Wines Of The Year

 Okay, before I get started here I would like to say that I’m not really a fan of this whole premise. Wine of the Year, Top 100, Top 10 lists, they have never made sense to me as I tend to see wines in context and find merit in their individualism, ability to pair with whichever dish and frankly, wine is much less of a thing to me than it is a moment, setting, memory….so I would much rather see a Top 10 Wine Moments kind of deal on blogs and in magazines than some beauty pageant listing of random wines. That being said I know I’m not in the majority on that and as someone that has worked at The Wine Country for 15 years, (wow, still cannot believe that) I know how customers look forward to seeing what wines we come up with. And outside of Randy asking us at the tasting table during judging, very few people ask us why we picked the wines we did. Lots of folks get all aflutter with excitement over these kinds of things and far be it from me to block anyone from getting their flutter on.

So for our Wine of the Year selections there are some very real constraints as to what we can chose, I mean we are a retail shop and unlike the goddamn Wine Spectator we aren’t about to select wines that no one can get their hands on! That chunk of stupid does us no good in the sales department and as someone that has, many times, had to shake my head and say, “No that’s long gone” to some poor person that comes in with the WS list thinking they are going to find the Spectator’s #1 pick for their wine loving friend/boss/wife/husband for the holidays, well I can tell you from firsthand experience that it just pisses people off. So first and foremost the wine needs to be available to sell, which depending on price, means anywhere from seven or eight cases for the wines in the over $60.00 price point and anywhere up to twenty cases of wines closer to the $30.00. So already many wines we might have picked, say my beloved 2010 Clos Marie Rose, cannot be a contender….even though that was clearly one of the most compelling wines I had all year. None to sell, out of the running.  The next part up for consideration is the broad appeal. How many people are going to “get” and love this wine, the objective being that we can sell more wine if we keep that in mind but truthfully, I rarely let that influence my decision. I have plenty of faith in our customer’s willingness to try new things and I just can’t get excited about, “Because it’s easy” as my reason for selecting something that I am saying is my Wine of the Year….just a pain in the ass like that. Lastly price, especially in a troubled economy, while not a deciding factor, is something we try and keep in mind. We do want people to be able to afford the wines we’re all geeked out about, that and let’s be honest, crowning some $300.00 bottle of wine as Wine of the Year is kind of dickish and snobby and that, that has never been what The Wine Country is about. So last month the four buyers for the store tossed their selected wines in the tasting ring….

We gathered after closing on a Tuesday night. I had the day shift, (was in the middle of my hell weeks so of course I was the one pulling the thirteen hour shift…goddamn it) so I had contacted the people that were off asking them which white wines they would like me to get chilling for them. All but one of us having our wines selected well before the tasting, one….well he has a more organic approach to this yearly event. He walks around the store for two days, including the day of the tasting, scanning the racks, hovering over wines he feels might be winners, popping corks to revisit them then rushing to the back room to call the supplier to see if there is a healthy supply of them. Cracks me up. He struggles with the Wine of the Year thing as much as I do and likely for the same reasons, guess it makes sense seeing as he is my boss and the one that inspired and cradled my passion for wine from the beginning. I do love that man so.

Registers counted, doors locked, entire staff, buyers and non, (well aside from Dale who is a wine lover, not a wine taster and doesn’t care for these kind of slurp and spit events) present and accounted for, two stacks of paper in front of all of us, one full sized sheets for taking notes, the other little piles of cut up scratch paper for the secret balloting, and we launched into our Wine of the Year judging. Now, there are five categories total: Champagne of the Year, White Wine of the Year, Red Wine of the Year and Sweet Wine of the Year, from those we re-taste and come up with Wine of the Year. So lots of tasting, explanations and at times, arguing as each one of us fights and makes a case for each of our wines before everyone is tasked with selecting their top two wines in each flight. There have been years when we have had to re-vote, numerous times in each category just to come up with a winner but this year, having a much smaller staff, two of which are brand spanking new to wine, well it went pretty damn smoothly….except for one minor hiccup.

“I think this is corked” Bennett, our new world wine buyer was the first to bury his nose in the glass of 2007 Ridge Santa Cruz Mountains Estate Red that Randy had put up for Red Wine of the Year. We had been working our way through the reds and I still had some 2006 Produttori del Barbaresco in my glass, lost in the aromas of Nebbiolo and wondering if the wine might have the muscle to trump my selected Burgundy. Bennett gave me a, “What do you think?” look and I sadly dumped my Barbaresco and poured myself a glass of the Ridge. “Yup, corked” I confirmed. “Everyone get a new glass” Randy announced as he leapt from the tasting table and began gathering clean glasses for all of us. “Tim, can you go grab us another bottle of Ridge?” and our newest employee went scampering for a fresh bottle of Ridge. Foil and cork removed, new glasses poured and after one sniff the whole damn table went mute. Gone were the mutterings, scribbling, bickering voices…silence. “Holy shit” all I could think to say as these rich, deep, elegant aromas pulled me deeper and deeper into the glass. The hush at the table broke and this excited energy splashed from person to person as we all began sipping the wine. It became clear, in a matter of seconds that Randy’s under $40 red blend was absolutely going to win Red Wine of the Year, after my third sip I was sure it was going to take top seed as Wine of the Year as well. “I just can’t believe how beautiful this is” Bennett effused “It’s almost like drinking Montebello” the words hanging from his lips like a caption in a cartoon as my eyes fell on the bottle we were tasting….um.

“That would be because we are drinking Montebello” I announced.

