Care To Be Unzipped?

“Zip-zip-zip”

A sound I hear several times a day, at least and each time can evoke a very different emotion, and I’m not even taking into consideration the madly quick “Zip” of tearing at the fly on my jeans, mostly because I don’t bother, I’m a wiggler-outer from way back. I’ve carried a backpack as a purse about as long as I can remember, (this here is where I like to remind everyone that doing “girl” really isn’t my strong suit. Before backpacks I had bowling bags, a wicker basket, a plastic lunchbox and even a toolbox for a bit…a metal one. Yeah, girl =’s fail) mostly because I do lug my laptop around but also being a mom you get used to having gigantor sacks to carry yours and other peoples crap around in. I look at those thin, shiny, clutch dealies and find myself muttering, “Don’t even think I could get my Chap-stick and wadded girlie stuffs in that!” so backpack it is and has been.

I plop my laptop in my backpack on my way to work and the “Zip-zip-zip” holds with it whatever I'm feeling about going into work that morning, the hangover and only one day off “Zip” less titillating than the “I gots me a bunch of appointments lined up and new wines arriving today” one. The sound of my zipping this blasted wheezing machine back in the sack for the trek home, again depends on what’s happening but the end of day one always carries with it a slight freedom or relief in that my day is done and I get to slip back into my home, wiggle out of my still zipped jeans and start preparing dinner before sloshing back some wine and nuzzling into my jammies. 

I confess that there are days when I barely notice the zip, coming or going. Life has a way of filling your ears and mind with other details and worries. A way of shutting out the tiny emotions that can come when we just pay a little more attention. The one “Zip” I can never ignore, the long rectangle one. The fluid, “Ziiiipppp, ziipp, ziiiippp, ziipp”  and jingle of the slider as is falls against the side of the bag. The luggage “Zip” also comes with a wide range of feelings, always better when it is your fingers releasing the slider, going somewhere, coming home…hearing someone else zipper up to leave, whole other feeling right? Little deeper heart sinking when the leaving zipper whispers its song. 

For many years the worst was hearing Jeremy back in his childhood room, packing is huge duffel bag and luggage to head back to Kentucky for school on the other side of the world…a million miles from the heart that was missing him every day. I used to hear that, “Zip” starting the mornings he was leaving and no matter what shift I was working, I was busting my ass to get out the door. No long goodbyes and no mom at the airport, nope, no sir, couldn’t take it. I heard those teeth locking up tightly and I felt my jaw doing the same. My eyes narrowing as I set forth to not hear, not see, not to feel and most certainly not to say goodbye. Bad “Zip-zip-zip”.

When it’s my pudgy fingers tugging the slider, shoving all my junk into a bag and heading out to Europe, Kentucky, Northern California and even coming home, that “Zip-zip-zip” is one of the greatest feelings there is. Not even a sound anymore, it’s a sensation that brings with it excitement, anticipation, its own brand of sadness but more born of feared loneliness than that dreadful left-behind nonsense. Yeah, I love it when it’s my “Zip-zip-zip”…

I hear a zipper against leather and I can recall slamming my car door as a tiny girl, my mother’s over-sized bag containing a jillion unpaid bills, tissues, hidden bits of the chocolate she saved for her and her alone. The tobacco and lint covered wintergreen life-savers, packets of Jack-in-the-Box taco sauce…fuck, just thinking of those bags now I can smell that cacophony of ink, spent grease, sweetness and cigarettes. I hear that zipper spread open against a leather bag and that smell comes rushing back to me as well as the sound of my mother cursing as she dug for the little holder that contained her smokes and lighter. Slightly melancholy “Zip-zip-zip” but one that feels like a sweet kiss on the forehead…like a visit with my long ago.

“Are you sure?” the shaking voice of my first boyfriend. I could hear his heart thumping and feel his breath as it swished the hairs against my base of my neck, but it was the painfully slow way I pulled at his thick zipper, like we could hear each tick of spreading teeth, our very young bodies so not ready, but ready, that is with me to this day. He was so much taller than I was, his body thin, long, muscular and always with a sheen of fresh, fragrant sweat as he had ridden his bike like five miles to see me, always when we knew my mother would still be at work. I can remember the form fitting tank-top under the slippery and glossy bomber jacket he always wore. The smell of his skin, my breath, his eager question as I un-zipped, my anything-but-sure affirmation as I let go of the slider and bloomed beneath him. The unzipping of a woman, the feeling my teeth spread apart as I learned who, how and the way I wanted. That kind of “Zip-zip-zip” sexy, sweet, makes my neck go flush with the remembrances of misplaced kisses and muffled physical and emotional burgeoning. 

