Monday, December 6, 2010
Miscellaneous: Rain (December 4-6 2010)
Today was the first clear day in several days. It rained throughout the weekend, adding another 1.2 inches of precipitation here. That brings our 2010-2011 total to 11.1 inches. Average historical rainfall in Santa Rosa is about 7.49 inches for December 6, so we are well ahead of normal so far this rainy season.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Music I'm writing: String Quartet No. 6
I've just finished writing my sixth string quartet. I've never heard it (or anything I've written) performed, but the computerized renditions produced by my notation software (Sibelius) appear to be reasonably good facsimiles of what an actual performance would sound like. The following link will allow you to download an Mp4 file of the composition, but the link will be good only through December 9. If you really want to hear it after that, let me know. I'll send you a copy of the file.
String Quartet No 6.m4a
String Quartet No 6.m4a
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Miscellaneous: Baby Names
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| Image by © Royalty-Fr |
The people who keep track of these things today announced the most popular baby names of 2010--although it seems premature; we still have 29 days to go. I was surprised to see Aiden, a rather British-sounding name at the top of the list of boys' names (is this the Harry Potter effect?)--but I must be out of touch; apparently Aiden has been the leader for six years now. Colin, another rather British-sounding name, came in at 58. Sophia is apparently the most popular moniker to tag a baby girl with, followed by Isabella and Olivia--all rather girly names. I was surprised to see Brooklyn at number 38. Brooklyn? I thought only blues musicians were named after places (although usually states and big Southern cities). Cadence (at no. 70) and Kennedy (at 74) seem odd choices for a girl as well.
Brooklyn seems to have some sort of international appeal, though, along with Cincinnati--but in this case, not as names. I spent the summer of 2010 in Europe, mostly in southern France. I was surprised to see many T-shirts there with references to Brooklyn and Cincinnati on them. Alas for the Cincinnati boosters, it was always spelled "Cincinati." Why? I have no idea, but there's a story in there somewhere. Is it a coincidence that Cincinnati has its own John Roebling-designed bridge that looks very much like the Brooklyn Bridge?
I was reminded of the antique bronze globe that to this day stands on the grounds of Narita-san, the vast temple complex in Narita, the town that hosts Japan's largest international airport. Important world cities are marked on the globe, including Cincinnati, attesting to that city's stature at the time the globe was made. Unfortunately (again) the name is cast incorrectly as the equivalent of "Cincinna City" (in Japanese, シンシナ市). "Shi," as the final "ti" of Cincinnati is pronounced in Japanese, just happens to mean "city" in that language, so the globe makers assumed the place was called "Cincinna" with "City" on the end, as in Oklahoma City. Oh well, I hear Cincinnati's a fine place to live these days.
Birds I'm Watching: Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge
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| © Colin Talcroft, 2010 |
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| © Colin Talcroft, 2010 |
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Miscellaneous: Odd Facade
I walk by this row of houses on the way to my son's school on mornings we get up early enough to walk--it's more than a mile each way. They've always struck me as odd. Here, the garage has completely taken over from the front door. No attempt has been made to create a sense of welcome. Guests aren't a consideration. Even the people who live here have been subordinated to their cars. Practical perhaps, but these houses always make me uncomfortable.
Planted along the street are several tall palm trees. I've always wondered if they were part of the development or leftovers from earlier landscaping. I've heard it was fashionable here in Victorian times to plant a pair of palm trees in front of your house and that the plantings were intended as a sign of welcome. I've never been able to confirm this, but I believe it's true because old houses in the area (especially in towns like Sebastopol and St. Helena, and in the older sections of Santa Rosa and Petaluma) often do have a pair of palms in front, usually straddling the driveway, and because in open country, an old house is sometimes discernible a very long way off because of its paired palms. I've seen a pair of palm trees, or just one, at the head of empty lots in positions that make it easy to imagine where a long-gone house once stood.
And so, I wonder about the palm trees that are planted seemingly haphazardly along the street here. They don't seem to have any relationship to the garage facades that now dominate the view. Perhaps they mark the entrances of a line of older houses that once stood along this street. I don't know. But I wonder about it.
Planted along the street are several tall palm trees. I've always wondered if they were part of the development or leftovers from earlier landscaping. I've heard it was fashionable here in Victorian times to plant a pair of palm trees in front of your house and that the plantings were intended as a sign of welcome. I've never been able to confirm this, but I believe it's true because old houses in the area (especially in towns like Sebastopol and St. Helena, and in the older sections of Santa Rosa and Petaluma) often do have a pair of palms in front, usually straddling the driveway, and because in open country, an old house is sometimes discernible a very long way off because of its paired palms. I've seen a pair of palm trees, or just one, at the head of empty lots in positions that make it easy to imagine where a long-gone house once stood.
And so, I wonder about the palm trees that are planted seemingly haphazardly along the street here. They don't seem to have any relationship to the garage facades that now dominate the view. Perhaps they mark the entrances of a line of older houses that once stood along this street. I don't know. But I wonder about it.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Miscellaneous: Fiverr Continues to Grow
Earlier this year, I discovered Fiverr, an interesting Web site that allows people to post "gigs." These are small jobs that people offer to do for five dollars. That's the gimmick; every job has to be offered for a fiver. I've been watching the site develop. I thought it a great idea from the outset. Evidently, I'm not alone. The site has continued to grow, and there are now too many gigs to count, but at least the Fiverr administrators have added new categories that make it easier to find what you're looking for--or maybe what you didn't know you were looking for. Some of what's on offer is pointless, some is whimsical good fun, some is more serious. What continues to astound me is that a lot of what people offer for a mere five dollars is clearly a stunningly good value.
To take just one example, Silverz (her screen name) will take any photo you send her and remove the background for you for five dollars (click here). I've been using Photoshop since version 2.0. This is something I could do myself, but it's tedious work, time-consuming, and easy to botch. If you don't know how to do it, your only option is to go to a printer or similar store where they'll charge you a hefty hourly fee to do this sort of thing. Look at the detail in the hair here (photo above). Five dollars? Next-day delivery? Really? Brilliant! I'm very glad to see the Fiverr marketplace thriving.
To take just one example, Silverz (her screen name) will take any photo you send her and remove the background for you for five dollars (click here). I've been using Photoshop since version 2.0. This is something I could do myself, but it's tedious work, time-consuming, and easy to botch. If you don't know how to do it, your only option is to go to a printer or similar store where they'll charge you a hefty hourly fee to do this sort of thing. Look at the detail in the hair here (photo above). Five dollars? Next-day delivery? Really? Brilliant! I'm very glad to see the Fiverr marketplace thriving.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Tidbits: Clear Weather for Travel
Following storms in the past few days, the weather has cleared. Cold, but a beautiful day today. Perfect day for traveling. Perfect day for leaving, for arriving, for taking photos of pretty things along the way.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Miscellaneous: More Autumn Color
Walking today, I looked down to find this pretty leaf at my feet, plastered to the pavement still wet with last night's rain. I looked around but couldn't find the tree, a tulip tree, anywhere. Where did this drop in from?
Miscellaneous: Autumn Color
Not far from my house is a winding, hilly street lined with trees that turn to brilliant red and orange every autumn. The trees have red berries much relished by bluebirds (which otherwise aren't around much). Even wild turkeys fly up into the trees to get these berries. Late in the afternoon, the setting sun can make the whole street seem like it's lined with torches. Beautiful.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Miscellaneous: Rain (November 20-21, 2010)
Another storm passed through yesterday and last night. We got an additional 1.3 inches here. That brings our total for the 2010-2011 rainy season to 8.9 inches, which is well more than two inches ahead of normal for this date and a quarter of the way to the average annual rainfall for Santa Rosa, which is 31.01 inches.
[Update: On the night of the 22nd, another 0.3 inches fell and it looks like more is on the way. Our total is now 9.2 inches.]
[Update: Since then, another 0.7 inches, to bring the total to 9.9 inches.]
[Update: On the night of the 22nd, another 0.3 inches fell and it looks like more is on the way. Our total is now 9.2 inches.]
[Update: Since then, another 0.7 inches, to bring the total to 9.9 inches.]
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Miscellaneous: 75th Anniversary of Transpacific Airmail
Surprisingly, the US Postal Service has made virtually no effort to commemorate the upcoming 75th anniversary of transpacific airmail service. A 50th anniversary stamp was issued. Call me a nerd, but I would have thought this anniversary (Monday, 22 November 2010) was worth a stamp as well.