 Did I mention that Tim, the one we sent for a replacement bottle of Ridge Santa Cruz Mountains Estate Red is our newest employee? Did I also mention this is first ever entree into the world of wine? Poor kid ran off to do as his boss told him to but we failed to mention to him that all the Ridge wines have the same label. The wine that sent a hush across the whole table was not the Santa Cruz Mountains Estate Red, it was in fact Ridge winery’s top of the line blend and a far cry from $36.99. No, the Montebello sells for a whopping $110.00. “Guess it goes to show, sometimes wines are worth their price tag” I whispered to Randy. 

We got another bottle of the Santa Cruz Mountains to taste, which of course tasted like poo after tasting the Montebello and we now found ourselves in a bit of a quandary….should we even vote for the Montebello? It wasn’t even a candidate, just a fluke accident but now, now it was a “situation”. Bennett and Randy both thought we should chalk it up as a funny story and go back to the originally selected wines and they had very valid points, not the least of which is that we don’t want to look like assholes by proclaiming what many already know is a spectacular wine, our Wine of the Year, or even our Red Wine of the Year…that and it’s pricey and we feared looking like elitist douchenozzles. “There is no way we can leave that wine out. It was clearly the wine of the night.” He re I was arguing not only for the most expensive wine but for an expensive wine from California. The wine was, without question, the wine of the night and snobby be damned, it deserved its shot and its win. Congratulations Tim, even though you are not a wine buyer your “selection” is The Wine Country’s Wine of the Year!  

Is the 2007 Ridge Montebello worth $110.00? Absolutely and I feel lucky to have tasted it. To know great wine is to taste something like this and you owe it to yourself as a wine lover to try it.

My Wine of the Year Nominees 

N.V. Gonet-Medeville Brut Tradition $41.99

Opting this year to step away from my usual meaty, full, rich and exuberantly fruit focused style of Champagne I went for more of a wine lovers Champagne. Each time I opened a bottle of Gonet-Medeville Brut Tradition I was floored by the complexity, the toasted almonds, seashells and grilled citrus. The wine drinks almost Sherry like and seeing as I have a mad crush on Sherry at the moment it just tingles my bits. Not a wine for the Champagne as a style set. This is a serious, nearly savory bottle of bubbles and I find it truly remarkable.

2008 Domaine Didier Dagueneau Blanc Fume de Pouilly $64.99

Seems like nearly every year one of us selects a wine from this estate and it’s no wonder why, they are simply stunning and hands-down the most compelling Sauvignon Blancs on the planet. I have a personal connection to this winery but I assure you, even without that I would have chosen this wine. Benjamin, (Didier’s son that has been making the wines since Didier’s passing) has not missed a step even though he is filling some very large shoes. It’s the texture, the weight and silkiness that kills me about this wine. Fierce minerals, loaded with tangy citrus rind and a tingling blast of acidity on the finish. I would drink this over most every white Burgundy we carry.

2008 Domaine Maume Gevrey-Chambertin $45.99

“Fuck” was all I could say after smelling this wine at a recent red Burgundy seminar I gave and the lustful, erotic aromas have been haunting me ever since. I had actually planned on putting up one of the Domaine de Montille red Burgundies we tasted when Etienne was here a few months ago but after one night with this wine….signed, sealed, delivered “I’m yours”. Anyone that has ever wondered what the hell I’m talking about with regards to a wine that smells sensual needs to bury their nose in a glass of this wine. Dark cherries, roasted meat, mushrooms, truffles, stone fruit…like nectarine, and spice. Brilliant. Sexy. Captivating. Period. 

For the rest of the staff selections please visit http://www.thewinecountry.com/

Slow Build

“I just wanted to let you know he’s not doing too well” A text from my far sweeter than me sister. She was letting me know that our brother, the senior sibling, the imperial, the entitled one that pissed away every advantage he was ever given, favoring instead to live the lavish life his father, (not ours) oozed, promised, schemed and inflicted on any poor soul that was looking for a fast buck and easy ticket to the fast track. Given, at least while it was convenient, anything and everything that should have made his life better. The brother that never let us forget he was older, never earned one ounce of credit other than the fact he was born first, never let me forget he was born “better”.

I pulled the leftover pork butt from the freezer. Let it warm a bit on the counter before slicing it into quarter inch thick slices, letting it come to room temp right next to the slow cooker that was bubbling away and rendering another bit of pork spineless. The scented water, rich with onions, garlic, bay leaves, fresh oregano, salt and pepper, slipping into the tissue of the meat, massaging it, the warm bath pounding against the flesh…emitting aromas that made me ache to dip my own weary skin into it. “What-cha making?” coming from the living room. “Just building a sauce” my response.

“This is my house. I don’t even know what you are doing here!” my painfully handsome brother hissing at me through clinched teeth. My eyes filled with tears, mostly because I didn’t know what we were doing there either. I know I would have given anything I had, which was not much, not to be. My brother and I had an on and off again relationship, not one we chose, we were far too young to be in charge of those kind of monumental decisions. He lived with his father, who to this day holds the crown as the most evil fuck of a human I have ever had the displeasure to run into. He was a sick and massively tortured man, one that first ran to the church to rid himself of the demons he was born with, then ran to the arms of a woman…one that was also tortured but in the way women of her generation and social class were. Lost, two lost souls with no clue what the hell they were doing, my brother the spawn of that ill-fated marriage and the victim of the master manipulator that would at some point convince a fearful divorcée that their child would be better off, be given a better chance under his care. 

