Sunday, June 5, 2011

Bad weather. Good cookies.


What do you do when it's June, but temperatures are running twenty degrees below normal and it's pouring rain, you're confined to indoors and there's no outdoor dining in sight for the next few days? Make cookies, of course!

These use a positively decadent amount of chocolate chips. They melt, they ooze, they stick to your fingers and have to be licked off. You will eat too many warm cookies and ruin your appetite, then eat too many again for dessert. You'll add some more to go with your coffee. In the process, you'll forget about the weather and sit back with a smile on your face and stretch marks on your belly.

Put them out and watch friends eat a normal amount, then sidle up to the cookie plate and slyly pluck another cookie as clandestinely as they can. Then another. Then they'll try some kind of sleight of hand, making the cookies disappear without appearing to move. Eventually, you'll catch them at it and they'll reward you with a classic grin and a half shrug, probably the same thing they did as children when caught in the same act.

So, here's the magic formula. It transforms skinny people into round people, makes them forget about the rain, and gives grown adults an excuse to lick their fingers. It's adapted from a cookbook recipe, now evolved so far that it doesn't have a lot in common with its origin. This formula uses a food processor, since I don't have a fancy stand mixer with all the attachments. You can also make it in a mixer with a paddle attachment, being careful not to overmix.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
Food processor method, metal blade

yield: about four pounds of cookie dough. The quantity of cookies is up to you - some like small cookies; use a teaspoon to portion and round the dough by hand for 2"-3" cookies. Use an ice cream scoop for 4" cookies. I like the small cookies since I can eat more of them.

If you have a decent scale that weighs in tenths of ounces, you can put this all together in a food processor bowl, pulsing to mix ingredients as you go and zeroing out as you add ingredients. Less washing up this way. Don't use the food processor to mix the chocolate chips since it will grind them up - dump the dough into a bowl and mix them in by hand.

Ingredients
  • 1 lb 1 oz (4 cups)    All purpose flour
  • 0.25 oz    (1 1/2 tsp)    baking soda
  • 1/2 tsp    kosher salt
  • 8 oz        unsalted butter, cut into 1 oz. pieces (2 sticks)
  • 10 oz (2 cups tightly packed) dark brown sugar
  • 5 oz granulated sugar (or use all dark brown sugar)
  • 2.25 oz (2) large eggs
  • 1 oz (2 Tbsp) dark rum
  • 1 tsp Vanilla extract
  • 24 oz dark or extra dark or mixed chocolate chips (two packs is 23 oz - good enough)

Method
  1. Preheat oven to 300° F.
  2. In food processor bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt, sugar. Mix using metal blade.
  3. Add room temperature butter to the food processor bowl and mix.
  4. Add the eggs, dark rum and vanilla to the food processor, pulse until mixed.
  5. Transfer to mixing bowl, fold in chocolate chips by hand.
  6. Form the dough into balls, size according to how large you like your cookies. The balls will melt into cookies in the oven.
  7. Place the balls on parchment paper covered baking pans, leaving space around them so that the cookies won't touch when they melt.
  8. Place baking sheets on the top and center racks of the oven and bake for 28 to 30 minutes, until the cookies are a bit browned (or more browned, according to your taste).
  9. Remove cookies from oven, allow to cool on baking sheet for 30 minutes. I like to tilt the cookies by overlapping them so that air can circulate beneath them.

You're done. Restrain yourself. Remember that the chocolate is molten when the cookies come out of the oven, and will be painful when it sticks to your fingers and lips. Best to wait a few minutes before giving in to your cookie-eating urges.

Store the remaining cookies in an appropriately marked cookie tin, assuming that you, your friends and family did not eat the entire batch.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Buttermilk fish & chips


It was a dark but not yet stormy night. The storm was on its way, though. Rain was in the air as the trees bent in the wind. An ideal night for some comforting pub food.

This recipe started with an idea to use a thinner, lighter batter but still have moist, flavorful fish. I did not want to fool with beer batter, yeast, and a thick crust with a lot of flavor, since the goal was to bring out the fish's natural flavor and just use the batter for a bit of crunch and as a coating. The fish should be the star, after all. Instead, the fish is left in some salted buttermilk to act as a brine and get more moisture into the fish before frying. The buttermilk will also act as glue to hold the flour mixture onto the fish during frying.

