After a trip to Beaujolais in 2003 I made it my mission in life to spread the word on real Gamay. I realized that most folks think all Beaujolais is Nouveau and is meant to taste like bubblegum and bananas. A far cry from the commercial crap, I was introduced to small producers such as Louis Claude Desvignes, Michel Tete, Jean Paul Brun, Georges Descombes and Pierre Chermette; I discovered that they made delicious wines that were fermented naturally and never chaptalize. Their wines boasted purity of fruit and many of them aged beautifully and get all pinotize (their way of saying that the wines take on a Pinot Noir like character when aged) especially the Morgons and Moulin a Vents. Upon my return I became a huge fan of Clos De Roilette and of course my sway towards natural wines taught me about Marcel Lapierre and Jules Chauvet. That fall, the year of my trip to the Beaujolais region, I threw an Anti-Nouveau Beaujolais Party on Beaujolais Nouveau day. It was a great success and Jim and I finally did a repeat performance last week.

Everyone brought along amazing bottles. We had three Lapierre Morgons (2006 and 2007), which showed stunning fruit. The 2006 was leaner and more streamlined than the fruitier ‘07 but both were gorgeous. The rest of the list: Dom de la Chapelle des Bois Fleurie 2006, Clos de la Roilette Fleurie 2006, Laurent Martray Brouilly “Corentin: 2006, Philippe Jambon Baltailles 2004 (arguably the best wine of the night and had that distinct prickle you find in the most natural of natural wines), 2 bottles of Jean-Claude Lapalu Brouilly (one ’06 and an ’07), Domaine du Vissoux Moulin a Vent Rochegres 2001 (it had aged beautifully) and finally a bottle of Dom des Terres Vivantes La Lutine Beaujolais-Villages 2007 – a newcomer from Charles Woods’ (formerly of David Bowler Wine) new importing company.

One unsuspecting guest didn’t quite get the concept and showed up with a bottle of George Duboeuf Beajolais Nouveau in hand. I had to hush the wine geeks in the room but ultimately it was a good thing the bottle made it past security. It proved my point. It reeked of synthetics and smelled just like banana smelling-and-tasting commercial yeast. Yuk.

Thanks to everyone who joined in the festivities and a special shout out to Tara, who made a very yummy Indian pudding, and Jim for cooking enough chili to serve an army. It was a fun party and all I have to say for now is: same time next year?

After just under a week in Rias Baixas on an Albarino press trip in late September, I flew down to Madrid. My new friend Arantza opened her home to me while she temporarily moved back in with mum and dad (gracias Arantza!). After staying in a bit of a creepy hotel where it was near impossible for me to get a decent night’s sleep it was heaven to shack up in cozy flat with a fabulous double bed. (A note to the Parador hotel in Pontevedra: two single beds pushed together makes not a double bed!).

The day after my arrival Jim and I had a rendez vous in Madrid, which is a fabulously romantic thing to do after a week apart. For the following eight days we took Madrid by storm. I don’t think there’s a neighborhood we didn’t cover. We legged it all over the city from Salamanca (the posh part of town) to Lavapies (the slightly grungy and cool neighborhood not far from the famous Rastro flea market).

Speaking of markets. We stayed in the Tetuan neighborhood, which is home to a huge indoor food market called Maravillas. On a Saturday afternoon, the fish stands, the butchers, the cheese and bread stands were heaving with locals stocking up for the weekend. JR and I purchased some fatty fresh sardines, flank steak, local goat’s cheeses, a bag of pimientos de padrón (piquant small green peppers that are as addictive as popcorn when sautéed in olive oil and liberally sprinkled with sea salt) and whatever vegetables we could find including some pretty fantastic, albeit cultivated, oyster mushrooms. We took the feast to the house of an old friend of mine from London, Fulvia, who lives with her boyfriend on the outskirts of the city in the neighborhood where some of Pedro Almodóvar’s Volver film was shot. We were joined by another blast from my London past, the very sweet and funny Pilar.

Fulvia (originally from Rome), like myself, has become a bit of a food and wine buff since leaving Ye Olde England. Imagine my uncontrolled delight when she pulled out a bottle of Jacques Selosse Contraste, the producer’s Blanc de Noirs champagne, which was incredibly stunning and very rich. (Eric Esimov wrote about the producer in last week’s NY Times). Fulvia and Ricardo worked the harvest in San Gimignano a few years ago and they opened a bottle that they had purchased from the producer: Montenidoli IL Templare 2001 an IGT wine made from Trebiano Toscano and Malvasia. It was a lovely wine, delicate balanced and herbacious. Fulvia told me the producer also made olive oil and worked organically. She waxed poetic about the olive oil declaring, “I had a tablespoon of it everyday – like medicine.” A lot more bottles were opened that night. I lost count but those were the memorable sips of the evening.

