Measured by Glass
(Note: I may be drunk, but I'm a shitty typist, drunk or sober, and in respite to my occupation, I don't proofread bloggy. It's all fuckin' STRAIGT UP hardcore typos.)
A few weeks ago, our my brother and his girlfriend and our friend Todd came over for dinner. Todd brought along two bottles of red wine, and I could tell they were good ones. "Good" wine to me is, like, a bottle that coasts over $20 bucks. Back when I was in cooking school, I was really into good wines. Kick-ass wines were part of our tuition, actually, so once I got into the real world and had to pony up the the cash at the register of the wine shop on the wadge of a part-time catering worker, my passion for fine wines cooled. There are plenty of drinkable wines out there for under$10 (2 Buck Chuck is always drinkable, rarely enjoyable), but I'm prettyy convinced that you gotta put down a 20-spot--at least--to have some of your socks knocked off.
After that dinner, there was still one bottle of wine left. *That* was the one I wanted to drink most, and I figured it made sense to save it (1999 Mount Veeder Cab, if that means anything to you--not like it does to me, but it was the older of the two wines Todd brought) for later in the meal...but we had a few beer and water drinkers with us, so the Mount Veeder was never cracked open. Todd very generously left it with us.
This bottle of wine had been hanging out with us for two weeks. Every night I considered cracking it open. "We're having meatloaf tonight, it'll be perfect" (no, it wouldn't)..."I'm going to write tonight, the wine will make it better" (no, it wont'; I'll fall asleep at 9:45 and write nothing).
Tonight I gave in. Mr. Bir Toujour is at band practice, leaving me on my own to stew in created juices. Or get potted, or both. Even though I went to the grocry store just yesterday, we have no food. I wound up cooking 1/2 pound of linguine and tossing it with tinned marinara sauce, diced pepperoni, bell peppers, onion, and mushrooms. The whole works was dumped into the cast-iron skillet, piled with the remaining contents of a bag of pre-shredded mozerella cheese, and baked at, like, 450 degrees for 10 minutes. "This calls for red wine!" Pasta, whatever. What an escuse.
Anyhoo, this wine rocks. I'm going to drink as much as I can until I pass out. Usually I dont care for Cabernet Sauvignon, but this is nice. Good, real good, a big berry punch followed by tannic grip, a quick burst of acid, and...ahh, I dunno. There's an arc of wine. Mine lasts about three glasses. If I'm drinking good wine, the third glass is the glass of clarity, where all of its charecteristics reveal themselves so clearly. The third glass makes you feel smart, perceptive, classy. The fourth glass...well, at that point, good wine tastes good. Mediocre wine tastes fine. "Woo-hoo, bring on more wine!" That's the prevailing thought.
In my cooking school days, I drank a lot--for me. I bought Tanqueray in the big bottle with the handle because it was cheaper. If I was drinking wine, it meant a *bottle * of wine. Probably 50% of my petty expenses were devoted to alcohol. I miss those days, days of Lillet on ice with an orange slice in the middle of the day. Always a bottle of Lillet in the mini-refrigerator in the dorm room. It's like the snobby version of a frat boy and his Bud Lite. I smoked, too, rolled my own Drum tobacco. Smoked and drank. All during cooking school, I lived off of coffee, cigarettes, beer, wine, gin, and butter. I probably burned 5,000 calories a day, too, which I sure as hell don't do now. I also banged out some pretty shitty drunk meanderings on my Royal typewriter. For a while, I tried to master the art of drinking, smoking, and typing simultaniosly. It didn't work--soggy cigarettes, sloppy dribbles of red wine or gin & tonics all over the tying paper, drunken poseur crap porose about being horny and pissed--but it was fun.
I have a laptop now. That and a bottle of red wine 3/4 empty. About half an hour ago, I tried to pour myself another glass, and I wound up pouring it into the cobalt blue water goblet. Realizing the mistake, I dumped the whole backwash-tainted mess intoy wine glass. Tonight, it's just me, the wine, the laptop, OMD, and bloggy. Criminy, how life has changed.
