A curious look into food and wine from the perspective of a man who pairs his rosé with gangster rap.
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Organic and Biodynamic. It’s been a harrowing past couple of months. But I can find solace in the Cabernet Sauvignon/Graciano blend from La Mancha in northern Spain. From Dominium de Punctum named Pablo Claro, this red fruited beauty is light but intense. Structured and soft.
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A bone to pick...
In all facets of our lives, we are often confronted with idea that we will be judged. It’s something that we have to get used to. Something we must not only overcome, but grow accustomed to; in order to be functioning members of society. Let me state for the record, that I am not criticizing the art of judgements. Critical advice is one of the most paramount aspects of creativity. Mitigating inner hubris is order to become more relatable, is only one aspect of becoming a better artist, singer, dancer, and (most importantly for this article) winemaker, or chef.
My mentioning of criticism isn’t a slight at the art itself, but the manner at which it’s being implemented. Point systems. That’s the aspect that has me a bit miffed. Alright, I’ll level with you. I am a lot miffed.
Set aside that someone is attempting to explain a purely subjective sense on paper or screen; and think about the implementation of a point system. Parker points and Suckling tokens have completely gutted the underbelly of enjoyment for the things they were trying so desperately to bring into focus. Parker rates a Napa Cab 94 top hats and all of a sudden it’s suppose to speak to everyone? It’s supposed to resonate at every dinner table, or every graduation toast? And not only is this wine supposed to do all of these things, but it hit’s the “it” factor at a numerical marker of 94.
I can’t knock a man for doing his job. If the people want points, by science give them points. But wouldn’t the world be a better place if readers knew how to read these points. As opposed to thinking that 94 points on the Suckle-o-meter mandates that this wine has 94 HP; think of it as a cigar smoking, whiskey chasing elderly white male believe in his heart that this wine amounts to 94 hand claps.
Equate it to other arts. Music, as an example, has been set on a numeric scale in order to track popularity, which in a way denotes worth or value. Pop charts and top hits list are all guided by crowd enthusiasm and speculation. But a 94 point song doesn’t fit across the board with every listener. A 94 point hip hop banger may not sit well with you 67 year old grandma as would say; a pleasant ditty. The same can be said for wine.
Again, I don’t mean to malign the knowledgable score reader, who uses them as added information in the world of wine. But more the dogmatic affluent drunk, who simply wants to flex their buying capacity. Also, points do mean something. If the numbers were complete shit, I probably wouldn’t be able to find a meaning in my job. I want for people to use them more as tools rather than rules. Don’t let another man’s opinion expressed as a digit, take you off the path of curiosity.
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What’s sure the be the first of many

So I began the level two planning of The Restorative’s first monthly wine dinners. I know its been a long time since I’ve actually posted anything, so let me start with some vital information.
Since the last time I’ve posted I have become the Sommelier/Head Server at The Restorative. If you know me, you know what an honor and a joy it is to be placed with such a radical responsibility. Also, if you know me you know how neurotic I can be about note taking and list making (par example).
The chefs have handed me a challenging menu to start out with, and I am hella excited to see what diners make of our eccentric chemistry on the menu.
Due to my nature of secrecy, I can’t disclose all of the wines just yet, but I will be posting updates and hints at to what will be in store for later.
#theRestorative#dunedin#food#foodie#foodporn#foodjunkie#wine#spanishwine#frenchwine#bubbles#champagne#hamachi#beef#carpaccio#ganache#italianwine#tampabay#tampafood#floridafood#pairings#wine dinners#winedinner#theresto#foodandwineguy
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Tuna Poke, Cucumber Gazpacho, Sesame.
“Like brevity meets youth, and acid is the driver.”
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Today was the grand opening of The Restorative. Earlier on this blog, I spoke of something I often call “food with dialogue.” A dish that inspires conversation, defies convention, or (more importantly) challenges preconceived notions.
What I am talking of, is not a plate of food that comes with a set of instructions for consumption, but a redux of an old favorite. A careful and attentive glance back at an old friend. One who we were sure we knew, but now know we don’t.
