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One  of my favorite neighborhoods in Ciutat de Palma, or Palma de Mallorca, is Santa Catalina, across the way from Paseo de Mallorca and Carrer Jaume III, one of the city’s most elegant shopping streets. The reason I like this area so much is that is so truly local. There are no pretensions to it, with families living in modest three and four-story buildings, mingling with a sprinkling of foreigners from the boats down at the nearby bay. However, the neighborhood is slowly changing, with a wide selection of restaurants and cafés, offering both Spanish fare and tasty international cuisine—African, Thai, Indian, Japanese. There’s even an American-style diner, just down the street from a century-old hardware store esconced in the bottom floor of Art Nouveau building. Among my favorite restaurants are Monolisto, Zanzibar and Wasabi, a very good Japanese restaurant with a creative twist.

The focal point of the neighborhood is the Mercado de Santa Catalina, which offers fish, meat, fruit and vegetables, as well as the latest gourmet products, wines, flavored salts and olive oil all from Mallorca. The flavored salts, which you can now find in most specialty shops on the island, are Flor de Sal d’Es Trenc by Gusto Mundial Balearides and are made with black olives, hibiscus flower, orange and chili pepper, or rose petals. Much of the olive oil is from Soller, a town with large extensions of olive and orange groves. And the wine might be from Pla i Llevant or Binissalem, two of the principal wine regions on Mallorca. Although nowadays, you may find some of their competition from the Tramuntana i Costa Nord.

Radiating out from the market are the streets leading to some of the key areas of Santa Catalina. Such as El Jonquet, a quaint community overlooking the sea which was originally the home of fishermen and their families who first settled in the neighborhood, its name probably stemming from the “juncal”, the rushes that grew in profusion along the shoreline. Or Plaza del Progreso, a charming plaza and park where children play in the playground and old men play “petanca” in the evenings, and that is perched right on Calle Comte de Barcelona, the main artery which leads in one way towards Plaza Gomila, El Terreno and beyond to Cala Major and the freeway to Andratx, and in the opposite direction towards the center of the city.

According to a walking book of Palma I just purchased, in mallorquín (the local language of the island, closely tied to Catalán), the neighborhood of Santa Catalina has quite a few architectural highlights to be appreciated. In case you’re interested, the book is titled Palma a peu. Ciutat passa a passa, by Miquel Ferrà i Martorell. One of the author’s suggestions is to walk along the Carrer de Sant Matgí (or Calle de San Magí in Spanish), central to the area of El Jonquet and the oldest street in the neighborhood, dating from the 18th century. He of course mentions the hardware store, Ferreteria La Central, with its splendid arches and elaborate ironwork design. Another significant building, in front of the Sant Matgí church which gives the street its name, is the Mar y Tierra building with Neoclassic design and a playful interior designed in honor of one of Jules Verne’s tales. From there, you might want to walk along Avinguda Argentina, take a rest in the park there, Sa Faixina, and then venture on down, past the Hostal Cuba, which dates from 1904 and is named in honor of Spain’s ties with the Caribbean country and now restored into a chic corner café and hotel, along to the Passeig Marítim, to see the boats and yachts, and back up towards Plaça d’es Pont, where you can stop for ice cream or for a coffee. Once back into the heart of Santa Catalina, and along Carrer de Villalonga, you can step into the church del Carme, a Neogothic structure which is home to a sculpture of Mary by the Catalán artist Josep Llimona. Just down the street are some well-preserved windmills, now turned into restaurants and bars and which recall the neighborhood’s rural past.

For photo’s of the neighborhood and some of these monuments, visit the Mallorca Daily Photo Blog.

This is the first in a series of “Wineglass Travel” by Deborah Hansen of Taberna de Haro tapas restaurant in Boston, Massachusetts.

I feel like I took “Aerolineas Mas Roig” to Monsant, that lovely D.O. in Spain that often plays second fiddle its more-renown neighbor, Priorat.  Montsant became a D.O. in 2001, and was formerly referred to as  “Zona Falset” in the D.O. Tarragona.  This week I tried four wines from Celler el Masroig, a winery founded in 1917 in the southern part of Montsant, near Bellmunt del Priorat.  Each glass transported me to a sunny, breezy place, steeped in wine tradition, just about 40 km.  from the Mediterranean in Tarragona, Spain. 

