My Liquid Travel Agent
Despite drinking an excellent bottle of Mosel wine, I had my usual difficulty courting sleep last night. I tossed and turned for a minor eternity, seeking the elusive cool patch on the pillow and rearranging flaccid cat bodies. At long last, with morning looming nearby, I found myself in a verdant dreamscape.
They're Coming For You, Barbera
So Few Want to be Rebels Anymore
One day when the weather was more humane and the bike paths clear of snow, I pedalled past stationary railcars emblazoned with the provocative statement, "So Few Want to be Rebels Anymore". I was already thinking about wine, and the defaced train units catalyzed another deliberation upon what we now colloquially refer to as “natural wine”.
Hommage
Authenticity is a slippery eel. How to spot it when you think it shows up? Sadly, in 2020, with terms like “fake news” and “alternative facts” currently in vogue, we must remember that the thing called “news” was once professionally researched and facts were, well… facts. Now, the world is seemingly a vast Sargasso Sea of eels…
Behind The Art of Eating
In November, 1986, Ed Behr released the first issue of the Art of Eating. Ever since, the publication has been a tireless authority on flavour, and few familiar with Ed’s work would deny that he’s among the most important living food writers. An equally true claim is that he’s also one of the world’s most thoughtful and insightful wine writers.
Just a Bunch of Misfits
October is a meaningful month for us, and not just because wine tastes particularly vivid or because we love Halloween. 24 Octobers ago, Richard and Michelle opened the doors to Metrovino, altering the city, and their lives, forever. I was only 14 at the time and had no interest in wine, but in the same month and quite possibly the same day, my life was to be permanently changed as well.
You're Already Part of the Club
The Bicycle Thief
I was out of town for the weekend when I received the heartbreaking news. My friend and colleague, Sarah, had been involuntarily relieved of her beloved bicycle. It was a true rarity; a beautiful purple Nishiki, probably 40-years-old but seemingly ageless. Little by little, Sarah customized it to her own specifications, in the process managing to improve a bicycle that was immaculate from the outset… And then somebody stole it.
A Midsummer's Nightmare
Summer sleep is a rare phenomenon. And even when its reticence abates, its utility is questionable. How unfairly weighted the seasons are when the same one offers us the most tantalizing mornings, the most sublime evenings, the sultriest afternoons and the most gravid nights. The audacity of the cliché, I'll sleep when I'm dead, could be agreeably rationalized by the proposal, I'll sleep in the winter, one taking full advantage of summer’s potential in the meantime.
