The Wine Commonsewer™

The Boy Turns Seventeen

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Just a few weeks ago, Numero Uno Son plopped into our world. He was born blue, so there wasn't no bonding taking place on his Ma's tummy. Like litmus paper dipped in a beaker of vinegar, he turned pink on the cold stainless steel O2 table across the delivery room. Today, he's seventeen and next week he starts his senior year in HS.

His interests lie in the manly arts: Wood. Steel. Fishing. Firearms. Boating. Competitive video games. And his GPA warrants the AAA discount.

His hand-made Metallica table earned him 94 points, a couple of blue ribbons, and a division winning trophy in the county-wide competition this past spring.

 

As I write this, my office, which lies between Jake's bedroom and The House Blond's bedroom, is littered with sleeping bodies, empty Pepsi cans, and computer equipment. Nobody is snoring, so the occasional shout-out from somebody's phone gives me a startle. DROID(!) Nobody stirs.

Jake's birthday party ends up a three day extravaganza of gaming, BBQ, and tom foolery. By day's end there should be some seventeen kids here at the Casa and I'm Fat Clemenza, cooking spaghetti for twenty guys who went to the mattresses.

BONUS:

BRINGING JAKE HOME

Like a dork, I bought this child seat designed for an obese ten year old. Keep in mind that Californicate is way ahead of the Nanny Curve, so even back then the hospital had been pressed into service by the social polezei and the child welfare department. Their job? Walk the baby out the glass doors and carefully strap him into the awaiting child safety seat. After that little Candy Striper saw the size of the car seat and finished with her brain hemorrhage (stern lecture followed) there was a group conference to determine if we would be allowed to depart with our child.

Shut up you idiots (on the inside). I50 million of us rode home from the hospital in the front seat with our mother's arms wrapped around us. Before that babies were born at home under less than ideal conditions (boil some water and bring me some clean linens, Harriet).

TWC's favorite aunt and uncle with his favorite son. 1997.

As Always,

TWC

2010 Espelt Old Vine Garnacha

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Garnacha is Spanish for Grenache, which is French for Cannonau, which is Italian for one of the most widely planted grapes in the world. The grape probably originated in Aragon (Spain) and migrated to France and Italy from there.

Garnacha can be light and fruity but the Espelt is fairly robust, a lovely ruby color in the glass. It is an interesting wine, with a very dry mouth feel. Wait, did I actually say mouth feel? WTH is mouth feel? Sounds vaguely obscene. No. I. Did. Not.

The wine is very dry on the palate (just my style). There is something oddly intriguing about the black fruit and how it sort of lingers on the tongue. It has nice tannins to give it a bit of a bite with a smooth and easy finish.

The vines were planted in 1920 and are tended to using modern methods of viticulture with an end goal of keeping the vines off of the chemicals. There are a lot of buzz words that describe the process. Bio-dynamic. Organic. I hate each of them, but it is difficult to get the point across without using the jargon. And, honestly, a lot of oranic wine is just OK. Or worse. But I love this stuff. 

Here's what Parker's outfit had to say......

A magnificent custom cuvee for Eric Solomon, this 2010 was made from high-elevation vineyards in the Costa Brava planted in granite. It was fashioned by the brilliant Jean-Marc Lafage, whose wines are reviewed elsewhere in this article. Composed of 100% Grenache aged 3 months in new French oak, it reveals copious aromas of raspberry jam, black currants, kirsch, flowers and forest floor, full body, terrific fruit, lots of complexity already, and a multidimensional mouthfeel.

They gave it 92 points and I would concur. This is a very good wine and it comes in right at ten bucks. Pair it with Italian red sauce, a steak, or a smoked cheese. 

Bonus for Throwback Thursday:

 

Yes, they're lip synching. Might be American Band Stand. I know a girl who used to be one of those dancers.

As Always,

TWC

I Done A Whole Lot Better Than They Said I Would

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

America is often portrayed as a one dimensional caricature, without historical context or cultural reference. The big bully, living on land stolen from the natives, oppressing people world wide, and sucking up all the of the world's resources. The truth is, of course, substantially more nuanced. Sure, we're a long way from perfect, but irrespective of America's flaws, there's no massive out-migration to better places.

Today we celebrate the birth of the only nation in the world that was explicitly founded on the notion that the nation-state should be subordinate to the individual. However imperfect the execution, we are not a theocracy, a kleptocracy, a mobacracy, a kingdom, a sheikdom, or a dictatorship. There's no barbed wire to keep us in, and TSA, NSA, the evolving police state, and the unending wars notwithstanding, we are still a relatively free and prosperous people. Particularly in the context of history.

Happy Fourth of July.

As Always,

TWC