Wine Whine

It's no surprise that the wineries are calling to me. They combine much of what is right in my world. Working with the land, often family owned operations, craft in the making, art in the vinting, aroma, texture, creativity, food, calming vistas, conviviality, usually some music and a good wine buzz is just icing on the cake.

While cozying up in front of a crackling autumn fireplace with your sweetie and a glass of port is softly romantic, the warmer months let the wineries shine. Colored bottles sparkle in the sunlight. Birds sing and swoop to perch at table's edge, waiting for a crumb. Picnic blankets are spread on lawns, lovers resting heads in laps, watching clouds and stealing kisses. Laughter peals and ripples from group to group, that giddy sound that only a cocktail of sunshine and champagne can bring. Acoustic music wafts over the hillside and people sing in spite of themselves, suddenly unconscious of inhibition, and it's beautiful.

My husband and I had our third date at a winery. On a little patio covered with vines, dappled sun peeking down on us, he got me drunk on champagne, fed me strawberries and held my hand while we took in the sweeping view of the Augusta vineyards. It was the first of many winery trips that year, that decade, this lifetime. Eventually, I learned to love complex wines, and I learned to navigate our complex lives. But when we go back to the wineries, we're free of all that. It's just pure pleasure. No wonder the wineries call to me.

You, too, can Fumanchu

When the girl isn't busy trying to be rural, it's usually music or food that brings her out of her shell. Friday was a lucky day, it was both.

On the way to the Emily Kaitz concert at The Focal Point in Maplewood, we stumbled into the first night open of a new pan-Asian-fusion-y place called Fumanchu. I was really in the mood for "dirty Chinese" (you know, storefront fried rice of negligible origins eaten out of a greasy box while sitting someplace not quite legal), but Fumanchu's door was open so....what the hell?

It's all about the small plates, sushi, fushi (rolls made without fish) and bowls. The appetizer list is extensive, the sushi list not so much. We tried the Fumanchu sushi roll; spicy tuna, snow crab, smoked salmon & kiaware garnished with hoisin, & wasabi aioli. The spice of the tuna stood out, as did the unmistakable flavor of smoked salmon. The crab was sadly lost in the mix. Still, it was a standout munchie. As was the fushi wrap of Grilled Ginger Marinated Beef with mango cream cheese & scallions and Korean BBQ sauce. Ginger & beef always sit well together on my palate, and the fruity mellow cream cheese dually complimented those flavors. It was melt in your mouth good. Korean BBQ Pork Ribs from the appetizer list were three in number and meaty if a little dry, but the Peanut-Ginger-Lime Gremolata that they were stacked upon was the perfect Asian slaw, sweet & tangy.

Both of us being dumpling fans, we also ordered the Shumai Dumplings with pork. Opening day jitters brought us instead the Vegetarian Potstickers. That was serendipidous, as they turned out to be the better choice of the two. Not too doughy, they arrived to the table in a steamer, hot, flavorful and moist. The plum sauce was average, more than acceptable. Similarly presented, the Shumai Dumpling had a ginger-spicy pork filling, but was wrapped in a won-ton wrapper that needed more time in the steamer. It was served with Dragon Tail Sauce, which by name you'd have thought would be hot. It was satisfying, but could have been much hotter to our tastes. To make up for the error, they brought us out a complementary serving of Asian Guacamole. A fun twist on guac, using what seemed to be a pre-fab base accented with Asian herbs and spices. The fresh cilantro was welcome and the crispy won-ton chips with black sesame seeds were a nice touch, but not something I'd order again.

The endless appetizer list offered many things we would have liked to try, such as Honey Marinated Lamb Chops, Dynamite Mussels, Spicy Japanese Eggplant, Chicken Yakitori and Kobe Beef Sliders with Tempura Onion Rings. We also would have liked to try the Bowls; noodles or rice topped with beef, chicken, shrimp or tofu and a host of pick your poison ingredients and sauces, but were beginning to run out of time and still wanted to try dessert. We shared both the Ginger Creme Brulee and a Raspberry Mousse Wonton. The wonton was a bit like a sopapilla, and the raspberry mousse was as light as flavored air, not too sweet, plenty to share. The Creme Brulee was also sharing size. Its top was carmeled crisp for the fun of cracking into the creamy custard. It was very rich, even buttery, but did not have the punch of ginger that I'd expected. Still, I'd have it again.

Next time, we're going to get the Fumanchu You. "Let our chefs prepare non-menu items and favorites for you, until you can't take anymore! (Requires entire table participation) $32. per person." Oh yeah, we can eat a lot of Asian small plate stuff. Like Homer Simpson in an all you can eat do0nut shop. Scary.

Fu Man Chu seems to be a new offering from the folks that brought us BARcelona in Clayton. You'll find a full bar, tall tables, normal tables and booths in the old Grateful Grill space. Tin ceiling, old wood plank floors and that wonderful bar is still there. A lovely deck with low Asian table seating is out back and there is a host of well trained, polite wait staff eager to earn their tips. Give them a try, we're glad we did.

Easter

Easter is as early as anyone living will ever see it again, so they say. The first day of spring has come and gone. Daffodils are about to burst into bloom, redbuds, forsythia and saucer magnolias are right behind. Right behind in the cold.

Tomorrow churches will be filled with little girls shivering in cute spring dresses and sandals. Overflow brunchers won't be milling about outside waiting for their table. Like a 60 degree Christmas without snow, Easter just won't seem right this year.

The spot where I had the best Easter ever is currently under water. Flood waters have engulfed the picnic grounds at Meramec State Park. The first Easter I spent with my husband, long before we married, he thought he'd take me to his church. It was a huge congregation and there was no room to attend except via closed circuit TV in the church's already packed basement. No, I said, not gonna do it. So we swung back by the house and grabbed charcoal and a cooler, tossed in wine, little baby filet mignons, beer, potato salad, chips & dip and some other stuff, and headed out to MSP. Here we were in our church clothes, drinkin' and grillin', KSHE's "Easter with the folks" blarin', frisbee flyin'. It was beautiful and warm; I kicked off my shoes, stripped off my hose and ran through the grass like a child. He told me the story of his friends' nearly doomed Easter float trip. I told him about dying eggs with onion skins, coffee, tea and beet and spinach juice. We sang with the radio, watched the river and napped on a blanket in the shade. Ever since then, I have wanted to relive that Easter. Nothing has ever come close.