“Is that sausage browning?” my husband’s hopeful voice coming from our Sunday morning sanctuary. The sound of football behind my back as I stood in my church, in my kitchen using my hands to chop, simmer, scrape and urge food to do as I wish…. pouring myself into each layer of crispy browned bit, each tomato kissed tidbit. “I’m just making dinner love, we are still hours from eating any of this” I said before slinking out to the charger for my ipod,  slipping the soft buds into my ears and steading myself with my trusty corkscrew. Opening one bottle for the sauce, one for me to sip on as I thought of the withering brother that once struck fear into me. 

“Oh God baby, how long have you been here?!” my mother unlocking the little hook on the guest room closet. “Not too long” I reassured her when in fact I had been there so long that my bladder was shooting lightning bolts along my spine. Hours, I had been locked in that little closet, the little slats of wood allowing just enough light that I could see the shadows of those that walked past, free in a way I’m not sure I ever knew, for hours. Even then I knew the kind of hatred my brother had for me went far beyond the annoying sibling, the kind of viciousness that would laugh as my terrified voice begged him to stop as he shoved my delusional, “Sam you want to come swimming with me and my friends?” ass in the closet. That he was feeling pain that while different wasn’t all that foreign from my own. He never once got that…still doesn’t. 

I walked out of my kitchen, the slow cooker doing its thing, my sauce of crushed tomatoes, garlic, parsley, crispy browned bits of pork and wine bubbling away on the stove. Slowly pressed my thumb on the clasp of my screen, my feet bare and alarmed by the cool concrete but free to wander. Cradled my glass of Maume Gevrey-Chambertain in my palm, letting the warmth of my skin coax even more exotic and alluring aromas from deep puddle of wine that sloshed and climbed up the side of my glass as I made my way out to the courtyard that looks out upon the stream that trickles through our apartment complex. Deep black cherries, roasted meat, truffles and soy sauce creating a bubble around me as I rolled the cuffs of my jeans. My lips drawing in little parcels of pleasure, momentary whispers of “more to come” as I gently plunged my ankles, shins, knees into the cool crisp water, sucked in my breath as the water gathered and rushed across my very exposed flesh. “He’s not doing well” fighting the Maume for my attention…

My brother is not doing well. His body a roadmap of family dynamics and nearly thirty years of addiction. Part of me feels like I should be more compassionate, like my own father’s addiction, (not his father…but a teacher in some ways I’m sure) would make me better at this. Better at understanding or better equip at dealing with this, but I’m not. Our on again, off again relationship has been nothing if not filled with blame, rage, distrust and avoidance. I don’t know him, my brother. I don’t know anything about him really. I know he is on the opposite of everything I believe in politically, his brief but very proud…chest thumping military background, no matter how brief and troubled, giving him yet one more sense of entitlement that no matter what he stole, broke, screamed about….locked in a closet wouldn’t make his life any better. His outrage at my not bowing down to worship his sacrifice at losing the crew of friends…the ones that he would have been with if I had not sent letter upon letter to bring him home to help me deal with our very sick mother. My fumbling letters to his officers spared him but now, it’s my lot and shame to bare that he didn’t go down with that helicopter. Just one more thing to hate me for. 

“Is it ready? The smell is killing me!” Carl simply dying from the smell of pork, tomatoes and the bread I had begun searing in the pan. Wanted the bread to have a bit of a crust before I slathered it with shredded ribbons of pork and dousing it with my even porkier sauce. My feet still puckered and wet from my pond dipping but feeling freed from the horizontal slats of the guest room closet. My built sauce driving at least one man wild and filling my chest with my own worth. It’s not just the food I fill him with, it’s the pieces of me that I sprinkle over each little bit of food that I feed my family with.

“He’s gotten worse. I think I’m heading up to take him to the ER” another text from the sweet sister that bares far more weight than she should. I’ve found myself in tears for two nights as I struggle with my own demons and dealing with Our Brother. My mother left us far too soon. As broken as she was she would have held my head as I cried…hopefully let me throw my own punches before wrapping her arms around a very lost soul, in this department and kissed my hairline as I tried to feel something, anything for a man that has spent his life, just as I have, looking for hope, but finding his worth tied to this family. As much as every part of me wants to flip some mirror in his face, show him all that he has done, all that he has missed, I know his memories aren’t of seared pork, built sauce and Gevery-Chambertain. My broken heart and nostrils full of life can’t deny I owe him something….

My brother is 44 years old and his body is being ravaged by years of abuse and addiction. He would lose his shit if he knew I said that…my mother would too. Secrets are HUGE in the Kemner/Dugan clan. Our deficiencies the top secret kind of shit that some of our folks would go fist-to-cuffs for and about. But me, I find myself aching and missing my mother’s soft lilting voice. She would urge me to care for him, for my sister and as I let this last bit of Gevery remind me of what really matters…Cooked cherries and smoked animal flesh, the wines and people behind them, remind me of why I can still stand tall, in the face of  the kind of chore that makes me ache for my kitchen. The soft whisper of onions, the rendering of pork…the bare feet of a woman that is free, for the first time and willing to sling that bottle to stand up and fight for those not even willing to fight for themselves. 

Mike…I’m coming. I know you won’t be pleased but just like my slow, long cooked sauce, my Maume Gevery, I might not be easy to get but….I’m here and you are going to have to deal with me.

On my way…..

Thankful....

