A sweet gift.

As I was growing up in Poland, wine was not a focal point of social life or the dinner table. There was some Russian (Armenian, really) demi-sec sparkling wines, Hungarian Tokaj and some Bulgarian, Romanian and Yugoslavian wines. I was too young to drink them, so I only have my immediate family’s preferences to use as a barometer of regional preferences.

My barometer underwent a serious calibration on Labor Day.

I prepared two wines to pour with the dinner of grilled fillet mignon: an Aglianico del Vulture and a “semi-dry” (Kindzmarauli) Georgian Saperavi sent to me by a friend living in Chicago.

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Roses on display at the L.A. Arboretum.

In late April, I took my daughter to the Los Angeles County Arboretum. At the time, one of the pavilions was hosting a show of garden roses. We went in and smelled each and every display. Each was wonderfully different in aroma. What’s more, none smelled like the roses sold at even the best florist shops. They smelled like real roses – like the ones growing in our garden.

The experience made me think that, often, what we think is the smell of roses is nothing like the real thing. I was reminded of this just today when my parents brought a bouquet of roses for my wife. They were lovely looking, but musty – smelling almost like TCA. (more…)

Veuve Cliquot Rosé in chiller

Sparkling wines, in many western minds, seem to be inextricable from the celebratory setting. I think this goes beyond precedents and traditions set by tales of debauchery at the widow’s estate. There is something about the effusive nature of bubbly that is visceral in ways that go beyond what is acceptable in polite company.

But I am not polite company.

I guess the American wine consumer of all ranks is having trouble extricating their definition of sparkling wine from rap videos and NASCAR winner’s circles. But it’s not uniquely American to think of sparklers as celebratory. (more…)

Romulan Ale.

I admit without reservation that I am more a gourmand than a gourmet. I suppose that is a euphemistic way of saying that I can be a glutton at times. I’m not much of a Trekkie Trekker, either, but as I delve more into premium specialty spirits on top of my wine reviewing and drinking, I find myself wishing for synthenol.  .

When I tell my brother about the sensory attributes of a wine or other beverage I’m about to pour, he often jokingly asks: “Does it have delicious alcohol in it?“. It does, but it’s debatable if ethanol has flavor characteristics rather than the tactile sensation of “heat”. (more…)