Cafes & Wineries

Robert’s note: If you have been in a Starbucks you will recognize most of these folks. Warning, the language in the article is “R” rated.

8. Manager Who Refuses to Recognize the Words Small, Medium, and Large
7. Intern Who is Buying for the Entire Office
6. The Writer Who Wants You to Know They’re a Writer
5. Overly Happy Line Greeter/Order Taker
4. Complicated Order Guy Who Needs his Coffee

Original post by Robert

By Carley Thornell

There’s something new brewing at Starbucks and it’s not the coffee. Call it what you will - plug, stopper, lid seal - a spiffy little item that the coffee-chain colossus has dubbed its “splash stick” rolled out last month with nary a splash.

It’s a green plastic swizzle stick that locks into the sip hole on the raised cup lids used for takeout coffee. At last, the costly,

Original post by Robert

The dogs were biting at my ankles as I dodged into the greengrocer store here in town. Inside the genius-mad spiceman was cuddling in a corner with his heirlooms. I had seen him down the street in the Italian shop, where he told me he had scored some wild asparagus from the Basque part of France. I was hopelessly locked in a mad dash to get my green on.

Later that evening we had been invited to our friends’ flat. Not just any flat, it is in an older but still desirable part of town. It’s a minimal space, clean and uncluttered. The friends had just returned from a six week road trip to places in the world I would never see.

Simple food and a few wines from the cabinet, I was just coming off cold-turkey withdrawals from Riesling, but I was in the game and looking past the Mosel, for the moment.

You never know when a wine will surprise you. For instance, we were going to have a Verdicchio from Matelica, usually a wine I go crazy for. Before that wine, though, our host opened a bottle of Beringer Alluvium, a white from Semillon and Sauvignon, and a splash of Chardonnay and Viognier. No chance of tasting terroir there, right?

I had been to Beringer in February for a tasting and a dinner but I didn’t remember the wine except as a brief snapshot during the reception.

Terroir and California don’t go together? So the debate goes. Being a native of California, perhaps I sense the underlying thread that a place like California weaves into every thing Californian. I get it, don’t always like that some winemakers cover it up with their barrels and their egos and their lofty ambitions. Then again, a winery like Stony Hill manages to dodge the barrels and the reverse osmosis parade that is going up and down Hwy 29. So it is possible.

Anyway, this Alluvium didn’t seem so out of kilter. In fact it wasn’t until our host handed me a glass of the Verdicchio (a Gambero Rosso 3 glass’er, so he told me) that I nearly jumped out of my skin. The California wine reflected its California-ness more truthfully than the Verdicchio portrayed its Marche-ness. Pure and simple, no debate, I was longing for more of the Beringer and hoping the Verdicchio would just go away.

Still, I was in that Riesling trance of late, so that might have something to do with it. Nah, I’m not buying into that.

The Verdicchio had great acidity, but a little too highly pitched. What was the winemaker thinking? Let’s raise the heels up another inch, hike up the skirt, lower the bodice, there, she’ll be a real stunner. What does Sergio@IWM call ‘em, bona?

Well, it didn’t work this time. Anyway we were on to reds

We were joined by a couple who had just arrived from San Francisco. Fresh air, lively conversation, some new ideas, waiting for the red wines to breathe.

Earlier in the day I had gotten a text from one of my Italian Wine Daughters about Rampolla’s Sammarco. This is what I love about the young’uns, they have a question about the 2003 Tuscan harvest, they send you a text. I think we got it worked out. Sammarco, by way of answering the IWD, is indeed 95% Cabernet and 5 % Sangiovese, not the other way around as I told her. Sorry.

But here’s a winery that has embraced their green-ness, Rampolla, that is. And they are making a Cabernet in Sangiovese country. Whose fault is that? A younger Tachis, no doubt, but it works for me. There are all kinds of surprises in the vineyards, aside from the way we think it should be.

The SF couple has a vineyard in Alexander Valley, Laughing Raven. Sauvignon and Barbera was what I heard they make, perhaps something else. We must try these wines too. I think there will be more surprises.

Many folks are searching for their simple truths, and life on earth just isn’t giving the answers we would expect.

The host pours a red wine and folks ask what it is. Wine, drink it. OK.

