Useful Tasting Notes

I got my crunders in a twist the other day, not that unusual for me I know, my ass can be like a lawn mower at times but I’ve been making a concerted effort to practice my inner chill as of late, but something I read the other day just…argh! I don’t read many blogs, not because I don’t like them or anything, just so many hours in a day and truthfully many of them are so redundant, all the same stories just blended up and spun off in someone else’s voice. Either that or they are posts about crap that I already know or don’t care about, not really that interested in spending my free time reading that they grow Cabernet Franc in the Loire Valley…got it thanks. If that sounds kinda, “Snaahh, (lame attempt at a nasal snooty sound) I’m so learned” sorry, don’t mean to come off that way but I’ve been doing this wine thing for like, a bit and not that we can’t all use a refresher but….

So I have my little set of blogs that I pop in on every day, either to read new posts or follow the comments and one of those just so happens to be a blog written by a professional, (meaning print media) wine writer. So I was reading his latest post and I was nodding along in agreement, appreciating his candor and writing before clicking on the comments, that’s when my lawn mower started. There in the comments section was some jack hole, (just so happens it was a wine..blogger) telling this print media guy what he should have included in his post. Like, “It may have been helpful had you included xyz” wtf?!



Okay first of all, it bugged me that this guy was telling someone else what they should have written, or how it should have been written…um, he’s a writer dude, don’t pop off to someone that has FAR more knowledge and background than you, that shit just crimps my nozzle, (you know, if I had a nozzle) like nothing else. It’s like when someone comes in the shop and tells us what se, “should be” carrying…really, is that what you stock in YOUR wine store? Anyway, I’m getting off topic, how unlike me…

The issue at hand was what should have been included in the article/post…tasting notes. I read the article and it was on wines that are not at all typical, wines that express themselves through texture and structure, I dig that kind of crap but this cheese wanted, “tasting notes” as if that is going to help people understand wines like the ones that were being featured. The whole thing just annoyed me and made me really think about “tasting notes”.



I write them, I have to write them for the newsletter and for shelf talkers but…you ever have to write up 25 Roses in one sitting? Kind of brutal and the thing is…they are or can be pretty similar, one thing that you can really focus on, “texture”. When I read tasting notes I always look more to things that describe the mouth feel, level of acidity and structure, those things tell me more about the wine than reading something like, “berries” um…blueberries, raspberries? I understand that people want an idea what the wines are going to taste like but when I see those long drawn out flavor descriptors I just roll my eyes…taste is so subjective, people’s palate’s so diverse. Sometimes I smell sweaty skin in a wine, (Chablis most often) now I personally LOVE that smell but can I really put it in a tasting note? Well, I do, more often saying something like, “freshly” sweating skin to make it sound less…animal, but I loves me some “animal” smells…if I leave that out am I doing a disservice to the consumer? Are most people going to pick that out? I think it is more important and useful to describe what the wine is going to feel like…sure some basic flavor profiles are needed but I think it is perfectly appropriate to focus on how the wine is going to feel in the mouth….



Just my opinion, means nadda, just ranting and wondering if anyone else feels the same?

Homey Don't Play That

Now I haven’t posted much if any political stuff since the election, just didn’t see the point, my team won and my faith in humanity was restored…well, aside from Prop 8 passing here in California, in California…dude, what the hell? Still pissed off and baffled by that one. I am still following politics, still gets my blood flowing, and gets my bark revved up but I have been keeping it out of the blog, mostly because I don’t wish to offend anyone. Well the one good thing about getting almost no comments on my posts, leads me to believe no one is reading so I get to go back to thumping my chest about whatever it is that’s buggin’ me.



So I have a little message for the GOP, Obama is fucking cool as hell, deal with it, sheesh. I was watching the news this morning and saw, “The New Faces of the GOP” website…I nearly shot coffee out my nose I was laughing so hard. Um, seems like that party got some, “coloring”. Took me right back to the election, you know when they would find the 3 faces of color in the crowd at the Republican conventions and show them over and over again…yeah, dudes, they don’t all look alike. I was cracking up when I went to their website, it was like they were saying, “We have blacks too” as if that was what made everyone vote for Obama…still don’t get it huh guys?