Last week at the store I listened as forty something people asked with shaky voices, sat back, let me spread apart their teeth  and let us pour my passion across their throbbing palates through the wines that I have spent the past 15 years of my life unzipping and exploring. Rather electrifying moment watching a group be seduced and persuaded. Seeing them reaching for more, sitting up high and tight when we passed with the next wine. Hearing the group groan as I tugged at their clinched teeth and opened them up to wines that were so vibrant and sensual that it left them speechless in a way I’ve yet to see in all my years doing these events. I took my pink-cheeked bow, smiled and reminded them of their special event pricing, thanked them from the bottom of my heart for letting me share, expose myself and my love, preened as they lapped it up before zipping up and heading over to my Champagne racks where they devoured those wines like teenage lovers. Unreal. That kind of reaffirming “Zip-zip-zip” well it is new one to add to my playbook…feel myself unzipping just thinking about it.

Friday night I poured both Brut Rose and Pinot Noir based grower Champagnes and the response to the wines was fucking remarkable. I had people hovering over the racks, mouths agape, tasting sheet slightly scrunched in their still tingling hands, “I…I don’t know what to do. I loved them all. Like each and every one of them” the words slipping from their Pinot Noir scented lips and working their own fingering on the zipper I try and keep locked up tight, the one that hides my pride and ache to be appreciated and understood. Those people returned the favor, they spread me wide open and now have me salivating…I want to give them more.

Featured Wines

N.V. Gonet-Medeville 1er Cru Brut Rose ($54.99) One of the first wines to sell out, when I get it back in and you feel it spill across your palate and fill you with melon, citrus, the still wet stems of fresh cut flowers, well you will totally get why. The delightful texture and grace that the Chardonnay, (of which this wine is 70%, along with 27% Pinot Noir and 3% Pinot Meunier) lends reminds me of a wonderfully cut bodice of a gown, lifts and showcases all the best parts without letting it all hang out. 

N.V. Saint-Chamant Brut Rose ($59.99) This was my “weird little wine” of the night. Comprised of 92% Chardonnay and 8% Pinot Meunier this was a mineral driven wine that for me, sort of stuck out in this setting. There was a ton of minerals and bits of aggressive yeast and while I do like that style I was craving more fruit here. I think Saint-Chamant makes heart-thumping Blanc de Blancs and their Rose mirrors that refinement and tang. 

N.V. R.H. Coutier Grand Cru Brut Rose ($57.99) So this was my second to last Brut Rose and I poured them in this order because, well because the wines were Rose and yet most of them were made of mostly Chardonnay. Thought that was sort of cool actually. The blend is a little closer here with Chardonnay making up 55% and Pinot Noir picking up the rest and you can feel the weight and junk in the truck the second this wine fills your mouth. Peaches, apples, some yeast and toast but again a more restrained and delicate wine but it is that mouth filling that reminds you, this is Grand Cru, and isn’t letting you forget it.

N.V. Coessesns Brut Rose, ($74.99) The wine with the highest price tag and yet, still sold out! Made from 100% Pinot Noir this was when I was able to talk about what Pinot Noir has that Pinot Meunier will never, regality and length. Pale pink in the glass the wine seemed like it was just waiting for you to lean over for a sniff, the second your head is within its reach, it nabs you. Glorious layering of red fruit, brioche, spice, flowers and more red fruit. Not as dominating as say Billiot or Saves, but there is something woefully sexy happening here, and I want to unzip and learn more.

N.V. S. Coquillette 1er Cru Carte d’Or ($42.99) These wines are ridiculously underpriced and if I weren’t such a Champagne pimp I would keep them to my damn self but, when I think of people spending this amount on some sour, washed out, tanky Veuve Clicquot, Moet or Taittinger, well I have to keep sharing. Pinot Noir is again the biggest percentage here at 66% again it is the richness and texture, the mouth feel that grabs you and won’t let go. One of the toastier of the bunch this wine straddles that fruit to savory line, and does it perfectly. 