I suppose I should mention that this type of cooking has an element of risk. Doing things the old school way is not the same as sticking things in a microwave and waiting for the "bing". 

Hot oil overflowing onto an open flame creates a grease fire - not a good thing, and definitely best avoided. This typically happens when your fryer has too much oil, too close to the rim. When you add the food, the moisture on its surface will flash into steam, creating bubbles. All those bubbles - combined with the food itself, will raise the level of the oil. If you have too much oil, it will overflow right onto an open flame (if you're doing this over a burner). Badaboom! Danger! No eyebrows! Always add the food slowly, even when you're certain that the oil level is fine. Dropping the food into the oil is never a good idea in any case, since hot oil hurts, leaves unsightly red welts on your skin and is overall bad form if you're trying to appear expert and cheflike.

Maybe this is a good time to check that you have appropriate materials on hand to extinguish a small kitchen inferno appropriately, too.

Never, ever use water to put out a grease fire! Remember the Wizard of Oz? Do you really want that fireball in your kitchen or in your face? No, I didn't think so. Water is heavier than oil, so what happens when you get a lot of it in the fryer is that it sinks to the bottom of the oil and flashes into steam, shooting burning oil everywhere.

If all this sounds too scary, maybe you should bake the fries and fish instead - but that's another recipe. This recipe is the real thing, hot oil, potatoes, fish. If the oven is too much a challenge, well, there's always frozen stuff and a microwave, the mainstay of cooking-challenged people everywhere - although at this point I'd rather brave the approaching storm and head for a local pub.

The Fish 

Ingredients

The Fish
  • Black rockfish fillets, sliced into four inch chunks. Debone the fillets first (fish or needlenose pliers work great for this). You could also use some other type of white fish with firm flesh. If you opt for salmon, remember that your oil will be forever imbued with a good dose of fishiness. Remember to use sustainable seafood, whatever your choice!
  • Buttermilk to cover fillets
  • Sea salt
  • Aleppo pepper (chile flakes)
  • Black pepper
The flour for dredging
  • All purpose flour
  • Morton sea salt flakes
  • A bit of kosher salt (since the flakes won't all stick)
  • Aleppo pepper
  • Black pepper
Process
  1. Mix the buttermilk, salt and peppers together, pour over the fish, mix everything together so that each piece of fish is well coated. Place in refrigerator for at least two hours.
  2. Mix the flour, salt, peppers together and set aside in a large mixing bowl suitable for dredging the fish.
  3. Heat a suitable vegetable oil to a point where a chip (piece of potato) bubbles energetically when dipped into the oil. It doesn't have to be smoking, and it's probably a good idea that it's not.
  4. Dredge the fish in the flour mixture, making sure that the pieces are well coated. When removing the fillets, shake them a bit to remove excess flour.
  5. Your oil should be nice and hot at this point. Slowly dip the fish into the hot oil and let go. Don't drop it in unless you like oil burns all over your forearms. The fish will cook much quicker than the fries, so stagger the two processes.
  6. When the fish is golden brown, remove it from the oil, turn off the heat and set it on a rack or screen to let the excess oil drip off.

The Chips

The chips should not come out of a large bag that's been in a freezer for an unknown amount of time. They should be cut from scrubbed Russet potatoes, sliced and done in a three step process just like in Belgium. No, they're not French. Just ask a Belgian if you don't believe me.