If you’re reading this, first of all, I want to thank you. This space has become for me, a personal vignette of my culinary and beverage journey. This page’s purpose is less thought out than the time it takes to open a can of cheap beer. No time at all (knowledge from experience). And yet, I can’t help but begin this tangent with a simple thanks. In the attempt to apologize to whom ever decided clicking was a good idea.
-And I digress.
Good food is good food. Article over. Done and done. A gruyere soufflé (I know, dated) can be elegant, stiff, bold, reserved, and even distant and cold (emotionally). The same can be said for gas station fried chicken or a corner store rueben; which all in all can inspire familiarity, comfort, and decadent bliss (a necessity for me to “love” a dish). I make this statement not because I want to spread it as a manifesto, but because I honestly believe this.
Good food is good food. But great food. That’s where we humans start to split hairs. What defines “great” food. A deconstruction of ingredients? How about a steadfast and dogmatic adherence to tradition? All in all I would say both schools of thought can deliver great food. But those are not rules. Great food, as with any great work of art, comes from the attention the artist is willing to donate.
Great food is made in the kitchens of poor black women in the South just as it is made in the finest restaurants in New York City. Whether it be poached, fried, seared, roasted, smoked, pickled, or cured great food can be had anywhere; as long as attention is given. As long as the stakes are high. And as long as the food is limited. I bring this up, only as a segue to the work being produced at the aforementioned restaurant, The Restorative.
Attention. Simplicity. Taste.
When one peeks at the menu, the sheer size of it [the menu] may seem jarring. As opposed to compiling a ledger of options and choices almost reminiscent of a “mix and match” game, The Restorative opted for a learner approach. Eleven dishes. Ranging in size (small plates vs large plates) and taste (sweet plates vs everything else). Its black and white card stock, with raised lettering harkens to a minimalistic approach to presentation. All in all I think this is an attempt to highlight what is important about the restaurant. The food.
Great food comes from attention.

The Hamachi crude, with seaweed salsa verde, and yuzu kosho vinaigrette.
Simple, clean, delicate, compelling. Truly this dish was like tasting a haiku leave your tongue. Forget the fact that the chef decided to put three continents on one plate for you (thank you chef Jason), or the fact that Hamachi is damn near impossible to get in this location. Focus on the brevity. To call this dish an “appetizer” or an “amuse-bouche” would be under selling it. Her.
Good food comes from attention. This kind of attention. Culinary balance is a fine tightrope. Anyone who’s tasted with me knows that I appreciate balance more than a wow. A chef that understands acidity (which drove this dish) in toe with mouth feel, floral notes, and temperature, is worth more salt than a chili guru. This dish walked in balance. She took years of ballet. She studied Dutch Baroque art, and spent her summers in Nice. This half Spanish, half Italian geisha stole my heart.

My love for chicken liver pâté knows no bounds. My dear friends know me to have made several death threats over the last morsels of chic-liv-pat. And yet, I have taken a glance back. What made this dish for me, wasn’t what he did to the pâté, but what he did with its surroundings. Usually, at francophile joints, this is served with an overly sweetened onion jam (usually store bought), cornichons (gerkins), a stone milled (if you’re lucky) mustard, all on a bed of Tuesdays’ lettuce the chef has been trying to get rid of since Thursday (it’s Saturday).
Here again, I will ask my unlucky reader to notice what the chef has done here. Attention. And omission. Instead of onion sludge, the chef opted to slow roast baby onions. Super slow, and super low. To the point that they basically internally caramelized. Where as most cooks attempt to “beef up” the plate, he deconstructs it. Almost setting the chin-liv-pat (I’m not married to this, just trying out) on a pedestal. A stage. It’s minuscule form is misconceiving to say the least. And oh look, pork cracklin’.
Good food is good food. And great food, in all honesty something so subjective the purpose of this article seems more moot now than when I began. As much as I would like to be, I am not an authority on food or wine (yet). I have never been to Modena and tasted a seventy year old balsamic vinegar from the teat (yet). But I have an informed opinion. And a ravenous palate. But most importantly, I have intrigue. This restaurant intrigues me. The menu (which is constantly changing) intrigues me. And the chefs behind the division in this open kitchen also intrigue me.
