Temptation Island

I didn't know I was heading to Coney Island on such a momentous weekend but, as it turns out, it was not only the last weekend of the summer but the last weekend ever that Astroland would be open. My mom and I had Nathan's hot dogs (of course), rode the Flume, walked on the beach and checked out the Freak (but failed to shoot him). I still have never been on the Cyclone but I'm hoping it'll stay open a little longer - at least as long as its rickety legs hold it up.

Valley Girl

British Columbians and the Quebecois (my people, for better or worse) have something in common: a separatist movement that can spark heated political discussion at even the most convivial of dinner tables. While Quebec's nationalist fever has somewhat cooled over the last decade, I've met a number of British Columbians who still feel as though their geographical location at the extremity of such a large country has distanced them political, socially and financially from Canada's center, where the government is based. And this, many will tell you, is why you won't find many B.C. wines on U.S. wine lists. They aren't privy to the sort funding required to market their wines abroad. This is already changing - and the process might be sped up thanks to, ahem, yours truly. I accidentally sparked an argument between one of the province's preeminent wine experts and the New York Canadian Trade Commissioner that turned ugly before turning nice, and I can only hope some good will come of it.

In any case, the region is amazing. Set against a dramatic background of roughhewn mountains like sleeping prehistoric beasts, sagebrush-speckled desert, and rock that is as old as any on the planet, it's not your average place to grow vines. Most viticulturalists are forced to deal with changing temperatures, moisture and birds. Add deer, elk, and bears to the equation (oh, and why not throw in snow, and temperatures that peak in the 130-degree-Fahrenheit range) and you've got B.C. wine country. The Okanagan Valley, some 200 miles east of Vancouver, is producing wonderful and unconventional wines at mind-boggling prices, as well as serving up forward-thinking food based on local and indigenous ingredients.

I tasted all sorts of unusual varietals here, like Chasselas, Ehrenfelser and Carmenere, alongside Pinots, Chards, Cabs and Merlots. The winemakers I met liked to say they were still experimenting. The wines were paired with caribou sausage and grilled bison, as well as illicit unpasteurized cheeses smuggled cross-country from Quebec. Standout wines included Quail's Gate Rose (highly mineral with jalapeno notes), Cedar Creek Syrah (blended with Viognier for the aromatics), and a funky Burrowing Owl Pinot Noir (that I tasted with the enthusiastic pot-head of an assistant winemaker). Unlike other wine regions, after a day of tasting you can hike untouched wilderness or hire a kayak to take out on the lake, which is big enough to house its very own Loch Ness monster: Ogopogo. Wild Western Canada.

Falls Girl

I have to be honest here. I didn't have great expectations for the Niagara wine region. As a Quebecoise, I have a predisposed aversion to all things Ontarian. And, furthermore, my preconceived notions about the climate and, quite frankly, sophistication, of the region left me hoping to just not be embarrassed for my Anglophone neighbors. And, while certain wineries I visited failed to impress (Pelham, Inniskillin), others succeeded with flying colors. Particularly, Stratus (pictured), wowed with its Scott Henry trellis system, and low-tech, high-minded gravity-based vinification process. Winemaker, J. L. Groulx gave an enthusiastic tour of the facility in his faint Loire Valley accent, big grey beard fluttering with pride about what I must agree is the cleanest winery I've ever seen. Ironically, the assemblages, which are the specialties, were less exciting than the Cab Franc, a dark and pretty wine with red fruit, spicy notes and great balance and texture. Pellar Estates served up decent wines, but the meal of ice wine-infused dishes was amazing and entirely comprised of local ingredients. And Marynissen Estates' Cab/Merlot blend was probably the best value in the whole of Niagara at $15 a bottle. As for my lifetime of Ontario-bashing, all I can say is I'm sorry. You squareheads are alright.

Northern Exposure

I was recently in Canadian wine country, both Niagara and the Okanagan Valley. There were cooky varietals, like Chasselas, Ehrenfelser and Carmenere, innovative techniques like the Scott Henry trellis system, and a lot of experimentation in everything from blends (a little Viognier in your Cab Franc?) to pairing (a little ice wine with, er every freaking course?) I found this super cute mini press at Peller Estates in Niagara, actually used out in the vineyards to crush grapes as soon as they're picked. Also makes for a great magazine rack - you know, for all those Gourmets and Wine Spectators you let pile up.

In The City

It never rains in L.A., we were told. But apparently, it does in Culver City, that stretch of land between Venice and Beverly Hills. My friend, Jennie, and I were cruising to the oldies, convertible top down and fancy-free until, low and behold, the clouds opened up and dumped fat rain on our uncovered heads. Fellow drivers pointed and laughed. We cowered, still wearing sunglasses. We got soaked, even though it only lasted a minute. Culver City was worth it, however, with cured meats and buratta at Ford's Filling Station and organic bar food and drinks at Akasha. The art space my friend, Nina, works at, Royal/T, was serving up free gelato from Ugo and house espresso martinis, which also helped turn our frowns upside down.

La La Land

I normally would never endorse sangria of any color, but this white version with its healthy dose of Triple Sec, soda top, and mountain of citrus was the ideal pairing for the perfect, pink sunsets I enjoyed nightly at my friend, Nina's, place in Silverlake. Never mind that her back porch is the size of my apartment.