“I’ve volunteered every year so that you could spend the time with your families, Jeremy isn’t home and I don’t have to cook but I would love to have this year off, just to stay in my jammies all morning, cook breakfast and watch football. Was wondering if either of you would be willing to step up so I can do so.” An email I sent to my coworkers a couple of weeks ago regarding working the Thanksgiving shift. It’s a short shift, (although Randy went and snuck another hour in this year) only five hours and I have to say, working the store on Thanksgiving is kind of fun. The people are in a great mood and always so grateful that we are open for a few hours, so it’s not at all a chore really but for some reason I just really wanted to be off. Randy works it every year as well and our newest employee Tim, (very young and hungry for the time and a half) stepped up right away but he doesn’t know wine so I thought one more person might be needed. Randy didn’t so even though my beloved Ronnie, (our Italian, Spanish, Bordeaux and Port buyer) offered to scoot in before the troves of family arrived at his door, Randy didn’t think it necessary…woo hoo! Off on Thanksgiving, now there’s something to be thankful for!

Opted to accept the invite to my best friend Merritt’s “Drunksgiving” a ritual started a couple years ago in which massive amounts of food and drink are consumed without the whole family around to keep you on your best behavior. Skipped it in the past as I had to be all spunky and shit for work the next morning but this year, all in for the festivities. After one too many white Russians, which is only one when they are being made by Merritt’s adorable boyfriend Evan, dude makes a mean ass drink I can assure you, (and some other behavior that I shan’t spill, gotta save some crap for the next time I am given one of those awards dealies and I have to confess to stuff), a plate of smoked turkey and mashed potatoes…okay I might have partaken in the better part of a bottle of 2009 Azo Petit Chablis…I stumbled through the front door with just enough spunk to do a, “I am so off tomorrow mother f’ers!” dance, wash my face, climb into my most adored green polka-dot pajamas and crashed, a spent puddle of the-day-before-Thanksgiving workday and too much merriment. 

Woke this morning with nothing on my plate other than lounging amongst the cheers of football on the television, cooking some bacon and eggs and at some point slow roasting some Brussels Sprouts in bacon drippings and citrus to haul over to the in-laws for the holiday feast. Bliss. Unabashed and unfettered bliss.

“Powers out!” I heard it floating from my neighbor across the way as my eyes were still darting this way and that, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Television black and silent and ceiling fan slowly wheezing to stop, deafening silence, well other than the sound of my own voice screaming, “Noooooooo!” in my head. My first Thanksgiving off in I don’t know how many years and the fucking power is out. No football, no eggs and bacon, no internet and I can’t even leave yet as my lazy ass is still in my pajamas…something I was bragging to anyone that would listen, that I was going to do, stay in my jammies all day, as we don’t have a hairdryer that works on batteries. Don’t think even the shittiest of TBS writers could have made this up. Whimper….Merde.

So I write you dear reader from my little couch island, the tapping of my nails across the keyboard and the mutterings of, “Oh Goddamn it” in my head the only sound in my annoyingly still and quiet apartment. However, the stark silence does give one time to reflect, to think about what this day is about and the things I am truly thankful for and seeing as I passed on cranking out another lame-ass, useless, “What to pair with Thanksgiving dinner” post, and seeing as I have NOTHING better to do, why not use up the rest of this slowly dying laptop battery, (feeling mighty thankful for that battery business right about now) to share with you the things I am most thankful for. Very original idea I know.

I’m thankful for:

Fucking electricity….

Jack in the Box- Both for being slave drivers and being open today and for their divine breakfast croissant which is sustaining me as I am currently without stove.

The Potato- For weathering the storm of famines and Dan Quayle jokes to be here for me. One of my all-time favorite foods, since birth The Potato and I have been through a lot together. Fried and crispy, whipped or mashed into creamy lusciousness, or simply aromatically soothing me as they bake away in the oven, The Potato is simply brilliant and I am forever thankful to have it.

Francois Chidaine- For his truly masterful coaxing of Chenin Blanc into profound greatness. Giving me mind bending wines to drink, share and teach people about. Drinking them is my pleasure, turning others on to them, a joy.

My Dislike of Chocolate- Without which I would surely weigh in at 400 pounds.

Tessa Jansen- My sister. My first true love and now a woman with a laugh that I simply cannot live without. So proud of the woman she has become.

Epoisses- The slinkiest of all the things I’m thankful for. Ungodly creamy texture, saltiness just this side of being too much, a stink that now resonates the kind of guilty pleasure I should be ashamed of. Perfect. It is a perfect cheese….and it comes with the added benefit of pissing my husband off every time I bring it home.

Randy Kemner- For taking a chance on a very reluctant wine newbie. Giving me a job that I love going to each day, (crazy last two weeks notwithstanding) and getting a kick out of my sometimes irreverent outlook on life…and wine. He has changed my life in ways I could have never imagined and there are simply no words big enough to encapsulate my gratitude.

Dave Matthews- Although really fucking slow on discovering that we are madly in love, I’ve been yanked through the gambit of emotions; pleasure, desire, sadness, awe, hope and peace through his words and music. When nothing seems to soothe me I plug into Dave and I am a calm and often inspired.

Blogging- For cracking the protective layer I’d hidden behind a good chunk of my life. Doing this has not only brought new and astoundingly loving people into my life, it has forced me to tap into this writing junk, discover my voice and in turn, made me not only better at my job, a better and more complete person. Might sound stupid or like a bit of a stretch but I assure you, it’s not. I would not be the person I am now without having this place to share my stories, my heart, my history, my love and my soul. Beyond thankful to have this place and all of you.

The Save Feature in Word- Without which this post would be vanishing in a few minutes.

Pho- Spicy citrus laden broth and noodles, surely a gift from God.

