Fermentation: The Daily Wine Blog

The Velvet Bite

I'm going to buy this wine...because I just think it's terribly cool that a winery would honor one of the greatest jazz vocalists in the history of the genre. (Have you ever heard Ella sing "mack the knife"?!!?)

However, I'm probably not going to drink this Domaine Carneros Sparkling Wine while listening to any jazz, including Ella. Here's why.

I've long believed that even given the range and the diversity of the Jazz genre, the absolutely most appropriate drink to accompany Jazz is something that attacks the senses, throat, palate and body with a Velvet Bite.

No pure wine I've ever consumed possesses this quality.

By "Velvet Bite" I mean, first, that sensation of a subtle sting that warms just as the sting diminishes when the liquid is poured over your palate. You need to feel the relief of the alcohol sting diminishing just as the alcohol also begins to warm the throat and stomach. 

There must be a soft clamping down on the palate that does not linger, but also is not escapable. The sensation alerts the senses in a momentary shock like no wine can do, yet fades away, relinquishing its bite in favor of alertness and warmth.

This state, I think, is best suited for listening to Jazz. Bourbon, Whiskey, Scotch and even cognac and armagnac are the proper drinks to pair with Jazz; best suited to provide a velvet bite.

Further, I believe the full affect of pairing the Velvet Bite with Jazz occurs when a shot of any of the above beverages is taken in advance of sipping on a second round of the same. And, how this shot is performed can affect the pleasure of the pairing even more if done right.

The shot, while it should be taken in all at once, should not be targeted at the throat so that it slips down past the palate with minimal contact. On the other hand, taking time to swish the beverage around the palate will also ruin the experience. Rather, the throat should be half to 3/4s closed when the shot enters the mouth. The partially closed throat will promote a slow movement of the bourbon over the palate, followed in quick order by it slowly sliding down the gullet. The technique delivers the bite, but does not sear the palate. And at the same time, a decent amount of alcohol enters the body and the blood stream in relatively quick fashion.

Yes, I'm suggesting that Jazz is best appreciated with a slight buzz. Not a "drunk". But a warm, comfortable, smirk inducing buzz.

It should be noted that after the initial shot of our preferred beverage, the second round can be sipped, and probably enjoyed even more due to the palate, body and mind having been properly prepared by the initial shot.

Wine is simply too week to stand up to the challenging nature of jazz; the subtle, complex and sometimes jolting nature of jazz rhythms require the body to be properly prepared with an anesthesia that both weakens one's grip on convention, yet provides a bite.

Thus, Jazz is best paired with beverage.

The Van Morrison Theory of Wine

Having reconciled myself to the idea that there is no such thing as an objective criteria for quality in any category of wine, I began deliberating on what I think we all must do to bring reason to our palate and preferences; to put our preferential house in order, so to speak.

What I began looking for were other artistic (yes, artistic) creations that might serve as a model for my personal beliefs about wine quality. What I was looking for were expressions in other art forms that, for lack of a better word, "touched" me in a way that was inescapably real and visceral. Upon experiencing this unique sort of touch, I then asked myself what it was about the work of art that was able to move me...move me to tears, joy, elation, contemplation. If I could identify what it was that moved me through another art form, I just might have a model for describing what, for me, represents quality.

I found my model, and it wasn't too hard to find: Van Morrison.

Listening all the way through Morrison's "Moondance", "Astral Weeks" and "Hymns To Silence" albums touch me deeply, and they do so every time I listen to them. Absorbing Morrison's eloquent "Rave on John Donne", "Into the Mystic", "Crazy Love", and "On Hyndford Street" always stop me in my tracks.

So what is it about this music and artist that is so arresting for me personally? Authenticity. The authenticity of the sound of Van Morrison, the authenticity of the expressions in the works, the authentic input of unadulterated instrumentation carried out by the hands of man, rather that the 1's and 0's of computer-generated sound. There is Affinity to deal with here too. The connection that Morrison's music makes with me has a great deal to do with the substance of his message and feeling, most of which I clearly have an affinity.

Can a wine touch me in the same way? I don't know. I don't think so. But I do know that the qualities that I find in Van Morrison's music can be found in wine and I'm sure that when I see or taste their expression I'll know that I've come across my version of "high quality" wine.

It's important to begin here with the acknowledgment that there is a real similarity between great wine and great music. There can be no mistaking Van Morrison. No one else sounds like him. He has, as it were, a "house style", a sound that identifies him just as a great winery will also have a voice that comes through in all its wines. Perhaps its a deft touch. Perhaps it's a rustic-ness or a purity of flavor that runs across its wines.

Yet while always being unmistakably "Morrison", the man has investigated and experimented with many different genre of music from R&B and Rock n Roll to Country and Jazz. Wineries too do just this as they work with different varieties of grapes. The resulting wines will carry the voice of the winery, but the character of the grape will also come shining through.

Finally, in listening through Morrison's more than thirty years worth of recordings it's quite clear that the personal changes, tragedies, failure and victories that make up his life are communicated in his various musical stages, be they immensely spiritual in nature, Christian in substance, bound to his Irish homeland or born of his aging voice. Wineries too must reflect the changes they are confronted with and, like Morrison, seemingly unable to direct in the form of vintage variation. The winery will always have a voice and will certainly experiment with different varieties, but they too will be subject to the untamable variation in vintage.

So, we have a solid connection and similarity between music and wine that allows me to use the music model to understand and define my notion of "great wine".

Can then, a wine be, above all, "authentic"? Most certainly it can. A wine can be a representation of a place and people. It can in its origin and treatment be authentically OF a real place. And it can authentically represent the voice and interpretation of a winemaker or winery without losing that authenticity of place. That is to say, aging a wine in oak or whole cluster pressing the grapes or use of particular yeasts that are not native can all be expressions of a winemaker's unique touch or voice, and all the while not necessarily extract what the place from which the grapes came brought to the wine.

I think I need to admit that just as I have developed a certain intimacy with the music and message of Van Morrison, I'd need to develop an intimate relationship or understanding with the winery and its wines' 'places" to be able to say, "Ah, this is authentic". And this of course brings us back the fundamental truth that leads to this uncomfortably long  and indulgent post: that there is no such thing as objective criteria for greatness in wine, but rather only the comfort that comes with familiarity and affinity that lets each of us define greatness.

There is one more final question that all the above begs: Who's familiar experiences and affinities will define your criteria for greatness?

A Selection of Lyrics from Van Morrison's
"RAVE ON JOHN DONNE" From the "Inarticulate Speech of the Heart" Album

Rave on, you left us infinity
And well pressed pages torn to fade
Drive on with wild abandon
Up tempo, frenzied heels

Rave on, Walt Whitman, nose down in wet grass
Rave on fill the senses
On nature's bright green shady path

Rave on Omar Khayyam, Rave on Kahlil Gibran
Oh, what sweet wine we drinketh
The celebration will be held
We will partake the wine and break the Holy bread

Rave on let a man come out of Ireland
Rave on on Mr. Yeats,
Rave on down through the Holy Rosey Cross
Rave on down through theosophy, and the Golden Dawn
Rave on through the writing of "A Vision"
Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on, Rave on

Rave on John Donne, rave on thy Holy fool
Down through the weeks of ages
In the moss borne dark dank pools

Rejoice Ever More

Depending on your spiritual and moral disposition, there may not be anything too wrong with beating a dead horse. This post might reveal my spiritual and moral disposition.

