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I am a devoted fan of Port, especially the vintage type. There is something undeniably passion-provoking about the combination of power, sweetness and elegance of a 20-plus year-old bottling. Earlier this year, I was lucky enough to participate in a tasting of VPs from throughout the 20th century, including the fabulous trio of 1928, ‘34 and ‘35.

So, when my travels brought me, this past summer, to the breathtaking Douro valley, with its picturesque quintas (vineyards/farms) climbing the incredibly steep slopes, I was expecting to be blown away by my favourite fortified. Yes, there were truly some impressive Ports to be had, but to my surprise, the wines that intrigued me the most were the Douro DOC dry reds.

Both Port and Douro wines are made from the same grapes. Over 100 are authorized. But after harvest, vinification diverges. Fermentation for Port wine generally transpires in a lagare — a low, granite (occasionally stainless steel) open-top trough. Grapes are either crushed underfoot or via mechanical paddles, which emulate the gentle treading of the tootsies. Port wines have only two to three days to acquire both colour and flavour via a fast and furious fermentation, before being hit with the aguardente (neutral brandy). The brandy eradicates the yeast, leaving natural sweetness and raising the alcohol level to 20 per cent. Aging then transpires in older barrels. Douro reds wines follow standard red winemaking protocols — 8-to 12-day fermentations to dryness in stainless steel tank or lagare, regular macerations, and then aging in new barrels.

Do you feel sad every time you walk into your kitchen? You’ve probably been thinking about it for a while. Whether you inherited a gourmet kitchen from the owners before you or had the whole thing reworked five short years ago, it doesn’t mean you are happy. In fact, if you ask most people, they’ll probably say they were thinking about renovating, but — and this is a big but — it seems like too much work.

Now, there is some truth to the idea that renovating your kitchen (like any other part of your house) is a daunting task best left to an expert. Not many people will argue with me there.

You can easily Google “kitchen design” and find a myriad of companies ready to drop everything to gut your home. Then there are the DIY havens, like Home Depot, Lowes and Reno Depot — not to mention kitchen mecca, Ikea — who have staff on hand to help you map out your dream kitchen. But you need to know what you want (appliances, colour schemes, and so on) before going in. Arriving with a few important design concepts in mind will help drum up some good ideas while drowning the bad (useless and expensive) ones.

As you can guess, waking up in the heart of Sicily is one word: delightful. But visiting this imposing and stunningly beautiful island in March is not quite the same as doing so in high summer. This part of the Mediterranean can be quite cool, rainy and windy at this time of year, as the first few days bore out. The country — and one quickly begins to think of Sicily as a land unto itself — also boasts widely different climatic conditions, from very high elevations in wild mountain ranges to fertile plains and valleys and beautiful beaches on many outlying islands.

As a richly fertile island at the centre of the sea lanes of the Mediterranean, Sicily has, over thousands of years, been a prime target for numerous invaders. Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Spanish and the French have all put their stamp on the island, which is a treasure trove of historical and archaeological remains. This rich tapestry has added enormous layers of complexity, not to mention more recent phenomena such as the pervasive influence of the Mafia. Sicily’s turbulent past certainly presents obstacles to working toward common goals. Producers who make up Assovini Sicilia, a non-profit organization dedicated to the marketing and sustainable development of Sicilian wine culture, deserve a great deal of credit for working together effectively to promote the island’s wine as a whole. This is no small achievement in a place where people, shaped by their frequently wild landscape and tempestuous history, can be fiercely passionate and individualistic. The growing success of Sicilian wines today is, in part, a triumph over the burdens of the historical past.
My focus was on Sicily’s new-wave wines, especially those made from indigenous and often very ancient grape varietals. To give some perspective, Sicilian viticulture is about the same size as Australia’s, and roughly the same as Tuscany and Piedmont combined. At one time it was even larger, but with the spotlight now on quality, lesser quality bulk wines are going out of production. The emergence of Sicily as a modern wine culture is very recent. This revolution really gathered steam around the 1980s, led by a core group of inspired winemakers. Among them was a dynamic but as yet little-known operation run by the Planeta family.

The following is pretty much what came straight off my digital recorder with some minimal tweaking. Conversations don’t typically play out like polished up print interviews, so you’ll find some rough bits as far as continuity goes, some repetition and perhaps some half-formed questions and answers (not to mention a few typos). However, if you’re interested in reading the entire two-hour interview, complete with what was ultimately left on the editing room floor, I offer you this. Cheers. – Tod Stewart, Contributing Editor (An edited version appears in Tidings Magazine December 2011 issue available now at magazine stands and here.)

Tidings: So I have to ask you about the chickens; I mean, you tour with three massive rotisseries…

Geddy Lee: Not anymore. I’ve retired the chickens; I’ve moved on.

Tidings: What are we into now?

Lee: I’m into sausages right now. I’ve got some steampunk sausage manufacturing going on. It’s pretty fun.

“Location, location, location” is what my mother, a former real estate agent, drilled into my head when I was looking to buy my first house. I took her advice. In an unkempt neighbourhood, Toronto’s two best Italian sandwich shops, California Sandwiches and San Francesco Sandwiches, face off against each other at a distance of about 100 paces. I bought my new home because it is precisely equidistant between these restaurants and their veal. There are no parks, few trees and paved lawns, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the most valuable intersection in the city.

I have many vices, but the only one that actually shames me is my adoration of fast food. Veal sandwiches, cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets and smoked meat: I will eat them all. Every consideration of ethical eating or longevity vaporizes in the face of extra bacon for 99 cents. Luckily, there is one compunction that keeps me from ingesting lethal quantities of saturated fats: I must drink wine with my fast food. Quite simply, I find the combination too delicious to miss. Unfortunately, this is a match that you won’t read about in most of the literature on food-wine pairings. No one tells you how to pair a bottle with a poutine. Until now.

Grabbing a cheap bottle of Yellow Tail Chardonnay ($10.95) or Fuzion Shiraz Malbec ($7.75) may seem like a natural choice when dining on wax paper, but in fact such wines are ill suited to the cuisine. Fortunately, the key to matching wine with fast food is simple, and it’s always the same, no matter what grubbery you’re about to consume. That’s because all junk food depends on three essential ingredients: salt, grease and fat.

Tasting Megalomaniac wines with owner John Howard recently at Chef Mark Piccone’s Culinary Studio in Niagara was the best. These boys really know how to amuse a bouche. The chef’s smoked salmon appetizer was the edible equivalent of what I imagine George Clooney kissing my nape would feel like.

Be it food or wine, I taste therefore I am.

Over the years, people have asked me what it’s like to be a wine critic.

“It’s not work really, is it? I mean, how can you call spending a morning or afternoon tasting wine ‘work’?”

Well, let me tell you. It’s not easy to taste upwards of 100 wines. I spit, but it’s still a bit of a go.

“One hundred wines?”

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