The tasting room at White Hall Vineyards features a cozy fire and a cool view-from-above of the winemaking room. Photo: Stephen Barling
Back when I had a side hustle as a winery tour driver, customers sometimes asked me to choose our next place to visit on the fly. If we were near Crozet, I invariably headed to White Hall Vineyards, which is out of the way and offers a feeling of discovery. You approach on a gravel driveway that threads through some of the 48 acres of vines under cultivation, pass through an opening in the hedge, and enter a compound shaded by tall oaks. The Italianate building has a luminous burnt sienna coloring. Along the front,
a wide green canopy of wisteria tops a sturdy pergola.
It reminds me of places I’ve visited in Napa Valley, which may be intentional. In the early ’90s, before Tony and Edie Champ bought the property, they scouted California wine country, and perhaps took some aesthetic cues for White Hall, which opened in 1994. Around that time, California wines bore a big, fruit-forward style, and many of White Hall’s wines also fit this profile. The vineyard won the Virginia Governor’s Cup competition in 1997 and 1998, with a 1995 vintage cabernet sauvignon and a 1997 gewürztraminer, respectively. After you enter the front doors, and the wide-plank wood floors convey you into the tasting room, you will notice many bottles with medals hung around their necks.
Good winemaking requires high-quality grapes, of course, and the 800-foot elevation and mountain breezes at White Hall present fine growing conditions, moderating Virginia’s withering summer heat. According to Tony and Edie’s daughter, Lisa Champ, the 2019 harvest produced a bumper crop of chardonnay and an impressive haul of petit verdot. The vineyard’s chardonnays I’ve tasted are deep and round, like the so-called “buttery” ones from California. The petit verdot, blended with a little merlot and cabernet franc, is also full-bodied and well-structured.
White Hall Vineyards takes a little extra effort to find, but after visiting, who knows, you might even recommend it to other wine lovers.
Della Bennett’s brie-stuffed acorn squash will warm you up on a winter’s day. Photo: Morgan Salyer
We usually present a dessert in The Last Bite, the department title of the last page of Knife & Fork magazine. But in our winter 2019/20 issue, we switched it up with an exclusive sweet/savory/hearty twist on classic baked acorn squash. Chef Della Bennett of Plenty, the fine home-cooking delivery service, recommends the creation as a cocktail-hour nosh or the centerpiece of a grazing buffet with charcuterie, fruits, and nuts. And she created the recipe just for you.
Acorn squash stuffed with brie and balsamic-roasted cranberries
Serves four
Ingredients
1 medium acorn squash
12 oz. brie
3 cups fresh cranberries (or frozen, thawed)
2 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar
1 tsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped
1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp. orange zest
1 tsp. orange juice
Baguette or crackers for serving
Extra-virgin olive oil (or preferred oil)
Salt
Instructions
1) Preheat oven to 375
2) Halve acorn squash and remove seeds
3) Drizzle and coat squash with olive oil, and season with salt
4) Place squash cut side down on a parchment-lined baking sheet
5) Roast 45 to 60 minutes or until flesh is soft enough to smash with a fork; set aside
6) On same parchment-lined baking sheet, toss cranberries with balsamic, sugar, and herbs
7) Roast cranberry mixture in a single layer for 15 minutes; place cranberries and their juices in a mixing bowl
8) While cranberries cool, peel rind from brie and cut the cheese into cubes (it’s okay if a little of the rind is intact)
9) Place squash cut side up on a fresh parchment lined baking sheet, equally divide cheese cubes and place into squash cavities
10) Add orange zest and juice to cranberry mixture, toss, and place on top of brie
11) Bake for an additional 10 minutes or until brie melts
12) Remove from oven, let cool slightly, and transfer to serving dish
13) Garnish with fresh orange zest and herbs and serve warm with crackers or baguette
Della Bennett’s home-delivered fine cooking is available through her website, plentycville.com.
When the editorial team at Knife & Fork, the quarterly food-and-drink magazine published by C-VILLE Weekly, saw this exuberant photograph of Finnigan—the Australian labradoodle at Veritas Vineyards & Winery—we knew we had our cover dog. Photo: Zack Wasjgras
Finnigan among the vines at Veritas. Photo: Zack Wasjgras
On July 1, 2018, Virginia House Bill 286 went into effect, officially allowing dogs to enter winery tasting rooms. The occasion was met with no discernible reaction from one constituency: the dogs that live at wineries. • Those lucky animals need not engage in any “get your laws off my fur” protest. As vineyard owners and winemakers will tell you, the resident dog pretty much does whatever he or she wishes. • Whether they’re mascots, greeters, or guardians that chase away other animals, like geese or even pigs, canines at some vineyards can gain a certain level of celebrity. “People call and ask, ‘Is Fig in the tasting room today?’” Paul Summers, owner of Knight’s Gambit Vineyard, says of the popular hound. “They don’t ask about hours or whether we have a band playing on the porch—they only want to know about Fig.” • We’re tail-wagging happy to introduce you to Fig and a few other four-legged drinking buddies right here. Editor’s note: In the print edition of Knife & Fork, we misidentified cover dog Finnigan as Emma, an extremely similar looking pup from Muse Vineyards (see below).
Fig, a 3-year-old hound mix rescue, is evidently tired after a day of greeting tasting-room visitors at Knight’s Gambit Vineyard. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Fig
Owner, winery: Paul Summers, Knight’s Gambit Vineyard
Gender, breed: female, hound mix
Age: 3
Origin: Charlottesville/Albemarle SPCA
Attributes: Sweet, affable
Duties: “When the tasting room is open, she mingles,” Summers says. “Otherwise, she’s out hunting something or other.”
Memorable moment: “None really stands out. She’s just so all-around friendly—that’s her greatest characteristic.”