N.V. S. Coquillette Grand Cru Les Cles Blanc de Noir ($47.99) This wine stole my heart at last year’s Champagne and Fried Chicken tasting so I worried that it wouldn’t preform as well sans salty nibbles, I was wrong. The 100% Pinot Noir damn near has fingers that come reaching from the glass, grab hold of your face and pepper you with tart red cherries, cooking spice and warmed sweet cream. Loves red meat so don’t be shy, drink and eat up…

N.V. Coessesns Blanc de Noir ($54.99) Blanc de Noir lets you know that we are once again talking 100% Pinot Noir here and we are talking Pinot Noir poured into a sundress, or a baggy pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, whichever makes your heart thump around in your chest. Power, edge, fruit, minerals…balance and this wine is always in charge. Doesn’t get too much sexier than this.

N.V. R.H. Coutier Grand Cru Brut ($39.99) Yeah, look at that price and where this wine lined up in the tasting, it’s that good. Not a shy or coy wine by any means, in fact it is another powerhouse that demands you notice it and I’d like to think if you even tried to pour this curvy, masterfully produced wine in a bullshit flute that it would slap the shit out of you. Yeast, dark fruit, melted butter and toasted nuts all with a chewy mouth feel. Crazy how undervalued this wine is.

N.V. H, Billiot Grand Cru Brut Reserve ($58.99) Another seller-outter that night and a wine that I was gratefully able to nab another case of. Deeply saturated, astoundingly rich and palate staining as the layers of toasted bread, slowly baked apples and melted butter fight for your attention. Billiot goes all over the place and I fall in and out of love but right now, it is hot and heavy this thing with Billiot and me…

N.V. Camille Saves Grand Cru Carte d’Or (72.99) Game Changer. Always is and the new release is the same. I often refer to the wines from Camille Saves as “A librarian in fishnets” and odd as that might sound to those of you that have yet to, feel that sensation, the ones that have are already nodding along. A stunningly intellectual wine that is also as sexy as they come. Imagine the sexiest person you can…now imagine them talking politics or quantum physics. Kinda leaves you speechless no? Yeah, so does this wine. Broad, full, expansive fruit that washes along the sides of the mouth and refuse to let go, not that you want them to. The finish is relentless and with your heart thumping away in your chest you find yourself feeling fucking appreciative of its stubbornness. You may never want it to leave…too bad there isn’t too much to get. Grab them while you can, trust me. 

After a night tasting these wines, feeling myself being spread apart and exposed for the lucky wine slinger I am, I have to ask....

Care to be unzipped? 

Worth Every Minute

Finally after all the waiting, all the hours spent toiling and speculating…..wondering, aching. Finally it was time for us to be together. I simply could not stand one more day without my hands on you, my heart open to you….my body next to yours, your scent digging deep into my lungs becoming part of my memory that I can call upon whenever I need to feel you again.

Part of me felt as if I had waited my whole life for you, like each new thing I learned, each heartache, each triumph and each failure were all put in my path to placate me, distract me….prepare me for that moment, our moment, our night.

I’ve always believed that when it comes to passion and love there are no real mistakes, no right or wrong just little slices or pieces of shared time that become part of our history. Each moment weaving itself into our fabric and changing us a little. Adding to our texture, showing us what pleases us and what we would never do again…the heart’s education is never quite complete and I knew that my night with you was going to change me, add to the woman I am, become part of my fabric….I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed you, needed you to spend the night with me….teaching me, touching me, pulling back my stitching and finding your place inside me.

I was nervous of course, terrified that we had waited too long, I had dreamed too often of that moment. Let myself get lost in the idea of you…building you up to be something more than you could ever be, more than you ever promised to be. Playing it over and over again in my mind, watching your body move….seeing how my own body would react to you. Hours and hours spent dreaming, wanting, aching and finally my will, my want and my need took control and our time had come.