Back to Italy and the Marche, to a wine that if I could nail in a blind tasting it would make me very happy. Le Caniette Nero di Vite, a Rosso 50% Montepulciano and 50% Sangiovese, lots of wild-ass acidity bordering on volatile, taking you right to the edge of the brink, strapping on the rubber bands and pushing you over to a bungee-jump-of-a-lifetime swallow-of-wine. And back up to do it again. And again. That bottle didn’t last too long.

The Marchegiani have the great secret of Italy growing wild right out of the pots in front of their windows.

Piceni invisibili they are. Happy, lucky, well fed.

Next up, a 2000 Barolo from Pira. They actually didn’t let the vintage take a hold of the wine in the sense that the wine was unencumbered with gobs of fruit. It was gob-less, and we could have used a second bottle. Man, that was nice, even if was too suddenly over. Some of ‘em are James Dean and some of ‘em are George Burns.

There was so much coming at me, for this post, but it would be too long. This search for the appropriate shade of green in one’s life, who are we to think that we are directing any of this? Come on, take one down and pass it around, 95 other bottles waiting to come down. Keep the line moving, bub. We can tackle our inner terroir some other time.

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

There are stupid, corrupt, and morally righteous politicians everywhere. Americans need look no farther than their own legislators for proof of that. Just ask the folks in Illinois, who, thanks to some heavy lobbying by the state’s liquor wholesalers with hefty donations to key representatives, will no longer be able to buy wine from anyone outside of their state on June 1st.

But no matter how much it sucks to be a wine lover in Chicago right now, the folks there are certainly in better shape than the French, who continue to suffer under the most asinine set of laws relating to the advertising and marketing of wine that you could possible imagine.

The latest setback for France occurred recently, as Microsoft AdCenter caved to political pressure and removed all wine advertising from its servers, scared, no doubt, of running afoul of a legislative re-interpretation of a set of laws passed in the early 1990’s that effectively outlawed wine and spirits advertising.

This latest action represents only one more in a series of indignities that the wine drinking public in France has had to suffer at the hands of an increasingly strident and powerful anti-alcohol lobby and their legislative toadies. Recently, these same folks were responsible for the utterly idiotic requirement that any news article about wine carry the same governmental health warning that the actual bottle must display.

Is it any wonder that the younger generations of France are not only drinking less wine every year and they actually consider wine to be old fashioned and too expensive? While international demand for $3000 bottles of Bordeaux seems to be rather constant, the bulk of France’s wine industry (namely the portion that is drunk by it’s citizens on a daily basis) is headed for a very bad future.

Sarkozy came to office proclaiming that he′d make reforms in the wine industry, but so far, none have been forthcoming.

So I ask you, wine lovers of the world and people of France: how long must France suffer? What is it going to take before winemakers are free to make the best wine they can; before Burgundy can suggest it’s wine is feminine without legal action; before a journalist can say that wine makes you feel good without risking the wrath of some government censor?

France needs another revolution. And America probably does too. To corrupt a little Shakespeare: “First thing we do, let’s kill all the lobbyists.”

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

There aren’t many “secret″ public wine tastings in San Francisco, but for several years, the Golden Glass tasting was about as close as you could get to a “wine insiders” tasting. Historically under-promoted, and generally not well attended, this tasting was often considered by some of my wine friends to be the single best public wine tasting in San Francisco. It may well still be.

However, this year’s Golden Glass tasting is taking a different approach to its wines. In past years this event, which is a fundraiser for Slow Food USA, has focused almost exclusively on small Italian wine producers — apropos of the fact that Slow Food was founded in Italy.

This year, however, a significant number of the wineries in attendance are from elsewhere. A large contingent from New Zealand, and substantial groups from Spain and Australia will augment a sizable number of Italian producers from all over the country.

As one might expect, the food at this event is local, and quite good. From the Fatted Calf to Chez Panisse, this event will showcase some of the best artisan food purveyors in the Bay Area. I usually recommend to readers that they show up to public tastings with a full stomach, but this is one event that might invalidate that rule.

So if you love good food and good wine, and don′t have a lot going on the first weekend in June, I highly recommend checking out this tasting.

