Friday, December 21, 2012
Well, now what am I going to do?
Perhaps it is hubris for me to assume- post 12:10 GMT- that we are all in the clear. Given the fact that the Mayans had no abacuses, TI-85's, crazy 80's Swatch watches, or even rudimentary search engines like Ask Jeeves!, I suppose they could have been off by a couple hours. As soon as I walk into my favorite local Quik-e-Mart to discover they have, indeed, run out of Tahitian Treat, then I will know that shit is going down and I exhaled far too soon.
But, in the far-more likely scenario that the Mayans- like any myriad doomsday soothsayers- were a bunch of wackadoos, I'm left on this brisk Friday morning with one burning question:
What the hell am I supposed to do now? I had an action-packed day planned of jumping over lava flows, escaping crumbling metropolises with my family in a conveniently hot-wired sports car (daredevil, hair-pin turns aplenty), and smashing zombie heads with whatever blunt-force objects were available.
Not to mention this extensive list of things I always wanted to do before I die:
- Punch the "Napa Know-How" guy in the face.
- Get a giant checkerboard, with one set of checker pieces being McDonald's "Filet-O-Fish" sandwiches, and the other set being Krystal cheeseburgers. Upon jumping over the opponent's checker piece, it is quickly consumed. When you get the other end and are to be "kinged" (since the captured pieces are already consumed), you instead get a high-five from King Curtis.
- Buy several intangible services (like massages and psychiatric evaluation), then ask to return the merchandise for refund, because I "have the receipt, and it hasn't been 90 days since purchase".
- Grow an impressive parsnip garden.
- Jump high in the air, fist pumped to the sky in celebration (as if at the end of a feel-good 80's movie), and have everything freeze-frame.
- Watch an entire episode of the WB's Reba.
- Throw a pizza like a frisbee to be fetched by a life-like robotic dog.
- Live to see if Svedka really is voted the #1 Vodka of 2033.
- Go to jail, and then when the biggest, baddest guy in the prison asks me to be his bitch, I slap him in the face with a fresh, dolphin-safe tuna, then yell "beep beep" and speed out of there like the Roadrunner.
- Finally finish that last, tearjerking chapter of Jesse Ventura's I Ain't Got Time to Bleed.
- Watch all the 2-D movies in existence while wearing 3-D glasses.
- Eat an entire, live pig in the manner a python would.
Well, I guess I can still do all this stuff. But, in the proud tradition of procrastination and regret, I suppose I will wait until the next doomsday prophecy.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Structure (one of many words those in the wine world take for granted)
There aren't many questions I cannot answer confidently when talking wine with a crowd of eager enthusiasts. Not that I'm the alpha-male of wine knowledge. Far from it. In fact, like any obsessive endeavor one jumps into, I've learned only how much I know I don't know, and the rabbit-holes of viticulture and oenology go on and on and on. Like the game of golf, or the world of Pokemon, wine expertise surely takes a lifetime to master.
That said, I think I can hold my own. So, when I really can't answer a question well, a need to investigate the subject-matter is ignited. One such instance occurred when I was presented with this humdinger a couple weeks ago at a tasting event:
"So, when you say this wine has good 'structure', what exactly do you mean?"
I found myself pausing, then coming up with an incongruent rambling, involving mentions of tannin, acidity, and blathering about the wine having "angles" rather than amorphous-ness. Whatever the hell it was, the question was poorly answered, and I probably left a wine lover- yearning for sense in this quagmire- more confused than before.
I guess I just took the concept of Structure in wine for granted. In the lexicon of the wine peddler/blogger/advocate/enthusiast, structure is just something we seem to know. Wines have it, or they don't. While generally regarded as a positive quality, digging into the "why" lends explanation. It wasn't until I came across an article from Wine Spectator's Matt Kramer (who is pretty much the only guy I care to read in that fish-wrapper) that things started to delineate for me.
The easy (and- according the Kramer- false) explanation of structure insinuates that a wine with lots of tannin has "good" structure. However, tannin is only one piece of the puzzle.
Let's think of wines as buildings. A straw hut, a teepee, a sand castle... none of these will hold up over time. However, an edifice built on a good foundation, with good materials and craftsmanship, can stand the test of time. Or huffing, puffing wolves, should you be a little piggy.
So, when considering that angle, a "structured" wine is a wine that tastes as if it has the ability to age. This could mean a wine has ample tannin, but the insinuation that tannin is necessary falls flat when we consider that many white wines are built to age (as tannins come from the skins, seeds, and stems of the vine, and- often to a lesser extent- the wood vessel in which many wines are aged). However, many age-worthy whites (fine German Rieslings comes to mind) spend little-to-no time on the skins, and never see the inside of a barrel. How, then, can they be structured; a concept determined necessary to cellar for long periods of time?