Ingredients
  • Russet potatoes, julienned. If you have a mandoline, you can slice them quickly. If you're a gadget freak, you can get a gizmo that mounts on the wall and slices them just about instantly. If you have a really great, razor sharp knife you can do them all by hand.
  • Salt, pepper for tossing on the finished chips
Process
  1. Soak the potatoes in water, preferably overnight. If you're in more of a hurry, you can rinse the potatoes until the water is clear and soak them for less time. This is to remove excess starch for crispier chips.
  2. About an hour before showtime, heat a suitable high temperature vegetable oil. Use a frying pan or fryer that's deep enough to cover the fries yet have ample room between the top of the fryer and the surface of the oil. The fries will bubble energetically when they go in, raising the surface of the oil so it's essential that this can all happen inside the fryer. 
  3. Place the fries in the oil slowly. This lets you avoid splashing and consequent burns, and also lets you verify that you didn't put too much oil in the fryer. If the bubbles get almost to the top, save the rest of the fries for a later batch. 
  4. Fry the potatoes until they start to get limp, not golden. That's the next step. Leave the potatoes to cool off. Don't worry about draining off excess oil at this point, since you're going to re-fry the chips anyway. Turn off the heat under the oil.
  5. Before meal time, start heating the oil. Since you may need to fry the chips in batches, allow time for multiple fryings as needed (you can heat the oil for the fish so it's ready too - just be careful not to overheat it while you're doing the chips).
  6. Fry the chips until they're just a nice golden brown. Drain off the excess fat.
  7. Toss the chips with some salt and pepper and serve immediately. If all went well, you've also cooked the fish and everything is in perfect synchronization. 
Place the fish over the fries, garnish with a lemon wedge and dinner is ready. If you insist on being very British, make sure you have some malt vinegar on hand.




Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Rolled boneless chicken roast

Fancy and impressive, without fooling around with forcemeat and curing.

The chicken is prepared like a gallantine, except that the thighs and legs are left attached, although they could be just as easily incorporated into the main roast. I like leaving them since it gives a visual clue that this was once a chicken. Similar to a gallantine, it's braised with cold chicken stock - only in the oven instead of on the range so that the skin will brown. Unlike a gallantine, I didn't use any forcemeat, although a bit of prosciutto would have been a nice garnish to lay over the meat. The flavor was good enough without it and the cost was certainly lower.

This is something rather unusual for most people, so it's fun to carve it at the table, removing the trussing and slicing into half inch thick rondelles. If you're being fancy, plate it as described below. If not, go family style and pass the platter. This was enough for eight people, after they had already enjoyed a first course and some hors d'œvres.

Ingredients:
  • 1 whole chicken
  • Sea salt
  • Fresh sage & rosemary
  • Garlic, finely chopped
  • Marsala wine
  • Chicken stock
Steps:
  1. First, debone the chicken, removing the wings but boning out the drumsticks (leave the thigh and drumstick meat though. Lay it flat, skin side down.
  2. Flap the breasts meat over so it covers the space between the breasts.
  3. Make a paste out of the rosemary, sage, garlic and some of the salt. Adjust the quantity of herbs according to how strong an herb flavor you want and how big the chicken is. 
  4. Spread the paste over the chicken meat, and stick a bit in the hole left by the drumstick and thigh bones. Lightly sprinkle the Marsala over the chicken, being careful not to wash off the paste. You could also add it to the paste, but this seems to distribute the wine better over the entire bird.
  5.  Roll the chicken up tightly, leaving a minimal overlap at the edges.
  6. Truss the chicken, starting with the drumstick end.
  7. Carefully place the chicken into a baking dish, pour cold chicken stock around the bird so it comes up around an inch. Liberally sprinkle salt over the bird and place in an oven preheated to 375°F. 
  8. The chicken will take about 90 minutes to cook - it's done when the meat at the center of the bird reaches 168°F (use a thermometer to check).
Family style serving: If you opt for the potatoes (below), arrange the spuds around the edges of a serving platter and layer the sliced chicken pieces down the center. 

If plating individually, fan out the potato slices, overlap with slices of chicken. You can also pour some red or orange pepper coulis on the plate under/around the main ingredients for color and add a fresh basil leaf for a garnish.

