Tag Archives: Muskoka

Porcupine Leading to Drinking Alone

25 Jul

A loon captured in front of our cottage by my cousin’s talented photographer wife, Brenda Dickie

Just returned from three full weeks at the lake. No wireless, no television, just sports radio and expensive data through my iPhone. So, haven’t been following the news – wine news or world news. Although I’m guessing that The Donald did something to get Daddy’s attention.

So, how about a story from the wilds of Muskoka?

You can hear the echoes on the lake: the lonesome whippoorwill (homage to Hank Williams); the haunting call of the loon; the laughter of children swimming; and then there’s THE SOUND.

The sound might remind the untrained ear of someone dragging a hammer claw under the floor of your abode. Or, a small jet aircraft revving on the runway prior to takeoff. It occurs only at night while you sleep. It’s loud, the vibration moving up through the floor, through the bed frame, through the mattress and into your bones. The Director lies sleeping. I, on the other hand, leap from the bed a la the man in the Christmas poem to see what is the matter.

Most would wake and yell, “What the hell is that?” I, however, in a matter of seconds, know exactly what ‘that’ is and simply say, “Oh shit, the porcupines are back.” Yes, folks porcupines can plague even a seasoned cottager like yours truly.

A porcupine pre-glue sniffing

What the heck do porcupines do that makes that sound, you ask? Well, they gnaw on the striated beams that support our cottage with their humongous sharp teeth. Striated beams are made by gluing together a zillion strands of wood. They are as hard as steel.

Years ago, the porkies gnawed right through the floor of our cabin (an abode since torn down) and through the hole, you could see their beady little eyes blinking as they tried to extract as much salty glue as they could from the plywood. That’s right folks – porcupines are glue addicts (Editors Note: They love the glue because plywood glue has salt in it – they crave salt). Imagine the strung out porky retired to his little whatever it is he lives in, bending over a small paper bag of hard won glue, taking a big sniff, and saying, “Far out man, that’s good shit,” as wisps of resin float about his little prickly face.

This last time, I got out of bed and proceeded to pound on the floor over the area where I surmised the porky sat. I yelled, I pounded, I stomped, The Director slept. Seriously?

Eventually, the big fellow – I just noticed that I’ve assigned a gender to this creature. Let’s see – the animal’s a pain in the ass, has no ambition, is glue addicted and up drugging at 3 in the morning – of course, it’s a ‘he’. Where was I? Oh yeah, he crawled out from underneath the cottage and waddled up the path and into the woods. Phew, it’s over. Back to bed? Unfortunately I’m not built like that. Once up – I’m up – really up. That’s a surprise?

This brings me to the wine. You knew that I’d get there. My challenge? Pairing wine to three in the morning in your pyjamas and Googling on your phone “how do I get rid of a porcupine?”

What did I do about the wine? Decision tree on pairing: no food – just empty calories at that time of day – unlike the alcohol, wink, wink; palate a little muted by snore breath; heart racing because, although I know the porcupine isn’t going to burst through the door and begin shooting his quills shouting, “Say hello to my lil’ friend,” I’m just a little anxious; and most importantly, I don’t want to upset my whole three weeks of wine planning by taking a bottle out of turn when the mothership is a one hour drive away.

You might say – how about Port? Too nutty and heavy. Or, maybe a cup of tea? Tea? You think I drink tea? Red wine? Naw, too intense.

As it turned out, there was an open bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge. It’s a familiar label in this market – J. Lohr Arroyo Seco Monterey Chardonnay #258699 $19.95 . It’s a great value Chardonnay with some oak but nothing chewy or over-buttery. Ripe, round and medium weight. This night a glass went perfectly with my frantic internet search for creative ways to rid myself of a beast. OK, it was two glasses.

How can an animal survive with a glue sniffer’s approach to life? Well here’s how, the only predators that porkies need to fear up here are Subarus – the official car of Muskoka. They just go about their business without a care in the world. You can shoot them or poison them and I don’t have the heart for either. So, I’m stocking up on the J. Lohr and learning to live with it.

So, if you’re up in the night with a bit of anxiety and some homework to do, I’m suggesting a medium weight Chardonnay. It doesn’t solve your problems because that, as we all know, requires Scotch. But, it sure beats tea.

Or, might you have any suggestions from personal late night experience?

Cheers.

Bill

Confession – it was two and a half glasses!

Ramble #10 – Swallowing As A Metaphor For Life

23 Jul

cottage3I’ve been away. I intentionally took a break from writing while I sat (a la Otis Redding on the dock at right), read, swam, slept at our cottage in Muskoka and contemplated the …………honestly, just did nothing much of anything. I didn’t even have internet access (gasp) unless I trudged in to civilization (the Gravenhurst library) to post there. While trying to get to sleep one night I started to think about wine writing, my unambitious contribution to the mass of writing on the subject and I thought – Get Up and Write About What You’re Thinking! And, this is it.

Lately there’s been much thrashing about on the subject of wine reviews. Are they necessary? Understandable? Of value? And, if you’ve been playing along at home, you might remember a rant a few months back that spoke obliquely (Word Power: use it three times and it’s yours) to this subject. Not to pile on again but here’s what I think. As Mike from Cranbrook would say, “one man’s opinion”.

