Wine is More Than Fine by Barbara Quinn

Forget the water and bring on the wine. I’ve mentioned before that I was raised in an Italian-American household where wine was introduced without fuss during childhood. Fortunately, there were no alcoholics in my family and thus no fear that drinking could lead to alcoholism. Instead, we were able to enjoy our meals with every type of wine.

Back then there was a jug of Hearty Burgundy under the kitchen sink (oh no!)for our daily drinking. I didn’t care for it and was relieved when in summer we could slice the peaches from our yard into a pitcher of the wine to sweeten away the harshness. There was Cold Duck on special occasions and Vermouth before dinner. There were Chiantis, the ones with straw around the bottle. Most of the wines we drank were red, though I do remember my grandmother bringing bottles of Lacryma Christi(tears of Christ)a legendary southern Italian wine whose vines are said to have sprung from Christ's tears. My grandfather wielded a silver canister of seltzer to make us all the first version of wine spritzers. And he made terrible dandelion wine!

In college I drank the sweet stuff: Yago Sangria or Mateus Rose. As time passed I discovered the world of dry wine. French Chablis, Graves, Fumes, and Meursault, California Chardonnay, Italian Pinot Grigio. French Rhones, California Cabernets, Oregon Pinot Noirs, Spanish Tempranillos, Argentinian Malbecs.

It’s been a wonderful journey around the world via wine. My current favorites are reds: Pinot Noirs, Barolos, Barberas, Nero D’avolas, and Bordeaux (2005 was an excellent year so if you see any bargains from then snap them up!) When I do drink the occasional glass of white it’s likely to be a Viognier.

And the best thing about wine? More and more studies show that it’s good for your heart and may prevent ageing. So drink up. It's good for your health! And I am grateful for the grape.

Salud!

A Piece of Cake by Barbara Quinn

It’s nearly St. Patrick’s Day, the Irish High Holy Day, a holiday that I celebrate happily with my Irish-American husband. I love hearing Irish music, which is what we did last night, and going out for corned beef or shepherd’s pie. Tom has his Guinness and I my Tullamore Dew. But for me, St. Patrick’s Day also signals another holiday, one that is high in my Italian-American pastry pantheon: St. Joseph’s Day.

St. Joseph’s occurs March 19. This holiday is usually celebrated quietly and privately here in the United States. The thing that it is best known for in many Italian-American homes is the St. Joseph’s pastry. (How unusual, huh? an Italian holiday that revolves around food!) But some churches, including ones in Lousiana, construct intricate St. Joseph's altars, which are also popular in Southern Italy.

Many cultures have special cakes or pastries. One of my favorites is the King Cake which makes its appearance around Mardi Gras down in Lousiana. Every year someone mails me one and I am thrilled to receive it. A plastic baby that symbolizes the infant Jesus is hidden inside a rich icing covered coffee cake. The person who finds the babe gets good luck, and is responsible for bringing the next King Cake.

Growing up in an Italian-Americans home many of our holidays had special desserts. Easter had grana, a wheat pie, Christmas the honey-coated strufoli, and St. Joseph’s its two mouth-watering pastries: the cannoli filled sfinge, and the custard filled St. Jospeph’s zeppolle. The zeppole is not like the fried and powdered sugared one that they serve at street fairs. St. Joseph’s zeppole is a cream puff, often baked, and then split open and filled with a custard that may have almond and vanilla flavors, and cherry juice. The sfinge is often a fried dough, split and stuffed with a sweetened ricotta that is found in cannoli. Both types of pastries have their camps and fierce aficionados. I like them both. They’re a southern Italian tradition, popular in Naples and Sicily. They are my favorite harbinger of spring. I’m extremely grateful that they only appear for the month of March, or I’d be eating way too many of them.