You can accompany the chicken with sliced Yukon Gold potatoes:

Ingredients:
  • Yukon gold potatoes (about four), scrubbed and sliced into 1/2" half-rounds.
  • Salt
  • Rosemary
  • Black pepper
  • Chicken stock
  • Olive oil (or duck fat if you're being extravagant)
Steps:
  1. Toss the potatoes, herbs, salt, pepper and oil. If using duck fat, you may need to heat it a bit to get it liquid.
  2. Place the slices in a shallow baking dish, pour about 3/4" of stock into the pan - the tops of the potatoes should not be submerged. The stock will evaporate during cooking, leaving nicely browned crispy yet succulent potatoes.
  3. Place in a preheated 400°F oven or bake next to the chicken. Check that it's browning - if the chicken is ready but the potatoes aren't browned, you can place it under the broiler to finish. The potatoes are done when you can easily poke them with a fork.
Serve with a nice ciabatta or rustic French bread, a light red wine and maybe a garnish of fresh basil and you've got a great summer meal.

This could probably be prepared ahead and served cold for a cool summer meal.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Slopppping the Humans



It can't be this easy to be a caterer, can it? I attended an event, and it really looks like all you need is an inspected, commercial kitchen, some trucks and that's it. Yes, I deliberately left out cooking skills. Apparently they're overrated. Unlike restaurants, nobody attends most events for the food. Just make it safe for human consumption, within socially acceptable and legal norms, and shovel it out for guest victims to devour like uncaring animals.

It started with the crostini: one choice. With walnuts. It was apparently too much trouble to make some non-allergenic ones or heaven forbid, several different types for variety, interest and prestige.  Asking if they had any other type got a blank look, a forced smile that stopped at the corners of the mouth and a "No. Sorry".

The other appetizer was smoked salmon. I know you had an image in your mind when you read those two words. Perhaps a canapé coated with a thin layer of dill-yogurt-cucumber sauce topped with a luscious, iridescent slice of salmon. Could it have been a bite-sized wrap rolled with chipotle-mayo sauce, finely chopped green onions and cilantro with an attractive pink spiral of salmon inside? Maybe the spinach and salmon kind tucked into luscious little puff pastry shells...

Well, you're wrong. It was blobs of gray protein stuck through with skewer sticks à la Yakitori, dipped in something that looked like an inept blend of corn starch and soy sauce. Was the salmon a sustainable wild Pacific variety? Doubtful. Asking, "Do you know where the salmon comes from?" got the same blank stare, but now with a quantum of annoyance mixed in. Same answer, though: "No. Sorry.". So, that leaves me to suppose that it came from a polluting, ultra-crowded salmon farm where lowest price was the foremost criterion. That would go far to explain why it wasn't even pink. It had so little salmon color that I mistook it for chicken. (Fool! The chicken is pinker!)

The event was ecologically oriented, so if you stuck to your guns about sustainable seafood you went hungry on the fish (probably a good thing, considering...). If you were allergic to nuts too, well you suffered until they took the lid off the main course.

Eventually the pre-appointed time came, the lids were removed from the steam trays and everyone lined up for their main course: pasta salad vinaigrette, another cold salad with walnuts, and thin "grilled" chicken breasts. Yes, they were grilled at some point - there were marks on them. After that, they were tossed in sauce gluante sans âme and left for dead on the steam trays at a safe temperature, over 140°F no doubt. Unless the fire went out under the tray... oops.

Dessert was mixed cookies and strange brownie-like objects.

So, I thought. This is all it takes to be a successful caterer. Food quality, flavor, originality and enthusiasm are useless. Churn out cheap, bland food without any planning of how the event meal goes together. Hire people who don't know anything, don't care, probably cost less per hour than renting a power tool at Home Depot, but who will put the food out and clean up the mess afterward. Secure your permits, pay your taxes, maybe donate some of your excess profits to a local charity for good will.

Turning my back on the artistry of making quality food just to churn out a belly stuffing mixture of proteins, fat, salt and carbohydrates for uncaring masses is exactly why catering does not interest me. More often than not, this swill is par for the course at this kind of event, yet only one person complained. I'll leave it up to you to guess that person's identity. Hint: it's the same person who asked the caterer if anyone actually planned the menu (nuts only, probably unsustainable fish, two cold salads... hello?).

Let's face it - nobody was at this event for the food. This is true of most events. Still, did it have to be that poorly planned and executed? Is bland, dry chicken coated with a gluante sweet-salty sauce with no redeeming characteristics really what these people deserved? Was brining the chicken really not an option, or did it aspire to become shoe leather despite this process?

