Of Gumbo and Cigars

Crazy Marty eats, drinks, and smokes his way into higher social strata.

I don't read the society pages and not, as a lot of people suppose, because I can't read. It's just that coming from a family renowned for its lox, sturgeon and herring, the society pages weren't considered good for much other than wrapping fish. Plus, with my folks smelling like marinated Matjes, we weren't invited to a lot of New York's upper crust affairs (yeaah...those Schiffs and Seligmans were probably just a bunch of anti-semites anyway).

Things change though, and my wife and I were one of the very few present at the San Francisco society event of the week. In honor of the unveiling of the statue of Juan Marichal (and if you need his fame explained, please don't read any further and re-start your education), a lot of prominent Dominicans were in town, including Carlos Fuente, Jr., aka Carlito, scion to the Arturo Fuente cigar manufacturing empire.


Carlito Fuente, legend of the cigar world

Among cigar smokers in the USA, Carlito is a living legend. More importantly, he is a hero to any number of poverty stricken Dominican children, who have benefited tremendously from his Cigar Family Charitable Foundation. The money Carlito has raised through the Foundation is responsible for a beautiful medical clinic and a potable water supply in otherwise ignored areas of the Dominican Republic. Other companies are following his example, making the Fuente family a lot more influential in providing for children's welfare than other, more publicized, more self-aggrandizing individuals, like, uh, Rob Reiner.

When Carlito realized that his trip meant a free evening in our fair city, after paying proper homage to the Dominican Dandy (sobriquet of retired Giants Hall of Famer Juan Marichal, winner of 243 magnificently, poetically, gracefully pitched major league games...most of them started and finished by Juan himself, a very rare occurrence for today's coddled players) Carlito wondered if he might not enjoy dinner at his friend's house, the cigar-loving San Francisco lawyer, Glenn. Always happy to have friends over for whom he can play his guitar and cook, Glenn was delighted to have Carlito come for dinner. To share the homemade gumbo, Glenn needed more than just his wife, Cat, though, and so he called on yours truly and Mrs. Crazy Marty. We happily accepted the invitation to assist in entertaining this visiting dignitary, while concurrently indulging our yen for good drinks and good smokes.

Accepting the invite paid off. Glenn and Cat have a delightful Edwardian home in the Richmond district with lots of warm wood, nooks and crannies in which to take a nap and an outdoor area worthy of a good cigar and bottle of wine. That, of course, is exactly where we started the evening, listening to Glenn serenade us with songs by Jimmy Rodgers, the Singing Brakeman, and George Jones. Carlito was enraptured and I took advantage of the situation by swilling as much of the 1990 Dehlinger Cabernet Sauvignon as I could. When the bottle was empty, the cigars down to the nub and the song repertoire over, we repaired to the dining room, where Cat had finished the cornbread that was to accompany the gumbo. One could tell by the reddish mahogany brown of the liquid that the most critical part of the gumbo, the roux, was done right, and supper started off in great fashion. We opened a 1981 Rodney Strong Cabernet, which still had enough left to be a delicious accompaniment, and then went on to stuff a bunch of Memphis Minnie's savory barbecued beef brisket down our gullets. After the gumbo we didn't need the brisket, but Glenn was worried that maybe the gumbo wouldn't suffice (it most certainly would have) and who can resist the temptation of good barbecue (except maybe a vegetarian...and there are more vegetarian cigar smokers than you might guess...but none were in Glenn's house that night)?

As concerned and thoughtful guests, we didn't want Glenn and Cat seduced by the lure of good wine laying around their house, so we then helped ourselves to the remaining bottle of aged Cabernet Sauvignon, a 1989 Robert Mondavi Reserve. Carlito had to catch a flight out of SFO back to Miami and then on to his home in the Dominican Republic.

I was sober enough to drive, or so I thought and we did arrive safely and without incident, but Carlito did mention that the rapidity with which I got him to the airport had him convinced that there was more than a touch of Dominican in me. Before he headed off into terminal, we hugged, exchanged our thanks for this special evening, and then Carlito presented me with a handful of rare, exceptional cigars from the world's premier cigar making family. If this is an example of what might be in store, maybe I should shed my preconceptions and try some social climbing.

Tres Bien

Still more from El Greco's culinary romp through Las Vegas



After being unceremoniously tossed out of Aureole's bar for attempting to light a cigar, I wandered over to one of Vegas' true dining delights, Fleur de Lys. With an interior that is tres elegant (that's French for 'damn nice'), Fleur de Lys is the cousin to chef Hubert Keller's well known original restaurant in San Francisco.