Obama is just one of those cats, smart, funny, suave as hell…but um, it’s not his “blackness” that makes him that way and if you believe that, well…you have more work to do. You had Colin Powell, he was kind of black too, but he wasn’t cool right? Smart man, decent man but not terribly cool if you know what I’m saying. This little parade of color the GOP is trying to hoist on people is just a joke, an insulting joke but a joke none the less.



If you’re going to do it, then do it, don’t just pepper the pages of your site with black people, why not try and find some cool people? Find someone exceptional, inspiring, people that will reach out to people across both sides of the isle, because this…well, this little stunt just shows how NOT colorblind you are. Tards.

Bliss

Walking into my apartment, no wait…having to unlock the door of the apartment, walking in after a successful day at work, a day that thrilled my palate with wines like Sancerre, Muscadet and Champagne. A day that let me do what I do best, talk about and explain the wines that I love the most. A day when I went for the, “trampy” look…low cut shirt, just enough to leave those silly boys, and girls for that matter, standing on their tippy toes and looking dopey when I caught them, sporting wavy pigtails, dark eye makeup, a argyle sweater and matching Vans.



A day that I felt fatty, succulent, sea kissed oysters slip down my throat, roll around in my mouth, (well, except for the one that I shot into my mouth and felt a giant hunk of shell, the yacking of that little sucker back onto the plate…well kinda killed the whole, “sex kitten” thing) marveled at how their silky textures were brought to life with a sip of Champagne, the way the bubbles danced around and made the little mollusk almost vibrate and burst with the flavor of the ocean. The way just a kiss of cocktail sauce brought out the restrained fruit in the Jasnieres, (little Loire Chenin Blanc) made the wine shed its somewhat savory exterior and expose is generous fruit and minerality. The way a touch of lemon shifted the Sancerre from grapefruit to limestone, a great day…a day full of palate exploration.

Entering the apartment and having the smell of my home, that somewhat dank, musty smell of living in a coastal community, a dusty coastal community…and years of smoking and living in a place with too many books and magazines, a smell that makes me think this is what libraries smelled like in the 50’s. Pulling off my sneakers and socks after a long day on my feet, feeling the carpet fibers slip between my toes, the rush of, “almost fall” air brush across my red toe nailed feet. No one here, no one in this space for the first time in weeks, silence. No text messages asking to meet for a drink, dinner, or “you want to some over and…” just me alone in a space that I love and rarely get to feel this intently.



Walking to the bedroom and peeling the “tramp” outfit off, slipping on my favorite, way-too-big-for-me jeans and pulling a giant white T-shirt over my still ponytailed head…still silent. Removing my glasses, watch, wedding rings…feeling unbound in almost every way, no texts, no other sounds other than my little bits of seriously relaxed air escaping my lungs.

Big jeans, red toes, no jewelry, white T-shirt, no emails, no texts, no voices…me bent over my wine fridge seeing if there was anything left, there was…3 bottles in fact. 2005 Domaine de Montille Nuits-Saint-Georges 1er Cru Clos des Grandes Vignes, 2001 Camus-Bruchon Savigny-Narbantons 1er Cru and a bottle of 2006 Dagueneau Buisson Renard…..what to do? The sound of my too big jeans dragging behind me, making that scraping sound on the fake ass tile floor in my, way too small and in need of a good washing kitchen, the way it feels to be so relaxed and have it so quiet that I could hear that sound. Feeling the muscles in my forearms tighten as I drove the corkscrew into the bottle, feeling the muscles in my biceps when I pulled that cork out. Hearing wine splash into my glass…hearing my own voice slip through my lips, an audible sigh…a sound so powerful that it felt like strong hands rubbing my back and shoulders.



The first sip of wine, in my silent house, after a long but fulfilling day at work, giant shirt gathered around me, making me feel kind of tiny, my red toed feet tucked beneath my seriously relaxed ass….bliss.

