St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Next Fall

There's a lot going on beneath the surface of "Next Fall," the fast-moving, engaging play by Geoffrey Nauffts that opened the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis Studio last night at the Grandel Theatre. But it throws the audience a bunch of questions, some easy, some hard, some solved, some left unanswered, just hanging like Charlie Brown's kite, somewhere in a tree, swaying in the wind.

The comedy-drama, nominated for a Tony as best play last spring, involves two gay men in a relationship, the parents of one, the employer of another and a former lover, with religion a constant intruder. They meet in a hospital waiting room after one of the young men has been hit by a taxi and is fighting for his life. So we get an over-arching question by Adam (Jeffrey Kuhn): If the men who beat Matthew Shepard to death accept Christ while he does not, will they go to Heaven while he goes to Hell? Luke (Colin Hanlon) holds for a long pause, finally, softly, says, "Yes."

But that's not Nauffts' first question. That honor goes to the title. Where is Naufft pointing us, leading us with "Next Fall"? Does he refer to the season of the year when an unfamiliar chill in the air brings a shiver, when vegetation shrivels and dies, when some animals huddle in caves and hibernate through the winter ahead? Or does he have John Milton on his mind, or John Bunyan, who dealt with the spiritual fall of man? He refers to Thornton Wilder's "Our Town," so he must know of Milton and Bunyan.

The play's action shifts back and forth from the men's apartment to a hospital waiting room where Luke's friends gather while he fights for his life after being hit by a taxi. The friends meet Luke's parents there. In the apartment, we follow their relationship.

And in the second act, while Adam and Luke add another chapter to their never-ending argument over Luke's beliefs and Adam's increasing resentment of Luke's active Christianity, praying not just before meals, but after sex, a habit that is sending atheist Adam round the bend. And Adam, fighting for self-control, asks Luke "Are you ever going to love me more than him?" Of course, when Adam speaks, we do not know if Him will be capitalized, as in God, or remain small, as in his earthly father (a terrific Keith Jochim).

Nauffts sets up this bifurcated line when he has Adam ask Luke how far along in college his younger brother is. This is set up in an earlier discussion when Luke promises to come out to his family and speak honestly of his relationship with Adam as soon as the brother goes off to college. Luke has said nothing and brother Ben now is a sophomore.

These are valid questions for a playwright to ask an audience, and takes nothing from the play when he does not answer them.

Still, they rattled around in my head, causing admiration for Naffts' sublety even as a fine, taut first act slid somewhere between soap opera and melodrama as the play went on. Coma scenes and families meeting in hospital waiting rooms are overused devices, but then again, the confrontations have to take place somewhere.
Kuhn is outstanding as Adam, his hypochondria showing Woody Allen touches, but his love for Luke is deep and real, his courage in coming out very strong, and blessedly, he's not an actor. He's working in a candle shop, but eventually becomes a teacher, and his pride in his new profession is something special. Hanlon is less effective as Luke. He's certainly a hunk, but he's kind of empty. However, as a person with nothing but faith in a higher power and the hope for an eventual journey to a happy place, he's extremely two-dimensional, and possesses the ability to insult every other religion without realizing he's doing it

It's a treat to see Ben Nordstrom as an actor in a real play. No songs, no dances. He's Brandon, rather an odd duck, a hippie who went into business and became wealthy. He's carrying a Bible in the opening scene, he wears a suit and tie, but we really don't learn much about him until midway in the second act. Nordstrom is excellent, serving as something of a balance wheel between Adam and Luke.

I've watched Jochim for many years, back to the days when David Frank was artistic director and the company was almost a real repertory group. A fine actor with the ability to play many roles, he was around for one of the Rep's low points, "Frankenstein," in 1979, and a high one a few years ago as Richard Nixon in "Frost/Nixon." As Butch, Luke's father and a wealthy Southern redneck, he's solid, but there's not enough depth to the character. The same holds true for both women. Holly (Marnye Young), a self-described "fag hag," is friends with both Adam and Luke, runs the candle shop where Adam works. She also sells "totchkes," Yiddish for knick-knacks and other useless stuff that always bears the name of the place where it was bought, from Amsterdam to Zanzibar. I used to work for someone who pronounced them "chockys."

