Tag Wine

Jelly Beans for Olives

Michael 12 Comments

For the last month in two, the weather here has been inconsistent, more warm and dry than cool and rainy (odd), but during that time, the weekends have been beautiful (very odd), except for this past weekend when being outdoors was a requirement of the day (par for the course).

Saturday, I had a meeting out of town, far out of town, requiring driving on interstate highways in the dark, in the rain. Highway drive is tolerable in the dark, tolerable in the rain, knuckle whitening scary in both. Sigh.

Sunday, the daughter and boyfriend ran the Pittsburgh Marathon (half marathon version) in morning rain and chill after weeks and weeks of training on dry pavement under sunny skies. Sigh

Something about this weekend reminded me of another spring weekend I wrote about. It took me a while to find it, but I did and I re-present it here from 7 years ago. If you read it then, humor me and give it another go.

From April 17, 2017, ‘Tis the Season, Spring Edition:

I’m pretty sure I should have been born the son of an Italian wine maker. Or perhaps an olive grower. I could see myself spending Sunday afternoons on a rough stone terrazza nibbling on marinated olives and peppers and artichoke hearts sipping a glass of wine, listening to Old World folk songs and letting the sun warm me where the wine doesn’t. Ahhhhhhhh.

Instead I have jelly beans and a leftover beer I found waaaaay back in the fridge, trying to find a spot somewhere on the 4×8 patio that is out of the wind driven rain storm, hoping the next lightning bolt stays waaaaay on the other side of that hill over there.

BOCThat’s all on me though. I couldn’t pick where I was born but I could have moved if I really wanted to. I chose to stay in the only city in America with less sunshine than Seattle. (That’s what I’ve been told. I didn’t believe it so I looked it up and they were WRONG! That particular proverbially always rain-logged Washington hamlet actually has less sun than my burgh but just barely, coming in at Number Nine of the Top Ten Cloudy Hit Parade with a 57% chance of clouds compared to our 56%. What is the number one least sunny city in the US? Juneau, Alaska. Sorry Land of the Midnight Sun dwellers. Apparently that’s not enough for the midday darkness the rest of the year.) Where was I? Oh, yeah. I stayed.

I chose to stay here where the chance of pressing my own olive oil is somewhere around the chance of me removing my own appendix. Wine making might have a little advantage, but still it’s not likely I’ll be trading in the Miata for an Alpha Romeo and riding it along a strada panoramica overlooking the Baia di Napoli. I’ll just have to keep an eye on the morning forecasts and pick those choice hours when the sun will come out and the top will go down and the drive will be just as scenic. Even if it is of the access road leading to the 27th worst commuter road in the country. And we do better than Seattle there, too. (They have the 8th worst commute. Sorry.

Thank God I don’t have to go to work in either city. More time for olives and wine. Or jelly beans and beer. Happy Spring!

There is always room on the calendar for special days. We found a few extra ways to celebrate everyone among the special days. Check them out on Uplift!

Aw, Quit Your Wining

Michael 8 Comments

You can pretty much always find a bottle of white wine and one of Prosecco in my refrigerator. Which is really a shame when you think about it because not only should they not be committed to the same temperature, neither temperature that either should be chilled to is what a kitchen refrigerator is kept at. I used to have that handled by way of a stand-alone wine refrigerator that could handle different temperatures in different zones for different wines. Two refrigerators in fact. But those days are over.

Some of you let that pass right on by. Some noticed but didn’t notice. Some are just now wondering in almost 700 posts I’ve never given any indication of being a garden variety sot. Why so much wine? It actually isn’t a mystery of so much wine as so many refrigerators. Let me explain. If I can.

Many years ago I saw this really nice counter top wine refrigerator for some ridiculously cheap price in a remainder store. (Tuesday Morning actually if you have one of them near you. You can check them out or not. I get nothing for mentioning them. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure why I mentioned them. Anyway…) I looked it over and decided it would sit nicely on the bar in the family room of my old house.

This was all going on during my wine phase. I would go to the local winery every other week and always would bring something back. There were trips to the Erie and Niagara wine trails. I would explore the neighborhood wine shop for an interesting find. (By the way, one of my favorite methods for selecting new wines was the look of the label. I said I was in a wine phase, not that I had become a wine expert.) (Wait. What was I saying? Oh, right. Labels. It was by that very method that I discovered Plungerhead Lodi, a respectable old vine zinfandel.) (I don’t get anything from them either.) (Don’t worry, that didn’t go into the refrigerator. I’m not that much of a Neanderthal!)

