Monthly Archives: February 2013

Burn My Desire with Wine and a Quarterback

Dear Teri  Yesterday my neighbor told me they are moving out of state. We have been fine neighbors, but not close. She asked whether we would let her 17-year-old son live with us while he finished his senior year. We barely know these people and are shocked they want us to care for their son. What should we do?

I don’t know. Do you want to live with a 17-year-old boy in your basement? If images-1he’s the quarterback of the football team it might be something to consider.  He’ll turn 18 soon and you can ponder that over a glass of Burning Desire (what!), Hard Row to Hoe’s, Estate Cabernet Franc. Wowza, this is a ripe idea that’s built for comfort.  With its wet earth and tobacco sensibilities It insuculates you like the first bra your mom bought you when you were 9; I mean 13. A snap of plump plum and blackberry whips you back to your senses for now…. More? Well, I don’t see why not.

Moron Friends, Doorknob Husbands and Thorny Rose Wine

Rolling on in my fantasy of wanting to be a advice columnist…

Dear Teri: I have a 19-month-old and a 34-month-old. Our family was invited to the childless home of our friends, and when we arrived, I scurried around childproofing. I moved their expensive items up out of reach, but my friends insisted on putting everything back. When an expensive piece of art was dropped, they were peeved. I felt I did my best in policing the children but still feel I should offer to pay the insurance deductible. My husband says to let it go because they asked for it.

Wow, where do I start? First, unless your kid just popped out of your womb or you’re describing wine in barrel, there’s no legitimate reason to use months as a measure of age. Your kids are 1 and almost 3. Only really annoying people force a listener to do the math. Second, if you hit my house like a tornado, I’d be miffed. And lastly, a babysitter would have been cheaper than the deductible, and yes you should pay it. (Your husband is a doorknob.) Now, should I tell you what I imageswould drink if I had annoying friends like you? Or should I tell you the best bottle to give as a gift if you want to save what’s left of this friendship. Turns out they’re one in the same: Thorny Rose 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon, Columbia Valley, is dark and dense (oh, you can relate?) with blackberry and cherry rolled into dirty bits of dark chocolate. It’s straightforward and uncomplicated — with a ‘leave your kids at home’ finish. Trust me, you’ll make the right decision next time — if there is a next time.

No More Excuses! Gorman Winery ‘Pixie’ Paired with Peacock

Lucy! You have some ‘splainin’ to do! Here goes….My last blog post was my last bad date, and then I stopped drinking.  That’s the good news; the bad date, I mean.   For the last year, I’ve been dating a fantastically awesome guy….who doesn’t drink. That’s the bad news.

But it’s no excuse.  I’m getting back on the wagon and drinking up a storm in an effort to not fall off again. The next few posts are from a favorite Wine Press Northwest column that nobody’s probably read.  I always wanted to be an advice columnist. Here we go….

Dear Teri: My roommate enjoys birds and keeps several birdcages in our apartment with parrots, cockatiels and finches. The cages are immaculate, and there is only one problem: This winter three of her birds died, and my roommate wrapped them up and put them in our freezer. It’s a little bird morgue in there and kind of freaks me out.images

Ooooh! This is juicy. Tell your roommate Huey, Dewey and Louie are no longer parked between the carrots and the ice cubes. In fact, they’ve had a dignified sendoff right into their final resting place — a deep-dish baking pan. Olive oil, thyme and rosemary should mask any trace of freezer burn. Voila! You are in for one exotic evening. While I’ve never tasted parrot or anyone’s pet for that matter, I have to believe that Gorman Winery, Pixie 2009 Syrah will be a lovely accoutrement to roasted peacock or the like. This wine is smoky and sedultry. It’s dark with chewy tar. And a bite of this wine makes a fork full of cockatiel a non sequitur that pales in comparison. Is it that good? Indeed, it’s that good.