Black Chickens and Summer Tomatoes

There are a few things that make me giddy.  The smell of fresh rosemary and lavender.  Babies' knees.  Passionate kissing al fresco.  And the July issue of Gourmet.

You see, it's all about the tomatoes.  Yes, I know tomatoes are causing a lot of angst at the moment, and some may view Gourmet's editorial calendar as unfortunately timed under the circumstances, but me -- well, I'm just giddy.  Because this is when I go to the farmer's market and feast on summer produce, most especially the glorious tomatoes -- juicy, sweet, ripe and tomato-tasting tomatoes.  It's the only time of year when I'll actually eat a fresh tomato, and after all that waiting, well, it's kind of like a national holiday.

The other thing that makes me giddy is planning dinner for a friend.  Hence, the double happiness as I was perusing Gourmet, deciding what to cook.  I settled on a new iteration of something I've been experimenting with for a while:  savory bread puddings.  This was a tomato bread pudding, specifically.  You can find the recipe here, on Epicurious.  (Although I encourage you to buy the magazine and get all swoony over the pictures.)  Please note that I used farmer's market tomatoes, as Roma tomatoes are presently scarce.  Don't let it be said that Wine Giques encourages the spread of salmonella!

Such a rich dish demands a wine with a little sass.  My friend, who was responsible for the libations, chose wisely:  Robert Biale Vineyards 2005 Stagecoach Vineyards - Biale Block Zinfandel.  This Zinfandel is loaded with character, with lush berry flavors, hints of herbs, and a finish like a tiny kick in the pants.  It was amazing on its own, and more than so with the bread pudding.

We're diving in, sublimely happy, when my friend tells me that he used to be a black chicken.  I was understandably a little concerned, until I heard the rest of the story:  The "Black Chicken Society" is Biale Vineyards' wine club.  The Biale family have been denizens of Napa for years, and apparently were carrying on their wine-making activities during Prohibition (not uncommon in that valley, believe me).  Like everyone else in Napa, they owned a farm, and sold chickens -- but their farm sported a secret.  When someone came over and asked for a "black chicken," the customer was admitted to the sanctuary where the wine was kept, and the rest is history.   

Now, I think Prohibition was a very bad idea, but the fact that it gave us something like the Black Chicken Society is pretty amusing.  And if all the wines are as good as the Stagecoach, please sign me right up.  (You can find out how to sign up here, BTW.)

We dined for nearly five hours that evening.  Not gluttonously, but slowly, savoring the evening, the food, the wine and the company.  And now, despite the glories of black chickens and summer tomatoes, I'm a little melancholy, because I'm wondering how many chances we get to slow down life that way:  to sit back, enjoy and thank the universe for food, friends, summer tomatoes and all our forebears who were very, very fond of black chickens.   

Comments

[Denise Clarke]

What a cool blog! I will stop back often.

Denise
http://www.WineFoodPairing.blogspot.com

[My Personal Finance Blog]

really cool blog . Love the way you put things together .