Birdie the blue heeler, winemaker Ben Jordan’s dog, leads her human down a row of vines at Early Mountain Vineyards. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Birdie
Owner, winery: Ben Jordan, Early Mountain Vineyards
Gender, breed: female, blue heeler (Australian cattle dog)
Age: 5
Origin: Harrisonburg breeder
Attributes: Big personality, high energy, always “on”
Duties: “She hangs out at the winery, not down near the tasting room. She thinks it’s her job to watch over me, so she follows me everywhere, out to the vineyards, you name it.”
Memorable moment: “We had a big event for the Virginia Winemaking Board. There were buyers in from around the country. We were all sitting down, eating—lamb cooked on a spit. I got a tap on my shoulder, looked up, and Birdie was standing on the [carving] table, licking up the drippings. It made quite the picture—I had it framed.”
Ti Rey the Welsh Corgi has pretty good hops for a 7-year-old. His first name is a French term of endearment, and “Rey” is an abbreviation of Dee (left) and Roe Allison’s vineyard name, Reynard Florence. Photo: Zack Wajsgras
Ti Rey
Owners, winery: Dee and Roe Allison, Reynard Florence Vineyard
Gender, breed: male, Corgi
Age: 7
Origin: Dalarno Welsh Corgis, Culpeper
Attributes: Gentle, unflappable, confident
Duties: “He’s our official greeter,” Dee Allison says. “When people arrive for a tasting, he knows before we do, goes straight to the door, and herds them in.”
Memorable moment: “He picks out certain people he likes, lays down beside them, and puts his head on their foot—right there at the tasting bar,” she says. Abbey, an 11-year-old golden retriever, sometimes has a tough time keeping up with her younger sister, Shelby, a 7-year-old German shepherd border collie mix. Photo: Zack Wasjgras
Abbey and Shelby
Owners, winery: Jason and Laura Lavallee, Wisdom Oak Winery
Gender, breed: both female; golden retriever (Abbey), German shepherd/border collie mix (Shelby)
Ages: Abbey, 11, Shelby, 9
Origin: Abbey, Augusta Dog Adoptions, Waynesboro; Shelby, a farmer in Pennsylvania
Attributes: “Abbey’s mellow and reserved,” Laura Lavallee says. “Shelby’s outgoing and rough-and-tumble, a tomboy dog.”
Duties: Abbey mostly hangs out with visitors on the patio, but she also looks to Shelby for direction and will follow her around. “Shelby’s the hunter—chasing away birds and deer,” says Lavallee.
Memorable moment: “Four pigs got loose from the farm next door and decided to visit,” she says. “‘Next door’ in this case means a half-mile away. Shelby spent a good 25 minutes herding them. It was a lot of work, but she got them back home.”
Finnigan the Australian labradoodle is at home among the aging tanks and barrels—and everywhere else, for that matter—at Veritas Vineyard & Winery. Photo: Zack Wasjgras
Origin: “We got Finn from a wonderful breeder in Suffolk, Virginia,” Pelton says. “A close friend had the same breed, and we fell in love with his kindness and spirit.”
Attributes: “Finn is a very compassionate and sensitive dog. He is full of energy and loves to snuggle.”
Duties: “Finn is in charge of lifting everyone’s spirits,” Pelton says. “He does that with his happy, constantly wagging tail and lots of love for everyone.”
Memorable moment: “Finn dressed up in a men’s suit for Halloween and seemed so proud and proper. It was hilarious!”
Muse Vineyards’ tasting room ambassador and wildlife manager, Emma, is a rare water-dog breed, the Barbet, which appears in French scripts as early as the 16th century. The American Kennel Club officially recognized the breed in 2020. An estimated 500 Barbets live in the United States. Photo: Zack Wasjgras
Emma
Winery: Robert Muse and Sally Cowal, Muse VineyardsVeritas Vineyards & Winery/winemaker and owner, Emily Pelton
Gender/breed: Female, Barbet
Age: 6
Origin: American Barbet, Indianapolis
Attributes: Sweet, gentle, and calm—but also an instinctive hunter
Duties: “Her main preoccupation is keeping various and sundry mammals from invading the vineyards,” Cowal relates via email. “These have included raccoons, deer, groundhogs, possums, squirrels, and rabbits. She also greets tasting room visitors, both human and canines, with enthusiasm!”
Memorable moment: “Her most outrageous, wildest act,” Cowal writes, “was killing a fawn and then dragging the poor thing around in front of startled visitors!”
Becky Calvert leads cooking club members at Walker Upper Elementary School as they prep ingredients for orzo with roasted root vegetables, fresh herbs, and fresh squeezed lemon and olive oil dressing. Photo: Eze Amos
On one of the last days of classes before the holiday break, the bell rings at Walker Upper Elementary School, and kids stream for the exits. But Becky Calvert is just getting settled into her “classroom,” a sprawling institutional kitchen with a lot of buffed stainless steel surfaces. “I try to do some of the prep for the kids every week,” says Calvert. The blade of a chef’s knife rings as she swishes it across a honing rod. She cleaves a turnip in two, then a carrot, and then a sweet potato…. “Roasted root vegetables are the main ingredient tonight!” she says, her voice rising over the noise of the convection-oven fan.
Celebrated chef Ian Redshaw, a guest instructor at the cooking class, keeps a watchful eye on the kids as they slice and dice vegetables. Photo: Eze Amos
For an hour on most Wednesdays, from 3:30-4:30pm, Calvert convenes the cooking club at Walker, guiding about a dozen 10- and 11-year-olds through a recipe. Former Charlottesville City Schools dietitian Alicia Cost launched the program in 2003, and it has been running ever since. A real estate agent by day, Calvert began assisting with the club in 2014 and took over as director two years ago. It’s funded by the schools, but Calvert has worked to secure donations and volunteer help to keep the club thriving.
Some food industry folks, friends of Calvert’s, help out. In fact, one has just bounded in and peeled off his jacket. “Hello, Miss Becky,” he says. It’s Ian Redshaw, the star chef formerly of Prime 109 and Lampo. He looks like a rocker ready to take the stage, with black Converse high-tops, skinny jeans, a flannel shirt, and spiky hair.