Susan Greenhill is Arlene, almost is a caricature of a flighty Southern woman, a flibberty-gibbit if you will. She and Butch have been divorced for 20 years, and one can easily understand why. She loves her son, and she likes the fact that he's in a Jewish hospital because "they make good doctors." A Jewish chapel makes sure we understand what is going on.

Seth Gordon, the Rep's new associate artistic director, makes his directorial debut and shows nice pacing, but could have received the same results without the Southern schtick. With the action shifting forward and backward in time and space, it's easy to know where we are, from Brian Sidney Bembridge's sets of a hospital waiting room and an apartment, but it sometimes takes several seconds to know when we are. This is a problem that never was a problem when theater programs set the scenes, but that seems to have become a lost skill, and it's not fair to make a theater patron guess, especially one who attends only several shows a year. Rusty Wandall's sound design included some effective music, and Lou Bird's costumes are simple and proper, but did Kuhn have to wear the same shoes throughout?

Next Fall, a production of the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis, will be on stage at the Grandel Theatre through Nov. 14

--Joe

The Tillman Story

When it comes to concocting stories to make their organization look good, there are no bigger bumblers than the U. S. Army, and "The Tillman Story," sickening in both origin and execution, is just the latest. It opens today, just another illustration of the sad fact that all through the long, bloody, losing war in the Middle East, we have heard tales of heroism and bravery, only to hear them recanted later.

I worked in an Army public information office many wars ago, so I have watched this from both sides. The impressive, embarrassing movie opens today.

Telling lies simply doesn't work. Eventually--maybe too late--the truth comes out, whether it's about an office burglary, a pregnant mistress, false Army service or harassing a co-worker. As an aside, I think the Wikileaks people are doing a great and patriotic job if they can eliminate just a few of the lies that keep us in the dark about what harm our government is doing to us..

Pat Tillman was a rare man, one we can all praise and, perhaps, try to emulate. A true scholar-athlete, a talented football player, he turned his back on a lucrative contract with the Arizona Cardinals (yes, even Bill Bidwill has given lucrative contracts) to join the Army and fight in the Middle East. He believed in his country and what it told him it was doing. When the NFL, the Cardinals and the Army cooked up a deal to give him an early discharge and be a public hero on the football field, Tillman refused.

And it killed him, and made up a cock-and-bull story that he had died a hero when he actually was killed--accidentally, it seems--by other American soldiers with itchy trigger fingers.

When the Tillman family (his divorced parents joined forces to fight for their son's name) complained loudly about not getting enough facts about the death, they were sent 3000 pages of redacted documents, and they complained even more loudly.

President George W. Bush, after eulogizing Pat Tillman, eventually had to admit that the soldier had been killed "in the fog of war." Even a non-fan of that President knows it was not his fault. Like the merest civilian, the Commander in Chief was told lies so that the Army could cover its own mistakes.

Of course, trying to make Tillman a public, flag-waving hero might have caused even more problems for the government; Tillman was an avowed Atheist, reading Noam Chomsky in Afghanistan.

Director Amir Bar-Lev, who wrote the screenplay with Joe Bini and Mark Monroe, interviewed many people along the way, and he covered the Congressional hearings in which many generals, their chests covered with ribbons signifying battles they had watched from afar, muttered and mumbled and suffered from major loss of memory. Their conduct was disgraceful and they betrayed Pat Tillman in death as they had in life.

Meanwhile, his brothers, his parents, his wife (a girlfriend since grade school) stood tall, showing more courage, class and dignity than a whole Pentagon filled with self-serving, brass-wearing weaklings. It's a sad, frustrating movie that makes one want to scream with impotent rage after realizing the wages of patriotism and honor.

The Tillman Story opens today at the Tivoli

--Joe

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest

People don't come much more well-rounded than Lisbeth Salander. She can hack your computer with one hand, break your arm with the other. She can pleasure your body and mess up your mind. To use popular expressions, she's hard as nails, tough as a boot, quick as a wink, smart as a whip. She is, of course, "The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest," third in the series from the novels by Stieg Larsson.

Once again, Noomi Rapace is Salander. She's not very pretty in the usual sense, and certainly less of a sex symbol than Rooney Mara will be in the American version; Rooney can be seen now as Mark Zuckerberg's girl friend in "The Social Network." But Rapace, with piercing dark eyes and a striking intensity, takes over the role that fits her like a bespoke suit. Even the piercings are apparently re-opened from her younger, Goth-like days.