If this restaurant stands another four months, or forty years I do not know. If it’s God’s will for this restaurant to fill but a vignette in the world of humanity, so be it. But it sure would be a shame to miss that opportunity. For in the grand scale of things. When people are stabbing neighbors over brown water and giving rice filled with plastic to their children, a little attention is greatly appreciated.
The full menu and restaurant hours are located on their website:
https://www.restorativerestaurant.com
Also notes: The menu does change daily, so any dish that I mention before may not be there when you arrive. Also the space is very small and quite intimate, so they can only accommodate parties of four at the largest.
#therestorative#dunedin#foodie#foodporn#foodandwineguy#chik-liv-pat#foodofintrigue#florida#culinary#cuisine#foodjunkie
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Bridlewood 2002 Santa Ynez (Central Coast) Syrah:
“This voluptuous behemoth of a lady is like licking leather bound cherries dusted in dark cocoa powder and topped with attitude.”
-Me, after two glasses.
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Clos de la Tech, Santa Cruz Mt 2011 Pinot Noir
A deep brick garnet, with a slight red rim. This wine explodes out of the glass with bright red fruit and wild flowers. Bing cherry, Strawberry (mature), and wet leaves dominate the nose and precedes a silky mouthfeel and pleasant finish. Over all this wine was not just a good wine. But an exceptional Pinot.
I had been, before this moment, not a large fan of domestic Pinot Noir. I had often thought that America, as a whole, simply didn’t understand Pinot Noir and its delicacy. I have talked with a slew of customers who would tell me how they hated Pinot Noir’s “watery” consistency and its subtlety. Furthermore I was drowning in Oregon and California Pinot, which for the most part seemed to suffer from too much hang time, and too much maturation.
The result. Pinot Noir that doesn't resemble the earthy and elegant ladies from Burgundy’s Premier and Grand Cru. I found them boisterous and loud. Fat and bumbling. I hate to say it, but I had developed a prejudice. Which anyone in the wine industry would tell you is the beginning of your downfall.
Domaine Valeta showed me a different way. They showed me that not only could California produce something with subtlety and restraint, but that it could also still retain a certain American identity. The reason there are so many fingers in this photo, is because this wine was a show stopper.
I returned to this wine several times. Which in a line up of St. Emilion’s Txocali Rosés, and lip smacking Pedro Jímenez from Spain; was extremely hard to do. I am truly thankful for that moment. Eye opening experiences like that are what keep me tethered to my goals. They are what make not only my job, but my life worth living. Time like this really make me love who I am and what I do.
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Ugh, Proscuitto + Honey + Herb Goat Cheese / Arugula x Pepper = My tongue weeping with every bite.
There are some dishes that are so simple and so good, that the sheer force of nature comes through with a clear honesty. I forgot how much I loved to eat.
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Cru Beaujolais is possibly one of my most favorite renditions of Burgundy. Moving past the horrible reputation that Beaujolais has gained amongst average wine drinkers, Cru Beauj (which is usually noted by the appellation name) is worlds apart from the watered down fruity plonk that is mass produced every year and labeled as “Nouveau”. This particular Beauj is from the sub-region of Moulin-Á-Vent (often compared to Fleurie or St. Amour; other subregions of Beaujolais) and serves as a perfect introduction into the wonderful realm of Gamay.
I don’t believe in point systems, because I ardently believe that bastardizes the purpose of great wine. Appointing this wine to a numerical system would denigrate its existence. Hence why I won’t say that it taste like its worth “90 stars” or what have you. I will simply speak about what this wine does to me.
Behind the earthy cherry and raspberry notes, wafts of wet soil and mushroom erupt from the glass. This wine reminds me of a memory I don’t have. A memory of bright red cranberries and black cherries strewn throughout the damp soil. This wine is like breathing in dried cherry skins and potting soil. It’s like drinking in autumn air.
Needless to say, this entry wasn’t truly meant to describe the wine. But to jump start what I wanted this blog to be. A recording of wine and food. It has been a long time since I’ve posted anything, and that hiatus has made me hungry for knowledge. And ready for exposure.
More post are surely on their way. So if you’re watching (which I doubt anyone actually is) keep an eye out for some awesome things.