2008 Golden Glass Tasting
Sunday June 8th, 3:00 PM - 7:00 PM
The Festival Pavilion, Fort Mason
San Francisco, CA 94123

Tickets are $50 for members of the public (discounted for members of Slow Food and other associated organizations) and should be purchased in advance online.

My usual tips for public tastings: get a good night’s sleep; drink lots of water; eat along the way; and if you want to enjoy yourself AND learn something….SPIT!

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

Finally, all is quiet. It’s past midnight and I’ve poured the last glass of 2005 J.J. Prum Graacher Himmelreich Spatlese. Way off the Italian wine trail, and loving every sip.

It’s been a long week. I’m ready to pack it up a take the long weekend. Been getting ready for a seminar I’m co-opting with the resident Master Sommelier, Sir Guy. A few days in New Orleans, for training and education at the Society of Wine Educators annual get together. Our seminar, as Sir Guy named it, Don’t pass over Ripasso, will be lots of fun. After all, we will be in the Crescent City. A little red wine, some jazz, many, many seminars, but all I can think about right now is this glass of Riesling.

Graacher Himmelreich, Heaven will reign. A white goddess this Riesling is and all these years, though I love Italian wine with all of my being, there has to be room for Riesling. When I first started out in this business, I was so damn lucky to be exposed to wines from the Mittelmosel, they are my Burgundy. There, I’ve said it.

I’ve had more site traffic in the past two days than all of April, and traffic has been growing steadily, like the price of a barrel of oil. I was Uber-Googled this week.

Speaking of oil, this Graacher sure makes something conceptually repugnant, the smell of fusel oil, pretty wonderful. And how can something so sweet be so wonderfully wine? We are all taught to shun sweet wine, but I am over it many moons ago. I could drink this wine every night. A big thanks and shout out to Marco for the gift of Graacher.

So doors seem to be opening, traffic is up, good wine is flowing, a long weekend is upon us and another trip in the wings, this time to New Orleans.

New Orleans, the American canary in the coal mine. At least since Katrina. Our poor little town, such a sadness that even Riesling cannot remove.

So, we will wait and sip and rest. Sweet surrender.

Images from Plan 59

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

I drink wine from as many different countries as I can, as often as I can. I firmly believe that the only way I keep learning anything as a wine lover will be through continued exploration.

There are times, though, when searching out new countries, grape varieties, and appellations just takes too much energy. At times like these, usually after a long week, I just want a nice meal and a good glass of wine to go with it. Like most people in these situations of part-exhaustion, I tend to stick to the predictable — the least risky choice that is most likely to yield the most pleasurable result.

So when I found myself dining alone the other night, and not wanting to think much about which white wine I wanted, I reached for a safety wine. I had never had it before, but I knew it was: white, a blend of different grapes, French, and it was from Provence.

There aren’t many sure bets in the wine world. There’s a lot of crap out there to be sure. But if you’re gonna order wine, sight unseen and untasted, I think it’s pretty hard to go wrong with most of the wines in the Cotes de Provence. At least the ones that end up getting imported here.

So there I was, sitting alone at the big communal table, watching the chefs do their thing from behind the pass. I was reading some notes I had taken from a meeting earlier in the day, and only barely noticed when the waitress put the glass down by my plate. I reached out between sentences and took a sip, and in the kind of moment that keeps me drinking wine, I was forced to pause, to savor, and to say a silent prayer of thanks for my luck at living a life in which I get to enjoy good things like this glass of wine.

Don’t get me wrong, this wine was not epiphany-creating-stuff-of-the-gods. It was just darn good, and it really hit the spot.

The family that currently owns Chateau du Rouët purchased the property in 1840 with the intention of harvesting cork from the trees on the property, and selling some of the pine wood that was particularly in demand for shipbuilding at the nearby ports of the Mediterranean. The property encompassed more than 1000 acres of forest, as well as the grounds of a sizable manor that was erected by the new owners in 1880.

Around 1920, a fire ravaged the estate, as well as some of the forest, and the current owner decided to plant a vineyard between the scrubby, fire prone hills and the forest of the estate. Though it was only a secondary consideration at the time, this began the history of wine cultivation at the estate.