We open on an immobilized Salander, in a hospital bed under police guard, charged with three murders and a variety of other crimes, including attempted murder on Alexander Zalachenko (Georgi Staykov), who is in a bed just down the hall. Zalachenko is her father, a renegade Russian agent who has been working for an underground rump movement in Sweden.

"Hornet's Nest" may be a little long, but I found it gripping. Then again, I've been a fan since I read the first chapter of the first book. Larsson's detailed, convoluted story about bad things in bad places is brilliant, in my opinion. He keeps track of many people, some on the good side, some on the bad, a few moving back and forth across the narrow line that divides them. Toss in some sex and violence, a heroic newspaper man who is a whiz with the women, complex plotting and excellent characterizations, and you have a winner.

Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyquist) is the writer, the kind of man an adolescent dreamer like myself saw as my own future. He has protected Salander, and been her lover, and has used her as a source for all sorts of information on a looming scandal that will make his new magazine, Millennium, an instant hit. He decided to start his own when his former boss, and lover, Erika Berger (Lena Andre) left the magazine business for another job.

And while Salander is an expert hacker, she isn't invincible, but she has a friend who goes under the name of Plague (Tomas Kohler) and who decries his scruffy appearance with abilities that turn him into a hacker's hacker. He's a major source of information for Blomkvist.

Salander also has the opportunity for revenge against Dr. Peter Teleborian (Anders Ahlbom Rosendahl). Teleborian, a psychiatrist, managed to become Salander's guardian and had the 13-year-old girl committed to a hospital, then abused her in horrific manner. Any revenge she takes is not nearly enough. Larsson crosses his t's and dots his i's in a courtroom scene with Salander, her Mohawk higher than an elephant's eye, her Goth garb a strong fashion and political statement.

Larsson supposedly died right after he delivered the manuscripts to his publisher, which means that the Salander saga ends here, with the villains properly and completely punished. But there have been rumors of more manuscripts found in his computer, and of conflict between some of his family members and his girl friend. Though they had lived together for a number of years, they never married, which means she has no claim on his estate.

Irony always wins.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest opens today at the Plaza Frontenac and Tivoli

--Joe

Eovaldi's Deli

Sometimes the charm of The Hill is elusive, and people need to be reminded just what it is about the neighborhood that's drawn St. Louisans (and others) for almost a century. We needed some lunch and knew that serious sandwiches from Eovaldi's would fill the void. But we missed it the first time, seeing “Oldani Sausage” above the entrance. Don't be misled, as Steve Mizerany would intone, that's Eovaldi's.

For those who wonder what life was like in St. Louis in the Fifties and Sixties, get ye hence. Brown tile walls, four tables, plenty of photos of ancestors and old newspaper clippings, and lots of regulars, most of whom get takeout. The menu offers salad, pasta and pizzas, but on both our visits, we never saw anyone ordering them.

From the cold sandwich selection, we started with a muffaletta. Yes, it's associated with New Orleans, but that city has a history of Italian delis that feed folks well. And after all, what is a muffaletta but a hero/sub/hoagie sandwich on round bread. Olive salad? As Italian as the Uffizi Gallery. Its presence here is quite legitimate, and so is its flavor, including a punch from pepper cheese along with salami, coppa, mortadella and provolone. The olive salad is the crowning touch, nicely sharp.

We firmly believe that sandwiches of this type do not associate themselves with mayonnaise, although Eovaldi's offers it. Everything, of course, is made to order in a kitchen not much larger than a closet. But we loved the New York Style Special, ham, salami, coppa, provolone, lettuce, tomato and onion. And a vinaigrette dressing. This is an excellent sandwich, carefully constructed, with everything in balance, including lettuce. Too many places pile on lettuce by the handful. It's supposed to be an accessory, not the whole dress.

 

Hot sandwiches? Yes, please. The meatball and sausage sandwich, known as the Daddy, charmed with salsiccia laced with fennel lounging alongside luscious slices of tender, well seasoned meatballs, all topped with the house tomato sauce. And then there was the Sicilian Bomber. No anarchy here, just roast beef and pepper cheese topped with another red sauce, this one chunky with onions, mushrooms and peppers, the whole thing crowned with a few slices of salami. Messy to eat but filled with marvelous flavors that just kept rolling around in the mouth.