An excruciating, 82 degree,  two-day heat wave last week got me plunging any eligible red wine into an ice bucket. The mere sight of the perspiring bottle on my table 15 minutes later would start to refresh me.  What makes a red “eligible” for chilling you ask?  You need not apply for time in my ice bucket unless you are a red wine that is fresh, lively, and nicely fruited.  This means you were made with perfectly ripened grapes, and not left to hang heavy and overly sweet on your vine  for the purpose of a concentrated, alcoholic wine.  You are young - just two or three years old at most, and your bright acidity still makes my mouth water.  You’ve spent no time in oak - you’re a proud, old-fashioned cement-made classic, or a cool, stainless-steel tank beauty.  And your makers have a profound respect for the particular soil that dirties and nurtures your roots, the long tradition of your birthplace, the natural yeasts in your midst, and the weather Mother Nature chose to shake loose throughout that vintage.  Under these circumstances, I’m delighted to share my summer fare with you, no matter how grilled, spicy, pickled, marinated, pungent, exotic, or smoky it may be. 

When I opened my first bottle of Les Sorts Jove 2009 by Celler el Masroig, I unleashed a bouquet of ripe strawberry, spiced crabapples, and crushed stones.  Just what I wanted with my escabeche de capon, a centuries-old recipe from Spain consisting of cold, marinated capon over dressed greens.  The zing of vinegar, so typical in summery Spanish dishes, would clash with most oaky reds, but seemed to invite the Jove to dance. The slightly-tart berry lilt of the wine got livelier with the tender yet tangy bird. Another aroma arose, unexpected yet intriguing, that of Ivory soap.  Really.  Clean, lightly and lightly perfumed.  Then roses, dark chocolate, and black pepper cascaded behind that. The indigenous varietals cariñena and garnatxa (the Catalán spelling of garnacha) are blended with a splash of syrah in this fresh and floral wine.  The fermentation is carbonic maceration, or “whole cluster”, a technique whereby only a few of the grapes get crushed (the ones on the bottom of the pile of clusters) and the majority of the fermentation actually happens within the walls of each (uncrushed) grape. In the Jove 2009, this carbonic maceration went on for seven days, then the grapes were pressed, whereupon the alcoholic fermentation was allowed to finish slowly in underground tanks (for coolness) without the skins.  The result is a startling purity of grape flavor  with a dusting of tannins in on the sunshine-y fruit, and a tiny note of  yeast.  It is worth noting that only indigenous, naturally occurring-yeasts  (as opposed to laboratory strains, often chosen for predictability) are used here. Delicious, natural, terroir-driven wines, fermented with indigenous yeasts, tend to soar above the competition, and this is no exception!

Another decidedly chillable red from Celler el Masroig is the Solá Fred 2008.  “Solá” means sunny and “Fred” means cold, so if you speak Catalán you are ready for the dichotomies within this wine that was grown on the coolest yet sunniest slope of the vineyard.  Although the site sits on a south-west facing slope, the nearby Montsant mountain range shades the  vineyard much of the day.  Made from 90% cariñena and 10% garnatxa grapes, Solá Fred exudes aromas of blackberry, slate, and unsweetened cocoa powder.  It is thoroughly  refreshing, resonating  with the vibrant purity of un-oaked, cool-vinified juice.  The wine was bottled soon after fermentation, in January, to capture the fresh fruit essence of this privileged vineyard. Grounded in limestone, slate and chalk,  the grapevines of Solá Fred enjoy daily heat for thorough ripening, balanced by daily coolness for silent repose and phenolic development. Now back to the glass of wine before me. Black currants are a big part of the fruit profile here, but they are vibrant and not cloying.  Again, the natural acidity of the grapes is perfectly preserved, and Solá Fred mingled beautifully with my codorniz a xocolat, a quail in dark chocolate sauce, even increasing in complexity and depth as the glass faded to empty.