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White Port. Fortified wine typically made from white varieties native to Portugal. This wine was an earth shatteringly complex. The toffee and butterscotch sweetness was balanced with nervous and tense acidity. It's so rare to find one of these in the states. I thank my friend for bringing this into my bar.
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Sancerre (Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire) is honestly one of my favorite treats. It's high floral notes and clean slate taste makes this wine an amazing sip. This wine in particular is so naked, it almost evokes a place or setting as opposed to a definable set of aromas and taste. I drink this wine and I am in the Loire Valley. Next to several gooseberry bushes and standing under a large apricot tree months before ripening.
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It's been a while since I posted anything. And here is the reason why. Last week I completed the first chapter in what will become the largest undertaking in my life. I'm posting this not so much as a humble brag, but documentation for myself. Even though it's not required of me (for any job in particular), Master Sommelier has become a bar that I personally have to clear. It's not a badge (even though they give you a pin), it's more like self validation. I've always wanted to be an authority on food and wine. Again not for the humble bragging rights. But for the confidence. For the confidence that others would have in my suggestions. It may seem silly, but here it is. The reason I have been gone, and the reason I will be posting sporadically.
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A customer, a chef that I have known for a little while, came in today looking for a type of wine to pair with a dish. He was actually looking for several bottles to pair with several dishes, and I chose them for him, going through his menu and deducing what would be the best choice. Moments like these are honestly the most fun I have at work, and I sincerely hope that they happen more often. But that isn't the moral of this story. At my job, sometimes but not always, I will decide to cellar particular bottles for customers who, basically, say the right buzz words. My days are often so fraught with questions about mediocre wine or (even worse) magnum bottles of white zinfandel that at I naturally get excited when a patron will allow me to interview them, and allow me deduce a wine for their particular needs. It just so happened that this chef was cooking a private dinner for a couple (their anniversary) and he wanted to make it special. So because he wanted to do so, so did I. This 2009 Chateau de Cruzeau was actually being saved for my future boyfriend (sorry future boyfriend) and our special moment of celebration. But when presented with such a wonderful opportunity to aid in someone's happiness, how could I resist? I fell in love with this bottle a few months ago when I shared it with a fellow wine lover. The complexity and longevity of this wine immediately enthralled me. It's so rare that a particular wine grabs me, shakes me, and then throws me back down; but this one does the trick. Going through the deductive tasting method to explain this wine wouldn't do it justice. And I felt that it would rob this wine of the particular magic it has. So I simply had to explain how it made me feel, and why I felt it would be the perfect bottle for this couple celebrating another year of each other. Of love. I'm normally not this gushy, but the idea of making (if only a little) their experience be even more memorable with a perfect pairing made me do the unspeakable. Go into my personal stash. (The chef saw my 2011 Moulin-a-Vent and wanted it, but he was politely denied). So all in all I had a good day. My only hope is that as I sit here drinking my not-Cruzeau; somewhere, somehow, that unknown couple is eating their rabbit and mushroom risotto; and comparing that poetic pairing to the one they themselves have created.
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Last night I had the absolute pleasure of attending a private dinner set by Traci Bryant and Kurt Ferguson of Nina (in Dunedin) and Mike Webb of Tupelo Catering. It is really rare for me, especially in my business of retail, to experience nights like these. Nights filled with laughter, good food, and most importantly, paired with good wine.
I had heard of their previous dinners (they had two earlier in the year), and I was quite excited to be a participant in the final dinner in the set. In a world filled with easy made cheeseburgers and pre-made mixes, finding food made by attentive chefs with an artistic vision for cuisine is a rarity to say the least. For a foodie like myself, the experience alone was like a godsend.
I must admit, I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. I had talked with the chefs before, and had geeked out with them about food over beers and homemade saké in the past, but this was something different. This was a meeting of the minds. A melding of similar interest. And ultimately a place and time for me to be highly critical of what was placed before me (which is always half the fun).
The night opened with a Hopping Head Rye Ale (which Kurt made himself in six days mind you) that was to be consumed once entering the building, and then again with the rabbit rillette. From here the courses came like clock work, with the staff being attentive and also meticulous.
