Flood's On Draft [12]

I'm on a banchan heater and no one is going to stop me

Something Chilled, Something Red

I like my wine crisp and cold. Easy drinking, nothing too acidic. Beyond that, I’m not really sure how to articulate what I like. I got scolded by an asshole bartender one time for saying “I’m cool with a little funk.” He snapped back, “Funk is a word people who don’t know what they’re talking about use to describe a million different tasting notes.” He wasn’t wrong — I don’t really know what I’m talking about. But woah, man, who hurt you? He pivoted the tablet around, prompting me to add a tip.

Wine is an art form, I’m not denying it. Sommeliers are impressive as hell — if you’ve seen those master som competitions where they pinpoint wine to a year, region, and altitude of the vineyard, you’ll know what I mean. Absurd skillset. And if that’s your thing, I respect that.

But wine culture can get really obnoxious. A surefire way to lose me as a customer is to treat me like a second-class citizen if I can’t talk tannins. What I’ve realized is that I don’t need to be an expert in wine to enjoy drinking it. Most of the time, I just want to sip on something that pairs nicely with my food or the weather. And I know I’m not alone in that.

I decided a while back that understanding wine and all its intricacies was unlikely to be something I really got into. I even took a wine class at Place des Fêtes a few months ago to see if I could learn a thing or two. But I was mesmerized by the focaccia sandwiches on the table and got drunk a little too fast to really lock into the history lessons. (Still, highly recommend a PdF wine class.)

The aftermath

Chenin opened a little over a month ago a few blocks off Campus Martius. It’s as red hot as a Detroit opening gets. There are ten stools, plus three more outside in the alley if you want to smoke a cig. I don’t smoke, but I do appreciate a tasteful cig aesthetic — especially in the context of a wine bar.

It’s a bar in an alley

Around 11:00 pm there were 30 people packed inside the narrow bar. Chenin is silly but also serious. I think that’s the best thing a bar can be. Serious about what they’re serving, but unpretentious in delivery. Even though the place was overloaded, the bartenders were looking out for people — greeting them and sliding menus through the crowd. Their goal was to make sure everyone had something they liked to drink in their hand. I asked for a chilled red, and they said, “All our reds are chilled, you can’t go wrong.” Nice.

The curved ceiling is just delightful

The bartender took my request for easy drinking in stride and poured from a bottle of Cantina Giardino from Campania, Italy. Bright, savory, and crushable. No lecture, just a healthy pour.

Parcelle in Chinatown is another place that gets its. They have a white, orange, and chilled red of the day — ideal for people like me who can decide on a color but not much else. They carry a deep selection of bottles for the people who want to get specific. They also send an email after your visit reminding you what you ordered and offering you a discount on a bottle if you want to buy one. Genius marketing and actually helpful. It’s a similar story at Cellar 36 — they’re happy to guide you if you know what you want, happy to pour you something nice if you don’t.

My mom, on the other hand, loves a wine list. She spends the first 10 minutes of dinner browsing. She’s way more knowledgeable than me. But even still, I’ve watched her get overwhelmed by menus that are too deep. If she feels that, I’ve got no shot.

All of this is just a reminder: it’s great to be excited about what you’re into. But the best hospitality is rooted in reading the room. Share your passion with the people who are curious — not the people who just looking for an easy bev.

I’m hopeful that’s where wine bar culture continues to head — to a place where the pros curate a list so strong that guys like me can roll in and blindly trust what’s being poured with minimal dialogue. I’ll take education and storytelling if it’s offered, sure. But I’m also cool sipping something chilled and red and calling it a day.

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Recently Added

The newest additions to Flood’s Worldwide

Cho Dang Gol Koreatown, New York
The sticky note at the host stand read, “60-80 min wait.” Enough time for a pint, maybe even two. I typed my name into the iPad — a robo host, of sorts — and made my way to The Westbury for what turned out to be a shockingly good Guinness.

Exactly, and I mean exactly 60 minutes later, I was seated at Cho Dang Gol. A can of Terra was in front of me before I could even make sense of the menu — pages and pages of Korean comfort classics. My head was on a swivel, observing every plate coming out of the kitchen. “Damn, I want that,” I said about six different dishes.

The hospitality, or lack thereof, at the front door doesn’t represent CDG as a whole. It’s decidely warm and inviting, and it’s abundantly clear they know how to run a restaurant. It was busy with no signs of slowing down, but there was surprisingly no rush to turn our table. Things like that tend to bug me — when a check gets set down while I’m mid-bite of spicy tofu stew.

Order with your heart at CDG

We lingered over gojujang-coated seafood rice cakes and so many bowls of banchan. There was also a Korean buckwheat pancake, pan-fried tofu with spicy fermented raw octopus and marinated seaweed, and a cauldron of freshly-made rice, which they deemed the “regular” size. Each dish was a delight. The combination of it all — a revelation.

CDG is one of those places you hear legend of. People tell you it’s great but can’t quite articulate why. I’m not sure I can, either. But I know I’ll be back to try to make sense of it all.