Waiting for sandwiches, we also had a cup of vegetable barley soup, dense with vegetables, some beef and barley here and there. Fine for a chilly day's lunch.

Sandwiches are available in several sizes and prices here are based on “whole,” or nine inches. Various types of sausage, all made by Oldani, wait in the freezer case, as does the pizza. And there's a second location, in the Joseph White building at 1740 South Brentwood Boulevard, where they have set up shop inside the Double D bar, where they open for lunch and close before the bar opens.

 

Eovaldi's Deli

2201 Edwards Ave.

314-771-5707

www.delionthehill.com

Lunch Mon.-Sat.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: No

Smoking: No

Sandwiches: $4-$11

The Chosen

In a community with three Jews there are four synagogues--one for the divergent faiths held by each, and a fourth one to provide the space where none of them would be caught dead. These attitudes, harder than pressed steel or a jilted lover's heart, are on display in "The Chosen," a powerful, passionate adaptation of Chaim Potok's novel by the Mustard Seed Theatre at Fontbonne University.

The searing drama, adapted for the stage by Aaron Posner, opened last night and will run through Nov. 7. "My Name is Asher Lev," also based on a Potok novel, is in its final weekend by the New Jewish Theatre, and Adena Potok, the author's widow, spoke last night at Fontbonne and will repeat tonight at the Jewish Comunity Center.

Nothing in the history of the world divides people more or creates more turmoil than religion, and Potok (who also was a rabbi) shows it beautifully in a Brooklyn neighborhood during and shortly after World War II. Deanna Jent's direction is perfectly on target and Courtney Sanzaro's gorgeous set provides the proper aura for the evening.

The home of David Malter (Jim Leibrecht), a liberal activist and Zionist, working toward a Jewish state, is cluttered with books and papers, all of them obviously read and loved. In contrast, the study of Reb Saunders, leader of the ultra-conservative Hasidim , has tall, elegant, austere bookshelves with hundreds of books that are dusted but never read. Saunders reads, and lives by, the Torah and the Talmud. The former comprises the first five books of the Bible; the latter explains the former in lengthy essays. In the end they deliver God's messages to Saunders, and he passes them on to his congregation. No one disagrees. No one deviates.

Saunders, a ringing, powerful performance by Richard Lewis, treats his son the same way. Danny (David Chandler) will be a Hasidic rabbi, a successor to his father, but the boy is not sure. He lives in a world of silence; father and son rarely speak, and never about anything important. Danny's world begins to open on a baseball diamond when his yeshiva plays baseball against young Reuven Malter's yeshiva, and Saunders hits a line drive that pitcher Malter takes in the right eye.

In an interesting approach, two actors portray Reuven Malter and there is occasionally a little confusion. Adam Moskal is Reuven for the time-span of the play and he's very good, with chubby pink cheeks that add a perfect glow. Justin Ivan Brown is a fine older Reuven, looking back through time (maybe 20 years) to explain, narrate and occasionally portray another person. It's a difficult part, and Brown handles it extremely well, though it sometimes took me aback when they both were speaking, practically a dialogue.

Reuven and Danny become friends, with the eventual blessing of both fathers, and the Rebbe, when he discovers that Reuven is about as smart as his own son, uses him as a conduit to send information to Danny, and to seek information as well. At one point, when the Rebbe discovers Malter's strong Zionism, he breaks off the friendship between Danny and Reuven, and the scene is directed as a brilliant understatement.

The acting is solid throughout the cast, and the play also benefits from Michael Sullivan's sparkling lighting design. Sullivan lit Hot City's "Equus" recently, and did it to glorious effect. It's a strong, impressive production.

And as the lights went down for the final time, Mrs. Potok, who was sitting behind me, whispered the last word. "Bravo," she said. This critic agrees.