The post office at Alameda will use a commemorative cancellation on the 22nd. It was from Alameda in San Francisco Bay (near what is now the Alameda Naval Air Museum) that Pan-Am's clippers left for Manila by way of Honolulu, Midway, Wake, and Guam to deliver commercial mail across the Pacific by air for the first time on 22 November 1935. It took about a week to get to Manila. Remarkably, a letter from the San Francisco Bay Area to Manila still takes about a week (although overnight delivery by courier--a service we take for granted--would have been impossible back then). What is significant though, is that prior to the air service a transpacific letter would have gone by boat, taking 21 days or more just to reach Honolulu.
I first got interested in stamp collecting in grade school, but became more serious about it in high school, in large part because of an envelope my mother gave me that had flown the Pacific on the transpacific route, from Manila to Omaha, Nebraska, in 1937. It had been given to her by someone in the Dayton Stamp Club--when it would have been only a few years old (photo above). Both my mother and her mother were stamp collectors.
I loved the colorful cover because it was adorned with fancy cachets from Wake and Midway and had been backstamped at all the locations on the route, including Hong Kong and Macau, destinations added in 1937--which doesn't make much sense unless the envelope went from Manila to these last destinations and then made the entire return trip through Manila again, to San Francisco (Alameda) and then on to Nebraska. The cover was probably made as a courtesy for a collector by a Pan-Am employee--it's the only one I've ever seen that appears to have every possible marking from the route on it (the reverse is reproduced above). Considering the history it embodies and the pleasure it's given me over the years, it seems worth the effort to make some commemorative covers of my own for the 75th anniversary for someone else to enjoy someday. I'll be driving down to Alameda on Monday to get the cancellation for the cachet I designed (based on a vintage Pan-Am poster).
[Update: A crew from Chinese-language TV station KTSF showed up while I was getting my cancellations. They interviewed me, as I knew more about the history of the original flights than the Post Office people seemed to. As usual with these things, most of what I said was edited out and what they used seems fairly random, but, there it is.]
The post office at Alameda will use a commemorative cancellation on the 22nd. It was from Alameda in San Francisco Bay (near what is now the Alameda Naval Air Museum) that Pan-Am's clippers left for Manila by way of Honolulu, Midway, Wake, and Guam to deliver commercial mail across the Pacific by air for the first time on 22 November 1935. It took about a week to get to Manila. Remarkably, a letter from the San Francisco Bay Area to Manila still takes about a week (although overnight delivery by courier--a service we take for granted--would have been impossible back then). What is significant though, is that prior to the air service a transpacific letter would have gone by boat, taking 21 days or more just to reach Honolulu.
I first got interested in stamp collecting in grade school, but became more serious about it in high school, in large part because of an envelope my mother gave me that had flown the Pacific on the transpacific route, from Manila to Omaha, Nebraska, in 1937. It had been given to her by someone in the Dayton Stamp Club--when it would have been only a few years old (photo above). Both my mother and her mother were stamp collectors.
I loved the colorful cover because it was adorned with fancy cachets from Wake and Midway and had been backstamped at all the locations on the route, including Hong Kong and Macau, destinations added in 1937--which doesn't make much sense unless the envelope went from Manila to these last destinations and then made the entire return trip through Manila again, to San Francisco (Alameda) and then on to Nebraska. The cover was probably made as a courtesy for a collector by a Pan-Am employee--it's the only one I've ever seen that appears to have every possible marking from the route on it (the reverse is reproduced above). Considering the history it embodies and the pleasure it's given me over the years, it seems worth the effort to make some commemorative covers of my own for the 75th anniversary for someone else to enjoy someday. I'll be driving down to Alameda on Monday to get the cancellation for the cachet I designed (based on a vintage Pan-Am poster).[Update: A crew from Chinese-language TV station KTSF showed up while I was getting my cancellations. They interviewed me, as I knew more about the history of the original flights than the Post Office people seemed to. As usual with these things, most of what I said was edited out and what they used seems fairly random, but, there it is.]
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wines I'm Making: 2010 Cabernet Sauvignon/Cabernet Franc
Following a day of bird watching out at Bodega Bay, I racked, sulfited, and topped up all the 2010 wines and added oak staves to the Cabernet. This year I didn't bother with the rather tedious process of testing using paper chromatography to see if the malolactic fermentation had finished in the Cabernet wines. I'm taking it on faith. All bubbling had stopped and the wines have had enough time, I believe, to complete a malolactic fermentation (I inoculated them on October 25, so they had 24 days).
Everything looks good. I've moved the wines to a quiet, cool, dark place. Now, begins the waiting that is most of the winemaker's work. The rosé will probably be ready for bottling around Christmas time. The Cabernet will have to be racked two or three more times before bottling, at around this time next year. In sampling the wine as I racked it today, it seemed to have a particularly marked Cabernet spiciness. We'll see if that persists in the finished wine.
2010 marks our seventh vintage. The vines were planted in 2001, first bore fruit in 2003, and we first made wine in 2004 (the bottle on the far right above). There ought to be six bottles in the picture--2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and the just-bottled 2009 (far left)--but we lost nearly all the grapes to raccoons in 2005. I made only six bottles of rather wretched stuff that year and I didn't bother to label it. In every other year, I've designed a new label. The 2008 and 2009 wines have been the best so far, with the 2007 showing the first real promise from the little vineyard. I have high hopes for the 2010, although it's likely to be less ripe than last year's wine because of the strange weather this season. I haven't tasted the 2004 in several years. It's time for a vertical tasting. What a luxury to be able to do a five-year vertical tasting of wines I've made myself.
Everything looks good. I've moved the wines to a quiet, cool, dark place. Now, begins the waiting that is most of the winemaker's work. The rosé will probably be ready for bottling around Christmas time. The Cabernet will have to be racked two or three more times before bottling, at around this time next year. In sampling the wine as I racked it today, it seemed to have a particularly marked Cabernet spiciness. We'll see if that persists in the finished wine.
2010 marks our seventh vintage. The vines were planted in 2001, first bore fruit in 2003, and we first made wine in 2004 (the bottle on the far right above). There ought to be six bottles in the picture--2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, and the just-bottled 2009 (far left)--but we lost nearly all the grapes to raccoons in 2005. I made only six bottles of rather wretched stuff that year and I didn't bother to label it. In every other year, I've designed a new label. The 2008 and 2009 wines have been the best so far, with the 2007 showing the first real promise from the little vineyard. I have high hopes for the 2010, although it's likely to be less ripe than last year's wine because of the strange weather this season. I haven't tasted the 2004 in several years. It's time for a vertical tasting. What a luxury to be able to do a five-year vertical tasting of wines I've made myself.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Books I'm Reading: The Theory of Almost Everything
Periodically, I subject myself to a little reading about physics. It's a difficult subject, but it interests me, and I can't help thinking that an educated person ought to understand how the universe works. Typically, I find it hard to retain the sometimes mind-boggling ideas that modern physics forces us to accept. Each time, though, I feel like I come a little closer to understanding.
I just finished reading Robert Oerter's The Theory of Almost Everything (Plume, 2006) and feel like I've made a quantum leap (pun intended--but the phrase is apt). Perhaps it's just because I've continued to read about physics over the years--it was bound to make more and more sense just by virtue of exposure--, but I feel Oerter's book is exceptionally clear and well written. It puts the whole progression of human thinking about the stuff of the universe into historical perspective, from Newton to string theory (and made it clear to me for the first time how string theory developed out of earlier models). The book talks a great deal about why none of the theories we have today is yet good enough (for example, all current models more or less ignore gravity). At the same time, however, the author makes it clear just how brilliant the currently accepted Standard Model is, despite its deficiencies. The book is something of a celebration of the Standard Model, which Oerter calls the crowning achievement of human thought in the past 100 years. Illuminating, and, given the difficulty of the subject, remarkably easy to follow. Highly recommended--if you like this sort of stuff, that is.