The Les Sorts rosát 2009, also from Celler el Masroig, didn’t have to earn its place in my ice bucket, it was an automatic chiller given its pale hue. However it quickly earned a place on my summer picnic table!  The indigenous grapes  garnatxa (90%) and cariñena  (10%)  are left in contact with their skins for ten hours, creating  a full-bodied, ruby of a rosé -  a gem indeed.  The underpinnings of slate and granite are apparent, cold and hard under a smooth sash of strawberry and red currant.  It’s summer whenever you put such a glowing pink wine in your glass, and the distinctive flavors of rosát from this corner of the wine-world conjure up memories of a particularly hot summer eve in Falset, Spain when I drank it for the first time.  Wines from both Montsant and Priorat used to come to Boston exclusively in their dark, red-black form.  (Not complaining about these spectacular, singular wines, mind you!).  A scant few whites showed up now and again, but rosé from Priorat and Montsant was practically unheard of on our shores.  You had to travel  there to experience this rosy, berry, slate-slapped refreshment, rounder and more playful than her French counterparts, yet still elegant and complex.  Travel there I did, and on a sultry summer night I fell simultaneously - and irrevocably! -  in love with a boy and a new style of wine.  The depth of color in these wines is about six shades darker than most rosés, and the fragrance of carefully-ripened fruit dusted with slate shales is always present. The July sun in Spain at eight p.m. is still a force to be reckoned with, and my hot love and I could no sooner have drunk a big, lush, red Priorat than run a marathon.  Rosé was the logical choice, and we were smitten! Wine truly does conjure up a place, when well-made.  There is almost nowhere on earth we could have been at that time and be experiencing that wine.  The reality of the long journey we had undertaken (Boston to Falset!) was magnified by the larger-than-life flavor profile of this style of rosé.  Is this an unfair memory backdrop by which to taste?  Perhaps.  But I stand by my declaration that rosés from Priorat and Montsant are worth seeking out, and Les Sorts rosat 2009 is one elegant bunch of sun-kissed berries, and perfect terroir, a true-love wine.

We take greater pleasure  in white wines in late spring and summer, especially during those infernal heat waves that happen in June in New England.  Les Sorts blanc 2007 was there for me when I needed her.  Grown on the granite and limestone of Falset, Garnatxa blanc grapes from thirty five- and sixty- year old vines were fermented in stainless steel and then passed to oak barrels (25% American, 75% French) and left to age on their lees for 5 months, with regular batonnage.  Redolent of apple peels, beeswax, and lanolin, the wine continues to blossom with complexity in the mouth with summery notes of fresh chamomile, hay, and quince.  She is a complex, elegant guest at your dinner party, especially one that includes wine-pairing challenges such as lemon-marinated fried fish, or endive salad with cabrales, the feistiest of blue cheeses, from Asturias, Spain.

Summer always means a shift in wine-style consumption, and I’m always looking for wines lighter in alcohol and enhanced by a proper chill.  Young reds need only fifteen minutes in an ice-water bath to coax out the fresh fruit and subtle fragrances that were so carefully bottled for you.  Chances are on a hot day your bottle of red is way above the ideal 66 degree drinking temperature, anyway, so consider a pause and a plunge! Any un-oaked, young red will glow with this treatment, just as whites and rosés do.  The fresh, pristine wines of Celler el Masroig, born in such a warm place, provide complex yet pleasurable refreshment that evokes a real place on earth, a place worth traveling to via conventional wheels and motors or simply by wine glass and imagination!

By: Deborah Hansen

     Chef-owner-sommelier of Taberna de Haro, Brookline, Massachusetts

The enormous structure is made up of twisted cable, broken tile, slapdash cement, brick and plenty of blue painted iron. It looks like a child’s sandcastle, or a lopping Lego building, with brilliant flashes of beauty. This is the cathedral that Justo Gallego has been building for over 40 years with his bare hands in the otherwise dreary little town of Mejorada del Campo, 20 kilometers from Madrid. Gallego is now about to turn 85, he’s a tiny little man dressed in a monk’s black livery, and adorned with a round red knit cap, who sweeps away the dust and dirt as tourists come and go inspecting every inch of his creation. The monument is sturdy and, yet, because of its haphazard design, the visitor feels as if at any moment the ceilings and floors will cave in like a house of cards. It truly is like walking around inside a child’s construction, built by his wits and vivid imagination. As you enter, to your left, there is a typed sign that explains Justo’s life and vision, in the first person. He’s gotten tired of talking to every single visitor who comes to the building, it would seem, and prefers to be silent and let his work speak for him. There is also a large glass framed board covered in collage style with articles in a variety of languages about his cathedral. And messages here and there, written in paint or chalk, asking for donations or help of any kind so that he can complete his life’s work. Even a slip of a book, more of a leaflet, is for sale for 15€. A group of well-dressed and well-heeled women, of the classic Catholic conservative type, tastefully tinted blond, with expensive watches and haughty tones circled the monk and drilled him with their pointed questions. He broke his monk-like silence and proceeded to retell his vision and quest, in what seemed an endless flow, as “mad” as Don Quixote describing Dulcinea. In the meantime, the rest of the visitors streamed in and out, up and down the cement and tile steps, through labyrinth-like passageways, in and around the truly eye-popping building. It has been a long time since I have felt so amazed, since I have looked with such wonder at any form of creation. How to describe it? Like an amateurish Gaudi, yet built with true conviction. A disaster of stone and cement, a mess of tools and paper and wreckage, yet stunningly beautiful, airy and full of light, with splashes of warm color from the stained glass stuck in here and there. I could make a pilgrimage there every once in awhile just to sit in one of the abandoned theater seats that adorn it here and there, and read quietly, be silent there, bathe in the madness of the construction which inspires one to create for oneself.