The food was un-fucking-believable. A steak tartare the way only the French can do it (yes, that means a raw quail egg comes with it). A melt-in-your-mouth sashimi grade pepper encrusted ahi that rivals any I have had on the West Coast. One of the best filet mignon's I've had outside of Kansas City (that will be a future article).

Yes, the wine list is heavy towards French wines and the Euro has pretty much screwed up any semblance of affordability for French oenophiles. Sure, a lot of them were excellent vintages, but there were basically no French wines from any region under $200 a bottle and quite a few over $500. Thank goodness I had just won big on the craps table. I tossed $2500 in chips on the table and ordered a '61 Chateau Lafite Rothschild like I was buying a 2 liter Pepsi at 7-11. All class.

But the best was that these folks know what service is all about. Russell was our waiter and he was damn near flawless--not stuffy and not too familiar. You knew Russell was good when a female patron asked about the thousands of pink roses on the spectacular wall sculpture and he immediately plucked one off for her. Smooth, Russell, very smooth.

Get your taste buds down to Vegas and dine at Fleur de Lys because this is what food is all about.

click here to see photos of the amazing food at Fleur de Lys

Aureole Las Vegas

El Greco continues his review of wining and dining in Las Vegas.

By now you know that food in Vegas is so much more than the $14.95 buffet. Thank god. With the advent of celebrity chefs on both coasts it was only a matter of time before Vegas figured out that people would pay, and pay well, for great food.

Aureole is Charlie Palmer's well known Upper East Side eatery that opened a branch in Vegas with a huge splash a couple of years ago. The tour de force, three story wine tower (see Now That's a Friggin' Wine Cellar) wowwed patrons with its 60,000 bottle collection.

But let's focus on the food for now. In a word, scrumptious. The presentation, beautiful. It was one of those situations where you want to order the whole menu.


A trio of ahi apetizers: sesame seared, 'miso laced' roulade, and spicy tartare


A generous proscuitto-gruyere pork chop with spinach, sautéed chanterelles, gorgonzola buccatine, and a veal jus

How about the service? Ahem. I have some issues here with Mr. Charles Palmer. That deal where six different waiters wait on you and you never know who your waiter is? I am not fond of it. Hell, on a lot of days, I can't even remember my own name, so how am I going to keep six waiters straight?

Later, we wanted to have a drink in Aureole's ultra cool bar. We were told by the hostess that she would see if they could "fit us." What's to fit in a bar? It's a bar for crying out loud, admittedly an upscale bar, but a bar nonetheless. And it wasn't like it was crowded in the bar. Was she deciding if we were their kind of people? Did she spot the TSA sticker on my attache and wonder if I was a security risk? Maybe Jenna Bush and her posse were stopping by later and they didn't want the riff raff hanging out. The hostess did let us in, making sure we knew what a favor she was doing to "fit us in."

We sidled up to the bar to order drinks and knowing that I was in Las Vegas, I slipped out a cigar and lighter, intending to indulge myself. Without missing a beat (and without asking us what we wanted to drink) the vigilant bartender informed me, "No smoking until 11 PM in the bar." Not "excuse me, sir." Not "I'm so sorry, sir." Just "no smoking" with less courtesy than might be offered the busboy.

I don't go into expensive bars to be treated snotty by the bartender or the hostess. As we say back in the Midwest, fuck that shit. So I said, "forget the drinks" and left to go back to the casino where I could smoke, drink, swear, gamble, and hit on chicks. Thank goodness for civilization.

see the Aureole menu

This is the YMCA?

I sure as hell don't remember the YMCA being anything like this. Last Friday's fundraiser for Urban Services YMCA featured great wines, delicious food, hot music, and hip fashionistas dripping off the walls of the Simmons Gallery. No, they definitely didn't have this at my boyhood YMCA.


Nicole was there. You should have been, too.

Silent auction goodies like cases of wine, spa treatments, opera tickets, and a Willie McCovey signed baseball. Did I mention babes all over the place?


The striking Dana. Are you getting the idea here?

But this was more than an excuse to party. This event supported the important work of Urban Services YMCA--truancy prevention, adolescent mentoring, violence alternatives, just to name a few. But I could not help but notice more than a few lovely ladies there.

Heather, the lass with sass, and captivating Carolyn.

Delicious food was catered by Project Open Hand. A fine jazz quintet blazed away. What a great way to help a fantastic organization and chat up girls at the same time!


Anne, the consummate partygoer with the great smile.

It was a big night for Urban Services--over $10,000 was netted! For a lousy $50 you could have been there too, sipping wine with these beautiful women.


Nick and Scandinavian beauty, Jill.

