The good life

Note; Posts in this blog originally appeared as my column, Amuse-bouche, in the Napa Valley Register. This one is from June 2008.

 

They say you always remember your first time. Mine was 10 years ago, my very first night in Napa, with Robert Mondavi, and it was amazing.

Are you having impure thoughts? Shame on you! I’m talking about dining. About discovering the subtle and flavorful excitement of foods paired with just the right wines.

I arrived in town that June day, unpacked my bags at my temporary quarters, did my best to put together an outfit that matched the description “wine country casual” (failing utterly – I still have trouble figuring that one out) and pointed my rental car toward a dot on my tourist map called Far Niente, for a party celebrating Bob Mondavi’s 85th birthday.

That evening was the first time I sat down to dinner and found myself virtually barricaded behind an array of Riedel glasses in different shapes and sizes, awaiting the wines that would be poured to match each dish. And discovered a new revelation about the ways food and wine complement one another with every course. (Well, at least through the first three or four courses. Everything got a bit fuzzy after that.)

I’ve lived in Napa for a decade now, and have been to dozens and dozens of events such as that one, featuring a sparkling clear evening, spectacular setting, good company, superb chefs in the kitchen, the freshest possible ingredients, and of course fine wines. I’d like to say that I still am awed by it, but this impossibly high standard is met so often here that I sometimes find myself getting a bit blasé. It’s easy to believe that this seemingly effortless melding of wine, food and conviviality is the new American norm. But I know it isn’t.

It’s pure Napa. It’s what the rest of the world lusts after when they talk about the wine country lifestyle. It’s the dream that keeps all those tourists pouring onto highway 29.

It’s Robert Mondavi’s legacy to us.

If you spent more than five minutes in Bob’s company in recent years, you heard him talk about his convictions that Napa’s wines were on a par with any in the world, and that fine wines and fine food necessarily go together. (Margrit would always add “and art” to make sure he didn’t forget that other essential ingredient.) From the great chefs program to the opera house, the Oxbow School, Copia, the Mondavi winery’s concert series and the performance hall and programs at Davis, the two poured creativity, energy and money into projects that supported this vision.

They pushed and prodded Napa into becoming the lively community it is today, and I for one am deeply grateful.

I’ve heard some folks grumble that the valley is being remade for the tourists, and is becoming a playground for the wealthy – but I think they miss the point. Bob’s vision wasn’t to create the good life for a few – but to make a better life for everyone here.

Sure we have lots of high-end restaurants, expensive villas in the hills, and a wine auction so pricey that mere mortals can’t contemplate attending. But Bob knew that enjoying life isn’t about money, it’s about attitude. Those multi-course, multi-wine meals are a treat, but they’re just one small part of the picture. It doesn’t take a fairytale setting, or a private chef, or a dozen crystal goblets to make a meal special.

Sitting in my shady backyard sipping a light rosé, nibbling a hunk of local cheese, popping cherries from the farmers market and contemplating a choice of cultural activities for the evening, I know what the good life is – and that I’m living it. “Wine country lifestyle” is about making an effort to savor all the world offers, trying to bring the best to your table and your life

No wonder everyone wants to come visit.

And I want them to. With Bob gone, it’s our job now to show the world the way to a better life. That’s the best way I can think of to thank him for all he did for us.

 

* * * * *

 

All those dinners in wine country showed me a new use for my great-grandmother’s demitasse cups. They’re perfect for serving this lovely cold soup for an elegant first course. I’d pair it with a viognier or Riesling.

 

Fresh Pea Soup

 

1 tsp. unsalted butter

1 bunch scallions, white part only, finely sliced or 2-3 shallots, finely chopped, or a mixture (about 1/2 cup)

2 1/2 cups unsalted, high-quality chicken stock (preferably homemade)

2 cups fresh or frozen peas

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 Tbsp. finely chopped fresh ginger

Greek cheese-style yogurt or sour cream

Fresh mint or basil leaves, to garnish

 

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, melt the butter and add the scallions. Cook for 1-2 minutes until they start to sweat and soften (do not let them brown), then add 1/2 cup of the stock and continue to cook for another 5 minutes, until they are very soft and mushy. Add the remaining 1 1/2 cups of chicken stock and the salt and bring to a simmer. Add the peas and cook for 3 minutes. Add the cream and fresh ginger, and bring the mixture back to a simmer. Then remove from the heat.

Pour the soup into a blender and puree for about a minute. Then cool the soup quickly (to preserve the pretty green color) by pouring it into a bowl set into a larger bowl or basin filled with ice water and stirring it rapidly. Chill in the refrigerator until ready to serve.

To serve: If the chilled soup has thickened considerably, thin it with a little more cream. Fill individual demitasse cups (or shot glasses or other small serving containers), add a tiny dollop of yogurt or sour cream, and garnish with fresh mint or basil.

Serves 8.