Our local Culinary Arts program at ARC has a catering class. I've even volunteered for some events. The menus were planned, some with central themes others by flavor combinations. We had vegan, spicy, exotic, seasonally fresh and overall interesting food every time. There were even French garlic sausage corn dogs at one event, and thanks to Chef Ray's artistry there were a lot of happy people rubbing their distended bellies after it was over. So, catering can be done well. It can make people smile, surprise them with new tastes, rattle their sensibilities, tear down preconceptions... just like any well planned and executed meal.

Can catering be a rewarding profession? Does the torturer's rack of lowest cost force anyone embarking on this venture to submit to the formula of cheap ingredients and mediocrity, sacrificing originality, interest and good food on the altar of profit? Does one become a mindless drone bereft of pride, left like the Cheshire Cat with only a fatuous grin and some kibble? Must one murder their culinary muse, silencing her forever by shooting her through the heart with a greasy skewer coated with proteins of dubious origin? Do the food movements so hot in restaurants not cross the catering line? Where are slow food, sustainable seafood, locally sourced ingredients, seasonality... certainly all were M.I.A. at this event.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Which Port in a Storm?


Since we had to write a paper for a class, and I needed an excuse to organize and type my notes from a recent trip to Porto, Portugal, this was a great way to kill two birds with one stone. I have no idea how well (or poorly) my papers have been received in this class, since I never got one back graded, marked up or commented on. Nor did I get confirmation via e-mail that they were even received. Ever. Talk about instructor apathy! So my other motive is insurance: it will be difficult to say I didn't finish on time if the paper is sitting right here on this server two full days before it's due.

This version was edited slightly because I can't post something without rewriting it at least a couple more times to correct, clarify and hopefully improve the text.



Port now comes in Pink. It’s new, it’s colorful and you can even make cocktails with it. Pink probably won't dethrone our favorite Ruby and Tawny Ports here in the United States, but it's probably more accessible for younger drinkers. White Port is also starting to make an appearance, and should do well here since it's lighter than the reds and is served chilled - a better option for summer.

All varieties start as wine, made from grapes grown on schist soils around the Douro Valley. Red grape varieties include Touriga Nacional, Touriga Francesa, Tinta Barroca, Tinta Roriz (Tempranillo) and Tinto Cão. Many of these are the same varietals as used to make Douro wines. There are also white varietals but they don’t seem to be considered important enough to list by the producers. Presumably they use the same varietals as for white Douro wine: Codega, Rabigato, Donzelinho, Viosinho, Cercial...

Fermentation is stopped after about two days by adding 77% alcohol spirits that kill the yeast and preserve the sugar in the beverage. The final result is Port, with an alcohol content of 20%.

Crushing, fermentation and blending with spirits takes place outside of Gaia, with much of it done in Regua about an hour’s train ride up the Douro from the coast. Most Port is blended, aged and bottled in Vila Nova de Gaia, after being trucked there from Regua or elsewhere up the Douro Valley. Those interesting boats loaded with barrels floating on the Douro are just for show; they can no longer compete with trucks for efficiency.

Port prices run the gamut from around $10-$15 for whites and rubies, $15-$40 for tawnies, $50 and up for Vintage. Select vintage Ports can run over $400 and even $500 on auction at Christie’s. The saying in Porto is “the older the better” and the price reflects this.

Sorting the types of Port can be a bit confusing, since prices do overlap and non-vintage (NV) tawnies can be priced by age, creating an overlap with true vintage and LBV Ports. Whites, Rubies and Tawnies can also be reserve selections.

White Port
As its name suggests, this is an amber colored liquid. It’s still somewhat sweet and at 20% alcohol it’s best as an apertif. Unlike red Port, it’s served chilled at 8°-10° C (46°-50° F). It can be extra-dry or extra sweet, and some wineries, such as Ramos Pinto, make a variety of styles. Many spend some time on oak.