Since I was also in a phase where I had to go overboard with everything, I had to have a separate refrigerator for wine. It couldn’t go in the beer refrigerator. The optimal temperatures for beer and wine are nothing alike. And I was in a wine phase. I needed that wine chiller. And by all that was alcoholic, I got that wine chiller. So shortly after I spotted it, the countertop wine cooler was in the back of the car and we were heading home.

Now that worked well for a time then I noticed a problem. The bar and its counter, upon which sat the countertop refrigerator, were in the family room in the lower level of the house. A reasonable place to watch hockey and drink beer. But not wine. Wine was had with dinner, after dinner, in the evening on the patio, and occasionally in the hot tub, all upper level activities.  I decided that if I drank wine upstairs I had to store it upstairs. Suddenly the cute little wine refrigerator sitting so neatly on the corner of the bar was inconvenient. I had to correct that. And since I was making more money than sense, I couldn’t just move the one I had.

WineCoolerSo it was back on the hunt. In fact, it was back to Tuesday Morning (who still isn’t giving me anything for mentioning them, the nerve!), where I found an upright wine refrigerator with two zones, each one’s temperature individually controlled so you could keep different wines at their own optimal temps. (I was getting better in this wine phase thingy.) Of course I had to have it, so it came home with me and went into the sun room on the upper level where after dinner drinking and near where during dinner drinking and on patio drinking and drunken hot tubing drinking happened. Yet all the while the cute little counter top wine cooler continued to cool wine on top of the counter on the bar just in case I had the urge to raise a Riesling while watching hockey on the big screen. And all was right with the world. For several years actually.

But then I moved and the new place doesn’t have an upstairs or a downstairs or a dining room or even a hot tub. I really wanted somebody in the family to take custody of one or the other of the wine refrigerators but my sisters already had their version and my daughter didn’t have room.  So both refrigerators were sold and less was right with the world for now I have to keep my Prosecco chilling next to the orange juice.

But that really isn’t such a bad thing since most Sunday mornings they get together anyway. Well, I still have a patio.

‘Tis the Season, Spring 2017 Edition

Michael 4 Comments

I’m pretty sure I should have been born the son of an Italian wine maker. Or perhaps an olive grower. I could see myself spending Sunday afternoons on a rough stone terrazza nibbling on marinated olives and peppers and artichoke hearts sipping a glass of wine, listening to Old World folk songs and letting the sun warm me where the wine doesn’t. Ahhhhhhhh.

Instead I have jelly beans and a leftover beer I found waaaaay back in the fridge, trying to find a spot somewhere on the 4×8 patio that is out of the wind driven rain storm, hoping the next lightning bolt stays waaaaay on the other side of that hill over there.BOC

That’s all on me though. I couldn’t pick where I was born but I could have moved if I really wanted to. I chose to stay in the only city in America with less sunshine than Seattle. (That’s what I’ve been told. I didn’t believe it so I looked it up and they were WRONG! That particular proverbially always rain-logged Washington hamlet actually has less sun than my burgh but just barely, coming in at Number Nine of the Top Ten Cloudy Hit Parade with a 57% chance of clouds compared to our 56%. What is the number one least sunny city in the US? Juneau, Alaska. Sorry Land of the Midnight Sun dwellers. Apparently that’s not enough for the midday darkness the rest of the year.) Where was I? Oh, yeah. I stayed.

I chose to stay here where the chance of pressing my own olive oil is somewhere around the chance of me removing my own appendix. Wine making might have a little advantage, but still it’s not likely I’ll be trading in the Miata for an Alpha Romeo and riding it along a strada panoramica overlooking the Baia di Napoli. I’ll just have to keep an eye on the morning forecasts and pick those choice hours when the sun will come out and the top will go down and the drive will be just as scenic. Even if it is of the access road leading to the 27th worst commuter road in the country. And we do better than Seattle there, too. (They have the 8th worst commute. Sorry.)

Thank God I don’t have to go to work in either city. More time for olives and wine. Or jelly beans and beer. Happy Spring!

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

Children of the Candy Corn

Michael 2 Comments

Listen up everyone.  Today, as is October 30 of every year, is National Candy Corn Day!  And you thought you had to wait for the last day of the month for the only good holiday in October.