Today the descendants of the original three families that purchased the property farm approximately 170 acres of vineyards at the foot of a set of hills known as the Gorges de Pennafort that rise with their red volcanic rocks and ancient caves about 1500 feet above the property. The mostly sandstone terraced vineyards are wedged between the flatlands, the hills, and a swath of Mediterranean forest of cedar, bamboo, cork oaks, maritime pines, and even palm trees. The vineyards run mostly north to south to shelter the grapes from the fierce Mistral winds that whip over the hills at certain times of the year. These winds are not all bad, however. Combined with the warmer breezes off the Mediterranean, they combine to create the cool, dry climate that allows the Cotes de Provence to create wines of great personality.

On the grounds of the winery sits a small chapel that is worthy of mention only because of the unusual doors which adorn its modest facade. These doors were taken from a sailing ship named the Le Belle Poule, which at one time was well known for one of its last voyages — a trip it made to carry home the ashes of Napoleon Bonaparte. In 1888, Lucien Savatier, who contributed greatly to the development of Chateau du Rouet’s vineyards, as part of his duties to dismantle the ship, took the doors from the cabin that housed Bonaparte′s ashes during the voyage and installed them on the chapel where they remain today.

In memory of the ship (which adorns the label even today) the winery produces a red, a white and a rose wine, all called “Cuvee Belle Poule.” The white wine is a blend of three grapes: Ugni Blanc (30%), Sémillon (20%) and Rolle (50%) from what the winery refers to as “old vines” but I’m not clear on just how old they are. 1250 cases are made.

Tasting Notes:
Pale gold in the glass, this wine has an appealing nose of pears, rainwater, and very faint melon aromas. In the mouth it is crisp, and light, and bouncy. Great acidity and mineral qualities underlie green melon and pear flavors that along with the chalky stone quality to the wine make it fantastically refreshing. Everything I want in a white wine with dinner.

Food Pairing:
I drank this with a lobster bisque the other night and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Overall Score: 9

How Much?: $18

The 2004 may be tricky to find, but the 2005 and 2006 are readily available for purchase on the internet.

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

ScienceDaily (May 21, 2008) — A process used to roast coffee beans could give Britain’s biomass a power boost, increasing the energy content of some of the UK’s leading energy crops by up to 20 per cent.

The study, carried out by engineers from the University of Leeds, examined the combustion behaviour of crops grown specifically for energy creation when put through a mild thermal process called

Original post by Robert

Yesterday when I got into the car, after a day of work, the temperature read 98°F. Today when I went into work everything seemed like it had all gone South, like I’d landed smack dab in a bowl of idiot soup. Some days, in this business, you don’t know if you’re a Seer or a Sucker. So, let’s celebrate our blissful ignorance on this Wednesday in May.

A few weeks ago I was walking around the Tompkins Square Park area in NY with a few friends and noticed one of them was wearing a seersucker blazer. We proceeded to taunt him (and to subsequently cyber-bully him), but there was a prophetic air to his apparel of choice. Now it is hotter than blazes and I gots to get me one of them seersucker blazers.

In the meantime, a little pre-summer exercise on wines that match with seersucker. Not just any seersucker, but special selections of seersucker, some designer, some just out-and-out ridiculous. But not every wine is for everyone, isn’t that right my dear friends in the Bowery?

Lyric header host for this heedless post is Steve Miller, a good ‘ol Dallas boy.

Puttin’ her rouge on, Slippin’ her shoes on, My baby′s gettin’ ready to dance
Speaking of blissful ignorance, the first is a light-hearted trio of Bubbly’s from Barefoot: a Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio and a White Zinfandel. Marks off for calling them Champagne (not a Growers one, I snarkfully presume). But major kudos for supporting a cause that is near and dear to me, the Pacific Coast chapter of the National MS Society. (And no, I am not talking about sommeliers here. Those who know me, know what I’m talking about).

Coming to you baby on a midnight train
It goes with alligator and polo it walks the walk and talks the talk. The wine is light but it isn’t simple. It’s a Matrot Meursault with a Stelvin instead of a cork. So it says cool and groovy at the same time as it says refined and sophisticated. Great for hanging around Tompkins Square Park in a brown bag till all hours of the night while waiting for the bars to open up in the morning, so you can order a Harvey Wallbanger or Ramos Gin Fizz.