Nervous fingers
Heart beating against my ribcage
My lungs threatening to heave right out of my chest
My desire causing my entire body to vibrate
The sound of my own breath entering and exiting my body
My mouth wet with anticipation
Ready to feel you
Learn from you
Taste you……

Feeling you heavy in my mouth
Your weight splashing against my throat
Feeling you racing throughout my body
My own voice… groaning
My hands pulling you closer
My wait for you
My want for you
You inside me
My fabric wrapping around you
Making you
Part of me
Forever….

Every year, month, week, minute and second I waited for Us to happen
So worth it 

An Uncivil War

I will preface this post by saying that I know it will likely land me in the doghouse with many of the people that I have grown to love and respect in this business of mine. I know it and yet I still feel compelled to sit here, nails clicking away, mind a blustery mess of opinions and rants, heart kind of deflated by the vitriol and, at times, simply venomous words that are being launched…both in retaliation and preemptive, at others about something as civilizing and subjective as wine. I shall refrain from silly abbreviations and ask frankly, what the fuck?!

I was recently watching a Law & Order Criminal Intent. The story was based around a wine collector that was found dead in his, bursting-at-the-seams and much envied wine cellar. This is where I confess, (once again to my long time readers) that I am wholly addicted to all things Law & Order. I watch them all; SVU, Criminal Intent and even the plain old regular ones. Love. It is true love and I can say that I have wasted whole days watching marathon upon marathon of this particular show. So imagine my elation when finding a whole show with my beloved wine as a backdrop for an episode, with Vincent “Smoking Hot” D’Onofrio to boot. Watching the tall bunch of smart and inquisitive picking up glasses of wine, burying his nose in it….spinning my business all around all while all the while getting into the head of the suspects he is after. Well shit howdy, color me one tickled pink wine slinger.

I was about ten minutes in and my giddy heart simply sank. Douche bags. Every wine person in the show was an absolute douche bag! I shit you not. Each one loathsome and repugnant, full of their own stuffiness and insider speak. Everyone from the young rich dude, with the mansion and phone call about Bordeaux futures he was unwilling to excuse himself from in order to talk to the detectives to the over the top wine critic, called “The Nose”…of course. The guy that was super effeminate, had his nose insured by Lloyd’s of London, for like a trillion dollars or whatever the fuck, and was given into fits of haughtiness that had him spewing zingers like, “Oh you don’t know your Bordeaux from your Burgundy!” what a burn! Take that mother f’ers! Ugh. Add some cloaked hobbits and wizards and we got us a Super Dork Asshole convention. Rad…

Just could not believe that wine people were still seen as such snotty and exclusionary dickwads. What with adds everywhere, more wine showing up on television and movies. More cultures than ever coming to the wine drinking table and still, wine professionals are still being depicted as uber rich, old white guys banging young twenty somethings, (um, Ron…hesh up you) that get whacked by spiking their Comte de Vogue with Viagra. The only chick they had in the whole show was a woman from India that was on her 100^th level of WSET or something. Dude. Horrid. Horrid and quite honestly, embarrassing. I thought about boycotting Law & Order, because you know my fifteen hundred hours of viewing a month is keeping them alive but more than anything I had to wonder, “Where are they getting this shit?”

Didn’t take much digging to figure it out.

Now I have stayed pretty neutral on this ever growing, Us vs. Them, Old World (to some this will read east coast elitist) New World, (to some this will read beginners or unenlightened) Bloggers and Critics Wine War thingie. I’ve been silently tucked away in our little store watching it all. Loving many players on both sides of the bickering and mudslinging and at a complete loss as to what either is hoping to prove or moreover, win. My eyes so feverishly searching for a reason that they cause my brow to arch into that stern look that used to make my son quiver…the insecurity of my own voice keeping me from speaking up but now, now I would just like to ask everyone with some bone to pick or point to “prove” (and you know you never will right?) to shut the hell up and start thinking about what really matters. How the hell are we going to grow this business of ours?!