By now you are distraught that you didn't attend. Not to worry. Urban Services will host other events and you will be there amidst all these smiling dolls.


Fetching redheaded Kimberly.

See all the photos here

Now That's a Friggin' Wine Cellar

Returning from Las Vegas, noted wine guzzler el Greco reports on one serious wine collection.

OK, so if you had a wine collection of 60,000 bottles, you'd be a bit hard pressed to find a place to store it all. And that is why chef Charlie Palmer of Aureole (Las Vegas) had to build this incredible three story glass Wine Tower.


Three stories of wine and 60,000 bottles
means you'll probably find something to drink.

With this many bottles, the wine list has to look like the New York City phone book. Having thought of this, your Aureole sommelier hands you not a wine list, but an electronic wine list on a tablet PC that allows you to look at every wine and sort by country, region, price, variety, or any other category you can think of.


Anne peruses the electronic wine list and orders yet another bottle of 1961 Margaux. Meanwhile, el Greco furiously digs through his wallet looking for just one more credit card that is not maxed out.

How do they get the wine out of there, you ask? A system of steel cables allow "wine angels" (a concept el Greco heartily endorses) to rappel up and down to fetch your bottle. The only question left--how can you get one of these installed in your own home?



Review the complete e wine list and stay tuned for Critical Cloud's review of Aureole's cuisine.

Can That Girl Ever Sell $6 Hamburgers

A Carl's Jr burger? Most of us wouldn't go three steps out of our way to get one. I guess that's why the Carl's Jr folks hired Paris to sell their $6 BBQ burger for them. And if the hamburger gig doesn't work out for her, I bet some carwash joint will hire her.


If that don't sell hamburgers, ain't nothing going to.

See the whole commercial right here

Drink Up! It's for the Kids

After enduring countless complaints about hoarding all the hip events and cool women for himself, el Greco is going to clue you slugs in on this month's best fundraising event. Of course it will be populated with babes. Would el Greco waste your precious time if it weren't?

The Urban Services YMCA of San Francisco is hosting it's 3rd Annual Wine Tasting and Silent Auction at the Simmons Gallery this Friday (May 20) from 7-10 PM. There will be wine to taste, wine to bid on, fantastic food. Your drinking actually helps kids! This is el Greco's kind of party! Click on that link above right now!

And for those of you who don't get your sorry asses there, afterwards you can look at the photos of el Greco partying with gorgeous women and reflect on your miserable lives.

Buy a Lady a Drink

Our esteemed colleagues in Washington, DC, the Cleveland Park Men's Club, have recognized el Greco's heretofore unappreciated wit and wisdom and sought his advice on one the burning issues of our times. Join them and el Greco as you learn: How to Buy a Lady a Drink.

Heavens, Lads, It's Tasty

While recently immersed in his spiritual discipline, el Greco was offered a "wee dram" of Laphroig 30 year whiskey by the erstwhile bartender, Jake. "Try this," he said, "you're looking kind of crappy."


Sure, you've had the Laphroaig 10 year,
but the 30 year is a whole 'nother experience.

A splash of water added and el Greco nosed this rich, strong single malt. One sniff and he knew he was about to enter whiskey nirvana. And the taste was no disappointment. Briny, peaty, complex, and an oh-so-delightful finish. Smoother by far than Laphroig's 10 year, it still has the unmistakable burnt, tarry flavors of this Islay distillery.

Try a shot at the Occidental Bar in San Francisco real soon. Heavens, lads, it's tasty!

Seattle Nights

by HipsterCat

Opportunity recently came knocking and before I knew it, whisked me away up north far from the sunny shores of my beloved San Francisco to that place they call Seattle.

And in a strange way now that I am back, I realize Seattle has come to grow on me. Some of this was influenced by the nice weather (imagine, no rain until the last day when I had to leave)! But the bulk of my rosy vision comes from the wonderful food, cafes, and drinks that were had during the week, getting progressively better as Monday wound its way over to Friday.

Early on in the week, our activities were focused on industry events that were being held for us technoweenies. The highlight was the Microsoft x64 party celebrating the release of a new operating system. I told you it was for technoweenies.


Your MicroSoft dollars at work. Technoweenies trying to have fun.

But let’s talk about the drinks there. They did have the usual waitstaff stumbling around with trays of alcoholic delights, but you had to act quick. Think about it. A room full of 500+ engineering types many of whom rarely see daylight outside the cubicle farm? Frightening.