I just finished reading Robert Oerter's The Theory of Almost Everything (Plume, 2006) and feel like I've made a quantum leap (pun intended--but the phrase is apt). Perhaps it's just because I've continued to read about physics over the years--it was bound to make more and more sense just by virtue of exposure--, but I feel Oerter's book is exceptionally clear and well written. It puts the whole progression of human thinking about the stuff of the universe into historical perspective, from Newton to string theory (and made it clear to me for the first time how string theory developed out of earlier models). The book talks a great deal about why none of the theories we have today is yet good enough (for example, all current models more or less ignore gravity). At the same time, however, the author makes it clear just how brilliant the currently accepted Standard Model is, despite its deficiencies. The book is something of a celebration of the Standard Model, which Oerter calls the crowning achievement of human thought in the past 100 years. Illuminating, and, given the difficulty of the subject, remarkably easy to follow. Highly recommended--if you like this sort of stuff, that is.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Birds I'm Watching: Spring Lake (November 10, 2010)
I joined a group yesterday for a quick morning walk around Spring Lake while waiting for work to come in. It was a warm and misty morning, but quickly cleared and there was a lot of activity. For some reason, there were ruby-crowned kinglets everywhere. I counted more than 20. In total, the group saw more than 30. One was rather cooperative as I took its picture (above). A Great egret was equally cooperative, posed (uncharacteristically) on a very high branch (below). Got excellent views of a sharp-shinned hawk and crow fighting overhead. Two female ring-necked ducks were unusual. There were nine buffleheads on the lake, first of the season for me. Winter is approaching.
Birds I saw were: Canada goose, Mallard (140), Ring-necked duck, Bufflehead, Ruddy duck, California quail, Pied-billed grebe, Eared grebe, Double-crested cormorant, Great blue heron, Great egret, Green heron, Turkey vulture, Sharp-shinned hawk, Cooper's Hawk, Red-shouldered hawk, Merlin, Sora (heard only), Coot, Ring-billed gull, Belted kingfisher, Acorn woodpecker, Downy woodpecker, Flicker, Black phoebe, Hutton's vireo, Steller's jay, Scrub jay, Crow, Raven, Chestnut-backed chickadee, Titmouse, bushtits, Bewick's wren, Ruby-crowned kinglet (20+), Hermit thrush, Robin, Cedar waxwing, Yellow-rumped warbler (both Audubon's and Myrtle types), Townsend's warbler, Spotted towhee, California towhee, White-crowned sparrow, Golden-crowned sparrow, Purple finch, House finch, and American goldfinch. Forty-nine species in total.
The merlin was a first for me and the purple finch a first in Sonoma County for me. That brings my Sonoma County total to 190, my life total to 321.
For more information about bird watching in Sonoma County, see my Website Sonoma County Bird Watching Spots
Birds I saw were: Canada goose, Mallard (140), Ring-necked duck, Bufflehead, Ruddy duck, California quail, Pied-billed grebe, Eared grebe, Double-crested cormorant, Great blue heron, Great egret, Green heron, Turkey vulture, Sharp-shinned hawk, Cooper's Hawk, Red-shouldered hawk, Merlin, Sora (heard only), Coot, Ring-billed gull, Belted kingfisher, Acorn woodpecker, Downy woodpecker, Flicker, Black phoebe, Hutton's vireo, Steller's jay, Scrub jay, Crow, Raven, Chestnut-backed chickadee, Titmouse, bushtits, Bewick's wren, Ruby-crowned kinglet (20+), Hermit thrush, Robin, Cedar waxwing, Yellow-rumped warbler (both Audubon's and Myrtle types), Townsend's warbler, Spotted towhee, California towhee, White-crowned sparrow, Golden-crowned sparrow, Purple finch, House finch, and American goldfinch. Forty-nine species in total.The merlin was a first for me and the purple finch a first in Sonoma County for me. That brings my Sonoma County total to 190, my life total to 321.
For more information about bird watching in Sonoma County, see my Website Sonoma County Bird Watching Spots
Monday, November 8, 2010
Rain: November 6-7, 2010
We had another night of rain on the 6th. The storm added 1.5 inches to our total. The total at this location for the 2010-2011 rainy season now stands at 7.4 inches. That's well ahead of the historical average of 3.26 inches for November 8.
[Update: There was another 0.15 inches on November 8-9, bringing the total so far to 7.55 inches.]
[Update: There was another 0.15 inches on November 8-9, bringing the total so far to 7.55 inches.]
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wines I'm Making: A Busy Time of Year (2010)
This is a busy time of year because of all the winemaking going on--a winery in miniature is in operation here. Yesterday I bottled the 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon/Cabernet Franc to make room for the Sangiovese rosé in the only six-gallon containers I have. The rosé appeared to be mostly finished fermenting--on day 18, the longest fermentation I've done so far. But I 'm only the shepherd; the time it takes is the time it takes. Next chore (although a pleasant one) will be to design labels for the 2009 wines--and, before too long, for the 2010 rosé; the rosé should be ready to sample by around Christmas.
The turbid, fermenting rosé was beginning to clear as the action of the yeast slowed, and the wine tasted dry, so I thought it best to limit oxygen exposure by racking the wines into a single big container. I sulfited lightly (four Campden tablets in six gallons plus three fifths, or about 40ppm). Sulfite is supposed to kill any yeast still alive, but I suspect it wasn't enough because the wine continues to send up streams of fine bubbles, and the airlock is still percolating. That's just as well. The new rosé is now protected from oxidation at least to some extent by the sulfites and the lack of air space in the new container, and any ongoing fermentation will make the wine completely dry, the way I like it.
I put the 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon/Franc into 30 bottles but left one uncorked. We tasted it last night for the first time. It was in shock from the bottling and the sulfiting, so not at its best, but it was enough to get a first impression. I'm very pleased. I reserved some overnight in a decanter, helping to blow off sulfites and giving the wine air--it had developed some lovely leathery scents, rose-like scents, and cocoa scents. The palate was broader and more generous too, again marked by leather and cocoa. An excellent effort, if I say so myself. The photo shows toasted oak staves that were in the resting wine for a full year and the siphon filling bottles.
The 2010 Cab is still in the front room undergoing malolactic fermentation. Soon that will be done. It's been 11 days since the wine was inoculated. Activity appears to have slowed, but malolactic fermentations can be hard to judge. I will have to test it. I have every reason to hope the 2010 wine will be better even than the wine just bottled--the vines are a year older, I know what I'm doing now, the vines didn't suffer from mold or critter attacks (raccoons) because I've got the sulfur spraying, netting, summer trimming, and electric fence down to a routine now. As long as the weather cooperates. This year, we made good wine despite difficult weather. Should be ready for anything now--except the unexpected.
The turbid, fermenting rosé was beginning to clear as the action of the yeast slowed, and the wine tasted dry, so I thought it best to limit oxygen exposure by racking the wines into a single big container. I sulfited lightly (four Campden tablets in six gallons plus three fifths, or about 40ppm). Sulfite is supposed to kill any yeast still alive, but I suspect it wasn't enough because the wine continues to send up streams of fine bubbles, and the airlock is still percolating. That's just as well. The new rosé is now protected from oxidation at least to some extent by the sulfites and the lack of air space in the new container, and any ongoing fermentation will make the wine completely dry, the way I like it.
I put the 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon/Franc into 30 bottles but left one uncorked. We tasted it last night for the first time. It was in shock from the bottling and the sulfiting, so not at its best, but it was enough to get a first impression. I'm very pleased. I reserved some overnight in a decanter, helping to blow off sulfites and giving the wine air--it had developed some lovely leathery scents, rose-like scents, and cocoa scents. The palate was broader and more generous too, again marked by leather and cocoa. An excellent effort, if I say so myself. The photo shows toasted oak staves that were in the resting wine for a full year and the siphon filling bottles.
The 2010 Cab is still in the front room undergoing malolactic fermentation. Soon that will be done. It's been 11 days since the wine was inoculated. Activity appears to have slowed, but malolactic fermentations can be hard to judge. I will have to test it. I have every reason to hope the 2010 wine will be better even than the wine just bottled--the vines are a year older, I know what I'm doing now, the vines didn't suffer from mold or critter attacks (raccoons) because I've got the sulfur spraying, netting, summer trimming, and electric fence down to a routine now. As long as the weather cooperates. This year, we made good wine despite difficult weather. Should be ready for anything now--except the unexpected.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Miscellaneous: Bird Brains
I have 32 vines in my backyard, about a third Sangiovese, the rest Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc. What has that got to do with birds you ask? Read on.
