Steven Spurrier receives most of the accolades, but Patricia Gallagher and Jon Winroth Broneer deserve a lot of the credit as well. I’m referring to The Judgement of Paris, which took place in Paris in 1976. Wines from California bested French wines, according to some discerning Gallic palates. The world of wine changed forever on that day.
To mark the 50th anniverary of the tasting heard ’round the world I’m taking a look at bottles from some of the wineries involved in it. First up, the wines that finished first in their categories: Chateau Montelena (chardonnay) and Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars (cabernet sauvignon). Read the story in in PaperCity Magazine here.
Was Paraguay that bad? Was the U.S. that good? After some thought, I’d say the latter is the more accurate assessment. The United States men were that good yesterday in Los Angeles before 70,000-plus fans in SoFi Stadium.
A solemn space at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.
Larry, Scott, and I prepared for the big event by attending the FIFA Fan Zone in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, itself a grand venue. Another former teammate of mine, John Ryan, from my Florida playing days, had traveled to L.A. with his girlfriend to attend the match (the two of them are also making their own journey up the coast to Seattle during this World Cup) and we met them at the coliseum.
Scott, Larry, and James outside SoFi before the match.
All was orderly and efficient at the match stadium, entry lines moving briskly, excitement visible. Reuniting with Larry and Scott for the tournament has been a surreal experience for me, and that sensation was heightened as I thought back to our Germany days. Fußball was and is front and center for us; we were in our safe space.
The K-Town trio at SoFi.
I won’t go on about the match. I enjoyed it thouroughly. Pulisic was splendid in the first half (he was substituted out at the half after sustaining a “kick” to a calf), there were two stellar goals — one from Balogun, one from Reyna, the latter my favorite, a curling piece of poetry that he curved around the keeper — and the U.S. side played a nearly flawless match. If they play close to this level against Turkey on the 25th things will really become exciting for U.S. supporters.
We will now enjoy Saturday in Los Angeles, take in the Brazil-Morocco match at home, and prepare for the journey toward Seattle. And what’s that I hear? It’s Die Mannschaft calling — Germany kicks off its tournament tomorrow, and I’ll be watching as we head up the coast.
Though I love good coffee, and drink it daily, I have measured out my life with World Cup tournaments.
The 1982 edition marked the actual, live beginning of my journey with the moveable feast; Spain was the host country, I was attending school in Germany. I had, of course, seen footage of Pelé and his magic, and had a few years earlier commenced my research into the history of the tournament. But now I was in Germany, in Europe, and the sport was with me 24 hours a day.
I began playing Fußball in New Hampshire, as a junior high school student, and continued in Clearwater, Florida, on school and club teams. Germany was next. My father was ordered to duty in Kaiserslautern, a small city in the Rheinland Pfalz. My mother, two sisters, and I accompanied him.
One of my coaches in Florida, Otto Lohmann, was a German, and I learned a lot from him. He was my first genuine coach, an individual who knew the sport and knew how to manage players. At the time I had no idea I would one day play and live in Deutschland, but I prefer to think that it was my destiny. In Florida I became a fan of the television show “Soccer Made in Germany,” which was moderated by the great Toby Charles and broadcast on PBS channels.The program was a Sunday-morning priority, and Charles brought the Bundesliga into my life. I watched what would soon become my club team, 1 F.C. Kaiserslautern, on that show.
On to Germany. That’s where it all shifted into overdrive.
I attended a Department of Defense school, for which I played soccer. I also tried out for a German club team, T.S.G. Kaiserslautern, and became a member of the A-Jugend squad. Life was perfect.
In May of 1981 I found myself at the home of the Kehls, watching Germany play Brazil in a friendly. I was also there for dinner; Frau Kehl had cooked pork and red cabbage. We drank riesling that Herr Kehl made his son and me dilute with water. I had already adopted Die Mannschaft as my national team, but that match firmly placed the team in my being. Herr Kehl was my trainer at T.S.G., and I admired him greatly. He was the best trainer I would ever have. Germany lost that friendly 2-1.