We sampled some three drinks from these prepared trays. The first, a blend of vodka and tangerine juice and something else. It was drinkable. The second was some concoction made with a large amount of curacao. So you can imagine the color was a very bright electric blue. The taste? Like vomit. There is a reason I stay far the hell away from curacao. Thanks, Bill Gates. One last try at the trays yielded a gummy jello shot. Yes, one of the party planners must have been reminiscing about college. Sad.

It was at this point that we gave up on the trays and decided to queue up to the bar for some real booze. And indeed it was well worth it. One satisfying manhattan later, all was right with the world. Note to self: stay away from foo foo drinks.

Midweek found us at some tasty spots. Sazerac was a welcome visit. The food was fairly good and the cocktails very pleasing. Judging by the name you can guess what their specialty cocktail is.

Friday found me capping the week at an extremely delightful little bistro down by the waterfront called Cafe Campagne. Located on Post Alley (tucked away down by the Public Marketplace), it truly is like stepping into a slice of France.

The doors have the delightful plaques for open/push in French, rustic wood tables and belle époque type decorations. Marble bar with very comfortable chairs, and the friendliest staff I’ve encountered in a long time. This is all before I’ve even gotten to the nosh and libation! The big treat of the evening was that they had a swing jazz band playing. Great music to go along with a fabulous dinner.

As far as the culinary treats went, I stuck to the traditional bistro fare and was not disappointed. Chicken/pork pate with cornichons, mustard and good crusty bread. Hearty salad with the lightest vinagrette and toasted goat cheese. I would have gone for the oysters but the house specialty that evening was sauteed clams with truffle oil, English spring peas and herbs. Absolutely Out Of This World. And of course there were frites with garlic aioli. It’s no wonder that I didn’t have any room left for dessert.


The bar in Cafe Campagne. A real bar.

I did however manage to prioritize the most important task, and that was to do a sampling of the offerings on their drink menu. I’ll admit to cribbing some notes on recipes to bring back and try in the Critical Cloud laboratory here in SF. The Le Rougir was what I started with (Hangar One Raspberry vodka and Duval Leroy Brut Rose champagne). Hiccup! Very nice. Next was the Cosmandarine (Absolut Vodka, Triple Sec, lemon juice and Edmond Briottet Mandarine Liquer). Hey, I think Im seeing double now, ah no matter, let's keep going.

Third and last (yes my liver was still in one piece at this point, though probably working overtime) was the Citrongenue (Hangar One Kaffir Lime Vodka, Cointreau and Pellegrino Limonata). I would have kept going through the list but I still had to find my way back to San Francisco.


Several of these at Cafe Campagne will fortify the soul.

Seeing Eye Bill's Wild Wine Shootout

by Seeing Eye Bill

Eight pounds of prime rib. Seven bottles of wine. Twenty-four fine cigars. Sounds like trouble brewing in Menlo Park!


six wines, six diners, who will be left standing?

It started as a discussion among six Thursday night cigar smoking buddies. According to a Wine Spectator article, ten well-to-do "gunslingers" gathered at a chic LA restaurant. Each person was instructed to bring a bottle of wine and a large credit card. The "least favorite" wine picked up the entire tab. Sounds simple enough, we thought, let’s give it a try.

Since the six of us collectively lost something like $4 billion in Enron and WorldCom stock, we decided to hold our Wine Shootout for more reasonable stakes. We would prepare our own meal and each bring a bottle of wine for a blind taste competition. The person bringing the least favorite wine would pay for the groceries. Gary graciously offered to host the Shootout at his hip bachelor pad in Menlo Park.

Gary's girlfriend, Sheryl, served as our impartial sommelier, handling the blind tasting duties. We were impressed that Gary had a girlfriend who actually encouraged him to drink.

We began our evening around 4pm with an El Rey Del Mundo Demi-Tasse from 1990. Next up were salmon tartare cornets, prepared by yours truly, paired with a 2001 Robert Mondavi Fume Blanc Reserve (brought by Rick) and a 1998 Hoyo De Monterrey Le Hoyo du Deputes.


salmon tartare cornets prepared by Seeing Eye Bill

The dinner menu consisted of:
Spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing and toasted walnuts (Gary)
Mushroom Risotto (Dane)
Prime rib of beef (Gary) with roasted mixed vegetables (Dave)
Scharffenberger Chocolate sampling of Milk, Dark and Mocha (Gary)
Chocolate Orgasmic Cake with whipped cream sprinkled with chocolate and toffee (Rick)

The table was set, the wines poured, and the competition began. Appropriately enough, Neil Diamond's "Red Red Wine" began to play on the stereo. Bacchus himself would have been proud. Terms like "raspberry fruit bomb", "silky", "earthy" and "high tannins" began to fly. It was difficult to rate any of these wines as “least favorite". Some of the wines began with one flavor profile, but given time to breathe, changed as the meal progressed. Others seemed to pair better with different courses of the meal. The more we drank, the better they all tasted.

