Here I am. Standing at the top of a p-r-e-t-t-y pitched slope. By my calculations, it is, at least, a good 45-degree gradient. It will require some pretty fast turns to get out of the “hairy” zone before the run becomes more tranquila. I stop to take a deep breath of the clean, thin Andean air. Above me, the eternal snow of Aconcagua, the highest peak in South America, gleams in the blinding sunlight. I glance towards the beautiful Laguna del Inca, hundreds of meters below, frozen solid from the winter chill. Below, Portillo’s lodge looks miniature. A tiny splotch of yellow on a white landscape canvas contoured with chiseled granite mountains and an azure sky. There’s only silence, the crunch of snow, and the occasional hollow echo of a truck making its way up the hairpin curves of Route 60 towards the Argentine border, only miles away.

I am contemplating my current predicament and the chain of decisions that led me to this exact place, moment, and experience. After a ten-year hiatus from the canchas, ski runs, here I back. Yesterday after arriving at Portillo, I strapped on my parabolic skis and did a couple touch-and-go runs on the bunny slopes before I found that blessed groove. Ahh yes, that feel of skiing. The shush of the snow, the sensation of cruising, pure unadulterated fun. As I moved to the intermediate runs, I tapped back into that timelessness of the sport–fully living and being present in the moment and completey in Mother Nature.

I had learned to ski as a kid at 12 and quickly fell in love with it. A potent, addictive combination of nature, adrenaline, speed, and exercise, I used to dream about living in Colorado or someday visiting Chile to ski in summer (how weird would that be?!). Oddly, when I finally moved to Santiago in 2001, only an hour from serious mountains, I stopped skiing. I made lots of excuses. Training for a marathon, not wanting to strain my muscles for ashtanga yoga, the gym is a better workout, yadayadayada. Excuses, excuses. It wasn’t those reasons. I knew why.

Fear. That freaking four-letter word.

My previous experience skiing in Chile was a gray day at El Colorado. At some point in the afternoon, crappy weather set in. As visibility worsened, I knew I had to get off the mountain.  As I descended quickly, I was having seriously difficulty seeing through the flying snow and the borders of the groomed run. Suddenly I hit powder. I was moving too fast to stop but I knew I had gone off piste. My heart jumped. I had no idea of this mountain its terrain, nor could I see. I knew it was NOT good though. Short story, I  managed to maneuver my way back to the groomed run and got to the bottom. I sat there shaken. I felt like I had tempted fate beyond my limits. I didn’t want to get hurt or die on a mountain, or even tempt my fate to that extent. There was too much to do and live yet. I sat there paralyzed by fear. All the years of fun, good vibes, and confidence evaporated. Essentially, I caved into the fear instead of looking it straight in the face. I didn’t have the strength—at that time. So I stopped skiing to avoid dealing with it.

This June while at the Food & Wine Classic in Aspen, I reconnected with Colorado and it transported me back to those fun times as kid. On the top of the Ute trail, looking down on the hilly, steep terrain and Aspen below, I decided I was going to conquer this fear of skiing and “rediscover” this sport I had loved so much. How could I let one incident (with no real trauma other than mental) sideswipe me?

Back at Portillo, I am seriously questioning my mental sanity. How the hell am I going to get off this mountain? Why am I doing this? What do I have to prove? This is crazy. CRAZY. My mind shoots off in that direction again. For a minute I wonder if the chairlift can rescue me and take me back down. No, no, no. There’s no way out. I have to find the way. I have to decide to work through this. I must conquer. And then it dawns on me. This is not just about skiing. This is about how I live and confront life. An attitude.  I briefly flash back to all the amazing feats I have done recently. I moved to another country. My husband and I started a (flourishing) business. I wrote a cookbook. We just bought our dream aparment in Santiago. We got married and planned a wedding. To name a few.  I realized I had to move. Action! I couldn’t just stand there being indecisive. Nothing ever comes of that. Just like anything I have set my mind to, and gone after, I have to make the skis do what I want them to do to get the results I desire (getting to the bottom).

Ok, I am going to pick my line and communicate this intent to my skis. They WILL follow my body. I can do this. I can do this. I have been on harder slopes and stickier situations before. I look ahead and keep saying to myself, “I am going there”. I know I can go wide if I need to decrease velocity. I know I can move my body faster to bang out those tight turns.

I look down, I feel a little queasy. Vertigo…but something nudges me forward and I go. Wide turn, and then another, and then I find my center, and confidence. I cruise down that hill. I get to the bottom and look up. YES!!!  I did it. Tchau fear–for this time.

And there’s the lesson. It’s not about eliminating fear. There will always be another run, another event in life that causes me to feel it. It’s about how I learn to deal with fear, act in the face of it, and always conquer it with total confidence in myself and my abilities (not being stupid or reckless, obviously). Epiphany on a ski run? Quite possibly. It’s great to be back on the slopes.

You probably have been in this situation. There’s a new restaurant of a well-known chef. It was hard to get a table but you managed to score one. You arrive with your date and the architecture is dazzling. There are beautiful people everywhere and the vibe is super cool. Everything is in order to have a magical, unforgettable evening. You sit down, excited to see the menu and what culinary creativity awaits you. And you wait.

“Wow, they’re pretty busy today,” you think to yourself.

You wait some more. After what feels like an eternity, a waiter appears, says nothing (or gives a weak grin at best), and leaves the menus strewn on the table.  Another 30 minute wait to order and savor your passion fruit sour, or martini. “Damn,” you say, “I guess this kind of hot and trendy place is just like this”.

After another half hour, or more, your food arrives. It’s the wrong order. There are no explanations, no “I’m sorry sir (or ma’am).” Just excuses. And so far, there’s been not a single, real smile. The conversation at the table with your date has turned to being worried about how and when the waiter will serve you. The magic of the night evaporated in a big poof. When the bill arrives, finally, you don’t remember that the food was actually pretty delicious nor the innovative architecture. Nope. What sticks with you is the sensation of bad service. Being treated like a second class citizen–and paying for it! You feel empty and unsatisfied even though you’ve just eaten a full meal.

The opposite of this same situation is that upon being seated, the waiter introduces himself more as your host, there to serve you, and proceeds to make you feel at home that night. In reality, that IS his primary purpose in his job.  He helps you navigate the menu with patience and great suggestions. He’s at your disposal for anything you may need like filling your water or wine glass before it even occurs to you that you need more. When homemade raviolis stuffed with kingcrab arrive instead of your slow-braised venison, the answer is “No problem, we’ll take care of this immediately”. And while you wait, a glass of bubbly, on the house, shows up. When you leave the restaurant this time, you feel like you have not only had an amazing dinner but also a memorable, exquisite experience. A sensation of having been well attended.

Good service is basically an attitude, a way of being. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. After a decade in Chile, I can safely say that the service here tends to be quite spotty and mediocre. That’s not to say that there are not places that have wonderful service in Chile, but half the time, it would appear not to be the case. All it takes is one visit to our neighbor to the east, Argentina, to realize the huge gulf in service that still exists in Chile. So naturally, working in the service industry myself, the question that seriously perplexes me is, “Why is this?”  What’s really happening in Chile on a cultural level that bad (or mediocre) service is so wide spread? In fact, I would surmise that many Chileans even expect it and don’t question it. What the heck is going on here? I have various theories, but first, I want to define what, for me, constitutes great service.

Service embodies the energy behind any act or business, and the person providing or giving the service is the vehicle. Service is not something only done to you or with spoken words. Actions most often speak louder than words, and the absence of them too. These are essentially transmitted as signals of the company’s values. That is, how the company views itself and appreciates its clients, the company culture created by employees and how they feel about their job and themselves, and how all of this is expressed to the rest of the world. These factors determine your direct experience and resulting opinion about the place or business–and if you’ll bring your business back there again.

