Why we like some things

We sauntered into our favorite WineShop the other day to see what was going on at the tasting Saturday (today) and just to chat a bit.  The store has the friendly ambiance of a country general store where everyone seems to know everyone else and all are free and easy with the conversations.  Good stores are like that. Very good stores are like this one.

Seems there is a pretty darn good Chardonnay on the horizon for this afternoon and we were talking about it, or we were listening to one of the staff tell us that she was putting out something exception for us to sample.  That was enough for us.

When a few people gather for a friendly interchange others who come by often feel encouraged to join in on the subject. Pretty soon there is a crowd.

The discussion got pretty informative, all about the taste and strength of the oak barrel taste, and when it's right, it has a very special, easy quality, with a balance of ripe fruit, oak, lemon and other citrus fruits. It can fill your mouth with a kind of warm glow that lasts a very long time, leaving your throat coated with a rich, sometimes buttery intensity.....; well as you can see the language gets pretty flowery and zip right over the head of some of us who "just know what we like".

But isn't that the rub of it? The affectionados of the discussion crowd liked chardonnay for reasons that they worked out that satisfy them - and all that "buttery" talk was right on point and meant a great deal in their minds. Good for them. Really.  They go about it different and we admire that.  They consider the wine as a food group, a complex sauce so to speak, and approach it on a whole aesthetic level that is, to them, a very satisfying intellectual and analytical approach. 

Others, like us, listen to a very knowledgeable person who we enjoy and admire, who says "this is really really good and one of the best that I know of" and we trot off to the cash register to buy it.  We liked it before we got home to try it with fruit and cheese before dinner.  We liked it because someone we like took great satisfaction in recommending it to us.

We, and the affectionados, left the store equally happy and looking forward to what we bought albeit on a different set of levels. That is why we like some things; the store, the owner and, sometimes incidentally, the wine.

Craaazzzzeeee

Every once in a blue moon we work our way up and down the display aisles dusting every bottle, turning all the labels back to facing forward, putting all the necks in alignment, front to back, side to side, spaced perfectly, not a hair out of place; just so. JUST SO.

It leaves us in something of an altered state of mind.  Just letting you know in case we act a little wierd for a few hours.

It wears off.  Honest.

Morning Fog

We wandered downtown this morning and were greeted by dense fog that in a miracle of physics and sunlight, evaporated before my eyes - literally in minutes if not seconds. We learned the difference between fog and mist from one of our customers (it is based on visibility being less than 1/2 a mile or kilometer or something) and it gave us some inspiration for our tasting.

Back in the 1950s there was a television show that had, as part of the opening sequence, a scene along the docks in San Francisco - famous for its fog. Of course the TV was black and white so all things were basically shades of grey but the image is pretty vivid still, half a century plus later.  The show was after Paladin and Gunsmoke and Broderick Crawford in Highway Patrol....stuck in there somewhere.

When down at the docks with the sun finally burning off the fog, a man and his son were standing, fishing poles in hand ready to get into that little boat and venture out a bit in search of whatever is passing through the bay at this time of year. They had to wait until they could see for reasons of safety alone but all of us, at one time or another, have been out in the clear and had the fog descend or rise - whatever the case - and cut us off from our surroundings.  The father did a great job of explaining fog but to an eight year old, the science was lost in the misery of not being able to fish as he was sure they were there and lunkers to boot.

See you on Saturday.

Things are moving just under the surface

A couple days of glorious spring and out brains turn toward the water - the Peconic Bay coming to life - folks embracing the sun like a favorite relative.  The surface of the water might as well be a blanket under which we can't see.  It is our mind's eye that takes over and we think about things swimming under the water's surface - when we think about them at all - as mostly a jellyfish or a crab or now a fish utterly lost in his navigation and since we in the north don't have the crystal clear water of the southern seas, we just have to imagine what really goes on down there. Happily there are cameras that make exquisite pictures of these things we never see in person.

We are particularly fond of the work "Carnival of the Animals" by the French composer Saint Saens who wrote this piece amid his captivation with the aquarium - all the rage in France in the late 19th century (1886 actually).  Ogden Nash supplied the sublime narrative.

(and you thought this was going to be about wine and our Saturday tasting - see! you can't see under the surface)

THE AQUARIUM
Some fish are minnows,
Some are whales,
People like dimples,
Fish like scales,
Some fish are slim,
And some are round,
They don’t get cold,
They don’t get drowned,
But every fishwife

Fears for her fish,
What we call mermaids
They call merfish.

 

A Wee Dram

We are the first to admit that a little learning is a dangerous thing and when you turn us loose thinking about something....well head for the hills.  At our Irish Whiskey tasting this afternoon, we are featuring soda bread and a wee dram of  JL Sullivan - plus for the first 50 or so folks who drop in, a free CD of Irish music courtesy of a couple of our good friends up the road.  In our very poor faux Irish accent we have been inviting folks in for "a wee dram" until our perpetual good friend popped in and said, "A DRAM is composition of all the different spirits sold in a dram-shop, collected in a vessel into which the drainings of the bottles and quartering pots are emptied".   Well that took the very wind out of our sales (pun intended), let me tell you.
So we woke up early this morning mulling over our new found knowledge and did a bit of reading.  Seems that a dram is a very very small measure - something like 60 grains or 1/16th of an ounce. The word comes from the old unit of currency, the drachma. Way too much?  Wait wait there is more.

