The Wine Commonsewer™

Christmas Season Don't Start Until TWC Plays This Tune(and don't you forget it!)

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

It is the Friday after Thanksgiving and you are now free to commence celebrating the Christmas and Hanukkah holidays.  OK, well, technically the first day of Hanukkah was Thanksgiving Day, and I'd like to wish my Jewish friends all the best. 

Traditionally, here at Casa de las Rocas Grandes, we open for Christmas with a raucous, upbeat, boogie version of a very familiar Chuck Berry classic. The odds are high that unless you're a long time Gentle Reader, you've not heard it. This is the best rendition of the tune.

You can find several videos of Lynyrd Skynyrd's cover around the tubes, but some years back there weren't any at all. To rectify that tragedy, I made my own. Yes, those are my kids.

Done up right by one of the  later incarnations of Lynyrd Skynyrd, the vocals are by Johnny Van Zant, Slick Rick (Rickey Medlocke), and HT (Hughie Thomasson). I love Billy Powell on keyboards, ain't nobody does piano boogie better, except maybe The Killer in his prime. Can Skynyrd replace Billy Powell? I dunno, maybe not.

As Always,

TWC

TWC's Thanksgiving Proclamation

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote in Oldtown Folks that the king and high priest of all festivals was the autumn Thanksgiving. When the apples were all gathered and the cider was all made, and the yellow pumpkins were rolled in from many a hill in billows of gold, and the corn was husked, and the labours of the season were done, and the warm, late days of Indian summer came in, dreamy and calm and still, with just frost enough to crisp the ground of a morning, but with warm trances of benignant, sunny hours at noon, there came over the community a sort of genial repose of spirit—a sense of something accomplished, and of a new golden mark made in advance on the calendar of life—and the deacon began to say to the minister, of a Sunday, I suppose it's about time for the Thanksgiving proclamation.....

Thanksgiving is unpretentious simplicity. A single day dedicated to the celebration of life, the change of the season, and the appreciation of family, friendship, God, and the many blessings that have crossed our myriad paths

As we break bread and pour wine in celebration, we should remember that it is an accident of birth that finds us in a land of material well being and relative freedom. Be grateful that your family won't hear air raid sirens tonight. Give thanks that home isn't a squalid refugee camp in Pakistan or a mud-walled, tin roofed shack on a back alley in Haiti. Appreciate your friends and family this day, many in the Phillipines won't have that opportunity again.

TWC is grateful to my clients, who make it possible for me to earn living doing something I enjoy and are the very reason why I have eaten breakfast with my kids almost every day of their lives.

I am thankful for friends and family; for your friendship, love, and kindness. And to you, Gentle Reader, who takes time out of your busy day to drop by every so often. If you didn't read the musings of a wine dog, there wouldn't be much point in writing it. Thank you. 

May all y'alls day be blessed.

As Always,

TWC

Brining the Turkey

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

We used to do the huge family Thanksgiving dinner with all the in-laws and such that we could muster out, but that tradition has seen livelier days.

The Boy is off to the desert for the weekend with friends and I must say that offering up a manly hug and and a wish for a happy Thanksgiving left me feeling somewhat peculiar. [shrugs] That leaves just three of us, The House Blond, Mrs TWC, and moi and calls for a small turkey, which TWC plans to grill over a low temperature mesquite fire.

That said, this brine works nicely for our smallish turkey and it will also do the trick for a bird large enough to feed a houseful.

The brine is simple to make.

Ingredients

1. Two cups brown sugar
2. Two cups Kosher salt
3. One quart apple cider
4. One quart water
5. Five cloves garlic
6. Five tablespoons fresh rosemary or two tablespoons dried rosemary
7. Orange zest from two oranges or four ounces of orange juice

The Process

1. Combine the first four ingredients in a large non-reactive pot and simmer on the stove top until the sugar and salt is dissolved
2. Dice the garlic and rosemary and add to the pot
3. Set aside to cool
4. Once cooled, add the turkey to the liquid inside the stockpot
5. Add a 50/50 mix of apple cider and water to the pot so that the turkey is almost completely submerged
6. Cover and refrigerate for at least twelve hours. A full day is better
7. Rinse the turkey thoroughly before cooking

I use a large stockpot, but that may not be large enough for a big turkey. Any large container that won't react to the sugar/salt/cider mixture is fine.