Good service is basically the visible face of any business. The formula is quite simple, like the golden rule: serve unto others as you would like to be served. And always, ALWAYS, give more than is required or expected of you. Not because you have to do it, but because you WANT to. You really care and want to be your best. Good service is always done with respect, a grateful attitude, patience, pride, and love (for yourself and others). Your attitude and consequent service reflect the esteemed person you feel you are–or the lack of that. I truly believe that we are ALL here to serve each other in this lifetime, in whatever it is we do. It is always, or should be, to better and bring more to other people’s lives. Service, in all its manifestations, is the most honorable profession in life. The business(es) that fail to recognize this are usually destined to failure. We all, at our most intimate soul level, seek to be served well and understood. That’s human nature.

Then, the questions that I ask is, “Why is this dynamic of good service something that happens so sporadically in Chile?”

I believe that it begins with the generalized notion here that serving is, somehow, inferior to other jobs. That the person who is in a service position has less worth and has failed to make more of themselves in life. I am serious, this attitude is prevalent here. And it does not only apply to waiters and waitresses in the food business. You can get a sense of it with attitudes and treatment of domestic help, bus drivers, gardeners, even cashiers in supermarkets. The list is endless. In Chile though, where passive aggressive communication is the norm, it is never spoken but heavily insinuated and felt. Actions speak clearly.  It is just absurd. I don’t understand it. Really…how could the type of JOB that a person does make them better than another human being?

I will tell you how that manifests in Chilean culture. One word,  arribismo. A uniquely Chilean term, arribismo literally means “on top of another”. Or social ladder climbing and seeing oneself as better than another, usually based on social “position” or economic net worth. It is beyond being snobby. It alludes to classism and includes treating other people like crap, primarily on an energetic level. In Chile, it is so engrained culturally from birth that is borders on being an art form.

Unfortunately, when this kind of dynamic takes place, for example with business owners, they treat their employees not like the face of their business, but as lesser human beings. And what follows is resentment towards the boss, their job, the company, and worst of all, the client. This is often expressed with a nonchalant demeanor, reverse snobbism (what they call pequeños poderes, little powers, bureaucracy meant to make you miserable for no reason), or just being unfriendly, unhelpful, and generally not nice.

It’s such a shame. My soul aches when I see this. I try to be compassionate when it happens as it is ignorance. Non-awareness. It is simply not understood that in each and every job we have in our lifetime, we have the opportunity to serve others and express our own potential 100%. Give it our best, no matter what it is we are doing. By acting like the above (negatively), a vicious cycle is created and perpetually repeated. It really only hurts the person(s) not understanding this dynamic. Just like entering a dark room, you can flip the switch and bring light in at any time. If you know the switch exists.

So going back to mediocre service in Chilean restaurants, many times, I observe that the downward spiral actually beginning with the client. They sit down in a huff, yell at the waiter, and treat him/her like a disposable person. The client looks down upon them, snaps at them, ushers them away, throws money at them, and acts as if they didn’t even exist. And most shockingly, I have seen this occur in many of Santiago’s “best” restaurants. In fact, I will be honest with you guys. I even had this happen to me when I catered for wealthy families in Chile right after  I quit investment banking to follow my passion (food and wine!).

The good news is, there’s a solution–for everyone. Mutual respect. For oneself and for others. And then, understanding and knowing on a deep level that we are all the same. We all belong and are part of the same world. Thus, in relating this to service, it is understanding that serving foie gras in a 3-star Michelin restaurant is as noble as serving fries and a burger at Burger King–when it’s done with a positively with a true attitude of wanting to help and serve others. Being well attended to and serving others well are simply two sides of the same coin.

Translated and adapted from August column in Placeres Magazine published in Chile. Thanks to Darkb4dawn for great pic of traditional waiter in Saint Germain, Paris.

When we talk about terroir-driven wines, one of the first wineries that Springs to mind, for my palate, is El Principal. Never heard of it? You’re probably not alone. It’s one of those (purposefully) under-the-radar wineries that pursues excellence in small quantities with a select, loyal audience that gets its mission and appreciates its wines. If you want to truly know the potential of the Alto Maipo terroir in the Andean foothills east of Pirque, these wines will open that door to you. If you try them blind, I am most certain you would never, ever suspect they are Chilean.

Last week we caught up with the winemaker Gonzalo Guzmán on site to see how the project has evolved over the past four years since the project changed owners. We walked the property,  tasted the new wines and vintages, and talked about life, a shared love of wine, what terroir really is, our wine “babies” (err, collections), and more.

History

Originally founded in 1998, El Principal winery was originally a partnership between Jorge Fontaine, owner of the Hacienda El Principal, and Jean-Paul Valette, former owner of Chateau Pavie in Saint Émilion, France (father of well known Chilean-French winemaker consultant Patrick Valette’s father). The objective? To produce top-quality red wines in this tiny, rugged corner of the Maipo in the French tradition. Fifty-four hectares of the property were selected and planted with high-density plots of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Carmenere and Cabernet Franc.

The story turned sad when Jean-Paul died right before the 1999 harvest. His son, Patrick, stepped forward to oversee the project and processed the 1999 (first) harvest, and El Principal was born.  Fast forward several years later. Jochen Doehle, the German owner of Doehle Latinamerica (logistics), bought the vineyard from the Valette family under the careful advisory of Geo Wines. Thus, a new team headed by winemaker Gonzalo Guzmán took over the project with the vision to further transform this astounding piece of Maipo terroir into something with even more potential and the long-term mission to produce some of the finest, Bordeaux-style wines from the “New World”.

The Terroir

El Principal is located the furthest east into the Andes of any other winery in Chile. Truly, as you approach the winery, you are surrounded by the chiseled granite peaks of the Andes cutting into the sky, sprinkled with white snow and year-round glaciers. Fifteen minutes east of Pirque, you feel like you are deep in the heart of the campo, countryside. Here, chickens run loose along the road, small farms are still tended by families, and the tiny kinship surrounding the winery, El Principal, feels like a far flung village. The only sounds are birds chirping and the wind rustling. Bucolic, in a word.

The vineyards are located along the hillsides on the piedmont with alluvial (poor) soil facing north. The ranges in soil in these vineyards are staggering given its relatively small surface area. The hills have light-colored clay, marbled with lime sediments, stone, and gravel, making for good drainage. One thing I felt very important in understanding was that the river water is chock full of trace minerals like iron which lend a subtle complexity to the wines. And obviously, given the vineyard is located in the foothills, the Andes play a huge influence on the viticulture here with temperatures fluctuating over 20°C between day and night. This allows for a slower ripening process and yields grapes that are super intense in flavor with high concentrations of polyphenols (what makes red wine so “good” for you), and serious tannins.

The Winemaker’s Mission

I’ll be honest. From my first encounter with El Principal 1999 and 2001 vintage, I was smitten. Then the wines sort of disappeared even in Chile. What had happened to the other vintages? Changes, changes, changes.

Meet El Principal’s talented winemaker, Gonzalo Guzman, who has worked in winemaking in Chile (Viña Errazuriz-Ovalle), New Zealand (Villa María), and Spain. He explained that the change in ownership meant a lot of new direction for the wines. Only up until 2001, the wines, at that time El Principal and Memorias, were bottled. The rest of the vintages were sold in bulk. Eek!

Guzman first aimed to transform the wines being sold in bulk into the top-notch quality to be bottled under the label El Principal. Certainly, the north on El Principal’s compass is quality and to continue making terroir wines. Dohle has a non-interventionist policy and basically given Guzman Carte Blanche when it comes to making the best decisions for the wine.

So after the changeover, the new owner invested heavily in making better, “cleaner” winemaking then ever before. They put over US$2 million in refitting the winery with new tanks, climatized cellar and bottle areas, construction of deep wells to procure purer water, drip irrigation, new vertical presses (for smoother results), and a battery of new French oak barrels.  Gonzalo’s also mapped out the vineyard by micro-zones by soil and climate to control the quality, and harvest,  to a T. He even vinifies in the tanks by micro-lots. Obsessive? Maybe, a little. Definitely passionate for truly showing what this corner of the Maipo terroir be. He’s also staging out planting new varieties like Petit Verdot, Syrah, and a couple hectares of the Spanish white grapes, Verdejo and Albariño (to go with their amazing, uncommercialized Sauvignon Blanc named Alqui).