The Chosen, a production of Mustard Seed Theatre, opened last night at Fontbonne University, and will play through Nov. 7

The Army of Crime

Based on the exploits of a real group of non-French refugees living and fighting in occupied Paris during World War II, "The Army of Crime," which opens today, is a powerful, gripping story of man's inhumanity to man, of dedicated partisans and disgraceful collaborators. It's a tragedy, as it had to be, but it's a rich, many-layered tale of what humans will endure in a fight for freedom, even a losing fight.

And even though we know something of the final tragedy of this French film, director Robert Guediguian has provided back stories about some of the 22 men and one woman who comprised the group. It makes for a gripping tale and a fascinating movie. The opening scene shows the 23 boarding buses as the roll is called, and we then flash back to the early days of the war.

The men and women of this "army," were not French, but refugees from Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Romania, the Balkans. Some were Jews, some were Communists. They had gathered in France because they were offered refuge during the 1930s, but they were so violently angered by French collaboration that they took it on themselves to fight the Germans.

Undisciplined, uncoordinated, they fought as individuals, like Marcel Rayman, a Polish swimmer, who would walk up to German soldiers or policemen on streets after dark, ask for a light for a cigarette and, when the German was distracted, would pull a gun and kill at close range.

But there was some organization among them, and soon the Armenian poet, Missak Manouchian (a real person) became the leader. Simon Abkarian is wonderful in the role, a man who believes in poetry and conversation, but who is changed by the time and the place in which he finds himself. Virginie Ledoyen is outstanding as his wife, Melinee. Their love story is rare in the annals of movies; it is deep, and real, and their acting shows two people whose love is all-important, especially in a time of crisis, but can be put aside when duty, loyalty and humanity call.

The most interesting thing about "Army of Crime," is the ordinary daily action of the guerillas, and of life around them. Young men work, often with their parents, then go off at night to sabotage trains and kill Germans. Buses filled with yellow star-wearing Jews roll through the streets in broad daylight, taking their passengers to the railroad station and the express to Dachau and Bergen-Belsen. Thomas Elek (Gregoire Leprince) is a fine example. His mother works as a seamstress, his parents prefer to stay ignorant of what he does. His girl friend, the sexy red-haired Monique (Lola Naymark), knows, and even takes out what she thinks is an insurance policy, going to bed with an evil French police inspector (Jean-Pierre Darroussin) on his promise that Thomas will be protected.

A modicum of murder and mayhem goes unpunished, but when members of the FTP-MOL, as the freedom fighters' organization is named, assassinate a top German general and a great deal of publicity is generated, the Germans go into action, using French collaborators and their own intelligence staff to start rounding up the "army," hanging posters that vilify the guerillas as Communists, using torture on one man to get the name of the next. Scenes with blowtorches and sharp knives are not very pretty.

Serge Le Peron wrote the original story, teamed with Gilles Taurand and director Robert Guediguian on the screenplay. Guediguian's direction focuses tightly on the various characters, makes Paris part of the plot and generally makes the time and the action as if they were today. A brilliant film.

Army of Crime opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Stone

Hardly anyone portrays evil the way Edward Norton can, and he's at the top of his game in "Stone," which opens today. Paired with Robert De Niro, playing off-type, Norton brings a lot to the title role in a movie that makes us think of Raymond Chandler, James M. Cain and Dashiell Hanmett, those masters of crime novels and sources for great movies a couple of generations back.

Stone is doing time for an arson-murder, and he's eligible for parole. De Niro, as Jack Mabry, is an about-to-retire prison administrator, and Stone is his last case. Stone has problems with his hair-trigger temper, which has been an obstacle in the past, but he seems to have his act together now, and the road looks smooth.

Mabry is the puzzle. He and his wife (the excellent Frances Conroy) live very quietly in a frame house, eating and chatting like any middle-aged couple. An off-note, however, is the constant voice of Christian radio, softly, but always there. Same sound in his car while he drives to and from the prison. He seems always calm, not necessarily placid but calm. Either there is nothing inside or a great deal, spinning so rapidly it is soundless.

Stone is prison-smart. And he has a wife, Lucetta (the gorgeous Milla Jovovich), who is desperately in love with this corn-rowed, tattooed tough guy. She knows her man is close to parole, and she decides that making a pitch to the parole administrator might help. Jovovich is wonderful, in the style of the slightly wanton actresses from a couple of generations back, women like Loretta Young, Gloria Grahame and Barbara Stanwyck, to name a few.