We thought about how this got to be applied to Irish whiskey and up popped: measure, shot (informal), drop, glass, tot, slug, snort (slang), snifter (informal) a dram of whisky. 

We are going to stick with "pour a wee dram"...rather than drop in for a snort. 3-6pm. 132 Front.

The Bigger They Come - Well you know the rest

With St. Patrick's Day coming up and our tasting this weekend (Saturday 3-6pm 132 Front St. in Greenport) our thoughts turned of course to a wee dram of Irish Whiskey and perhaps what we found fitting was something of an American inspired spirit. (excuse the play on words).  We,are intrigued by the portrayal of the Irish in our society and applaud the yearly celebration.  It is fun and most of us just put on a smile and some green and wish that proud nationality well.   John L. Sullivan, the bare-knuckle brawler, came to mind as there is a very good Irish Whiskey that bears his name.  We innocently mentioned this to one of our friends who was all full of JL Sullivan lore and we found it very interesting and researching some,  the Wiki article had a lot more to add so were are "thus armed with a pittance of knowledge" making us completely dangerous.  We found that John L. enjoys a Facebook page and that the whiskey that bears his name is aged in Kentucky white oak barrels - ‘Product of Ireland’, but ‘Aged in America’ as the company proudly proclaims. 

Come share some Irish Lore. We will put out some soda bread, pour a wee bit and hope to see you.  No fightin' though.

Never share the stage with a dog

A friend of ours came in at the opening this morning with his Boston Terrier in tow.  Knowing that this Saturday we were going to taste some Irish Whiskey in honor of St. Pat's, (3-6pm) he was all full of good cheer because as he put it, "nothing can be more Irish than a dog bred first in Boston".   We thought that was a bit of a stretch to say the least but he was proud as punch over his 4 legged friend. 
We pondered on the visit for a bit when yet another of our buddies popped in from his morning tussle with the Post Office. He wasn't happy over something and then, when we told him about the visit of the Boston Terrier to our shop and showed him a picture, he got all sentimental on us - he had one as a kid and as we all know, those of us who have lost a pet, there is very little that is harder in life.

To break the rather somber mood, he proceeded to one of his long litany of jokes for all occasions - and with St. Patrick's day coming up, well here it is as best we can remember:

Muldoon lived alone in the countryside outside Boston with only a pet Boston Terrier for company. One day the dog died, and Muldoon went to the parish priest and asked, “Father, my dog is dead. Could ya’ be saying’ a mass for the poor creature?”
Father Patrick replied, “I’m afraid not; we cannot have services for an animal in the church. But there are some Protestants down the lane, and there’s no tellin’ what they believe. Maybe they’ll do something for the creature.”
Muldoon said, “I’ll go right away Father. Do ya ‘think $5,000 is enough to donate to them for the service?”
Father Patrick exclaimed, “Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus! Why didn’t ya tell me that noble beast was Catholic?

Well, you missed the King

Well, color us pea green...we got fooled.  Last Saturday when a guy who looked so much like "The King" walked out of the Post Office and over to our store, signed a few photos and sang us a song...well we were convinced.  Thank you. Thank you very much.

Alas, it wasn't him.  We remarked about this to a local friend who said he was fooled too when he was in line for stamps across the street.  Fool us once. Shame on you.  Fool us twice...well.....

We notice a lot of things from our front window...speaking of our Elvis walking over from the Post Office on Saturday. We like slow walkers who are taking it all in as opposed to the fast run-walkers who are going someplace and can't stop, look or listen. Guess that is just us.

Our local wag who comes in on Monday to find out what we are pourin' on Saturday (3-6p 132 Front, Greenport) stopped in to tell us a story:

'How long will it take me to walk into the village from here?' inquired the English tourist.
'No idea,' replied the Kerry farmer.
Off trudged the Englishman muttering to himself.
'Come back, sor,' called the Kerryman.
'What now?' asked the tourist.
'It'll take you about ten minutes.'
'Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?' asked the Englishman.
'Sure I didn't know how fast you walked!' smiled the farmer.

well - you missed him

It was pretty quiet earlier this afternoon.  We were standing up front near the window and  talking to some of our local friends when a very familiar looking guy stepped out of the Post Office across the street. Snappy blue shoes and a hair style - well...it glistened in the sun.  One of our buddies moved to the door and opened it a bit and shouted across the street - "Yo! King! Over here" - and sure enough this guys walks across Front Street to your little show and pops his head in and asks when the wine tasting starts.

Well, I was dumbfounded. Literally speechless and mumbled something about 3pm and could you hang around for the tasting (3-6p every Saturday)......"No no...gotta run" but he did sign a few pictures and sung us a song.  It was petty cool.

