Kelby Russell’s name is familiar to many in the Finger Lakes, both because it graces some delightful rose wines from Red Newt – and because he is a presence in many ways supporting various not for profits in our area, including the Smith Opera House, the Eastman Rochester Chorus, and the National Women’s Hall of Fame. A graduate of Harvard University, Kelby was born and raised in our region and lives in Geneva. He is a remarkable cook, a good friend, and a smart guy whose occasional obsession with weather surprises even his friends. I am grateful he agreed to do this interview – I hope you will enjoy it – and learn as much from it as I have. (If, after you read this, you want more bio on Kelby, try here.)
BIbliochef: So, when I think of you, I think wine, but I also think food. And yet, I do not quite know how you got to be interested in both (or either!) – and to be a professional in the wine industry. Can you describe your path to winemaking and what inspired you to take this path?
Kelby: Believe it or not, this is always a tricky question for me to answer. Particularly in the wine industry, we have grown accustomed to stories involving epiphanic moments: our protagonist suddenly discovers the 'magic' of wine and decides to make it their calling, etc.. This is especially true for the US wine industry, where the drinking age is 21 and those that ignore that likely aren't doing so because they want wine with their dinner as a 16 year old. Unlike classic wine regions in Europe, where wine and food together are commonplace and a given, it is still relatively rare here for someone to graduate high school and immediately know they either want to study, or begin a career in, wine. So second-career professionals, by definition often have had some breakthrough moment.
So the truth is that, short of making one up, I have no flash story that led me to wine. I could talk about the fact that my favorite activity in pre-school was to be a pretend chef, or that my favorite TV station from third grade onward was the Food Network. It is all true, but those stories speak more to someone who was generally interested in food and curious about it - two traits which are prerequisites for just about any successful career.
When I went to college, I think that was just part of me and kept growing as I learned more about the world and myself. I started drinking beer and quickly ended up in the microbrew world. I started to write food guides for the places around Boston I thought were particularly great. When an opportunity came up to apply for a travel scholarship to Italy, my application focused on learning about Italy via its food: it was what interested me, and I assumed everyone else would apply to study Roman history or art or the church. So I zigged when everyone else zagged, won the scholarship, and ended up working at a winery - Castello di Potentino - in Southeast Tuscany. I loved it - the work, the pace of life, the personalities in wine (the owner of the castle, Charlotte Horton, is a force of nature and that was before I discovered she was the granddaughter of Graham Greene) - it was my first exposure to wine in a serious way and it stayed with me.
After that summer, when I went back to my senior year, the thought of how 'right' the wine world felt never left me. After graduating I decided to move back home to the Finger Lakes and give the winemaking 'thing' a shot, and that's what I'm still doing.
BIbliochef: I love the notion of zigging rather than zagging! As I have talked with people in the wine industry (and the food industry) I have been curious about how one’s professional life relates to the food and wine in one’s daily life. Is it like being a professional reader (which is what I think of as an academic’s job for those of the sort I am) and not knowing what the limits of professional reading is -- so all reading is simultaneously personal and professional?
Kelby: There is certainly a danger in the wine world of exactly what you are describing; what boundaries should exist between professional wine analysis and personal wine appreciation? I think every winemaker struggles with this and finds their own answer. For me, I feel like I have a switch that can be flipped on or off. At work or in tasting environments, I am focused on the nature of the wine, how it was made, what its inherent characteristics are, what it would accompany food-wise, etc. At home or with a meal, however, I turn off the analytical approach (excepting the most egregious flaws) and instead focus on the spirit of the wine and its enjoyment.
For me, I think that being a 'creator' is what allows and requires me to be able to step back. Ultimately, enjoyment is what wine is about. I don't want to be alienated - or alienate myself - from that. There is nothing more cynical or less enjoyable than abstract winemaking.
Meanwhile, I think those in the wine industry who approach wine as critics - whether writers or beverage directors/sommeliers - probably have a much harder time stepping back. In those positions, you are always "on" and analyzing wine, the boundary between professional and personal is almost non-existent. This is not a problem, just an observation, and I think a fundamental and necessary distinction between creator and critic in any pursuit.