I sit here with my crave inducing Dave Matthews, (Oh come on Google Alert!!) groaning in my ears. Words like, “I like my coffee with toast and jelly but I would rather be licking you from your back to your belly” making me dizzy, making me….want, knowing all the while that one of my most beloved and closest friends hates Dave. Like a lot. She thinks he is horrible and is much more of the Bon Jovi, (sigh). I don’t get it. I think she is high and is missing the sensual and subtle nuance in a line like, “Kiss me won’t you kiss me now, and sleep I will inside your mouth” and she doesn’t get why I don’t’ get lit up by, “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted, wanted dead or alive”. Do I think she’s wrong? No. Not for her she’s not. Now if she is trying to seduce me, well then yes but for now she’s not and we are both content and extremely happy listening to our, very different crooners. And while I might never understand what makes her throw up the metal sign and nod her head to Bon Jovi, she will likely forever find my devotion to Dave’s sticky and dripping with sweat verbiage, “not the real way dudes talk”. 

Is My Amy wrong for thinking Jon Bon Jovi is hotter than Dave Matthews? Am I wrong in thinking that no matter how many times I am taught and schooled on classical music that it just isn’t for me? Is Ron Washam wrong for not loving Pinot Noir Rose? Is Randy Kemner wrong for not embracing Zinfandel? Is Charlie Olken wrong for defending Rombauer Chardonnay? Eric Asimov, Jon Bonne, Robert Parker, James Suckling, Alice Fiering, Alfonso Cevola, Steve Heimoff, Samantha Dugan….(check me out like putting my name in there where the fancy wine folks are, my blog goddamn it) we are all wrong when we perpetuate the insufferable wine snob and are unwilling or able to see anyone else’s point of view….and respect it.

Drink what moves you

Alice, get your natural freak on

Alfonso, I beg you…write what inspires you

Charlie, teach us with that loving heart of yours

Randy, show them all what I have seen…what made me love wine

Ron,  just write….anything

Amy, I still don’t get it but we can bicker over a glass of something icy cold and from the old world

Eric, I get you.

I crave more wine at the table. More people walking through the doors of The Wine Country. More people knowing what it is to cave and surrender, feel your throat expand and swallow, the shiver and “one more sip” of whatever wine speaks to them. 

                            (and a little of this. Damn....rawr.)

Now how do I get the producers of Law & Order to feature a funny looking, oddly shaped blonde chick that swears like a sailor, is not quite comfortable in her skin and wears glasses but is a wine geek of first order, to squash that “Nose” fucker…..

Originally posted July, of 2011..and yet. 
Sigh. 

Sure You Can But....Does That Mean You Should?

Those of you that don’t have the very real pleasure of being a Facebook friend of mine, (count yourself so bloody grateful and smarter for not having wasted umpteen hours reading my drunken, “Hey, how come we say Tris-kit and not Tris-qwee?” or, “These underpants, an unwise choice” the, “My hair, being a total dick” and the ever-so-delightful spans when I say something and then answer myself in a succession of rambling answers. Funniest thing, ever, to me and me alone) have been missing out on my current undie-twisting rant that has me barking and pointing my pudgy finger, stomping my Chuck-clad feets and muttering like that wheezy math kid in your fourth grade class that would stroke out each time you missed a long division answer. It’s charming I assure you.

Long time readers of this blog have seen, or read I should say, the flared nostril and chest heaving bitchy fits I go on. I’ve gone after customers, suppliers, wineries, critics and my most seethed upon group, “wine writers”. Critics I get have a job to do, and have some very serious wine chops, customers are more good than bad, suppliers tax my time but are for the most part fun, these wine writers, oh, sorry, “wine writers” these people are getting on my last fucking nerve. I ran into a bunch of them at the writer’s symposium I went to a couple years ago, all these writers that knew very little, if anything, about wine. I walked away from that event feeling like I had just spent a few days with Raymond Babbitt. Super gifted, like in the writing department but, maybe not so much with the practical in the world of wine. I’m talking massive amounts of perfume, unaware that Vouvray wasn’t a grape and pitching stories that made me slunk down in my chair. “These aren’t wine people. These are people looking for a niche that isn’t as competitive by the truly driven and talented as the daily news, or as technically challenging or demanding of accuracy, and actual facts as economics or sports. Peddling pabulum to the unaware and slightly afraid” the slightly sad comment I made when I was picked up from the airport when I got back. Of course I didn’t mean all of them but…the most aggressive self-promoting fell in that camp. Made me nervous and the shit I’ve seen in the past few months that passes as “wine writing” well I was right to be.

