuvées of ultra-quality wines from select vineyard parcels. You’d be hard-pressed to find more everyday dinner companions more interesting or possessing more character than the “appellation” wines from either. Both offer generous aromas and flavors of dark berry fruit, with the sweetness of ripe fruit nicely balanced by notes of grape skin that segues to notes of garrigues, dusty minerals, Mediterannean pine, savory herbs and white pepper. To drink either is to experience the soul of Corbières – wild, heady, a little bit racy, simultaneously verdant and arid, scoured by the icy Northwest wine in winter and Mediterannean breezes in summer. But why take my word for it when you savor for yourself? After all, it’s the next best thing to being there!
 
 

More about: Corbières, Languedoc, red wine, wine, wine regions

Map and corkscrew!

 
In his column in last Sunday’s New York Times, Eric Asimov makes this astute observation:
 
“To drink only the best-known wines from time-honored regions is a little like eating in the same restaurants over and over. You can’t go wrong, perhaps, but without the rewards of exploration, you are missing out on so much more.” 
                     -- Eric Asimov, The New York Times, 15 January, 2012
 
It’s one of those things that should go without saying, but that’s still a great reminder — even (or especially) for those of us whose métier and avowed mission it is to boldly seek out new flavor frontiers, to boldly go…
 
Pick your metaphor — restaurants, movies, books, music, hotels, roads, vacations…. It actually takes an “act” of consciousness, a little thought, to open the doors and windows in our brains. It’s easy to get so hell-bent on the daily trudge, so dialed in on the stuff that’s supposed to be “important,” that we forget to look around, to ask questions, to see, smell, hear and taste even an nth of what’s within reach, not to mention just around the next bend. Far too easy to just go with what we know, reach for the assurance of the same ol', same ol' tried and true.
 
It also requires a little extra effort and attention to bypass the freeways of “time-honored” and renowned, keeping instead to the two-lane where homegrown, bedrock flavors grow and the dialect is purely local. But you can’t beat the scenery. Not to mention the broadening of perspective, deepening of lexicon and plain old, amazing pleasure of honing your senses with new adventures.
 
January doldrums? Sure, if you want. But winter, like anything, is what you make it. So, make it a vacation, every bottle is an opportunity. Whether it’s godello from Rias Baixas, garnacha from Catalunya, gamay from the Val d’Aosta, tannat from Argentina, Negrette from Fronton, encruzado from the Dão — or any of literally thousands of flavors just waiting to be discovered, all you need to do is choose.
 
It’s a mighty big world. Lace up your shoes, get out your map and corkscrew, get outta the door, light out and look all around … the glass is empty — fill it!
 
 
 

More about: wine, wine regions, wine varietals

The Next Big Thing

It’s a new year, a fresh page, a temporal tabula rasa, time to boldly set forth on a whole new set of adventures. I’m on the case — as soon as I get a little bit of old business off my figurative desktop.

I’ve taken to keeping a list of topics worthy of expository effort, things that arouse everything from adoration to ire, and about which I fully intend to chime in with my two pesetas worth. Someday. So, herewith, fresh from 2010’s litany of brilliant things and bright ideas postponed…
Awhile back, probably sometime early last fall, in his weekly Seattle Times column, Paul Gregutt sang the praises of mourvèdre, going so far as to predict its rise to the dizzying heights of Next Big Thing. Hmmmm. Interesting idea, but I’m not so sure.

Not that I don’t adore mourvèdre, too. When it’s good, it’s capable of a singular level of profundity, a deep, purple-flavored, animal earthiness infused with layers of pure, crystalline fruit — and terroir, garrigues, et cetera, as the particular case may be. At its best, it pulls no punches. It’s serious stuff, capable of weaving a brooding funk with floral elegance. Mourvèdre makes a statement. There’s nothing like it, and it isn’t for everyone — unless it’s dumbed-down, ripened up, stripped of character and otherwise made to fit the profile of wine-like product that qualifies any given grape as a Big Thing.

Show me mourvèdre as a Big Deal, mourvèdre as a market force, mourvèdre as Money … and I’ll show you mourvèdre that ain’t mourvèdre. Remember merlot? Once upon a time, merlot was poised as the Next Big Thing, then it was THE big thing, and finally, synonymous with non-descript-red-wine-that-sucks. Then it was syrah, with the big, fat, juicy Australian treatment serving as the model. We all know how that story ends. Say ‘syrah’ (shiraz) to your average retailer and you may as well say (shizzle). The market had a fling with pinot (perhaps a little too … precious … precocious?). Malbec seems to be the current darling, but you can already see its demise in the tea leaves as a flood of insipidity labeled as malbec rises to prominence on grocery store end displays and wine lists everywhere.

Merlot, of course, never changed, as such, in the course of its rise and fall. Neither did syrah, nor pinot, nor malbec — and neither will mourvèdre, should it become a commercial “success.” But like any good thing in the employ of those for whom the bottom line is the bottom line, merlot (and syrah, and malbec…) could only end its brief career as wine-biz darling as a washed-up has-been. Dress any good grape in full-on, big brand raiment and you can bet the vineyard that there’s no virtue that will go unsullied, no reputation untarnished.

Moral of the story? Try to be everything to everybody and you end up being nothing at all. Big Things? Why would you bother, when small can be so mighty? While I’m generally loathe to make sweeping generalizations, in the current case I’ll happily make this exception: If you want to live large, think (and drink) small.

More about: malbec, merlot, mourvedre, red wine, wine, wine varietals