Pink Port
The new kid on the block, Pink Port seems to be quite the rage among producers. At Croft, it never sees wood at any point in its production, being made exclusively in stainless steel. It’s served chilled like white port and is marketed as a component in cocktails like The Runaway or the Sunset. Croft suggests drizzling it over fruit sorbet with a mint garnish, mixing it with jasmine tea, or using it to make Sangria.

Ruby Port
Typically, ruby Ports are not barrel aged, since the goal is to keep a bright ruby color. They stay in a cask for three to five years, and are blended across years. These wines are less complex than Tawnies, with more fruit and less woodsy tones, placing them between whites and Tawnies. This wine will keep for weeks or months once opened.

Tawny Port
This wine gets some barrel time. Most are non-vintage and blended across years. Tawnies are also sold by age, although since they’re a blend this is somewhat subjective. These Ports develop woody, caramel, honey notes and nice complexity that (hopefully) justify their higher price. These should be served lightly chilled at 16° C (60° F). Once open, the wine will keep for weeks or even months. Colheita Tawnies get six years in barrels.

Late Bottle Vintage (LBV)
Ruby Port from some years is judged of better quality than average by a single producer and is given the LBV designation, with all wine from a single year. It’s typically aged six years at Croft, four at Sandeman - so apparently there’s no hard and fast rule on aging time. Some, such as Quinta de Ventozelo, are unfiltered and should be decanted before drinking. These wines may mature somewhat in bottles.

Vintage
This is the high end stuff, with vintage years officially declared by the Port Wine Institute. These exceptional years happen on average but a couple of times per decade.
Many are foot crushed, apparently to smash out as much tannin from the skins as possible from the outset of the crushing process. Since this happens in a shallow area, there is probably also a lot of aeration going on to help the yeast.

These wines are typically unfiltered and need careful decanting prior to drinking. These wines mature in bottles, and like LBV, should be stored on their sides so that the cork remains wet. These wines are still good after 100 years, and 15 years aging is considered a minimum, with Sandeman’s tour guide saying that 25-30 years’ aging is preferred.

These wines have a ruby color during their first five years in the bottle, aging gradually to a more amber color.

Once you decide to open a vintage Port, you have two days to drink it before it degrades. Invite friends, since at 20% alcohol you’ll be doing your liver a favor by not drinking it all yourself.

Explorations
Nobody can visit the Porto region without stopping off for some tasting. Considering the number of producers offering their wares, we decided to limit our exploration to two wineries.




Sandeman
The Sandeman Don looms over the city of Porto. He’s everywhere, more ubiquitous than Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. He’s the mysterious figure dressed like the tour guide, holding a glass of Port that seems to float magically over his shoulder.

Like most ports, the Don is really English. Sandeman, Croft and many others are owned by British companies and have been since the 18th century.

You wander idly about the museum, gazing at the history of Port in general and Sandeman in particular. The dim lighting and rough wood finishes give the impression of being inside a cask,  or perhaps an ancient sailing ship transporting Port wine to England.

The tour will begin in twelve minutes, by consensus in English. You grasp your € 4.00 entry ticket, waiting for a short woman dressed in  black to lead you forward. Everything seems calculated to burn the house’s logo, the Don, into your brain: he’s plastered on all major axes of circulation, printed on your ticket, explained in the house museum. The guide, a very serious young woman, bears his costume, a wide-brimmed black hat and black cape that absorb the little light present in the cellar so that she almost disappears when she turns her back to the audience.

She beckons, and the group advances, speaking French, English and German in hushed tones as they walk across the wood pavers that line the floor. The pavers are for humidity control and to allow the barrels to be easily moved, the guide explains.

We move down a long corridor lined on both sides with barrels. Vertical cages packed with bottles rise behind the barrels on the right, marked with hanging signs indicating the year they were bottled. These are o meior, vintage Ports. A sign indicates 1957, and I wonder what manner of elixir their contents have become after sitting so long in this dark cave.

The corridor terminates in an array of towering casks, each holding over 20,000 liters of Port.
A wood cutout of the Don reminds everyone where they are, in case the memory dimmed during the three minute walk from the entrance.

The tour proceeds past a small, azulejo-lined pond complete with goldfish (why not cave fish, I wonder). The pond is functional, to maintain humidity.

