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Early this morning I fixed up some red sauce with Italian Sausage and a
half bottle of Chianti. Figured on letting it simmer in the stock
pot for the better part of the day. One of those instances when I
actually put some wine in the food. Along about supper time it got snaffled up, post haste.
In the distant days of my vagrant yoot, Miltie dragged me off to a New Years celebration that was nigh on as perfect a set up as any guy could hope for. Just us and a house filled with gorgeous teen age girls. No parents. My eighteenth birthday was lookin' sweet. Things were pretty cool until Jim Beam crashed the party. By midnight, Jim and I were bouncing off the walls, laughing maniacally, and generally making ourselves obnoxious.
To ring in the new year and the new decade (not saying which one), we whooped and hollered and ignited a variety of illegal Mexican celebratory devices. Mine were obviously shoddy firecrackers with defective fuses that kept exploding before I could let go. Miraculously, all my fingers still work.
Like a sled to Hell with greased runners, things deteriorated rapidly after twelve. The promise of an evening spent with a sweet young thing entwined in my ams ended with a faceplant in a chilly, damp, backyard lawn. Oh, and Mr Beam was kind enough to introduce me to the lonely Samoyed, who was considerably more delighted with my company than any of the chicks were. You ain't lived until you've been face-licked out of a drunken stupor by a happy dog. The only upside that night is that TWC doesn't get hangovers. Still don't. Good genes, I guess.
I don't drink Whiskey, Scotch, or Bourbon. Now you know why. And to this day, just the faintest aroma of any of it roils the contents of my stomach.
I can't blame any of the really stupid stuff I did as a kid on alcohol because I didn't drink or do drugs in high school. At 18, I had no experience with alcohol and nobody told me a thing about it except Pop, who said.....
If you show up on my doorstep drunk, I'll take your keys until the Second Coming, or when you leave home. After I kick your butt from here to breakfast.
My kids have had a sip of wine here and there, but I do not let them drink. I do talk to them about alcohol and weed, though. I tell them that there's plenty of time for any of that later, that the law will make their lives miserable if they get caught, and that a little bit goes a long way. Hopefully, they won't have to learn the hard lessons.
For a screw top wine, this one is pretty drinkable. It is a Monterrey County wine brought to market by importer Vino del Sol, an outfit that specializes in Californicate, Chile, Argentina, and New Zealand wines as well as Japanese craft beers. Vino del Sol's wineries produce wines that are all estate grown, on family farms that strive for harmony with the environment.
The name, Formation, refers to to geologic formations of the Monterey County region that were formed many millions of years ago. The ancient marine layers and alluvial soils are a result of the primordial sea and shallow coral beds over oceanic volcanic crust.
A very approachable Cab with concentrated flavors of blackberries and raspberry jam with notes of wood spice. A great combination of power and elegance, structure and finesse.
Approachable means drinkable to me. Just wine jargon, so let's dispense with it. Long time readers know I have two peeves. Too much oak and that cloying off-sweet taste that is euphemistically referred to as cherries. This wine is good on the oak but it narrowly misses the off-sweet cloying cherry thing. It gets right up to it and runs away. Good thing.
You'll find it at Cost Plus for around $12.00 US. $14.00 elsewhere. On TWC's price value scale, I'd say it rates a -20%. That means it is a solid $8.00-$10.00 wine.
everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink and swore his last
oath. Today, we are a pious and exemplary community. Thirty days
from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds and gone to cutting
our ancient shortcomings considerably shorter than ever.