In talking to Gonzalo though, his real objective is to reveal the potential of the wines from 2006 onward where his mano, hand, comes into play. He truly understands the notion of terroir and how to coax it out in wines, using them as literally an artistic medium for expression. He’s looking for distinctive, FRESH fruit. Complex yet approachable wines that are what they are. He strives to show the true identity of these wines. He’s even doing something completely counter-tendency in slowly transforming the label El Principal from being a Carmenere-Cabernet blend to a pure Cabernet Sauvignon over the next three years. Why? Because this is one of the best areas in the world for Cabernet. Period. How else can you typify and exude the true nature of Maipo Cabernet by diluting it in a blend? It’s a different approach. Actually, it’s pretty old school. He readily recognizes that they have been making wines like this in Europe for centuries, always seeking to express the most typical and best characteristics of the wines born in a certain place. Why shouldn’t this be the case in Chile? That’s his mission.

The Wines

I love our job. This tasting and visit gave me such juice to continue doing what we do! Tasting the wines onsite with the winemaker, then at lunch, and then over the next 2 days. These wines need time to open so if you have patience, you will be rewarded. By our Sunday lunch, 48 hours after being unbottled, these were manjares, nectars. Every single wine is a unique gem.

Calicanto 2008

Named after the imposing bridge over the Mapocho River in Santiago built between 1767 and 1779 with lime and egg whites as “mortar”, this is a blend of 60% Cabernet Sauvignon and 40%W Carmenere, aged for 13 months in French oak barrels.  The wine is fresh with spicy notes (like cloves) from the Carmenere and a deep cassis taste. In the mouth, it is balanced and mouthwatering. A bottle of this could disappear with little effort, especially at the retail price of 9.900 pesos (about US$20).

Memorias 2006

Memorias is made from Cabernet Sauvignon and Carmenere and aged for 14 months in French oak barrels. The increase in concentration here is obvious from first whiff, and then sip. Once again, freshness is immediately perceived in the aromas. This is an explosive, concentrated wine. I noticed a tension between this balance (elegance) of the fresh fruit and power of the tannins. It tugged and pulled. For being a 15% alcohol wine, while it is big, you would never know it. Nothing is out of balance: acidity, tannins, concentration all dance together in perfect harmony. (Retail 20.000, US$40)

El Principal 2006

The crown jewel of El Principal, this is a glimpse of where this is headed over the next few years to reach Gonzalo’s mission of one 100% estate Cabernet. In the mean time, this still has 17% Carmenere along with 83% Cabernet Sauvignon. The grapes hail from one particular area of the vineyard that is designated for this wine, of course, assuming the quality is there. It is handled delicately and aged in French oak barrels for 18 months.

This wine produced total umami for me, which does not happen frequently.It was ripe, FRESH, flavorful. It was deep and complex yet completely approachable with bright acidity. It oozed tons of juicy black plums, cherries, cassis, and a subtle minerality. It lingered for well over a few minutes. Perfect acidity and drink. One of the most mind-blowing wines I have tried in Chile this year. I cannot wait to see the evolution of this wines and future vintages. (Retail 43.000, US$85).

Procuring the Goods

El Principal is currently exporting to Brasil, Europe, and in the process of finding an importer for the US market. So if you’d like to get these, email me for more info on direct shipping. Or if you’re in Chile, score them at La Cav’s store in Alto Las Condes mall or in great restaurants like Baco Wine Bar (one of my favorite spots for wines in the capital). It’s worth the search. These are true Chilean wine terroir treasures. And thank you Gonzalo Guzman for your passion, diligence, and commitment to revealing these wines to the world!

Wondering what the heck is a picada? It’s simple. A joint. A simple eatery. In my humble opinion, if you want to know the soul of a cuisine, hit the joints. This is the people’s food. The kind of comfort food your grandma would make for you in the countryside. And with a lot of cariño too.

Santiago is FULL of picadas. If you want to know classic Chilean cuisine, huaso (cowboy) food, and the typical seasonal dishes that are the main stay of this culture, then by all means, pick one, or five, and dive in. Don’t forget the pisco sours, chicha, or god help you if you are adventurous, jote, table red wine mixed with Coca Cola (not joking!).

This is a small excerpt from our food & drink e-guide, Eat Wine Santiago, which by the way, both myself and the guide was just given a sweet mention in an article in UK’s main paper The Guardian on the food and cultural scene in Santiago. It was so hard to only pick five–there are SO many good picadas in this town from Peruvian to classic Chilean, seafood, sandwiches. I choose those focusing on traditional Chilean food that in the interest of better understanding what makes up Chilean gastronomy.

Bar Nacional

Huérfanos 1151, between Bandera and Morande, Santiago Centro (696 5986, www.barnacional1.cl), Metro: Plaza de Armas (green line). Open: Mon-Fri 7:30am-11pm Main Course: US$5-12 Credit: AE, DC, MC, V.

Off bustling Huérfanos, a main pedestrian walkway, and around the corner from the Pre-Colombian Museum, this Santiago classic is a favorite with locals for its homey, traditional food.  As you descend the steep staircase into their basement adorned with old photos, Bar Nacional feels like a bit of a nice hole-in-the-wall.  Simplicity is key here, where plates are abundant and seasonality rules.  In the summertime, ask for the porotos granados con mazamorra, a creamy fresh cranberry bean stew with pureed pumpkin and corn.  Their seared pork loin is juicy and delicious with palmito, (hearts of palm), avocado, and tomato salad.  If you love soups, don’t miss their signature caldo de gallo, a rich chicken stock that will revive you on a cold day.  Beverage-wise, skip the lethal pisco sours here and try some of Chile’s odder drink combinations like a jug of borgoña, or, for the brave, jote, red wine mixed with a coca-cola, a favorite in rural areas.

El Hoyo

San Vicente 375, corner Gorbea, (689 0339, www.elhoyo.cl), Metro: Estación Central (red line). Open: Mon-Fri 11am-11pm; Sat 11am-9pm Main Course: US$5-12 Credit: AE, DC, MC, V.

Hidden on a residential street not far from Estación Central, the central train station, this classic picada, joint, was founded in 1912 selling a few provisions like charqui (dried beef), hard-boiled eggs, and grape cider to train station workers.  Word spread, and little by little, the menu expanded.  Today, it is still run by Don Benjamín’s children.  El Hoyo is a hub for Chileans wanting to chow down on huge portions of their favorite hearty, rustic dishes.  The interior is simple and studded with empty wine casks that double as tables when the place fills up at lunch.  To start, try a pitcher of terremoto, a drink fittingly called an earthquake, made with a simple, fresh wine called pipeño and pineapple sorbet.  Sip slowly or risk becoming inebriated before lunch arrives.  Munch away on their homemade pebre (a tomatoey salsa) with crunchy bread. The highlights of the menu are: the arrollado, strips of pork loin marinated in paprika, cumin, garlic, and oregano, rolled up, poached and thinly sliced; and pernil, softly simmered pork shoulder that can be gnawed off the bone or sliced down into a sandwich.  Chileans also love to order morcilla here, blood sausage, and large plates of lomo a lo pobre, a giant steak on a mound of fries with onions and an over-easy egg.  Eat a light breakfast and do linger over a replica, a second round of the terremoto.  The live folk music, cheery attention, and authenticity of this place will make you want to stay.  On his visit to Santiago for No Reservations, Tony Bourdain fell in love with the joint.

El Quitapenas

Recoleta 1485, with Cementario General, Recoleta (737-8199), Metro: Cementerio (yellow line) Open: Daily 10am-10pm Main Course: $4-10 Credit: AE, DC, MC, V.

With over eighty years of history, ask owner Miguel Mendoza about the restaurant’s curious name, “take the pain away”, and he has several theories.  Located between two of Santiago’s largest cemeteries, General and Católico, for decades mourners have come after visiting loved ones’ graves to drown their sorrows in big bowls of comforting, homey food.  It is the kind of cuisine that feeds your mortal soul and cheers your spirit.  Once a stop for the funeral processions making their way to the cemeteries off neighboring La Paz avenue, Miguel also claims that the incredibly popular soccer team, Colo-Colo, was born in this humble joint over an arrollado huaso, marinated pork roll.  Today, it feels like an old-time soda parlor that is so spic-and-span it gleams.  Pop in a coin in the old jukebox, a Wurlitzer, and cry your heart out over delicious food like porotos con riendas.