Billecart-Salmon Champagne- Now a wine of my past as I don’t think they are what they once were but, this was the Champagne that rattled my bones and sprung my passionate wine lover into action.

My In-laws- Where I am now, plugged in and able to connect to the five of you. The glow of my trusty laptop sparking a gleam in my eye like that of a five year old on Christmas morning. The smell of turkey, mushrooms and tiny heads of cabbage roasting mixed with the smell of a home I’ve been in hundreds of times before…the smell of family.

Gevrey-Chambertin- For teaching me what lust smells like. For showing me that power is not proven with weight or force but with its ability to captivate. Cooked red cherries, smoked meat, nectarines, truffles, cola and soy….all in one glass and tiptoeing across my palate.

My Husband- aka The Saint. No one could put up with my shit the way he does and has and wakes each morning willing to take it all over again, for no other reason than he gets and loves me….enjoys waking beside me every day. I don’t understand how or why he does it but, am eternally grateful, thankful that he does.

My Mother- I miss her, today more than any other day of the year. This was her holiday and the one time a year she was genuinely happy. Her face lit up, beautiful and confident has she swung from pan to pan preparing food to fill us…in more ways than one. Yeah, I miss her and am thankful in ways too enormous to articulate.

Chablis- For showing me what Chardonnay can be. Thought I might be a part of that “I loathe Chardonnay” crowd…until Chablis.

Grown Up Wipies- Without which I would feel far less fresh than I do right now. We’ve had running water through the outage but not hot or even warm water…opted to skip the shower and Ho-bath it today. Might want to add how fucking thankful I am for hot water and goddamn electricity once again.

Working Retail- This unplanned for gig has taught me to be a more patient and fair minded human. It’s amazing the things I hear, both good and bad, working the floor and it has helped shape who I am as a consumer.

Southern California Edison- For paying ridiculous amounts of money to their poor turkey less employees to come out and restore power to our little conclave of apartments. 22 hours later and I am now back on my couch, television flashing and hot water heater starting to huff away ensuring, (please, oh please) that I will have a hot shower before work tomorrow. 

My Baby- Now you know this had to be here right? I logged on this morning to have a picture of my son’s massive back tattoo meet my eyes. FFL, it runs down his spine and the message behind it was the first thing I saw…and it ran down the length of mine. Family, Friends, Life, FFL, his moniker and the thing that got him through when things seemed too much.  Jeremy was on his own this Thanksgiving, his roommates all off spending time with their family and my son, my baby, was alone and still grateful for the love that has been bestowed upon him from thousands of miles away. I will confess that I cried, allowed myself an indulgent hanky soaked moment as sat with my courser hovering above the many names on my email list, wondering who to email to unload my, so-lonely-to-hold-my-baby grief upon. The only person that I knew would understand was the young man that had penned the post that made me cry in the first place. My son. Never in my life could I have imagined that another person could hold my every emotion so tightly in their grip…should have known the second those strong premature fingers gently but forcibly wrapped around mine. Not expected, wanted or understood…those fingers that tattoo, my son knows and loves me in a way that defies every bit of logic and conventional idea of family I had, or have, ever been taught before feeling his skin against mine. My heart and awareness came alive with his touch, his laugh, his snarl when he felt he was being held to an idea or image that was beyond what he was willing or able to give. I envy his strength and understand his plight. He is my personal hero…

Lastly I am thankful that even one of you come here, to visit and support me. Never sure what the hell I am doing here, the late night rants, the gushing and the endless waxing about wine, life, my son, my loves….am forever amazed and warmed by the responses and connection spun from my lips, tongue, fingertips and voice. You all let me do this? Showers and the ability to cook bacon have got nothing compared to the warmth I feel when I’m here, talking to You. I’m thankful every day that you let me do this. I need and love you more than you can possibly know….

Happy Thanksgiving All

I am so thankful for You.

Valuable Lessons

“So, how was it?” me excitedly rushing up to one of my bosses, Dale Kemner after her birthday dinner at The Lazy Ox, a restaurant in downtown Los Angeles that I had been hearing great things about but had not tried as of yet.  I listened, mouthwatering as Dale fed me nuggets of her birthday dinner through her retelling of each tiny detail, every small plate of expertly executed and seasonally focused food. I listened and mentally pushed the restaurant up my list of “must try” joints. “Oh and after all of that, and a bottle of white Burgundy, when we split the bill it was $100 a couple” joint just leapt to the very top of that list. I’m restricting my spending as much as the next guy, um, gal, but I don’t buy shoes, clothes, art, or fancy junk for my pad so, the occasional dinner out is something I allow myself. Something I need from time to time, along with a great bottle of wine, to reward myself for busting my ass and becoming the Queen of Leftovers. Have to…..

Got home and after the long day, and hearing about such a nice dinner out, I announced that I wasn’t really feeling the whole cooking deal that evening. “Well, we could knock another one of those chains off our list” my husband offered. Okay, this is where I need to explain that I have this thing, well I have many “things” but my chain restaurant thing is kinda weird. I go to a handful of them, enjoy the food even; Chili’s and Islands both have pretty decent chips and salsa, burgers and tacos, Outback is a go-to for crab legs when I am in dire need and I dig me some Cracker Barrel when I’m in a town that has one….although if there were a Cracker Barrel down the street I doubt I would be there too often. So I’m not some snoot that looks down my nose at chain restaurants. I wish there were fewer of them and that they weren’t running small restaurants, with better food, out of business but I don’t make sweeping “They all suck” comments. Now that being said, I do look down my nose at shitty food and have no problem calling out the places that serve it up but, you ever heard me tear apart Olive Garden? Nope, know why? I’ve never been. So this is the weird part, I just don’t feel like I can make fun of a place until I’ve actually eaten there. So every once in a while we belly up to one of these places just to see if it’s all that we fear it will be. “Well, we could knock another chain off our list” and I was on my way to TGI Fridays.