Sorry you missed him. He promised to come back. Maybe later today.  Might be next week during the St. Pat's day tasting. Dunno.

Gotta just take a chance sometimes. If you see someone you recognize that is.

wearin' the green

We mentioned to one of friends who was visiting with us today that we we figuring out what to pour at our wine tasting this Saturday (3-6p) and what we were going to do for St.Patrick's day.  We handn't thought through this weekend but were looking forward to St. Pat's and perhaps a wee dram of good Irish whiskey.  Our friend claimed it reminded him of a joke or two - everything always does....

Now we aren't good at jokes so this is as good as we can remember:

Murphy walked with his dog every day all through the village, so everyone knew both Murphy and his dog. One day Murphy is on his walk without the dog. Cronin sees Murphy and asks, "Where is your dog?". Murphy answers, " I had to have him put down." "Was he mad", asks Cronin." "He wasn't too pleased," says Murphy.

Paddy Murphy arrived at Boston's Logon airport and wandered about the terminal with tears streaming down his cheeks. A Texan asked him if he was homesick.
'No, 'replied the Irishman.' It's worse, I have I've lost all me luggage.'
'That's terrible, how did that happen?'
'The cork fell out of me bottle.' Said Paddy.

An Englishman, a Frenchman and an Irishman name Murphy were in a pub talking about their children.  'My son was born on St George's Day, 'remarked the Englishman, 'So we obviously decided to call him George.'   'That's a real coincidence, 'observed the Frenchman, 'My daughter was born on Valentine's Day, so we decided to call her Valentine.'  'That's really incredible, 'drawled Murphy, 'Exactly the same thing happened with my son Pancake.'

So glad you asked!

We think of our little store as a crossroads.  Many (and we hope most) folks from our area drop in here now and then and we get more than our share of visitors who just want to learn something about wines.  We like to keep up on this stuff so we can be helpful and not be some incredibly self absorbed affectionado who can ramble on for hours and never utter a sentence anyone can understand.  We aren't like that and are the first to admit when we don't know something....think of us as the opposite of politicians and you'll be spot on.

So in comes a good customer just a few minutes ago and tell us that she wants to start a scrapbook of sorts with wine labels - wines she likes and wants to remember for future reference.  How to get a wine label "whole" off a bottle without shredding it like the rest of us do.

We kinda knew but the worst thing you can tell a customer is something that isn't right....so we looked it up and here is a jim-dandy article on just this topic.
We are so pleased that we are going back and put out a bottle of our Riesling wine for our tasting that has a "collectible" label.

We are so pleased that we could sing and dance (but we won't until you come it later for the tasting)

7am Email from Sherlock Holmes

Our laptop went "ping" about 7am this morning - one eye open at best - grey morning with fog on the bay - covers back up over our heads...ping again.
We have a Sherlock Holmes reader/customer who triumphed with this week's riddle - what wine(s) are we featuring at our 3-6pm tasting and he had it right - wines from grapes that grow along the Danube and the Rhine Rivers in starting north of Lake Constance in Southern Germany and flowing in either direction to the Black Sea and the North Sea yada yada - why he even had the hint that we would be serving simple pretzels and white mustard instead of breads (Tuscan or French) and in keeping with the tradition. Wow. Right.

He was hoping to make it down to pick up that Riesling because he was inspired by his Sherlock Holmes and it was such a grey day, crows crowing and fog settling, that over his bacon and eggs, he got out his crock pot and went to his pantry to see what he could let simmer for the day before he joined us for wine and, as he said, take a bottle or two home with him to pair up with what is a "soup day".  Elementary Mr. Watson. Creamy Corn Chowder

In a crock pot dump in:

6 slices bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
4 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
1/2 cup finely chopped onions
1 can (16 ounce size) creamed corn
2 cans chicken broth
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
in the last hour add:
1 can (12 ounce size) evaporated milk or just a cup of whole milk or creame.

Takes about 5 hours give or take.

Serve with our Riesling selections. See you.

Aha !! I figured it out!

Our rambunctious friend popped in just a few minutes ago, fresh from the Post Office, and flapping this folder of photographs at us while uttering hoots and hollers heard form miles.

"I saw the picture in your previous post and I got it", he claimed. "I know the wines you will be serving".

So he showed us this mustard picture - white mustard he claimed - to go with the clue on the table in the prior post.  But not just any white mustard...and then he proceeded to give us a couple more clues that he suggested for us to post up to see if anyone could tumble to the subject of Saturday's tasting.  Well, here they are -

He told us that you had to know your rivers and how you could actually get from the North Sea to the Black Sea and pass right though and sample the wines we were going to put out and instead of a rich rye bread to cleanse the tongue, we would do well with the food in prior post and the white mustard (NOT BROWN that we would use if we were hoitie toitie Frenchmen).

He went out humming a little song.  ....  See you Saturday. We'll drop another clue of our choosing tomorrow.