We adjourned to the back yard where John distributed 1998 Montecristo #2's and Gary poured a 1977 Warre's Vintage Port. Here we took our final tallies and ranked the wines. Then the identities of the original bottles were revealed.

Here are the wines in order they finished:
#1 2000 Bell Wine Cellars Clone 6 Cabernet Sauvignon Rutherford ($55-$60) (Dave)
#2 1995 Gundlach Bundschu Vintage Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon Sonoma ($70) (Bill)
#3 tie 2000 Merryvale Beckstoffer Vineyard X Cabernet Sauvignon Oakville ($75) (Gary)
#3 tie 2000 Joseph Phelps Insignia Napa Valley ($80) (Dane)
#5 1997 Sketchbook Vineyards Merlot Mendocino ($25) (John)
#6 Opus Overture (the Overture is a non vintage wine, however, it was the 1996 release) Napa Valley ($40) (Rick)

A lively discussion ensued. Words were exchanged. The alcohol kicked in. Fortunately, a tense situation was defused with the announcement for dessert followed by yet another cigar. Gary proffered 2003 Vegas Robaina Don Alejandro Farm Rolled #2’s and Dane produced an orange-infused Compass Box Orangerie. And Rick opened his checkbook. Time to pay up, dude.


Seeing Eye Bill survives six glasses of wine and four cigars

A mere 8 hours after it began, the Shootout drew to a close at 12:15 AM, when our host exclaimed "Alright, get the hell out of here, I'm tired.” An all around amazing evening with great friends, food, wine and cigars.


always a winner, the Montecristo #2

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

by el Greco

Perhaps it's not quite that dismal, but nonetheless, the indomitable Pat (Best Damn Bartender in SF Period) will hold court at the Occidental Cigar Club no more. Looking oh-so-stylish in a black evening dress, Pat bid a fond farewell to her many adorers last Saturday night. And the City is a poorer place for it.

But like a phoenix arising from the ashes, the Occidental will continue with Jack (bartender extraordinaire himself), Jake (an Irishman with the gift of gab if there ever was one), and the newly annointed James (standing in the mighty shoes of Pat).

And as always, the Occidental proudly proclaims: "Smoking Not Permitted, Except in Designated Areas, Such as the Bar, Where You May Safely Enjoy a Cigar Without Fear of Imprisonment or Public Stoning".

Don't Come Between a Woman and Her Whiskey

by el Greco

'Tis a dangerous thing indeed to come between a girl and her scotch. That's why, with his scant remaining faculties, el Greco sat between two women drinking whiskey.


the Wild Irish Rose

The locale was the Matrix Fillmore (3138 Fillmore @ Greenwich) and the occasion, a tasting of nine single malt whiskeys. Sponsored by Plumpjack, our host was Ed Kohl with Signatory USA.


Michelle, a woman obviously serious about her whiskey

The first five whiskeys (see entire list below) went down easily. Very easily. In fact, serious whiskey drinkers might have considered them a mere warmup for the hardcore stuff. And indeed, it was at the sixth sample, a 10 year Benriach, that the Wild Irish Rose hit the proverbial wall. The Benriach is peaty--peat on the nose, peat on the palate, just peaty as hell. And being the wild Irish girl she is, she tossed it down with aplomb. And then, with a lot of coughing and sputtering, she said, "strong stuff." And then she turned bright red and didn't cool off for a good five minutes. After which she asked el Greco to finish her sample of Benriach. What could el Greco do, but come to the assistance of the Wild Irish Rose? Down the hatch. Delicious.


Ed Kohl, Signatory USA, and el Greco

But it was the grand finale that made the evening oh-so-worth-it. Titillating our palates was a beautiful 30 year Glen Rothes Cask Strength. Smooth. More flavors than could be described. And one of those lingering finishes that makes you think if that isn't a little taste of heaven, then nothing is.

The complete tasting was as follows:

Rosebank, 12 yr, Lowland
Glenturret, 12 yr, South Highland
Edradour, 10 yr, South Highland
Pulteney, 13 yr, North Highland
Ledaig, 10 yr, Island of Mull
Benriach, 12 yr, Speyside
Caol Ila, 14 yr, Islay
Dallas Dhu, 28 yr, Highland
Glen Rothes, 30 yr, Speyside

for more information, try:

Plumpjack Noe Valley with a selection of 80 single malt whiskeys
maltwhiskey.com a great site of nearly every distillery in Scotland