Redshaw washes his hands, dons an apron, and brandishes a knife. “What can I do for you?” he asks Calvert.
“I want those quartered,” Calvert says, pointing her blade at a mesh bag of brussels sprouts.
“Okay,” Redshaw says, “I am quartering brussels sprouts!”
Now the kids start trickling in and the volume increases, as their voices and laughter join the din of the oven fan.
“Hey, guys!” Calvert says, greeting Alex, Nakiya, Avarie, Maya, Amelia, Si-Si, Alanah, Zeniah, and Gabby. “Has everyone washed their hands?!”
“Yessss!” says the chorus of young cooks, positioning themselves in front of their chopping mats.
“Today we’re going to do orzo with roasted vegetables and olive oil and lemon juice—and you’re going to love it!” Calvert says.
“Oh, goody,” says Gabby, 11, a tall girl with a brown ponytail.
Calvert had warned that the class would be “fast and furious,” and she did not lie. Within 60 minutes—from first slice to plating—the group will have created a big, delicious batch of root vegetables and orzo with fresh herbs, plus the dressing Calvert mentioned. The coup de grâce are thin, delicate, cheese crisps, which Redshaw makes with the kids, using finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. “They taste great,” Redshaw says, “like Cheetos!”
It’s a marked contrast to what’s usually available at the cafeteria, where city schools are reimbursed only $3.43 from the federal government for each lunch they provide. With labor and other overhead costs, the net amount available to provide one school lunch is between $1.50 and $1.75, says Carlton Jones, nutrition administrator for Charlottesville City Schools.
At cooking club, students work with fresh, organic produce and they are learning a lot—new knife skills, the meaning of “chiffonade,” how to juice a lemon, and a special move called the “cat’s claw,” which the chef teaches the kids to reduce the risk of cutting a fingertip while dicing.
“I would say our schools try to do everything we can to expose all of our kids to healthy food choices,” says Krissy Vick, the city schools community relations liaison. She lauds Calvert’s cooking club, while also citing several other programs, including one that sustains vegetable gardens tended by students on school grounds.
After Calvert mixes the vegetables and orzo in a big stainless-steel bowl and adds the dressing, the students line up with plates to be served. Calvert spoons out the meal, and Redshaw doles out the cheese crisps. The young cooks head into the cafeteria to eat. With the oven turned off, the kitchen is quiet now, and the sound of the kids’ chatter filters in.
Calvert dries dishes and straightens up the kitchen. Redshaw gives her a quick hug and bids her adieu.
This was the penultimate class for this group of students (next up: chocolate chip cookies), and Calvert admits in a low voice that she feels a bit sad, knowing that soon she won’t be seeing them every week. “They really are sweet, and so capable,” she says.
She tells the story of one former student whose mother held down three jobs to keep the family afloat. Because of this, she had little time to cook, so the student often prepared dinner. “That’s why I do this,” Calvert says. “It’s a lot of fun, and I love the kids, but the best part is knowing that they leave here with a new skill.”
Floyd, left, and Gladys, right, before Gladys bolted from their pen in Albemarle County back on November 10. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
On November 29, the day after Thanksgiving, we posted a story about Gladys the emu and the Cathcarts of Albemarle County. That holiday had been incomplete for the family, because Gladys—one of three emus who live on the Cathcart farm near Carter’s Bridge—was still missing after bolting from her pen with her sister Mabel ten days earlier. (Their brother, Floyd, stayed behind.)
Rip Cathcart and one of his three beloved emus. It’s likely he’ll spend Christmas without one of them, Gladys, because she’s been on the loose for weeks. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
After searching for the big birds (only ostriches are larger) and responding to a flurry of reported sightings and photographs posted online, Rip Cathcart, 62, and his wife, Millie, 55, rescued Mabel. She was in Schuyler, about 13 miles away from home, which would be incredible if emus weren’t capable of running as fast as 30 miles per hour. A father and son had spotted the bird while hunting and managed to capture and hold her until Rip and Millie arrived.
Millie Cathcart said that with the exception of a few trolling comments, the community response via social media—NextDoor.com, Charlottesville/Albemarle Lost & Found Pets, Facebook—was heartwarming. People wanted to help. People did help. Good Samaritans exist!
After our story came out, and readers (many thousands of them, according to Facebook and C-VILLE Weekly site analytics) discovered that Gladys was still at large, Cathcart received word from another Schuyler resident.
“This past Friday [December 6] a man in Schuyler heard strange noises when he was out on his property,” Cathcart related via email. “He had read your article and knew that Gladys was still on the loose! He went home and did some Google and YouTube research on emu noises, and is pretty sure that’s what he heard. He called my husband’s office, and they called me and connected us. We have a glimmer of hope!
“This Good Samaritan is not giving up easily,” the email continues. “He called me on Saturday [December 7] and planned to spend several hours on his property searching. He had a bucket of organic sunflower seeds for her, and some rope, and I told him the details of how Rip and I secured Mabel so we could put her in my car. He said he is very good with all kinds of animals, and seems to look at this as an interesting challenge!
“He called me with an update yesterday (Sunday). He spent 2-3 hours both days searching, and heard rustling leaves, but no Gladys. Unfortunately, today was a cold rainy day and she’s probably hunkered down somewhere in thick bushes for shelter. I am amazed and thankful for folks like him who are spending their time to help. He has researched and read up on Emus, and he’s all set. I hope their paths cross and the next phone call I get from him is great news!”
What we have here is a story of love, hope, and community, and beautiful examples of the kindness of strangers as well as human respect and affinity for animals. On one hand, the tale is terribly sad—Gladys is still missing, and the Cathcarts will spend another big holiday unsure of her whereabouts and well-being.