The KAHS Red Raiders, a good team. Scott Babos is second from left on the bottow row, Larry Day third from left, and I am sixth from left.
Larry Day and Scott Babos were among my best friends in Kaiserslautern. They were fellow Air Force Brats, and they were my DoD school teammates. We spent hours together on the training pitch, on buses traveling to away matches and home again, and playing together for the Kaiserslautern American High School Red Raiders. Scott and I had a standing appointment at a local raquetball facility near my house, at which we played endless one-on-one matches to improve our dribbling and ball control in tight spaces. The small plexiglass window on the door of the court was the target of our free-kick competitions. Larry joined us as often as he could at outdoor three-on-three matches to stay in shape during the brief off seasons. They both played for German club teams as well.
Larry and Kelli Day in Tokyo earlier this year.
The World Cup is back, and my journey continues. This tournament is especially meaningful to me, because my two friends and I are, beginning this evening, writing another chapter of our friendship. At the beginning of this year Larry phoned and asked me to get in touch with Scott. “I’ve got an idea for us,” he said. A few days later we heard Larry’s idea: He wanted to buy tickets for the three of us to World Cup matches taking place in Los Angeles, my home, and Seattle, where Scott lives. The last time the three of us were together was in late 2000.
Scott Babos, left, two of his grandchildren, and his son, Alexander, at an FC Dallas match.
Larry is, as I write, in the air between California and New Hampshire, and Scott is somewhere between Seattle and L.A. They are joining me here in Los Angeles this evening, and tomorrow we will be in the stands watching the U.S. battle Paraguay. On Sunday morning we take to the roads in an RV, headed up the beautiful coast, Seattle our ultimate destination, where we will attend the match between Australia and the U.S.
I am measuring out this thing called life. Larry and Scott will meet Angela for the first time. These two men who mean so much to me, who became part of my story, my existence, will now become part of my World Cup journey. It’s going to be our journey. It will be, I am certain, epic. And I’ll be documenting it here.
Evan White is the star of the latest “Wine Talk,” and he got his start in the hospitality industry at one of my favorite restaurants in Manhattan. That would be Babbo.
White now resides in Houston, Texas, and he’s the wine director for the Bludorn Hospitality Group, for he which oversees a number of wine lists and beverage programs. I liked hearing his take on problematic customers, and share his enthusiasm about pairing wines with Vietnamese cuisine. Wait until you hear what he says is the best cabernet sauvignon made in the United States.
Bludorn occupies one of my favorite spaces in Houston. (Julie Soefer photo)
Vin de France, how I appreciate thee. You let winemakers focus on grapes no matter their provenance (the fruit, not the winemakers). You are young — VDF as a national classification was born in 2009 — and your potential is immense. You’ve been a great addition to a proud and prestigious legacy, and I think you will mature into a fine individual.
Chardonnay, grenache blanc, viognier, marsanne, mauzac, muscat, and clairette. They are all in this bottle. And skins and whole clusters are used. It’s an orange wine, from Gérard Bertrand, and I opened it yesterday and loved it. It has a suggested retail price of $24.99, and you can search for it here or wherever you like to buy your wine.
Lovely color in the bottle, lively aromatics in the glass. Gérard Bertrand’s 2023 Orange Gold, a vin de France.
The 2023 Orange Gold, a project that sings of the Mediterranean, offers peach, apricot, jasmine, and white pepper as entry points, and those aromatics carry on when one drinks this wine. Your palate might pick up on the notes of apricot and peaches, as mine did, along with a hint of oxidation that is intriguing. Body is medium to medium-plus, while the finish is long and fairly complex.
Bertrand sought to pay homage to the history of Georgian orange wines, and I think this one aced that assignment.
I paired this with a frisée salad whose stars were slices of goat cheese battered with egg and panko before frying and pieces of pears macerated in balsamic vinegar. This wine would also be great with a goat curry dish or a tray of your favorite cheeses.
Pay no attention to the hype and trendiness of orange wine; it’s been around a long time, and will outlast us all. It deserves better than hype.
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