Yesterday, while lazing around the house, on a day free of work, I was stretched out on the sofa, reading The New York Review of Books. I began to hear a metallic scratching noise, but it stopped and I went back to reading. Until I heard it again. I didn't really feel like moving so I tried to ignore the sound, but after about ten minutes of distraction I followed the noise to its source. A California Towhee was valiantly battling its own reflection in the stainless steel sides of the grape crusher I'd washed and left out to dry by the front door (the 2010 grape harvest at my house has recently finished).
Nearly everyone has a story about something amazing crows do. Around here, they're known for cracking the walnuts they forage from the walnut groves by either dropping them from lampposts or leaving them in the street to let cars run over them. I've heard that certain crows in Sweden have learned to cover solar cells that control outdoor lights with their wings in the winter so that the lights come on and provide warmth. At the other end of the scale, I've read that a tom turkey will happily attempt to copulate with empty space if a lightbulb is suspended for it at the right height to suggest the head of a female turkey. Clearly some birds are smarter than others.
Last year for a few weeks a Spotted Towhee perched every morning on one of the side mirrors of my car and attacked its own image, believing the reflection to be an intruder. Is this a towhee thing? They are territorial birds. Where do towhees rank on the scale of bird intelligence? Is it smart to recognize your own image as another bird but not as yourself? I don't know, but I was impressed by the persistence of the California Towhee yesterday. He was at it off and on almost the entire day. I tried to explain the illusion to him. He didn't want to listen. Today I'll put the crusher away, ready for next season. Don't want to tire him out.
Yesterday, while lazing around the house, on a day free of work, I was stretched out on the sofa, reading The New York Review of Books. I began to hear a metallic scratching noise, but it stopped and I went back to reading. Until I heard it again. I didn't really feel like moving so I tried to ignore the sound, but after about ten minutes of distraction I followed the noise to its source. A California Towhee was valiantly battling its own reflection in the stainless steel sides of the grape crusher I'd washed and left out to dry by the front door (the 2010 grape harvest at my house has recently finished).
Nearly everyone has a story about something amazing crows do. Around here, they're known for cracking the walnuts they forage from the walnut groves by either dropping them from lampposts or leaving them in the street to let cars run over them. I've heard that certain crows in Sweden have learned to cover solar cells that control outdoor lights with their wings in the winter so that the lights come on and provide warmth. At the other end of the scale, I've read that a tom turkey will happily attempt to copulate with empty space if a lightbulb is suspended for it at the right height to suggest the head of a female turkey. Clearly some birds are smarter than others.
Last year for a few weeks a Spotted Towhee perched every morning on one of the side mirrors of my car and attacked its own image, believing the reflection to be an intruder. Is this a towhee thing? They are territorial birds. Where do towhees rank on the scale of bird intelligence? Is it smart to recognize your own image as another bird but not as yourself? I don't know, but I was impressed by the persistence of the California Towhee yesterday. He was at it off and on almost the entire day. I tried to explain the illusion to him. He didn't want to listen. Today I'll put the crusher away, ready for next season. Don't want to tire him out.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Wines I'm Drinking: Pinot Egregio?
Last night I tasted all seven of the Pinot Grigio wines currently available at my Trader Joe's (Santa Rosa, CA). I don't normally drink Pinot Grigio much, but I was interested to see the wines were priced between $3.99 and $6.99 a bottle (mostly $3.99) except one--which was $19.99. I wanted to know if the expensive wine, the 2009 Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio, was worth the money. I'm the curious sort. As usual, I tasted the wines blind. All seven were from Italy, mostly from the area around Venice. All were from the 2009 vintage. The wines I tasted were:
Pale gold. The only wine in the group that had any sort of a nose to it. Really stood out by comparison. Strong floral scents. Nectarines. Roses? Suggestive of a Viognier wine. Similar on the palate. Some peachy, nectarine, apricot flavors. A bit longer than some of the others. Actually has a little body to it. Slight interesting bitterness on the finish. At least it has a finish. While this stood out, it was mostly by comparison. The wine was a bit sweet, fairly one-dimensional, and thin. This has some immediate appeal but it's the sort of wine that's easy to quickly tire of. If you like an easy, slightly sweet ,very light white wine for sipping, however, it's likely to appeal.
In conclusion, I wouldn't write off Pinot Grigio entirely, as it's sometimes tempting to do. Collio in Italy makes some of the best--notably the wines of Livio Felluga (I noticed recently that the new Santa Rosa Whole Foods has the Livio Felluga Collio Pinot Grigio). There are good examples coming out of Oregon and Washington State. Having said that, none of the wines reviewed here is much of a recommendation for the grape. Not only was the Santa Margherita wine little better than the others, none of the wines was especially interesting. The best I've had recently is probably the 2008 Villa Teresa Pinot Grigio they've been pouring at Café Della Stelle, in San Francisco. Pinot Grigio can, in fact, be excellent.
- 2009 Gaetano D'Aquino Pinot Grigio delle Venezie
- 2009 Santa Margherita Valdadige Pinot Grigio
- 2009 Contadino "Vivace" Pinot Grigio delle Venezie
- 2009 Mezzacorona Vigneti delle Dolomiti Pinot Grigio
- 2009 Contadino Pinot Grigio delle Venezie
- 2009 Villa Borghetti "Grigio Luna" Pinot Grigio delle Venezie
- 2009 Villa Sonia Pinot Grigio Piave
2009 Gaetano D'Aquino Pinot Grigio delle Venezie ($3.99 at Trader Joe's)
In ripe years, this producer is responsible for some decent, very inexpensive Chianti Classico wines, also available at Trader Joe's. The Gaetano D'Aquino Pinot Grigio was a very pale straw color. The nose offered very little. There was a hint of pears at first but not a lot else. Later the nose seemed simply grapey with nothing distinctive about it. The wine was clean and tart and rather thin. Not a lot of flavor. Although it was a trifle sweeter on the mid-palate, it mostly tasted like water with a few lemon slices thrown in. Perhaps a suggestion of almonds? Not unpleasant, but of no special interest.
2009 Santa Margherita Valdadige Pinot Grigio ($19.99 at Trader Joe's)
Very pale gold. Distant caramel scents but little else at first. A hint of almonds and some musky scents later. A little more complex than the first wine, but generally similar. Somewhat drier but mostly tastes like lemon water. Only moderate body and flavor. Why does this wine cost so much more than the others?
2009 Contadino "Vivace" Pinot Grigio delle Venezie ($4.99 at Trader Joe's)
It was obvious from the outset which wine this was because it's made with a little fizz in it and the bubbles were apparent. None of the other wines had any fizz.Very pale gold. Tiny bubbles. Has the scent of grain or toasted grain. Apricots perhaps? A little sweet, so more body than the first two wines, but no more flavor. Somewhat heavy and quickly tires the palate. Otherwise a rather dull wine with little to recommend it. Might be attractive very well chilled on a hot summer day, but there are better wines for that purpose.
2009 Mezzacorona Vigneti delle Dolomiti Pinot Grigio ($6.99 at Trader Joe's)
This was one of the better wines of the bunch. Again, a pale gold. Slightly toasted scent. More fruit than most of the other wines. Citrus flavors. Lemony, but still not very much on the nose or on the palate. Perfectly drinkable and probably my favorite of the group, but probably not sufficiently interesting to make me want to go back for more--although I might.
2009 Contadino Pinot Grigio delle Venezie ($3.99 at Trader Joe's)
Pale gold. Again suggestive of apricots and roasted grain. Distant suggestion of hazelnuts perhaps? Flat compared with some of the other wines (less acidity). A tad sweeter than the first two wines, but less sweetness than the second pair (above), but all seven of the wines were quite dry, with the Vivace wine and perhaps the Villa Sonia wine most noticeably with a little residual sugar. Ultimately, just plain, uninspiring wine. Little scent, little flavor.
Palest in color of the seven wines. Distant lemon scents. very closed. Almost no scent at all. Seemed more alcoholic than most of the others (but that was an illusion: they were all 12% or 12.5% alcohol). Seemed the driest of the bunch as well. Mineral hints on the palate. Good, peppy acidity. This was one of the better wines, I thought, but still thin and rather bland.
2009 Villa Sonia Pinot Grigio Piave ($5.99 at Trader Joe's)
In conclusion, I wouldn't write off Pinot Grigio entirely, as it's sometimes tempting to do. Collio in Italy makes some of the best--notably the wines of Livio Felluga (I noticed recently that the new Santa Rosa Whole Foods has the Livio Felluga Collio Pinot Grigio). There are good examples coming out of Oregon and Washington State. Having said that, none of the wines reviewed here is much of a recommendation for the grape. Not only was the Santa Margherita wine little better than the others, none of the wines was especially interesting. The best I've had recently is probably the 2008 Villa Teresa Pinot Grigio they've been pouring at Café Della Stelle, in San Francisco. Pinot Grigio can, in fact, be excellent.
