Days of wine and roses
Days of wine and roses laugh and run away, like a child at play… — Johnny Mercer
I imagine a pleasant man, large and ample. He is seated in the pantheon of gods. Zeus has his brow furrowed deep in thought — how must he wield his lightning rod? Athena, to his right, strong and steadfast, just and measured. Aphrodite is preening herself, twirling her golden curls in her honey-toned fingers as she purses her lips and daydreams about romance. Poseidon angrily contemplates his trident; perhaps it needs to be polished. Hestia is off somewhere baking cookies and Hermes is cooking up some tricks to play on her. There he sits, Dionysius, wondering at what a boring bunch they are.
He peers into his golden glass of wine, inhaling and proclaiming to himself, “Ah! Sweet nectar that saves me from this boredom.” He gets up languidly, robes rustling loudly in the deafening muffled silence of the room. The balcony is perched up high on Mount Olympus, so high no mortal can ever reach the wondrous place no matter how high he climbs. He peers down across the wispy clouds. “Poor mortal souls. Trudging and toiling. Anguishing over what next punishment Zeus will bring to them.” He takes another sip. The wine is smooth and for a moment brings him joy. He thinks he should share. He thinks these mortal men need some relief from the trials of their boring little lives, so he tips his glass and lets it spill forth.
The ginger-spiced French toast. Photos taken with a Canon Ixus That day in ancient Greece it rained wine. Tiny glittering red droplets like rubies fell from the sky. The people thought it was the gods at war, shedding blood and when by chance they tasted the sweet liquid, they realized it was a gift. Where the drops fell, vines bloomed and flourished, and people never found themselves in despair again.
Meanwhile, on the island of Samos, many years later, a man named Epicurus had decided to immortalize and intellectualize Dionysius’ intentions. He gathered a small following of people and convinced them that “It is not what we have but what we enjoy that constitutes our abundance.” Far from hedonism or the mistaken pleasure-seeking philosophy, he taught people to remove angst and desire from their lives in order to be happy. Pleasure was not material nor fleeting, true pleasure was an overall sense of wellbeing. He placed the utmost importance on friendship, and that the best way to cultivate it was through food and wine.
Despite my creative rendition of the origins of wine and extremely summarized philosophy lesson, some thousands of years later, on the island of Luzon, some two continents away, small groups gather and indirectly honor the legacy of Dionysius and Epicurus. Over clinking glasses and silver forks, conversations are strung together as a basis for future friendships.
Musical Oenology
Juan Carlos de Terry may seem at first aloof and even wary of journalists, but pick the right subject and he is one of the most passionate and knowledgeable people in town about the small pleasures in life. Not too long ago he organized something very special. Highlighting the legendary Vega Sicilia Spanish wine estate and their sister wineries in Hungary, he organized a dinner that not only paired wines with the dishes but with music. Ah, the ultimate escape without physical movement. To be transported to a land where gypsies roam and nomadic cultures collide, the sun is hot, the bougainvilleas are magenta and flamenco is in the air. A cool, dry Hungarian Tokaji is refreshing in the scorching heat. The choice of Flamenco Fodrock by Varga János played by a Hungarian band is an apt reflection of the Spanish-run estate in Hungary. It was a unique experience as Tokaji had only presented itself to me thus far as sweet and honeyed, a pleasant dessert wine. The sweet nose in contrast to the dryness and acidity in the mouth was astonishing. It was paired nicely with the salted codfish à la niçoise.
The salted cod à la niçoise The dinner itself was a symphony. Each piece of music played carefully selected to best represent the imagery behind the wines. The overture with the Hungarian whites; youth and vibrancy with the newer vintages — Pintia and Alión — gung ho, powerful and daring, the music was contemporary. The standout? Fuga y Misterio by Michel Camilo on piano and Tomatito on guitar. Then the classics would not be outshined as the Valbuena and Unico Riserva were served with finesse. Full bodied, fiery and yet refined, these wines matured slowly but surely to their full potential, as they sat wisely in my glass. Each minute exposed to the deathly oxygen, poetic in their swansong towards a glorious death. The evening ended in drama as Franz Liszt’s aptly named Harmonies du Soir serenaded us in melancholic nostalgia and the Oremus Tokaji Aszu bathed us in bittersweet delight. It was thick and rich, and truly married well with buttery ginger-spiced pain perdu — French toast. I went home lost like that bread, lost in my thoughts and in my senses. Having thoroughly enjoyed the company — liquid, musical and human — both familiar and new.