I wonder if the critical establishment surrounding wine is too unforgiving. I wonder if the predilection among the reviewing class is that it tends to oversubscribe to the notion that a wine can be too wrong, rather that right enough for those who will put up with its character.

Oddly I was once again brought back to this issue of reviews, quality, preference and standards in wine upon viewing the last episode of HBO's brilliant "John Adams". The last episode, entitled "Peacefield" is a brave and beautiful meditation on legacy, and that all too human combination of joy and sorrow that appears to be a symptom of the end of life.

I've been very pessimistic lately of the probability that any set of quality standards can be rationally conceived when it comes to wine. And even after taking the counsel of a number of the "Wise Men" of the wine reviewing trade, taking to them my doubts, and having been reassured by them that some measure of standards can be construed if only we have an appreciation of man's unchanging physiology, I find I remain pessimistic on this issue.

In the last episode we see the former President Adams in the last years of his life at his family home. Death and irrelevancy surround him as his dear wife and best adviser Abigail dies, his daughter dies of breast cancer, his revolutionary compatriots slowly wither and die and his own significance in political matters seems to amount to very little other than his symbolic value as one of the remaining founders. And yet, Adams is able to overcome all this and is able to insist to his youngest son, "Rejoice Everymore!" as he takes in the beauty of nature on an early evening stroll.

I wonder if there is a brand of wine connoisseurship and wine writing that places the focus on rejoicing rather than reviewing, even in the face of the competition, the business, the tackiness and the need to be bigger and better? I wonder if the world of wine can be described by its chroniclers more as an adventure, intellectually and sensually, than as a world of ranks and precedents?

This would take a great deal of forgiveness on the part of those who tell wine's story; forgiveness of imperfection, forgiveness for wines being less than we desire, and writers themselves seeking forgiveness from those who have relied on the writer to offer joy, hope and discovery rather than decimals, points, numbers and flaws.

I'm not suggesting that reviews of wines ought to disappear. But I wonder if they might become something more. I wonder if the best writing might be known as that which rejoices in simply finding something new that isn't quite up to our standards but which is best described as surely up to another's standards.

Confessions of Self-Damaged, Ego-Centric Whore

Two sets of unsolicited wine samples showed up at my door yesterday. (Thank you, both!) They will get drunk, but they won't get reviewed here at FERMENTATION.

I was looking back over some earlier posts of mine and one in which I offer some resolutions for a coming year noted my desire to find someone competent to review wines at Fermentation. I think when I wrote that I must have been thinking that this lack of wine reviews at Fermentation was holding back my blog from a larger readership.

I guess this desire wasn't as strong as I thought it might be because I've never seriously looked for anyone to  review wines here. And I'm not going to begin either.

Why not post wine reviews at this blog? There are many good reasons for this:

1. Because I find bad reviews of wines more interesting I'd end up writing more of those. This is not good for my business. Wark Communications can do a very good job representing wineries that produce wines that don't appeal to me. But it's unlikely that wineries that know in advance their wines don't appeal to me will want me to represent them. I think that makes me one step down from a whore.

2. I have an extraordinarily prejudiced palate that narrows far too much the scope of wines that appeal to me.

3. I can't review wines nearly as well as 30% or so of the folks already doing so on the net nor as well as 50% of the reviewers that have gigs with wine magazines and newsletters. Who wants to sit in the 2nd and 3rd quartile of anything?

4. I think I've diminished my palate over the years through too many cigars and cigarettes.

What this all boils down to is that I don't review wines at FERMENTATION because I'm a self-damaged, ego-centric whore with a hint of integrity.

It also means that wineries should save their samples for wine bloggers that are better suited to reviewing wines.

I'm A Twit!!

Am I a Twit?

God knows I've had this shingle hung around my neck by a few dismissive folks over the years.

But I've never willingly adopted the moniker. Until Now.

TOM'S NEW TWITTER FEED.

Yes, I joined twitter. I'm not quite committed to the TwitterRevolution as I'm not sure how it will increase my productivity as a blogger or quality as a blogger or the readership of my blog. Nor am I sure how it will increase the quality of the work I do for my Wark Communications clients. Both these considerations will determine if I remain a Twit.

It seems to me that one's enthusiastic adoption of Twitter into their daily lives amounts to taking the real plunge into social networking. Blogs are one thing. Scanning social networks (Open Wine Consortium) is another. But relenting to receiving tiny messages at random times from any number of of folks you choose to follow really seems like a leap to me.

I'm trying to figure out what place the following twitter message has in my daily life: "It's colder today. Sun trying to get through."

At this point, I think there might be potential to use Twitter as a way to point Fermentation readers who use twitter toward intriguing news and information that may not warrant a post at Fermentation. In addition, it might be a way to guerrilla-ize my communication work on behalf of Wark Communication clients. For example. I might send out this kind of twitter: "Mayo Winery Launches New Reserve Room Food/Wine Menu: http://www.mayofamilywinery.com/mayofamily/page/reserve_room.jsp (shortening the URL, of course)

If I take this route I'll find out somewhat quickly what type of client info is acceptable to my "followers"—that does sound nice: FOLLOWERS...Like I have some sort of torch-wielding army at my disposal.

In any case, there is an experiment underway here.

I'd love to hear from others who live in and around the on-line wine world just how useful or intrusive they've found Twitter to be.

Tales of the Obsessed

How does one measure the damage done by someone's pursuit of their obsession?

I think inevitably it is a measure of the disregard one shows toward those other parts of the obsessed one's life that suffer as a result of otherwise due amounts of attention being spent on the object of the obsession. This begs the questions, can any obsession be healthy and can an obsession really be termed that if the those other parts of one's life remains intact, functioning or happy.

I think the answers are "no" and "no".

I have to bring this up because I know a fella who is going through a divorce instigated by his soon to be ex-wife. Among her complaints is "an obsession with wine and wine collecting that has disconnected him from his family and created an undue degree of debt attached to the family's finances."

Wow!

If not directly involved, one never know the true extent of claims made in the course of a filing for a divorce.  But knowing this fella as I do, it's unlikely that the claim is untrue and it's further unlikely that he'd ever try to deny this claim.

-He maintains two off-site wine storage facilities.
-I've watched him join three winery wine clubs in a single day
-He has two credit cards devoted entirely to wine purchases
-He will not drink out of anything other than Riedel and he has a different glass for every varietal
-He's always the last person to leave a tasting
-He sold a car to pay for 2005 Bordeaux futures
-He went to Napa for last summer's vacation, while his wife took the kids to Orlando.

I don't know if this tale gives any of my readers pause. It did me.