For more wine reviews, use the Wines I'm Drinking label above.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wines I'm Drinking: 2008 Dancing Coyote Albariño
I recently tasted the 2008 Dancing Coyote Albariño, made from grapes grown in Clarksburg, in Yolo County, California, just south of Sacramento. When I think of Albariño, I think of Galicia, in Spain, and northern Portugal, where this grape makes fresh, light, crisp, but not insubstantial wines of sometimes exotic perfume. I was skeptical, but the Dancing Coyote wine was a pleasant surprise. I'd have to call it quite successful as an expression of Albariño.
The wine was a pale straw color with the faintest hint of green. The nose was characterized mostly by a fresh, light, clean, sappy scent with a suggestion of passion fruit in it. Later there was something peachy, vaguely reminiscent of a Viognier wine. Still later, I was getting brown sugar along with hints of yogurt and cucumbers. On the palate, the wine was clean, crisp, and light with some tropical fruit flavors. While the wine is quite dry and I would pair it with seafood or other foods that go well with crisp, dry white wines, it began to seem somewhat heavy as the evening went on (perhaps needing a little more acidity?). Having said that, this was tasty wine very much in the mold of the European wines that are its roots. I'm very pleased to learn that someone is making good Albariño in California. I think Clarksburg may deserve a visit one of these days. Reasonably priced at $7.95 at Andy's Market, in Sebastopol. Recommended for everyday drinking.
One thing seems odd, though: The label is quite plain considering the evocative name of the winery. Maybe a label re-design is in order? I do that sort of thing....
For more wine reviews, use the Wines I'm Drinking label.
[Update: I did some Internet image searching. I see the brand has used a much more interesting label in the past (and on the 2009). I don't quite understand this label, I'm afraid. Hmmmm..... But it's the wine that counts.]
The wine was a pale straw color with the faintest hint of green. The nose was characterized mostly by a fresh, light, clean, sappy scent with a suggestion of passion fruit in it. Later there was something peachy, vaguely reminiscent of a Viognier wine. Still later, I was getting brown sugar along with hints of yogurt and cucumbers. On the palate, the wine was clean, crisp, and light with some tropical fruit flavors. While the wine is quite dry and I would pair it with seafood or other foods that go well with crisp, dry white wines, it began to seem somewhat heavy as the evening went on (perhaps needing a little more acidity?). Having said that, this was tasty wine very much in the mold of the European wines that are its roots. I'm very pleased to learn that someone is making good Albariño in California. I think Clarksburg may deserve a visit one of these days. Reasonably priced at $7.95 at Andy's Market, in Sebastopol. Recommended for everyday drinking.
One thing seems odd, though: The label is quite plain considering the evocative name of the winery. Maybe a label re-design is in order? I do that sort of thing....
For more wine reviews, use the Wines I'm Drinking label.
[Update: I did some Internet image searching. I see the brand has used a much more interesting label in the past (and on the 2009). I don't quite understand this label, I'm afraid. Hmmmm..... But it's the wine that counts.]
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Miscellaneous: You Can't Keep Creative People Down
Four men and a theft. According to an interesting little article in the New York Times today (October 26, 2010), these band members had their instruments stolen not long before they performed on a New York subway using their iPhones as virtual instruments. I hope it's a true story. If it is, it's a testament to the indomitable human urge to create. To tell the truth, I'm a bit skeptical. It all looks planned to me, but planned serendipity can still be fun. Very interesting that you can play like this on an iPhone.
Birds I'm Watching: Sierra Arroyo Dr./Strawberry School Park, Santa Rosa (October 26, 2010)
I've done so much bird watching recently--in the past two years. I'm not sure why all of a sudden. Partly it's been because work has been slow; I've had more free time than usual. But that's not the only reason. My parents were occasional bird watchers, and they always pointed out anything interesting that might be flying around when we were traveling or when we visited the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens or Central Park (I lived in Brooklyn until I was seven). Once in a while we made trips specifically to see birds--to places like Greenwich, Connecticut and Jamaica Bay. So, I grew up with a sense that birds were something worth looking at, and these things stick with you.
Not all the associations are pleasant. My father was (and remains) a short-tempered man that was incapable of making concessions to the attention span of a child. The trips at times were excruciating, to tell the truth. My brother and I were always being yelled at for scaring the birds away. We were expected to walk quietly and attentively in a way that we weren't capable of at that age. It was at times frightening to be with my father when he was focused on seeing something and we were in the way. Still, I enjoyed seeing unusual birds even at that age--when everything went right, when we found something worth seeing that my brother and I had managed to keep from scaring away, when my father was in an agreeable mood.
Still, I didn't take much of an interest until years later, in Ohio, during my summers at Glen Helen, in Yellow Springs. Even then, though, I would have been a casual bird watcher at best. But things rub off on a child.
Partly it was the names. I loved the sound of names like "Purple Gallinule" and "Greater Yellowlegs" and "Scarlet Tanager" and "Ruby-crowned Kinglet." What was a tanager? I had no idea, but I loved seeing its flaming red form flitting in the trees in Greenwich--one of the very early sightings I clearly remember. I would have been about six. And then there were the Rand McNally flash cards we played with. I can still see the the red, blue, and yellow box they came in. My parents believed in educational toys, and they were fun--so many fewer things to be distracted by in those days. The names of the birds I could enjoy without having to worry about scaring anything away.
We had a box of bird flash cards and a box of animal cards. Each of the bird cards had a picture on the front with the name of the bird on the back. Again, the names seemed magical. They were mostly exotic birds on the cards that didn't show up in New York City. There was the Roller, a mostly blue European bird (I was thrilled to finally see real Rollers during my two months in France this summer); the Hornbill, with its absurdly big bill; and the Cuckoo, among many others. These birds and birds like the Scarlet Tanager are imprinted in my brain in a peculiarly distinct way. The names even today send me tumbling back in time in a wave of associations that can be momentarily disorienting.
The birds from Glen Helen form another group with strong associations--the Eastern Wood Pewee in particular, for reasons that are obscure to me--again, I think I just liked the name. These were birds pointed out on hikes through the woods with camp friends. I don't know how much I was paying attention, but it was around that time that I began to get a sense of the great diversity of birds, and that's probably what I find most interesting today. It's freshly astonishing to me every time I go out to be able to see 40 or sometimes 50 or 60 distinct species in a single day of walking in the woods or at the ocean's edge, little more than half an hour from home.
And so I have begun to look for birds in the past couple of years, as if remembering a forgotten habit, as if I've been doing it regularly in all the intervening years. This morning I took a walk from Hoen Ave. to Summerfield Rd., along Sierra Creek, the creek that runs alongside Strawberry School Park. It was comparatively quiet, but I saw 26 species in the course of about an hour. Many Western bluebirds were around, attracted by ripe berries (they looked like hawthorne berries to me) and there were quite a few yellow-rumped warblers as well (photo).
Not all the associations are pleasant. My father was (and remains) a short-tempered man that was incapable of making concessions to the attention span of a child. The trips at times were excruciating, to tell the truth. My brother and I were always being yelled at for scaring the birds away. We were expected to walk quietly and attentively in a way that we weren't capable of at that age. It was at times frightening to be with my father when he was focused on seeing something and we were in the way. Still, I enjoyed seeing unusual birds even at that age--when everything went right, when we found something worth seeing that my brother and I had managed to keep from scaring away, when my father was in an agreeable mood.
Still, I didn't take much of an interest until years later, in Ohio, during my summers at Glen Helen, in Yellow Springs. Even then, though, I would have been a casual bird watcher at best. But things rub off on a child.
Partly it was the names. I loved the sound of names like "Purple Gallinule" and "Greater Yellowlegs" and "Scarlet Tanager" and "Ruby-crowned Kinglet." What was a tanager? I had no idea, but I loved seeing its flaming red form flitting in the trees in Greenwich--one of the very early sightings I clearly remember. I would have been about six. And then there were the Rand McNally flash cards we played with. I can still see the the red, blue, and yellow box they came in. My parents believed in educational toys, and they were fun--so many fewer things to be distracted by in those days. The names of the birds I could enjoy without having to worry about scaring anything away.