“This wine was awful” a tight jawed customer pointing to a bottle of Lava Cap Barbera I had, begrudgingly recommend to him. I felt the knot forming in my throat and the “Dude..come on now” face trying to break through the retail perma-grin. I recognized him the second he walked through the door that day. It was him. The guy that had asked me to do the fucking impossible and gave me a ration of shit because I couldn’t pull a miracle out of my ass. 

“Yes, I need a wine to go with a skewer dinner” I stood there with my head cocked waiting for the next bit of actual, useful information…didn’t come. “Okay, well what might you be putting on those sticks then?” I asked with as playful a smile as I could muster. “Oh, two kinds. One is beef cubes with a brown sugar glaze and red onions. The other is shrimp with garlic and basil” my head did that little tick thing it does when my brain is revving over and trying to implode. “Well, that’s quite the range of flavor there. You were thinking two wines right?” my hopeful lilt. “No, just one wine and we only like red. My girlfriend is a big fan of Menage a Trois, so a nice dry red like that would be good with those dishes don’t ya think?”….thinking, that appears to be the error of my ways. “Um, well okay. There really isn’t one wine that is going to be super tasty with both of those” I spent over fifteen minutes doing my best to let this cat know that he wasn’t going to find a wine perfect for brown sugar glazed beef and basil scented shrimp….this guy was simply relentless, emphatic and arduous. He wanted a dry red, like the rather sweet Menage a Trois, to go with his skewers and was pissed off at me because I couldn’t, or wouldn’t concede that there was one. I ended up telling him to have some fun with a couple tasty reds and see what tasted right to him. “I won’t tell you it is a good pairing but you should enjoy the wines” I managed over a pained and puckery smile. “So, if you had to try and pair a wine with both dishes?” relentless and that was when I grabbed the afore mentioned “awful” Barbera. I knew it wouldn’t be a good match but simply hoped it would be juicy enough to please the sweeter Menage a Trois palate and with enough acidity to not smother the dish. “That wine is awful and too acidy” said with a stuck out tongue and all.

Hate that. Hate not being able to please a customer. I didn’t want to pair a wine in an impossible situation. I knew whatever he tried to drink with those two very different foods would taste like shit. “Acidy” shit even. My hands were tied and now I had this grumpy mug in my face. Where do people get this idea that you can find a perfect wine for every possible dish on the planet?! I mean that seems like a rather impractical idea to me, everything has limitations and flavors can be so wildly diverse, where could these consumers possibly get the idea that wine is appropriate, one wine even, with every imaginable food you throw at it?! Oh, that’s right….

“Wine writers”

So over the past two weeks I’ve seen wine pairing articles for Girl Scout Cookies, Cherrios…as in breakfast cereal, (and that was the third, third breakfast cereal wine pairing bullshit article I’d seen. If you are looking for wine suggestions for your Cherrios, well I hate to piss in them but you have much, much bigger problems to address than which wine will play off the delicate honey and oats, in your fucking breakfast cereal…but the last wank of a writer suggested Sake if that helps) peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and Buffalo chicken wings. Perfect. No wonder. A couple back and forth situations with one said “writer” that told me, “People want to read these articles” but had a strangely absent comment when I asked, “Does that mean it makes it right? Just who do you think ends up untangling all the damage those horseshit pieces do?” and an old friend,  who happens to be a  winemaker, telling me that I shouldn’t be so dogmatic about food and wine pairings. That they should be fun and people should just drink what they like…that also never responded when I asked, “So should wine writers be writing articles that imply that they will actually find wine and food pairing bliss with breakfast cereal and Sake or Thin Mints and Shiraz?” I happen to agree with him, it should be fun and I have zero problem with people slogging back Stella Rosa with their lasagna so long as they are happy. What irks the living shit out of me is people in an authoritative position, the people writing the articles, making shit up and forcing wine into places where it has no real function.  Maybe it is me…

So I turned to the ever knowing interwebs and did a quick Google search on food and wine pairing, holy shit! Lots to sort through so I felt very lucky to stumble upon a “Five Easy Tips” piece to food and wine pairing. 