A few weeks ago, our my brother and his girlfriend and our friend Todd came over for dinner. Todd brought along two bottles of red wine, and I could tell they were good ones. "Good" wine to me is, like, a bottle that coasts over $20 bucks. Back when I was in cooking school, I was really into good wines. Kick-ass wines were part of our tuition, actually, so once I got into the real world and had to pony up the the cash at the register of the wine shop on the wadge of a part-time catering worker, my passion for fine wines cooled. There are plenty of drinkable wines out there for under$10 (2 Buck Chuck is always drinkable, rarely enjoyable), but I'm prettyy convinced that you gotta put down a 20-spot--at least--to have some of your socks knocked off.
After that dinner, there was still one bottle of wine left. *That* was the one I wanted to drink most, and I figured it made sense to save it (1999 Mount Veeder Cab, if that means anything to you--not like it does to me, but it was the older of the two wines Todd brought) for later in the meal...but we had a few beer and water drinkers with us, so the Mount Veeder was never cracked open. Todd very generously left it with us.
This bottle of wine had been hanging out with us for two weeks. Every night I considered cracking it open. "We're having meatloaf tonight, it'll be perfect" (no, it wouldn't)..."I'm going to write tonight, the wine will make it better" (no, it wont'; I'll fall asleep at 9:45 and write nothing).
Tonight I gave in. Mr. Bir Toujour is at band practice, leaving me on my own to stew in created juices. Or get potted, or both. Even though I went to the grocry store just yesterday, we have no food. I wound up cooking 1/2 pound of linguine and tossing it with tinned marinara sauce, diced pepperoni, bell peppers, onion, and mushrooms. The whole works was dumped into the cast-iron skillet, piled with the remaining contents of a bag of pre-shredded mozerella cheese, and baked at, like, 450 degrees for 10 minutes. "This calls for red wine!" Pasta, whatever. What an escuse.
Anyhoo, this wine rocks. I'm going to drink as much as I can until I pass out. Usually I dont care for Cabernet Sauvignon, but this is nice. Good, real good, a big berry punch followed by tannic grip, a quick burst of acid, and...ahh, I dunno. There's an arc of wine. Mine lasts about three glasses. If I'm drinking good wine, the third glass is the glass of clarity, where all of its charecteristics reveal themselves so clearly. The third glass makes you feel smart, perceptive, classy. The fourth glass...well, at that point, good wine tastes good. Mediocre wine tastes fine. "Woo-hoo, bring on more wine!" That's the prevailing thought.
In my cooking school days, I drank a lot--for me. I bought Tanqueray in the big bottle with the handle because it was cheaper. If I was drinking wine, it meant a *bottle * of wine. Probably 50% of my petty expenses were devoted to alcohol. I miss those days, days of Lillet on ice with an orange slice in the middle of the day. Always a bottle of Lillet in the mini-refrigerator in the dorm room. It's like the snobby version of a frat boy and his Bud Lite. I smoked, too, rolled my own Drum tobacco. Smoked and drank. All during cooking school, I lived off of coffee, cigarettes, beer, wine, gin, and butter. I probably burned 5,000 calories a day, too, which I sure as hell don't do now. I also banged out some pretty shitty drunk meanderings on my Royal typewriter. For a while, I tried to master the art of drinking, smoking, and typing simultaniosly. It didn't work--soggy cigarettes, sloppy dribbles of red wine or gin & tonics all over the tying paper, drunken poseur crap porose about being horny and pissed--but it was fun.
I have a laptop now. That and a bottle of red wine 3/4 empty. About half an hour ago, I tried to pour myself another glass, and I wound up pouring it into the cobalt blue water goblet. Realizing the mistake, I dumped the whole backwash-tainted mess intoy wine glass. Tonight, it's just me, the wine, the laptop, OMD, and bloggy. Criminy, how life has changed.
posted by Lefty at 9:23 PM
3 Comments:
i did not even read it. I am busy doing other stuff.
dude. Leave Sara alone. Go and do some actual work on your own blog or something..
dude. Leave Sara alone. Go and do some actual work on your own blog or something..
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