In fact, it made me examine my own life to make sure my own interests are not in danger of becoming obsessions. I think we slide slowly from an "interest" to "obsession" often without even knowing it's happening. And I think an interest in wine can be particularly prone to becoming an obsession given the variety of wines that exist and the fascination that this variety can breed.

Lesson: If you are going to start a family, make it your only obsession.

A Little Luck is Always in Order

So it happened again.

I won another poker tournament.

This time I was not up against a final player who  appeared more interested in his vodka than the game. Rather, I was up against a player who had recently made it to the final two tables of the World Series of Poker.

This was the second hold'em tournament I've won in the last six I've entered, including a 7th place finish also. Upon winning a good friend suggested I needed to do this more often, that I was a damn good poker player. I am, however, inclined to find explanation for this success, for now, in another fact that is all too easy to forget about: luck.

It's just like the winemaker. How much luck is really involved in making a good bottle of wine? Enough to pay deference to the Gods I think. I'm thinking here of the weather. I recently heard a story about the Tennessee winemakers who not only lost a crop due to a deep freeze, but many of them lost their vineyards due to the freak cold snap. And in California at this very moment we are at the point where an untimely frost could devastate those vineyards that are now budding out just about everywhere. And this doesn't even get us to the issue of rain in the fall. I submit that in order to make a good bottle of wine, one has to agree to put themselves in fate's hands.

I got lucky when I was dealt two aces and two other players were dealt two kings and two queens. It was a big bet and a raise before it got to me, allowing an all in bet by me that led to two calls. I was lucky. The other two players played well, but were unlucky.

I suppose the issue is perspective. I've always looked curiously at those who say, "I don't believe in luck". As though any rationalization for such a statement could ever justify its absurdity. The grapegrower is a firm believer in luck. They hope for it. The better grapegrowers are sensible enough to pray for it even if they are atheists.

For those of us who really want to see lots of very good wine on the market, but aren't involved in growing the grapes we too should hope and pray for luck where the weather and grapegrowing is concerned. Right now across Sonoma and Napa vines are taking on that tinge of green as small buds open and spread patterns of green across the vineyards. It's a marvelous sight. Like all spring occurrences it's a symbol of hope. New beginning. But hope implies potential. What we are looking for this time of year is the opportunity for the grapegrowers to apply their skills and talents. But they'll need a just a little luck for the next month to assure they get to that point.

I needed a little luck to win number 2. Skill and talent played a role but it would not have mattered had I not been lucky.

This Wine is Gay!

I've been thinking about what it means to be Gay.

It's not that the wives of my male friends have to start worrying about my charms. No, instead I've been thinking about the notion of marketing wine to the gay niche. It came about when the folks at the "Food & Wine For the Gay Palate" blog asked if they could post an old entry of mine about the subject of a gay-facing wine website. At this blog there is a truly fascinating post about a wine called "Pansy" that is produced for and marketed to the Gay community.

Now, marketing wine to the Gay community isn't brain surgery. You do it in the same way you'd market wine specifically to the Hispanic community or the Baseball loving community or the community of middle aged snake charmers: you simply speak to them directly in a voice, with an attitude and with language that they'll recognize. In large part it's about paying attention to them and their specific world view.

But what I'm really interested in and what I found fascinating about "Pansy" is the idea of producing a wine that is made for the "gay palate". According to Erica Crawford, Pansy's Co-founder:

"We didn't want to make a winemaker's wine. The first one we made was 4 grams RS (residual sugar); I'd like it bone-dry but it's important to make wine for your consumers, not for yourself."

I get the idea that a wine aimed specifically at the Gay community might naturally be a rose or pink wine. After all, trading on stereotypes that are adopted and even not adopted by groups is a standard method of speaking to a group in voice they will recognize as their own. The association of the color pink with the Gay community is an old and recognizable one. But here, according to Ms. Crawford, the direct implication is that the proper way to make a wine that will appeal to the gay community is to make the wine pretty damn sweet.

I can't figure this out. But I'm trying. A 4% Residual Sugar Rose borders on being slightly alcoholic soda pop. You really need to chill that thing down to make it drinkable. Personally, I'd be pouring it over ice and sipping it while floating on a lounger in the pool on a warm day. It's the kind of wine you give to someone who doesn't drink wine because, "wine's just too sour!". Consider that the vast majority of "White Zinfandel" on the market comes in at about 1% to 3% residual sugar. This one is 4%. A half of percent residual sugar is very noticeable.

Does one's palate become particularly attuned to sweetness once it is determined they are gay?

Or is this just another case of "speaking" to the Gay community in a liquid language that they would recognize?

If this is a case of speaking a liquid language recognizable by Gays then we are witnessing a really intricate form of marketing. It would be a case of recognizing that the sensation of sweetness on the palate is not just a physiological experience whereby sweetness is detected by "G protein" receptors found on tastebuds. It would also be a recognition that "sweetness" experienced on the palate can act as a language that gays can "read" and comprehend as specifically applying to them.

This raises a number of questions. Do gays acquire a taste for sweetness far beyond that of straights by virtue of consuming larger amounts of sweet foods? I don't think so.

Is there a genetic connection between the "gay gene" and a gene for appreciating sweetness on the palate. Who knows? At the least we know this hasn't been demonstrated and I'd be inclined to doubt it.

Instead I think it's a matter of again falling back on stereotypes that work as a form of communication that can be used in marketing. The stereotype of gay men being feminine, "light in the loafers", and drastically unmasculine seems to mesh well with the concept and associations that come with "sweetness". And this begs the question, could a wine made for the gay community be successful were it a big, brawny, tanic, dry Petite Sirah?

I don't know the answer to this question, but I suspect that one could just as easily make and successfully market such a wine to the gay community just by falling back on standard marketing techniques that have the marketer paying real attention to the community it is selling to and speaking in a language that is theirs and that they would recognize.

Still, I'm lead to wonder if their are styles (sweet, dry, big, alcoholic, fruity, earthy) of wines that one would produce specifically for another demographic or community. What kind of wine, for example, would one produce for Golfers or Fans of "Oprah" or Liberals or Rockhounds or Trekkies?

The analysis of the social and intellectual meaning of Sweet, Bitter, Tannic, Dry, Alcoholic, Fruity, Earthy and other wine styles is one that probably deserves some significant investigation. Yet I'm convinced that using any meanings associated with these characteristics of wine to sell more wine to a particular niche group will not work without a explicit pitch to the group through other, more direct means—such as speaking directly to that group and saying, "this wine is for you" just as the folks at Kim Crawford Wines have done with "Pansy".

And what of the name of this wine—"Pansy". Clearly it is a case of the now common practice of groups re-appropriating and embracing a disparaging term in order to diminish its usefulness as a slur—a tool I'm very much in favor of using in a world where language is too often used slap folks around with. Any marketer would have to be extraordinarily careful in using such a tool. Yet in this case it appears to not have caused any problems.

So, this has all set me on a mission: if a style of wine can be used to market that wine to the gay community, I want to try to figure out what style of wine needs to be produced to market specifically to the bland, vanilla, over-bite-while-dancing, wine-country-living, over worked, straight male niche.

