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You know those weeks that are sailing along, full of promise, laughter, love and that utter amazement at how lucky you are to be awake and alive? Yeah that was last week. This week could not be further away from that.
Started with being behind on my newsletter stuff, I’m not a stress case kind of person, I just don’t get worked up in tizzies too often but when I feel like I am letting someone down like I do every time I am late getting my write ups to Randy? Well it sends me into a stress filled, self loathing kind of spin that leaves me dizzy, and speechless…which is always perfect when you are stressed because you are late getting someone your words, and like a complete loser. Then comes the aftermath of introspection, why am I always late? Why can’t I just spill all the love I have for a wine that intrigued me enough to purchase for the store into a shelf talker that will make everyone want to buy it…maybe that’s the bit of pressure that stands on my neck making it impossible to speak. Whatever, between the stress dizzies and the beating up of myself I end up exhausted and lifeless….and that was only Sunday.
Monday, my cherished day off and date night with the wee boyfriend, this had to perk me up right? Um, yeah had to cancel the date night. We were having our annual Wine of the Year judging at the shop so after being called a “wet blanket” by my four year old boyfriend I headed out to taste and vote. Now this is always a fun tasting, the staff is all fired up to share the wines that make our hearts pound, the wines that stood out in a year’s worth of tasting appointments and classes. Great wines, we get to taste, talk about, vote and argue about great wines, a perfect day for me but even this had me feeling a little gloomy.
“Have fun!” the husband chirped on his way out the door for MY date night. “Oh my wines are going to get clobbered” I responded. There was really only one wine worthy of my Wine of the Year this year and I just knew it was going to be knocked out in the first round of judging. Maybe it was the post newsletter gloom but I was sullen when I walked in the shop for the judging, just knowing that a wine I was so in love with was going to get tossed aside and deemed “too weird” or just not good enough.
Wrong! I was so wrong and my odd little wine swept in the White Wine of the Year battle. Amazing, felt amazing and when I got home I could not shut up about it. I was just so thrilled that the wine spoke to everyone and even more excited that a big bunch of people would be giving the wine a try based on our giving it a Wine of the Year approval. So imagine how my heart sank when I got an email from the importer telling me they had made a mistake. “There are 10 cases coming but it won’t be until January and it will be a new vintage” Fuck….fuck. Most of you probably won’t understand how crushing this was for me, for that consider yourself lucky that you are not as big a geek as I am but….my eyes literally filled with tears as I read those words. It’s not winning, hell all the wines I put up took the win this year, it was this one wine and the hope….the belief I had in it, the way I wanted everyone to have their hearts pound away too. Deflating but….that was just Monday.
Tuesday found me picking at the scab of an argument that never truly healed for me and brought the added benefit of rage, disappointment and hint of condescension from someone I love very deeply.
Wednesday was a whole ball of wax; found out we were in fact not done with the newsletter…a big important part simply forgotten, (insert self loathing here), an email from another loved, a giant slap in the face and questions of loyalty, a documentary that ripped my heart out and sent me to bed puffy with tears and wondering how people can be so cruel but….that was just Wednesday.
I woke this morning still puffy but giving myself the post cry pep talk, “Well least your eyes are wicked green today” the one upside to a big cry. I was ready to take on the day and then the text that done me in
“They are changing the rules at work. No one can request time off and no one can leave the week of Christmas” Jeremy. Jeremy may not be home for Christmas this year. The first year in 21 that I may not get my most wanted thing, a hug from my baby Christmas morning.
I’d like to ask whomever is holding the voodoo doll in my likeness to ease the hell up already. I am breathing a heavy sigh as I get ready to leave for work this morning, placing all the hope I can muster in the basket of selling wine. A great day at the shop I love, selling wine to people that adore it as much as I do….least I still have that. Sheesh….. 
I’m two days late for deadline, hoping that Randy has once again given us a little pillow of time pushing….knowing his devoted but procrastinating and writers block stricken staff as he does, and as I sit here in my jammies, still unwashed, smoking too much, sipping on a glass of “inspiration”….my standard punishment for my tardiness, this “You can’t go anywhere or do anything until you finish” thing, and my mind is wandering. The lust and want I wish to inspire with descriptions of Champagne, Meursault and Northern Rhone Syrah getting lost amidst my own desires, my wants…my lust. All of it mixing with guilt and threatening to overtake me…
So I came here. A new Word document, a blank page, to purge. Rid myself of these consuming distractions that are pulling me in too many directions, tugging at me…making my stomach flutter, my heart pound and are suffocating my focus. No matter how many times I rub my makeup-less face, no matter how severe the tone in my, “Knock it off and focus!” growl, no matter how many times I beg, coo and plead these images, memories, flavors, fantasies and cravings refuse to leave me and let me work.
So I came here. Here to fill this page, fill my loyal readers and ask that you read them, hold them for me, feel them for me…keep them warm and wanted until I can once again let them roam freely throughout my mind and my body…let them once again raise my skin, own my will, move me. Hold them tight, picture them vividly, groan at the very thought, assure them that they are craveable, desirable and wanted so badly….