The problem I am intrigued by, however, is Sommelier burnout. The above distinctions have worked for a long time, but in the social media age the act of critic/beverage director has suddenly become a form of around-the-clock performance art. And as social performance lends itself to, slowly it turns into a competition. Wine Twitter and Instagram feel like one long #humblebrag on one hand, keeping up with the Jones's on the other. It is a game which no one ultimately benefits from.
(The other piece of Beverage Director burnout that I muse on is distinctly more Marxist, in regards to how serving the elite in global cities results in admiration and emulation of their attitudes and what they value. There is a reason that top level sommeliers tend to be young, male, and work insane hours for a few years until they burnout; let's not pretend it is inherent to the job. If you took the veneer of wine away from the job title, the job structure would be identical to power lawyers, investors, or tech start-ups. What is being rewarded and valued? I daresay it is not the wine; the product is incidental to the power exchange.)
Bibliochef: I totally see what you mean about he relation of all this to power exchanges; certainly the sumptuary laws of history were about managing food and drink (and clothing) around power! And now, for something a tad less intellectual, though like you everything is a blend for me! Would you be willing to describe the first meal you can remember that included wine – and what it meant to you (or does not mean to you)?
Kelby: The memory that will forever stay with me is of my first time having wine (and first time having any sort of alcoholic beverage), which was at the start of my freshman year at college. I know, I was a late bloomer. [Bibliochef; me too!]
Upon arriving on campus, the first choice of real consequence for me was to sort out which extracurricular activities I would pursue. Music had always been a huge part of my life, between alto saxophone and singing, so I decided to try out for the Harvard Glee Club. [N.B. A 60 voice, all male chorus that specializes in classical works and Renaissance polyphony; not to be confused with the TV show.] The tryouts were rigorous and nerve-wracking, but after a couple of weeks I heard a knock on my dorm door one Sunday evening and opened it to find the returning 45 members of the Glee Club in white ties and tailcoats, bursting into a song of welcome. I tagged along with them as they went on to welcome the other new members, until we were all gathered and eventually led to the beautiful old chapel that serves as a rehearsal space of the Glee Club. We entered the room in the dark and were given glasses of sparkling wine, only to discover we were surrounded by the returning Glee Club once again, singing Palestrina's motet "Sicut Cervus."
It is an idyllic story for ones first taste of wine, but there is no use in pretending otherwise. Lest it seem to high-brow, following that welcome, the entire lot of us went down to a Chinese-American restaurant for a late night dinner of all the classics that now would give me indigestion. And I can only assume the sparkling wine was a brand along the lines of Andre.
I had forgot about this story for quite some time, but it is one of the most memorable moments of my young life. And I feel like its impact was fundamental on me, yet has been easy to glide over for some time. When I think about how I consider wine and my job now, so much of it can be traced back to that magical evening. The idea that wine can raise a moment to the spectacular, that it can be an expression of art as well as a complement to it, and that it should also be there equally for the less-serious or fun times. It is how I still think about wine and the wines I want to make for everyone. Hopefully, I will live up to those aspirations.
Bibliochef: I think of you as a winemaker – as an oenologist rather than a viticulture person. Is that right? What do you see as the relation of growing grapes to making wine?
Kelby: Certainly my title is winemaker, and that is chiefly how I viewed my own role when I was starting and finding my feet at Red Newt. I think every winemaker has their own answer to where they fall along this spectrum, and the wine world in general has coded-in assumptions about what the correct and incorrect way to go about it is. For me? As I've matured as a winemaker I find myself more and more spending time in the vineyard.
Largely this is modeled upon what I saw during the crucial harvest I spent at Yalumba, in the Barossa Valley of South Australia. The winemaking team there was remarkably talented and invested in teaching me what they looked for and why. To my surprise, during harvest that usually meant they were out in vineyards checking on the grapes, making adjustments, scheduling what should be picked when. They were rarely at the production facility, the handling of the fruit in the winery was taken care of by a great cellar team instead.
Now I find myself behaving somewhat similarly; I have an amazing team at Red Newt that I am proud of having helped assemble and train. And at the end of the day, they can process the fruit exactly as I want them to just as well as I could. My greatest value is thus not to be on the crush pad, but out in the vineyard. Looking, tasting, starting to get a feel for how the harvest is going or what type of wines each parcel might want to be. Then, once it is dark, I'm back on the crush pad working just like normal. It's been a big evolution for me over the past five years, having the trust to step away from the crush pad itself and into the vineyard, but I think the wines have improved markedly for it.