I'm Choosing to Torture the Kids...It's Only Fair.

It's a fair rule I think that on your birthday you get to do whatever you want...within reason and mostly within the law.

With that in mind, I'm choosing to torture my kids today.

No, I'm not going to force booze and wine down their throats. I'm going for the next best thing:

I'm dragging them to a Jazz Club in San Francisco. They could think of other things to do. But, they know the rules about birthdays.

There I'll pour booze and wine down my own throat and the kids will satisfy the two drink minimum via Shirley Temples, Roy Rodgers or whatever else the kids are drinking these days. But the best part is the great fun I'll have hanging with the wonderful wife and exposing the kids for the first time to the transporting and sublime nature of a real night club (sans smoke) where real jazz  is played.

While I can imagine there might be a few folks out there who take as kindly to this idea as some of them did to the idea of exposing my children to small sips of wine at a young age, I really can't imagine what would provoke me to care about this particular brand of NannyPrude.

That said, here's the plan. The wife has something planned for late in the afternoon that involves loading us all up in the car and heading south to San Francisco. That's followed by an outrageously good dinner at a fine SF steak house where I will closely study what is likely to be a 25 page wine list filled with esoterica and wines ranging in age from 3 to 30 and beyond. But first, it's important to start off with a Manhattan straight up. After all, a certain civilized approach is necessary before the gorging, isn't it?

I'll instruct the waiter not to trim any fat off my steak since that glint of fat attached to the scorched medium rare flesh is really what makes it all worth while. The creamed spinach will come in a fine, silver serving tray (is there a better way to expose kids to the joys of spinach?).

And I'll get to down my Manhattan, imbibe my fat-lined steak, indulge in the best (the only?) way spinach can be prepared, savor my old wine and watch my family carry out their purpose in life: make me smile.

Then it's off to Pearls to see the Collective West Jazz Band and spend an hour or so trying to explain to Trey and Hayley the difference between "Big Band", "Be Bop" and "West Coast Cool" and why jazz always sounds different and better in a club than on an iPod.

I'm not sure it's an altogether good thing to allow your kids to see you so fully pamper yourself. But their presence is necessary in this case. Ginny is used to and quite good and encouraging me, so I'm covered their.

Surprises. Manhattans. Great Wine. Fat-lined and marbled steak. A platter of creamed spinach. Jazz. More wine. Kids. Wife. Yep. Must be my birthday.

All Is Good In The World

Roger Clemons is testifying in front of Congress on steroids use in baseball.

Barry Bonds is effectively out of baseball.

My beloved San Francisco Giants are predicted to come in last place.

But none of that matters...

PITCHERS REPORT TO SPRING TRAINING TODAY!!!

All is good in the world.

Just as the coming of spring is the moment when hope takes over for vineyard owners who see a new growing season rapidly approaching, so too is the opening of  baseball's spring training camps the time when I imagine that for the first time in my life my San Francisco Giants just might win the world series...for the first time in my lifetime.

I can't even begin to imagine the appropriate wine to open were such an event to take place. I suspect there really isn't a wine that could be opened that actually conveys the importance that moment would have.

Sweet Victory At Last...suggests a Yquem. But even the sweet golden brown glare off an older d'Yquem would be a pale offering to the baseball Gods.

Vindication After The 54 Year Wait...suggests a 1954 First Growth: Perhaps the luck it would take finding a 1954 First Growth that is drinkable would be appropriate given the luck it will take for the Giants to win the world Series this year.

Ah...it doesn't matter. I'll hope in spite of the fact no wine could do the trick in the event my dream comes true. My thirst for a Giants World Series victory can only be quenched by seeing my team receive that coveted trophy. And even if they fail (again) this year to make my dreams come true, I nonetheless can dream, just as the hopeful wine growers start to do this time of year.

All is good.

Drink No Wine Before IT'S Time

There's a certain ritual that seems have played out somewhat consistently over the course of my adult life that began during my college years and continues to this day: The good friend arriving relatively late in the evening at your home for a stay and the subsequent (and immediate) kitchen table sit-down right then and there upon their arrival to catch up before any sleep is had.

It's not as though the immediate sit-down couldn't wait until the morning when the guest is refreshed. It could. But the combination of instinctual hospitality as well as the joy in seeing them prevents you from waiting. It must happen now. There is something very intimate about catching up with that old friend who knows so much about you and whom you've not laid eyes on for some time, sitting in front of you late at night when everything is quiet and dark.

For the last 20 years that ritual has almost always been accompanied by the cracking open of wine. And almost always the guest likes wine and knows I am in the wine industry. That means they have expectations that the wine they will drink in your presence will be something better than they are used to consuming. When it's 11pm and a good friend who you love is in the house, you don't want to let them down.

Last night a very dear friend of Ginny's (Terry) arrived and set this ritual in motion. While one of the greatest problems with wine is that there is just too damn much of it that it can be confusing for the average sipper, that diversity is also what gives us who have wine on the brain one of our greatest pleasures: trying to pick just the right wine for a specific occasion.

The point, which I'm slowly getting too, is that those of us with a wine-infused brain can turn almost any set of events into an occasion that calls for just the right wine.

-Finally finished setting up that brand new 52 inch flat screen TV? This calls for a BIG California Chard.

-Your child finally took their first steps? Where's the Prosecco?

-Finished that report for the new CFO? Then it's time to crack open that German Riesling you've been chilling

-The SF Giants finally win the World Series? Then it's time to....Oh, there is no wine that could be drunk to truly celebrate such a turn of events.

This of course begs the question, did Orson Wells mean that he shall "Drink no wine before ITS time" or that he shall "Drink no Wine before IT'S time".

The ultimate point here is that this choosing of just the right wine to drink for a specific occasion is one more way wine lovers turn their obsession into a cerebral endeavor, which I argue wine drinking is for anyone who believes there is such a thing as the right wine for the right time.

I choose Old Vine Russian River Valley Zinfandel from the 2002 vintage. Not only was it fat and juice and peppery, it had the added benefit of being a sleep aid with its 16% alcohol content.

Sugar and the Mental Gymnastics of the Wine Drinker

I often wonder about the personal dynamics a person undergoes when their prejudices bump up against a reality that puts the lie to those prejudices. It turns out I find myself in just such a position. What I've found is that it's best to embrace one's convictions and let go of long held prejudices if peace of mind is one's goal.

The prejudice: Simple Palates and Novice Wine Drinkers Like their Wine Sweet. Experienced Palates and Dedicated Wine Lovers Like their Wines Dry.

The Reality: Ive discovered that of late, no matter when I'm in the mood for wine, I find myself reaching for something sweet. And not just a slightly sweet Zinfandel, but a really sweet ice wine or dessert wine; Sauternes, Late Harvest Zin, Semillon infected with Noble Rot. The list is long, but it's sweet.

I've found myself of late sipping Austrian Ice Wine and Sweet German Riesling as I go about my business in the office in the late afternoon. It is incredibly pleasant and has the additional bonus of usually being quite low in alcohol.