No one needs to take them all, you can spilt them up, take turns caring for them, trade them when you need but I beg of you….promise them that I shall return for them. Assure them that they are mine, that I need them and that without my overwhelming desire to attain them that I could never be this woman that I am. Whisper my name as you hold them, devour them as needed but do not let them forget where their home is and that I will soon be back to collect them.
I trust you all….
I’m dreaming of
The smell of a fire while snuggled beneath a blanket
Warm water climbing up my back and spilling down over my shoulders
Resting on my tummy while fingertips trace my tattoo
The crunch, the give and tug of a perfectly fried scallion cake
That almost painful stab in the side of my neck with my first sip of Sancerre
My teeth piercing tender dumpling flesh and feeling the insides spill onto my palate
Lips brushing against that soft patch of skin behind my knees
A smear of thick, pungent Epoisses on hot from the oven bread
Frozen shards of Gin melting between my lips as I suck them from my martini glass
Desperate stolen kisses
The weight and aggression of Grand Cru Burgundy in my mouth
The kind of voice that arches my back and makes the skin on my body tight
Words, no matter how few, that take my breath away….
These are the things that are spinning around inside me. The wants that need a place to land until I am once again ready to let them swim around beneath my flesh, hold them for me…love and want them for me. I need them so badly but right now…I need to work.
What the hell?!
This bottle was forced in my hand by some random "sales rep" this afternoon. The second I saw it I thought for sure my bosses were testing me. Like they sent this aggressive woman, this wont-take-no-for-an-answer beast with her bad hair, loud perfume, even louder shirt, shitty attitude and eyeliner that was either a result of her dt's or some sort of seismic reading. I figured they sent her to see how I would react in such a situation, see if I could refrain from making my, "Are you high?!" face complete with snarl and scary Sam eyebrow."I wanted to show you this" the beast says while handing me this bottle wrapped...and I kid you not, in a plastic bag like the ones you shove your leaky meat into at the grocery store. I looked at the bottle, (scroll back up and feel my pain) and looked back at her while scanning the store for Randy and Dale peeking behind case stacks to see of I was gonna go Di Nero on her ass.
"It's already doing well at Vons" she told me with her one bar too many crinkled mug. This, this was my out. I handed the bottle back to her, the plastic kind of sticking to my hand and said, "Oh okay, we don't stock things that people can find at Vons" grinning, I was grinning....not because I was feeling bitchy as much as I was relieved that I would not have to actually taste it. Stare. Hard stare with a smirk, this is what this plastic bag wrapping, glitter bottle peddling, Baby Jane looking woman gave me. Oh...okay, it's on.
"It's doing well. Why wouldn't a place like this want to stock a wine that is doing well?" she challenged. "Why the hell would anyone drive here, to get.....that, when they can buy it while buying their suppositories?" I replied again looking for Randy and Dale sure that I was getting a giant "F" on this test. "Look, we are a destination store, people have to make the effort to come here and if they can get this while shopping then there is no need for us to have it" I said refusing to take the sticky bag bottle again.
"Here" she said shoving the bottle against my arm, "Just let me leave the bottle and I'll wait for your call" I let the tacky...in oh so many ways, bottle fall in my palm and watched as the sea hag marched triumphantly for the front door, my shock and awe hanging like a bubble of drool from my "how the hell did this happen?" lips.
Got the wine home and after showing it to my husband who instantly said, "What the hell is THAT?" I shoved the bling bottle in the fridge to give it a chill. An hour later I pulled the hideous bottle from its chilling chamber and popped the cork...
Budweiser, smells exactly like Budweiser. That sweet, insipid stank of the world's worst beer....awesome. Took one sip of the nearly clear liquid and again....King of Beers. Fantastic. The one beer on the planet that had me thinking all beer was utter shit was now wearing a fancy gold bottle and calling itself sparkling wine....still shit.
Best part? This hooker juice wholesales for...$21.99 a bottle. Well unless you want the bottle without the "jewels" and yes, that's what Baby Jane called them, you can get the less bedazzled bottle wholesale for $sixteen something....fuck.
Cannot wait for her follow up call......
Dear Food & Wine Magazine,
You suck.
Sincerely,
Samantha Dugan
Truth is I have been bitching and moaning about this particular publication for a couple of years now, I think it was about the time I got one of their yearend issues and over half of it was advertisements or even worse, the “special advertisements” which is basically an add that pretends not to be. Fucking annoying as hell. I will say that I do find the recipes in Food & Wine some of the easiest to execute and for that reason alone I’ve not figured out how to get my goddamn American Express to quit renewing my subscription but I think after this latest craptastic issue I am going to have to call it quits.
The wine articles in this glossy rag that proudly boasts wine as half its name are simply dreadful, always have been. They used to just be boring and redundant…I mean whole articles dedicated to steakhouse wine lists…lemme guess, big reds? What the hot new sommeliers are favoring in place of Gruner these days and endless articles about what wines to bring to all those swanky dinner parties or (a personal favorite) perfume and wine, as in “this Barolo reminds me of Channel” or whatever. Trite and never all that informative, that was the way I saw most of the wine articles in Food & Wine, (all one or two in each issue), before but the utter pile of crap that landed in my mailbox this month had me not only saying aloud, “Oh shut up” but slapping the slippery pages of stupid down on the smashed beige carpet of my living room floor.
