Please help me understand why I find these tasting notes written by a local wine store so troubling? I say crazy shit, but this reads like a potpourri of meat vomit projecting in every direction.
Roasted marrowbones, cured meat, black olive, minerals and cracked black pepper are wrapped in layers of violets, wet tobacco and warm soil.
- Is it because the aroma described matches the fragrance of my grandmother’s cooking mixed with a large dose of her perfume?
- Is it because marrowbones and minerals sound like a calcium supplement I should be taking to prevent osteoporosis?
- Is it because I realize I need to infuse more meat products into my own writing?
- Is it because I feel they’re trying too hard?
I don’t know, but it really bothers me….
Posted in Syrah, Wine
Tagged Syrah, Wine
Colored smoke? I’m all for theatrics, but that one seems a little outdated. Perhaps that’s the ultimate irony, but… I digress. By the way, it’s not like Jews don’t do a lot of weird shit too. Point taken.
So there’s an Argentinian in the house, which gives pause and wonderment to whether the Eucharist wine will now be of the South American sway?’ (Slow down! The house is still Italian…)
Still, I’m proposing – the lovely Tempus Tempranillo from Mendoza, which seems wildly appropriate for this auspicious occasion. Why? Because it sounds like TEMPLAR, which sounds like TEMPEST, which besides being a Shakespeare play, I’ve just learned, is a codename referring to investigations and studies of compromising emanations (CE). I know!
You can say a lot about the Catholic church, but compromising emanation may just be going too far… Or is it? There’s no shortage of a naughty implication in a compromising emanation. (Rhyme!) That’s right, if you use it in a sentence, it’s hard to not blush a little! Think back to the last time you were found in a compromising emanation. Just sayin’.
Compromised or not, this is a very fortuitous moment. Tempus is dark and venerable. It’s heady and holy, something to fall in love with again and again. Adoration? Sure, why not? This wine is cloaked in a rich velvet robe of dark fruit and ruby spice, layered in a rosary of complex intensity. It emanates virgin vanilla and finishes with a smooth sense of moral judgment. Forgive me father for I have sinned. Calm down, I’m just quoting a Madonna song says the Jewish girl.
I’d take snakes on a plane over screaming babies any day. Traveling from DC to Seattle is no short flight. And the screeching emitting from this small bundle was like no sound I’d ever heard. Maybe from a car with a broken fanbelt, but never from a human. And yes, I realize most people go to a place of empathy; poor baby. I go to “how much more can I take before I have no choice but to slit my wrists with a safety pin!”
This baby was making such guttural, throatal sounds that I thought its head might pop off. And then of course I started thinking, what does one drink when a baby’s head pops off? On a plane, your choices are limited, so it’s always good to anticipate these things.
Iris Vineyard, 2009, Pinot Noir from Oregon could work. It provides the calm I need in a moment of complete chaos. This wine is light, a little more squawky than I like, but non-offensive and non-remarkable. It might be brighter with food, but it seemed inappropriate to ask the flight attendant to whip up an appetizer for me to de-acid-ify the wine. I’m probably inappropriate enough as it is. The thing is this wine achieved the goal. It was a fine distraction – not terribly interesting but absolutely good enough. Which happened to be the last name of a person my seatmate and I were gossiping about. Jennifer Goodenough. Now that’s something to cry about!
PS – Some will find this offensive for a variety of reasons. I know that. I’m okay with it. Also, the baby was pretty damn cute. But that’s beside the point.
Dear Teri – I run a daycare from my home and am disturbed by my next-door neighbor who insists on sunbathing in her back yard in the nude. There is really not much room in between our houses and it’s a matter of time before the children see. I am embarrassed to say anything because it is her property. I’m not sure what to do.
Hmm. What to do…. keep the shades drawn, the children inside? Buy a higher fence? Maybe some bushes? And while you’re sitting in the dark with swarms of children running though your house, turn fast to a glass of Sagelands, 2008, Columbia Valley, Riesling. This Riesling plays well in everyone’s kiddy pool. It’s a golden explosion of light-bright crispness and a balance of lemon, melon and honey smoothness. It’s a lovely way to get to know your neighbor naked or not. Maybe a quick conversation over a glass of this prettiness; what’s the worst that can happen? Only that you succumb to your bi-curious ways and the state shuts you down anyway.
That’s the last one on advice….for now.
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 he’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.
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 would 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.
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.
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.