Yet on more than one occasion I've got this image of myself in my mind of an old lady sipping her afternoon sweet sherry. I don't particularly like that image, I think because it doesn't square with my long held opinion that I'm amongst the wine loving elite that drinks "serious" wine.

I wonder to what extent expectations of what it means to be a "wine drinker" weigh on those who may not consider themselves among the elite, but really do like their wine sweet. I wonder if these folks simply don't want to be associated with the "Sweet Palates" and Old Lady Sherry Drinkers and as a result turn to drinking beer or bourbon.

I've always viewed sweet wines not only as being for those who aren't "SERIOUS" wine drinkers but also as a "gateway wine" that can draw the uninitiated into the "Serious Wine Drinker" fold. In fact, whenever I open a sweet wine I make sure I give my kids a sip. My hope is they'll grow up with good thoughts about wine running around their head.

My solution to my own prejudicial contradictions is to embrace them. I will drink these damned sweet wines as much as I want and I'll do it with a smile on my face. And if anyone wants to call me less than serious about wine I can just as easily pour them a glass and dare them not to like it. Getting to this place in my mind actually took some mental gymnastics. But I got there with my self respect intact and with my superior attitude intact too.

I wonder however if that superior attitude that many serious wine drinkers have doesn't too often drift out into the world of would-be-wine-consumers and turn them off.

I think it must.

On to the next Ice Wine....

Disneyland for Adults

Remember that feeling you got as a child when you walked down Disneyland's Main Street? It was all there. Everything a child could possible want out of life. Nothing spared. You grabbed your parent's hand and literally pulled them toward Sleeping Beauty's Castle with visions of amazing adventures, rides and fun beyond.

Eating at Cyrus in Healdsburg, California brought me as close I I think I could get to that experience...only it was a Disneyland for adults.

Myself, my wife and two other couples had the 6:30 reservation at Cyrus on New Years Eve. The five course Prix Fixe was $175 per person....and it was a bargain. You expect a place that aspires to greatness to deliver creative and daring dishes. That's exactly what came from their unique treatments of the Torchon of Fois Gras and braised Sea Bass to the marinated Duck and into the Waygu Beef Wellington. I don't want to give the details of the meal only because I know my powers of description are not up the task and you really are best experiencing it on your own without any baggage packed by a wine blogger's feeble attempts at a run down of the food.

And in any case, I want to focus here on what I think sets Cyrus apart from most restaurants and what makes any great restaurant great: service.

Yes, we have six waiters delivering each course and setting the plates down in unison "Laurence Olivier" style. It was quite a production. And the moment I moved from my seat I was greeted upon my return by a fresh set of silverware and napkin. And like with all great restaurants, the wait staff appeared to possess clairvoyance as a requirement of their position. I barely had to catch one's eye and they knew exactly what I needed. But there's more.

We were on a tight schedule and needed to leave the restaurant by 8:30pm. One of my table mates, in jest, told the waitperson, "we need to leave precisely at 8:37pm." After a cocktails course, a Champagne Course, an elaborate amuse bouche, a couple courses, an intermezzo, and three more courses including coffee and candies we got up from the table precisely at 8:36pm. And it was a perfectly paced meal. That's pretty amazing. That's pretty attentive to perfection.

But get this. After the second course a friend and I retired outdoors for a mid course smoke. As we stood outside and shortened our lives, the manager of Cyrus brought us each our intermezzo, outside on the sidewalk and informed us that, "your next course will be served in six minutes." We ate our intermezzo, set our watches, returned to the table with a minute to spare and smiled when the next course was delivered by six waiters one minute later.

The whole experience was topped off with the best brownie I've ever put in my mouth that was delivered in a lovely "Cyrus" box to keep for the next day.

Yes, a great restaurant delivers great, inventive food. But a REALLY great restaurant reminds you why you go out to dinner at all: to be served.

A New York Moment

Can someone please explain to me how it is that I've not been to New York City for almost 20 years! I've set up countless dinners, events, lunches and media meetings for clients in that time, but I've never been. It's not emberassing, but a considered a personal failure on my part.

I'll be rectifying that over this weekend as I take off to NY for business. There will be little time for exploring, with the exception of making sure I get to Murray's. However just getting myself, finally, back to that remarkable bastion of humanities peak almost seems enough for me.

Consider just the attention paid to wine in that metropolis:

Some of the Greatest Wine Retailers in the World

Great Wine Auctions Houses including Christie's, Morrell, Acker, Sotheby's, Zackys

The Amazing Number of Wine Events Happening Every Day

The NY Commitment To Wine's Literary Dimension Via: The Guild, The Spectator, Wine & Spirits, Wine Enthusiast, Food & Wine Magazine

There are those who can argue soundly that San Francisco is the better "Wine City". And they may be right. But when they make that argument they do so knowing they are comparing themselves to New York City, just as every comparison between cities must do when superlatives are being bandied about.

The Art of New Year's Eve Excess

The Art of Drinking on New Years Eve

First let's begin from the premise that New Year's Eve is, or at least has become, an accepted excuse to indulge.

Now, let's change the traditional understanding of the idea of "indulging" from meaning excessive consumption of drink and make it mean excessive consumption of good drink.

This change is meaning is important because it's necessary to justify opening absurd amounts of very good wines and spirits and also assumes a certain degree of soberness. The soberness is important under this understanding of excessive because without out a certain degree of soberness we can neither appreciate nor think about the absurd amounts of good wine and spirit that we will be consuming.

THE COCKTAIL
So, first things first: The Cocktail. Every good evening begins with a fine cocktail, well prepared. The proper cocktail, I think, must be a Manhattan. While Maker's Mark is a great everyday bourbon for Manhattan making and can be used in a pinch on this day of excessive consumption, you should instead reach for the Bookers.

THE OPENING CHAMPAGNE
From the cocktail it's time to move to a fine Champagne. This should be a good one. And it should be served with a very light nibble. This would be the time to open the vintage Champagne. We are still completely sober, our palate is stimulated by the Manhattan and we are ready to indulge. 1989 or 1990 would be perfect. Pay for the good stuff. This is the sparkler you will remember tomorrow.

THE GREAT WHITE
Upon consuming your vintage Champagne you are now ready to move to the great still white wines. This should occur with your first course. Now is the time at least three whites ought be opened and on the table. Make them a well aged White Burgundy, a middle aged Chablis and something disturbingly full and buttery from California. Remember, it's about excess...excess experience. A great Condrieu would be a fine addition. Remember, start with half a glass each, running through them all. Then, choose the one most satisfying and attack the oysters you have ordered.

THE LIGHTER RED
The second course should be a dish that can be paired with a light red such as Pinot Noir or even a rose. I can't seem to move my mind away from the idea of a well spiced salmon tartar to accompany your earthy, funky red burgundy. No matter what you choose remember...it's about excess. Have at least 4 different examples of these light reds on the table.

THE FOIS GRAS COURSE
You must have some. It must be seared so that the outside is just south of crispy while the inside remains between pink and red. We will be drinking a 15 to 20 year old Sauternes. for the squeamish among you, have them bring a small wedge of blue cheese, preferably a Gorgonzola Cremifacato, Stilton or a Blue d'Auvergne.