I’m a joker, I’m a smoker, I’m a midnight toker
This begs to be Bio-dynamite from Berkeley, a home made garage wine from a former SDS activist in a seersucker suit. That would count out Kermit and Neal, but there’s got to be another Big Boy out there still in hiding. Actually, we found him west of the East Bay, hiding in the hills on the Ridge estate, where a Chardonnay can be found in small amounts. From their Santa Cruz Mountain vineyards, first planted to Chardonnay in the 1940’s. Our lyric host, Steve Miller said it best when he sang:
You’re the cutest thing
That I ever did see
I really love your peaches
Want to shake your tree
Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time
Ooo-eee baby, I’ll sure show you a good time
Ooe-ee Baby!

I’m a picker, I’m a grinner, I’m a lover and I’m a sinner
Like it cool and dry, but need something ripe and ready? A little tango teaser from Argentina might be the perfect match with this swatch of seersucker. We popped a bottle of Astica Torrontés the other night and my Johnny walker drinking son who said, “What is that? I like it!”
Great floral aromas, slightly moscato-like with shades of tropical gardenia. Sweet young thing, not too dry, very seer-sucker and slurp-worthy.
We even found a pair of seersucker tango shoes to go with it.

Go on take the money and run
It woulda-shoulda been a Brunello, but now I’m betting on those new ’03 Toscana IGT’s. Can’t tell you who they’ll all be ‘till after June 10, but there’ll probably be a swarm of them. Or not. Might be better with a seersucker coppola hat, as shown. Helps to cover-up your eyes from all the bright lights putting the spotlight on the garbage in Naples that has found its way to the dumps in Tuscany?

Her lips are red, Her body is soft, She is a movin’ volcano
That would be a red wine from Sicily, what else? From Tenuta delle Terre Nere Etna Rosso: Nerello Mascalese with a little Nerello Cappuccio. With a little up tick in the activity on the slopes of Etna, and here we go lookin’ for some grass fed Baw’b que. Enough to turn a vegetarian into a flexatarian for a night. Livin’ in the USA.

Tired of the war and those industrial fools
You know what I’m talking about, maybe it’s that wealthy industrialist whop made a gazillion bucks in the gas and oil industry who decided to chuck it all and set up shop in the Rutherford Bench? Now he’s planning on how to save the world from low-scoring unoaked wines. This calls for a seersucker selection from Rosenthal wines, n’est-ce pas? A Cassis Blanc from Domaine du Bagnol: Marsanne, Clairette and Ugni Blanc in a fruity aromatic cease fire from the madness of making the daily bread. I had this wine a few weeks ago, after a night of Gravner, and I can still taste, and remember this wine for its clarity and its joyful purity. Peace, y’all.

Abra-abra-cadabra, I want to reach out and grab ya
From Puglia a Fiano-Greco , Prima Mano. Reaches right out of the glass and grabs ya and doesn’t wrinkle the seersucker. Clear flavors, bright and not spoofed up. No smoke and mirrors, just a clean shake and a hangover-free morning.

Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah. Some call me the gangster of love
From the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, a Sauvignon Blanc from Linden Vineyards. I like what the winemaker says,” Rather than having a wine defined by oak and alcohol, I prefer a wine that is defined by its ‘sap’”. Less than 300 cases made, so you’re gonna hafta call yore relatives if’n you wants some.

Somebody give me a cheeseburger
All those hot dogs earlier in the month, during a field trip to Brooklyn, got me to thinking about a reddish wine to go with them. The closest I got was thinking about a wine from Kermit Lynch from Corte Gardoni, a Bardolino Chiaretto (Rosato). I can has hot dog? And free range and grass fed if I wants to? Yes I can. Just in time for the Seersucker Invitational Park Slope Bocce Ball Tournament.

Good night and “Gob-less”.

Original post by Alfonso Cevola

Review by Tim Patterson.

Biodynamic grapegrowing and winemaking have gotten a great deal of press in recent years, far out of proportion to the planted acreage involved. Much like the coverage for the adventures of Britney Spears–also wildly outstripping the extent of her creative resume–biodynamics write-ups have tended toward the sensational, even the salacious, emphasizing the ritual usage of cow dung and excursions into pop astrology.

