Happy Thanksgiving

It’s time to eat 

it’s time to eat.

Goblets filled up 

like loaded glocks in the street.

Hot-bodied women

surround me like a beat.

My peeps, 

their peeps, 

we bon appetite!

Some flights of grand cru, 

some Bordeaux we do too.

Onto the new new 

You can’t even see through.

Help yourself to more, 

we food and wine whores.

Step up to the plate, 

this ain’t the first date.

So it’s your turn, pick what you like, this party is powered by your appetite.  The games we’ll play, your dirty mouths, never though a classy bitch could spout that out.

Flat screen on the wall, entertainment we ball.

With a booty like that

you should lead the pub crawl.

Surround sound in our ears,

Carpet under our feet,

Kush smoke in the air,

We’ll be thankful all week!

So it’s your turn, pick what you like, this party is powered by your appetite.  The games we’ll play, your dirty mouths, never though a classy bitch could spout that out.

Birthday girl by my side,

like my old school pager

Got a wicked attitude,

you might be seeing that later!

Now raise your glasses up

and toast to her 29.

Reps the East Coast 

until the day she dies!

So it’s your turn, pick what you like, this party is powered by your appetite.  The games we’ll play, your dirty mouths, never though a classy bitch could spout that out.

Now we all here

yeah we all here

Get you grub on

Get you groove on

Thanks for hosting 

Glad you made it

Happy Birthday
Happy Thanksgiving!

Ready Your Sea Legs!

Ballast Point Brewing Company, your Imperial Porter “Victory At Sea” has transcended me onto the wet decks of a maiden voyage, compliments of this bottle of liquid courage.

I would drink this beer into battle. While I have had so many, this very special porter reeks of masculinity and sacrifice. Trial and error and ultimately perfection has conjured up a quintessential elixir that offers the consumer some serious bragging rights. If I had a sword I would raise it to this beer on the bow of a ship, embrace the peg leg, the eye patch, the salty air, the unknown, my beard and the wench who I have stowed below deck.

Now where were we? The Café Calabria coffee that was introduced to this porter has tremendous integration and no bitterness whatsoever. There is an intensity that lets you down easy. The depth of flavors, are as dark and vast as the sea at night. As in, you don’t want to know what’s down there. I recognize and appreciate the sweet components that the natural vanilla bean and caramelized malt deliver. I’m realizing now that this is truly the rum of beers…and to think that someone randomly left this in my refrigerator. 

Here’s to making new discoveries of your own!

Marinate Me In Malbec

2008 Achaval Ferrer Malbec Mendoza $20

What I tasted: The most pure expression of fruit from a Malbec at this price point. This wine is as they say, LOADED. Unmistakably gorgeous, it has candied red hues, stewed dark raspberry flavors and tannins to dry the gums quite nicely, in their mild cloy. Dialed in concentration packs a punch, able to pair with any privileged protein. Mr. Malbec here is certainly the man, and its impression everlasting--much like its elongated finish. Safe to say it can see some age, hold onto it for up to five years without a worry.

What I learned: The 2008 season in Argentina was difficult due to rain. Roughly half the wineries suffered, at Achaval Ferrer they picked early and were rewarded. Half the fruit in this wine is from the land on the estate, the other half is leased in several different districts. The vines are 16-86 years old and 1 vine is equivalent to 1 bottle of wine (very low yields). In all, 10,000 cases are produced, and I did my part to deplete the share.

Italy, You Made Me Happy!

Last night I was at a dessert party. There was probably 12-15 people of which a few I knew. Before you were allowed to fill up your plate with the cornucopia of confections, you had to stop at a small table to smell and silently identify 4 viles of various scents (Le Nez Du Vin). You then recorded those results on an index card and submitted it to the host. It was a great game to start the evening. That being said, I quickly made my way over to the wine.

Syrah, a Cabernet Sauvignon Blend, Dry Riesling, Bordeaux Blanc...funny no dessert wine. Of course I powered through a mini tasting of these wines, however with little focus because I was anxious for what I had brought, a Cascinetta Vietti 2008 Moscato d' Asti D.O.C.G.

Moscato, the grape, is known by several names: Orange Muscat, Muscat, Muscat Canelli, Muscadel, and so on. Now I will tell you, I don't drink a lot of Moscato--but this wine was F%$#ing awesome. You know it's F%$#ing awesome when you think to yourself, "hmmmm, would Muscato be a cool name for my first born son?" That aside, along with a conclusion of "no probably not", it doesn't change the fact that this wine made me happy.