What other sensory experience carries the obligation to “get it” before you can talk about it like wine drinking? Is a falafel better appreciated when you’ve taken a course on Middle Eastern cuisine? E.g. Course 101 – Experiencing Food Cart Fare – of the FSET (Falafel and Shwarma Education Trust)

1.     Tasting Order – Falafel, Cleanse Palate, Shwarma, Cleanse Palate, Tabouleh, Cleanse Palate, Fattoush, Break For Lunch.

2.     Carefully remove falafel from its waxed paper wrapping by turning counter-clockwise 6.5 times and place on paper plate provided free of charge with your course registration (feel free to take plate home to use for home tastings).

3.     View the falafel against a white background (that be the plate) and compare to the palate of falafel colours provided in your course materials, pages 24 – 56. Whole wheat or white?

4.     Swirl paper plate under your nose. Please choose from the 37 categories of scents that foods wrapped in pita exude. “I’m sensing a spicy component – Cinnamon? Pepper? Anise? No, marjoram! That and distinctive medium-new canola grease accents.” Now, drill down.

5.     Take a bite of the falafel, chew (yes, it’s chewy) and determine if it’s carrying the tell-tale falafel signature of chickpea – the chickpeaness – (that sounds kind of rude but you get it, right?). “Light to medium bodied.”

6.     Spit the chewed up falafel into the spittoon.

7.     Now savour that finish. For example my notes say, “On the rather long finish the heavy utilization of condiments carry the day. Hot sauce and pickled turnip. All in all I prefer a less tricked up falafel”

But as funny as that comparison is, the thing that kept me awake tonight was this – why do those that simply smell, swish and spit get to hold sway on wine? It’s unnatural. The bloggers that I read clearly drink what they’re talking about – I see them nodding but not publicly acknowledging a wee bit of a problem. Love these men and women! “Swallowing is key to understanding wine, I believe”, he says as he takes another sip and swallows. I’ve seen on video the Emperor of Wine, who I actually love to read (which explains my dilemma), review a flight of 7 zillion Bordeaux at one sitting by simply smelling, swishing and spitting, Graphite? On to another. What the hell does graphite matter when you’re not even going to swallow the wine? Red cherry or black cherry? Yes, i want to know what the flavours are but swallow for crying out loud! We most likely don’t and can’t taste wine like that. We enjoy wine by a brief swirl, sniff, sip, swish and gulp. Our evaluation, most importantly (check one): Yuck! Meh? I love this stuff!

sommeecardMy first wine tasting was the best example of this because I left the place (a crowded room with 95 wines) with a pretty solid buzz and a poor recollection of the wines that I’d tasted (actually swallowing because I didn’t want to make a mess spitting into a rudely partially-filled stainless steel container with a scarily narrow opening). I learned that wine is ill-suited to and not meant to be lined up in a busy room and subjected to note taking and spitting. Regardless of who’s doing it and whether they’re really good or not. It’s just rude and not fair to the guys and gals that slaved to make the stuff. It’s only giving us a palate confusing or oblique (2 times) introduction to the wine. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still going to go to tastings; swallowing every sip I take. I want to experience as many wines as I can while staying under the “room is whirling” threshold.

So, Bill, why bother reading any of the multitude of wine reviews available? Funny you should ask.  Because I think so.

Because most of us can’t go to every movie release, every restaurant and try every dish. We depend on others. And, that works best when we get to know some of these others – get to trust or understand their viewpoint. Those who experience life and wine like we do or how we want to. I know that Robert Parker loves Rhone wine more than I do. And, I love them a ton. He tells me what he experiences when he swirls and spits. I get him on the Rhone and have a pretty good idea how the swallow will turn out for me. I can’t go with him in Bordeaux. He doesn’t get me there. And that’s OK. In this way, I know that I can trust The Drunken Cyclist if he suggests a Champagne. I can take it to the bank if The WineGetter promotes a Riesling. If Oenophilogical sings the praises of a Trader Joe’s wine, I wish I was in U.S of A. so that I could pick it up. I may not love the wines like they do but I know what to expect. I like to read them because they don’t take an oblique (bingo!) approach to wine – they are straight forward, understandable yet informed by years of swallowing! There’s substance that we can enjoy and learn from. They swallow! Talk-a-Vino? He swallows cause you can just tell. Grapefriend? I’m betting swallows when by herself or with close family and  trusted friends.

So, the moral of the story? Drink lots of wine. Don’t believe everything you read in wine journalism, and particularly, here. I love to swallow. Smelling is very nice.  Swishing is sublime but I believe that swallowing is also key to experiencing wine. I can’t truly understand a wine without swallowing it. And, frankly, I just don’t want to, regardless of what my doctor suggests.

Yes, that’s it. Now I can go to sleep. Well after I finish the little glass of chardonnay that I just poured. “Umm, a little more buttery since it’s warmed up, swallow. Yum.”

Next post we’ll return to wine reviews and other fun stuff.

Note: Very funny picture above courtesy of http://www.someecards.com

 

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