That Saturday night at Fulvia’s house was the only time Jim cooked. Madrid’s tapas bars are still relatively inexpensive and the quality is generally decent, if not delicious. I love the culture of tapas and for a person that’s perpetually hungry – like me – it’s a blessing to be able to nip into a bar grab a bite and wee glass of cerveza and split. Here’s a list of our edible highlights.

Restaurante Maestro Villa, Cava San Miguel, 8
Ricardo brought us here because the spot has a reputation for vino but he was just as disappointed as we were when we spotted boring, industrial wine bottles lining the shelves but we were won over by the chow and our first taste of natural Asturian cider. Funny enough, a lot of natural white wines remind me of house-made cider and this totally reminded me of a natural wine. The bottle, Trebanca Sidra Natural, was bone-dry, gently effervecsent, cloudy and delish. At only about 5-6 % alcohol we went through two bottles fast and were still fit for the rest of the night.

Los Asturianos, Calle Vallehermoso, 94
A craving for more Asturian cider took us to a part of town that was a bit of out of the way but according to other online sources, worth the trek. We bellied up to the bar and ordered up some morcilla, fried potatoes covered in melted blue goat cheese as well as a fresh salad of mache greens with anchovies. We ended the night with a tasting of their house sherry (two manzanillas – one was a pasado – a fino, amontiallo and PX) that were out of this world. The owner (Alberto) of Los Asturianos partnered with a group of fellow sherry fans to source small producer sherries from Salamanca and Jerez and bottle them under their own label called La Bota. In fact, the sherries were so good that we couldn’t wait to tell Fulvia and Ricardo about our discovery. We returned to Los Asturianos with F & R on our last night. This time the owner was expecting me and we were able to communicate more. We had him pick the dishes for the night, which ranged from a very earthy Angula de Campo, when translated means “baby eels of the countryside.” But the dish had nada to do with eels – it was a plate of these very small wild mushrooms that the owner explained were cooked in the same way eels are traditionally cooked in Asturios. Then the kitchen (operated my his mother!) brought out some delicious smoked cod served with kumatos (a local black tomato). Finally he brought out some cockles, which my tablemates devoured with great pleasure and a selection of Spanish cheeses. All of which were perfect with the salty Manzanilla.

Alberto also imports wines and he had a pretty good wine list, which included Pierre Gimonnet champagne by the bottle.

Taberna El Mano on Calle Vallehermoso
Situated a few blocks before Los Asturianos, we were beckoned into the tapas bar-restaurant by the great old-fashioned vibe of the spot and by the pimientos padron listed on the menu. The peppers were pure perfection. It was JR’s first time and I watched him gobble them up with excitement. The joint also served what looked like very good octopus and smoked cod on toasted bread. The vermouth on tap was excellent too. Next to natural ciders and sherries, our next favorite choice of quaff were all the sweet (but not cloying), herbaceous red vermouths on tap.

Casa Neru on Calle Bordadores
I ventured to Casa Neru the last time I was in Madrid and was determined to stop in again for some traditional tripe stew. It’s another bustling Asturian joint. A dear Spanish-crazed couple that visits Madrid often suggested the place to me. The wife is a food writer and has worked many years in restaurant kitchens where she picked up her Spanish via the largely South American staff she worked with, while the husband is a wine writer and editor of a trade publication based out of California. They told me that they always start their first night in Madrid at Casa Neru. Their ritual begins with a bottle of cider at the bar while waiting for a table downstairs at the restaurant. I love their attachment and sense of tradition.

Casa Neru is very old school and the same geezer tending the bar last time I was there (in 2003) is still working here. Jim and I ordered two glasses of vermouth on tap and a portion of the same dish I had in ’03 — callos madrileña — a HEAVY tripe stew. Jim wasn’t feeling too good, after all it was about Day 6 of our Spanish feast-fest but I was determined to eat the traditional Madrileños lunchtime repast. I ate about a quarter of the silky textured pieces of tripe, spotted with chunks of morcilla in a flavorful sauce tinted red with paprika. Oh what a waste. What a terrible waste, especially when the bartender told me I could have ordered a half portion. After my last self-force-fed spoon, my eyes were glazed over and the old guy sensed my discomfort and poured two glasses of a herbal Chartreuse-like digestif. It didn’t help. For the entire day I felt so damn full up. But it was worth the pain and I’ll do it again the next time around!

Matritum, Cava Alta, 17
We actually closed a bar one night in Madrid. I kid you not. It wasn’t even that late. Fulvia was severely shocked. “Never in my life this happen – it’s only one o clock in the morning. It’s very strange. I think it’s the economy you know. Peoples can’t afford to go out anymore,” she exclaimed in her Italian-English accent. It was in La Latina and Jim had read that it was a good wine bar. We stepped into a rather small and modern looking bar-restaurant. I spotted a wine I knew from Rias Baixas, that I really like, made from the Godello grape. We told the owner/wine buyer and he suggested another Godello that spends a fair amount of time on the lees and he said it had some nice mineral notes. I loved the wine: Guitan Godello 2006. It was all he said it was and yeasty with beautiful acidity too.

Ah Espania – I’ll be back again…