Moscato isn't known for extracting terrior and expressing the land or tasting like a million dollars--the Cascinetta Vietti was no different in that sense. Thankfully however, it didn’t taste like the few bad examples I had in the past. This was pure, full and creamy. It almost reminded me of key lime pie, except with that classic musk aroma, almost a fresh sage aspect and "strong enough for him but PH balanced for her." It was delicious and perfect for almost any dessert, I will be buying more. This wine was 16 bucks. Not inexpensive, but exactly what I look for in a Moscato. Find it and start with two bottles because it's only5.5% Alc. Enjoy the Buzz!

Oh and by the way, I won the scent identification game!

This Should Not be Taken Lightly

Wine is some SERIOUS stuff! Chinon I refer to as, 'fresh off the boat'!

When French Chinon hits U.S. soil, leaves its shipping container, finds its way into your hands, resting at the bottom of your wine glass and is finally greeted by your wiff--you then know--you're no longer in Kansas. One French kiss of this foreigner via a sip and you may just find yourself proposing for French--Chinon citizenship.

If I were a florist from the town of tours, in the region of Touraine, in the AOC of Chinon, interpreting the 100% Cabernet Franc that is Chinon--I'd be creating edible arrangements. A sprig of dill, rods of jalapeno, stalks of asparagus, cucumber and bell pepper. I'd then add to this arrangement 6 cherries, 2 raspberries and 1 blackberry and lace it with limestone powder--sounds delicious right!?

There's a quote that says, "Chinon is not just French, its very French." I've also read, the Loire is said to be where the purist French is spoken--Chinon must have one of the thickest French accents!

My point is Chinon's greatest strength is its individualism. In a world of globalization and in a wine world where so many strive to be something they're not, Chinon is always true to itself. It's a clever wine, that's a secret play, makes a great conversation piece and is the epitome of a food wine. Heck even rapper JayZ has said "When I'm fienon' for a reason, I leanon a little Chinon."

Ladies and gentleman, JayZ's right--pour some out for your homies, and here's to Chinon.

Enjoy the BUZZ--While It Lasts!

Obsession can lead to madness, if I don't have another sip of Quevedo 2007 Vintage Port soon, I may go insane!

This bottle was a barrel sample, brought into the United States by this man, Oscar Quevedo.It was the only one of it's kind in the country and he shared it with myself and a few other Seattle Sommeliers--I can't stop thinking about it.

The 2007 year in Portugal has now been declared a 'Vintage' year and the wines are just now starting to show up in the market. In the case of this particular wine I'm surprised the Portuguese wine cartel didn't have the place guarded like a Colombian drug deal. I seriously felt like this product had addictive qualities, as I had struggled to control my compulsive consumption. Here is what I tasted:

Intoxicating plum reeked from the glass. Gob's of black currant smothered my nasal cavities as I sopped up a smattering of it's unctuousness. A smile. Ear to ear. My sense of smell and sight and taste never more acute. All other senses now dull and dormant as I tilted back for my first sip. Before it hit my lips I knew, like the all knowing, it was decidedly so. Silence. Blueberry flavors that seemed impossible, plump thick plum juice then, the kind that makes you check the mirror for oozing facial drippage--like the drewl after dental Novocaine. If only my face fit into the little port glass, I would have stuck it in.

This black fruit was like that of which for pancakes or the surface area of toast. Prune was a part of this whole equation, and the formula a genetic masterpiece. Like colors I don't know the names of and how describing them does no justice--I can't explain some of this wine's flavor. Things I can question, but can only choose to ultimately accept.

After tasting this Port, I DID have to check my pants, and I AM starting to go a little mad. Why, you ask, don't I just buy a bottle?

Quevedo does't have an importer yet, which means I never will until they do! My advise to YOU, is to simply enjoy the BUZZ--while it lasts.

GONE GOING

It's evident that life never stops. You can lie there at night, with the window down and hear its continuum. Trash trucks, squeaky breaks, the wind then to the leaves, leaves then to the vineyard.

From the earth works the root, from the root the vine and its growing pains of ache and struggle. Similar to the stimulation of man, it's Miss Mother Nature who coaxes out vinous fruit like an apple, impossible to resist. In bottle and behind cork, once again come whispers in message; there they remain until even after they're gone--rest then their souls. Death imitates life and how alive with death some things are. The hands of the maker split, hardened and sore, weathered by the world. Asking forgiveness, then healed. Giveth and taketh away, no word as to the reasons why. Sacrificial acre dust scattered about the land and its expanses; touched by life, sweat, blood and tears.

A drizzle soon to a saturation, this misting an emotional miracle--nurturing the neglected. Cyclical not, predictable no, foreseeable so, rain once again. Too much, too little, just right, night sets in, the moon, the stars, the planets, the abyss. A wonder what it would be if no one noticed. Exists however its presence, listen to it and learn, wisdom awaits in your glass, open your window.