Finally checking your email to find a note, a note from someone whom you value, respect and cherish above almost any other…reading that note and reading words you have never seen so openly expressed, words of adoration, admiration and appreciation. Words of how valuable you are, words of how your mere existence in their life has changed them, for the better. Words that let you know you have touched them, are with them all the time…words you have always wanted but never really thought you might hear…amazing, a simply amazing day.

The Power Of A Balanced Relationship

So you know that phrase, “It’s not what you know but who you know” um, might be a bit of truth to that. Let me first state…once again, just for the record that Beaune Imports is my favorite importer and through the years owner Michael Sullivan and I have become dear friends. Don’t want people pointing the finger of, “she’s on the take” or whatever at me, I in no way receive any payment for my pimping, shit I rarely even get sampled on new releases anymore, from Beaune Imports. Just crazy about those wines and after years of dinners, emails, his unyielding support of my palate and my writing, and tastings I’ve grown to adore Michael as well…no easy feat, kind of a clam that one….charismatic as hell but, let’s just say it took some work on my part. Thankfully I always knew, or thought that we had a kinship, a similar sense of humor and VERY similar palates, I bullied my way into that very guarded heart. Glad to be there for me, but what I dig even more is that others might get to know those wines, the man and family behind them…makes it all worth it.



To have a successful relationship of any kind there needs to be balance, be it love, friendship or business, and balance is one thing that The Wine Country and Beaune Imports do very well. For years our store has stocked wines from Beaune Imports that few had heard of, wines from Menetou-Salon, Saint Bris, Bourgueil and Cotes du Luberon. We tasted the wines, talked about them and urged our customers to try them….it worked and Michael’s wines are some of the best selling, not just in the French department, but in the store. His continued dedication to wines of purity, wines of place and wines that offer rather remarkable value, has built a trust, we trust and believe in his company, what we get in return, big fat allocations! Dagueneau, De Montille, Clos Rougeard, Trevallon, Chidaine, we are rewarded for our support with a good chunk of the special, or rare wines. Sure he could sell them to anyone but he thanks us by making sure we get plenty of the wines that are super easy to sell, balance.

So another super cool thing that Michael gives us, something that you rarely see down here in the South…in store events. Michael makes it a point to come down once a year, show his mug, make face time with our customers and teach them a little more about his wines, and himself…makes a world of difference. Our customers feel like they know him, I hear it all the time, “When is Michael coming this year?” or “Is Michael doing a Friday night class or Saturday tasting this year?” hell, there have been times he has done both. We appreciate these visits more than he knows, they help create another kind of balance…that between an importer, specific estates and the end consumer. Sure, I adore those visits, I get so see an old friend, get to break his bawls face to face but I simply love watching people get closer to company and a person that I truly admire, wicked cool that. So for those of you that have been asking, yes Michael Sullivan will be coming this year, he will be doing a special Wednesday event…and the only open to the public event he will be doing down here, and oh, did I mention he will bringing some friends……



Wednesday November 4th 4:30-7:00 P.M.
Meet Importer Michael Sullivan, (A man partially responsible for my palate…and my attitude) as well as:



Etienne de Montille of Domaine de Montille (Volnay, Burgundy)



Claude Drouhin of Chandon de Briailles, (Savigny-les-Beaune, Burgundy)



Samuel Guibert of Mas de Daumas Gassac, (Herault, Languedoc)



Eloi Durrbach of Domaine de Trevallon, (Bouch de Rhone, Provence)



Stephane Dupuch of Chateau Sainte-Marie, (Entre-Deux-Mers, Bordeaux)



Pascal Agrapart of Agrapart & Fils, (Avize, Champagne)



Bruno Schmitt of Roland Schmitt, (Bergbieten, Alsace)



Marie-Claire & Pierre Fort of Domaine Mouscaillo, (Limoux, Languedoc)

The price to meet all these amazing people and taste their wines…$20.00, incredible. Mark the calendar kids, this is an event not to miss.

