With all due to respect to San Antonio Spurs great George "Iceman" Gervin, I'm talking about the bitter cold in Atlanta, not the quiet storm that is a perfectly-executed finger roll.

Ah, the finger roll...like a slam dunk for the Yacht Rock set. So smooth.

But I digress (as usual). It's freezing in the Deep South. As I headed out to my car this morning, I noticed my neighbor hauling in the last of the season's whale blubber into his igloo. He gave me a quick glance: one of sympathy, but also one of survival-fueled gratitude, for it would be me- not him- without enough warming whale oil to outlast winter's savage fury...

...at this point, I realized I had been dreaming, leaving me really pissed that I was still in bed, and I would be forced to leave the warmth of my downy cocoon to go commute in such crappy weather.

However, there exists some upside to such frigid conditions: I tend to crave hearty stews and rich red wines. Screw summer, and its socially-acceptable desires for lettuce and Vinho Verde. No, I want the stuff that made love handles before love handles were so fashionable (at least in America).

Fortunately, I had some lamb chops on hand. I also had potatoes and Guinness, but I'm Irish, so you already knew that. Add carrots, onions, some beef stock, a little bit of salt, pepper, and thyme, and before you lie the trappings for a proper Irish Stew (or some variation of it). For grins, and because lamb and Syrah go so well together, I popped a juicy, spicy 2006 Kokomo Dry Creek Valley Syrah.

What resulted was a rib-stickin', soul-warming meal that was worth of Greatness. Just like George Gervin. And Yacht Rock. And favorable weather.