Rather, a combination of grape tannin, wood tannin, acidity (in the case of the aforementioned Riesling), residual sugar, alcohol, and phenolic ripeness comes together to provide the foundation for a wine. Sure, tannins act as preservatives, but so does ample acidity, sugar, and alcohol. When all these elements are in harmony, a wine is said to have good "balance".
To this end, "balanced" wines are "structured" wines, right? Well... not necessarily. With good reason, you probably want to punch me right now.
I've tasted excellently balanced wines that should not be aged. They drink at their peak in youth. Sticking to my guns, I cannot say that those wines are necessarily "structured", but they are "balanced". Good New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, many Beaujolais, and plenty of California wines fall into this category (to my tastes, anyway).
After distilling the information, here is the best way I can explain structure:
- Structure in wine- like a properly constructed building- is the foundation of elements within that will allow the wine to age elegantly over time.
- Some element of preservative- whether tannin, acidity, alcohol (in the case of fortified wines), sugar, or a combination of all- needs be present in good quantity for a wine to age.
- Structured wines should be balanced (or taste as if they will come into balance with age), but balanced wines need not necessarily to be structured.
With practice (meaning, tasting a lot of wine), one will be able to better understand if a young wine has the elements necessary to age well. This practical application should to a better understanding of structure. Especially since your palate is different from mine, or anyone else's.
Heaven knows that exercise will be more helpful than this sub-par attempt at explanation.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
The Taco that Launched A Thousand Insults
I predict that, not since the bitter feud of the mid-90's between California's Death Row Records and New York's Bad Boy Records, there will be such a vicious and visceral divide among the two coasts for a long time.
Forget Giants/49ers... amateur hour.
Real Housewives of Orange County sparring with Real Housewives of New Jersey? Please.
This one is between the 'burbs of Atlanta and the backwoods outside of Portland, Oregon. And it was all started over a taco.
Let me say, before I bury my claws, that I find Beau Carufel (head honcho at Beau's Barrel Room) to be a genuinely nice fellow. He's a diligent and well-respected wine blogger, a true wine lover, and, up until recently, I would dare say I considered him a friendly acquaintance amidst the sea of wine writers and bloggers.
Now, I'm not one to get offended by people regurgitating vapid political beliefs on Facebook. I don't mind when Betsy's 13th adorable child is born, and Betsy has to post 500 pics of the actual birth on Facebook, which get pushed to the forefront of my timeline, because 6000 other wives with 13 children have to comment with, "OMG! OHHHHH. SO CUTE!!!!! :) :)".
Profanity, crude jokes, pictures of bacon, and even MEMEs (pushing it, MEMEs) are tolerable. But, earlier this week, there was a particular update from the charlatan in question that set me off:
Oh, shit. Ring the bell. The "taco" bell, if you will.
Typical left-coast, weak-stomached whining, Beau. For a guy originally from Long Island (or New Jersey, or somewhere up there), I can't believe how soft you've become.
First off, Taco Bell is awesome. I ate two 99¢ Chicken Burritos last night, and then measured my biceps this morning, and I'm pretty sure they grew like 4". Granted, I've never measured them before, but it really happened. Furthermore, I'd been sipping on Txakolina Roja, Sancerre, Bugey, and Grower Champagne prior to my meal... obscure, European wines built to go with food. Know what I wanted to eat after sipping on all these exciting, subtle, elegant European wines? Taco Bell. Food and wine DO go together, you know. 700 million Europeans and centuries of proud winemaking tradition can't be wrong. But you, smugly, seem to think the contrary.
And, the money I saved on these delicious, affordable burritos, left me extra to spurge on a Beef Mexi-melt. Culinary symphony, the mexi-melt. And not just on the East Coast (ain't that right, Samantha Dugan?). Yeah, I know the dreadlocked trust-funder hocking you $9 burritos at the Forest Grove Tuesday Farmers' Market says they're made from heavily-petted, hand-massaged, free-range organic heirloom-breed chickens. But you and I both know he spent all his money trying to score weed from the local marionberry farmer, and bought his chicken at the same supermarket, from the same vendor who supplies Taco Bell.
But I digress. Let's step back and dissect your hollow witch-hunt against Eat This, Not That's second favorite fast food mecca, where two distinct errors in judgement stick out like a mild Border Sauce packet among a fistful of Fire Sauce:
1) Ordering plain, hard shell tacos is a rookie mistake. At least get the Doritos® Locos™ taco. Or a taco supreme, brimming with dairy-fresh sour cream and off-the-vine tomatoes. But, you went with plain tacos. Hey, a lot of people order vanilla ice cream at Baskin-Robbins. And they're boring as hell.