Angus MacLachlan's screenplay is trim and on the mark, with no wasted time or words; John Curran brings the same sensibility and economy to his direction. A little predictable here and there, but a fine, taut drama.

Stone opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Conviction

One of the big problems of movies that are based on real stories is that there is not as much suspense as is necessary to keep the motor of the viewer's imagination running fast enough. It's fun to think of alternate plot lines, to see a character in a different light, to keep involved in the action. When the story is true and the ending is assured, well, boredom comes easily, no matter how much writing and editing have been done to make the hero, or the heroine, more interesting.

Such is the case with "Conviction,"opening today. It's built around the efforts of Betty Anne Waters (a very stubborn and dedicated Hilary Swank) to overturn a murder conviction of her brother, Kenny (first-rate work from Sam Rockwell). As children, portrayed excellently by Bailee Madison and Tobias Campbell, they are largely ignored by a strung-out, uncaring mother (Clea Du Val), and they spend a lot of time involved in serious mischief. They steal candy from stores, break into empty houses to eat it, for example. They fight as a team, and they are difficult to handle. Eventually, they are separated and sent to foster care.

But the bond remains extremely strong whenever they are together. Kenny's hair-trigger temper, as shown in a barroom brawl, causes many problems, but Betty Anne has his back, both literally and figuratively. When he is convicted of murder, she goes to law school.

"Conviction" is a heart-warming story of friends and loyalty, of do-gooders who do lots of good. Minnie Driver is her friend, Abra, who puts up with a lot of nonsense from Betty Anne but who remains more loyal than Betty Anne deserves. Peter Gallagher is Barry Scheck, who leads the Innocence Project and helps free wrongly convicted people. And on the other side of the coin, Juliette Lewis is a delight as Kenny's former girl friend and Melissa Leo is almost as stubborn as Betty Anne as a cop trying to get Kenny into prison. And then there's Ari Graynor as Kenny's daughter, carrying her own little sub-plot in a green and yellow basket.

It's nice to see justice triumph, but it seems like a long and winding trail.

Conviction opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Freakonomics

Let me try to explain a little about "Freakonomics," one of this week's new movies: When I was in college, a prerequisite for journalism students was a 7:30 a.m., three-day-a-week course called Economics 51, taught by a professor named Harry Gunnison Brown. Brown was a fan of an economist named Henry George, a man who believed that a tax on land was the only necessary tax. That's what he taught. All I learned, which I promptly forgot, had to do with the single tax.

So I know almost nothing about economics, but I do know economists are strange, and when they're trying to be funny, as in "Freakonomics," they're stranger still, and less funny.

Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner wrote the book, looking at some economic anomalies and some funny/silly theories. So we have five segments, with Levitt and Dubner taklking and introducing each, talking about various theories. Some make sense to me; others do not. It's like sitting in a boring lecture hall.

One segment debates names and what attributes they give off (racial stereotyping here), another discusses whether bribing a child makes him/her do better in school (paying for grades and does it bring results; sometimes yes, sometimes no). Alex Gibney looks at the sumo wrestling culture in Japan and its supposedly rigged results.

In all these little vignettes, I don't see enough evidence to come to a conclusion. As usual, figures don't lie, but liars figure, and we are left with a feeling that if these guys are trying to explain what is happening in the world today, no wonder we don't understand and no wonder things are not getting any better.

Freakonomics opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Wine: October 21, 2010

Adam LaZarre fits the mental picture of a California winemaker, or at least a Californian, with light brown, shaggy, collar-length hair highighted by sun-bleached streaks, smile lines creasing pinkish cheeks, a joyful tone when he talks about wine--any wine-- hands comfortable with the most delicate of crystal wine glasses.

He sat across a table at Wine Styles, a West County retail store, and he squinted as the late-afternoon sun poured through a window.

LaZarre is the winemaker at Villa San-Juliette, a Paso Robles County winery that is a relative rookie in the wine world. Its products, a mostly under-$20 selection of four reds and a Sauvignon Blanc, have been on the market only a couple of years; all are fresh and clean-tasting, with good fruit. The winery is owned by Nigel Lithgoe and Ken Warwick, a pair of Englishmen--Liverpudlians like the Beatles, as a matter of fact--who have hit it big in the world of television as producers of "American Idol" and "So You Think You Can Dance."

