Letters to a Young Palate

A Cellargal Wine Pairing

Inspired by Letters to a Young Poet

A Collection of Letters Written by the Poet Rainer Maria Rilke

to Franz Kappus, 1903-1908



http://www.amazon.com/Letters-Young-Rainer-Maria-Rilke/dp/0393310396

This lineup for this tasting is inspired by the concepts of origin and context - the poet's Austrian-Hungarian origin, the traveling origin of the letters, and the changing context of the correspondants.  As we taste these wines and reflect on Rilke's advice to young Kappus, mainly, to trust his inner judgement and ignore criticism, we can think about how this can be applied to wine appreciation at the personal level and the development of one's own palate.
Who cares what the critics/wine snobs/self-professed experts say:
TRUST YOUR PALATE

Latitude 50 N Sekt Trocken Rosé (Germany)

Portugeiser, Dornfelder and Pinot Noir
The Fourth LetterWritten in Worpswede, Germany on 16 July, 1903

2009 Kalmuck (Gritsch) Grüner Veltliner (Austria)
In honor of our poet.

2009 Domaine Stephane Magnien Bourgogne Passetoutgrains "Cuvée Densité"  (France)
Gamay, Pinot Noir
The First LetterWritten in Paris, France on 17 February 1903
The Tenth LetterWritten in Paris, France on 26 December, 1908

Antano Milziade Umbria Rosso IGT  (Italy)

50% Sangiovese, 50% Sagrantino
The Second LetterWritten in Viareggio, Italy on 5 April, 1903
 The Third LetterWritten in Viareggio, Italy on 23 April, 1903
The Fifth LetterWritten in Rome, Italy on 29 October, 1903
The Sixth LetterWritten in Rome, Italy on 23 December, 1903
The Seventh LetterWritten in Rome, Italy on 14 May, 1904

**
"Read as little as possible of literary criticism. Such things are either partisan opinions, which have become petrified and meaningless, hardened and empty of life, or else they are clever word-games, in which one view wins, and tomorrow the opposite view. Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them. Always trust yourself and your own feeling, as opposed to argumentation, discussions, or introductions of that sort; if it turns out that you are wrong, then the natural growth of your inner life will eventually guide you to other insights. Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating."
(from the Third Letter)
 
**

Background:
Letters to a Young Poet is a compilation of letters by Rainer Maria Rilke. It consists of 10 letters written to a young man (Franz Kappus) considering entering the German military. Rilke was born in Prague, capital of Bohemia (then part of Austria-Hungary; now the Czech Republic). A Bohemian–Austrian poet, he is considered one of the most significant poets in the German language. His haunting images focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude, and profound anxiety: themes that tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the Modernist poets.
The letters were originally written to Kappus, a 19-year-old student at the Military Academy of Vienna, of which Rilke was an alumnus. Discouraged by the prospect of military life, Kappus began to send his poetry to the 27-year-old Rilke, seeking both literary criticism and career advice. Their correspondence lasted from 1902 to 1908. In 1929, three years after Rilke's death, Kappus assembled and published the ten letters.
(source: Wikipedia)

Rules of Thumb: Go with the Nebbiolo



2006 Angelo Germano Langhe Nebbiolo
Piemonte, Italy



Chef Hena (my husband and soul mate, Derek) loves to cook.  Like REALLY loves it.  While I love to cook in theory, I actually don't like it that much in reality, because I don't like to do things like finely chop, strain with cheese cloth, use multiple bowls at the same time, and, well, make a mess in the kitchen.  Derek, on the other hand, not only enjoys these tasks, but will go so far as to say that they are relaxing for him.

I encourage this.

When D gets really inspired, he'll usually want to take on something strong-flavored and incredibly labor-intensive (or at least, that requires a lot of time and care) like braised short ribs with celery root mashed potatoes (seriously, based on looks alone, I'd never go near a celery root), coque au vin, or, as in the case of last night, braised lamb with squash-infused risotto and brussel sprouts sauteed in bacon, in honor of Twelfth Night.

Call me old school, but the slow-cooked, reduced, gamey and/or strong-flavored dishes of the old world, the kind that require the stoppage of time and a lot of love, are the soul mates to the great wines of the world.  Like man and woman, wine and food are meant to go together but often mismatched.  We are just as easily distracted by the emotions wine can evoke in us - the critic's scores, the look of the bottle, the "buzz," our own nostalgia - when trying to make a wine pairing decision as we can be by the emotions life evokes in us that lead us to "fall" for the wrong guy, buy the cute but wrong shoes, suffer through the impressive but depressing job, and we mess up.  I know - for every ten wine pairing efforts, I might get one "aha" moment.  It doesn't happen as often as one would think.

Luckily, while the human race is doomed to continue to get it wrong in love and life, we are less doomed when it comes to food and wine pairing if we remember to choose Nebbiolo.  From Italy. Specifically, Piedmont in Northern Italy. When it really matters - when D is slow-cooking and I can smell the lamb and rosemary and roasted peppercorns from across the street, I almost always do. 

And Nebbiolo, from the humble wines of the Langhe to the regal Barolo, has never let me down. It may not always hit out of the park, but it always comes to play. And that's a pretty good record, all things considered.