Where wine is king
The A.V. Club, Madison print edition, Nov. 2 2006
How often do most people get to sample a formidable gauntlet of wines and eat lobster mashed potatoes out of a plastic cup (with a plastic fork that looks like fine silverware) while watching a mild-mannered chef competition from the metal bleachers inside the incongruously drafty Alliant Energy Center’s exhibition hall? The A.V. Club, for one, pounced on the chance to do just that on Friday, Oct. 20, when The Madison Food And Wine Show opened.
The show is like sample day at the supermarket, only bigger, fancier, and with booze—and all the excess and disorientation that implies. Food might be billed first, but wine is king. And even the people who aren’t selling wine here have a shrewd eye toward matching their products with wine. Not sure if you should pair that piece of havarti on a toothpick with that Dixie cup of cab-sav? Check your handy-dandy wine-and-cheese-pairing wheel, courtesy of the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board.
Food and beverage divination devices aren’t the only swag up for grabs at the show. When visitors first enter the hall, they pick up a commemorative Food And Wine Show wine glass, and sample wine after wine from it throughout the evening. Some people use it for the beer tastings too. (Capital Brewery and Redhook Ale Brewery are here with their fine brews, though the wine options far outnumber the beer options.)
At most of the wine booths, the idea is to keep the line moving and enjoy the stuff without getting too fussy about it. But for wine showoffs, there’s a smelling contest. Entrants sniff at little scented Q-Tips inside wine glasses and match what they smell to a list of flavors for a chance to win a set of glasses. Among the aromas is “cut hay.” Remarking that this is weird, The A.V. Club gets hit with a “gotcha!”—many wines have that aroma. Are the wine world’s many affluent, urban newbies also studying up on farm smells?
If anything, American wineries seem to keep such things at a pleasant distance in the minds of wine drinkers, with names that are often reminiscent of suburban streets—vague, pleasant, perhaps with a dignified nod to nature or history. White Winter Winery, Von Stiehl Winery, Cedar Creek Winery—replace “Winery” with “Lane,” “Circle,” or “Court” and you’ve got yourself a respectable subdivision. There are always exceptions, though, like Modesto, California’s Barefoot Wine. One of the men at Barefoot’s booth tells The A.V. Club that his decidedly unpretentious presentation (which includes fake palm trees) is aimed at just about any wine consumer, but the booth projects a very Jimmy-Buffet-goes-to-Mardi-Gras vibe. Especially when a woman puts on one of the booth’s free plastic beaded necklaces (complete with a Barefoot-logo medallion).
Forsaking the show’s reigning elegance entirely, though, is Oregon’s Bee Barf Honey. “That’s what it is!” one of the women at the Bee Barf booth says matter-of-factly. (“Bee Vomit” was an early candidate, but didn’t have the same alliterative snap.) The A.V. Club asks her if she feels out of place among so many dignified-sounding companies. She admits the atmosphere can get a bit “snooty,” and adds: “But you know what? We drink the wine. We’re not above it.”
The A.V. Club, Madison print edition, Nov. 2 2006
How often do most people get to sample a formidable gauntlet of wines and eat lobster mashed potatoes out of a plastic cup (with a plastic fork that looks like fine silverware) while watching a mild-mannered chef competition from the metal bleachers inside the incongruously drafty Alliant Energy Center’s exhibition hall? The A.V. Club, for one, pounced on the chance to do just that on Friday, Oct. 20, when The Madison Food And Wine Show opened.
The show is like sample day at the supermarket, only bigger, fancier, and with booze—and all the excess and disorientation that implies. Food might be billed first, but wine is king. And even the people who aren’t selling wine here have a shrewd eye toward matching their products with wine. Not sure if you should pair that piece of havarti on a toothpick with that Dixie cup of cab-sav? Check your handy-dandy wine-and-cheese-pairing wheel, courtesy of the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board.
Food and beverage divination devices aren’t the only swag up for grabs at the show. When visitors first enter the hall, they pick up a commemorative Food And Wine Show wine glass, and sample wine after wine from it throughout the evening. Some people use it for the beer tastings too. (Capital Brewery and Redhook Ale Brewery are here with their fine brews, though the wine options far outnumber the beer options.)
At most of the wine booths, the idea is to keep the line moving and enjoy the stuff without getting too fussy about it. But for wine showoffs, there’s a smelling contest. Entrants sniff at little scented Q-Tips inside wine glasses and match what they smell to a list of flavors for a chance to win a set of glasses. Among the aromas is “cut hay.” Remarking that this is weird, The A.V. Club gets hit with a “gotcha!”—many wines have that aroma. Are the wine world’s many affluent, urban newbies also studying up on farm smells?
If anything, American wineries seem to keep such things at a pleasant distance in the minds of wine drinkers, with names that are often reminiscent of suburban streets—vague, pleasant, perhaps with a dignified nod to nature or history. White Winter Winery, Von Stiehl Winery, Cedar Creek Winery—replace “Winery” with “Lane,” “Circle,” or “Court” and you’ve got yourself a respectable subdivision. There are always exceptions, though, like Modesto, California’s Barefoot Wine. One of the men at Barefoot’s booth tells The A.V. Club that his decidedly unpretentious presentation (which includes fake palm trees) is aimed at just about any wine consumer, but the booth projects a very Jimmy-Buffet-goes-to-Mardi-Gras vibe. Especially when a woman puts on one of the booth’s free plastic beaded necklaces (complete with a Barefoot-logo medallion).
Forsaking the show’s reigning elegance entirely, though, is Oregon’s Bee Barf Honey. “That’s what it is!” one of the women at the Bee Barf booth says matter-of-factly. (“Bee Vomit” was an early candidate, but didn’t have the same alliterative snap.) The A.V. Club asks her if she feels out of place among so many dignified-sounding companies. She admits the atmosphere can get a bit “snooty,” and adds: “But you know what? We drink the wine. We’re not above it.”
posted by Scott at 8:22 AM
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