At the same time, there is no denying that the international Who’s Who of biodynamic growers and winemakers turns out some mighty tasty wine–Chapoutier in the Rhone, Zind Humbrecht and Ostertag in Alsace, Domaine Leroy and LeFlaive in Burgundy, Nikolaihof in Austria, Sinskey and Araujo in California, the list goes on and on. Chances are these folks are doing something right.

So when, in the midst of this perplex, there comes a book written by a leading Franch practitioner of the biodynamic arts, Loire winemaker Nicolas Joly (somehow Americanized as Nicholas with an “h” for this edition), and it bears the tell-all title, Biodynamic Wine, Demystified, inquiring minds may want to snap it up.

Be forewarned that the book delivers nothing resembling the promise of its title. You might well want to read it, but not in hopes of figuring out, say, what science may lay behind the alleged effects of the phases of the moon on the growing cycle or the soil chemistry findings that validate the cherished cow plops. Very few of the 174 pages of Biodynamic Wine, Demystified are devoted to the examination of practical, hands-on techniques, fewer in fact than in Joly’s earlier book (1999), Wine from Sky to Earth. Rather, the purpose of the volume is to advance a philosophical perspective, a central tenet of which is that if there is nothing mystical left to enrich the process of making wine, there’s no point in doing it.

The chapter on The Cellar, the longest in the book, is a good example. Judging from the title, you might expect here some explanation of what difference it makes when wine movements are timed to the lunar calendar, or perhaps some tips on avoiding spoilage without the use of chemicals. Instead, we get disquisitions about Euclid and Hippocrates, ramblings about the nature of gravity, electricity and magnetism, an exegesis of the Platonic theory of Forms, a detour into the law of harmonies, and much, much more.

These arguments don’t read like anything recognizably scientific (let alone relevant) until we realize that Joly–like Rudolf Steiner, the early 20th century founder of biodynamics, before him–has an entirely different view of what science is. For Steiner/Joly, ancient science was on the right track and medieval science was better yet. But when the Enlightenment hit, bringing rationalism, empiricism, and the experimental method with it, True Science got lost in the shuffle. Perhaps Joly’s most dismissive epithet comes when he calls an idea “Cartesian,” that is, in the manner of the 17th century French philosopher Rene Descartes–known to history for helping invent the calculus, not for his winemaking skills.

Along the way, Joly does take impassioned swipes at a number of contemporary commercial winemaking practices–the use of cultivated yeast strains that change a grape’s inherent aromatic profile, injecting tiny amounts of oxygen to speed up the aging process, or condensing grape must by removing water in order to make a more concentrated wine. All these practices are, for Joly, inevitable outgrowths of adopting the mechanistic, overly materialistic worldview that passes for modern science. He issues a call to return to the winemaking practices of the 1940s and 1950s–a terrifying thought to most anyone involved in the wine industry.

As an exercise in armchair philosophy and amateur intellectual history, Joly’s book is a captivating read. He’s intensely committed to the positions he argues, and he constantly surprises the reader with yet another excursion into something unexpected. What other wine book (since the 12th century) offers a refresher on The Four Temperaments, Choleric, Sanguine, Phlegmatic and Melancholy?

The fundamental reason Joly is so worked up is that he’s convinced that modern winemaking obliterates the power of terroir, the expression of a place in its wines and other agricultural products. He’s got a point, and nearly all of the practitioners of biodynamics I’ve interviewed over the years say that’s what got them intrigued by the system in the first place. Biodynamics takes organic farming practices and wraps them as broader conception of the farm / the vineyard as a coherent organism, where inputs and outputs of resources work in harmony. It’s a stark contrast to the industrial, agro-chemical model–first sterilize the land, then pump it full of petroleum derivatives.

Signing on for the program in no way requires embracing Joly’s ideas about Platonic Forms, nor does it require, according so some prominent biodynamic winemakers, staying awake during Joly’s periodic lecture tours. There’s the philosophy–and then there’s a winery to run.

If you haven’t had a Humanities 110 refresher for a while, read this book. If you want to understand the nitty-gritty of natural winemaking techniques in the vineyard and the cellar, keep browsing.

Nicholas Joly, Biodynamic Wine, Demystified, Wine Appreciation Guild, 2008, $24.95 (Paperback).

Tim Patterson writes for several wine magazines, blogs at Blind Muscat’s Cellarbook, and co-edits the Vinography book review section.

Original post by Alfonso Cevola