Thursday, December 25, 2008
Here's a very profound way to describe my very full heart today:
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Regardless, I've noticed a sharp increase in the number of bottles of Torrontés on the shelves at better wine stores (haven't seen it in the cooler at the Quiktrip yet). This grape produces a highly perfumed, medium-bodied white wine. It's really got one of the best noses (i.e. aromas) of any white wine I've ever tried. I almost always get the peaches, honeysuckle, and flowers that are often noted in better-known white varietals like Gewurztraminer and Viognier (once again, I'll spotlight these other favorites later). But, more than anything else, Torrontés to me has an amazing aroma of the canned, mandarin oranges you always loved as a kid. On the palette, the wine is usually surprisingly dry; after smelling it, you expect it to be sweet and fruity. Usually, there are subtle flavors of citrus and peaches (to me). However, unlike a citrusy Sauvignon Blanc, this wine tends to have a much fuller, silkier mouthfeel. It would pair very well with any sort of grilled fish, chinese food, or Krystal burgers, if in a pinch.
One of the best things about Torrontés is that it's still really affordable. While you might pay $30 for a decent California Chardonnay, or hundreds for a notable White Burgundy (aka French Chardonnay), Argentinian Torrontés will only set you back about $10-15. Some easy-to-find ones are Crios Susana Balbo (sorry, couldn't find a website) and Alamos.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Unfortunately, I over-tasted and cannot come up with anything good to say today. The Falcons won, so that's cool, but too lazy to talk about that too. Wine tasting details coming soon, but in the meantime, watch this:
Friday, December 12, 2008
Go ahead and rock out...you deserve it!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
[lame and snooty] = gay
So, to bring it down to Earth a bit- this site IS about spitting in the eye of snootiness anyway- here's Rob, aka, "leader of the bar" doing some football cheers. Watch out: he's going to be famous someday. Just think of him as a skinny Artie Lange, but more obnoxious, in a good way.
The Fitz fires up Tempe, AZ
Today, I get a picture of the corned beef sandwich above. You guessed it: that jackass is in New York City. I think I ate an El Pollo Loco burrito for lunch. Not bad (quite delicious, really), but certainly not the perfection that is a NYC Corned Beef. I told him not to choke on it.
However, the picture of the sandwich did more than make me jealous. It reminded me of a very funny and intuitive article my sister wrote about sandwiches (or "samiches", as she calls them). Check it out HERE
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
However, as tempting as all the turquoise and silver were, we were delighted to find a wine tasting bar. The place was called The Art of Wine, and the guy who helped us out was very friendly (can't think of the name). The wines, to our surprise, were all produced locally, that is, in Arizona. Not exactly the cooler climate associated with many classic varietals. However, we were willing to give it a try...there's some decent wine in Georgia, so why not?
The first few we tried...well, they sucked. I'm not trying to protect the names; I just can't think of them. They tasted how you would expect grapes grown in such a hot climate would taste: overripe, unbalanced, with not enough acidity or structure. They were trying Rhone grapes here, but the Syrah didn't have the finesse or structure of some of France or California wines. In fact, I recall one wine being so ripe, it literally smelled like my trashcan...just a rotten-vegetable, sickly-sweet decay smell. You know the one if you've ever spent some of your less fortunate years sleeping in a dumpster.
However, I did come across a couple wines that were pretty damn good. The best was Sycamore Canyon Private Reserve Merlot. It was well-structured, powerful wine, and seemed like I could lay it down for a while to age. However, at $40, it was hardly a bargain, and I probably just bought it as an act of tourism. Furthermore, it did not have a vintage year on the label.
But, I couldn't at first figure out why these two stood out so clearly. Then, I took a look at the labels, some more closely than others. These two best wines were actually only produced in Arizona (Cornville, Arizona, to be exact), but the grapes were sourced out of Paso Robles, CA. Had we been utterly bamboozled?
-I'm really glad I got to say "bamboozled"...underused word-
Nah. The labels were pretty clear, and I think the idea is that there are people out there who really want to craft something great, but just don't have the resources to do so. Hell, I like to make my own beer, but I assure you the climate in Georgia is not conducive to growing hops and barley. I can't even grown my lawn.
So, Arizona may not be the next Napa just yet, but one has to appreciate a state without the perfect climate of a California, Oregon, or Washington making an effort to make good wine. I'm sure they'll get there eventually...just go into your Arizona wine-tasting adventure with an open mind and an appreciation for how truly blessed- with unique terroir, great vines, perfect climate, and masterful work of the winemaker- a great wine really is.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The latter, being particularly hardcore in the food porn pantheon, features chef Andrew Zimmern traveling around the world, eating the inward meats, nether regions, and [ahem] poop chutes of various woodland creatures. However, the reasoning makes not just good tellie; it presents a rather profound point. Who's to say that eating Taco Bell (commonplace in the States, i.e. "me") is any more revolting than chomping down on a plate of cold, pickled chicken feet; as completely commonplace as fast food in other cultures?
So, being the shameless boob that I am, I thought I'd buy into the aforementioned argument. Yep, that's me at a Dim Sum house in Chinatown, San Francisco, munching down on cold, pickled chicken feet. Closest way to describe it: eating cold, pickled chicken feet. What else can I say? Rubbery, gelatinous cartiledge wrapped around tiny bones. To it's credit, it tasted like chicken.
Surprisingly, I ate about 6 more of them before I threw in the towel. Not my speed, but I feel more worldly now...
...and I bet I would try them again if they were deep-fried- and I were drunk.
Monday, December 8, 2008
I was on a roll with something about Christmas-time hangovers, and then I realize my creativity and mastery of the English language had been stymied by...Christmas-time hangovers. I was going to discuss the delicious wines I sipped, nay, guzzled over the weekend. Unfortunately, "guzzling" almost always leads to something shitty; in this case, journalism. How does that lovable drunk Bourdain do it?
So, watch this until I can think of something better. The guy who dubbed over this video is a genius who obviously put in more time than I did this post (gimme a break! At least I posted something this month!):
EDDIE VAN HALEN SHREDS! (this is too funny)