    1)  Choose food and wine that taste great on their own. (Sage, this is sage advice and why they fuck didn’t I think of that? Here I was picking one thing that tasted good and one that tasted like shit…what a nincompoop I am)
  2)  When in doubt always follow #1 (Really? Only on #2 and we are already referring back to #1?) 
   3) Choose wine and food that complement each other. (Um, isn’t that sort of why I came here? To have you shed maybe a little light on that?) 
   4) Use contrast flavors to have a party in your mouth. (Anyone that says “party in your mouth” is a twat)

   5)  Keep it simple. (Yup, um hmm very useful that)

This. This kind of glib, loose and unreasonable junk is what is now passing as wine writing? Not sure how this is going to grow the wine business…in fact from the look on the skewer guy’s face he won’t be looking to wine professionals again anytime soon. My fault for picking that wine or the series of everything goes with wine articles that are trying to “bring it down” to the common folks fault? Are those articles bringing it down and making the idea more accessible or making wine and food pairing down-right stupid? I’m not saying don’t drink this with that, not my job or desire to yuck anyone’s yum but are we, as wine people/writers, doing those seeking our knowledge a service or a serious, and dangerous disservice by telling them “This goes with this” or that wine is always the right choice even when it doesn’t or isn’t? Got called a snob for asking that. As if me asking was looking down on people and those fakers making shit up, for the “un-informed”, aren’t being the very epitome of utter snobbery. “Oh, let me explain, in a language you might understand…like chicken wings. Oh and I can even scribble you a scratch and sniff if you need a visual aid” Where did these people come from and why the fuck should we take their advice?

Okay. Let me give ‘er a go…

 Bac'n Pieces- The texture and aggressive chemical smoke on this savory...food item, calls for something breakfasty, like Peach or Almond Champagne. Flip the plastic top, on both or all three and have a party in your mouth. 

These Vienna treats call for Gruner Veltliner. No other wine will do.

Well turkey dinner is a wine pairing nightmare. All the sweetness and complexity on the spoon can make one's head spin but tried and true classics like Nouveau Beaujolais and Zinfandel are just what the wine doctor ordered here...the latter having the added bonus of having 15% + alcohol content which also acts as a sleep aid.

Peppers can be a bitch as far as pairings go and add pickled to it, well now things are getting treacherous. Just gonna go with that chick on the can looks pissed so you had better get her something she really, really wants to drink, maybe a few shots of Reposado? Maybe she will forget why she wants to cut your heart out.

Easy, Muscat. Will induce vomiting which causes weight loss.

Who the fuck cares?! These are bacon wrapped hot dogs...the only thing as brilliant would be angel tears.

Caymus Special Select as the residual sugar is a perfect match for Green Flavor.

Duh, Champagne...preferably Boo Pecoche or Moet. (Sort of a cheater pairing) 

Jury is still out on these, just looking at them induced gagging but in a pinch maybe ChocoVine because if you are going to barf it might as well me coco scented? 

Now this is all about aromatics, as in your personal aromatics. Consider your signature scent when thinking about this pairing. Viognier, Gewurztraminer, Riesling and super botanical Gin is always a refreshing choice.  Have fun and experiment!

A good, even great writer is just that, a good or great writer doesn’t mean they know fuck all about wine. Let them edit your journal but maybe don’t let them be in charge of dictating what you put in your mouth! You just want to suck back wine with whatever you have on the table, dude, do it. I encourage any and all wine drinking but pounding a round wine in a square plate ain’t doing any of us any good and it sure as hell isn’t going to help prove or inspire the wondrous and possibly life changing moments that are the rare and breathtaking instances when you have that little sliver of this washed down with a winey splash of that. I guarantee, no Girl Scout Cookie, breakfast cereal or chicken wing pairing will ever unlock the magical gate to that secret garden.

Truth be told, those little palate staining, groan inducing bits of perfection are almost too much to take all the time. Just like we can't lock ourselves in a room and make love every second of each and every day, we can't and shouldn't be seeking perfection on the food and wine front, like every meal. We need to cherish them when we find them. Savor them and NOT reduce them to some bullshit game of Old Maid or Go Fish. The wines and all of us, we deserve better. 

Just freaking sayin'