Mission statement

"Make tasty" is a rough and imperfect English translation of the Italian verb, insaporire. Less a technique than a philosophical outlook, insaporire is about coaxing out and maximizing the true flavor of each and every ingredient. Its root, sapore, is derived from the Latin Sapia, meaning "taste". Sharing this same Latin root is the Italian word sapere, "to know."

So tasting and knowing are bound together at the root, a way of looking at the world this blog joyfully espouses.

Finally, there is an Italian phrase comprised of both these words, a phrase we embrace as our mission statement: Sapere sapore, "To find flavor."


Monday, August 16, 2010

Tailgate Burgundy

A few weeks ago, I met a friend for a few glasses of Red Burgundy in a dimly lit parking lot.  We hadn't planned it that way, but we were both on our respective ways home after long work days (we both sell wine), and he had a few bottles of Red Burgundies he'd been showing around and I happened to have some stemware samples.  The dimly lit lot at the Park 'n Ride seemed as good a place to meet as any, so we parked and swirled and enjoyed the delicate, floral perfume and minerally backbone of these wines.  The fact that this had the aura of something illicit, or at the very least, in violation of some municipal code, may have lent the wines an added appeal, but there was no doubt that these were lovely wines from start to end.  Dom. de la Vougeraie 2007 Bourgogne Grande Ordinaire "En Bollery" Terres d'en Face, redolent of violets and floral perfume and then the firm backbone that properly grown Gamay often has.  Jean Noel Gagnard 2007 Chassagne-Montrachet "L'Estimee," Pinot Noir from a village more famous for its whites, its initial hard edges giving way to suppleness and grace.  And a 2005 Roland Thevenin Santenay, showing all the hallmarks of the vintage: power, grace, layers of fruit and earth and flower and mineral, a very good wine from a village that often falls off the radar, but in a great year like 2005 can really strut its stuff. 

We were a long way from the setting normally ascribed to the wines of Burgundy: no white tablecloths, no sommeliers...we probably would have consumed these out of plastic cups if we had to.  With the dull roar of the freeway beside us and the constant lookout for police presence, it dawned on me: sometimes the wine is just good enough and the timing is just right that everything else falls by the wayside.  It doesn't always have to be perfect; sometimes good enough is just great.

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