The Best Of What's Around

Now this is not only the title of one of my favorite Dave Matthews songs, (see I have a theory here, if I keep mentioning his name he will be like Google alerted and realize that we were meant to be….if only for one night, Yes I am aware of my addiction and if I could inject him directly into my veins I would) but it is also a kind of lifestyle choice for me. I’ve been so lucky, when I think of where I came from, some of the wretched things I have seen, done and had imposed on me…well, I just feel like any and everything I have, get to do, people and places I get to see...well, they deserve my full attention and appreciation, screw that, “Oh why can’t I have that” bullshit taking up too much of my time. Oh sure I succumb to pangs of pity and poor me, who doesn’t but I think of my Dave Matthews, (would that be 2 Google alerts?) and I hear this, “Whatever tears at us, whatever pulls us down, if nothing can be done we’ll make the best of what’s around”…brilliant.

Been thinking about and listening to that song a lot as of late and it always kind of grabs me and gives me a little, “pull your head out of your ass Sam” shake. Okay, so I can’t see my friend every week, but she is healthy and this momentary distance will likely make us even closer and better at communicating with one another, so it’s a trade off….one not so good and two very goods. I’ll take it.



I flew home Wednesday night, and after like double checking my ticket, at 20 minutes before boarding….I saw that I was on flight A something, not gate A something, so I got a little work out there in the Dallas Fort Worth airport and made my flight. One not so good but I got two goods. That and I was unmercifully flirted with by my seatmate, something that I would normally cringe about but being all sad for like 7 days straight…felt nice to be, "appreciated" or wanted, even for, "that" see yet another good. Take that too.



Got home to my hubby, my house, my Merzie and my neighbors and I was already feeling better, finding comfort in what was still here, right where I left it. I crashed Wednesday night and woke up yesterday feeling like I could sleep for a week but I needed to haul my ass back to work…just walking in the shop was such a comfort to me. I unlocked the door, hit the alarm code and took deep, chest-filling breaths of The Wine Country smell. Best of what’s around.

I walked around my department, tried to get a feel for how my little wines had sold in my absence and that was when I remembered what our tasting is this Saturday….Oyster Fest, well shit howdy did that put a smile on this girls face! We have a chef from 555 East coming in with his team of shuckers, lemons, cocktail and mignonette sauces and piles and piles of oysters, now that alone would be enough to slap a happy face on this ugly mug o’mine but it gets even better…I get to pour some of my absolute favorite wines to go along with those briny little mollusks…now that, that is making the best of what’s around.



Now this has always been a staff favorite as far as tastings goes, we all love oysters and adore the crisp, racy acidity of the wines that tend to go best with them, now we are a pretty chipper crew here at The Wine Country but on Oyster Fest, down-right giddy. The event came too late for Amy to partake but in her honor I will be pouring, NV Agrapart 7 Cru Blanc de Blancs Champagne and Bailly Sancerre, for the rest of the lineup…..



Sauvion de Cleray Muscadet Sevre et Maine Sur Lie




Regis Minet Pouilly Fume



Gilbert Chon Muscadet Sevre et Maine Sur Lie



Vieux Pruniers Sancerre



Bailly Sancerre Rose





Graville-Lacoste Graves

Azo Chablis



Pascal Janvier Jasnieres

And just for fun,



Domaine de Monteils Sauternes, (this was Randy’s idea so I am interested to see if the pairing works, I’m skeptical but at the very least people will have some dessert)

Definitely one of the best tastings of the year, $20.00 for the wines and the oysters are 6 for $10.00…dude, “Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down and if nothing can be done we’ll make the best of what’s around”

Navigating New Waters

So I think I might be a bit of a creature of habit, guess much like everyone else I tend to repeat my daily patterns without much thought, same route to work, same parking space, same lather, rinse, repeat deal in the shower. Bound to happen when you are at home, I mean your stuff doesn’t like, pick up and move or anything, the shampoo is right where you left it, your spot on the couch is perfect suited and molded to fit your ass…it’s just life’s little routines, it’s what we do, but every so often we are forced to change things up, take a trip to Dallas for instance.

