A survival guide to summer food fests

This past weekend, The Great GoogaMooga, the chefs-as-rock-stars food festival that had many bemoaning the end of civilization and the rise of the foodie monster, took place in Prospect Park with some 75 vendors and 40,000 attendees. The first day of the two-day event ended with chefs, critics and hungry parkgoers alike making Woodstock ’99 comparisons, bemoaning long lines, ill-prepared vendors and a Byzantine beer system that left people cranky and thirsty.

The truth is, though, what happened in Brooklyn is no different from what happens at every food festival—it just took place on a larger scale under closer scrutiny. Lineups? You can’t get into these chefs’ brick-and-mortar restaurants without waiting in line; why would a limited-edition outdoor version be any different? As for scarcity, consider that they can only serve as much as they can carry into the middle of the park—no walk-in coolers, no pantries, no back-up supplies. It comes with the territory.

The real problem was one of expectations. An outdoor food festival can be one of the greatest joys of the summer or an absolute hell on earth—the only difference lies in how you’ve prepared yourself, both mentally and materially. Here are a few tips to make sure you’re never left stranded, sweaty and starving surrounded by an ocean of food.

Decide why you’re there. For many, the draw of food fests is the fact that they gather a dozen or more top chefs/purveyors in one convenient spot. Rather than having to trek from borough to borough (or beyond) to sample each, you need only walk across the parking lot. Others, however, see the all-day fest as a test of endurance, the chance to eat as much as possible. This is especially true at events where the price of entry gets unlimited tastes; they are bound and determined to get their money’s worth.

Figure out which of these camps you fall into before you arrive and you’ll save yourself the awkward realization that you’ve filled up on hush puppies at the first stand before you’ve even reached the main course.

Recon. There’s nothing worse than having your heart set on a specific vendor or food item, then getting to the party and realizing you can’t find it. Heavy crowds and the landscape limitations of venues like Madison Square Park mean some stalls end up tucked away in a corner, signs obscured by trees or hat-wearing hipsters. Most events post detailed vendor lists online in the week before the big day or provide maps at the entry; don’t be ashamed to spend some time studying before you go barreling into the fray.

If there’s no guide, take a lap of the venue. Turn down every alleyway and make mental notes of the important spots to hit, as well as essentials like washrooms and drinks. While you’re at it, you can plot out your “must-eats” to make sure you hit all of the highlights.

Water. Seriously. It sounds like the advice your mom would give, along with use the bathroom before you leave the house (come to think of it, you probably should do that, too. Outdoor venues + overindulging attendees= porta-potties you don’t want to have to use). But trust me. Those long lines are a lot easier to wait in if you’re not dehydrating as the minutes tick by, and the sun is a lot less sweltering.

Bring the biggest water bottle you can comfortably carry with you; if it’s a closed venue with no outside containers admitted, make the drinks table your very first stop. If it’s especially crowded, get two bottles at a time and keep one in your back pocket. It’ll keep you cool and keep you from having to interrupt the fun to go back later.

When all else fails, corn. It’s the outdoor food fair’s great equalizer. At the lowliest of tube-sock fairs and the swankiest of charity fundraisers, somebody will be grilling corn on the cob. It may be called elote or topped with crème fraîche and caviar, but it’s always the elemental essence of summer, all fresh, sweet produce and smoky fire, so messy can only be eaten outdoors. If you can’t find your friends or the heat is getting to you, stop, breathe deeply and find the corn—it’s impossible to stay crabby with greasy fingers and a soot-smeared chin.

Jewish wines that are delicious and complex do exist

Passover has come and gone already this year, but if there’s one question that I get more than any other from my fellow Jews, it is this: “Why is kosher wine so bad?”

It could almost be added as the fifth question in the Passover haggadah.

Wine is a central part of Jewish culture. It is prayed over during the weekly Shabbat, drunk under the chuppa during the exchange of vows, and sipped with relish during many festivals. It would stand to reason that, given how much vino we are required to drink, Jews should probably make the best wine there is.

This is, very sadly, far from true.

Well, I am here to Let My People Go …or at least their palates. Kosher wine doesn’t have to taste like the remnants of a Smucker’s grape jelly jar. It can be drinkable and, yes, even delicious and complex.

The fundamental thing to know about kosher wine is that there are two basic types: mevushal, and non-mevushal.  It is usually the mevushal wines that have given kosher wine a bad name. The process of making a mevushal wine entails flash pasteurization. In a nutshell, due to the intricacies of rabbinic laws concerning kosher diet, any wine that is made and handled by a gentile (or a non-Sabbath-observant Jew), cannot be considered kosher. The wine, however, can be “purified” by boiling it. It only need boil for a split second, but boil it must. After that, it can be served by a gentile and still be considered kosher.

This would all be well and good if heat weren’t wine’s number one enemy. Raising the vino’s temperature to that point, even for a split second, drastically changes the flavor of the wine and robs it of most of its unique characteristics. Drink a little bit of this stuff, and your taste buds will feel as repressed as the protagonist of a Philip Roth novel.

Non-mevushal wines, however, are made completely by Sabbath-observant Jews. By doing this, there is no need to “purify” the wine. Strict kosher observant Jews will only allow other Sabbath-observing Jews to serve this wine to them, to avoid breaking kosher law. If you are serving this wine for a Jewish holiday, however, this will most likely not be an issue.

Making non-mevushal wine is much easier to do in Israel, where keeping kosher is not only a way of life, but the norm. And it just so happens that grapes have been grown and wine has been made in Israel for thousands of years.

One of my absolute favorite producers in Israel is Tishbi. Their Tishbi Cabernet Sauvignon / Petite Syrah, 2010 ($11.99 at Crush Wine & Spirits, 153 E. 57th St. btwn. Lexington and 3rd, 212-980-WINE), rivals any Cali-cab I’ve had in the same price range. It has tons of pipe tobacco and leather scents, with big, bold cherry fruit flavors, and the 30 percent Petite Syrah gives it a peppery finish.

If you’re looking for a bold kosher white wine that can hold its own, look no further than Golan Vineyards’ eponymous Golan Chardonnay, 2010 ($15.99 at Beacon Wines & Spirits, 2120 Broadway btwn. 74th and 75th Sts., 646-213-0776). This is a no-nonsense chardonnay with just enough spice, vanilla and tropical fruit flavors. For those who love the unctuous mouth-feel of Napa style chardonnay, you will absolutely fall in love with the flavor profile on this great white.

For something sweet and light to finish off any Jewish celebration, try Dalton’s Sweet Muscato, 2010 ($12.99 at www.hudsonvalleywinesandliquors.com). From the Galilee area of Israel, Dalton’s slightly fizzy Muscato shows that kosher wine can be sweet and interesting at the same time.  Ripe peach, tangerine and honey flavors are balanced by an effervescence that keeps the sweetness from being overbearing.

Above all, always make sure to check that the wine you are buying is a non-mevushal.  Many producers make both mevushal and non-mevushal versions of their products. While this is by no means an epicurean stamp of approval across the board, it will at least ensure that it hasn’t been boiled.

Now, if we can just do something about that gefilte fish.

Follow Josh on Twitter: @joshperilo.