Blog Expat Interview

I was recently interviewed by blogexpat.com for their Expat Interviews series. You can check out the interview here. It may be a minor acknowledgment but it's nice to know people are reading my blog!

More soon!

Recipes: Citrusy Carnitas

Having lived in both California and Texas, my taste buds have an acute hankering for Mexican food more often than not. This is a problem now that I'm living in Brisbane, where Mexican food is just now trending in a big way and will no doubt take a while before it's done really well. This means I cook a lot of it at home, which is actually a wonderful excuse to play around with my favourite Mexican dishes.

One of them is carnitas, which means "little meats" in Spanish, and is typically made by braising a well-marbled cut of pork for a few hours. Pork shoulder works for me. I usually slow cook chunks of it in a spicy salsa bath, but I decided to try something different this time, which, funnily enough, is probably the more common way of making them.

Freshly squeezed orange and lime juice combined with a few other ingredients is all you need to make succulent, flavourful carnitas—as long as you don't break the cardinal rule by trimming the fat. That would be a huge mistake as we finish braising the pork in its own fatty goodness. If there isn't enough, the pork won't be as tender. (Traditional carnitas call for lard, but I'm all for the no added fat option.)

Carnitas

1 kilogram pork shoulder

3 limes

2 oranges

5 garlic cloves, crushed with the side of a knife then minced

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon chili flakes

1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

water, as needed

1. Cut the shoulder into chunks and place in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot.

2. Squeeze the juice from the oranges and limes and pour over the pork.

3. Stir in the garlic, chili flakes, salt and cumin.

4. Add water until the pork is just covered.

5. Bring to a boil before dropping the heat to low and simmering for two hours. If the liquid looks like it's going to evaporate before the two hours are up, add a little more water. 

6. After two hours turn the heat up to medium high and cook another 45 minutes, stirring and turning the meat occasionally until all the liquid has evaporated and the pork is left sizzling in the rendered fat. When the pieces have browned the carnitas are done. Shred the pork or cut into smaller pieces. 

I usually serve carnitas with black beans, warmed tortillas, and homemade salsa and guacamole. This time though a healthy green bean salad with a Mexican twist (from the food blog Simply Recipes) was added to the spread.   

If you don't have any tortillas, don't worry. In fact, you don't even need to use them if you do. I actually preferred the carnitas without them this time, as a tortilla would have slightly concealed the beautiful flavour and texture of the meat. 

Spoon on a little salsa to taste and dig in!

State of Origin: My Renewed Appreciation For The Irrationality of Sports

Maybe it's because we lived in the United States for the majority of our relationship so far. Or maybe it's because he studied international relations and, ahem, literature at university. Or perhaps it's because he doesn't, at first glance, appear to be any sort of patriot. But last night, for the first time, I discovered (or perhaps it's that I remembered?) my fiance is in fact a full-blooded Queensland boy.

Yes, I'm talking about the way he cheered for the third, deciding game of State of Origin. (For those of you not from Australia, State of Origin is a series of three Rugby League games that have occurred every year since 1980 between two state teams, Queensland [the Maroons] and New South Wales [the Blues]; it's become one of the most popular sporting events in the country.)

 I, for one, have always enjoyed the trio of matches. I still remember how Billy Slater's excellent performance in 2004 won him the title of Man of the Match. But despite the enjoyment I get from watching the Origin games, I've never been a vocal spectator. I even, god forbid, multitask while watching.

Peter, however, proved last night to be an ardently vocal observer.

Clapping, swearing and a slew of "come ons!!!!" (yes those extra exclamation points are necessary) was the order of the evening. He sprung out of his seat and, after the first try was scored by Queensland, jumped up and down before running to the fridge to grab a beer — a Heineken, by they way, which I suppose illustrates where his loyalty ends.

At first I was startled. I'm not used to seeing him scream at the television, with the exception of a Federer tennis match. His second outburst I just stared, not sure what to think. By the third I was genuinely intrigued and positively entertained. There's something refreshing about seeing this unfalteringly rational man get so heated up over a game.

