John's Roast Pork (Philadelphia, PA)

John’s Roast Pork (14 Snyder Ave., 215.463.1951) carries a heavy burden: a few years ago, it was labeled the producer of the best cheesesteak in Philadelphia. It’s an appellation I won’t argue with, though the steak is different than the other prime contender (Tony Luke’s): a soft sesame seed roll, a different meat/bread ratio (in favor of the meat), and much less grease. The quality of the beef, however, can’t be denied; in its raw state, it looks like they’re throwing thinly-sliced prime strip on the grill, and the steaks from here remain the only ones I’ve ever eaten that leave not even the tiniest morsel of unchewable gristle. In any case, thumbs way up for the cheesesteaks, but one can legitimately disagree on whether or not they're actually "the best."

That said, no cow-derived hoagie can compete with what John’s really does well, which is the classic South Philly pork sandwich. It’s the most flavorful meat you can possibly imagine, and with sharp provolone (and other toppings as one desires) is a true work of the sandwich art. It’s an absolutely breathtaking way to take a few months off one’s life. Only a difficult location, between a dubious strip mall and a chemical plant, keeps this joint from being packed to the gills on a daily basis (and yet, it's quite busy), but everyone should make the pilgrimage. This is heaven on a roll.

TN: Searching for Barliman Butterbur (New Zealand, pt. 23)

294° and sunny

Four weather forecasts, four mistakes.

Not that we’re complaining. Most of the forecasts have been for heavy rain, and we’re happy to have missed the larger part of the precipitation. One immediately suspects mountain effects, as the jagged peaks of the Remarkables have gained new dustings of powdered sugar snow each morning, and now similar white-flecked pinnacles are starting to appear on the ranges to the west and north.

Anyway, today’s predicted clouds and cold rain have taken on the guise of warming sunshine and bright blue sky, and despite yesterday’s chill the immediate post-dawn weather is just warm enough to consider wearing shorts. We’re up early for something we do surprisingly little of on vacations, especially considering how much of our summers back home are built around the activity: a round of golf at the Queenstown Golf Club, a course on the Kelvin Heights peninsula, crowned by the rich golden-brown pyramid of Cecil Peak and surrounded by the sapphire-blue waters of Lake Wakatipu. We’re the first ones out today, and the course is – for the greater part of the morning – ours.

QGC is an inexpensive public golf course, and as such isn’t exactly in pristine shape. That said, it’s a lot better than Ringa Ringa Heights (though perhaps that’s not saying a lot), and all it really needs to improve is a good overseeding and more tightly-mown greens. Still, the views can hardly be surpassed, and a few hours walking such a beautiful golf course is in no way time ill-spent.

The Little Nell of the Southern Hemisphere

We lunch back at our rental, making quick work of a composed salad full of semi-local fishy delights and a decidedly local bottle of wine.

Gibbston Valley 2003 Pinot Blanc (Central Otago) – Shy on the nose, showing crisp apple and pear with light minerality. Dry, sharp, and surprisingly intense (structurally), but not as generous as it was in the Gibbston Valley tasting room. It probably just needs decanting, but the bottle doesn’t last long enough for us to find out.

Theresa takes a midday nap – such are the luxuries afforded by long vacations – while I wander the streets of Queenstown in search of a few gifts. The change in the town vs. just a few years earlier is striking, with construction thrown up on every available hillside and a bevy of trendy new shops slowly crowding out the more rough-hewn adventure-oriented and knick-knacky storefronts that had still held sway on our previous visit. Pizza and pasta dives have largely been replaced by middle-class restaurants, touristy swag has given way to jade-, opal- and paua-hocking jewelers, and functional (though sleekly-designed) adventure-wear shops are met in equal measure by the sort of upscale “hey-look-we’re-‘roughing-it’” clothing boutiques one can find in most any area where looking the part is as important as the activities represented by the outerwear. There’s also a good deal of Lord of the Rings merchandise; some of it tasteful and familiar, some of it shockingly inappropriate (“the Lord of the Rings four-wheeler off-road tour & commemorative Andúril replica”), and there is a still-low key but obviously emergent focus on the viticultural output of the nearby Central Otago wine regions. I note a few restaurants and wine bars worthy of further exploration, the locations and prices of local internet cafés, and return home to pick up my well-rested wife.