And like so many people who go to California and find some excess cash, they decided to go into the wine business. Lithgoe and Warwick bought 168 acres near the town of San Miguel, east of the famed Hearst Castle in San Simeon. LaZarre, a 20-year veteran of the California industry, became the head winemaker, following eight years in a similar role at Hahn Estates Winery in Monterey. LaZarre developed an interest in wine while in the U. S. Navy on the Pacific Coast and after his discharge he enrolled in the enology program at Fresno State University. Like most winemakers, he advanced through the ranks at several wineries, learning varying philosophies and techniques along the way.

He thinks Paso Robles is a splendid place for grapes and wine, and that Villa San-Juliette will be a major player. He also has high hopes for the 2010 vintage, especially the Sauvignon Blanc and the Syrah, which also is a key ingredient of the winery's proprietary blend, Chorum.

"We have nine acres of Syrah," LaZarre said happily, "and we use much of it for the Chorum; it was excellent in the last three years and this year looks as good, or better. The sugars keep going up. The same thing happened with our Sauvignon Blanc, with sugars up and ph down. we picked at 23 or 24 brix and we're looking for good things." The '08 is beautifully fragrant, partly from two months of fermentation at cool temperatures and no malolactic fermentation. Grapefruit and melon are noticeable on the palate.

Interestingly, LaZarre blends some Tempranillo (8 percent) with his Cabernet Sauvignon, and the result is an interesting taste, slightly lighter, intriguing, almost frisky. He also adds some Cab to his Merlot and Petite Sirah, contributing a little more body to the tasty offerings.

But the Chorum, a proprietary wine, is his baby. He describes it as "dense, lush and velvety," which I consider a good description of a wine that is a wonderful value at under $25.

Syrah (31 percent) is the principal grape, but LaZarre then adds Cabernet Sauvignon (28), Merlot (20), Petite Sirah (10), Tempranillo (7), Mourvedre (3) and Petit Verdot (1). It's a big, rich wine, and the 2008, though very good, remains young, probably needing a year or so in the bottle. Then it will improve for many years, shedding its hard edge and becoming exactly what LaZarre claims. There's a touch of tobacco in the finish, which lasts a long and lovely time. Superior stuff.

TASTING NOTES FROM ALL OVER:

Concannon Vineyard--With more than 150 years in the Livermore Valley, the Concannon family offers some first-rate wines in its Conservancy group, in the $15 range. A couple of reds, a Merlot and a Cabernet Sauvignon from 2007, lead the way. The former, with 10 percent Cab for richness, shows dark cherry and blueberry aromas, a touch of tobacco on the tongue, a pleasing finish. The Cab, with 7 percent Syrah for smoothness, is dark and rich, and will be good company with prime rib or a good sirloin.

Zaca Mesa Winery & Vineyards--Based in the Santa Ynez Valley of Santa Barbara County,  Zaca Mesa grows a lot of Rhone Valley grapes, including the tasty and versatile Roussane, a white wine with a hint of mineral that makes it work well with many dishes. It is bold enough to complement even richer fish like mackerel, and it's a fine match with roast chicken. Nice oak feeling in the flavor, and excellent alcohol-acid balance. About $25.

Clos du Bois--A veteran Sonoma County winery has an excellent '09 White Riesling ($12) that is an asset to Asian foods, especially those with some spice. A hint of sweetness cuts into the fire and blends nicely with Hunan or Sezchuan fare. Hints of mineral and grapefruit, and a smooth finish are among its assets. A 2007 north coast Merlot ($15) brings dark, plummy flavor and a long finish, just right to accompany a meat loaf.

Frei Brothers--Speaking of Merlot, Frei Brothers (one of the Gallo labels) offers a dandy Merlot ($20) from the same year, with grapes from northern Sonoma County. not that far from the North Coast appellation of Clos du Bois. The Frei Brothers were pioneer growers in northern California, and when Gallo bought the property, they took bulldozers to it and realigned a lot of the vineyards, making good grapes better. The Merlot has a lot of plum and black cherry to the aroma and flavor, and it's soft and very tasty. Merlot and meat loaf is not only an alliterative pairing, but a fine one on the dining table.

-Joe