The last place like that we went to was Applebees and while I was completely grossed out by the menu and volume of crap they put on every freaking entrée, I mean do you really need to cover your steak in cheddar or parmesan shrimp sauce?! Gack! And I burst into a fit of giggles when the woman behind me ordered like the biggest entrée on the menu, swapped her veggie side for fries, with Ranch of course, added on some boneless chicken wings and then added “No salt” after picking the rice pilaf option. Nearly shot my martini through my nose after listening to that exchange but all in all the food wasn’t gawd awful. I had to make some modifications, no sauce whatsoever on my meat, medium rare as opposed to my normal rare…just knew better and went for a simple baked potato rather than one of their stuffed and stacked sides. Was far from great and I don’t foresee us going back anytime soon but better than I had feared. Now TGI Fridays? Two bites in and my husband actually said, “I’d give anything to be at Applebees right now” it was that bad. Bland, greasy, ugly food and the tiny side salad I ordered in place of some wretched fried, mashed, sweet potato option, was the saddest pile of once-frozen lettuce I have ever seen. To top it off I’m sure our server was on some work release program and the place was filthy, like having to pry the covered-in-sticky menu pages apart. Should have left them stuck and hightailed to Outback or whatever. 

Marched into work the next day, straight back to my boss’ office and said, “I learned a very valuable lesson in perceived value last night”. “It’s cheap and easy” the thing I hear most when people talk about hitting up one of these chains, cheap and easy. One shared appetizer, two drinks each and two entrees and with tax and tip at that there TGI Fridays, $98.00, just a couple dollars less than Randy and Dale had spent on a real meal from an independent. What, The, Fuck?! Far from cheap and chocking down that sub-par food was anything but easy. Cannot for the life of me figure out how these places became known for being “cheap and easy”.

“Sorry we haven’t been here for a while” a fairly regular customer I hadn’t seen in a couple months. She went on to tell me that she and her husband were trying to reel in their spending and cut some costs where they could so they had been picking up wine at the grocery store while they were there gathering their other items. I nodded; let her know that I understood as she continued. “We burned through the wines at the market pretty quick and then started running through the options at Trader Joe’s” she went on. “They have so many wines under $10 that we thought we would find at least something we would enjoy drinking” she was becoming more and more animated as she shared her tale of woe with me. “I have no idea how much money I poured down the drain with each bottle of $7.00 wine, so then we thought we would up the price a little, you know, try the stuff from $11-$15 in the hopes that we could at least finish a bottle” her eyes big, shoulders and arms bouncing a little more with each expression of annoyance and frustration. “Then one night we were struggling through one of the more expensive wines we got from TJ’s and it dawned on me, why the hell are we suffering through this crap when we can go to The Wine Country?!” she motioned to her shopping cart that contained no fewer than twelve bottles, “Look at that! All of these are $15 and under and I already know we are going to be much happier with them. I don’t know what the hell we were thinking” she muttered as she made her way to the checkout. Not the first time I’ve heard that story, not even close to the first time. The perception being that you can get better deals at the grocery store or Trader Joe’s but how much of a deal is it when you are drinking, or trying to drink wines that are often purchased on closeout or factory made, lifeless, soulless swill? Of course not all of the wines in those places are like that, but more often than not the ones in that under $15.00 category are. I mean, do the math, when you are at a chain, a national chain and those skews are in every single one of those stores….well just how handcrafted and special can those hundreds of thousands cases be? Cheap but, easy?

“It’s my first time here and I noticed that you don’t carry any of the typical (nice choice of words by the way) high-end Champagnes” a gentleman that had stopped into the shop after visiting the bakery next door. I explained our Champagne department to him; that we have found that these grower, smaller production Champagnes offer so much more actual value in terms of flavor, depth, structure and length. I also mentioned the minefield of pricing games involved with carrying many of those “typical” wines, that suppliers will sell those dusty “yellow” boxes of Veuve Clicquot, (Boo Pecoche) to the Costco down the street, often at prices so low that thy can sell it to the customer for a price that  is less than what we, as a small independent store, paid for it per bottle, and lastly I posed a question to him, “Now what would make a consumer drive out of their way to come here and pick up a bottle of Champagne that they can grab at the market while buying Tums and Trisquits?” I kept it short and not too preachy, the gentleman nodding and following along and in answer to my question he responded, “Well they can be good for a gift. You can give someone a bottle of Dom and they will think, Oh look how much you spent on me” not exactly the way I like to think about gift giving, or receiving for that matter but I guess there is some value to that. “Yeah but, with wines like these, that are so much more layered, mouth filling and complex, they will open the bottle and taste what a special gift you found for them. Opening a bottle of Dom is never going to turn someone on to a new passion, wines like this” my hand resting on a bottle of Camille Saves Carte Blanche, “They can”

