SpiceLines

150 year old bubbly, anyone? A Finnish diver recently discovered
a cache of French champagne and spices in a Baltic shipwreck.
Photo: Augusto Mendes, Government of the Aland Islands

You might want to open that bottle of Veuve Cliquot chilling in the back of the fridge before reading this. And then sprinkle a little freshly ground black pepper over your smoked salmon on toast….

Christopher Ekstrom, a diver on the Finnish island of Marienham, discovered last summer a cache of 173 bottles of Champagne while exploring the wreck of a two-masted wooden schooner submerged in 160 feet of water in the Baltic Sea for roughly a century and a half.

In “Buried Treasure in Baltic Brings Back Vintage Taste,” (The New York Times, Wednesday, December 15, 2010, p. A11), John Tagliabue writes that the diver brought one bottle to the surface and opened it, thinking he’d be tasting brine. Instead, he saw bubbles rising in clear liquid. “’This is not sea water,’” he said.

The Champagne, which has been examined by experts, consists of bottles from Juglar, “a premium French Champagne” that was renamed Jacquesson after 1830 and Vueve Cliquot. The underside of the cork from one of four opened bottles bears Veuve Cliquot’s signature “star and anchor”—the star representing “a comet that crossed the skies of Champagne in 1811 and supposedly caused fabulous vintages.”

But that wasn’t all Ekstrom discovered. Along with crates of “long withered” grapes, rugs, coffee beans and some beer, the cargo also revealed a stash of black and white peppercorns and coriander seed.

Chefs behaving badly: In Barneys' holiday windows, is it a fantasy feast or food fight? Mario's head is on a platter, Daniel Boulud overturns the table, Bobby Flay squirts ketchup.

“…I did everything with that great mad joy you get when you return to New York City.” Jack Kerouac, Lonesome Traveler.

Friday night, after stepping into a swirl of tiny snowflakes outside La Boite a Epice, I hailed a cab and we headed downtown.

As we stalled in the 23rd Street gridlock, the driver apologized for the traffic. “It’s not your fault,” I murmured automatically.

“It’s the tourists,” she exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel with one hand. “Every Christmas they pour into New York. They want to see the store windows and they want to go shopping. And you know what? They could stay home in their own little towns and get the same stuff for less money.”

Ahem.

Bunuelos, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, are traditionally served in Mexico on Christmas Eve. These bunuelos were made in snowflake molds, but they can also be rolled out like very thin tortillas and fried until they turn golden brown.

“Veo mi madre con la cara muy risuena…” [“ I see my mother, her face wreathed in smiles….”]

One morning a few weeks ago, Aurora brought me an early Christmas present of bunuelos.

You know, bunuelos, those delicious fried--well what shall I call them?--They’re not really fritters, but paper thin disks of dough, fried in lard (or sadly, these days, in Crisco), until they are light and crisp, so fragile that they will shatter if you put any pressure at all on them.

While I was devouring my bunuelos, she told me this story of her mother, Maria Ynez Ramirez, and of Christmas Eve in their pueblito in Mexico:

“Every year before Christmas, my mother would make big baskets of bunuelos. They’re like very thin, light tortillas fried in lard until they puff up and become crisp. You can sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar while they’re warm, or serve them plain with miel or syrup made of piloncillo and water with cinnamon, vanilla and anise for flavor.

“My mother would make hundreds of bunuelos, and tamales too. (We always had a pig—the meat was for the tamales and the lard for the bunuelos.) She would roll out each little ball of dough in a thin circle, and give it to me. I had a clean dishtowel over my knees and I’d pat the dough to make it even thinner. She’d fry each bunuelo in manteca or lard until it turned golden brown. Then she’d lift it with forks into a basket to cool. They were very fragile and would crumble easily so we had to be careful.

“On the night of December 24th, the people in our pueblito would walk from house to house to welcome El Nino. The procession would end at our casa and my mother would invite everyone, maybe a hundred people, to come inside. Each person would receive two bunuelos with miel, three tamales and a cup of atole blanco, a drink made of ground dried corn which she made in a huge copper olla. She had to get montones y montones [huge mountains] of jarritos to serve the atole and earthenware plates for the food. For the children there were baskets of toys and candy, and for the grownups, bags with a piece of sugar cane, an orange, an apple and some peanuts.

“We were never allowed to eat meat before midnight. After the tamales and the bunuelos, we’d hurry to church for the last mass.

“I see my mother, her face wreathed in smiles.“

Like Maria Ynez, cooks the world over are never happier than when feeding the ones we love. To our friends and to those we’ve touched, however fleetingly, in all parts of the globe, our family wishes you a joyous season…

Feliz Navidad,,,.Joyeux Noel….Hyvaa Joulua…Krismas Ki Subhkamna…Selamat Hari Natal….Nollaig Shona Dhuit…Buon Natale….Idah Saidan Wasanah Jadidah…Feliz Natal….S Rojdesvom Khristovym….God Jul….Mutlu Noeller….Merry Christmas!

And to all, peace and goodwill for 2011.

Did you have a white Christmas? We didn’t, at least not on the day.

But when I awakened the next morning, I thought I was dreaming. Snow had fallen stealthily all night, and at dawn, snowflakes, fat and heavy, were still drifting through the air…

Transforming the familiar into the unfamiliar.

I found myself wandering deeper and deeper into this wintry white wonderland.

Come along and see the magic….

Fresh pomegranate juice, sweet and tart, frothy with bright pink foam, is delicious when chilled in the snow. It's even better, of course, with a bit of bubbly.

I’m in love with fresh pomegranate juice.

Its flavor is sweetly acidic, with a trace of bitterness. A little syrupy, it has just enough body to let you know that you’re drinking the real thing. And with its extravagantly crimson hue and all that pink froth, it’s even beautiful to look at.

Puts the bottled stuff to shame.

Lately, I’ve been blissing out on this gorgeous elixir, especially since it's been snowing...