Bibliochef: I know you have traveled around the world in the interest of learning and making wine. Could you say a bit about why and how that affects you as a thinker and a maker?
Kelby: In a way, I suppose all the travel to learn about making wine has been a hands-on form of Graduate School. I was, and am, a bit proponent of the liberal arts undergraduate degree; learning how to think critically and how to philosophically place yourself in a swirling world. The sacrifice in doing that, however, is foregoing a single-focused career path during those years. But that is a great trade-off! It meant that once I decided to pursue winemaking, I knew that was what I wanted to do and was more than ready to pursue it. I was ready to travel the world and soak up different ideas about wine, winemaking, and the various techniques used to achieve those ends. And I was grounded enough to still appreciate and learn from the winemaking ideas I didn't necessarily agree with.
That is the big picture, certainly. On a more day-to-day scale those travels laid the foundation for the ideas I bring into winemaking every day. How I view my role in the cellar versus vineyard (see above)? Australia. How I want to treat those who work on my team? Tasmania. How to handle a production schedule that is largely built around one grape? New Zealand. How I work with lighter-bodied red wines? All three (via Burgundy, for some of them). How to make great Dry Rieslings with texture? Germany. How to stop worrying and learn to love enjoyable wines? Italy.
The list could be much longer, but I think it is not unique to me. Any winemaker with a curious mind who travels will have a similar list of influences, even if the results aren't the same. It is the fun of being in this industry.
Bibliochef: As you know, I am with you on the importance of the liberal arts and sciences! ON the relation of local to global, or stay at home to travel: Does the travel you have spoken about and continue to do lead you to think about the Finger Lakes from a particular perspective?
Kelby: With how rapidly the wine world is evolving, and with all our hopes for the future of the Finger Lakes, I've always been keen to see how other wine regions have come of age. Finger Lakes wines are finding their footing in the larger market, not just New York City, and with that growth will come an influx of interest in the region itself. It is a reason that I immediately knew I wanted to live in Geneva upon returning home from college; it seemed well positioned to be the wine town or capital for the Finger Lakes and I wanted to be part of that.
As my travels continued, however, my perspective has slightly shifted. I still feel the same way about the Finger Lakes and Geneva as places for tremendous growth, but I've realized that many local residents do not see the changes that are coming and I want to make sure we are prepared. We are so used to this region being somewhat economically forlorn, it is hard to believe that things could change, but we need to see that coming and protect the path forward. Those who would sell out our future for a handful of jobs that destroy the local environment - our greatest resource for winemaking and for tourism - history will not judge favorably. Likewise for those who would rather bury their heads in the sand and say that Finger Lakes wines aren't actually that good.
Meanwhile, I've become more animated in two other fronts, after having traveled and seen successful wine regions and towns that have emerged recently. The first is to stress to locals over and over again that the main benefit of a growing wine industry is not tourism. It is not restaurants and hotels and various other tourist activities; although those are important and certainly will grow. The real benefit is actually the jobs and the people that move to the region. We are seeing an influx of talent - national and even international - that are interested in working in the Finger Lakes and perhaps settling down here to make their mark on a new wine region. The benefits of the jobs created and the people who fill them or travel to fill them? That is the real multiplier effect of our local wine industry. And outside of economics, I would add that we tend to be a relatively fun group of people.
The second change I am attuned to from traveling is not as popular. We are so eager to see economic growth in Geneva and the region at large, so excited to chase after it and celebrate it in every way, that I think we are already overlooking the fact that gentrification is not some great cure-all. Often I hear about how much Geneva has changed for the better, how exciting the businesses are, how much safer downtown is, when what we are actually talking about is whitewashing. Geneva is a wonderful city with many amazing benefits, and one of those is how diverse it is. My neighbors - young professionals, blue collar workers, migrant workers - are all crucial. We need to make sure we celebrate that, not push it to the outskirts where you don't have to drive through it.
Bibliochef: I am completely with you on the need to anticipate and plan for change; as someone who loves Geneva, I am concerned that we attend to the many people whose lives are changed and we want to stay with and in Geneva - rather than become a place that pushes others out in order to bring economic growth. I like the idea of grand-parenting in those who live here as taxes change, and finding other ways to honor local as crucial to all that we do.