I cannot stress enough the importance of this year's Origin series: Star Queensland player Billy Slater was out with an injury and League legend Darren Lockyer (we often have breakfast at separate tables together in Paddington) retired at the end of last year. But more than that, New South Wales hadn't won a series since 2005.

The game ended wickedly close. Both teams were tied up in the 71st minute with 20 points each, causing Peter to appear genuinely terrified. But when Queensland kicked a one-point field goal in the 75th minute it was all over. Queensland won it's seventh consecutive series 21-20.

Source: AAP

In the end, I was glad to see my soon-to-be husband get electrified over his home team. He can cheer and get angry and completely irrational, and that's okay. (Take, for example, the comment he made when I expressed concern for a player who took a fall: "Don't feel sorry for him, he's New South Wales.") Because despite his unbridled agression for a man he's never met, I know where his emotional irrationality ends. Win or lose, he'll just go to bed and be over it by the time his head hits his pillow.

Still though, I'm happy Queensland won for him.

Snapshots: A Weekend With Mr. Flynn

Today was one of those perfect winter days in Brisbane. The sky was clear, the temperature was warm and the light that covered the green hills of Paddington was simply magic. It was the type of day that implores you to go outside.

And today we had the perfect reason to do just that.

Drenched in Riesling: A Journey Through Australia's Clare Valley Part II

Mr Mick's Wine & Restaurant in Clare. I love the beautiful brick building, draped in autumn colours.

In case you missed Part I click here to catch up! After a goodnight's sleep we cooked up some breakfast using fresh ingredients provided by the lodge, making sure to adequately line our stomachs in preparation for a day of wine tasting. The luminous yellow light that swept through our room helped wake us up—that and a strong cup of coffee. 

A knock on the door at 11:30 and we were off in a chauffeured car to the first winery of the day. For $40 bucks an hour I hired a car driven by a refreshingly earthy woman who would take us where ever we wanted to go throughout the day. I certainly recommend doing this for a few hours should you ever find yourself in Clare.

First stop was Jim Barry, one of the more well-known wineries in Clare.

We met Ben, a 20-something wine buff, at the cellar door who started us off on our tasting. We tasted a couple of rieslings, including Lavender Hill, which I did not like. It's Jim Barry's sweet take on riesling, and its syrup-like texture just doesn't do it for me personally. My favourite was The Florita, the 2008 vintage, which is named after the seventy-five acre block of the same name. Aged a few years already, The Florita is a beautiful example of an Australian dry riesling. We bought half a case and plan to age most of them quite a few more years to further bring out the toasty flavour I adore. We also purchased a bottle of the The McRae Wood 1999 vintage, a full-bodied shiraz with notes of blueberry and menthol. Peter and I will probably open it soon.

View from the tasting room out to Jim Barry's Lodge Hill vineyard

After Jim Barry we went to Knappstein, another popular winery in the Clare. It's also a micro-brewery. In fact, Knappstein's Bavarian-style lager is one of my favourite beers.

The original brewery, called Clare Brewery, started up in 1878, the same time the building that houses the tasting room was erected. It wasn't until the 1960s that Knappstein began producing wines.

My favourite part of this tasting was when I was introduced to sparkling riesling. With the Clare Valley's prolific production of riesling it would have been silly not to experiment with making it bubbly. As a lover of sparkling styles and of riesling, I enjoyed it immensely. Little did I know I would be meeting more drops of the stuff along the wine trail.

Other standouts were the 2010 Ackland Watervale Riesling, with its grapes coming from a single, circa 1969, vineyard, and the 2011 Rosé made with sangiovese and cabernet sauvignon.

We finished up at Knappstein and drove just under 15 kilometers south, where we arrived in Polish Hill, a sub-region of the Clare Valley. The grapes in Clare are grown either here or in another sub-region called Watervale. 