Justo’s persona and his work remind me of the creative geniuses and madmen who have made Spain so unique–figures such as Cervantes, Goya, Gaudi, Picasso and even the chef Ferrán and the filmmaker Almodóvar, all of whom worked at the margins of the norms of their society, with an individualistic attitude and approach to their work which finally and paradoxically so characterizes the country. I say paradoxically, especially now, because I get the impression that Spaniards may no longer recognize what they are, so absorbed is the country in mimicking the social, economic and aesthetic tendencies of Europe and the U.S. Sure, bullfights are still hot, tapas are their gourmet gift to the world and sevillanas and flamenco are in full swing, but the essence of what is Spanish, this spark of locura, does not seem there. Then again, maybe the artist, truly creative person, is always isolated somewhat from the society at large, an anormal figure on an otherwise unremarkable landscape, just as Justo’s magnificent structure of spiraling wire and blue painted iron is a touch of the eccentric in a quiet, plain town.

Below a quick video about Justo Gallego and his creation, in an ad for a famous softdrink, Aquarius:

The resilience of this thousand-year old practice can be seen at its most manifest in the form it takes in the urban environment. And the fullest expression of this is a relatively new practice center that I was introduced to recently: City Yoga.

I went there to try out an intensive practice given by Lauren Imparato of I.AM.YOU studio. Lauren’s yoga studio is in Little Italy, NYC, but she’s also decided to make it a traveling stage–and impart her particular style in Madrid, Palma de Mallorca and Florence, cities I imagine she is also rather partial to because of her own life experience.

Not only was I impressed by this particular guest teacher and her kick-your-asana hip yet knowledgeable yoga, it was the City Yoga space itself that got my attention.

As soon as I walked in, I could feel how much care had been put into the design, the organization of the different spaces, and the course program. I’m no earth-mother yogi, I don’t even practice half as much as I’d like to or probably should to even say I do anything at all. But I can feel a good vibe when I encounter one, and this center has it. But not just that, it’s organized and original and dynamic, and that is to be appreciated.

To be noted are the variety of different forms of yoga offered, from traditional to dynamic or power yoga, as well as the caliber of the guest teachers, which include Shiva Rea and Godfrey Devereux, two powerhouses in the yoga community.

If you want a good yoga or pilates experience, this is one good place to go.

C/ Artistas, 43  28020 -   Madrid - Tel.: 91 553 47 51 (near Cuatro Caminos)

We could spend hours alone just tasting and discussing albarino, that beautiful varietal that is subtly tropical and boldly mineral from Rias Baixas, Galicia.  I love her miracle - a grape grown in a cool and rainy place on the Atlantic that expresses sunshine through aromas of passion fruit, pineapple, and lychee.  Old trellises lift vines to a lofty and healthy place six feet above the damp ground, and the granite posts that support them add minerals to the soil.  Shells are added to soils to augment the already fossil-laden character of the earth.  

However, there is a wide and welcoming array of wines to be tasted from Galicia right now.  It’s the Sleeping Beauty fairytale for those grown-ups with a predilection for drinking wines grounded in tradition yet empowered by technology. It’s fair to say that the D.O.’s (Denominaciones de Origen, regulated wine-producing zones) of Ribeiro, Monterrei and Ribeira Sacra, and even Valdeorras to a lesser degree, were a-slumber for decades when it came to producing remarkable wines. Their autochtonous grapes were being ripped out in favor of high-yield (such as palomino) and high profile (such as sauvignon blanc) grapes that could fetch a living but would ultimately stifle a region’s potential to produce wines of character, personality, and dignity.   Then, back in  the 1980’s, a movement in Valdeorras blossomed, as a few dedicated visionaries revived  the disappearing godello grape.