 Not sure if it was the explanation or my impassioned belief in what I was telling him but the guy gave me a big grin and walked out with a bottle of Champagne he had never heard of before, that and a curiosity that was just too gnawing for him to ignore. He had to taste what I was talking about and that right there is why stores like The Wine Country are so important, valuable to the community and worth driving to. No bottle necker is going to  be able to explain things the way an actual person, wine loving person can. No shelf is going to be able to help you find a wine that is to your liking or explain why that Franciscan Cabernet might not be the best option for your poached dover sole, and no one at Costco is going to tell you that you don’t need to spend the $50.00 on Far Niente Chardonnay when you can get two bottles of wine that’s equally as good for less. Look, you don’t take your car to the florist for repairs or get a physical at the doughnut shop, why buy your wine anywhere else but at a place where the people working there live, breathe and bleed the stuff? People that drink wine every day and are stocking the shelves with wines in every price point that they would and do drink themselves and whose ultimate goal is to give you the best wine drinking experience you can have, give you that, “Holy shit, this is so good” moment so that you will make that drive to see us once again. Unlike TGI Fuckyou’s we care about your pleasure and aren’t slinging slop while resting beneath some veil of perceived value. With a good retailer you will not only drink better, you can do it much cheaper and that, in this economy is extremely valuable.   

Getting Results

Still cartwheeling through my crazy tidal wave of a work schedule right now, but I can see the light at the surface and am two events away from coming up for air….and maybe even having two days off in a row. Could have done without the thirteen hour shift yesterday, after having only one day off and no matter how hard I tried to freeze the screaming in my back, the fucker was relentless in letting me know just how displeased it was with the work load, reaching, popping corks, pouring and anxiety. But today is a new day. I slept like I was getting paid to do it last night, have the morning off to just chill and rest my bones before heading in to pour and taste a bunch of grower Champagnes for forty enthusiastic customers. Little part in the sea of craziness with just enough room for me to come up for air, exhale and give those of you interested the results of my “Help a girlie out here” survey.

Got about twice as many participants than I expected. I do know what a pain in the ass doing those things can be, also aware that many people simply find them stooped and won’t do it, so thank you so much to those of you that indulged me in my queries and loosely veiled attempt to take a few days off from posting. The real reason for doing that, I mean other than actually needing to take a few days away to deal with my workload, is that after listening to some people that are far smarter and more talented than I, tell me that I should look back on the body of work I have amassed here, get it organized and maybe get a few new readers by grouping like posts together so they can just click on the stuff that might interest them, well I finally took heed to their advice and urging. Getting my collective shit together as it were. So the real question I was seeking answers to was the fourth one in which I was looking for what categories my readers were most interested in. I had fully intended to start tagging away, scroll through past posts and start labeling while gathering the responses you all gave but two things happened. One was that upon coming home after the current schedule I am plowing through I flopped down on the corner of my couch, reduced to a spent pile of goo, unwanting and unwilling to even really touch my laptop and….well it dawned on me, without having all the categories I was planning on using I would be doing the work twice! I barely read my posts when I write the fucking things, not a chance in hell I’m going to comb through my blather over and over again. I may not be smart and junk but I’m wise, (read lazy) enough to avoid, or save myself, from doing more work than I need to.

Compiled the results of the survey this morning and this is what we came up with. Now the numbers are a tad wonky, that’s what happens when you allow more than one vote per question, so you “Math in the head” kids, simmer down.

Don’t You Hate These Damn Things?

77% of you were okay with taking the survey, thanks so much.

How Often Do You Visit?

37% of you visit this silly blog once a day

28% get the email alerts and according to the “other” option Google lets a chunk of you know when I have a new post up.

Even gots me a couple stalkers, again thanks so much.

I Hate It When……

75% picked the Go a week without posting option

11% are ashamed of their dirty thoughts

Had two people tell me they hate the memoir, my history and son posts….might want to find a new blog to read then folks, those won’t be going away.

There were a bunch of write-ins on this one with, “None of the above” being the winner there. My sister also hates it when I talk dirty but then again, she should.

Grouping Posts

58% would like to see a just wine group. Gonna have to see if I even have posts that are just wine but it will be a category for sure.

47% want to know when I use the “F” word more than twenty times.

31% are looking to get their kinky on.

How Did You Find This Blog?

43% of people ended up in this loony patch by seeing my comments or blog on another bloggers site.

27% were told by a friend (and thank you for spreading the word!)

Have You Ever Reposted Posts?

53% of you have and I am utterly floored by that….and very flattered might I just add.

I Often Find Myself__________

48% of you laugh

16% of you cry, (sorry about that)

13% of you are pervs

0% are pissed at me

Another big other section with “All of the above” taking that by a landslide…with some rather curious and mildly disturbing, (ahem, pervs) answers that I shan’t be sharing, but you know who you are.

Pickles Make Me?

63% are pleased by pickles

23% are puckered by them

17% are gassy 

I Would Like To See A New Post?

59% are willing to wait until whenever

24% would like to see a daily post. Not happening, I’m no STEVE!

18% think weekly is sufficient

5% are content with a once a month. Also not happening, too much a blabber flingers for that.

I’ve Always Wanted To Know?

34% want to know what’s up with me and The HoseMaster aka Ron Washam. Tough shit folks, some things are for me to know and you never to find out. I will say Ron is a dear friend, one of the sweetest and most generous of heart humans I have the pleasure to know and love. He melts me like butta and only he can know how much I love him. There. Nosy bastards.

31% want to know why. Why what? I didn’t even understand that question.

31% are wondering what the worst wine I have ever had was. Okay, flaws notwithstanding, I have to say the single worst wine I have ever had was Molly Dooker Blue Eyed Boy Shiraz. Fucking disgusting. Tasted like chocolate and coconut covered cherries and I let out the loudest and horribly embarrassing gag when I tried to spit the vile shit from my mouth. Just like those caramel, chocolate, eggnog drinks aren’t coffee, that wine was not wine. It was a box of chocolates masquerading as wine. Hate it.