We had a box of bird flash cards and a box of animal cards. Each of the bird cards had a picture on the front with the name of the bird on the back. Again, the names seemed magical. They were mostly exotic birds on the cards that didn't show up in New York City. There was the Roller, a mostly blue European bird (I was thrilled to finally see real Rollers during my two months in France this summer); the Hornbill, with its absurdly big bill; and the Cuckoo, among many others. These birds and birds like the Scarlet Tanager are imprinted in my brain in a peculiarly distinct way. The names even today send me tumbling back in time in a wave of associations that can be momentarily disorienting.
The birds from Glen Helen form another group with strong associations--the Eastern Wood Pewee in particular, for reasons that are obscure to me--again, I think I just liked the name. These were birds pointed out on hikes through the woods with camp friends. I don't know how much I was paying attention, but it was around that time that I began to get a sense of the great diversity of birds, and that's probably what I find most interesting today. It's freshly astonishing to me every time I go out to be able to see 40 or sometimes 50 or 60 distinct species in a single day of walking in the woods or at the ocean's edge, little more than half an hour from home.
Birds I saw today were: Yellow-rumped warbler, Mourning dove, Crow, Western bluebird, California towhee, Black phoebe, Song sparrow, White-throated sparrow (first of the season), Golden-crowned sparrow, Nuttall's woodpecker, Scrub-jay, Northern mockingbird, Chestnut-backed chickadee, Northern flicker, Anna's hummingbird, Ruby-crowned kinglet, Canada goose (about 60 in a beautiful V-formation), Bewick's wren, Bushtit, White-breasted nuthatch, Dark-eyed junco, Robin, Acorn woodpecker, Starling, Spotted towhee, Turkey vulture, and Oak titmouse.
For more information about bird watching in Sonoma County, see my Website Sonoma County Birding Spots
For more information about bird watching in Sonoma County, see my Website Sonoma County Birding Spots
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wines I'm Making: Cabernet Malolactic Fermentation Initiated (2010)
Yesterday (October 24) I introduced an Enopherm Alpha malolactic bacteria culture into the Cabernet Sauvignon. It's often hard to tell whether malolactic fermentation has started or not, but it should be under way. About two weeks of very tiny bubbles at the edge of the wines is usually all you can see. Right now there is a fair amount of foam at the top of the carboys, but I suspect that's the end of the primary fermentation--yeast using up the last traces of sugar--rather than evidence of the malolactic fermentation under way. Molalactic fermentation will convert some of the malic acid in the wine to the softer lactic acid, which is a pretty routine step in making red wines. Once that's done, it will be time to rack the new wine into clean containers to leave behind most of the yeast and other residues still settling into the bottom of the containers. So far, everything continues to look good. The Sangiovese rosé continues its primary fermentation in the garage.
As usual, after finishing the real wine I didn't want to throw out the pressed skins and seeds. It seems such a waste. I decided to make a second-run wine again this year. I tried it last year with poor results, but I made an incorrect acid addition and made the wine artificially sharp, so it doesn't really seem like it was a fair trial. So, I added water back into the spent pressings and enough sugar to bring the soup to 20 Brix again and it has started fermenting spontaneously. Plenty enough yeast is left behind to initiate a new fermentation. This, too, will probably be undrinkable, but, you never know. It looks like wine (below).
As usual, after finishing the real wine I didn't want to throw out the pressed skins and seeds. It seems such a waste. I decided to make a second-run wine again this year. I tried it last year with poor results, but I made an incorrect acid addition and made the wine artificially sharp, so it doesn't really seem like it was a fair trial. So, I added water back into the spent pressings and enough sugar to bring the soup to 20 Brix again and it has started fermenting spontaneously. Plenty enough yeast is left behind to initiate a new fermentation. This, too, will probably be undrinkable, but, you never know. It looks like wine (below).
Miscellaneous: Rain (October 23-30, 2010)
We had the first storm of the 2010-2011 season over the past weekend. At this location, we got 4.85 inches of precipitation--which is much more than normal at this time of year. It's good for the plants and the water table. The new rain brings the total for this year so far to 5.2 inches. According to the website I look at to keep track of these things, 1.74 inches is normal on October 24, so, we're off to a good start. Another wet winter ahead?
[Update: Rained again on the 29th and the 30th, adding 0.7 inches. That makes a 2010-2011 season total of 5.9 inches.]
[Update: Rained again on the 29th and the 30th, adding 0.7 inches. That makes a 2010-2011 season total of 5.9 inches.]
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Wines I'm Making: 2010 Cabernet Pressed
Despite the rain today (October 23), I pressed the 2010 Cabernet Sauvignon/Cabernet Franc, ending up with eight gallons of new wine, which will make 40 bottles of wine. The wine is in two carboys, one holding five gallons, one holding three. Although I vinified the two batches identically, one seemed to have an especially spicy, strong Cabernet scent to it, so I kept that mostly separate in the smaller carboy. We'll see if the difference persists as the wines mature. Tomorrow I'll inoculate both batches with malolactic bacteria and keep the wines warm with electric blankets until the malolactic fermentation is done, which usually takes two to three weeks. After that, it'll mostly be a waiting game. I have high hopes for these wines, but it'll be a year before they are ready to drink. In the meantime, I'll bottle the 2009 wines.
Music I'm Listening to: Joshua Bell, The San Francisco Symphony
Excellent concert last night, hearing the San Francisco Symphony with guest conductor John Conlon (regularly with the Los Angeles Opera) and guest soloist Joshua Bell. The concert opened with the Prelude to Act I of Wagner's Die Meistersinger, followed by Bell playing the Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1. On the second half of the program were three Dvorak overtures, or, as conductor Conlon pointed out, tone poems--In der Natur, Carnival, and Othello. This was the second of four concerts. Bell, Conlon, and the Symphony perform again tonight (Saturday, October 23), Sunday, and Monday.
I do wish I could like Wagner. Not liking Wagner has become a cliché. I don't dislike Wagner because it's the thing to do. I'm afraid I just don't understand his appeal. Clearly, there are very smart people that know music and like Wagner, and I try to keep an open mind, but he seems to start always at full throttle, leaving himself nowhere to go. If you start with the kettle at full boil, no amount of additional heat will make it do anything more than boil, until it boils away. Competently played, but not my thing. I guess it was a good warm-up exercise for the orchestra.
I attended the pre-concert talk the symphony sometimes gives, having arrived earlier than usual. I was surprised by the way the speaker kept talking about Bruch as a one-hit wonder, suggesting that the Violin Concerto No. 1 was the only significant piece of music he ever wrote, and wondering aloud why he never wrote anything as good. While it may be his best known and most popular piece, that's giving the Scottish Fantasy rather short shrift. I'd be hard pressed to say which I like better. Kol Nidrei is a staple of the cello repertoire, and his three symphonies aren't too shabby either, in my view.
It was fun to see Bell from the fourth row. I've heard him perform on the radio and in recordings but never seen him live before. He reminded me of Kyung-wha Chung. Both are rather physical. Chung shrinks to two-thirds her normal stature when bowing long, low notes and then stretches up on tiptoes while going furiously through passages of high notes. Bell has a very similar habit. My favorite recording of the Bruch concerto is, in fact, the one Chung made with Rudolphe Kempe and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in the late 1970s (the original LP, London CS 6795, includes a wonderful version of the Scottish Fantasy as well--my copy is autographed). I try not to get too attached to any particular performance, but it happens. I'm happy to say that Bell's rendition was not a disappointment--lush, but disciplined and technically brilliant. Bell let the inherent romantic sweep of the music work its magic without milking it for more than it has to give. The performance was a great pleasure. I thought it virtually flawlessly executed.
The sound of Bell's violin was phenomenal. According to the program, he plays the 1713 Stradivarious known as The Gibson, formerly owned and played by Bronislaw Huberman. Bell's website has an interesting piece about the violin's history on the Biography page. The violin was stolen twice from Huberman, the second time in 1936, disappearing for nearly 50 years, only resurfacing in 1985. Bell purchased it in 2001. It's one of the most beautiful violins I've ever heard in person.
After an extended standing ovation, Mr. Bell returned to the stage with his violin to play an encore. It wasn't apparent at first that he was playing a set of variations on Yankee Doodle Dandy, but as soon as the audience recognized the tune, there was a ripple of laughter. Bell was playing Henri Vieuxtemps's Souvenir d'Amérique--Variations Burlesques sur Yankee Doodle. The crowd loved it.