Other D.O’s have slowly fallen into step.  Ribeiro, for example, has a list of authorized grapes that include grapes indigenous to the zone as well as some from outside the zone, such as macabeo and albillo, but they encourage the use of the indigenous grapes, such as treixadura, godello, lourera, albarino, and torrontes.  This means that a vintner may still use his macabeo grapes, but it is not encouraged.  This shows a trend toward phasing out “foreign” grapes.

Lately an invincible combination of investment, technology, and passion has visited upon the region, and winemakers are now creating wines that reflect traditional styles thanks to modern applications. They are able to capture the fresh and lively nature of cool-climate wines, and even ship them to fame outside Spain’s borders.   Here are five that I find not only delicious, affordable, and expressive of their place but also the perfect choice for hot days as they are naturally lighter in structure and lower in alcohol.

Viña Mein 2008 D.O. Ribeiro (Lugar de Mein, San Codio, Ourense).  This lovely wine is a blend of  local grape varieties whose role in Ribeiro wines dates back to the 16th century: treixadura, godello, and loureira, with small amounts of albariño, torontés, albilla, and caiño (a red grape) blended in as well.  It is seductively aromatic with notes of tart apple, wet steel, and a hint of yeast and olive.  Light and vivacious, Viña Mein is a joy of a crisp, balanced wine that whispers rather than shouts.  The fruit is  reminiscent of pineapple, but is neither sweet nor dominant.  Lemon thyme and white pepper spice the long finish.

Terras Gauda 2008 Albarino, D.O. Rias Baixas (Adegas San Campio, O Rosal).  The 2009 will be out any day now, but I’m still enjoying what remains of my delightful ’08 Terras Gauda albariño.  I love the way it smells of papaya and sea fossils, and how you can feel the energy of  tension between such contrasting flavors - fresh and fruity toying with ancient and dry.  That sexy pull is repeated in the mouth as the tropicalia exudes floral notes and the minerality sparkles sterling and austere.  Light and fresh on the palate, this albariño finishes with a splash of lemon and sea brine.

Gaba do Xil  2007 Godello, D.O. Valdeorras (Compañia de Vinos Telmo Rodriguez, Oourense).  This is a fresh expression of the autochtonous grape godello, un-oaked and lively.  The terroir-obsessed (that’s terruño in Spanish!) Telmo Rodriguez coaxes the place itself out of the soil and into all of his grapes, and you can smell the stones and granite among the lighter, summery notes of chamomile and beeswax.  The wine is rich from lees-stirring, but still clean and refreshing.  A plump, floral center contrasts with the glints of acidity on the edges.  

Alma de Mencia 2007 D.O. Monterrei (Pazo de Tapias, Verin, Oursense).  This is the mencia grape in all its cool and fragrant glory.  Smell the cherries, jasmine, graphite, and stone dust.  This fresh young red, made in a place more renown for white, is endearingly light and nicely perfumed with allspice, carnation, and purple clover.  A garden of berries with a dry finish!  Nice chilled lightly.

Pena do Lobo 2008, D.O. Ribeira Sacra (D. Ventura, Amandi, Lugo). Owner Ramon Losada revived old vineyards from his family’s land, and restored completely organic farming techniques, with the help of Gerardo Mendez, (of Do Ferreiro fame, another outstanding albariño worth seeking out).  Pena do Lobo is 100% mencia , glowing with youth, flirtation, and natural beauty.  The aromas of fresh cherries and grape sorbet are totally fun, while the slate and tannins lend a bit of gravitas.  Chill this lushly purple puddle for 10 minutes before serving and be prepared for a very exciting wine experience.

By Deborah Hansen

Taberna de Haro

999 Beacon Street

Brookline, MA 02446

tabernaboston.com

Once again, I’m appalled by the service you can receive in a restaurant in Spain. This is one of my pet peeves about living here and one that I feel I have to voice every once in awhile, both for my own relief and, more especially, in the hope that restaurant owners and managers will take the hint and pay attention to their most important ingredient for success: good customer service. On the whole, I wouldn’t extend this diatribe to high-end restaurants, such as the Michelin-starred or just the high priced, as they have an invested interest in providing their clientele with an outstanding dining experience. My impression in the case of such dining extravaganzas as Santceloni, Viridiana, or Kabuki in Madrid has been more than positive. I would also say that the family-run local eateries, or the chic new tapas places also have owners who give special attention to their customers. One of my downtown favorites, where the owner is over-worked but always cheerful and humorous is Según Emma, right next to the fashionable Mercado de San Miguel. So the restaurants that irk me actually tend to be the mediocre fast-food chains. But maybe they should be irking me anyway, regardless of their service?