19% wankers. To ask a wine professional what their favorite wine is, well that’s just crazy. Unlike children I actually don’t have a favorite. I can’t. There is just too much involved for me to pick one wine to love above all others. What next? One meal? One song? One man? C’mon. I will say that I drink more Sauvignon Blanc than anything, have a passion….a fierce one, for grower Champagne and I am currently having a wild affair with Sherry. Good enough?

 

8% of you want to know what I really think about other bloggers. The truth is, I kind of don’t think anything of them for the most part. I’ve made some truly wonderful friends on blogs. Met some wicked cool people from them but, there are honestly so few I read anymore that I don’t spend much time thinking of them at all. My blogroll lists the ones I read daily, or whenever they have a new post but I don’t seek out new ones and have stopped reading most.

8% are wondering if there is anything left to know. Um, yes, yes there is.

As promised I said I would answer any questions left for me, I thank you all for taking it relatively easy on me here, gotta admit, I was a tad fearful but these are easy.

"Do you accept free samples for review?"
How dare you?! You know, I think I did once but no one ever asks me. Can't say I blame them seeing as I rarely review wines here. 

"Why not?"
Right?!

"I'm a wanker & what would your death row meal be?"
Dammit. This question always kills me. Too fucking hard. I think honestly, a pile of super crispy, salty french fries and a glass of Pierre Peters, H. Billiot Brut Reserve or Camille Saves Carte Blanche to wash them down with.

 

“What writer (non-blog) inspires you?”

Obviously a question from someone that skipped those memoir and “history of me” posts. I was always a horrible student and am a tad ashamed to admit, I don’t read as much as I should. That being said, I always loved Dorothy Parker, Charles Dickens, Dave Matthews, Helen Fielding, Alice Walker and Kermit Lynch.

“How did you get the job you have & How did you become the resilient child?”

No fair, that’s two questions. I got my job at The Wine Country the good old fashioned way, nepotism. Randy Kemner is my second cousin and he drug me, kicking and screaming might I just add, to my now insatiable love affair with wine. He opened that door to me and changed my life in ways I could never have imagined. Not sure how I can ever repay him for that but, I won’t ever stop trying.

The resilient child thing, well I guess I just didn’t see any other option. Sure I could go by way of my brother and many others that blame every little roadblock or hurdle for why they fail or worse, stop trying. Just could never get past asking myself the next part, “So what are you doing to change it?”. Kind of a boring answer I guess but, it’s the only one I’ve got. 

“If you are obsessively geeked-out about wine, what’s the best way to camouflage yourself so that normal people will not run screaming from you?”

Um, might I point out that you posed this question to a woman that writes erotica…about wine?! Best I can offer is to tuck those little letters after your name in and run with a herd.

“Do you think about your readers when you write your blog, and if so who, (and what should we know about that person) and if you don’t, why would you expect someone to read it?”

If I didn’t think about my readers I simply would not write at all. I think of them all the time, almost obsessively at times but the thing is, my readers are all over the map. I have wine people, not wine people, friends, family, and customers, people that seem to feel something when I write about one thing, others that swoon or get excited about something else. The responses I get are so varied, the voices, hearts and desires behind them vast. I write about my son and some people tear up, find hope, cry as it turns out and others aren’t interested. I write a rant about stupid ass Food & Wine magazine and their asinine wine pairing suggestions, some people hoot and laugh, others could give a shit. I don’t have one kind of reader and I am eternally grateful for that. I believe this question came from the same person, (and forgive me if I’m wrong…everything is anonymous so I can’t exactly tell) that thought my Memphis posts were over the top and disliked the topics that were, “More you than me” and it is for readers like you that this whole exercise is for. I don’t want you to have to, “suffer through the artistic process” when I label my posts you will be able to go right to the ones that have what you might be looking for. So see there, I do think about my readers. That being said, this is a blog, not a publication or the store’s newsletter. I come here to write whatever I feel and I’ve been lucky enough to have some people enjoy it.

“Do you grasp how amazing of a spirit you are?”

Um, not really. I have however grasped how very lucky I am….good enough?

“How do you find the intellectual energy to keep going; I’m glad that you do though”

Intellectual?! Clearly not a regular reader. I spend my energy and time here because it seems to feed me in a way nothing else has so far. I love the process, admit that I crave the responses and adoration and I have become addicted to watching a piece come to life. I rarely sit down with a post in mind. Just hunker down in front of my laptop and start talking. When something comes together it feels amazing to me. Intellectual, not so much, feeding the monkey on my back is closer to the truth.

“Did you ever go “All the way” with Amy?”

(Sighing)  No. My best friend and I did in fact go through a “phase” where we flirted and might have kissed a little, (forgive me for spilling Aims) but I think it was more to get our husbands all atwitter…and dude, did that ever work.

“Will you marry me?”

Absolutely 

“Do I have a chance, or not?”

Amy?!

Thanks for all the insight everyone. This was not only fun for me, it really was useful in the getting my shit together department. Got two more events to slug through….and I know you are all loaded up with sympathy thinking of me slugging through 11 grower Champagnes this evening, but I offer that I have to get through Nouveau Beaujolais tomorrow….and then I will have a bit more time to share, whatever it is I am feeling, with all of you here. Had my lips and tongue, (sorry sister) plunged in some heart stopping wines the past two weeks, got lots to share.

Thanks again.

Hugs and Kisses,

Wine Slinger