So: on people. . . You can invite anyone living or dead to a meal that you cook. And you are unconstrained by budget. Who would you invite? On what might you dine? And what wine would you serve?
Kelby: For me, it would quite simply be my maternal grandfather. Unfortunately I don't remember him, as he passed away when I was far too young. It is all the stranger then, that even without that connection, I seem to have taken after him in so many ways. He loved baseball and sports, loved cooking Italian food after he befriended Italian workers while he was growing up, adored jazz. Without any of those existing in my upbringing, I came to all 3 passions on my own over time. I would have loved to have known him.
For the meal? Sunday Gravy; tomato sauce with meatballs, sausages, pork, the whole nine yards. I grew up thinking of pasta as spaghetti and meatballs, but my mother would tell stories about my grandfather's tomato sauce being an all day project that included things that seemed strange to me growing up (a pork chop?!). I don't have his recipe, but I stumbled into my own and love to make it. I'd like to think we'd cook it together while catching up and joking around; an easy drinking red wine out of bistro tumblers, Ella Fitzgerald on the record player. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't with me in those moments regardless.
Bibliochef: So moving, Kelby. Thanks. You can pick 5 wines to put in your wine cellar. Neither price nor availability are concerns since this is a fantasy. What do you pick? How might you tweak this if price or availability mattered? Price is no option and availability is no concern.
Kelby: Interesting, the "wine cellar" part is a twist that makes aging potential more important that the typical iteration of this question. I'll do some general wines and a couple specifics, and these would generally hold up even if cost was a consideration (noted otherwise if not). The secret of the wine world is that the 'best wines in the world' often exist for prices that are not astronomical ($50-$75 for a special bottle). Leave the astronomical names to the astronomically wealthy, the wines are often very good, but the premium on them is no longer commensurate to their quality:
- A big, autolytic (yeasty/brioche-y), brut Champagne.
- I enjoy many styles of Champagne and its vinous children (if you think there aren't many styles, take this as an excuse to try more of them), but I have a particular soft spot for the broader, toastier, richer styles. This is the type of Champagne you could serve with steak, which seems counter-intuitive until you give it a try and realize just how well a big Champagne holds up with classic "red wine" food. It takes lots of time to make this style in general, which also means they are more expensive.
- An older Palo Cortado Sherry.
- I'm a noted fan of sherry and, thanks to Peter Bell at Fox Run, was on that bandwagon several years before they suddenly became popular again in wine geek circles. Palo Cortado is a relatively rare style that is both earthy/mushroomy and still saline, roughly between Amontillado and Oloroso in style. It's rarity has led it to be fetishized in the US market and driven up the price, however. So if cost isn't an issue...
- Hunter Valley Semillon (i.e. Tyrrell's).
- A shout out to the great wine country of Australia, which has been underappreciated in the US ever since the Yellowtail wave hurt their premium image. Semillon from the Hunter Valley is a remarkable creation; picked young and green, the resulting wines are tight and crisp when first bottled to the point of being neutral. Ten years or more in bottle, however, and they become wines of rare finesse and beauty. A real treat, and all it takes is time.
- Auslese Riesling from J.B. Becker in the Rheingau.
- A producer I was able to meet four years ago who forever challenged how I think about making wine. He is a persnickety character who lets his wines do the speaking for him, but my goodness do they have a lot to say. Concentration and layers upon layers of flavors. Recently the wines have started to come into the US and are quite hip - but fortunately the emphasis is on his drier Rieslings. The minority of sweeter style Rieslings he makes, however, always leave me speechless.
- Boscarelli Vino Nobile di Montepulciano.
- If you've ate at our house, you know that Italy may be my spiritual home despite me having no genetic connections there. Tuscan red wines are consistently one of my favorite things to drink in the vinous world and pair with Italian cooking in a way that no other wine can. Savory and tannic, yet with enough acid to counterbalance tomatoes or vinegar. Old school Chianti producers are reliably the best value wines in the market, often around $15-$20 for a bottle (i.e. those that don't include international grapes such as Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon, and instead stick with Sangiovese and a handful of other indigenous varieties). This is a special sub-region and particular producer in that context, given that I'm not limited by funds in this question, but even saying that the wines can be had for around $30.