But on the other hand, it is encouraging. Collectively, we are all too well aware of the rancor and divisiveness among our fellow human beings. Reading and hearing the news of the day can be emotionally and psychically exhausting. Here in Charlottesville, you may think, If I hear one more damn thing about those Confederate statues, my head is going to explode!
It might be better to reflect for a minute about Gladys the emu. As we here at C-VILLE Weekly have discovered, Millie and Rip Cathcart are remarkable people. We would like to think that they set an example for us all. Have we spent too much time and too many words on a trifling saga about a big bird? That may be a valid criticism, but we would urge you to view our coverage of Gladys in the context of our other work. A cover story about The Haven homeless shelter, a heartrending profile of jazz great Roland Wiggins, an examination of the death of a man who died while trying to cross the treacherous Route 29… We believe that all of these stories deserve to be told (otherwise we wouldn’t publish them, natch) and discussed, because telling and sharing stories creates powerful glue.
With this in mind, we will leave you with the content of a recent text message from Millie Cathcart. (Please forgive us if sharing it seems a bit self-indulgent.) As the saying goes, “The heart is a very, very resilient little muscle.”
“Unfortunately, nothing new, no sightings or information for weeks. We continue to hope that someone has taken Gladys in and given her a new home. It has been amazing how many people we know, and have met, who have read your story! Our daughter was at Orangetheory [Fitness], and someone who knew her, but who she didn’t know, started talking about your story. Soon the entire lobby was talking about it. Your story brought 10 unrelated people together—all had read it!”
And with that, we wish you all the best this holiday season and an excellent New Year!
International Neighbors volunteer Deborah Jackson has delivered sewing machines to dozens of area refugees who use them to make clothing and household goods for their families and others. Photo: Eze Amos
This is a story about sewing machines and a woman who repairs and gives them to Charlottesville’s refugees. That might sound like a paltry gift. But to a refugee who sold her clothes in her home country to help pay for her family’s journey to escape violence, institutionalized misogyny, and possibly death, a sewing machine is a powerful tool. It is a source of personal pride, an instrument of creativity and independence, and a means to stitch back together a war-torn life.
Najeeba Popal uses the sewing machine she got through International Neighbors to make dresses for her daughters. She arrived here from Afghanistan five years ago, and now her work as a seamstress also provides a source of income. Photo: Eze Amos
The sewing machine lady is Deborah Jackson. On a sunny afternoon in late November, she sits on the living room couch in her Belmont home, cradling a squirming baby, Taraawat. Next to them is the child’s mother, Najeeba Popal. Popal, 32, arrived in the United States five years ago, on a special immigrant visa, or SIV, for helping the U.S. military. She and her daughter have the same round face, dark hair, and chestnut-colored eyes—but now Popal’s are clouded with tears.
She choked up while telling the story of saying goodbye to her family in Herat, her hometown in western Afghanistan. Popal had lived almost her whole life there, graduating from the local university and working for four years before meeting her future husband and moving to Kabul, where they had their first child. But nearly all of her friends and family still live in Herat. It’s where her mother, a seamstress, taught her to sew. But Popal, fearing her work for the U.S. would be discovered, had no choice but to leave—on a plane the next morning, she told her family.
“I was thinking about my child,” she says, dabbing away tears. “She was newborn. I thought, What if something happens to me—if she were not to have a mom? That would make her life horrible.”
Today, that child and her sister, the one Popal was pregnant with when the family fled Afghanistan, both attend Clark Elementary School. “They love it,” Popal says. Her husband has a full-time job, and Popal takes care of Taraawat and works at home. Like her mom, she is a seamstress.
It’s difficult to convey the monumental contrast between life in Kabul, where terrorist bombings dismembered people and destroyed families, and Charlottesville, where Popal and her family are not only intact but have a growing network of friends. Popal and Jackson are particularly close. They met three years ago through International Neighbors, a local nonprofit that supports refugees. When Jackson discovered Popal knew how to sew, she gave her a sewing machine that had been donated to IN.
“My husband and I delivered two machines yesterday,” Jackson says, handing off Taraawat to Popal. “I always drop them off with bobbins, extra needles, fabric, and things like zippers and buttons.”
Jackson gave her first machine to a refugee three years ago, when another IN volunteer told Jackson that a grandmother had asked for one. The nonprofit had one, but it was broken, so Jackson—who had learned to sew and maintain sewing machines as an 11-year-old—fixed and delivered it. “She was so happy,” Jackson says. “I’ll never forget the look on her face!”
Since then, Jackson has handed out 48 machines and has 15 more at her home, awaiting repair. In the early days of the program, Jackson used nextdoor.com to request donations of machines and fabric. The fabric flooded in. Machines were left on her porch. And now, what started as a one-off has become a meaningful service, enabling refugee women (and a couple of men, notably, a tailor from Congo) to provide clothing and household goods (curtains, furniture cushions, sheets, and more) to their families and other refugees. Some people, like Popal and the tailor, sew as a source of income, finding clientele by word of mouth and through IN, which plans to give sewing lessons at its Fifeville headquarters in January.
Jackson considers the success of her efforts a blessing, but she can’t keep up with the demand, and she hopes others will step up to help. It wouldn’t require a big time commitment, and Jackson can attest to how gratifying it is to help refugees and their families. The things that Popal and others sew are staples of life. But the network that has formed and the friendships made are just as important. “People don’t have family when they come here,” she says. “They feel sad and lonely.”
In time, those feelings diminish, if only a stitch at a time.
Editor’s note: The print version of this story, published on December 18, notes that Jackson had distributed 38 machines to date. After the newspaper had gone to press, she recounted—and came up with 48.
Winemakers around the world have adopted the méthode traditionnelle to produce excellent sparkling wines that can rival Champagne in quality and often are more affordable. The same is true in central Virginia, where the caliber and recognition of locally grown sparkling wine is on the rise. Photos: Max March
By Paul Ting
living@c-ville.com
It’s hard not to love sparkling wine, and consumer trends reflect that: Its sales shot up 51 percent from 2008 to 2017, according to industry statistics.