We had made it to our third winery, Pikes. Fortunately for us, this was one of our favourite cellar door experiences during our stay. Unfortunately for you this means I was so enjoying chatting with the knowledgeable and friendly cellar door oenophile that I failed to snap any photos. Ugh.

Pikes Wines is as old as me (I'll leave it up to you to find out how many years that is) and produces a number of varietals that are rare in the Clare Valley, including viognier and savignin. The latter was caught up in a case of mistaken identity back in 2009 when, after DNA testing, Pikes and a number of other Australian wine makers discovered that what they thought were albarino grapes planted in their vineyards—a grape varietal from northwest Spain—were actually savignin grapes, from eastern France. Pikes laughed it off and slapped a fitting name on the bottles: 'Impostores' Savignan. 

After bidding farewell to our cellar door friend, we jumped back in the car and headed to Skillogalee for a late lunch. The timing couldn't have been more perfect given the amount of wine I had tasted by this point, and, despite pouring most of the wine into buckets (even the ones I liked), I was feeling a pleasant wine buzz which was likely to evolve into something else had I failed to get some sustenance in me. 

Any visit to Clare Valley has to include a meal at Skillogalee winery and restaurant. The food is delicious and the surroundings are simply breathtaking. Be sure to reserve a seat outside, preferably under the enormous olive tree.

Peter looking perfectly content

Under the olive tree

Before settling on what to eat we tasted a selection of Skillogallee wines with the intention of pairing our food with something we like.

Another sparkling riesling on the right

After deciding on a gewürztraminer, something I never usually order but found this one to be quite dry and nicely complex, we sat back down at our table to take in the view and order. The setting is so picturesque here I couldn't help but take a whole heap of photos.  

Love the old building

After lunch we got back down to business with one last winery, Kilikanoon. Driving between wineries was an experience in itself, with an impressive collection of native plants and trees passing us out the window.

Kilikanoon, a heavily awarded winery, produces more reds than whites.  Most of its 300 hectares of vineyards are in the Clare Valley, the rest are spread out around the Barossa and Adelaide regions. The 2011 Mort's Block Watervale Riesling was one of the best rieslings I had tasted all day. Again, it would do well cellaring for a few years, if not longer, but it was smooth, citrusy and extremely crisp—perfect with a slice of salty gruyere on a warm summer day. As for the red wines, I enjoyed the 2009 Prodigal Grenache, the 2008 'Medley' of grenache, shiraz and mourvedre and the 2009 Block's Road Cabernet Sauvignon, all of which, I was told, would do well with a good decant or more years in the bottle. 

After our last taste of the day, a luscious dessert wine made from (yep, you guessed it) riesling, we ended the day back at the lodge with a selection of cheeses, cured meats and salads. (Although I probably should have gone for a jog instead.)

Sevenhill Cellars

We checked out of Brice Hill Lodge the following morning and drove back down to Adelaide, but not without stopping at a couple more wineries along the way. One of them was Sevenhill Cellars, the oldest winery in Clare Valley. The vineyard was established by Jesuits in 1851 to produce sacramental wine, which continues today.  It's the last remaining Jesuit-owned winery in Australia. The grounds, which are home to the winery, museum and church, are beautifully maintained.

Tasting room entrance

After Sevenhill we made one more stop before heading out of town. We were feeling quite peckish and decided to grab a bite at The Little Red Grape, a cafe and boutique a number of people in the Clare Valley had recommended. We shared a delicious plate of local foods including olives, kangaroo, quail, sliced apple and sourdough. Everything was delicious and made for a perfect end to our holiday in the wine country.

Would I return? Absolutely. The Clare Valley wine region is refreshingly unpretentious and genuinely welcoming. And hey, there aren't many pubs you walk into and find a table of scruffy blokes sharing a couple bottles of a nice red. 

