Why yes, it IS 3:30 in the morning...

Brandy's not in San Francisco right now, so of course, I'm awake at this ungodly hour despite not having worked today. I've been playing Marvel Ultimate Alliance, browsing friends' MySpace profiles, and surfing the InterWebs.

Over at the SF Metroblogs, I found a link to this gem of a Roommate Wanted classified.

Seems like a cool place to live. And by cool, I mean fucking awesome if you're a bedheaded, videogaming Asian.

And if you don't mind cockroaches.

In any case, you have to respect anybody willing to put that sort of effort (and subtle humor) into creating a craigslist post.

 

Just an existential quote for you

On this lovely Friday, I find myself devoid of a meaningful post (or, at least, devoid of a meaningful post that would take less than two hours to write). So I'll present to you some wisely patriotic words that have been resonating within me recently.

So, then, to every man his chance -- to every man, regardless of his birth, his shining golden opportunity -- to every man his right to live, to work, to be himself, to become whatever his manhood and his vision can combine to make him -- this, seeker, is the promise of America.

- Thomas Wolfe

And not to put too political a spin on it, but the Lame Duck Administration™ should really read that several times and attempt to fathom its meaning.

 

Stocking the Home Bar, Part 4: Te-Kill-Ya

One tequila, two tequilas, three tequilas... floor.

Salt, shot, lime.

Everyone has one. A tequila story. And I don't even have to explain what I'm talking about.

Right now, you're flashing back to the night you spent splayed out on your bathroom floor, futilely trying to drive the porcelain bus back to sobriety or, at the very least, to somewhere the world wasn't violently spinning.

Or perhaps it was the night you decided that dancing on the bar was a fabulous idea. Until it wasn't.

As for me, it was a Thursday work mixer at which I consumed too much red wine before taking a cab to a Mission dive bar to meet a different cadre of friends. As I walked through the door, a "friend" bought me two prairie fires (tequila shots with a few shakes of Tabasco at the bottom) and a plain tequila chaser, which I promptly ingested. Cut to the next morning when, feeling remarkably wonderful, I awoke early, got to work early and started doing some damn good work. When nature called an hour later, I went to the bathroom and realized that I was still drunk just seconds before letting loose a veritable geyser of agave-flavored red wine residue.

Surely, my finest hour.

And yet, I still love tequila. I probably like it more now than I did then. Most likely, that's because I can afford better tequila. Also I now know better.

Unfortunately, I continue to meet people who won't drink tequila because of their "Tequila Night." Some can't even smell the lovely, singular, peppery sweetness without convulsing involuntarily.

My theory: no one has "vodka nights" because vodka is odorless and flavorless. Their brain has nothing to latch onto, except perhaps a specific mixer. Tequila, on the other hand, causes the most negative associations because it is richly flavored and odored. If you have a bad tequila experience, the smell and taste, distinct as they are, will stick in your brain. Your sense memory will forever stab you in the back.

Hopefully, a little information will make you feel better about Mexico's finest spirit, so listen up because I'm about to drop some knowledge.

tequila : mezcal : : cognac : brandy

Just as cognac is a territorially demarcated type of brandy, so is tequila a territorially demarcated type of mezcal. Tequila must be made of blue agave (agave azul tequilana weber) and produced within a special area (mostly in the Mexican state of Jalisco). For additional technical information, I recommend you visit Viva Tequila and Wikipedia.

More important to the casual drinker are the aging standards, which I'm reposting from the Wikipedia article (because you should see this).

• oro ("gold") or – unaged tequila which is "joven y abogado" (young and adulterated) which means that caramel, fructose, glycerin and wood flavoring can be added to resemble aged tequila
• blanco (white) or plata ("silver") – not aged white spirit)
• reposado ("rested" – aged a minimum of 2 months but less than a year in oak barrels)
• añejo ("aged" or "vintage" – aged minimum 1 year but less than 3 years in oak barrels)
• maduro ("ultra-aged" or "vintage" – aged minimum 3 year in oak barrels) This is a new category which was established in March 2006, represented on the bottles as "Extra Añejo".

Joven y abogado? Glycerin and wood flavoring? Now you see why I don't drink gold tequilas. *eeewwwwww*

Honestly, I prefer reposados. The short wood contact smoothes out most of the rough edges and imparts a touch of oak flavor (baking spices and wood notes) while leaving a little fire. And you can't beat a good reposado in a margarita.