Reflecting the trend locally, Virginia Sparkling Company, an affiliate of Afton’s Veritas Vineyard & Winery, announced in late October that it would invest $590,000 in a Nelson County facility, exclusively to produce bubbly. CEO George Hodson says the new venture’s mission is to “expand the adoption of traditional method sparkling.”
His specification of the traditional method is important, because it’s a reference to Champagne. The French—who object to the popular use of champagne with a lowercase “c,” because the word denotes the famous wine region in France—will tell you that what makes Champagne so good is the unique character and high quality of the grapes. But the wine’s production technique also plays a major role. It used to be called méthode champenoise (or “Champagne method”) but today is more properly called méthode traditionnelle, or traditional method.
The crux of the process is that the wine undergoes a second fermentation in the bottle. The resulting carbon dioxide is captured in the sealed bottle, creating the sparkle of sparkling wine. It usually also remains in the bottle for extended aging in contact with yeast and other sediment (known as the lees). This process allows for the development of greater flavor complexity and structure.
Winemakers around the world have adopted the technique to produce excellent sparkling wines that can rival Champagne in quality and often are more affordable. The same is true in central Virginia, where the quality and recognition of locally grown sparkling wine is on the rise. We owe this largely to Claude Thibaut, the “father of Virginia sparkling wine.” Thibaut hails from Champagne, where his family grew grapes and has produced sparkling wine since the 1950s. In 2003, the Kluge Estate Winery (the predecessor to Trump Winery) brought Thibaut to Virginia to establish the initial production of Virginia sparkling wine, using local grapes but classical techniques. A couple of years later, Thibaut partnered with childhood friend Manuel Janisson to open Thibaut-Janisson, which quickly gained recognition for high quality Virginia sparkling wine made utilizing méthode traditionnelle. From the early 2000s to this day, Thibaut has either produced or consulted on much of the sparkling wine coming from a rapidly expanding Virginia wine industry.
Other local wineries and have also brought sparklers to market, and with the Virginia Sparkling Company beginning production in the next year to 18 months, we’ll all have the opportunity to sample more effervescent local wine. That’s certainly the intention of Hodson, who is also general manager at Veritas and incoming president of the Virginia Wineries Association. “This project is consistent with the most Virginian aspect of Virginia winemaking, and that is a cooperative effort to benefit the region,” Hodson says. “A rising tide floats all boats.”
We recently sampled a bunch of local sparkling wines and are happy to recommend a few to grace your holiday table and ring in the New Year.
Thibaut-Janisson Blanc de Chardonnay Non-Vintage
100 percent Albemarle County chardonnay, $29.99
Readily available in local wine shops and even a supermarket or two (try Wegmans), Thibaut-Janisson has become the best- known traditional method sparkling wine coming out of Virginia. The nose is light
with elements of lemon, white flowers, and a hint of limestone. On the palate, flavors of green apple, lemon peel, and white grapefruit predominate with just a hint of nuts. The finish is bright with citrusy acidity and a hint of the stone first evident in the bouquet.
Thibaut-Janisson Xtra Brut Non-Vintage
100 percent Albemarle County chardonnay, $32.99
This is the higher-end expression from Thibaut-Janisson and will certainly satisfy those who prefer a traditional dry Champagne style. It utilizes the best juice from the pressed grapes, a higher percentage of oak-aged wine in the final blend, and less added sugar. The result is a wine that’s livelier in acidity and delivers a fuller and more powerful body. The flavors here are precise but of a slightly higher volume. Fresh citrus and stone combine with flavors of dried fruits and layered creaminess, suggesting brioche with lemon curd on top.
Veritas Vineyard & Winery Scintilla 2015
Chardonnay with either merlot or cabernet franc, $45
Veritas normally releases Scintilla as a non-vintage product, but 2015 was an exceptional year so they kept it pure. This example spent two years aging in the bottle and expresses an aroma of yeasty bread and lemon. It pleases the palate with very forward citrus fruit flavors, refreshing acidity, and hints of an almond croissant. The lengthy finish is full of green apple
and pear.
A beautiful pale salmon color in the glass, this lighthearted wine is all about strawberries. The nose is bright and lively with aromas of the fruit and a hint of watermelon. This is not an overtly sweet wine but there is enough sugar to highlight and elevate the fresh fruit flavor, again of strawberries. The finish lingers and brings to mind strawberry soda as it fades. Easy to drink and a sure crowd-pleaser.
Afton Mountain Vineyards Bollicine 2015
70 percent chardonnay, 30 percent pinot noir, $35
Winemaker Damien Blanchon, a native of France, crafts this traditionally inspired sparkling wine from two grape varieties used in the Champagne region. The wine ages for two years in the bottle, resting on the lees in the winery’s caves. On the nose there are hints of lemon-lime, green apple, pear, and a bit of kiwi. The palate is direct with classic citrus, apple, and brioche flavors. A very slight touch of bitter lemon on the medium length finish sets you up for a bite of food or another fruit-filled sip.
Early Mountain Vineyards 2018 Pétillant Naturel Malvasia Bianca
100 percent malvasia bianca, $30
Something quite different, utilizing a grape variety not widely seen in Virginia and applying the very of-the-moment pétillant naturel technique. “Pét-nat,” as it’s called, is also known as méthode ancestrale, which predates the traditional method. For pét-nat, carbon dioxide from the end of the first fermentation, rather than the second one, is captured in the bottle. The wine is made to be consumed young, so aging on the lees is not a goal. The Malvasia creates a nose that is sweet and honeyed, full of apple and pear and even a bit of banana, along with distinct floral notes such as rose and elderflower. The wine is only mildly effervescent, lightly coating the tongue with a fine layer of bubbles. Flavors of sweet clementine, white lilies, almonds, and the same hint of banana may surprise those expecting flavors of traditional sparkling wine. A long sweet finish reminiscent of a lime cordial completes this fun, inviting break from routine.
