Flipping the Bird

Tim Barnes, The Last Supper, 2003

I love Thanksgiving—time spent with friends and family, remembering what it is that we’re thankful for. But truth be told, it’s the condiments and side salads that pique my palate. The bird I can take or leave. Engineered like a Malibu Barbie®, the modern day turkey is all breast, no brain, and dare I say lacking in taste? While many assert that Nirvana is to be found through brining, basting, barbequing, broiling, and even deep fat frying, they all seem like so many variations on an insipid theme.

Last year however, as we prepared to host dinner for twenty, my wife happened upon a Martha Stewart recipe that changed our Thanksgivings forever. We ordered our turkey from the local butcher and had the breast, legs and wings removed intact. Once home, we opened the breast on the counter like a book and then butterflied it again on either side so that there were now four panels. With gentle pounding, it became flat and even, about ¾” thick and two feet wide. We then coated the top with sausage and pecan stuffing, rolled the breast like a cinnamon roll, rewrapped it in the skin and covered it with cheesecloth. We trussed the whole affair with string, and voila—it was ready for the oven. The legs and wings, meanwhile, braised in the slow cooker with white wine, chicken broth, and herbs. Sound difficult? It’s not. And because the white and dark meat cook independently of one another, the breast stays moist and the dark meat falls off the bone.

The upside? Flavor, flavor, flavor. This log of savory goodness is easy to prepare and only requires an hour of cooking time (the braised dark meat cooks for about 6 hours). If you dislike carving and its requisite refresher course in anatomy, you’ll appreciate the ease in serving this turkey and the beauty of its presentation.  And for that, I give thanks.

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If you’re willing to rethink your holiday fare, then may I suggest a new accompaniment? Like Pinot Noir and Champagne, sommeliers know that Dry Riesling is a go-to wine for a host of comestibles. Its fruit and acidity enable it to stand up equally to tart cranberry sauce, earthy bird and creamy gravy. On a recent business trip, Sloane and I stopped at Trefethen—one of the few Napa Valley wineries to produce Dry Riesling. That’s due in part to their Carneros location, which tends to be cooler.  The 2008 Trefethen Oak Knoll District Dry Riesling should be served just below room temperature. Any colder, and you run the risk of muting the aromatics and flavors of this mouth watering white. It is very pale and elegant in color, with a beautiful nose of lime, stone fruit and jasmine. The palate has a zippy core of acidity running through the intense lemon, lime and mineral notes. The finish is long and rounds out nicely at the end. Unlike many whites, Riesling will age for years, oftentimes evolving in flavor. Zeke Neeley—winemaker at Trefethen—notes that the optimal age for a Riesling is subjective. He feels his wine hits its peak about five years after bottling, in which time it will develop iconic petrol aromas. His wife however, prefers the wine young and crisp. Either way, it’s a fantastic pairing with turkey.

A Constellation to Call My Own

“My wines are like a person. They talk, they change, they tell you something different every sip. They taste different from one day to the next, from one hour to the next. That kind of complexity is what makes wine interesting.”

In 1970’s, San Francisco gallery owner Sean Thackrey left behind his career as a dealer of Nineteenth Century French photography and began making wine. His education did not come from UC Davis, nor from any traditional studies of oenology. Instead, Thackrey began to collect ancient and Medieval texts on the subject, opting for an approach that would yield wine that differed greatly from what was abundantly available.

In 1979 Thackrey bottled his first wine, a Bordelais blend of Cabernet and Merlot sourced from Napa Valley’s Fay Vineyard. While this first attempt was of sufficient quality to reaffirm his change in vocation, he nevertheless would shift direction, making the observation that Napa Valley style wines did not fascinate him. “They’re just too damn polite for me. Why drink a wine that you wouldn’t like if it were a person? It’s like sitting next to someone and everything they say has to be so proper.”