So my first night here was spent pretty much drunk and it was so emotionally charged that falling into bed and actually falling asleep was a non issue. Sure “some” people may say I passed out but I much prefer, “falling into bed and falling asleep” kinda like how I prefer the term brown out over black out…makes me feel less bad about my behavior. Wish I could say Sunday was better but starting with Bloody Mary’s and sinking into that, “I cannot believe we are all here” and, “Gonna try and not be a blubbering mess the whole trip” feeling found me…. “falling into bed” once again, this time however I took notice of how silent my room was, how dark…how not home it was. I thought about my little buddy in the next room feeling the same way and rather than have yet another drink, I got up and grabbed my ipod. Selected my most soothing Dave Matthews CD and let him, and his familiar voice sing me to sleep.



I had taken a shower late Sunday evening and really hadn’t taken notice of the treacherous landscape that was my bathroom, gotta love a buzzy, fearless girl right? Well Monday morning, after washing the drunkard day off my flesh, letting the water revive me, prepare me for whatever the day had in store, I turned off the water to find….that tub was kind of deep. While I loved that I could be submerged up to my ears….with like two other people and have room to like swim and junk, it made me nervous about the, “climb” out of that canyon. Just to give you an idea, I’m like five foot six, (probably more like five, five and a half but…) and standing there, buck naked of course, (that was for you Mr. HoseMaster Sir) the tub came up to about two inches above my knee, bit of a hurdle no? Mix that with being wet and having the conditioner and soap you just rinsed off your hair and skin acting as a lubricant beneath your feet…well I climbed out of there like a kid at fat camp scaling a wall…so sad and not at all flattering might I just add.



I survived and had a bitch of a time applying my makeup, again….things were just not where they were supposed to be, the counter too high, the lighting off…not familiar, but managed to slap myself together before Amy and I headed out to check out a wine store and wine bar she had read about. So liquid eyeliner in Texas humidity, not so much friends…looked like Baby Jane at one point, just another notch on my, “fuck this is different” belt. Got to the wine bar to find that it was not open on Monday, not to worry….we can head to the wine shop, the wine shop that doesn’t open until 2:00….dammit, unfamiliar. We got a bite to eat and the very unfamiliar came slamming down on me amigo pretty hard…being here, in this place she has no interest in being just landed on her like a ton of bricks, “I’m really tired, you mind if we just go back so I can take a nap?” she confided, how could I…I am here for her. I scaled that fat kid wall, had sore ears from a night of headphones, and humidity induced facial smears to be here for her… “Of course we can go back. I’m not here to see the town, I’m here for you” I told her. She snuggled down into a nap and I was able to feel a bit of home, that’s right I had the remote and I got to watch Law & Order, lots of it.




Amy emerged from her overwhelmed induced nap just in time to see Sexy Bitch arrive home from work, we hit the town but she was just not really in the mood to explore, can’t say as I blame her. We came back home, cried a lot, talked a lot and I let my tear filled eyes fall upon something very comforting, a case of Agrapart 7 Cru Champagne and a case of Bailly Sancerre that Amy had purchased to bring with her to Texas…familiar.

I climbed into bed last night, headphones on, Dave making me feel at home, singing words that I had heard a million times, familiar. Now have you ever had to sleep in a pull out bed with a needy, please touch me, I can’t get comfortable, ninety pound, one-eyed dog named Bear? Cannot say as I recommend it, nice to see his sweet one-eyed face but damn dude…

I have to leave tomorrow night, leave my best friend here to navigate very unfamiliar waters, leave her to start her life here, a life that for the time being will not have me in it…one of the most painful things I have ever been through, either of us has ever been through. She is alone here…I am going home to my shampoo being right where I left it, my cushions on the couch in the shape of my ass. The one thing we have is wine, we can both drink Bailly Sancerre and Agrapart Champagne and think of each other, the years, the hours we have spent together with those wines, they taste like us, like our history, our future. I’ll keep the wine cold for you Aims, cheers to you, cheers to this new adventure and cheers to us. I love you, will love you wherever you are and I will always have a cold bottle of Bailly or Agrapart waiting.