In many cases, it’s so loose that it can be pulled off. This sounds much worse than it really is. One quick motion and it’s gone, leaving the dog much more comfortable without it rankling.
Robin Felder will go to market next year with three types of “varietal gin” and brandies made with apples, blood peaches, and Burford pears. He says the pears are difficult to grow because they’re susceptible to disease and pest damage, so he’s been fine-tuning planting and maintenance: “If you don’t get the farming right, you’re not going to get the brandy right.”
The poor dog hobbles in with her front paw dangling off the ground, swaddled in a sock drenched in blood. It was all the owner could do to contain the mess before jumping in the car. I’m not completely sure what I’ll find under there, but I’m relieved when it turns out to be a broken claw.
It’s astonishing how much blood can pour out of these things, but it does eventually stop. If the dog is lucky, the claw is completely gone. Perhaps it got stuck between planks on a deck or wedged between rocks on a hike. Wherever it is, it’s not part of the dog anymore. The injury was painful, for sure, but it won’t need much more than a bandage to keep any bleeding at bay and some time to let it heal. In almost every case, the claw grows back normally in a few weeks.
A decision needs to be made, however, if the claw is still hanging around. Often, it’s twisted in an odd direction, causing pain as it gets bumped and jostled with every step. In many cases, it’s so loose that it can be pulled off. This sounds much worse than it really is. One quick motion and it’s gone, leaving the dog much more comfortable without it rankling.
Other times, however, it’s just too firmly attached to do such a thing humanely. This often happens when the claw splits lengthwise. In these instances, the best we can do is trim the nail as far back as possible without causing additional injury. The goal is to cut away the damaged part of the nail and leave only what’s still intact. But if the nail is fully split, we have to wait until it grows out enough that a new, healthy part of the claw has emerged. (Sometimes waiting allows the problem to solve itself, because the broken nail falls off naturally to make way for fresh growth.) Whether we do the trimming right away or later, our hope is that it can be done with little or no pain for the patient. But in some cases—thankfully, a small percentage—anesthesia might be warranted to allow us to really get in there and clean it up.
Most broken nails are chance happenings and don’t indicate a larger problem. But
if a dog seems unusually prone, then preventive measures are in order. Many times, it’s simply a matter of keeping the nails trimmed shorter to prevent them from snagging on anything. Brittle nails may result from a conditions that can be treated with dietary supplements, such as zinc and omega-3 fatty acids. Less commonly, chronic medical problems like infections or auto-immune diseases can leave nails weak and brittle. If this is the case, long-term treatments may be necessary; they’re too varied to address briefly, so be sure to talk through options with your veterinarian.
While most broken nails are simple enough, it’s worth checking with your veterinarian when one happens. Apart from ruling out these kinds of underlying problems, most dogs benefit from at least some pain medication for a few days while the inflammation calms down. But it’s likely to be a simple visit, and your dog should have all four feet—I mean, paws—back in service soon enough.
Dr. Mike Fietz is a small animal veterinarian at Georgetown Veterinary Hospital. He has lived and practiced in Charlottesville since 2003, the same year received his veterinary degree from Cornell University.
Bucky, Buddy Boy, Ringo Star, and Luke (clockwise from top left), and many more furry friends await at the CASPCA.
Take me home!
Visit the CASPCA to meet your new best friend
My name’s Bucky, and these are a few of my favorite things: the great outdoors, all the smells, other dogs, and best of all, people (as long as they scratch my ears).
Buddy Boy here. On weekdays we can hang out, eat pizza (pepperoni’s my fave), and watch TV. And come the weekend, let’s hit the park, because “energy” is my middle name.
Hey there, I’m Ringo Star. And here’s everything you need to know about me: I’m sweet, a great cuddler, love my toys, and am quiet, well-mannered, and good on a leash.
I’m Luke, and I may be shy, but I’m very friendly and excellent on a leash. I also adore other dogs, so I’d prefer a home with a brother or sister—or two!
Robin Felder will go to market next year with three types of "varietal gin" and brandies made with apples, blood peaches, and Burford pears grown on his property. He says the pears are difficult to grow, because they're susceptible to disease and pest damage, so he's been fine-tuning planting patterns and maintenance: "If you don't get the farming right, you're not going to get the brandy right." Photo: John Robinson
Robin Felder sees connections. For instance, when he installed the 250-gallon solid copper still at his and his wife Mary’s hilltop home near North Garden, he knew that the high-tech machine would need a considerable water source to cool and condense the evaporated alcohol into the final, drinkable product. The swimming pool, sunk subtly into the ground in front of their residence, is, oh, about a hundred paces away from the freestanding still house, close enough to reach with a pipe carrying hot steam, so… You can see where this is leading. Even in the dead of winter, a dip in the warm water awaits.
That detail provides a glimpse into the expansive mind of a distinguished UVA professor of pathology who is also an entrepreneur and inventor. Felder, 65, holds a PhD in biochemistry from Georgetown, did his post-doctoral training at the National Institutes of Health, and has launched nine ventures out of UVA’s business-incubator program. His list of 27 patents and patents pending—mostly in robotics and biomedical sensory technologies—starts in 1994 and runs to 2018.
Roughly five years ago, then 30 years into his “day job” at the university, Felder decided to indulge his passion. He had started home-brewing as a teenager, with his military father’s help. “He was all about self-sufficiency, a real DIY guy,” Felder says. Nearly 50 years later—next April and sometime in the summer or fall, respectively—Felder will go to market with three types of “varietal gin” (he has applied to trademark the phrase) and brandies made with apples, blood peaches, and Burford pears. Because the apple distillate lacks a distinct “nose,” it is currently gaining one by resting in repurposed bourbon barrels from Felder’s neighbor, Ragged Branch Distillery.