After the concert, Bell very graciously signed autographs for a line of at least 100 people. The only other performer I've seen so patiently sign autographs is, again, Kyung-wha Chung. Hmmm.... While signing CD covers Bell remarked that he had embellished the Vieuxtemps variations a bit. It appears to be his signature encore piece. I see there are numerous videos of him doing it on YouTube.
After intermission, Conlon addressed the audience to talk briefly about the Dvorak tone poems. He pointed out that a common theme runs through them and had the orchestra play the theme as it appears in each of the three short pieces--light-hearted in In der Natur, darker in Othello. I wish conductors and performers would talk to the audience more often. It makes things more interesting when the music is unfamiliar. It makes things more personal if the performers acknowledge the audience directly. Conlon asked the audience not to clap between the three pieces, as he wanted to present them as a unified whole.
Carnival is very familiar, but the other two pieces appear to be rarely performed. I wonder why? I hadn't heard either one before, but they seemed typically Dvorak to me--with the composer's hallmark optimism (something about his orchestration, I think). I liked them both, but particularly the Othello. It was fun to watch the various themes move through different sections of the orchestra. I thought the ensemble unusually responsive to the conducting--particularly to the dynamics Conlon indicated. Sometimes musicians appear oblivious to the conductor and you wonder what he's up there for. Last night, the San Francisco Symphony was highly attentive, the performers seeming to adjust themselves at the slightest hint.
A quick snack afterwards at Absinthe was a nice way to end the evening. Absinthe has some excellent (if overpriced) wines by the glass. I had a glass of the 2009 Daulny Sancerre (perfect with oysters) and later a glass of the 2008 Bernard Baudry "Les Granges" Chinon, a yummy Cabernet Franc.
Photo of John Conlon, courtesy of The Ravinia Festival. Photo of Joshua Bell by Timothy White, courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony.
I do wish I could like Wagner. Not liking Wagner has become a cliché. I don't dislike Wagner because it's the thing to do. I'm afraid I just don't understand his appeal. Clearly, there are very smart people that know music and like Wagner, and I try to keep an open mind, but he seems to start always at full throttle, leaving himself nowhere to go. If you start with the kettle at full boil, no amount of additional heat will make it do anything more than boil, until it boils away. Competently played, but not my thing. I guess it was a good warm-up exercise for the orchestra.
I attended the pre-concert talk the symphony sometimes gives, having arrived earlier than usual. I was surprised by the way the speaker kept talking about Bruch as a one-hit wonder, suggesting that the Violin Concerto No. 1 was the only significant piece of music he ever wrote, and wondering aloud why he never wrote anything as good. While it may be his best known and most popular piece, that's giving the Scottish Fantasy rather short shrift. I'd be hard pressed to say which I like better. Kol Nidrei is a staple of the cello repertoire, and his three symphonies aren't too shabby either, in my view.
It was fun to see Bell from the fourth row. I've heard him perform on the radio and in recordings but never seen him live before. He reminded me of Kyung-wha Chung. Both are rather physical. Chung shrinks to two-thirds her normal stature when bowing long, low notes and then stretches up on tiptoes while going furiously through passages of high notes. Bell has a very similar habit. My favorite recording of the Bruch concerto is, in fact, the one Chung made with Rudolphe Kempe and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in the late 1970s (the original LP, London CS 6795, includes a wonderful version of the Scottish Fantasy as well--my copy is autographed). I try not to get too attached to any particular performance, but it happens. I'm happy to say that Bell's rendition was not a disappointment--lush, but disciplined and technically brilliant. Bell let the inherent romantic sweep of the music work its magic without milking it for more than it has to give. The performance was a great pleasure. I thought it virtually flawlessly executed.
The sound of Bell's violin was phenomenal. According to the program, he plays the 1713 Stradivarious known as The Gibson, formerly owned and played by Bronislaw Huberman. Bell's website has an interesting piece about the violin's history on the Biography page. The violin was stolen twice from Huberman, the second time in 1936, disappearing for nearly 50 years, only resurfacing in 1985. Bell purchased it in 2001. It's one of the most beautiful violins I've ever heard in person.
After an extended standing ovation, Mr. Bell returned to the stage with his violin to play an encore. It wasn't apparent at first that he was playing a set of variations on Yankee Doodle Dandy, but as soon as the audience recognized the tune, there was a ripple of laughter. Bell was playing Henri Vieuxtemps's Souvenir d'Amérique--Variations Burlesques sur Yankee Doodle. The crowd loved it.
After the concert, Bell very graciously signed autographs for a line of at least 100 people. The only other performer I've seen so patiently sign autographs is, again, Kyung-wha Chung. Hmmm.... While signing CD covers Bell remarked that he had embellished the Vieuxtemps variations a bit. It appears to be his signature encore piece. I see there are numerous videos of him doing it on YouTube.
After intermission, Conlon addressed the audience to talk briefly about the Dvorak tone poems. He pointed out that a common theme runs through them and had the orchestra play the theme as it appears in each of the three short pieces--light-hearted in In der Natur, darker in Othello. I wish conductors and performers would talk to the audience more often. It makes things more interesting when the music is unfamiliar. It makes things more personal if the performers acknowledge the audience directly. Conlon asked the audience not to clap between the three pieces, as he wanted to present them as a unified whole.
A quick snack afterwards at Absinthe was a nice way to end the evening. Absinthe has some excellent (if overpriced) wines by the glass. I had a glass of the 2009 Daulny Sancerre (perfect with oysters) and later a glass of the 2008 Bernard Baudry "Les Granges" Chinon, a yummy Cabernet Franc.
Photo of John Conlon, courtesy of The Ravinia Festival. Photo of Joshua Bell by Timothy White, courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wines I'm Making: 2010 Cabernet, Sangiovese Rosé (October 21)
The 2010 wines are coming along nicely. As of today, the Cabernet Sauvignon has been fermenting for six days (the grapes were picked on the 12th), following a three-day pre-soak--so nine days on the skins so far (above). The fermentation is slowing now. The must--by now it's properly called wine, I suppose--is no longer very sweet and the alcohol is apparent. I'll test it tomorrow. If the specific gravity is low enough, I'll probably press. The wine is a deep purple-black. It continues to smell wonderful. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to steal a real taste during pressing--far too early, of course, to know what the wine will finally taste like, but its general quality should be apparent.
The Sangiovese has been fermenting for four days now. If it goes at the pace of last year, it'll bubble slowly for another week or so (second photo). I'm hoping this year's rosé will be as good as last year's.
I never know what to do with the pressed skins. it seems such a waste to throw them out. Clearly a lot of pulp and juice remains. I thought I'd try to make another second-pressing wine. I soaked the leftover Sangiovese skins for two days in a small volume of water, pressed the "juice" that resulted (surprisingly, it measured 11 Brix, having been at 6 Brix initially) and then added sugar and yeast to see if a second pressing works better with rosé than with red wine (last year's Cabernet experiment was not very encouraging--but it's all interesting). Because of the soak, the second pressing (bottom photo) is much more deeply colored than the real rosé. We'll see what it tastes like. All three containers are fermenting in the garage while the cabernet sits in primary fermenters near the front door. It's supposed to rain tomorrow. I may have to press the Cabernet in the garage--a true garage wine.
The Sangiovese has been fermenting for four days now. If it goes at the pace of last year, it'll bubble slowly for another week or so (second photo). I'm hoping this year's rosé will be as good as last year's.
I never know what to do with the pressed skins. it seems such a waste to throw them out. Clearly a lot of pulp and juice remains. I thought I'd try to make another second-pressing wine. I soaked the leftover Sangiovese skins for two days in a small volume of water, pressed the "juice" that resulted (surprisingly, it measured 11 Brix, having been at 6 Brix initially) and then added sugar and yeast to see if a second pressing works better with rosé than with red wine (last year's Cabernet experiment was not very encouraging--but it's all interesting). Because of the soak, the second pressing (bottom photo) is much more deeply colored than the real rosé. We'll see what it tastes like. All three containers are fermenting in the garage while the cabernet sits in primary fermenters near the front door. It's supposed to rain tomorrow. I may have to press the Cabernet in the garage--a true garage wine.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Books I'm Reading: The Discovery of France
I've just finished reading The Discovery of France: A Historical Geography, by Graham Robb (paperback edition, Norton, 2007). Having put the book down, my strongest impulse was to pick it up and start reading all over again. The Discovery of France is packed with surprising and enlightening information--too much to take in all at once.
