One night last week, I awoke at 3:30 a.m. to the sound of my elderly dog maniacally running around downstairs. She’s good at letting us know when she needs to be let out in the night and I assumed that it was no more complicated than that. In fact, despite being quite deaf, she knew that there was a skunk in the yard and her previous altercations with those striped bastards hadn’t successfully dissuaded her from making conspicuous attempts on their lives.
Hell - there’s volcanos on my mind, and I don’t usually spend much time on this geophysical phenomena (oh, sure I do - who can resist the allure of "liquid, hot magma"?). Current news of the devastation suffered by people in Hawaii is hard to not feel, as for anyone suffering a natural disaster. Volcanos are just another manifestation of the power of Nature, and we can only view it with awe as humbled humans faced with things that money, politics and faith have no power to change or prevent.
Terroir is a lovely French word that can be applied to wine, cheese, honey and other natural products when they demonstrate what wine-writer Matt Kramer aptly refers to as “a sense of somewhereness.” It should encompass a multiplicity of influencing factors of the product’s origin, even if when regarding wine it’s often exclusively if erroneously in reference to soil type.
Let’s get this out of the way; I love Spaceballs. I have seen it several hundred times, wearing out my BetaMax version while I commit to memory every gag and bit contained within its 90 minutes.
I tell you this somewhat jarring nugget of information not as an insight into a peculiar childhood obsession, but to emphasize a point about something I know very well. However, I still find something new every time I re-watch it.
Last night, Sticky and I attended a screening of Orsen Welles’ Touch of Evil which was stunning on the big screen. It’s a delight to watch a particularly corpulent Welles stumble about in this darkest of noir and the film precedes Psycho by two years as an example of how things can go south when Janet Leigh checks into a motel room. It was amidst this backdrop that we were unexpectedly mesmerized by an amazing backpack bottle of Mondeuse from André and Michel Quenard.
This idea struck last week when a co-worker and I were naming our favourite wines in the shop for a certain price point. Under $30, under $50, etc. As we contemplated the best rapport qualité prix, or best value for price wines in the shop, I started to realize how many of them I’ve personally stashed away.
As I smash these words into the keyboard, my dreams of springtime are shattered by legions of snowflakes that have long since lost their aesthetic appeal. Like me, readers who are denizens of Calgary probably have some justification for living here, but as this most oppressive of winters mercilessly perpetuates itself these reasons become increasingly elusive. (Unless you have a passion for snow removal… in which case you’re a pervert).
When is a “critter wine” not a “critter wine”? This widely used term often speaks of the bouncing image and name to be found on some mass-produced wines.
Far from being a “critter wine”, the misleadingly named Perro Chico (Spanish for “little dog”) is actually named after a local variety of mushroom found in the region of Somontano. Not a dog to be found on the label (or in the bottle)!