Thackrey turned to Mourvédre and Petit Sirah—two grapes which at that time, did not have the status and popularity they now enjoy. Both were generally used in blending cuvées, and were rarely bottled as stand alones. And while the American wine landscape became enamored of terroir —the sense of place imparted by a specific location—Thackrey dismissed its importance, favoring an alchemist’s approach. Pleiades, which comprises about 60% of his annual 5,000 case production, is based on a shifting blend of grapes such as Carignane, Barbera, Mourvedre, Syrah, Sangiovese, and Viognier. These are strange bedfellows to be sure, but then this perfumey gem tastes nothing like anything I’ve had before or since.

At the age of  67, Sean Thackrey produces five wines, all named for constellations. His fascination with the patterns we impose onto nature, draws an interesting parallel to the intellectual curiosity he exercises when blending grapes and making bits of heaven. Sean Thackrey is a Renaissance man—he speaks seven languages, is an expert on and a collector of 19^th Century photography, is a photographer himself. Today he maintains one of the World’s largest collections of ancient and Medieval texts on the subject of wine—the very same manuscripts from which he learned his craft.

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I managed to get my hands on a couple bottles each of the 2006 Sean Thackrey Sirius Petite Sirah and the 2003 Sean Thackrey Aquila Sangiovese Eaglepoint Ranch Mendocino. Because the Petite Sirah is expected to cellar for 20-30 years (take that, first growth Bordeaux), I opted to open the Sangiovese. This red is stunning and full of the surreal and heady attributes that I enjoy in the Pleiades, but with additional complexity, depth and savoriness that make this far more food-friendly and sophisticated. This deep scarlet wine immediately offers a perfumey nose of eucalyptus, chocolate and malt. The body is glassy and Pinot-like, but with an extra viscosity that the glycerin note lends.  Raspberry, eucalyptus, cocoa, tart cherry and a hint of smoke continually trade off on the palate.  The structure is seamless and perfectly integrates fruit, tannins and acidity into a supple experience with a long, long finish. This is most unusual—I am absolutely blown away.

Let’s Go Dutch

Piet Mondrian, Self Portrait, c.1900

Joel Bass, fine artist, builder and and instructor at Art Center College of Design, gave an assignment that lasted the better part of a semester: take a sheet of black cover stock, trim out a series of ¼” wide strips, and create a grid of 5-7 rectilinear shapes, such that no one intersection or space becomes more important than another. It sounds like a simple proposition, but this is difficult to achieve.

We’re all familiar with Piet Mondrian’s iconic paintings based on a similar premise. His linear compositions have become a part of American culture, whether as the modular wall on Ray and Charles Eames’ Case Study House No. 8, or the expression of Pop Culture painted by Mick Haggerty in Mickey Mondrian.

Mick Haggerty, Mickey Mondrian, 1976

Mondrian, Dutch, was born into a Calvanist society in the late 19th Century. His uncle was a commercial painter; his father an amateur. His early work reflected the tradition inherent in his surroundings. But when Mondrian was introduced to meditation and Theosophy in 1909, he began to pare down and clarify his point of view.

Theosophy held that horizontals represented femininity and worldliness. Vertical lines were the symbol of masculinity and spirituality. Mondrian’s traditional landscapes gave way to stylized trees with strong vertical and horizontal themes. Eventually the trees would disappear, allowing Mondrian to focus solely on the balance of vertical, horizontal, space and tone. The well considered balance, the honesty of intent, the sum total of Mondrian’s experience would create compositions of enduring resonance.

Piet Mondrian, Composition II in Red, Blue, and Yellow, 1930

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Wine, like art, takes many forms. There is much enjoyment in the exploration of highly detailed aromas and flavors. But there is also pleasure to be had in wine that is crafted with fewer elements, where balance and proportion cannot hide behind a veil of complexity. The 2007 Franck Millet Sancerre, Insolite falls into the second category. This Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley is a pale greenish gold, with a nose of Pippin apple, lemons and lime zest. An initial hit of Meyer lemon and lime folds in on the mid-palate, yielding a fantastic note of sea salt and a long, mouth-watering finish. As the wine opens up, a hint of slate enters the mix. My wife Sloane and I like to pair this with The Barefoot Contessa’s Chicken Picatta (an extremely easy recipe). The experience is sublime.