Venezia

Pío Nono 200, corner Antonia López de Bello, (777 5869) Metro: Baquedano (red and green lines) Open: Mon-Thurs 1pm-midnight; Sat 11-2:30am Main Course: US$8-12. Credit: AE, DC, MC, V.

This old-fashioned family picada has been serving up Chilean home cooking for over seventy-five years.  Its name has nothing to do with the Italian city of Venice… well, at least not directly.  Actually, back in the day, the rain channels coming off the towering San Cristóbal hill crossed the corner of what was to become the restaurant.  First a rotisserie, then a soda fountain, according to owner Andrés González, the neighbors began to refer to the place as Venezia, referring to the canals channeling the water towards the Río Mapocho.  The name stuck.  Today, the place sprawls across the corner– look for an aquamarine façade with tables along the sidewalk.  Inside, its red walls are covered with vintage photos of family and friends and soccer team pennants.  For decades, politicians, actors, artists, families, and even poet Pablo Neruda have congregated here for gargantuan helpings of dishes made only at home.  The menu rotates seasonally and features daily specials.  In the winter, order the warming Charquicán, a Mapuche vegetable-beef potage made with creamy pumpkin, beef cubes, and potatoes.  Also popular is the costillar, a rack of marinated pork ribs with mashed potatoes.  In the summertime, the porotos granados, cranberry bean stew, has a twist with a fried egg on top.  With fiery pebre, it is the perfect meal.  Portions are big enough to be split… depending on your appetite, of course.

Puerto Calbuco

Francisco Bilbao 908, with José Manuel Infante (251 8078), Open: Sun-Mon 12:30pm-5:00pm, Tues-Sat12:30pm-Midnight Metro: Salvador; Bus: 501, 508 Main Course: US$14-16 Credit: No credit cards.

If you are an oyster junkie, you may have found your Mecca.  Serving up primo wild oysters from the cold currents of the South, this tiny little boliche, hidden on bustling Bilbao, focuses on bivalves, seafood, and the traditional curanto, a hearty surf and turf feast served mostly in the South.  The owners, the Soto family, are purveyors of oysters (Ostras Calbuco, also in this guide), with their shop about two doors down.  Just to give you an idea, here you can feast on two dozen oysters for about US$8, obviously the perfect way to kick off dinner.  Also delicious are the crunchy seafood empanadas. For the main course, the real star of the show is the curanto, here made in a deep pot.  Shellfish is steamed with sausages, meat, and chapeleles (mashed potato fritters) and milcao (potato pancake with lardoons).  The place is simple with no pretensions, and the wine is served in tall glasses instead of elegant tear drops.  Best of all, is the warmth of the people.  They bring with them the refreshing air of the South.  It is one of those places that will quickly become a favorite.

Didn’t get your copy of Eat Wine Santiago yet? You can grab your copy here.

Thank to Mauri Hughes for El Hoyo pics and Paul Lowry for Quitapenas (notice the flowers for the cemetery).

I know, your first thought may be, “Uruguayan Wine Country? Seriously?”

Yes, it’s true. This cattle-producing country may get more international buzz for its grass-fed steaks, stinky old world cheeses, and pristine beaches, but it is just a matter of time before people catch onto the amazing wines being made there. It’s on the radar.

Having just spent another five days during last week in the wine country with clients, in addition to pounding the pavement in Montevideo to get a grasp on its barrios, vibe, and restaurants of course (Eat Wine Montevideo forthcoming…), I want to share with you all some of the reasons why Uruguay must be on your wine radar—and next itinerary to South America.  In upcoming posts, I will be zooming in on Uruguayan local culture along with some of the specific producers exporting in small quantities to the US so you guys can also taste first-hand what’s happening there.

Different Climate, Different History, Different Wines

First, I want to contextualize Uruguay within the Southern Cone since it is a very different animal than its Chilean and Argentine cousins when it comes to history, geography, and ultimately, wines. Montevideo was the first major Spanish port on the Atlantic during  the colonial period (the first settlement was Colonia, by the Portuguese, across from Buenos Aires) and today is the southernmost capital on the continent. It is also the smallest country in South America bounded on the west by Argentina and to the northeast by Brazil. It has a long coastline from the brackish and muddy-colored Río de la Plata, the grand estuary, to the azure waters of the Atlantic Ocean, often referred to as the “riviera”.

Uruguay is fairly flat ranging from elevations at sea level up to about 2,000 feet (Cerro Catedral). What really distinguishes it is its humid climate. The absence of mountains, which act as weather barriers, makes all of its locations vulnerable to high winds and rapid weather changes (tornados not unheard of!).

The wine producing areas are concentrated around Montevideo, outside Colonia, a couple in Atlántida and near Punta del Este. There also are some burgeoning sites in the northern areas of Salto and Cerro Chapeau. While the coastal areas are very humid with rolling green hills and limestone and clay soils, up north in Salto and Cerro Chapeau, as they are farther from the large bodies of water, the humidity drops considerably and the soils become rocky. Drier, warmer conditions and good drainage make for ripe, round wines–even Cabernet. So even within teeny Uruguay, you get a big variety of styles and grapes.

For now, we are going to focus on the area of Canelones where 85% of the wineries and vineyards are located. The humid, wet climate plays the biggest role in the viticulture along with the limestone soils. In Uruguay, no drop irrigation is needed as Mother Nature rains year-round. In fact, it’s not unusual, like in France, to get rain in the summer time or during harvest. Thus, they have different trellising systems to allow for ample ventilation.  Since the grow season is also shorter, many wineries focus on short-cycle reds that can reach their maturity without a problem (Carmenere would never fly here). The temperature oscillation between day and night is also much less than in Mendoza or Chile so essentially the grapes continue to ripen at night.

I could continue on and on but this is what I want you to take away. Uruguay’s climate is the closest I have seen in South America to Bordeaux. It’s humid. It’s at sea level. It has limestone soils rich in calcium. It’s seasonal. When they have a good vintage it is mind-blowing. Off years can be duds (or great vinegar). As the wines aren’t sun-kissed and with this long, slow maturity like in Chile or Argentina, you’ve got some wild children that need time in the bottle to evolve. You need to take some time to understand these wines. Just like Bordeaux.

Headed to BA, Why Not Uruguay too?

Buenos Aires is the darling of urban destinations right now in the Southern cone; a seductive mix of European and Latin influences backed by a veritable boom in arts, culture, wining, and dining. Don’t forget Montevideo, Uruguay across the grand Río de la Plata.  Just a 30-minute hop on the “air bridge” from Aeroparque or three hours on the Buquebus ferry, and you’re in Montevideo, the capital.  It’s the perfect 2-3 days jaunt to explore the vineyards and this seriously underrated city. Or an ideal add-on en route to the glamour puss destination of Punta del Este.

And may I add this note, it is closer and easier to get to then Mendoza, which is 1.5 hours away by plane plus all the travel time involved. Want to understand rioplatense culture? Then hop over to Uruguay and try some of its wines.

Tannat and More

I love South American wines but sometimes all the fruit-forwardness, high alcohol, and “big” wines makes me want to seek some refuge for my pobre paladar in their European cousins. Well as I discovered in Uruguay, their wines are closer in structure, style, and taste to Europe—think Bordeaux, France; Rias Baixas in Galicia, Spain for whites; or even some of the austere Austrian reds. And the maximum alcohol tends to hover around 12.5-13% versus 14.5-15% in Mendoza, for example.

I am smitten with Tannat, a grape brough over by Basque immigrant Pascual Harriague in the late 1800s. It was planted throughout the country and up until about 10-15 years ago, little was done without beyond making a lot of simple, cheap and cheerful table wines. Today, Tannat, for my taste, is one of the great undiscovered world class wine varietals.