A case in point is one that I visited yesterday evening with my daughters. As we were having an early meal by Spanish standards, at 7:30 pm, the only place we found open was a pizzeria from a newly established chain. Clearly quite a bit of money has been invested in this franchise space, dolled up to look like an American pizza parlor with polish, with a bit of Old World Italian thrown in for good measure. The menu has few surprises, with a couple of “trademark” dishes to give them a bit of edge over the competition.

My daughters and I were the only customers in the restaurant. We had the kitchen and the wait staff of two all to ourselves. We ordered. The woman who served my wine was generous and finished the bottle in my glass, so I got a bit more than I suspect was usual. That was a nice touch. Then…the outrageous occurred. My younger daughter ordered an odd dish, which looked like a pizza rolled up into a loaf, open at the top. I had grilled vegetables and my older daughter had a pizza. The loaf gave up a surprise–my daughter picked something out of one of the pieces she was about to put into her mouth and said, “Mom, what’s this?” Upon close examination, I found it to be the top end of a plastic glove. I was glad to see that the kitchen staff use rubber gloves to handle our food, I just didn’t need proof of it directly on my plate. Or about to be popped into my daughter’s mouth. We joked that we were lucky it wasn’t the top of the finger. I put the silicone appendage on the table and caught the male waiter’s eye. When he came over, I showed it to him and mentioned where we had found it. Logically, he expressed embarrassment and apologized. Then he walked over to the kitchen and, with us able to witness the scene openly, gave them a healthy tongue-lashing. My daughters were now embarrassed about the whole episode and a bit sorry that we had even mentioned our find. I explained that this was necessary, as the restaurant management need to know when service goes awry, in order to improve upon it.  The waiter then apologized to us again and left us alone. My daughter did not finish her plate. We ordered dessert, asked for the bill, paid and left.

What was wrong with that scene?? Well, after the girls and I left, I was livid. I did not want to pursue the matter in front of them, but the issue for me was that the waiter had really goofed. Not only did he make a scene to the other staff that it was not necessary for us to witness, he made no suggestion to change the contaminated dish. And on top of that, we were charged in full for everything we ordered. What?!

Fortunately, when I called today and asked for the manager, I spoke with the woman who had seated us and served me my wine. She had had no knowledge of the incident and expressed the correct concern, offering us the possibility of a free meal to make up for this faux pas, so that we could give them “another chance”. Well, maybe we will and maybe we won’t. Unfortunately, the food just isn’t that good so I don’t know if we want to make that effort.

What would others have done? What would you do?

A few days ago, I came across some notes from the EWBC, the European Wine Bloggers Conference, that I had attended this past autumn in Lisbon. During one of the sessions, I had begun to write down some random thoughts and responses to what participants were saying. I reread them now, and realized that some of these notes might be worth sharing. At the time, the ideas sparked something in me. I also recognize that though written within the context of encounters with wineries and wine producers and sales people, these suggestions can also be applied to any business context. I write them here as they might be useful for anyone interested in understanding the use of social media.

Evening the playing field

One of the speakers to address the issue was Wink Lorch, author of the website www.winetravelguides.com, which is dedicated to providing online travel guides to the wine lover. From her breadth of experience, Wink was able to speak clearly about why the wine business taken online is so appealing to her: it evens the playing field. There are no large and small businesses, no major advertising budgets. To work online, your wits and creative talent can work better for you than any large expenditure. As can your speed and attention. This is why the use of Twitter appeals to her even above regular blogging–because of its immediacy and, more especially, the way in which through this medium you can encounter hundreds of new contacts worldwide, just by using the right words in the right context.

Creating partnerships

The online world can also lead to the creation of new partnerships in a fluid and direct way. This has been my experience over the past five years that I have dedicated to working in this medium. New contacts are just a few clicks away–you follow your ideas, a trail of interesting words and windows like bread crumbs, and you find just the people or the sources of information you might need, or someone or something completely different and equally valuable to taking the next step in your business venture. Many of the latest and most worthwhile contacts I have made in the last few years have been online, and then they have materialized into real people as we finally meet, brought together by our own volition or an almost magical serendipity.