Anyone that reads much about wine these days is hearing an awful lot about Syrah. Now if you are a light reader or skimmer you might believe that Syrah is the hottest thing going right now….the flavor of the month if you will but for those of us in the industry…or uber wine freaks we all know that the current cheerleading about Syrah is a industry wide push to put some energy behind a group of wines that just aint selling. There is some serious mouth to mouth going on and I will spare you rehashing of why these wines aren’t moving. Steve Heimoff, Eric Asimov, Charlie Olken and many others have already had the conversation and they are far better, not to mention way more important voices than mine…that and an opinion about why, changes absolutely nothing about the situation. Dead. The sales for Syrah are dead or dying and marketing gurus, winery reps and the press are doing all they can to resuscitate. I’m not against that per se but when a leading food and wine publication tells the unsuspecting public that they should drink Syrah with their Thanksgiving meal?! Well that’s going too far in my book and in the end it is just robbing from Peter to pay Paul. You really think offering a shitty pairing will inspire people to drink and crave Syrah? You truly expect people to wash down turkey, gravy, sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce with Smoking Loon Syrah? Might these folks that came to you for pairing advice take a sip of that wine…with that food and come to the conclusion that either they don’t get it or worse, they simply don’t like wine? Yeah, that should fix things…jackholes.
Okay so I’m willing to admit that not everyone gets as hung up about pairings as I do, I get that and might even be willing to say that’s fine, (begrudgingly) might be able to overlook this dreadful combination they are pushing but…holy mother of all stupidity, the writing in this hunk of advertisements is bloody awful. Jesus, I avoid most wine blogs because I can’t choke through the clunky, sophomoric, snooze inducing, makes-me-want-as-much-as-a-eunuch-does sludge and now this publication…that I pay for goddamn it, is making me feel like an asshole just for having it come to my home in my name. As a wine professional I’m horrified that this is what we as a group are tossing about. Really insulting and honestly shit like this here does more to hurt our business than grow it.
Okay I am gonna try and ignore the little drawing of the “writer” that penned this hunk of garbage, the one with a megaphone drawn by his face that says, (no lie) “Rah rah Syrah”…sigh. I will instead stick to the profoundly stupid and slightly ironic might I add, premise of this steaming piece on Why You Should Drink Syrah on Thanksgiving…
1- People Who Buy Syrah Are Independent & Smart
I shit you not, that was number one on the list! What the hell? What are you even talking about? Can we flip that fucking megaphone over and make you wear it as a dunce cap? You are advising people on what to drink and the number one reason you give them to drink the wrong wine with their meal is because they are “independent and smart”?! You sir are an ass.
2- Cool Climate Syrahs Are Exceptionally Food Friendly
Have no problem with this…well other than this, “High end sommeliers tend to put down American Syrah in particular, dismissing it as bulky, ponderous, alcoholic and sweet. But cooler climate regions in California and Washington make streamlined, evocative, spicy, aromatic, food friendly Syrahs.” Um, what are the WalMart sommeliers saying? Just wondering if the low end guys know a little something about…the northern freaking Rhone, you know the place this “rah rah” grape comes from. Are the 7-11 sommeliers offering a reason as to why one might pair Syrah with Thanksgiving…because so far you haven’t…just sayin’
3- Syrah Is One Of The Safest Bets Around
This is where this idiot goes on to say that finding a Pinot Noir under $20.00 is like finding a “diamond in your gravel driveway” and finding a delicious under $20.00 Syrah is like finding diamonds in a diamond mine. Okay not only are you “deficient” you are a liar AND um, dude….are Pinot and Syrah the only two varieties we have? What the hell happened to; Zinfandel, Gamay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Barbera, Dolcetto…oh and God forbid we talk about white wine….so for beginners and chicks that. Blow me.
That’s it. I wish I could tell you there was something more. Some insight as to why this article was written and someone felt it was fit for print but there you have it. You should drink Syrah with your laboriously cared for meal because…it makes you smart or independent or Pinot is expensive. I swear I just lost brain cells reading this hunk of crap and as I wine professional, a wine lover and someone that aches to have everyone have that little light go off…have their switch flipped, I just have to say….I’m sorry. I’m sorry this was what Food & Wine thought of you and I for one am yanking my pennies from their pocket for their flippant disregard for teaching people anything about wine.
I am calling in the morning and ending my ten year subscription to Food & Wine magazine and the only regret I have is that I didn’t do it sooner. I would like to thank whoever let this particular article fly…you kicked me in my waffling ass. I’m tired of rolling my eyes and cringing at what is basically a finger to the average consumer and as a result…our industry. Bullshit is bullshit and no matter how trained the palate this was a hunk of marketing garbage that wont salvage Syrah, in fact you may have just hammered another nail in the coffin. Write an article on how sexy and alluring these wines can be and I would freaking write you a love letter but peddling lies and bad pairings is just insulting and disingenuous. I’m out….
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