THE MEAT COURSE
Here's where it gets silly. To truly be excessive you must have a ridiculous selection of fine reds to accompany whatever meat course you choose. The meat really doesn't matter. It's only there to hide the fact that it's really all about the wine. You'll be needing a well aged Bordeaux, an ungodly dense Australian Shiraz, a 1986 California Cabernet, a red blend from Washington State, something older and gamy from Spain's Rioja, and an Italian red, probably something like a '97 Solaia. This might be the time to pull out that big, fat American Pinot you've been carefully keeping in your closet. The red course is also when you pull from your Rhone collection.

HOW ARE YOU DOING?
By now you've sampled upwards of 15 wines and had a cocktail to boot and you are just beginning. Remember, the idea is not to get drunk, but to consume excessively. That means you are not drinking full glasses of any wine. It mans the water is flowing at the table. It means you are seated in the best seat in the restaurant that is also near the restroom and it means you are eating all the time. However, remember, do not eat excessively. If you do, it will make it difficult to continue consuming many numbers of wines.

THE CHEESE COURSE
The cheese course is your opportunity to be silly and pull out any and ever kind of wine you want. This also means that the cheese must be several varieties. You'll need a bloomy rind cows cheese, a semi hard probably of Swiss origin, something stinky and soft from Northern Italy, Chevre will be necessary, a lovely blue should be there on the plate, and of course you'll need a wedge of Constant Bliss from Jasper Hill Farms that has been cut only moments ago.

THE DESSERT COURSE
This is the moment to dig down there to the bottom of your rack and pull out those stickies and sweet things you've not found a time to open previously. If possible try to stay away from the excessively sticky and unctuous wines. You'll be looking to open the Beerenauslese, the old Madeira, the 1963 or 1970 Vintage Port, a Quarts de Chaume from the Loire and an old Tokay from Australia.

RETREAT TO COMFORT
By now you are feeling the effects of your excessiveness and it's time to retreat to a place of comfort. Ideally this should be to the home of a friend, but a quite corner in dark room with excellent jazz will do also. Now we must start in on our spirits and liqueurs. Alternatively this is a good time to return to Champagne and sparkling wine, but not the best. Cognac, Armagnac, Single Malt are all appropriate now. It's time to reflect on your excessiveness. Time to review the ridiculous amounts of wine you've opened that previous to this night have been sitting in your cellar because you could not find just the right time to drink them. It's time to reflect on the year just past and the year to come. This can really only be done well with close friends and a fine after dinner drink close at hand. Cigars and cigarettes are appropriate now also.

The art of New Year's Eve drinking is not a casual one. It should be approached with some preparation. But most of all, it must be excessive without drunkeness. This is a very fine line. I don't recommend it to those who have not previously attempted it in more limited circumstances or who have not learned to do it from more experienced types.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

 

What a loss. What a life. What an inspiration

How appropriate that Oscar Peterson left this world on the eve of Christmas. The 82 year-old piano legend was a gift to the world. Attempting to reflect on what he gave us you are struck by the totality of happiness, awe and inspiration he provided to millions with his unique and groundbreaking sound.

Having seen him, finally, at Yoshi's in Oakland last year, I feel very lucky. For me, attending that performance was one of those "before you die" experiences.

His is one of those lives that, upon considering its content, provokes one to consider just how much one can make of their life. Clearly the answer is a more than is often imaginable. He reminds us that while we ought to work to experience as much as possible in our short time, we ought also to spend this life trying to inspire others. That is to say, the man led a model life.

Of all the Oscar Peterson recordings I am most taken by "My Favorite Instrument". The solo recording from 1968 is arresting. From "Perdido", "A Train" and "Bye Bye Blackbird" to "Little Girl Blue and Someone to Watch Over Me", Peterson is entirely conjoined with his instrument as he moves through a collection of standards that  are taken over by his genius and reinterpreted.

Herbie Hancock said of Peterson, "I consider him the major influence that formed my roots in jazz piano playing. He mastered the balance between technique, hard blues grooving, and tenderness. ... No one will ever be able to take his place."

What a loss. What a life. What an inspiration.

Go With the Accoutrerments

I avoid giving gifts of wine to folks who are serious wine people. This is largely the case because I can't afford to do it really well. And whether mentioned very often, I think this dilemma surely is noticed by others too.

What kind of a wine to do you give a person who is a confirmed wino? To have any meaning it really must be something that is either coveted though not obtained by the person or altogether unexpected and delightful. The former is likely very expensive because if it is coveted, though not obtained, it's likely rare. As for the latter, you can rule out any wine that is in common and ample distribution. It doesn't fall into the category of delightful to this person. And while the recipient my not expect to get a 3 liter bottle of Two Buck Chuck, you still have the "delightful" aspect to deal with.

Wine "buying" is different than "wine sharing". Sharing is in large part the very purpose of keeping wine after you get by the fact that you prefer it to water and soda with food. But "buying" is really a singular pursuit isn't it. Part of the fun is the chase, the discovery and even the satisfaction with finally taking the step of obtaining that which you've coveted or discovered.

It has always seemed to me that to really do a good job of giving wine to a full fledged wine lover one must be willing to spend and spend liberally.

But if the idea is to present your best friends and family with a gift of meaning (and I think this really should be the case) it's much easier to offer the wine lover something coveted though not obtained or altogether unexpected and delightful without going the wine route. (One note: for those who are simply casual wine drinkers, a good bottle of wine can be a fine gift.)

However, this does not mean that a wine related gift isn't a good idea for the wine loving friends and family on your list. In fact, it's a great idea and allows far more creativity on the part of the gift-giver.

Among the wine related gifts I prefer to give are:

Rare or First Edition Wine-Related Books. My favorite online place to look for such edition is Alibris and AbeBooks. Both these sites allow fairly detailed searches that will, I guarantee, turn up volumes of great interest to any wine lover.

Old Wine Paraphanalia. Cork Screws, glasses, funnels, decanters, wine buckets, even framed labels or box ends from early 20th century wines. These are often harder to come by. Online one can find them at Wine Antiuques, Bacchus Antiques, and Butler's Antiques.

You will be surprised. Though possible to spend serious money in either of these categories, it is quite possible to find a really delightful item that is affordable.

Don't bother with wine for the wine lover. Go with the accoutrement.

Turning Three Years-Old

Is three years a long time to have been writing a wine blog? I guess in the context of the wine blogging world it ranks up there. Today marks the 3rd anniversary of Fermentation. This blog entry is number 1,446 since the beginning of the blog. That's 1.3 blog entries per day for the past 1,095 days. I'm not sure what that means either.

The past year, as related to blogging and Fermentation, has been interesting. I've had the pleasure of speaking before a number of groups on the very issue of blogging. I've been asked consulted professionally with a number or business on the issue of blogging. Advertising inquiries at Fermentation have increased significantly. The American Wine Blog Awards were created. My readership has increased to around 23,000 Unique Visitors Monthly. My RSS subscriptions is at 800. I receive inquiries as though I were a member of the wine media at the rate of 3 or 4 per day.