Bibliochef: Ok, I admit that I did not quite anticipate that the notion of wine cellar would shape your answer this way! Thanks. Time for me to go shopping -- and we might need a consult on how to store things. And onward: If you were recommending one essential gadget for everyone to have in their kitchen, what would it be?
Kelby: A simple, double-hinged, waiters' corkscrew. They are stupidly simple to use and work every time, yet there is an entire industry built around "bottle openers" that attempts to convince you that getting a cork out is some sort of magic trick. Unless you are opening 20+ year old bottles, this kind of corkscrew is all you need and it shouldn't cost more than $10-$15 for a normal model.
Bonus, non-wine, gadget for cocktail enthusiasts out there: True Cubes ice tray. Clear ice is a beautiful thing in cocktails or for any drink on the rocks, and this Kickstarter project from 2016 finally delivered it on a home-scale at a great price.
Bibliochef: Again, you are going to force me to shop! I have been looking at ice cubes in new ways over the past few years. And now, though, onward to questions that I ask everyone> here's the first: What’s the absolutely best meal you have ever had? What made it the best meal?
Kelby: The next one! That may seem like a cop-out, but anyone who has lived with me or my cooking knows how true that is. I cook constantly and love to cook... but I rarely ever cook the same thing twice. I'm constantly tinkering, onto the next thing, often to the frustration of those who want me to make a meal again. I love the thrill of cooking, inventing, and creating; and I enjoy doing it anew every time. So hopefully I never lose that passion; it's great to always feel like the next meal will be the greatest yet!
Bibliochef: You are not the first to answer this way. And, I am kind of with you on this -- or at least the ever shifting answer I would have if I tried to answer this myself. And now: What music, films, books related to food would you recommend? Why?
Kelby: Bill Buford's Heat is the book that inspired me to pursue my dream of traveling to Italy for food reasons and gave me the spirit to throw myself into the passion of creating something (wine in my case, as opposed to a talented butcher). It also, regrettably, features Mario Batali as a large character throughout much of the first half. I refuse to hide from that, however. Buford's writing was incredibly important on my journey, but as a society we have to fully face the damage wrought by men who abuse any advantage of power they have. We need to do much better, and part of that includes not sweeping such things under the rug as if they didn't happen. [Bibliochef: If you do not know to what Kelby is referring, click here.]
Heat once mattered to me as an inspiration for chasing a dream; now, my own history with it inspires me in manner that is even more important.
Bibliochef: I learned a lot from Heat as well -- and reviewed it some years ago here on Cooking with Ideas. I might have to revisit my thinking about the book while eating comfort food? What do you eat for comfort food?
Kelby:While I cook regional Italian food more often than not, my comfort food would come from Italy's largest 'region,' America. Italian-American food is a go-to comfort food; veal parm, meatballs, thick red sauces with melted cheese, garlic bread, NY-style pizza. How can you go wrong?! The restaurant I may take the most joy recommending in Geneva is probably Uncle Joe's (The wings! The giblets! The Dripless Meatball Sub!), which is definitely a local secret tucked away to the north of downtown. It's almost a second home many a late night after harvest.
Bibliochef: I usually ask if people have a favorite restaurant in the Finger Lakes region or Chicago,and now you have mentioned one! So, more on this? Otherwise, how about a favorite elsewhere?
Kelby: Easiest question of them all. In the Finger Lakes, Dano's. Fantastic food, made with love, made with purpose, and a restaurant that is rock solid in its consistency (a factor that often gets overlooked). I also find the architecture and interior gorgeous. Bonus points for the special meals (Channukah dinners, Ukranian Christmas, etc.).
In Rochester, Rocco's Osteria on Monroe Avenue. My favorite restaurant in the country. It reminds me of a "triple threat" in Hollywood or a "five tool" baseball player; it is rare in that it can do everything well. Appetizers, salads, pizzas, or big ticket entrees; a great bar program led by Sly; and a small, but fascinating and ever-changing wine list. This place was inspired by Batali's restaurants, and (thankfully) roundly laps them in execution.
Bibliochef: Well, I cannot say how pleased I am you did this interview! I have a restaurants to visit that I have not visited, and have learned a lot about many things. Here's a toast to you -- cheers! And thank you.