Drenched in Riesling: A Journey Through Australia's Clare Valley

If you live in America you can be forgiven for thinking Yellow Tail is the quintessential Australian wine. Its range and eight dollar price tag has made it a popular choice for budget-conscious consumers across the country. But, just like its beer counterpart, Fosters, Yellow Tail is rarely, if ever, seen on menus around Australia (I've never actually seen it on one myself), nor is it stocked at every wine store, brought to dinner parties, or spotted on wine racks in the home. Put simply, it's an export wine. And while it may be welcomed by American wine drinkers chasing a cheap but cheerful drop, commercial, cut-rate wines like Yellow Tail and Jacob's Creek have caused the perception of quality Australian wine overseas to take a beating in recent years.

But if you care to seek out Aussie wines that are not mass-produced (which, granted, are often difficult to find in the U.S. these days), you will certainly discover countless winemakers who produce superlative wines. You'll also find familiar varietals created in different styles.  

One of these is riesling. Australia produces delicious dry rieslings, most notably in South Australia's Clare Valley. For a long time I stayed away from riesling, thinking they always came sweet. But just like Alsace in France, Clare Valley is known for making more acid-driven rieslings. 

Image credit: worldnomads.com

Since Peter is a huge fan of the German grape (and the one who encouraged me to taste its refreshing version), we decided to head down to South Australia for a wander through the Clare Valley countryside, one of Australia's oldest wine regions. The first vineyards were planted here in the 1840s. Clare is two hours north of Adelaide, the capital of South Australia. The Barossa Valley, one of Australia's most well-known wine regions, is near by, yet the styles of shiraz and cabernet differ greatly between the two. 

We flew out of Brisbane at 6:20 a.m. and arrived in Adelaide a couple hours later on what turned out to be a perfect autumn day. After hiring a car we were on our way. Classical music serenaded us through the open, panoramic landscape while I watched colourful birds chase each other past eucalyptus trees, gleefully soaring over red dirt. We reached Auburn, the start of the Clare Valley, in an hour and a half. 

The Clare Valley actually encompasses a number of valleys with ranges that run north to south. The valleys offer various soils—from red topsoil and limestone, to broken slate and sandy loams—where riesling grows next to shiraz and cabernet. With a little over 40 wineries, the wine trail here is relatively small. And it's certainly not the most touristy spot, which was a plus for us. We only encountered a couple of out-of-towners during our three day visit. 

Our first stop was Mount Horrocks. The cellar door and cafe is located inside Auburn's old train station, so it comes with a side of history. Winemaker Stephanie Toole only produces about 4500 cases a year from her estate grown, handpicked grapes, which have been met with high acclaim from critics. The standouts for me were the 2011 Riesling, tangy with balanced acidity and grown in Clare's Watervale Valley; and the 2011 Cordon Cut Riesling, a sweet, dessert style wine, with the sweetness coming from its fruit not sugar. 'Cordon cut' is a winemaking technique where the vines are cut and the grapes are left hanging for a few days prior to harvesting. A newspaper clipping hanging on the wall inside told me Mount Horrock's Cordon Cut 2005 vintage was served to Queen Elizabeth II on her 80th birthday. (An endorsement like that has the potential to sway one's opinion—in either direction—about many things, but luckily for me I tried it before reading and truly believe it to be delicious.)

After lunch at Mount Horrocks we made our way to Brice Hill Country Lodge, a four room estate nestled among vineyards between Seven Hill and Clare. Each room is self-contained with a kitchen and massive spa bath. (Having lived in a house with no bathtub the last eight months, I was in heaven!)

Brice Hill Country Lodge

Our view from Brice Hill

View of Brice Hill from the road

It is such a gorgeous setting and will become even more beautiful come winter when everything turns greener. 

Our room came with a complimentary bottle of Knappstein shiraz (meh) and a small decanter of port, which, we discovered later that evening, had unfortunately oxidized. But never mind, the room was lovely and the company, perfect.

After a quick rest we went to Adelina wines, the part of our trip I was most excited about. Adelina is a teeny tiny winery located just a kilometre from Brice Hill. Although the name Adelina has only been around since 2000, its vineyard was planted in 1910. It's small size means no cellar door, which is why I made a point to ring them beforehand to see if we could pop by to have a chat and take a look around.Winemaker Colin McBryde was more than happy to have us.