First things first. It’s not a fruit bomb that gets undressed immediately. It needs some time to reveal itself. Decant it, swirl it. Heck, walk away from it and come back a couple hours later. It’s an animal that is austere and far from obvious. It doesn’t offer up an aromatic nose like other wines such as Malbec or Chilean Cabernet. But in the mouth, when well constructed, it creates this push-and-pull tension structured by round tannins, zingy acid, Berry-laden flavors, and a hearty presence.

To get this wine, you have to understand how Uruguayans consume it. With a bife ancho, a baby beef steak. The marbled fat in the steak, or mature cheeses, really help tame the bigness of the tannins and just turn Tanna tinto pure lovin’. My favorite examples on this particular trip were the beloved Amat 2005 from Bodega Carrau, Pisano’s RPF 2007, De Lucca’s Rio Colorado, Pizzorno’s Reserva, Juanico’s Familia Deicas 1er Cru, and Eolo from Viñedo de los Vientos.

Alongside Tannat, the tradition of sparklers are the house rule. Every single winery makes them for local (and home) consumption. They can range from the commonplace brut (dry) to more odd combinations like Pisano’s “black” bubbly made from Tannat, a showstopper. Whites like Sauvignon Blanc and Albariño have also taken off with bright acidity and zesty fruits. The acidity was almost on par with Chile but the fruit more lush and alcohol blessed lighter. We paired these the one night at Montevideo’s best restaurant, Francis, specializing in seafood, with chipirones (baby squid), abadejo (haddock), and brotola (local white cod). Delicious in a word.

Meet the Owner, Know the Wine

What I also adore about Uruguayan Wine Country is the scale. The bodegas, wineries, are small and still family-owned and run. The owner or winemaker, or both, will always receive you. As Daniel Pisano said, “Meet the owner and you will already know the wine”. I agree with this statement. It’s impossible in such petit, hand-crafted operations that their passion, enthusiasm, and zeal isn’t infused in the wines.

Let me emphasize again the personalized nature of the wines. They are virtually all hand-made every step of the way. Even the “big boy”, Juanicó, the largest producer in Uruguay, would still only be considered a small-sized winery in Chile or Argentina. And here’s something to chew on, roughly all the wine that Chile lost in the February 2010 earthquake, is equivalent to the entire amount Uruguay produced in 2009. It’s small, but that’s part of the draw.

Particularly, when wine is increasingly becoming like Coca Cola in some markets, in this day and age, being able to connect with the spirit of a person, place, moment in time through a bottle of wine is something truly poetic. Sitting with Daniel Pisano in his winery, or Margarita Carrau over Amat and a perfect carbonada, or Pablo and Mariana, the young, super cool owners of Viñedo de los Vientos, you quite simply get it. You tap into that buzz, that instantaneous connection when these people’s purpose and passion is transmitted–and received. It makes me even more passionate about sharing this–and is a constant reminder why I live to do this.

And THEN, oh boy, THEN you see the price point of these wines. Most icon wines range from US$15-45 retail. And at the wineries, even less. It blows Chile and Argentina out of the water in the price-quality boat and undoubtedly will make you pledge allegiance to Uruguayan wines even more.

Needless to say I brought back numerous babies (bottles) of Tannat for our Collection to remember these people and their projects.

So Close Yet So Far Away

Uruguay’s main wine region is located in the area called Canelones, about 20-30 minutes from downtown Montevideo. In less than 10 minutes you are out in the verdant, pastoral countryside and drawn into the most bucolic of settings.  Here, you still see carts drawn by horses and people tending to the fields with hand farm Tools. Of course, there’s no signage whatsoever of road names nor entrances to the wineries themselves but that’s part of the charm (along with some wrong tursn). It feels undiscovered. Far away. Almost like you’re going to visit family. You are, in a sense.

Uruguayan Hospitality at its Finest

Uruguayans are quite possibly the friendliest people in the Southern Cone. They will truly bend over backwards to make sure that any, and every, visitor to their country is taken care of. They roll out the red carpet. Once again, as Italian and Spanish immigrants, family and friends are a vital component of their daily life and culture. They welcome visitors and consider them as a sort of extended family. Take a taxi to/from the airport? My friends/colleagues there wouldn’t hear of it? Needed a guide on a Saturday in Montevideo? We’ll take you!

Warm, generous, helpful, they love to engage in long lunches, spirited conversation about anything from their history to tango, soccer, and of course, wine. Every time I leave, my sensation is wanting to return again. Not just because of the place itself, which is topographically different from Chile and Argentina. It’s the people. You forge friendships there that are sincere. And you drink a lot, A LOT, of good wine. What a great way to experience a country. I am hooked on Uruguay–and hopefully I can get you guys hooked too.

And now for the shameless plug for our tours business: Liz Caskey Culinary & Wine Experiences offers 2-and 3-day itineraries to the Uruguayan wine country around Montevideo. We can coordinate everything from ferry tickets from BA to all the first-class transfers, winery visits and top tastings, private luncheons, and more. Contact us at info@lizcaskey.com for more information.

Well, it’s over. The Food & Wine Classic in Aspen that is. What an intense weekend. Literally about four days of work and schmoozing in my case. For those of you not familiar with the event, let me enlighten you. It all started 28 years ago when Food & Wine magazine in the US devised a festival to bring together celebrated chefs, sommeliers, restauranteurs, food industry figures and wineries with the general public–in a spectacular setting.

Certainly, Aspen is a huge part of the draw. I was enchanted by the place and its isolation and the laid back, chic, natural lifestyle. Let me take you there.

I flew from Denver over the Rockies on a tiny jet into Aspen, nestled amid the folds of the verdant mountains and jagged peaks, still covered from a random dusting of snow the week before. As we banked to the left on approach, I caught a glimpse of Maroon Bells, quite possibly the most photographed mountain in North America. Aspen is a tiny town, developed in the 1940s, with a permanent population of 6,000 residents. This figure doubles during ski season and the F&W Classic. Posh and boasting many celebrity residents during high season, it’s obvious why people are smitten with the place. Clean air, panoramic vistas, nature, hiking, biking, skiing in the winter, rafting and golf in the summer, and thousands of miles of trails are a way of life. The sheer beauty of the place and freakishly amazing summer weather had me sold say, um 10 minutes. Seriously, imagine 80F with sun, no clouds, 10% humidity and a cool breeze. But oh, that’s Chile in the summer too…Although situated at 8,000 feet above sea level, I didn’t notice the altitude other than having to drink copious amounts of water, being slightly winded on some vertical hikes, and having one memorable margarita hit me like a 2×4.

Back to the festival, honestly, I think the attraction for many is the celebrity chefs and the chance to mingle, learn, sip, taste, and have a damn good time with them. This year the line up read like a gastronomic Who’s Who: Mario Batali, Giada de Laurentis, Thomas Keller of Per Se and The French Laundry (in photo below), Gail Simmons (host Top Chef), Tom Colicchio, Jacques Pepin, among others. Divided up into seminars on everything from Bordeaux to cheese and cooking demos, in between the crowds made a bee line for the “Grand Tastings” in the tent. Combined with the parties each night, literally you could eat and drink non-stop until you dropped if you wanted to (I got seriously burnt out by end of Day 2).

My reason for attending the Classic was part of my collaboration with Emiliana Orgánico winery acting as their “culinary ambassador” (read: chef/ food pairings) in the US. Emiliana belongs to the Banfi group, importers of many great wines from Argentina, Italy along with Concha y Toro who had a big presence at the Classic. Keep posted as I will be sharing some upcoming wine pairing videos we produced in my kitchen with Emiliana too.

I teamed up with the great cheerleader/export manager, Fernando Pavón and honestly, we seriously rocked the Emiliana stand pouring out the fresh, clean unoaked Natura Chardonnay and Carmenere paired with my play on a tortilla rescoldo, Chilean tortilla, in miniature made with fresh corn and cornmeal. I topped it with a seared avocado pebre, a sort of pico de gallo. A total hit always with a line and one of the few healthy, vegetarian “bites” at the event to my surprise (more on that in another post). Chilean wines in general made a big splash at this event with EIGHT wineries present.