Flexible pipes crawl across the ground, used to move the Port from the casks to wherever they see fit. In the distance, workers move about, but it’s not clear what they’re doing in this place where the chief asset to quality seems to be time. Time to age the Port, allow it to become imbued with the essences of wood and grape, to mature into something wonderful.

Eventually we pass out of the cellar into a small viewing room, where after a series of slides urging us to drink responsibly, we learn about the regions where the wine is grown, fermented and held prior to arriving in Gaia for aging.

After the presentation, we taste. Today we have a white port and a ruby.  The glasses, already filled and counted, await us at rustic wood benches next to a store where we can purchase Port, T-shirts and all kinds of swag imprinted with the image of the Don.

The white port was a medium amber color and had a sweet note, followed by fresh-sawn oak. Maybe a bit of raisin for fruit. On the tongue, a bit of acidity to balance the sugar, and a caramel finish. A much lighter, perhaps more approachable drink than a red Port, probably with enough sweetness to appeal to younger drinkers. White Port is served chilled, so probably a better choice in summer, too.

The ruby had a better showing of fruit; cherry, maybe blackcurrant, some vanilla, and a bit of caramel. A sip confirmed this impression. This was a much more complicated wine, yet finished cleanly with lingering caramel.




Croft
After Sandeman, we decided to head well upslope from the Douro to Croft. They produce the same three kinds of Port as Sandeman, plus one other. They make the traditional wood-aged Tawny, the fruitier and less-aged Ruby, White and only recently, Pink. Think fortified White Zin or rose and you’ll get the picture. Something pretty, easy to drink and new.

Croft tour guides dress more like flight attendants crossed with matadors. Tours are in English only. It doesn’t matter if everyone on the tour is French. They’ll adapt. They’d better, since closing time is fast approaching and nobody wanted to remain any longer than necessary.

Croft grapes are hand picked, and grow on the same slopes with fast draining schist soil that gives such great flavor. The vines’ roots can reach down twenty meters looking for water, and this lack of moisture concentrates flavors in the grapes.

Their vintage Port, only made in truly exceptional years, are crushed by foot. Presumably more ordinary years have to settle for mechanical presses. It’s not clear why feet are better, nor what the cost differences are between the two methods.

The floor at Croft is covered with gravel, something like road base. No wood pavers here, but things seem to work just fine nonetheless. The system of casks and barrels is the same as Sandeman, too. The main difference here is that the visit is free and you receive a complimentary glass of white Port at the end. You can also purchase any other type of Port for tasting.

I found the two white Ports quite similar, since I wasn’t able to taste them side by side. We bought a glass of Pink. The first thing I noticed was a strong hit of alcohol, followed by some fruity notes. Other than that, I don’t have a great recollection of what it tasted like since I forgot to take notes and it was late afternoon.

Pairings

White Port
We did a bit of testing, and decided that blue cheese and even chocolate (to a lesser extent) do work. So do ripe apricots. Pistachios work well enough, but the apricots and cheese were better.

Ruby Port
Melon and Prosciutto works with the fruitiness of the Port. Cheese (notably blue) and chocolate are also suggested.

Tawny Port
The classic pairing, at least in France, of melon and prosciutto works with Tawny Port as well as Ruby. Sandeman suggested walnuts, blue cheeese (presumably Stilton), chocolate (and chocolate-dipped strawberries). We often serve pistachios with it, too.

One Port producer suggests almond tartes and cream pies to accompany their Tawny Port and dark chocolate for their aged Tawnies.

Recipes for these tapas feature on another producer's site. Note that many of them revolve around blue cheese, cured ham and melon. Blue Cheese Baby Burgers, bruschetta with dried meat, tomato brioche bread with Serrano ham, Four Seasons toast with Valencay goat cheese, melon balls and Prosciutto, and a creamy verrine with avocado, crème fraîche, salmon mousse and Ricotta cheese.
Another producer adds ice cream to the list, without specifying a flavor.

Vintage Port
Apparently, the consensus is that vintage Port is something you savor on its own. However, it pairs with chocolate, cheese or melon like other red Ports.