Avoiding bad press

In the same way that you can make valuable and lasting contacts rapidly online, you can also lose your shirt. In the presentations at the EWBC what came to the fore is how much wineries value the use of social media to bring attention to their location and product to a wider world. However, if they’re not doing their work correctly, they should dread this medium. A winery that is not generous with its visitors or that, plain and simple, is not attentive to their product, can be demonized online in the time it takes for their guests or a blogger to whip out their handheld device–one little tweet about lousy attention or lousy wine, and the word spreads like wildfire through the wire. Businesses have to pay much closer attention to their customer service and their product. This is good for everyone. Businesses should appreciate having to be on their toes, it keeps you agile and attentive and makes you better; and consumers can be sure of having immediate and, generally, reliable sources of information about where to purchase, just by following their peers.

Making it work

The final conclusion that I came to in this session is that wineries should pay attention to social media, but not necessarily do it themselves. What they need to continue to pay attention to, and more than ever, is their vineyard, and their product. They need to work hard in an increasingly competitive, knowledgeable and demanding field, to making the best possible wines, with love, patience and attention. Social media tools will help them bring their product to their consumer base, but it should not be the wine producers who write the microblogs or the blog posts or edit the videos. That’s why the professionals are out there, or that’s why, if they have the budget, they can hire their own marketing team. If an individual winery can’t do it, due to budget or other constraints, then a cooperative of wineries can team together and hire their social media expert, someone who can effectively get the word out through writing and video and through the online “grapevine”.

These are my thoughts for the day. I hope they’re helpful.

Another cold day in the city of the Little Mermaid (whom I have yet to see). Unfortunately, despite careful planning, the bike ride event we had planned for early this afternoon was not the success that we would have wanted. In fact, it was no success at all. There is so much going on around town, perhaps this is no surprise. And people are intensely involved in talks and actions and events that are taking place in the two hubs, the Bella Center and the Klimaforum. Not to mention that there is surely a hangover feeling after yesterday’s marches.

Despite the disappointment, we were still able to enjoy some Glögg (now officially my favorite winter drink here, forget the Julebryg–Christmas beer) and a light lunch. A typical dish is the smørrebrød, open-faced sandwiches, similar to the Tostas in Spain. These are available with a choice of tempting toppings, such as marinated herring, roast beef with remoulade sauce and crispy onions, baked goat cheese with tomato or smoked salmon, among other tasty selections. Two of these and your lunch is set.

We were told by our hosts that the classic place for a warm glass of glögg, and that may well make the best of this winter beverage, is the pub Hviids Vinstue, right on the main square in town, Kongens Nytorv. They serve what might be a stronger version of the drink (with rum and cognac in the wine), so maybe it’s this extra kick that has made it so renowned. According to the Official Tourism Site of Copenhagen, “The wine bar - which is located in an almost 300-year-old building - has an annual production of 6,000 liters. The process starts every year in May when the red wine is set to draw with raisins and spices. The raisins are the only sweetener, which are later squeezed and thrown away. In the last part of the process cognac and dark rum are added and eventually it is served with fresh raisins and a whole almond.” The atmosphere of the place is also classic. Dim low-hanging lights, dark wood floors and furniture, stained glass windows, very close and homey (what the Danes call hygge).

After that little pick-me-up you can zip off on your bike (rented or borrowed or bought) and enjoy the brisk evening air–by 3 pm it’s already dark.

Back in Madrid, I came across an article I had snatched from a magazine in a café in Copenhagen–it lists some of the best places to enjoy smorrebrod. It would be only wise to list them here:

Royal Café, Amagar Torv 6, serving brunch on Sunday too.

Kanal Caféen, Frederiksholmskanal 18, closed on Monday

Aamanns, Oster Farimagsgade 10

Huset Med Det Gronne Trae, Gammeltorv 20

Things that I like about the city: there are bikes everywhere, no matter the weather. Most of the bikes are left on the sides of buildings and at posts without locks. The buildings are low. The Danish overall are tall and slim and attractive. After a few beers in the evening, they’re talkative and engaging. They all speak English and are very patient about teaching basic Danish words that I find essential for getting around–hello, thank you, excuse me, cheers! The bread is delicious. The cheese is delicious. I’ve just discovered the seasonal Glögg, the mulled wine with spices, almonds and raisins, and found it really does hit the spot on a cold day. In the midst of winter, there are candles lit in many windows, on tables, in storefronts, that give the city a fairytale air in the evening. Copenhagen is compact and manageable, easy to get around as you walk and admire the sights.