Vin Mon Lapin Montreal, Quebec
I told a few Montrealers I was going to Mon Lapin, and they all had the same, somewhat sarcastic response: “Oh, the best restaurant in Canada.” I’m convinced the eye rolls aren’t ill will or distaste toward Mon Lapin specifically, but rather a reflection of a broad distaste for subjective rankings among people who actually work in the industry. They’d throw shade at anyone listed at #1. It’s like ragging on Manchester United. It’s just what you’re supposed to do.

I’ll be honest, I expected there to be at least a touch of ego. When you sit on top of the mountain it’s natural to get a little cocky. But it wasn’t there. They were throwing down. Humbly, gracefully. Not an ounce of complacency. They were cheffing like they were scrappy #88 on “Canada’s 100 Best,” trying to prove someone wrong.

Best seat in the house

Accolades aside, Mon Lapin is warm, buzzing, and over-the-top hospitable. I reckon it would be a lovely place for an occasion. But my occasion was no occasion. Mon Lapin is great for that, too.

The bar-slash-chef’s counter was where I was perched, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I watched as brown butter was delicately spooned over the fluke crudo that was shortly after headed my direction. The plating of the mustard leaf-wrapped lamb shoulder happened in front of my eyes. I get giddy about this kind of shit.

Sungolds in the winter!

The simplest dish — gnocchi with lamb bolognese — might have been the most impressive of them all. A tender, comforting embrace on a frigid Montreal night. “It’s only three ingredients!” our server, Dimitri exclaimed. I realized I had overordered when the dessert landed — semifredo with meyer lemon curd, that looks like a slab of butter. But it was too wildly good not to finish.

Mon Lapin is a place for people who love food — it’s a production, but not showy. I don’t know how you could hate a place like this in good conscience. Let them pour you wine. Let them talk you into a dish you weren’t going to order. They know what they’re doing.

These hits, and many more, are included in Flood’s Worldwide:

Flood's Worldwide

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Best Dishes

Some of the best things I ate (or drank) recently

Seriole Cru & Panais à la Barigoule — Salle Climatisée Montreal, Quebec
Seriole cru is raw amberjack. It’s sliced relatively thick for a crudo-like dish, served slightly chilled. The buttery, subtly sweet fish is paired with warm panais, or parsnips. They’re braised the Provençal way, “à la Barigoule” — in white wine and olive oil with lots of aromatics.

Contrast can be fun but also a little intimidating. My little brain couldn’t anticipate how these flavors and textures would come together. And I’ll be honest, I didn’t order this dish for that very reason — staring down the menu, I couldn’t comprehend it. Brendan brought it out because he thought we needed it. He was right. He usually is.

Not many restaurants can dream up a dish like this; even fewer can pull it off. But Salle Climatisée can. They can do anything.

Thank you Brendan

Mandarins with Sweet Onions — Cervo’s Lower East Side, New York
March is when mandarins are at their absolute best (I’m told). For Cervo’s, that means they’re good enough to be elevated from a component of a dish to the whole shabang. Cervo’s always has something like this on the menu — not quite a crudo, definitely not a salad. Just great produce elevated with high-quality olive oil. The mandarins are bursting with tart, juicy flavor. The sweet onions and Spanish vinegar balance things out. There’s a welcome peppery finish. It’s a brilliantly simple dish — most things at Cervo’s are.

The fellas are juicy this time of year

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Flood’s Hi-Fi

Artists and records for moving and grooving

HAAi — Can’t Stand To Lose (single)
Track one off HAAi’s new album perfectly captures why I’m so captivated by her production style. “Can’t Stand To Lose” builds slowly and steadily into a hypnotic rhythm, with the signature HAAi choppy breakbeats adding texture. The track centers around HAAi’s haunting, atmospheric vocals that grow to a powerful howl when the chorus breaks through. HAAi’s discography balances an underlying melancholic energy with these profound moments of euphoria that make you feel, but keep you dancing.

Reyna Tropical — Conexión Ancestral (Sofia Kourtesis Edit) (remix)
Just a brilliant little piano house tune from Sofia Kourtesis, who, in my opinion, does some of her best work on remixes and reworks. My intro to her music was her spin on Jungle’s “GOOD TIMES,” which I couldn’t get enough of. Here, she adds pace and groove to Reyna Tropical’s already lush original (which I wrote about here). Reyna’s vocals are a delight in the context of her sensual, tropical indie tunes, but they fit beautifully on an energetic dance track as well. This tune, 1:00 am at Departamento, would pop. Just saying.

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Up Next

Places on my radar

1. Cholita Ridgewood, Queens — A cheeky little 4:00 pm iced latte into an early Rolo’s hit feels like spring.

2. Quarters Tribeca, New York — The gravitational pull this place’s aesthetic has cannot be understated. I would like to purchase a cocktail and maybe a lamp.

3. GABA Mexico City, Mexico — Round three in CDMX is on the clock… I’m gearing up.