All this because of my unfortunate tendency to be a Know-It-All.

I'm not a Know-It-All, even though I fancy myself one. In fact, the more time I spend blogging, reading the number of amazing wine blogs that have emerged and the longer I stay in the wine industry I discover that I'm actually a  Know-It-Less-And-Less. But what I do know for sure is that in the capacity of a wine blogger I have a perfect venue for exploring those things about which I know less while still feeding my inner Know-It-All.

I find myself in a very enviable position in my professional life after three years of blogging. I'm still enjoying the blogging. It's a source of amazing pleasure. I also find myself professionally in a position of working with a set of clients that can only be described as the best combination I've ever brought together at Wark Communications: Vinfolio, Inertia Beverage Group, Specialty Wine Retailers Association and Mayo Family Winery. The more astute reading this entry will notice something about that group of clients. They represent, together, an obvious point on a specific trajectory that my public relations and wine industry career has taken. I think Bill MacIver, If he keeps track of me, would be proud. Others who read Fermentation regularly will also see this career trajectory informing my blog posts.

Finally, when I reflect on three years and 1,446 posts worth of Fermentation, I always get the feeling I'm in the middle of something very unique that is churning around me in a vigorous and always surprising way. In my Bloggerviews I ask the subjects if blogging is having an effect on the world of wine. It is. I don't pretend that Fermentation is very significant in the way that wine blogging effects the industry. But I do recognize that by blogging about wine I find myself in the midst of something that is developing into an arm of the wine industry that will cause some folks, some time from now, to reflect, "wow, do you remember where there were no wine blogs?"

This is fun.

A Wine Blogger's Lists...

So many people with so much to be thankful for. A Set of Thankful Top 10 lists...

TOP TEN THINGS FOR WHICH WINE BLOGGERS SHOULD BE THANKFUL
10. The 24th Hour in the Day
9. Cheap Wine
8. Established Wine Writers that begin Blogging
7. The Controversy that is the 100 Point Rating System
6. Spell Checkers
5. The Wine Industry's Voracious Appetite For Publicity
4. Cheap Blogging Services
3. The Wine Blogging Community
2. The American Brand of Free Enterprise
1. The Robust American Appetite for Wine Information

TOP TEN THINGS FOR WHICH THE CALIFORNIA WINE INDUSTRY SHOULD BE THANKFUL
10. The Internet
9. The Old World Winemaking Heritage
8. Robert Parker, The Wine Spectator and the Rest of the Wine Media
7. Costco
6. Undocumented Workers
5. The Japanese and East Asian Wine Lovers
4. Napa Valley
3. Having the Regulatory Freedom To Experiment
2. Existing in an Affluent Country
1. A Remarkably Good Climates for Growing Grapes

TOP TEN THINGS FOR WHICH I AM THANKFUL
10. My Blog Readership
9. A Good Education
8. The memory of my Father
7. Having a Comfortable Home
6. Having a Career I Enjoy
5. Residing in Sonoma Valley
4. True Friends
3. Having My Health
2. My Whole Family
1. Being Alive

Now go forth, eat, drink and be thankful!

A Meritge of Vintage Ideas...and Meaning.

Even before I review it, which I will be doing, I want to bring your attention to a new book that will be published on October 29:

Wine and Philosophy: A Meritage of Vintage Ideas
Editor: Fritz Allhoff

I was very excited to learn of the publication of this compilation of papers and essays that seek the nexus between wine, the experience of drinking wine and philosophy. I've come to believe that few pursuits are as ripe as wine drinking for helping us to think about our world, how we perceive it and how we interact with it. This book address exactly that issue.

Finding "meaning" in the appreciation of wine and in the ways we talk about it is probably not high on the list of those things that we are prompted to do upon opening and downing a bottle of Shiraz or Riesling. But I think it should be. I certainly think it is an event that is well suited to spur deeper contemplation of ideas.

We come close at times to doing just that on this blog and we see it on other blogs too. Consider the questions of terroir or wine reviews. What does it mean to insist that some wines have a "connection" with a particular place? Are we talking merely about those chemical elements that influence the character of the wine? Or are we, in the French view, exploring what "place" means not only in a geographic and geologic sense but also from a cultural perspective? And for that matter, how does own connection with a particular place influence our understanding of the meaning of a wine?

Consider the act of reviewing a wine. We know it is impossible for one person to sensually experience what another person experiences when they both drink the same wine. So, whatever common experience there is must be conveyed via written or oral communications. When we both declare the wine to be "full bodied" do we really mean the same thing? Are the words we use to communicate our experience clouded by unique experience or even by our social position?

The discussion of wine can, and I think should, lead us to deeper explorations not just of meaning, but explorations of the meaning of our own experience with life and people.

This is one of those rare books that actually lead us down this path.

Who's a Pro?

I've been thinking about what makes "professional" ever since reading Ryan's Post and the following comments over at Catavino.

Ryan's query was: "Does it make someone more of a professional if their (wine) reviews are only accessible through payment? Does the exchanging of money make a person’s opinion (what any review by anyone really is) worth more?"

I'm not sure if the question is different if it's applied merely to blogging vs. wine reviewing. I don't think it is. Nonetheless, I started to wonder if I've become a professional "something" as a result of my blogging. Let's look at the details:

1. The work on Fermentation is mine.
2. I take money in exchange for the placement of advertising on the blog
3. I often consult for money specifically on the issue of blogging
4. I give talks to professional organizations on the topic of blogging
5. I regularly receive press releases based on my blogging.
6. I get invited to events based on my blogging.
7. I spend about a half hour to an hour a day focused on my Blog in some way.

Is it possible to be a professional anything if you only spend an hour a day working on that thing about which you presume to possess professional knowledge?

Clearly it is possible.

Does it come down to whether or not one makes a "living" based on this thing you profess to have professional knowledge of? I think so. I think this is the hard, cold fact. Unless you can support yourself financially based on your blogging, your are not a "professional" blogger.

I've often wondered what would become of Fermentation if I worked 5-6 or even 8 hours a day on its content and services. I think that would make me a professional wine writer working in a blog format. However, I'm still not sure what it would look like or what it would become. It would be interesting to know.

At this point Fermentation is an outlet for my personal thoughts and opinions, a place to encourage the growth of a publishing format inside the wine industry, a promotional vehicle for Wark Communications and an advocacy vehicle for change I think needs to occur. But, one thing it is not is a venue for a professional wine writer.

The comments and the post over at Catavino are very interesting. Take a look.

Cheese is Looking Pretty Good To Me

You'd think that a hedonistic, history buff, with a penchant for travel and consumption like me would be absolutely satisfied with a career in the wine industry. Don't get me wrong, I am satisfied. But there is always that question, what would you do if you could do it over again? (Of course the corollary question is why CAN'T you do it over again? That's another blog post)

I would do it different. I would become a cheesemonger/cheese importer.