By adjusting a shelf in the fridge, my stockpot will fit. If yours won't, stick it in an ice chest. Pot in first, then surround it with ice.

If you live in the cold climes, put the pot in the garage or shed. Make sure it doesn't freeze, but don't let it get warmer than forty degrees.

For those who aren't familiar with brining, the sugar and salt tenderize the meat and enhance the flavor without leaving your turkey tasting more like sweet, salty apples than turkey. You must still season the turkey exactly as you always do. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

As Always,

TWC

 

 

 

The Side Dish I'm Bringing to Thanksgiving

 Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Any thoughts as to what you might be bringing to Thanksgiving dinner?

Tip of the glass to Rachel

The 24th Day of Thanksgiving

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

I've had the good fortune to have had breakfast with my kids nearly every day of their lives. I am the short order breakfast cook and I'm just the guy to hammer on them about breakfast being the most important meal of the day. It is, and if dad is the breakfast chef, then he knows that the kids are eating before school.

The Boy always has enjoyed a Cup of Joe in the morning. It had an especially soothing effect on him in elementary school.

You'd think with the thousands of pictures I have there might be one or two of the kids eating. And you'd be wrong. LOL.

As Ever,

TWC

The 23rd Day of Thanksgiving

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

TWC is grateful that it's windy, chilly, and clear in the aftermath of a passing storm, which left a little snow behind in the Southern California mountains. Might be a little snowboarding going on over Thanksgiving weekend as we settle into our normal winter weather pattern. 

• A few days of yucky, soupy, dripping fog, courtesy of Coastal Eddie and Onshore Flo. Hate those two, especially that Flo chick.
• The fog then gives way to cold storms sweeping down from Alaska bringing blessed rain.
• The storms clear off leaving us with cool, clear days and views to the horizon
• After which gale winds descend upon us from the Great Basin, cold at first, then warming as the friction of air moving through mountain passes heats the Santa Ana Winds, leaving us with us with balmy, shirt sleeve weather for a few days.
• The entire cycle takes two to three weeks to run its course and repeat. 

That's Mt Baldy across Lake Mathews at sunrise this morning, just one of many things I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving.

As Always,

TWC

Where Were You Fifty Years Ago Today?

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

There are a very few defining cultural moments that every generation shares. As a rule they almost always include the question: Where were you?........What were you doing?..... Our parents could recall in indelible clarity the events of December 7, 1941. For older Baby Boomers, whose coming of age included Viet Nam and summertime cities in flame, a watershed event was the assasination of JFK. And most everyone of us can tell you where we were and what we were doing when the news came.

TWC had math class immediately after lunch. Mrs Lush's English class. Mrs Lush, who pointed out on the first day of seventh grade that her husband was a trumpet player, not a drunk. The point was lost on me because, unbeknown to Mrs Lush, the term had become archaic when she wasn't looking.

We knew something was very wrong as we filed into the classroom. Her eyes were red and swollen and she got right to it. The president has been killed in Dallas. I was pretty sure she wasn't a Kennedy supporter, being a fundie and all, but the idea that someone had killed the president threw her around. As it did us all. Life was pre-empted for three days.

My good friend, Chuck, was a cinematography major at Long Beach State. Somehow, he got hold of bootleg copy of the Zapruder film, which was illegal to posess in those days. We watched that film, frame by frame, a zillion times in his bedroom. You can't see what, exactly, was happening on the grassy knoll, but something interested Zapruder, and there is just a sense of what it was, almost visible, like a specter and gone.

I am not a conspiracy theory true believer, but the evidence I saw in that film doesn't support a shot from the Texas School Book Depository building, which would have come from above and behind the motorcade. Graphic as it may be, JFK was shot in the head and a piece of his skull flew backwards out of the car. Backwards. Backwards over the trunk, after the car had passed Oswald's sixth floor lair. I'm not an expert on gunshots, but it stands to reason that if JFK was shot from the TBD, that piece of his skull would have flown into the front seat or onto the hood, not the exact opposite direction, onto the trunk of the limo. Backwards. Toward the TBD from which the shot was fired. See for yourself.

As a sidebar: 11-22-63 is a wonderful book, give it a read.