[Side note: while establishments like Fat Tuesday might be lovely places for spring break, the concept of a bargain-basement alcoholic slushee turns my stomach. Then again, I dislike "frozen" drinks in general. Except when on a beach. Or in Vegas.]

You will also notice the newest age class of tequila, the maduro or extra añejo. Does all the extra oak improve the tequila? That's up to you to decide. I wouldn't mix it with anything, that's for sure. The most obvious example, the Jose Cuervo Reserva de la Familia, tastes of sweet baking spice, vanilla, and mellow black pepper with nuances of orange peel and earth. It's really quite good, but in a cognac / single malt scotch way, which is to say that it's a sipper, not a shooter or mixer.

For your home bar needs, I'd say that you should keep it in the family. If you like Patrón, go ahead and buy the blanco, reposado, and añejo. Most people do. The Gran Patrón Platinum might be a bit of a stretch, though, unless you're stocking a much nicer home bar than the rest of us.

I prefer Partida (who doesn't like reposado aged in Jack Daniel's barrels?) and Herradura. Once again, it's up to you. If you want to track down the small, family-owned craft distillers, more power to you. These selections should be more readily available.

And if you're one of those poor souls who can't get over his "Tequila Night," I'd like to suggest a Bloody Maria.

Yes, it's a Bloody Mary with tequila instead of vodka.

Yes, it's really good.

Make sure you have it with brunch on a morning after a sober night. Have the bartender make it light, initially. Have it with celery and olives. Have it with bacon and eggs. You'll be surprised how easily it goes down.

 

Quick update (and making excuses)

Hey, all.

I see that some of you have been visiting to see if I've posted anything recently. Obviously, everyone's just super-eager to read my thoughts on tequila (other than, "it's good.").

Sorry.

I just haven't been in the mood to write. Plus, I've been playing a bit of Marvel Ultimate Alliance. Plus, I got a copy of Dreamweaver for Christmas, and I haven't yet installed it because I was waiting for my new 500GB hard drive to get here, which it did yesterday. However, since the HD is enterprise class (for commercial / web app use), it didn't come with any cables. I'll have to rip apart the computer this weekend and hope I have a spare cable or else it's a detour to Fry's for me.

Dreamweaver (aside from being a right nice piece of software) will allow me to post pictures from that event I was mentioning in my last blog.

Oh hell, I'll just spill the beans. Maybe that way, you guys can comment on my blog to hassle me about not posting the pictures yet. Coming soon, a recap of the first San Francisco Burrito Crawl.

Yes, that's like a pub crawl, but with burritos.

 

Hello? Anyone in there?

I was going to sleep in this morning. I was going to sleep until 8:30 am and not post a blog entry, knowing that I'd be working a double today. Unfortunately, our friendly neighborhood garbage men had other ideas.

Damn garbage trucks. Can someone please invent a silent mode for those fucking things? Jamie?          :)

Anyway, since I'm up, I thought I'd let you all know that Stocking the Home Bar, Part 4: Te-kill-ya will be going up tomorrow. Just need to do a little more drinking research.

Also, next week, I'll recap our participation in an event so revolutionary, so monumental, so egregiously over-the-top it will change San Franciscan waistlines forever. And I will come armed with pictures and tabulated results.

---

Just so this doesn't seem like an empty preview, I'd like to share with you one Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Those of you who don't recognize his name will most definitely recognize the song on my MySpace frontpage.

Anyone who's talked music with me for a little while knows that I almost always prefer an original to a cover. There are very few covers that, through differing musical style or instrumentation or vocal phrasing, really create a different, and sometimes more enjoyable, piece of music. Kamakawiwo'ole's song (medley, really) is one of the best examples of that. The first thirty seconds gives me goosebumps every time I hear it.

Please enjoy, and may your day be a little brighter.

 

P.S. - Jamie, don't forget about silent mode on those garbage trucks.

 

Stocking the Home Bar, Part 3 - Cognac

OK, so I don't have time this morning to tackle all my favorites, so I'll just give you France's finest spirit, Cognac, which is distilled from grapes and aged in oak barrels. I won't go into the heady details of classifications and aging as that is well covered in the Wikipedia entry.

Cognac is brandy, but brandy is not necessarily cognac. If the spirit is not made in the Cognac region of France, it's brandy, just as sparkling wine made outside of Champagne is... sparkling wine. Other regions might have different names for their brandies, notably Armagnac, which is also in France, not to mention the large number of fruit brandies like Calvados and Palinka. In any case, be prepared to sacrifice a fair percentage of your bar budget here (but save a bunch for Scotch and bourbon, too).