After the day’s fun, everybody got primped up and pimped out to schmooze at the many parties. From the Publisher’s party at sunset atop Aspen Mountain to the Best New Chefs on Saturday night where young chefs whipped up crazy creations (some tasty, others plain icky and weird) and the private ones like Riesling party after with the sommelier of Le Bernandin in NYC, Aldo Sohm served the memorable Donhoff Riesling. There was always action somewhere. The consumers partied hard, rubbed elbows with their culinary idols. The professionals, trade, and press marketed and networked. The last day I had free to soak it up and enjoy. But I was so tired, my liver in shutdown mode from lack of green veggies, champagne for breakfast (again) and too many carbs , that all I could muster was a few sips and a big nap by the pool before a long walk on the Rio Grande trail.

And Aspen…the grand seducer. Next time, I want a week to explore more and detox there, not in Florida. Seriously thought, it is spectacular. No wonder they keep coming back to do a repeat every June.

This year I celebrate a decade living in Chile. Ten years.

It has flown by. I have noticed by my expat, and Chilean friends, who have arrived and left. And I stay. If you were to ask me why, I would respond quite simply, “For love”. Love for Chile, the life I have made with my husband and his family here, our life (business) project. I also really feel that Chile is an exquisite base to live and explore the world. Moving to the end of the American continent by no means restricts international travel. You just become a pro, very quickly, at sleeping on 8-hour flights.

Something funny and unexpected has been happening to me on my frequent trips to the States as of late. My mother land now feels like a foreign country. Chile officially is my reference for daily life. Of course, the language, culture, and way people are in the US is familiar but it feels different. In a good way. I actually am rediscovering my own country after being afar. Life is ironic. I have had to spend nearly a third of life abroad to value what being American means and how much we have and take for granted when in the “US” bubble. Fortunately, I now am seeing the US with fresh eyes and an open mind to experience it how it is. Before I moved here, I remember this sensation of wanting to escape what I didn’t like. I knew there was more outside the borders. But in my desire to go far, I pushed away what was my own–for a while.

Now I have a tremendous sensation of reconnection with my mother country and gratitude. I mean how cool is my life that I get to have each foot in a different country and culture. And both now feel like mine–yet foreign and new all the time. Damn, that is exciting.

I got back not too long ago from a culinary conference in the Northwest in Portland, Oregon. Portland is definitely the most organized and “green” city I have ever visited. The rolling hills are forested with pines, the verdant parks full of budding tulips as spring tried to draw near, and all the lawns and houses meticulously manicured. In the distance, one afternoon, I finally saw the volcano, Mount Hood, which immediately reminded me of the hovering Osorno volcano in Puerto Varas in the south of Chile. Let’s be clear though. I used the conference as a spring board to eat and drink my way through one of the US’s major foodie destinations. And a very hip, open-minded place I may add. I arrived with a laundry list of restaurants and fresh ingredients to try from the quarter-sized oysters to fiddlehead greens, the Thai Mecca Pok Pok, and a lot, LOT, of Pinot Noir.

Oregon is the frontier, the old west that represents the pioneer, and American dream of independence and prosperity. Certainly it is a very different place from the colonial-esque, Amish country where I grew up in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. In Oregon, everything feels in balance. People live in harmony with nature, contemplating themselves as part of her, not separate. This shows in the “green” nature but also the fact they are very outdoorsy, despite some seriously rainy weather. They bike everywhere. The city is open, clean, and does not feel overpopulated or claustrophobic like Manhattan. The Portlanders are also an independent, relaxed, and somewhat irreverent bunch. Grunge is still very alive and big, BIG tattos are as common as earrings. Here immigrants from Vietnam, China, and a whole community of San Francisco “expats” have arrived seeking the clean air, healthy lifestyle, and more reasonably priced real estate.

Everything in Portland is organic, sustainable and supports small farmers to encourage this kind of responsible food production. I was blown away how many restaurants had the farm-to-table philosophy and even their own gardens to supply the locale. Amazing. I arrived just in time to dive into tender, spring produce: fiddlehead greens (slightly bitter, crunchy, and addictive), rhubarb, ramps, morels, and baby chard. Besides the veggies, the animals seemed to live a happy life, before ending up on our plate.  I was wooed by the seafood from black bass to kunamoto oysters (I can put away a dozen at a shot…) and plump, sweet scallops the size of a baby’s palm. Of course, never have I seen so many vegetarian and vegan restaurants too. A Mecca. I even decided to overcome my skepticism about how any vegan baked good could taste better than cardboard and went to Sweet Pea. They fooled me with a killer gluten-free muffin AND a latte made with hazelnut milk. Perfect for the chilly, rainbow-laden morning.

After being in Portland for 5 days with rain, sun, more clouds and rain, and a constant chill (can I not hack any cold weather anymore??!), I finally get the coffee habit in the northwest. Of course you need something to perk you up. Warm and full of caffeine goodness. The cafés themselves are unique spaces to be–cruise the wifi, read a book, meet with friends, hang out with your dog–or kids. A cozy break to warm up before heading back out into the elements. And quite honestly, the coffee kicked butt. Especially compared to rampant Nescafé in Chile, or even standard American coffee (err, Folgers), that seems to be so watery or burnt (Starbucks!). I drank a lot of espresso too, now that I am convert.

It was an odyssey of flavors. Intense and diverse like the place. Something happened though in the middle of the trip. The scenery and climate reminded me of the south of Chile, like Puerto Varas, and I got nostalgic. The seasonlity and foodstuffs too. It almost felt like an uber developed version of Chile, or what Chile could be (with Latin flair of course). Portland changed how I look at food and its relationship to the environment and community. How people live in nature. Inspiration to bring back with me. But by the end of my stay, I was d-y-i-n-g to board the plane. It wasn’t the fact we’d just bought our dream apartment in Santiago. I was ready to go home to my other home. Chilito.

I am so, so, so lucky be able to have, and live, in my Two Americas.

Text translated and adapted from monthly column for May published Placeres Magazine in Chile. Thanks to Fetopher for the Portland pics in Spring.

A couple weeks ago, I took you all on a joy walk through my hood, Lastarria / Bellas Artes. Santiago’s neighborhoods are the soul of this city. The press and travel guides, whose names shall remain unmentioned, have done a dismal job of portraying this aspect of Santiago accurately, at least in the past. They tend to write off the whole city as a South American Suburban version of Orange County, California. Obviously they never dove into these areas full of history and life–like Patronato.  These neighborhoods reflect their multi-ethnic residents, full of color and life, who bring meaning and a spark to these metropolis.

Perhaps no area in Santiago is as multi-ethnic nor intense as Patronato. Once part of the area known as La Chimba during colonization, which means “other side” (of the river) in quechua, today Patronato is delimited by the streets of Recoleta to the west, Loreto to the east, Bellavista to the south and Dominica to the north. Since its founding’s in the early 1900s, it has been home to many immigrant groups arriving in Chile for a new life, primarily Arabs (Palestinians and Syrians), Koreans, and today, a massive influx of Chinese. A tad off subject yet still relevant, did you all know that Chile has the largest Palestinian community outside of Palestine? Both Muslim and Christian.

Crossing the river from Bellas Artes over into Patronato, the landscape changes dramatically. The facades go back to the early 1900s. Tall, grand buildings painted in a shade of rainbows that are just a tad shabby. The store fronts become more popular with imposing neon signs and throbbing like a disco. Clothing, clothing everywhere. Yes, this is the garment district—with an Asia-meets-Middle Eastern-meets Latin vibe. Funky? Oh yeah.

The streets of Patronato feel like a labyrinth. At any given moment, especially Saturdays, they are filled to the brim with crowds. Elbow, push, shove your way to the next corner. Window shopping, while possible takes some patience and diligence. To get started, let’s depart from the Fine Arts museum. Cross the Loreto Bridge. Be careful looking both ways at Santa María Street. For some reason, this corner seems to have an invisible sign of “Hit Pedestrians, 10 points”. As you stroll over the scenic, murky waters of the Mapocho, gaze at the mountains that form a wall. The Chilean Wall. Thankfully for the city, a river clean up project is underway. According to some ambitious mayors and planners, a series of locks could eventually create a waterfront. Some day…

As you walk up Loreto Street, stop by the restobar El Toro for some homey pastas and a vodka tonic. Don’t flinch when they serve a glass of vodka on the rocks and tonic on the side. This edgy bar is a favorite with the gay crowd and one of the few places open on Sunday for lunch/brunch with outdoor tables. I personally love the crayons to doodle on the place mats as I wait for my cannelloni or big salad.