If you think you know France, this is likely to be a revelation--on many levels. As Robb notes in his short introductory essay headed "Itinerary," the book grew out of his observations of France from the perspective of a bicycle seat: "This book is the result of fourteen thousand miles in the saddle and four years in the library" he says.
There is the knowledge of a foreign country one can gain from superficial contact and the knowledge gained by living intimately among a country's people and speaking their language. Despite Robb's deep knowledge of the land we call France today (his "superficial" knowledge of the country was already far deeper than most non-French people could ever hope to gain; Robb has written books about Victor Hugo, Balzac, and Rimbaud, among other topics), traveling the country at the pace of a bicycle revealed to him a different France from the one he thought he knew. In deliciously readable prose, Robb passes on his insights in vivid detail, giving us a view into what seems another world--France before it came to be what we think of as France. Suddenly the country seems a less civilized, less homogenous, far more colorful place.
I lived in Japan for nearly twenty years, my first year as the only Caucasian in a small town in Shikoku, the smallest of Japan's four main islands. In that year I went from being a 17-year-old monolingual high school student to being a moderately fluent speaker of Japanese, a huge advantage in getting to know a place. Even from so brief a stay as my year as an exchange student, it became clear that living somewhere and speaking its language was a very different thing from traveling there (I had traveled in Canada, the Caribbean, in Germany, Holland, Belgium, and Denmark). At the end of my year, I thought I knew a thing or two about Japan. Yet, when a few years later I moved more or less permanently to Japan, I lived in the Tokyo area. It was startling to apprehend quite suddenly that the Japan I knew was just a snapshot of one very small part of rural Japan. Tokyo was another Japan altogether. The contrast between those two views of Japan was disorienting but revelatory. Robb's writing evokes very much the same sense of knowing and not knowing that I remember from my early years in Japan. Sometimes it happens that we know the people in our lives in this same way, seeming to know them intimately, yet knowing nothing about them at the same time.
Reading The Discovery of France has left me feeling ignorant, humble, and yearning for more. While I would never have called myself intimately acquainted with France, I have traveled there on five or six occasions and I spent two and a half months living in the south of the country this past summer; I have more than a passing acquaintance with the place. Still, virtually every page of this book seemed heavy with unfamiliar treasure. The Discovery of France is nothing less than a survey of how France's idea of France has changed from before France was even a meaningful concept. I particularly enjoyed the sections on travel and how modes of travel (especially the speed of various forms of travel) altered perceptions. I was reminded of similar discussions of how the arrival of the train in the United States affected world views there in Rebecca Solnit's excellent book River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West (paperback edition, Penguin, 2003). The Discovery of France was thoroughly enjoyable. Highly recommended.
If you think you know France, this is likely to be a revelation--on many levels. As Robb notes in his short introductory essay headed "Itinerary," the book grew out of his observations of France from the perspective of a bicycle seat: "This book is the result of fourteen thousand miles in the saddle and four years in the library" he says.
There is the knowledge of a foreign country one can gain from superficial contact and the knowledge gained by living intimately among a country's people and speaking their language. Despite Robb's deep knowledge of the land we call France today (his "superficial" knowledge of the country was already far deeper than most non-French people could ever hope to gain; Robb has written books about Victor Hugo, Balzac, and Rimbaud, among other topics), traveling the country at the pace of a bicycle revealed to him a different France from the one he thought he knew. In deliciously readable prose, Robb passes on his insights in vivid detail, giving us a view into what seems another world--France before it came to be what we think of as France. Suddenly the country seems a less civilized, less homogenous, far more colorful place.
I lived in Japan for nearly twenty years, my first year as the only Caucasian in a small town in Shikoku, the smallest of Japan's four main islands. In that year I went from being a 17-year-old monolingual high school student to being a moderately fluent speaker of Japanese, a huge advantage in getting to know a place. Even from so brief a stay as my year as an exchange student, it became clear that living somewhere and speaking its language was a very different thing from traveling there (I had traveled in Canada, the Caribbean, in Germany, Holland, Belgium, and Denmark). At the end of my year, I thought I knew a thing or two about Japan. Yet, when a few years later I moved more or less permanently to Japan, I lived in the Tokyo area. It was startling to apprehend quite suddenly that the Japan I knew was just a snapshot of one very small part of rural Japan. Tokyo was another Japan altogether. The contrast between those two views of Japan was disorienting but revelatory. Robb's writing evokes very much the same sense of knowing and not knowing that I remember from my early years in Japan. Sometimes it happens that we know the people in our lives in this same way, seeming to know them intimately, yet knowing nothing about them at the same time.
Reading The Discovery of France has left me feeling ignorant, humble, and yearning for more. While I would never have called myself intimately acquainted with France, I have traveled there on five or six occasions and I spent two and a half months living in the south of the country this past summer; I have more than a passing acquaintance with the place. Still, virtually every page of this book seemed heavy with unfamiliar treasure. The Discovery of France is nothing less than a survey of how France's idea of France has changed from before France was even a meaningful concept. I particularly enjoyed the sections on travel and how modes of travel (especially the speed of various forms of travel) altered perceptions. I was reminded of similar discussions of how the arrival of the train in the United States affected world views there in Rebecca Solnit's excellent book River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West (paperback edition, Penguin, 2003). The Discovery of France was thoroughly enjoyable. Highly recommended.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Rain: Second Rain of the 2010-2011 Season (October 17, 2010)
Second rain of the season today. This morning we got 0.20 inches. Not much, but the plants seem to have appreciated the gesture. That brings the season total to 0.35 inches, at my house anyway. It's a start.
Wines I'm Making: 2010 Sangiovese Pressed
I got up early this morning to get work done (translation work, that is) before pressing the Sangiovese to start the rosé fermentation. At about 10:00AM, I finally got to the wine, so the juice was on the skins for about 18 hours--about what I had planned. I pressed the grapes fairly aggressively, though, so the wine is likely to be comparatively deeply colored.
I added a dose of Epernay yeast to must in two carboys, one holding five gallons, one holding three. I'd say there is about seven gallons of must now starting to ferment. I plan to keep the must as cool as possible to make sure the fermentation proceeds slowly, as that seemed the key last year to making the rosé so good. I hope it is as good or better this year, but the grapes were not as ripe, so it's unlikely. The weather was a real problem. I hope the wine is at least pleasant to drink. In the photo to the left, I've just added the dry yeast culture. You can see it floating on the surface of the newly pressed juice.
I added a dose of Epernay yeast to must in two carboys, one holding five gallons, one holding three. I'd say there is about seven gallons of must now starting to ferment. I plan to keep the must as cool as possible to make sure the fermentation proceeds slowly, as that seemed the key last year to making the rosé so good. I hope it is as good or better this year, but the grapes were not as ripe, so it's unlikely. The weather was a real problem. I hope the wine is at least pleasant to drink. In the photo to the left, I've just added the dry yeast culture. You can see it floating on the surface of the newly pressed juice.
Plants I'm Growing--Figs (2010)
A couple of days ago, I posted a photo of the apple tree in the garden. It's blooming in the middle of October, which is somewhat bizarre. The strange weather this year--the wet spring and long, cold, summer followed by a couple of heat spells (we've just finished another one)--all conspired against the fruit trees. We had no pears, very few "Dapple Dandy" pluots, no apples, and very few peaches or nectarines this year. Only the "Flavor King" pluot had an appreciable crop. I had given up on the fig tree as well until the late warm weather that saved the grapes finally got the fruit to start ripening. We have a dwarf variety called "Black Jack." The figs taste and look much like "Mission" figs, but the tree stays small. With minimal pruning, it's remained low enough that I can reach the fruit without a ladder. Suddenly, we've got many, many figs ripening all at once.
I enjoy them best just sliced in half with Trader Joe's Greek Style Honey Yogurt on top--and then drizzled with honey harvested from the beehive. Standing near the tree, you can smell the fruit. That corner of the garden smells like Sardinia.
I enjoy them best just sliced in half with Trader Joe's Greek Style Honey Yogurt on top--and then drizzled with honey harvested from the beehive. Standing near the tree, you can smell the fruit. That corner of the garden smells like Sardinia.
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