The Wine Commonsewer™

Vin Vault Cabernet Sauvignon

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Vin Vault is Gallo's recent entry into the three liter box wine competition and it's not bad. TWC is not against box wine in the way he abhors screw-cap wine closures. Obviously God had a plan when he planted all of those cork oak trees in Portugal, so stop it.

There isn't any good reason why everyday drinking wine cannot come out of a box. Bonus: Box wine stays good for a month, which is three weeks longer than it needs to last. Granted, bottles are cooler and there is a bit of ceremony in pulling a cork. OTOH, the Greenies among us are pleased that boxes are marginally more environmentally friendly than bottles. Speaking of that, at one time crushed glass was used for roadbeds. Wonder if that's still the case. 

Unfortunately, Vin Vault violates TWC rule number 31. The kitsch rule. Generally, the cool factor or kitsch of the label is inversely proportional to the quality of the wine. This is not always true (see Plungerhead) but it is a good working rule.

My initial impression was that this wine was a dry, straight-up, medium bodied wine that was not fruit driven. However, it exhibits just enough of cloying sweetness masquerading as cherries to put me off. Historically, that is a mark of cheap, mass marketed Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot. To be fair, it isn't overwhelming in the way that it once was with inexpensive Chilean Cabernet, but, here's the thing, my taste buds are firing on all eight cylinders. And my sense of smell is in the 99th percentile, which can be a blessing or a curse depending upon whether I'm strolling past a Porta Potty or Plumeria. It's there. TWC can smell it and taste it. :-(

Will you like it, Gentle Reader? It is not bad for a Tuesday night wine with pizza or pasta and the price is right. However, in a head-to-head competition, I might opt for Black Box.

As Always,

The House Blond Turns 17.....where's her birthday hat at?

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

My Renaissance Girl is a senior in high school and the mailbox is filled with glossy solicitations from colleges and universities across the country. I swear, those boys, spend enough on printing and mailing that they could give my kid a free ride for a semester. Plenty of that interest is due to the girl's 4.67 GPA. She don't like me to say so, but there's a thousand kids in her senior class and she, along with a handful of others, are at the pinnacle of achievement, academically.

That girl can run three miles faster than I can walk one. In addition to her scholar athlete and MVP award, she set a school record in the 800 last year.

That's us on 4th of July in Tubac Arizona.

And she can shoot.

And you can dress her up.

Sunset At the Red Sand Beach

Wakeboarding

Some years ago I titled a post commemorating The House Blond's birthday this way....

The House Blond Turns Eleven (Where's Her Birthday Hat At?)

Several grammar cops took me to task over it, which means they didn't even bother to read the post, or they would have gotten the context.

The day Katie was born was the first time The Boy and I shared a meal together. Once we settled into the booth he looked across the table at me and asked it it was Katie's birthday. I responded that it was, and he then said to me:

If it's Katie's birthday, where's her birthday hat at?

As Always

How Hot Was It?

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

TWC had to go down the hill yesterday for a brief business meeting in HELL. It was 106 in the left turn lane on Temescal Canyon Road. A mile back, in El Cerrito, it was 108 where the Green Cross store used to be. No, pot stores don't go broke, the county ran them off.

Gonna be as bad today, but I'll be working in my office downstairs, which is cooled by refrigeration.

I dragged my sorry backside out of bed this morning at 5:30 AM and the mercury was indicating almost 80 degrees. Just now (8:00 AM) it's pushing 88 deck-level degrees here at Casa de las Rocas Grandes.

For most of the country, Labor Day signifies the onset of autumn. Or at least the promise of autumn-soon-to-be. Here in the southern part of the Golden Fleece State, Labor Day is somewhat more predictable than Groundhog Day in that we can count on at least four more weeks of summer. Maybe six. The kicker is that September is quite often the hottest month of the year. 

To paraphrase Mark Twain, the coldest winter I ever spent was five weeks of dreary, dank, foggy, sopping June Gloom in So Cal. Summer doesn't get rolling around here until 4th of July. I guess that's the trade off. June for September. 

Freeway Motel Photo Credit: The Roadside Gallery

White Wine After Labor Day?

Good Morning Gentle Readers,

Good Lord! It's just not done.

Please note the immortal words of Christopher Hitchens: Wine. Is. Red.

And, Gentle Readers, always remember this: lips that touch white wine shall never touch mine.

That's been a solid TWC schtick for thirty years, yet as I write this a nagging, moderately obnoxious voice somewhere back in my head is asking if this might be insulting or offensive. It occurs to me that a Chardonnay lover who hadn't heard Charlie Wagner's advice about a wine that doesn't suit your palate not being your wine might be a bit miffed. [shrugs]

Certainly, we do live in a sensitive era. An era where taking offense has been elevated to an art form. Perhaps I could sooth this castor oil-ish proclamation a bit by noting that a lovely white wine is just perfect for sautéing mushrooms.

Photo Credit: Unknown

As Always,