On dining, Wine and Women
What makes all the difference between having an All About Eve moment and a pleasant evening? It’s the wine and dining. The light is soft, the décor is contemporary and classy. The women are dressed finely and the candlelight reflects prettily off the clear crystal goblets and onto their faces. There is nothing overdone, no judging looks, whispered gossipy comments or catty hisses. The ambience is rare for a room full of women. It is pleasant, warm and welcoming. Smiles are everywhere, conversations flow freely and transcend generations, occupations and even warring publishing houses. Ah, the magic of wine, that gift from Dionysius that brings people together.
I was over the moon to be invited so graciously by Nana Ozaeta to this 10th-year anniversary celebration of the Philippine Ladies Chapter of the International Wine and Food Society. Events like these make me feel like it’s the first day of school. Anxious and excited, how far on the sidelines do you stay but also how much of an impact do you make? The perfect balance can be difficult in a room full of new faces, but as always there is a common thread that instantly binds us all — this unwavering love for good food and good wine. The nametags helped immensely, too!
The Ladies of IWFS: Eileen Batac, Nicole Morris, Sevrine Miailhe, Bunny Fabella, president Nana Ozaeta, and Felicia Atienza The evening started with a fine Prosecco, the bubbles so tiny they formed a lasting soft mousse clinging to the glass’ elegant curves like sea foam washed on a shore. The Follador Prosecco di Valdobbiadene was perhaps the finest Prosecco I’ve ever tried. Surpassing the likes of commercial champagne, this is no second best, even incomparable as it upholds its appellation firmly and proudly. At the table, the excitement buzzed around the burrata. Flown in from Italy, generous portions were piled high onto the plates served with possibly the reddest tomatoes one can find on this side of the world. The Pinot Grigio was just how I liked it, cold, crisp and young. Despite the chaotic traffic, torrential rains and ominous typhoon, the wine and the food transported me to Naples. I’m sitting at the port with my mother waiting for the ferry to take us to Capri. The sun shines brightly and the wind smells of the sea. Seagulls caw and there’s the repetitive sound of clunking boats in the water. The fine moment of an insalata di Caprese and the refreshing white wine.
The pasta was enjoyable and so was the Rosso di Montalcino, but I would be lying if I wrote praises in prose because the main course just simply outshined it all. Antinori braised beef cheeks, a pillow of rich, meaty love, soft, tender and buttery. No need to chew, just swallow. It was simple and breathtaking, executed to perfection. Chef Tippi Tambunting outdid herself and I’ve always admired her matter-of-factness on the plate. A “super Tuscan,” as Jojo Labrador put it, was served: Gaja Promis 2008, mostly merlot and syrah grapes, forceful, hot-blooded and romantic like an Italian lover.
The genius behind the music and wine pairing: Sharing a laugh with Juan Carlos de Terry Ladies discussed their food stories and how they loved to dine and wine themselves in style. Meeting Felice Prudente Sta. Maria was a hope fulfilled … to find someone so passionate about the origins of food and not just how it is cooked but why it is there. There was an anecdote about flirting with the butcher to get the best cuts of jamon Iberico or calling the Algerian fruit vendor “habibi” to get a little more strawberries. The evening had begun with warmth and welcome and had ended with friendship. Epicurus would have been proud.
As I sit and write my article in my office on this blustery day, I’m transported. The simple exercise of remembering these epicurean moments, these “days of wine and roses,” has brought a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. To wrap things up, I don’t think there could be anything more fitting than this quote by Charles Monselet: “The pleasantest hours of life are all connected … with some memory of the table.”