I’m writing this article not to simply highlight the talented chefs that fed me last night, nor to laud over the simple gorging I undertook. I am writing this more as a testimony to what food can be, and what it hopefully will continue to be. Everything that was cooked, braised, pickled, and eventually consumed was locally grown. Locally caught, locally scavenged, or locally foraged.
Terroir is such an important concept in wine, that I often feel that it’s lost on food. Again, I stress that in a world where food comes off of conveyor belts the idea of place and setting seem to fade into the background. But not here. Not to the chefs at Nina and Tupelo. Last night, I felt that terroir was being given its pedestal to shine. Either from the Cedar clams that were caught less than twenty miles away, or the rabbit which was farmed raised and cut by a local butcher; the food had a place. Ultimately what I left with, was a firm idea in what Florida taste like. But not just all of Florida. My small pocket of Florida. Dunedin.
I am well aware that eating Pho and talking about Floridian terroir must seem at odd ends, but I truly believe what was displayed last night sets a precedent for cuisine. Chilean bass no longer seems appealing, when I could throw a stone out my window and hit a snapper in the gulf. Imported Wagyu beef seems almost sacrilegious when, unbeknownst to me, there are local farms, with local cows, that produce local beef.
I’ll try to not get too “preachy”, but I must say that what I witnessed last night was nothing short of magical. Like being the first one awake early on Christmas morning. Or entering an almost endless candy shop. I was giddy. Excited. Overcome. And eventually satisfied. And although this was the last dinner in their summer set, I have full confidence that this won’t be the last event that these chefs will be hosting. So if you’re interested, keep you eyes peeled and your stomachs ready.
The Menu
1. BROOKSVILLE RABBIT RILLETTES, LOCAL SOURDOUGH, PICKLES
Hoppin Red Rye ale
2. BAY SCALLOP CEVICHE
2014 Hermann J. Wiemer dry Riesling
3. CARPACCIO OF LOCAL BEEF, MORINGA, AVOCADO
Paul Bara Rose Brut Champagne
4. KHAO SOI, EGGPLANT, LONGEVITY SPINACH, TEMPEH
2014 Stadt Krems Gruner Veltliner
5. WATERMELON GAZPACHOFISHERMAN’S PHO’, LOCAL LAMB, CEDAR KEY CLAMS, OXTAIL
2013 Clos La Coutale
6. SUMMER MELON, PROSCIUTTO, HOUSE SODA
digestif: 2013 Nivole Moscato D’asti
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A very interesting look at Hungary’s most famous wine. Tokaji!!
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May I just start off by saying I love Garganega. Garganega is a white grape hailing from the eastern side of Italy that is often blended with Trebbiano to make what internationally has been known as Soave.
Soave is great. Soave is amazing. But this ain’t no Soave. This 100% Garganega is actually made in a similar style as an Amarone della Valpolicella; in which the grapes are hand selected and laid on straw mats and left to dry in order to concentrate those sweet sweet sugars.
To top things off this wine is aged on its lees for about six months, which gives this wine a bigger body and some much appreciated depth. But before I get beside myself lets break this wine down.
It pours an honest mead-like gold with a star bright brilliance. The aroma of the wine is explosive with barrages of candied white flowers, ripe peach, apricot gelee, and honeyed pears. The palate follows suit with beautifully integrated flavors of peach and pear. The wine is full bodied with a dry and long finish.
This wine is fat and proud of it. This wine is a beautiful plus sized woman who can have any man she wants. She’s a “Super White” (in the same vein as a Super Tuscan, where its a little indescribable) and a definite “must drink.”
The first dishes that come to mind when I had this wine was rich creamy white sauces, pasta, seafood, lobster, Zamboni, roasted chicken, herbaceous game birds, etc. This wine has just the right touch of acidity that allows for it to pair will a large array of dishes, or simply to be enjoyed by itself.
To finish off I will leave you with a thought to brood over: “ Marriage is like wine. It is not be properly judged until the second glass.” -Douglas William Jerrold
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Look what just got off the truck. Chateau d’Esclans Whispering Angel Rose. It am totally psyched to have this increasingly popular rose on our shelves.
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