Form Follows Function

Crown Hall, Mies van der Rohe

“Form follows function.”  So proclaimed Louis Sullivan, in a phrase that would become the trend-changing mantra of modern design. What does this mean? For architects such as Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius and Mies van der Rohe, it meant the celebration of functional integrity at its purest, and a dismissal of ornamentation for ornamentation’s sake.  For the industrial designers of the 20th century, it meant economy of form, and an honesty in the use of materials. Artists such as Marcel Duchamp and Andy Warhol would come to express an appreciation of the everyday object at it’s best. And music? Groundbreakers such as Steve Reich and Philip Glass would redirect the listener’s experience through the use of gradual change, and a focus on smaller phrases that were often repeated. While these ideas were shocking in their infancy, they have shaped our culture as we experience it today. Simply put, that which is not essential becomes a distraction.

So how does this translate to wine? Many wineries now produce wine for immediate consumption, mass appeal, a “wow factor”. Overly oaked, they contain high levels of alcohol and sugar that overwhelm the tongue, leaving little to the imagination.

Does this become ornamentation for ornamentation’s sake? That depends. If your intent is to enjoy wine that imparts a sense of “place” and becomes a harmonious participant in the course of a meal, then these New World “fruit-bombs” are likely to be the bull in a china shop. But when vintners draw upon integrity of form and honesty in their use of materials, wine takes a truly functional (and beautiful) form.

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Husband and wife winemakers Mike and Tina Cox, marry form and function in their 2005 Mayro-Murdick Pinot Noir, Carneros. This stellar wine combines the structure of a French Burgundy with the fruit of a California Pinot, making for a versatile red that is equally successful as a stand alone aperitif or as the accompaniment to a wide range of dishes. Crystal clear and garnet in coloration, this wine has a generous nose of mulled cherry and rose petal, with the faintest whiff of barnyard. The palate of juicy cherry and strawberry rhubarb pie picks up a hint of orange zest on the nice, long finish. The frame is super supple, with great balance and seamless tannins. This just keeps getting better.

A Map of the Universe

The Path, Dan McCaw

For many years, Irish-born painter Dan McCaw taught figure painting at Art Center. His technique was based on mixing together every color on the palette, making a neutral that would then be added to each color as it was applied. What that meant, was that an overarching harmony was built into each painting, since every color now had something in common with every other color that was used.

The Fibonacci Series is much like that neutral from McCaw’s paintings, in that it describes the harmony between ourselves and everything we see and know. The Fibonacci Series is the anatomy, the DNA, the underlying architecture, the infinite map of the Universe. It describes the twist in the long bones of our bodies, giving them greater strength. It describes the nautilus form that water takes when going down a drain. It is the number series that shows the growth of populations, or the increasing numbers of seeds in each successive ring of a sunflower. While the Fibonacci Series is named for Leonardo Fibonacci, a 16^th Century mathematician, its appreciation informed the design of the Parthenon some 2,000 years prior. The Fibonacci Series is present in the proportions of classical Greek urns, the crescendo in Mozart’s Requiem; it is the point at which the hands of God and Adam meet on the vault of the Sistine Chapel.

Seventeen years ago, Sloane and I considered names for our nascent business. We were surrounded by design that was purely ornamental, but sought work that built upon the lessons of Art History, Architecture and the Life Sciences. Hence, the name Fibonacci. For us, design without structure, without concept, without meaning, has a short lifespan and a deficit of value. Design that connects is timeless.

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While you relax and consider the structure of the infinite, enjoy a glass of the 2007 Fabre Montmayour Malbec Gran Reserva. This Argentine red is dark and rich, with the super polished, glassy structure of a top drawer zinfandel. Its nose of blackberry and cookie, lead into a palate of blackberry, blueberry, sweet coffee, maple and dried rose petal. The finish lasts a good long time, and the 14.5% alcohol seems right in line with what this balanced, food friendly wine has to offer.