Up on Antonia Lopez de Bello, hang a left. Enter the world of cheap fashion designs, the heart of Patronato. Please don’t go to Patronato expecting designer clothing nor quality. It is disposable fashion with every imaginable style and accessory. Vuitton knock-offs? Check. Mardi Gras beads? Check. Halter tops that seem to be popular with muffin top school girls? Check. More polyester than you’ll ever see. Careful with your smokes, an innocent butt could cause a blaze in this synthetic world.

So why do I love Patronato? It’s full of characters. It’s real. And damn, there’s some good food ethnic food to be bought (for provisions) and eaten while there. Keep in mind that Middle Eastern immigrants, primarily from Syria and Palestine, first settled here in the 1920s.  Although many of those families have since moved to other areas of town, their businesses are still based here as and a legacy of their ethnic restaurants and specialty shops pepper the area.  Today, contributing to cacophony of languages and music, colors and smells, is a new wave of Korean immigrants who have opened a plethora of Asian supermarkets and Korean restaurants.  Patronato is an interesting study in Chile’s immigrant communities to say the least.

To get that gastronomic study underway, stop at Sukine on Antonia Lopez de Bello 244 (735-8693). Korean food in Santiago?  Yes, you read that right.  The largest Asian immigration today is from Korea, so it stands to reason that you can find some pretty authentic food here.  Don’t walk too fast or you will pass it.  A-hole-in-the-wall kind of place, most patrons are Korean, but the one Spanish-speaking waitress will kindly indoctrinate you to the finer points of this lesser-known Asian cuisine.  Order the wok with marinated pork and vegetables prepared at your table.  It easily feeds two with all the pungent, fermented side dishes like chili and the ubiquitous kimchi.  Although your shirt may reek of garlic upon leaving, it is a rather unique, and decent, exploration into the Asian immigrant community in Santiago.

Across the street is China House, one of the four Asian grocers on this street. These are the new kids on the block, but don’t be confused:  the two storefronts adjacent to each other stock somewhat different items.  This is a great place to stock up on harder-to-find Chinese and Southeast Asian ingredients.  They carry a dizzying selection: dried seaweed, bean sauce, chili paste and sambal, sheets of dried bean curd, wasabi peas, soba, Chinese egg noodles, Chinese oyster sauce, black vinegar, sesame oil, and curry paste, among many others.  This is also the only Asian store in Patronato that is open on Sundays.

Turn right and head up Rio de Janeiro. You are wandering into Middle Eastern territory now. The Palestinian flag flapping in the wind is your visual marker that you are close to Santiago’s tastiest schwarma,  El Rinconcito Arábe, Eusebio Lillo 506, corner Manzano (735 8840, 08-215-3465). Perched on a colorful corner of the Patronato garment district, El Rinconcito Arábe was one of the first Middle Eastern joints in the neighborhood.  This tiny locale has only a couple of tables and is attended by owner Nabil Abuhadba.  He serves up classic favorites like meat-stuffed vegetables (grape leaves, baby zucchini, eggplant, and chilies), kibbe, and hummus.  He is also known across town for his mean schwarma.  He skillfully marinates thin slices of meat with cumin, olive oil and lemon juice and slow roasts them.  As he slices them off into a warm pita and piles on the fresh tomato and tahini, let him teach you some of the finer points of Chilean cussing (i.e. huevón “mania”).

Continue past embroidery firms, and sweatshirt companies to Al Mustafa at Río de Janeiro 405, with Eusebio Lillo (737 5920). I am not a dessert eater but I have a total weakness for Middle Eastern sweets. Goey, yummy heaven with mint tea. Recently opened by new immigrants from Palestine, their specialties are dainty little Middle Eastern pastries like baklawa, borma, sesame cookies, semolina cakes, borma, and ceregli.  The store smells like sweet, sticky syrup, and the pastries are so beautiful and tempting, you can hardly wait to get home to tuck into them.  Ideal for a dessert buffet, when in Patronato, stop by for a snack and support a new immigrant family’s dream of prosperity in the New World.

At Santa Filomena, you have two options. Bare left and you get to the Patronato metro stop (yellow line) and entrance to the expansive La Vega produce market, my favorite place in all of Santiago. Bare right and back at Loreto, you get to one of Santiago’s hottest restaurants right now, Vietnam Discovery, if you can get a table. Here a French-Thai couple opened a six-table, eternally overbooked restaurant serving lots of the classics. Very cute and on the fringes of the hood, I hope it encourages more young, ethnic places to open!

Heading north on Río de Janeiro towards Dominica, if you are having a good lamb supplier crisis, look no farther. Hermanos Urrutia, on Buenos Aires 305, corner Río de Janeiro, Recoleta (737 8302) to the rescue. For over fifty years, the Palestinian and Syrian communities have been coming to these brothers to buy fresh lamb that was raised in the pastures of Marchigue in the Colchagua valley.  The clientele of this little emporium arrive by dato and take home whole legs of lamb, lamb shank, lamb filet, or an entire rack of lamb to grill at fantastic prices.  Many days, they also have kibbe, Arab-style ground beef with spices, bulghur, and parsley, and syrupy sweet semolina cakes.  The brothers are a riot: now in their late 70s, they speak in rapid Arabic while boogying to salsa on the radio.

While the economic blood of Patronato may be clothing and accessories, with a  dash of ethnic food, this is not your massive mall stuff. It is still family-run small businesses. They push good prices and the people come. For younger, hipper designs, visit the stores on Manzano between Antonia Lopez de Bello and Bellavista (keep in mind the polyester thing though). Certainly Patronato is a crash of cultures, buyers, shoppers, police, Chileans, foreigners, and a hell of a lot of garments. Check it out. It’s real. It’s bright. It’s flashy. It’s exotic. It freaking rocks.

To get more tips and “datos” on Patronato’s ethnic haunts, authentic restaurants, shops in addition to the low down on Santiago’s gastronomic scene, wines, and neighborhoods, get Liz’s Eat Wine Santiago foodie e-guide. It’s the first English-language food and drink to the capital. Download it immediately for less than the cost of one mediocre meal.

Thanks to Barrio Patronato and Mi Nuevo Hogar for the pics of the Patronato.

June is less than a week away and winter is officially here. It’s like the mercury suddenly dropped as Mother Nature knew Fall was over. A second rainfall recently covered the Andes with snow and according to the folks at Portillo and Las Leñas, ski season is about to get off the ground here in 2.5 weeks. While in Santiago and Mendoza we may have killer views of the snow-covered Andes, down at lower elevations, the sun still comes out and can warm up the days into the 50s and even 60s, with fresh breezes from the Andes.

Apart from my stomping ground of Santiago, I adore Mendoza, Argentina a quick (and beautiful) 5 hour drive over the Andes. It also happens to be the very happening wine capital of Argentina, much like Bordeaux in France or Napa in California. Mendoza is a hubbub of people from all corners of Planet Earth coming and going. The reason? To drink lots, and I mean lots, of silky Malbec in all its infinite expressions. If you think there’s only one style of Malbec, whoa baby, think again. That’s like saying that Napa only makes one type of Cabernet Sauvignon. But unless you come here to understand it first hand, it’s hard to wrap your head around that idea. And then throw in some Bonarda and Torrontes (native grapes) and ethereal bubbly and you’ve got loads of wine and outdoorsy entertainment.

The Mendoza climate is quite different yet similar to Santiago. First off, while arid, it is a bonified desert. Without the thousands of irrigation channels, life there would be near impossible and the green you see would completely disappear. Water is not a minor issue in Mendoza–it’s a major commodity. Mendoza gets dry and hot-as-hell during the summer with cool nights and in the winter, remains dry with a little rain fall. The bonus point is that the sun still shines in all her glory, similar to the southwest of the US where snowbirds head to Arizona and New Mexico. Mendoza also sits on a plateau as the Andes gradually lower into the flat, sprawling Pampas to the east. That means that the mountains stretch out in Mendoza for miles and miles, which you can see. In Santiago, we are on top of them so it’s like looking up to the top of a ladder, or a tree. The “Great Wall of Chile” if you will.