As Always,

TWC

Photo Cred: TWC all rights reserved

The Tenth Day of Thanksgiving (Jarhead Red USMC Birthday)

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Tun Tavern, perhaps the first brewhouse on the waterfront in the City of Brotherly Love, is where Uncle Sam's Misguided Children came squalling into this world. Most Americans don't realize that the entire American Revolution was born in taverns, all across the land.

TWC is an extremely reluctant warrior, but if a man must go to war, or if a bar fight breaks out around you, these boys is who you want to have your back. Them or IDF. But it ain't their birthday. 

Iwo Jima Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery

So, pop a cork on a bottle of Jarhead Red and wish the Corps a happy birthday. I'm wondering if they'll be serving Jarhead Red at the Marine Corps Ball.

Jarhead Red is a red wine, a manly wine, as all wine would be if it could choose its destiny. Benito reviews it here.

For the guys out there that still think of wine as a girly drink, get over it. The Norwegian version of 'cheers!' is skål, which means 'skull'. This goes back to the practice of Vikings drinking wine* out of the hollowed-out skulls of their enemies.

Sidebar: If Harry Truman had his way, there would be no Marine Corps. After Iwo and the war in the Pacific? Who does that?

TWC spent a little time hanging with Uncle Sam's Misguided Children. However, I didn't do much for This Man's Marine Corps except get me a back seat flying license, a Firewatch Ribbon, and a pair of Captain's bars. The Captain's bars were for fun, to see how the other half lived. Get a salute instead of offering one up. In retrospect, I 'spose the Marine Corps might have taken impersonation of an officer a bit more serious than I did.

I never went to war, but I was called a Baby Killer anyway. Got run off the road once. Well, they tried, anyway. Never rode my murdercycle to El Toro in uniform after that. Got flipped the bird by long haired, drug crazed, hippie freaks every so often. There are those with a revisionist bent who'll say it wasn't like that. I've heard it before. I just shrug.

The Viet Nam vets had a cross to bear and a lot of them were draftees, not volunteers.The people who sent them turned their backs and the people who reviled the war blamed them for making the war happen. 

Thankfully, it isn't like that now.

As Ever,

TWC

Photo Credit: TWC 11-23-11 ©

The Ninth Day of Thanksgiving (Pink Water)

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

One of the perks of dragging my sorry self outta bed is being blessed with a pink sunrise.

That's the narrow, southern end of Lake Mathews where Cajalco Creek empties into the lake. The inflow from the Colorado River Aqueduct, which transports water across 200 miles of desert and mountains from Lake Havasu, is off camera to the right.

As Always,

TWC

The Third Day of Thanksgiving

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

TWC is thankful that daylight savings time expired last night.

I'm no fan of DST, but It was pointless for the CONgress to stick us with another four weeks of DST in 2005. That dumb ass move cost the airline industry almost 150 million dollars and resulted in energy savings of pretty much zero. DST disrupts our sleep cycles, is hard on our hearts, and is linked to an uptick in car accidents. 

The lack of energy savings is intuitive. If it's still pitch black at 6:30 in the morning in late October, you're not saving any juice, you're just shifting the usage from evening to morning. And if it's pitch black at 6:30 here in the southland, what time does the sun come up in Seattle? 

Americans don't use electricity in the same way we used to. In July 1951 the family gathered around the Philco radio in the living room while a fan circulated hot, sultry air, providing the illusion of cooling. In July 2013 flat screens blare day and night, often competing for attention from several different rooms. The air conditioning might be set at an eco-friendly 70-something, but it still runs when it's hot outside. In 1951, an air conditioned home was virtually unheard of. 

Incandescent bulbs, radio tubes, and electric fans are orders of magnitude less energy intensive than a/c and plasma screens and whatever time the sun sets is only nominally related to energy consumption.

TWC changed all the clocks in the house except this one ^. It's twelve feet up on the wall. I gotta shove the couch outta the way, then stand tippie-toed on the top of the step stool to reach the knob on the bottom that moves the hands. Show of hands: Is manually setting a mechanical clock a lost art?   

I have several soft drink advertisement clocks, which were manufactured by the PAM Clock Company between 1950 and 1965. Each is a remnant of something that once was and cannot ever be again. I doubt I coined the term, but the clocks are a part of what I call Roadside Americana, the zenith of which lasted from the end of the Big War until the smog engine killed the muscle car.

All my mechanical clocks keep time better than the digital clock on the stove or the one in my truck. Go figure. 

As Ever,

TWC