Candy corn is good stuff.  Butter, sugar, honey.  What more could you ask for?  Add some food coloring and a little more than an hour of your time and you have the ultimate fall candy.  Better still, hop on down to the grocery store and buy packs of the stuff in a little more than a minute.

Some of you reading this might remember making or getting home made candy and treats for Halloween.  Candy corn, candied apples, fudges, cookies, popcorn balls, and gooey nut clusters were classics where kids would memorize the houses for year to year gratification.  Then some psychopath decided it was a good idea to stick razor blades in apples and now all any self-respecting parent will let a child keep is whatever comes sealed by the manufacturer.

Today if you want home made you better hope that a very generous soul invites you to his or her (or their) house party. Or, bring back the traditions and make your own for your own.  Nothing wrong with that.  And you control the ingredients.  Perhaps a splash of rum added to the popcorn balls’ caramel paste or some bourbon infused marshmallows to hold the nut clusters together.  Maybe bobbing for apples in a barrel of Riesling.  Now that’s a party!

But back to the candy corn.  Yes it’s fall and yes the ultimate is chowing down on those little kernels usually before they even hit the candy dish.  But there is so much more one can do with these a-maize-ing treats.  Sprinkle them on your cupcakes like, well like sprinkles.  Let them play with your cereals either in your Rice Krispy treats or Chex mixes.  Add them to a batch of chocolate chip cookies.  Mix them with the peanuts before adding that whole kit and caboodle to popcorn and caramel for an even sweeter popcorn ball.

And finally, three words that will serve you well for the entire fall season:  Candy Corn and Prosecco.  It doesn’t get any better than that.

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

 

Careful Wishing

Michael Leave a comment

There is a place we’ve been going to for years and we still can’t describe it.  It’s actually a winery with a tasting room and bottles of their own stuff lining the wall to sale or build into gift baskets.  But it’s also a gift shop, maybe even approaching emporium with all the usual cute but questionable gifts that go with wine.  You know, the t-shirt with the picture of the corkscrew and the legend, “Screw this.”  It’s a picnic grove, a banquet hall, a wine bar.

But it’s also a restaurant.  One that has expanded a couple of times over the years that we’ve been going there.  It’s always had the exceptionally talented local performers grace its outdoor seating area or dining room.  The singers sing soft tunes perfectly matched to a light lunch on a patio in the European countryside.  Except for it not being in Europe, it’s always been a pretty good place to go.  They have good food, good wine, good entertainment.  What more could you want on a summer afternoon?

Yesterday we found out.  We hadn’t been there since last season and we knew they made more changes.  They added another indoor seating area expanding it to challenge a full scale restaurant.  And the outside patio had a new small stage for the singers.  Our favorite was there – in fact he was what brought us there the first time we visited this site – and we were looking forward to a fruit and cheese platter, a crisp Riesling, and a few hours of first rate solo entertainment.

We should have known things changed for other than the best as we approached the hostess stand and 4 young girls were huddled around it.  They seemed somewhat confused whether there were or not any outside tables available and we were advised to wander the gift shot while they found one.  No problem, we’d get a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses and hang out in the grassy area flanking their pavilion.  But no sooner had we gotten the wine paid for that Hostess #1 was at our sides with a table ready.  We left the plastic cups meant for perimeter use and headed to our table.  After 10 minutes of staring at our open bottle of wine, which He of We seriously considered guzzling from, a waitress finally appeared with real glasses and a promise to bring us a wine chiller for our bottle and to take our order.

To make a long story short, we were left unattended then for not the first time that afternoon and for long periods.  We were served a delicious salad on a plate that never made it through the dishwasher after its previous use.  We sat with empty water glasses in 85 degree heat.  We were left with dirty plates on our table from two courses.  And we never got the bottle chiller until the second bottle. (Actually we rarely order a second bottle but we were on a quest to see if there really was ice inside the building our waitress kept disappearing to.)

We wondered if we had brought this on.  When we first started going there it was very small, just a handful of tables outside the tasting room and the talent perched under a large umbrella.  We said many times in those early years that we wished the owners good luck trying to create a destination out of their little winery so more people could enjoy it.  We should have taken that old advice, be careful what you wish for.

As always, the entertainment was top notch.  But we can always find our favorite singer at other venues.  The food was very good.  But not incomparable.  The atmosphere was charming, but not unmatched. 

New this time around, the service sucked.  And that’s why we’ll question ever going there again.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?