Safely In Dallas

So yesterday, (man it feels like 4 days ago) we had a Zinfandel, (personal favorite of mine) tasting at the store, I made myself run through the wines, forced myself to update my palate on wines that I have been avoiding for years, the result….might be a few years before I do that again. There was a couple I found pleasant, wines that reminded me of Spanish country wines but for the most part, I just don’t get it. As I made my way through the lineup the wines just got bigger, thicker and less appealing. Once I hit the Dover Canyon Cujo Zinfandel my palate was getting pissed. Oh and one word to Rombauer, why not just call it Port?! Ick, that wine almost made me toss in the towel, or my lunch whichever came first, but I pressed on and made my way through. Bennett said something that was very reassuring, “Sam, I don’t think you would like Zinfandel even if they grew it in France” I think he’s right.

Once the tasting was over I dashed home, tossed too many clothes in a suitcase, had a quick cocktail and gathered my sad little buddy Amy and her doped up kitty and we headed to the airport. The mood was thick in the car, palpable sadness just hanging in the air….Amy’s last day, “living” in California for a few years. We tried our best to find something to laugh about not the least of which was her stoned kitty, poor old kitty…he is not a fan of being restrained so we had to drug his cranky ass to get him on the flight. So there he was loopy as hell, zipped into his cushy little travel case, this puffy, collapsible travel case that we planned on shoving under the seat, yeah that’s when Amy said it, “Do you smell that?” dammit kitty. He was stoned, it happens but damn, what a stank.



We checked our bags, Amy tried to soak some of the pee outta kitty’s travel case and we had just enough time to have a cocktail and some nachos before our flight. My poor friend was just heartbroken…worst feeling in the world when someone you love is hurting and there is jack shit you can do to make it better. I tried to make her laugh, we made fun of kitty in his pee soaked case, made fun of myself and her, anything to make her smile. It worked a little and we got on the plane just in time for kitty’s meds to wear off, awesome. I’m sitting there watching this stinky, puffy case wiggle and tip from side to side while Amy tried her best to shove another pill down kitty’s throat…ever tried to give a freaked out cat a pill? Let’s just say, comedy is sure to ensue.

Two Bloody Marys and two hours later and we were in Dallas where Sexy Bitch was waiting with hugs for us both and a trash bag to place under kitty’s stanky travel case, the case that was made even stankier by pill number two….thank gawd there were only like 12 people on the plane. It was past midnight, raining, slightly solemn, but slightly sweet in the car on the ride home, no one happy about being here but happy to be together. We walked into the temporary housing where my pals will be staying until they find a place and were greeted by the puppies…my heart melted when I saw them, couldn’t even tell I was in Texas anymore, that “Home is where the heart is” thing, very true. Dropped off the bags and had a seat at the dining room table where we shared a bottle of NV Agrapart 7 Crus, a wine I have had thousands of times…literally, but somehow last night….best bottle ever. Been one hell of a week for me and my tiny muse, lots of love, bunches of tears and promises of trips to come, ending it here in Dallas over a bottle of Agrapart…perfect.



Amy went to bed after we finished the bottle and Sexy Bitch and I stayed up until 4:00 am, talking and killing a bottle of Seagram’s Sweet Tea Vodka, yes…yes we did. I woke up at 11:00 am, (unheard of I assure you) to find that kitty was de-toxing in my room, covered in bite marks and scratches, fucking cat. Made my way to the coffee pot, had a few cups and here I sit, 1:30 on a Sunday afternoon, in my jammies, coffee and Bloody Mary by my side, Sexy Bitch watching football, puppies by my feet and my little buddy sleeping off a week of tears and the very real feeling of being truly adored and the sadness that comes with hopping a plane and leaving that all behind.



I’m here for the next couple days, gonna be a Texas sized good time I am sure and tomorrow we are hitting up the wine shops and wine bars here in Dallas, should be really interesting to see what wines they have here but for now I’m off to take a soak in the massive ass tub, soak the airplane, the kitty saliva, the Sweet Tea Vodka, the Romabuer Zin and the long ass day off me.

Signing off from deep in the heart of Texas y’all.