So, contrary to popular belief, winter is a GREAT time to come down to South America and Mendoza. Particularly in Argentina which has been on the HOT list for the past year, the crowds thin out, the weather cools down to be pleasant, you can ski (if you’re into that…), and there are lots of promotions on airfare to the region and at cool hotels like Cavas Wine Lodge.

Seriously, consider coming to join us to experience a taste of Argentine style and the dulce vida, sweet life, treating yourself to total relaxation, pampering, and gorgeous views of the chiseled Andes and escape the stifling heat up north (June and already in the mid-90s, say what??!). We’ll shack you up at the acclaimed Relais & Chateaux property, Cavas Wine Lodge—at 40% off the normal listed nightly rate.

Need we give you more juice to get down to these latitudes pronto?

Every morning watch the dawn break and sink your teeth into buttery medialunas, Argentina’s version of the croissant, slathered with addictive dulce de leche, milk caramel and a heady espresso. After, we’ll guide you into the region’s famed vineyards to get a handle on Argentina’s flagship wines and winemakers. As you sip and taste your way through Argentina’s most exciting wine region, we’ll connect you with our food and wine peeps, the passionate vintners, chefs, farmers, and owners who put a name and face to each and every project. Discover the local gastronomy with organic produce, freshly pressed artisan olive oil, private cooking lessons, and the most perfect grass fed steak you’ll ever behold—and devour.

At the end of the day, retire to your picture perfect Cavas cabaña to cuddle up under the stars on the rooftop terrace and watch the chiseled Andes fade away in a swath of magenta by a roaring fire. Authentic, romantic, and inspirational, you’ll get the insider’s view on classic and modern takes of Argentina’s food, wines, and the local culture. All in three days and two nights. Just a short hop or add-on from Santiago or Buenos Aires.

Ojo, attention, this is valid only from July 10 – September 14, 2010. Given that Cavas is a boutique hotel, spaces/rooms are quite limited. Time is of essence. Contact us at our US direct number, 904 687 0340, or email us for more details and prices.

Thanks to my husband (also the photographer for this blog), Francisco Ramirez for capturing Cavas during a recent romp there in winter; and Flickr buddy, amverdulla with good pics from neighboring Argentina.

For decades, North Americans have been flocking to Mediterranean destinations like Italy, Spain, Greece, the French Riviera, Turkey for the culture—and let’s face it, seeking sunny holidays. Looking at the climate of the coastal fringes of the sea, it is not hard to see why—long hot summers, with more or less guaranteed sunshine, and mild, wetter winters. Heck, the United States has its own Mediterranean paradise, California, which is currently (as per the last census) the most populated state in the nation. Could it be the delicious climate and all that California sunshine? Must be. This geography seduces and rules!

Nothing beats a Mediterranean climate. I am a Northeastern convert and quite frankly, I never plan on living in a non-Mediterranean climate for the rest of my life. It’s just too good to be true. It is paradise. Much of the year is dry, warm, sunny and thankfully so bug-free (minus flies and honeybees) that I don’t even need screens on my windows. After being bored with a couple hundred days of straight sunshine, the temperatures eventually drop and the exquisite pitter patter of rain comes to turn everything emerald. Literally every crop known to man, save mangos and the tropical bunch, can grow in these places, and a lot of blessed grapes, which makes for lots of vino.

There’s really only a handful of places on the entire planet that can boast this type of setting:  Southern and southwestern Australia, coastal California, the Western Cape of South Africa, the Mediterranean Basin, and central Chile. Yes, that’s right. Chile has the same climate as Italy, Spain, and California (and all the above-mentioned). People seem to selectively forget this–or just out of non-awareness, don’t make that connection. Well, let’s get that ironed out quickly.

Chile’s Mediterranean climate is located in the area known as the Central Valley, along with the coast, which stretches from 34 – 38 ° S, which is right across the Pacific from another Mediterranean place, Sydney, Australia. The Central Valley is squeezed between the chiseled Andes and rolling coastal mountains, formed by glaciers and the eroding mountains, and comprises the cities of Santiago (capital), Rancagua, Concepción (Bío Bío) and all the cities in between. Over 70% of the total population of Chile lives in this area.

It is truly a fertile heartland and the agricultural powerhouse of Chile. Mile after mile is planted with corn, wheat, grapes, orchards, olive trees, farms, livestock grazing dotted with red-tiled villages and kinships. Vistas from the countryside always have the background of the gleaming, snowcovered Andes in the distance. Perhaps every school child’s first drawing captures this. It is drilled into the visual and mental landscape of all Central Valley chilenos since birth. It’s a geological compass. In fact, the Central Valley is the area of Chile that produces much of the fruit and produce for export, feeding North America and Europe during their winter.

Now, you must know where I am headed with this…some juice to get you down here because Chile is just too delicious to not visit, any time of the year.

Scenario Uno: Let’s say you live in Houston, Texas or anywhere along the Gulf Coast. The mercury is hitting the 100+ degree mark again for the 3^rd month straight; the humidity is 110%; and the A/C is moaning from so much overtime. Your make-up slides off your face between the house and car. Ohhh, some relief?! Where?! Our savvy Texan clients head south to Chile. To wine, dine, hunt (ok, that’s for doves in Cordoba, Argentina), and ski. Want to know what the winter of Chile’s Central Valley feels like? Highs in the mid-60s with sunshine most days. A little rain which dusts the Andes with snow (heads up, big powder for all you skiers) and everything is green and lush. At night, you’ll need a warm jacket. The temperature can dip into the 30s/40s but hell, it beats that wicked heat any day and A/C-assisted living.

Scenario Dos: You live in St. Paul, Minnesota or anywhere in the snow belt, which with global warming these days seems to be from Atlanta north. Snow for Thanksgiving, a blizzard at X-mas, snowed in for President’s day. Now again in March to foil the Easter Egg hunt! Seriously, WTF?! When will this winter weather spanking be over? While you’re covered and snowblowing yourself out from 2 feet of snow and ice, AGAIN, guess what, it’s our summer. Sun, sun, and more sun, freakishly perfect temperatures hover in 80s-90s with about 12% humidity. Nights around 55F to sleep all cuddly with a blanket. Do I need to further explain why this is great time to visit Chile?

Reverse seasons make Chile a natural destination any time of the year. Plus, unlike Australia and Europe, we’re on Eastern Standard Time 6 months per year (+2 in summer). That means a long flight but NO, I repeat, NO jet lag.

So let’s review why Chile is a year-round destination:

1. Amazing geography from the towering Andes Mountains to California-esque rolling hills, and the wild, turquoise Pacific Ocean.
2. Simple, intense Mediterrean-style cuisine made from the most primo ingredients: ethereal produce and seafood to sublime goat cheese
3. Lots of vino-all kinds: red, white, bubbly
4. Friendly natives and a vibrant culture that feels distinctly European and Latin at the same time
5. Stability, infrastructure, and a peaceful, developed country where the US dollar actually still has weight
6. That yummy Mediterranean climate: ski, wine, dine, hike, bike, walk, dive in, love it any time of the year
7. Tax treaty on all hotels for foreigners (that’s right, you don’t have to pay the 19% VAT tax on any hotel stay, not the case in neighboring Argentina)

So if you love Italy, Spain gets you jazzed, have been all over South Africa, and already done Greece 20-odd times, seriously consider coming down to these latitudes. Besides all the above-mentioned reasons, there is something truly epic, inspirational and downright gorgeous about this setting on earth. Come experience it for yourself. The place, along with the Mediterranean climate, seduced me nearly 10 years ago. The rest is historia.

For food, wine, cultural, and active travel to Chile,  contact the Liz Caskey Culinary & Wine Experiences office directly at info@lizcaskey.com or 904 687 0340 (US Direct). We’ll hook you up and turn you onto the best in this slice of paradise.