I’ve been enjoying these and other details about the city in the midst of the activities surrounding the COP-15 and my participation in them. This morning, I walked in a rally organized by Friends of the Earth, called The Flood, the idea of which was to flood the city with people all dressed in blue ponchos, like a rush of water, evoking the image of the flooding that can occur with climate change and which will cause the movement of peoples from devastated regions (called climate refugees). The atmosphere all along, as more and more people joined the demonstration, was one of calm, good humor and dedication. Occasional slogans were called out: “What do we want? Justice. When do we want it? Now”, with a sense of purpose. I came to realize that, although many age groups were represented, from toddlers to older generations, this was really the walk of the millennials, the generation of youth born after 1980 and who are now responsible for carrying the torch of our life on this planet. They are also the ones who are questioning the “business as usual” approach to so many things–how corporations function throughout the world, how we in the Western societies cleave to our so-called lifestyles, how to dance, listen to music, interact socially or technologically. The Flood rally was followed by the more multitudinous outright demonstration calling for action during the meetings of this week, a walk that extended six kilometers, through the center of the city and ending at the Bella Center, the location where the COP-15 is taking place. This larger demonstration, which was also peaceful and energetic, was accompanied by many others taking place around the world, and organized within the context of the Global Climate Campaign.

Many of us were not able to get our credentials in time or at all to enter the Bella Center and participate in the activities there. This includes activists, journalists and speakers from around the world. Every day more and more people are pouring into the city from all across the globe. Many go to the Bella Center, and many others participate in the Klimaforum, the People’s Climate Center, located at the DGI Byen, a complex that is eclectic in its construction and offering: hotel, gym, swimming pool, food hall, theaters, on several levels. There, people from everywhere and of all ages are camping out for the day and late into the night. There are press conferences, talks, films being shown, bands playing and a continual milling of people, a buzz of languages. I hear snatches of German, Spanish, French, Dutch, Danish, English… In it’s own ironic way, this coming together in the Klimaforum gives a sense of what it might be like to live in a climate refugee center. By Friday afternoon, on December 11, there were so many people milling about that there were no more chairs or sofas to sit on. The floors and hallways were filled with people sitting on the floors, eating, talking, writing on their computers, in intimate discussions. Baby carriages were lined up against the walls. The garbage containers were filled to the brim, even though there were separate containers for organic and non-organic waste, for plastics and paper. Despite our words, our ideals, our efforts, it is clear that this is the world we live in–so much waste, so many people, so many different agendas to address, so many words that may or may not unfold into actions. I suppose this what we will see in the upcoming days.

I’m staying in the Frederiksberg section of Copenhagen. The main street has plenty of cafés and Italian eateries, as well as shops for clothes and the usual goods. My hosts have a lovely, spacious and remarkably uncluttered apartment, with plenty of windows.

One of the first things you notice here is how barely anyone has shades or curtains on their windows. This means that, at all times, you can look into their homes and observe what they’re doing–having morning coffee and bread, getting undressed, watching television, every intimate and homey moment.

This morning I went for a run in the Frederiksberg park (Frederiksberg Have), that has an ice skating rink at the entrance, a duck pond, a Zoo, and lots of meandering dirt paths. On one of the paths, I came across an interesting sight: a tree adorned with ribbons and dozens of baby pacifiers. There were also clear plastic bags with messages on paper inside them. When I got back to the apartment, I asked my hosts what this meant. Apparently this is a local tradition. When a child has reached the age where he or she might be able to abandon use of his or her pacifier, they go to the tree and hang it up. This is one of the child’s first rites of passage. It seems an easy enough way to break the child from the habit without too much trauma. My question is how long do those pacifiers stay on the tree? What happens next?

Today we’ll be spending our time at the Klima Forum, the alternative activity center to the official COP-15 Bella Center.

If there’s time, we’ll also try to get back to Bo Bech bakery, where they specialize in making only one kind of bread, a sour dough, and to make it the best possible bread you can buy. To be shared with a cheese you can buy at a cheese shop a few doors down. Yesterday, we tried to get by the bakery, but it had already closed. On the way, we found a charming hat shop, Modiste Susanne Juul. The owner, designer and hatmaker is a charming, talkative woman who works day and night in this season to make her lovely creations. There are knitted hats (she makes one in the morning before coming to the shop and one in the evening after getting home), cloth hats with fur, leather hats… I hope to make a short video of her. Stay tuned.

Now, off to the adventure of understanding climate change.