(Continued here…)

TN: Singing rat

Casa Vinicola “Tayerle” 2005 Vermentino “Troubadour Blanc” (Sonoma Coast) – Kiwifruit and grass, with a touch of Midori liqueur and a lot of fresh, briny and somewhat sticky textural elements. Decent acidity. Ever so slightly heavy, but a rather remarkable achievement in California vermentino.

Vermentino is grown around Italy – Liguria and Tuscany have noteworthy plantings – but the vermentino most people know is from Sardinia; a full-bodied, flavorful companion to lusty fish preparations. (There’s also a Corsican form – in fact, it’s the #1 white grape on Corsica – that’s just one Kermit Lynch-imported wine away from utterly unknown in the States.) This wine was a recommendation by Steve Edmunds of Edmunds St. John, who’s experimenting with his own plantings. Based on these and other results (a lower-key offering from Uvaggio) there’s potential in California for this overlooked grape. Alcohol: 13.2%. Closure: extruded synthetic. Web: http://www.casavinicola.net/.

TN: An (almost) noteless idyll

Sometimes, it’s nice to put away the tasting notes for a while. Wine enjoyment is about many things other than the analytical, and it’s important to remember that (such remembrance is often catalyzed by a good glass of something-or-other). Furthermore, a brief hiatus from notation can help recharge the analytical batteries.

So, with a few days and nights on the Jersey Shore with the family, I managed to taste –well, drink – a dozen (maybe more) wines of which I have nothing other than the most general impressions. There was a pleasant Spanish white blend that included some verdejo, and then a varietal verdejo that carried a rather nasty burnt grass streak. A Prá Soave Classico Superiore was soft but ultimately forgettable, while a Sicilian grillo was full of lusty – if alcoholic – and sun-drenched lemon. There was a rather dramatic Slovenian rebula (a/k/a ribolla gialla), as well; possibly the only wine on which I’d taken a comprehensive tasting note. And quite a few others I’ve forgotten.

On the red side of things, there was less variability, but also less excitement. A Rosso Cònero was full-fruited and tasty, while a corked Taluau 2004 St-Nicholas-de-Bourgueil was followed by another with zippy green fruit; both were better than a too-soft Filliatreau 2004 Saumur-Champigny “La Grande Vignolle.” Others fade into distant memory.

From there, the family festivization moved to Philly. A classically South Philadelphian Italian red sauce joint offered a Fazi Battaglia 2003 Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico (you know, the one in the fish-shaped bottle), which was overripe, and a Duca di Salaparuta “Corvo” 2002 Rosso, showing the usual thudding nero d’avola.

(The careful reader will notice that the notes are getting more specific. That’s the aforementioned battery-recharging. I don’t just make these things up, you know.)

Finally, over dinner at a suburban BYO, it was time to once again re-engage those briefly-dormant notation skills and take two wines to task:

Guillemot-Michel 2000 Mâcon-Villages (Mâcon) – Sweet chanterelle and delicate honeydew with a touch of botrytis-like candied apricot. Sweetly-pretty, and prettily off-dry, but surprisingly agile moving from apéritif to table. Lovely right now, though those who want more complexity (and are willing to sacrifice some fruit in the process) will want to keep waiting.

Banti 2000 Morellino di Scansano Riserva “Ciabatta” (Tuscany) – Dying under the weight of its wood, which is a bit surprising as there’s not that much of it. But sangiovese doesn’t always handle wood that well, and here’s an example of what happens: nasty toast and char aromas dominate some rather harsh black fruit. Better at release, pretty unpleasant now.

TN: TCA trifecta

Occasionally, it happens: a bad run of corked wines. This is, if I recall correctly, the third time I've hit three in a row. Certainly I'm due some sort of karmic payback at this point. (But if people wonder why I'm so vociferously pro-screwcap...well, here you go...)

Cinquin “Domaine des Braves” 2002 Régnié (Beaujolais) – Corked.

Cinquin “Domaine des Braves” 2002 Régnié (Beaujolais) – 2nd bottle. Corked.

Raymond Quenard 2004 Chignin Mondeuse (Savoie) – Corked.

Producteurs Plaimont “Les Vignes Retrouvées” 2004 Côtes de Saint-Mont (Southwest France) – Fresh-cut melon and dried clay. Simple, direct and pure, not to mention a fine bargain.