No prices have been set, but the spirits will demand a premium, due to the labor-intensive production and large quantity of raw materials required to make small amounts of the finished product. “Three bushels of Burford pears—that’s about 120 pounds—go into making one 375ml bottle of pear brandy,” Felder says.
Felder grows the pears on the couple’s 24-acre plot. Like the abundant 2019 grape harvest in central Virginia, Felder’s pear trees delivered a record yield of 4,000 pounds this fall. He credits the bounty to the dry, hot weather, and to the counsel of Tom Burford, the master orchardist of Vintage Virginia Apples and Albemarle CiderWorks. (Known as “Professor Apple,” Burford’s also adept with other fruits. The Burford pear is named for him.)
“Burford pear is difficult to grow—susceptible to disease and damage by pests,” says Felder, who uses only organic methods. “Tom really helped me with planting and maintenance issues. If you don’t get the farming right, you’re not going to get the brandy right.”
A slender man with clear green eyes and thick blond hair parted on the left, Felder wears pressed khakis and a crisp light-blue oxford shirt with the collar buttoned down beneath a V-neck sweater.
“I reached a certain age where I had a choice between a little red Mercedes convertible to drive around in and cheer me up, or a still,” says Felder. With a hearty endorsement from Mary, to whom he’s been married for 45 years, he chose the latter.
We are sitting in the living room of the couple’s home, Montepiccolo—which means “tiny mountain,” a wink at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello. The view filling the glass walls, facing southwest, displays dimming sunlight on the colorful fall foliage. Mountains ripple in the distance—the tall one, more than 30 miles away, is Wintergreen.
“The Mercedes is really not ‘him,’” Mary says. The corners of her husband’s lips curl into a little smile. “I’m a farmer,” he says. “I drive a Toyota pickup truck.”
The statement would be false modesty if it weren’t true, just as the Jefferson reference would be grandiose if Felder weren’t both a dedicated orchardist and accomplished inventor, a person, like Jefferson, interested in earthy pursuits as well as intellectual ones.
As the sun sinks into the mountains, Felder leads the way down the stone steps from the driveway to the distillery. Inside, a crescent-shaped bar curves to the left of the bulbous, gleaming still. The room is immaculate—a laboratory—and the air is redolent with the aroma of booze and fruit. Felder explains that, after taking a three-day course in Lexington, Kentucky, the U.S. mecca of distilling education and experimentation, he elected to get the same brand of still he learned on.
It’s made by Vendome, founded in Louisville, Kentucky, in the early 1900s. Felder’s model is steam-heated and can distill up to 600 gallons of gin a day. “I didn’t want to be limited by the still I bought, I wanted to be limited by my market,” he says.
He steps behind the bar and pours small samples of gin and pear brandy into fluted glasses. He informs me that I am an “official pre-market tester” not a “taster,” because he’s not yet licensed for the latter. The liquors are aromatic and smooth, with pine and citrus (gin) and deep fruit flavors (brandy) that linger long after a sip.
These are Robin Felder’s next great inventions—a delicious melding of art and science—and soon you’ll be able to sample them for yourself.
A photo posted on Facebook shows an emu—likely Gladys' sister Mabel—taking a stroll in Scottsville after the bird escaped their pen about 10 miles north in Albemarle County. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
Today, the day after Thanksgiving, I am praying for Gladys the emu.
A lapsed Catholic, I haven’t been a churchgoer for years. But praying to St. Francis for the safe return of Gladys, for her reunion with her brother Floyd and sister Mabel at their home 10 miles south of Charlottesville, and for the peace of mind of their owners, just feels right.
On Sunday, November 10, Gladys and Mabel pulled a Thelma and Louise and bolted from their pen for a big adventure. It would have been nice if the protagonists stuck together like they did in the movie (though I would never wish such an ending for the birds). But after leaving Floyd, who elected to stay behind, each of the six-year-old females followed her own beak. Mabel trotted south toward Scottsville, Gladys east toward Walnut Creek Park.
Photos of the birds appeared on social media for days after their November 10 escape. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
We know this because the birds are large, about 100 pounds and six feet tall (only ostriches are taller), and they have very long legs that can carry them to speeds of 30mph or more. It’s not every day, meaning never, that you see such an animal hotfooting it in the bicycle lane or even right down the middle of a busy road. Emus on the run. Perfect online fodder. Snap a pic and post it. And a lot of people did.
Millie Cathcart, 55, a retired nurse who owns the emus with her husband, Rip, 62, a residential real estate developer, was the first person to turn to social media. She posted about the escapees on her personal Facebook page, and then, upon advice from friends and members of the social hive, she also placed notices on NextDoor and Charlottesville/Albemarle Lost & Found Pets, and contacted animal control and 911. The support from the official channels was uniformly sympathetic and professional. Millie felt encouraged by that, and also by most of the people who reached out on Facebook, NextDoor, and the lost pets site.
“The variety of responses has been really interesting to me,” Millie says. “Some people have been wonderful—keeping track, checking in, spreading the word. Then, there are others who are just plain mean, like, ‘Just kill them,’ ‘Hit them with a car,’ and ‘The meat tastes good.’ Some people are just horrible.”
Rip Cathcart with one of his beloved emus. He and his wife are hoping for the safe return of Gladys, who bolted from the Cathcart’s pen on November 10. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
Around Thanksgiving, when many large birds go in the oven, the comment about the flavor of emu meat struck Millie as particularly grotesque. These were her and Rip’s pets, not dinner in waiting. But emus—why emus?
“My husband has a menagerie of birds, turkeys, peacocks, pheasants, guineas, chickens, doves, etc.,” Millie says. “Several years ago we had an increase in predators coming over the fence into our bird yard, and we heard that emus could help. If there is something going on, they run over to see what it is. They have greatly reduced predators coming by for lunch or dinner.”
