"I don't care what you have to do. I just want to taste my Thanksgiving turkey."

It was a simple plea from a guy on day seven of a sinus infection that showed no signs of letting up. Before parenthood, I never got sick. Maybe once every three years. Even then, I'd knock it out in a couple days. Now (especially with a critter in day care), I constantly feel as if I need to be wrapped up in bandages and sent off to live with the lepers. A bit of an extreme metaphor to describe my situation, but the metaphor well is about as dry as...

...

...uh, something dry. See?

Anyway, I'd hit up a doc-in-the-box on the way home from the office on Thanksgiving Eve, still dealing exclusively with a diet of textures, salty, sweet, bitter, and sour. My nose was still clogged, keeping my sense of smell- the true vessel of flavor recognition to the brain- in check. But, with the most gluttonous day of the year on the horizon, simply gumming the textures of soft foods like mashed potatoes and stuffing seemed...unacceptable. Unthinkable. Unholy. And what of the wines? Thanksgiving ushers in the season of emptying out one's wine stash. The good stuff had to come out, and it had to be consumed as ravenously as the smorgasbord of turkey and bland carbs.

"Hmm. You really should have come in here earlier than today. Do you have a problem with shots?" The doc was offering a glimmer of hope, as the cost of getting poked. Two fleeting pin pricks in exchange for rich, meaty mouthfuls of drumstick; buttery, fluffy potatoes; a nose full of cranberries in a fresh glass of Brouilly; the honeyed nectar that is slightly-chilled Sauternes, served with a slice of warm apple pie...

Needless to say, my pants were around my ankles. A shot of cortisone in the left cheek, and a shot of antibiotics in the right (if you're currently disturbed by a mental image of my bare rump, watch this to desensitize yourself). 24 hours later, I was on the mend, and digging into a 3-day bender of Crestor-ic proportions.

Thank you, science. You've made it fun to write about food and wine again.

Meet the Nouveau. Same as the Old-veau: Dammit. What a crappy title. I thought I'd try to show that I'm "cool and hip, yet sophisticatedly middle-aged" by fielding a really bad play on some Who lyrics; Who lyrics that have probably already been ruined by CSI: Des Moines or something. But I really struggled with this. "Nouveau-ver Beethoven" made me want to cut out the part of the brain that causes thinking. "Something Old, Something Nouveau" was about as clever as Jeff Dunham's "comedy". So, "Meet the New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" got bastardized horribly because I got lazy. And it sickens me...

...oh yeah, and the 2010 Beaujolais Nouveau came out yesterday. Stock up on it in case you run out of grape drink and vodka on Thanksgiving.*

China- The new hipsters: What's happened to Pabst Blue Ribbon? It used to be nigh-undrinkable swill that's served the purpose of getting one drunk when he couldn't afford Old Milwaukee. It was reliably $1/can at bars that sympathized to the desperate situations of college kids in need of affordable liquid courage and inevitable abdominal pain. Then came the hipsters. "Let's drink it to be cool and ironic," they said, in their reprinted "vintage" Joy Division t-shirts and skinny leg jeans. Supply and demand, hipsters. Now PBR is $5 a can at bars. No matter, as I wasn't going to order that crap anyway.

I guess it could be worse. The PBR brand has been totally reinvented in China as a high-end lager. One bottle: about $44 USD. The irony is delicious, but the beer isn't, especially at that price. But at least we're getting back at the Peoples' Republic for Tsingtao*. I just hope the U.S. doesn't bankrupt China with its exorbitant beer prices. My daughter will probably want her future overlords to have financial stability.

*I actually like these things. Beaujolais Nouveau is a fun Thanksgiving tradition, but it's a bigger rip off at $13/bottle than Chinese PBR. Tsingtao is great with spicy Szechuan cuisine, but I bet they're not shipping us the good stuff.

Okay, perhaps I was going for sassy marketing to soften the blow of consuming red wine. However, I thought this one might fit the bill. Here's my half-witted reasoning:

1) Grenache is a grape that is medium-bodied, generally lower in tannin, and high in strawberry flavors.

2) Australian wines- since they are so reliant on export- need to be marketable. For this reason, many are more fruit-forward and low in tannin.

The verdict: Ashley didn't like it as much as white wine, wouldn't pay the $12 for it, but also wouldn't be upset if it was served to her. When told she could pour it out to try the second wine, she said, "c'mon. It's not THAT bad." Regardless, I think I failed with this one. Frankly, either I didn't like it at all or the bottle was bad. It had that rubber ball smell I've been getting lately in many wines, suggesting there many have been an issue with sulfuric compounds in the wine.

2007 Joseph Drouhin Beaujolais-Villages:

My first instinct was to go with Beaujolais, but I didn't think it'd be very original, so I got myself in that "bitch" of a situation above. Why Beaujolais? Well, this French wine is made from the Gamay grape, often employing a fermentation technique known as "carbonic maceration" (I won't get into the science...link if you'd like), which essentially preserves fresh fruit flavors and keeps tannins low. These wines also do well with a bit of a chill on them, have nice acidity, and make perfect picnic wines (sorta sounds like a white wine, huh?).

The verdict: my subject found this one to be "much better", but then she "had to leave because her kid was getting tired and it was time for dinner" (a classic "I'm going to get a McRib but I'm too embarrassed to admit it" excuse). Luckily, one of our other companions said, "if you closed your eyes and tasted this, you could definitely mistake it for a white wine." Boom. I'm chalking that up as full success.

I feel bad the "Bitch" didn't work out, because I think lush Aussie Grenache would've been a more interesting victory. However, if you are a white wine-loyalist reading this post, I highly encourage you give some Beaujolais-Villages (or Beaujolais) a try. Put it in the fridge for 30 minutes, and enjoy it with whatever you'd usually have with your standard white, whether that be grilled chicken, flaky fish, or- of course- your weekly rib-flavored crap sandwich. Just please don't be hesitant to try something new. You may never know what you're missing.

And to that, I'll bring back the toast (with a new Russian one I learned): Cheers, Sláinte, L'Chaim, Salud, Prost, Skål, Konbe, Kampai, Nostrovia, and Laissez les bon temps rouler!