2) You ordered a "couple" of tacos. I assume that to be two items. Unless you're digging into the glorious monstrosity that is Chef Lorena Garcia's Cantina Bell™ burrito, then two items is the order of a waif runway model. And you, sir, are not that waif.
Or, is it as simple as you hating Johnny Cash? That's downright un-American.
In summation, I guess some folks just lack the DNA to Live Más. But don't shove it in my face. The great thing about America is choice. Keep your anti-awesome and nourishing taco agenda to yourself, sir.
I will continue making runs to the Border.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Dry?
When is a wine really dry? What is dry?
There are dry climates, meaning that humidity is relatively low.
There are dry senses of humor. Steven Wright has one. Jeff Dunham does not. Incidentally, Jeff Dunham doesn't have humor, either.
In wine, however (or beer, or spirits), "dry" refers to the absence of residual sugar in a drink. To simplify, take the classic kid-making-Kool-Aid example: to make a batch of delicious Kool-Aid, one combines the tiny packet of purple with 2 heaping cups of sugar and 2 quarts of water. However, as I kid, I didn't realize that anything beyond the packet of purple and water was needed. I ended up with purple-colored acid water. Sure, I tried to sell it as "Kool-Aid Dry", but my 5-year-old friends had really unsophisticated palates...
...hillbillies.
So far, so good? A wine without the presence of residual sugar (meaning actual fruit sugar left over in the wine that was not converted to carbon dioxide and alcohol by yeast during fermentation; or, sugar added to a dry wine after fermentation, as in the case of süssreserve) is "dry". Otherwise, a wine with sugar present might be called "off-dry" or "sweet" or "Arbor Mist".*
Yet, in my very important day-to-day business dealings, I have many folks tell me that dry wines taste sweet, and many others are extraordinarily dry. In the case of the former, a wine with a great deal of ripe fruit flavor can be perceived by our palates as being sweet. However, said fruit-forward wine may contain little or no residual sugar, therefore- technically- it's dry. 'Tis a very difficult concept to explain without making someone feel like a dumb-ass or coming off like a jerk-ass. But a very fair observation for any fledgling wine lover to make.
An extraordinarily common misconception is when a person thinks a wine is "dry", when, in fact, it is "drying". Remember: in wine terms, "dry" is the absence of sugar. But when drinking a wine makes one's mouth lockjaw like a rusty nail to the foot, that is a product of tannin. That fuzzy feeling in your mouth after drinking a young Cabernet Sauvignon? Tannin.
Tannins are basically astringent compounds that exist in grape seeds, skins, and stems, and in wood (like oak barrels). They add structure to wines, pleasant bitterness, and lend to color. However, tannins bind to proteins and precipitate. As human saliva contains proteins, these tannic phenolic compounds basically bind to our saliva, giving the sensation of drying out our mouths. So, if you are someone who is insecure about your "wine speak" (and 99% of it is B.S. anyway, so don't be uptight), the formula is simple:
Refer to a wine in which you sense no presence of sugar as "dry"
Refer to a wine which dries your mouth out as "tannic"
Of course, anyone who gives you a hard time about using the proper terminology when discussing wine should get a Champagne cork to the nuts. But, I understand it's import for people to feel comfortable with their wine, and this is a nice, valuable tidbit to know.
Another tidbit: don't feed your cat Arbor Mist.
*I don't mean for this comment to suggest that sweet wines are of poor quality. Some of the finest (and most expensive) wines in the world are quite sweet.
Monday, October 15, 2012
40 Days of Writing
Perhaps in an effort to reinvigorate my writing efforts, I've accepted a challenge from Kate Graham (of Dirty and Rowdy Family Winery) to put pen to paper every day for 40 days. It's a great idea; I do believe that writing is like exercising (neither of which I'm very good at), and repetition and consistent effort strengthens the brain and the writing style. Let's call it training.
Whether well-thought out, or just dribble on the sheet, putting my thoughts to paper is a positive exercise, some I'm looking forward to the challenge. But it's not without conflict: I'll be in situations where I'm not near a computer for days at a time (like this past weekend), so my "writing" could appear negligent on the blawg every day. At the very least, I intend to scrawl things on cocktail napkins or golf score card or something. Such was the case this past weekend. And my writing ended up being things written on golf balls in permanent marker. I wrote "Gangnam Style" on one. Does that count?
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| I didn't write on this actual one. But I wouldn't surprise myself if I wrote "poop" on my golf ball (source: http://imposium.wordpress.com/category/picture-this/) |
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