I've known this about myself for quite sometime. Ironically, it's my interest and love of wine that convinced me that given the right opportunity I'd choose cheese over wine as a vocation. What is truly stimulating about wine on both an intellectual and gustatory level is the connection between wine and place—wine and terroir, wine and culture, wine and history.

This connection between the product and the place seems to me doubly concrete in the case of cheese.

Like with wine, the exploration of the world's cheeses brings you face to face with a region's culture and history. I'm reminded of this every time I spend time in the shop of a dedicated cheesemonger. I did this again this weekend in Carmel where my wife and I celebrated our anniversary. The Cheese Shop in Carmel is not the best cheese shop I've ever been in, but it still is so far ahead of what you can find in most grocery stores, even the gourmet independent stores, that it is more than enough to take me to that place where I begin contemplating a different kind of life.

A lot of folks imagine that their interests might make for a good career and it's prudent to actually examine this thought prior to jumping in. But in the case of cheese I think it is perfectly reasonable to believe that working to become an expert cheesemonger or cheese importer is a career with legs.

The artisan food movement remains strong in America. Our culinary choices broaden out every day in markets and restaurants. New wine regions both in America and outside the States continue to creep into our daily vocabulary and purchases. Restaurants continue to aggressively introduce diners to ingredients with specific place names. It appears that the American palate is becoming more accepting of new flavors and textures. And, travel and communications on a global scale are in reach of the vast majority of Americans, thereby exposing them to different cultures, foods and people.

All this suggests to me that the array of regional, artisan cheeses that exist throughout the Old and New Worlds but are only rarely available in their best form here in most parts of America form a perfect career foundation for folks who are hedonists with an interest in culture, travel, history and eating.

Add to all this that more people eat and enjoy cheese than drink and enjoy wine and the idea of a careers as a cheesemonger or cheese importer starts to look pretty good to me.

"All In...Oh, and a vodka straight up please!"

I've never had a problem with drinking folk...that should be obvious. Fact is, I think drinking and even drinking to the point of getting that warm glow is probably a pretty nice experience for most people. It's hard to deny the metabolic effects of alcohol and based on the amount of drinking that goes on people seem to like this effect just as much as I do.

But yesterday I ran into a situation that made me NOT appreciate a that bit of social drinking that I generally think is a good thing. I'm still, this morning, bothered by it.

Last night I decided to play in a Poker Tournament. There were about 90 folks playing in a $50 buy-in, No-Limit Hold'em Tournament. This was hardly my first such tournament. I used to play a lot more poker than I do now. I enjoy it. I enjoy the camaraderie a the table, I enjoy the rush of stack chips after pulling a large pot, I enjoy the feeling of outplaying someone and I enjoy mental aspect of the game...the way it forces one to be disciplined, analytical as well as judiciously  hopeful.

The fact is, I'm not bad at this game at all. I've placed in the money in tournaments on a number of occasions.

Last night I won the tournament.

The problem, however, was this: It came down to me and one other opponents. We were about equal in chips. After playing head to head with this older gentleman for about 15 minutes I was pretty confident I'd beat him. At first I thought, "well good for me, I'm out playing this old guy." Then, after watching him do a few stupid things with his cards and betting I realized that he had been drinking.

In fact, he was on his second straight vodka in the past 45 minutes.

He wasn't a danger to anyone or anything like that. And he was hardly stinking drunk. But it was the only thing I could see that might make him make those stupid moves he did at the table. In other words, I think my victory in the tournament was robbed of the satisfaction it should have brought by virtue of "Vodka, Straight Up, Please!"

The Danger of Focusing on the Past

The anniversary of 9/11.

I slipped onto FOX News this morning and was told that it is important that we "remember the meaning of this day for the rest of our lives" by some very nice looking, but stern, house-motherish anchor.

I grew up in a household where the mother and father both lived through the Depression and where the father fought in WWII and lived through a prison camp experience, a set of circumstances that colored the advice my parents gave to me and the way in which we lived. During the annual July 4th parades in my home town the WWII veterans were out in full force, marching just ahead of the Shriners. Pear Harbor Day by the 70s had become a minor day of remembrance. Noted, but not really invested with solemn meaning. All in all, as I grew up, the idea of "remembrance" was a mixed bag.

And now we sit at the 6th anniversary of 9/11.

It's still fresh. However, it is slipping into that strange place where one's reaction to the topic is often, "where were you when you heard"? This is the same place where the assassination of JFK and the death of Elvis sit.

Here in wine country, a number of vintners answer that question by explaining what they were crushing when the planes hit the Towers. At Mayo Family Winery in Glen Ellen it was Sauvignon Blanc. At Frog's Leap in Napa it was Sauvignon Blanc and Merlot. Do we and do the vintners really want to invest these wines with that kind of meaning? Probably not. But after six years, 9/11 is becoming something that has melded into our every day existence and mingles with our every day activities. Hence, there are the 9/11 SBs.

Most of the 9/11 SBs have or soon will be drunk up and gone save for those that are kept in libraries as every good vintner should do with each of the wines they produce. The fact that at least these wines will soon be emptied from our memory and cellars is a good thing. It's an even better thing that this particular anniversary comes at harvest. Harvest has, at least for me, always been about the prospect of something new, the prospect of something promising, about the future.

There is a danger that comes with living and focusing on the past similar to the danger of not learning from history.

Razor Blades & Drinking

I've always been a "Gillette Man", thinking their razors are far better and more effective than the Schick variety. This last Saturday would have been the perfect opportunity to test out my preference. Had I possessed one of each variety, I would have happily tested them on my wrists as I sat through eight hours of Traffic School.

My ass and head still ache from sitting on a hard chair for the day as I listened to a middle aged man fervently preach the saving graces of using windshield wipers when it rains. However, I did learn something intriguing.

You know that little chart that shows you how many drinks you can have in an hour or two hour or three hours before you are supposed to be legally drunk? Everyone has seen it. It's a grid. In the column of boxes on the far left is your weight range, running across from each range is a series of different colored boxes (1 box for "OK", boxes for "impaired" and a different shade of boxes for "drunk". Inside each box is the number of drinks before hitting that level of impairment.) There is an example of one such chart in this post.

Well guess what I learned. When putting this chart together they define a "glass of wine" being 4 oz. AND being 12% alcohol or less.

I honestly don't remember the last time I bought a bottle of wine that was dry AND 12% alcohol or less that wasn't a German Riesling or a very sweet wine.

By my calculation and based on this chart, I can have 3/5 of a bottle of German Riesling over two hours before I'm officially drunk, at that point should not get behind a wheel of a car and, according to my not-funny "comedy driving school" instructor, have identified myself as a very bad person because I actually left my house in a car and with the intention of drinking—but that's another story that came out of my 8 hours is a rock hard chair, listening to a middle aged, non-drinking man lecture that also lead me to think about the possibilty of testing the effectiveness of my favored brand of razor blades.

The point, of course is that if anyone actually does follow these informative government produced charts that tell us what can be drunk before we are in danger of being a danger is that you better skew them downward if your drink of choice is wine. Because chances are you aren't drinking the kind of wine the government thinks you are.