We were met by Katie, an American from Southern California he'd just hired. She climbed down from the crushing machine to greet us. Seconds later we were shaking Colin's hand as he welcomed us into Adelina's winemaking facility and took us through all things Adelina. His full sleeve tattoos gave away that he wasn't your average winemaker. Drops of bright purple grape juice painted part of his shaved head, which no doubt had something to do with the huge pool of the stuff on the floor. Gregarious and passionate, Colin is the type of person who can talk about wine for hours without ever being at a loss for words. He certainly chose the right profession. He and his wife, Jennie Gardner (whose family owns the winery) have Ph.Ds in oenology. Just the three of them run the operation here, although, since the birth of her daughter, Jennie's involvement has become less and less, which is why Katie came on board. I was amazed to learn the whole winemaking process happened right here, in this little shed, by two people. I'd never been to a winery this small. But it's miniature size means there's a high level of quality control. Plus, it allows Colin's creativity to come out and play.

Adelina only produce around 200 cases of shiraz, 50 to 100 cases of grenache, and an even smaller amount of cabernet sauvignon. Colin's father-in-law, Will Gardner, bought the vineyard in the 1980s, during what he says was a depressed period for the region. At the time, the realtors didn't even advertise the old vineyard because they thought it wasn't a selling point. (Despite the fact the property shared the same soil with one of the oldest and most renowned wineries in the entire region.) So Will bought the property and the vineyard for a song and began cultivating the grapes on its red loam on a base of limestone and slate. Adelina's name is both a nod to Adelaide and the Gardner's desire to incorporate a feminine element into the label and the wines themselves. 

We tasted the 2010 shiraz first, the wine I had read about and the reason we came. Now I don't fancy myself a wine connoisseur (more an enthusiastic novice and consumer) but right away I could taste the difference between shiraz from the Clare and most other regions in Australia. And I liked it. The style is much lighter to medium bodied, and isn't syrupy or reminiscent of raisins, if that makes sense. It's a bright drop, with a nice balance of fruit and acidity and has good structure, which will certainly improve over time. Colin says it would pay to decant it for a day or so if drinking now, but adds he'd be comfortable cellaring it for ten years.

Adelina's vines

We did a vertical tasting of nebbiolo, a northern Italian varietal I have rarely tried. It was interesting to feel as the tannins went from the front of the palette all the way to the back. The eucalyptus trees on the property (see above) left their mark on the wines, with notes of mint and menthol in every sip. I fell in love with nebbiolo. We then tasted two wines from 2011 out of the barrel. Both were shiraz but one was fermented with indigenous (or wild) yeast, the other with inoculated yeast. Peter and I preferred the wild yeast; the wine was softer and more complex. 

One of the non-wine highlights of our visit was when Colin asked what we were doing when we lived in Houston and I told him how I worked as a reporter in public radio. 

"Wait Wait Don't Tell Me is my favourite program!" he said enthusiastically.

"I listen to it every single week," he added.

I, of course, was bubbling over with excitement. In my six years of living in Australia, this was the first person I had ever met who had even heard of it, not to mention was an avid fan. We talked about our favourite panelists, and the 'lightening fill in the blank' round. Colin and his winery scored a million points right then and there.  

We left Adelina and made our way back to Brice Hill. Later that evening, when we were beginning to feel peckish, we discovered the Clare Valley was lacking something pretty important for tourists: restaurants! To be fair, there are a number of places to eat during the day, but come night time, you're basically stuck. There's the Seven Hill pub, Artisan's Table (closed a number of nights though), The Last Word Inn, and maybe a couple more I don't know about. It was a bit of a let down, but we ended up going for pizza at the Last Word Inn. It was easy since it was across the street from our hotel. The view (above) made me forget about the less than superb food; it was too gorgeous an evening to be anything but happy. 

Stay tuned for part two of our journey through Clare Valley!