This all started six years ago, when Millie and Rip picked up the birds—they were just fuzzy babies then—from a farm in northern Virginia, and ferried them in the back of Millie’s van to their new home. “Floyd, Mabel and Gladys have been with us ever since, and have a sweet love affair with my husband,” Millie wrote.
But emus are also curious. The Cathcarts noticed not long ago that the birds were attracted to the latch and lock on the gate to their pen. They pecked at the lock, flicked it with their beaks. “It made a clunking sound that probably made them happy,” Millie says.
But then November 10 arrived. It was a blustery day. “I’m sure they were flicking at the lock—plink, plink—and the latch opened, and the wind blew, the gate opened, and they were gone,” she says.
They, a part of the family, were gone.
Floyd and Gladys hang out in their pen while Red stands, er, sits by. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
The Cathcarts have three kids. The eldest daughter lives in Los Angeles and hopes to get into the music business. Their other daughter is a third-year student at Auburn University, and their son, a recent graduate from the University of Alabama, Auburn’s rival. On Saturday, the Cathcarts will attend the big game, known as The Iron Bowl. It’ll be exciting, for sure, but the family joy will be mixed with a sense of dread: Where’s Gladys?
It was funny a few years ago when the kids were younger and would toss the football around with friends. The emus joined in, following the ball as it flew through the air and charging with their lanky legs and long neck directly at the intended receiver. Emus are amusingly odd-looking standing still. But when they run, they are hilarious. When they change direction, they first point their head where they want to go, and then their body follows. The Cathcart kids would laugh, because they knew that the charging birds would turn away at the last second. But their friends were frightened. One hundred pounds of flesh and feathers hurtling toward you at great speed? Some of the kids ran to hide behind trees.
Finding Mabel
Millie and Rip came close to catching Mabel one day in Scottsville. They had been driving around after learning of a sighting, and they were ready to nab her.
Andy, shown here with Mabel immediately after he’d captured her, was hunting with his father, Wayne, when they saw the wayward bird—in Schuyler, about 15 miles from her home. Photo: Courtesy Millie Cathcart
“We had our buckets of sunflower seeds to lure her,” Millie says. “And we had a tarp, duct tape, rope, and a pillowcase to put over her head. If you were going to kidnap somebody, this is what you would have in your car.”
They drove down by the railroad tracks near the boat landing in Scottsville, and two women out walking said they had seen the bird and pointed Millie and Rip in the right direction. Mabel was standing in the woods on the other side of the railroad tracks. The couple got out of the car with their kidnapping supplies. They heard a train coming. A minute later it trundled by. After the train was gone, Mabel was, too.
So close. Their hearts sank.
Finally, on November 22, a call came in from a family in Schuyler. A father and son, Wayne and Andy, had been hunting not far from their home when they saw Mabel. They could not identify her as an emu, and you can’t blame them. Emus are as prevalent in Schuyler as flying monkeys. The Cathcarts raced down and were greeted by Wayne, his wife, Robin, and their son, Andy. His sister, Jasmine, was at work in Charlottesville at the time. When her family called to bring her into the loop, she instantly knew what was going on—she had seen the social media posts. She connected with Millie and Rip via cell, and kept them updated while they motored to Schuyler.
Millie, sounding a bit emotional now: “When those wonderful people down in Schuyler called, and we knew Mabel was in their backyard…. Wayne and Andy were hunting. They said, ‘This is not what we expected to see!’”
Wayne snapped and texted Andy a photo of the animal.
“Andy was in his tree stand about 100 yards away from Mabel, but he had just had eye surgery and couldn’t see the image on his phone very well, and he didn’t have his glasses, so he thought it was a bear.”
Bear, emu, deer, donkey—who cares? The important thing is that they didn’t shoot it. Jasmine went online. She and her mom remembered something about an emu on the loose, and the animal in the texted photograph was the one they were looking at online.
When Millie and Rip arrived, they switched into rescue mode. “Wayne and Andy totally bought into helping us with the situation, which we really appreciated, because it would have been really difficult to catch her without them,” Millie says.
Counter to what one would expect, emus can be very calm in a situation like this. Mable stood still while Andy slipped a rope around her neck. “An emu’s attitude is very confident,” Millie says. “Wayne and Andy were amazed that they could just secure Mabel in this way. There’s a picture of Andy in the woods, with a rope around Mabel’s neck, and he’s just beaming.”
After some wrangling and duct-taping and tying up, Mabel was spirited into the back of Millie and Rip’s vehicle. “It could have been just horrible but she was very cooperative,” Mille says. “I think she was just happy to be saved.”
Apparently, she was also happy when she got home. “We cut everything off of her and then stood back, and she just popped up,” Millie says.
Floyd strutted over to his sister. If they were humans you might expect them to hug or something. But Mabel just walked past Floyd and eventually found a place to lie down. “She was hungry and she was tired and she was a little beat up from being dragged through the woods,” Millie says. “She hunkered down and laid low for a couple of days. We were a little worried about her, but she’s fine now.”
Tomorrow, Millie and Rip will go to the football game down in Auburn. If Gladys isn’t discovered by then, she will have been on the loose for 20 days. “There’s really nothing more that we can do than really just hope someone comes across her and notifies us,” Millie says.
Rip told Millie that with winter coming in, his hope was fading. But there’s still a flicker. “If she would come walking home, that would make us really happy,” Millie says. “If she never showed up that would be—well, I’m just trying not to think about that.”
Instead, Millie thinks about how fortunate it is to have Mabel back together with Floyd. “Who knows?” she muses. “Maybe she’ll lay some eggs and they’ll have babies.”
So now, in addition to my imploring St. Francis for Gladys’ safe return, I’ll also humbly ask for Mabel and Floyd to give the Cathcarts another big bird or two.
If you see Gladys, the Cathcarts ask that you post on the Charlottesville/Albemarle Lost & Found Pets Facebook page: bit.ly/finding-gladys