Let's go through what you probably already know: Rémy Martin, Hennessy, Courvoisier, Martell. While all these companies produce a fine product and at least one stellar, super-aged tête-de-cuvée, there are a number of smaller producers who deserve your support, too.

Hine, somewhat known for producing vintage (year of production is marked on label) cognacs, is lovely stuff. The Rare VSOP is wonderful, all candied fruits and baking spices and a whiff of citrus.

Delamain also makes unique cognacs, choosing to use their own age terms rather than the accepted VS, VSOP, XO.

And if you think good brandies are limited to France, you would be missing out on some of the finest distilled spirits in the United States. I speak, of course, of Germain-Robin.

The most important thing for you to know about Germain-Robin (other than the fact that they make some of the best brandy in the world): they make single-varietal brandies. In and of itself, this means nothing.

The blender's art is a crucial part of making a successful brandy or cognac. Blending is the fount from which house styles emerge. Blending is the act of taking all the disparate parts and melding them into something better. Blending, while it might be overlooked these days, is a wonderful and necessary thing.

But there's something revelatory about tasting the product of a single barrel, made from a single grape varietal in a single harvest. It's the same reason wine lovers constantly search for true expressions of terroir from single vineyards. It's different. It's quirky and idiosyncratic. It's a snapshot of one place at one time, painted over the canvas of your tongue.

Time for a drink.

 

Back from a long winter's hiatus

Hola. Greetings and salutations, all.

It's just about time to get back on the blogging trail. After not writing anything for a while, I'll be easing back into it again so nothing of real substance today. Just a little recap of the past couple of weeks.

Spent Christmas with the in-laws down in Orange Beach, Alabama. No, they're not from there; it's the family vacation home. However, it has become something of a yearly tradition for Brandy and I, her sister, and her parents to meet up in Orange Beach for Christmas, and that's just fine by me. I'm blessed with in-laws I like, and more importantly, who like me. It's laid-back, there's lots of seafood, and there's Doc's.

Doc's Seafood Shack is precisely the kind of place at which you would stop if you were lost and hungry. If you weren't, the dive-y, Shack-ness of it would probably scare you away. And you would miss out on some of the best gumbo, crab claws, fried flounder, and sweet tea in the South. Maybe in the country. Yummy. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

If you're ever in the area, you'll want to go to the Canal Road location, not the Gulf Shores location. One, Theresa's a great waitress (she remembers what we all order, and we only eat there a few times a year around Christmas), and two, the Gulf Shores location is all... clean and nice and respectable -- not at all what you want from any self-respecting seafood shack.

Brandy and I returned home, overloaded with the stuff we bought while outlet shopping in Alabama, and after one more night of emergency cleaning for us, Brandy's sister arrived to vacation with us some more.

It was a whirlwind trip, and as always, much too short, but it was great. Jamie even helped us clean while she was here. And by clean, I mean completely reorganize the plentitude of crap cluttering our living room. Our apartment is now to the point where I would almost consider having people over. Almost. We're still a bit of cleaning away from that.

Since food is such a big deal for us, I'll just gloss over the hit list: another dinner at Dragonfly (just as good as last time), some Dungeness crab from the farmer's market (and I made crab cakes with the leftover meat), some Woodhouse Fish Company (always tasty, and some of the best clam chowder we've had on the West Coast), a farewell dinner at Town Hall (a little lackluster, actually, and definitely not as issue-free as our last visit, which was excellent).

I worked on New Year's Eve. It was fine, if a bit dull. The sisters hung out and watched Sex and the City while drinking margaritas. Damn them.

On New Year's Day, we watched Michigan piss away another bowl game.

It's called blitzing. We should try it. It's not really a pass rush if the passer doesn't have to rush his throws. And Morgan Trent cannot cover WRs with size and speed. Would it kill you to help him out with a floating safety or maybe some contact on the line?

I feel bad for Mike Hart. He's coming back for his senior season, and he expressly stated that he was doing so just to beat Ohio State and win a national championship.

I've got news for you. Your quarterback will still be Chad Henne. He will continue to throw balls just slightly behind the receivers. He will continue to rush dump-off passes at people's feet. He will continue to make the occasional highlight reel pass to tease us into thinking he might be putting it all together. In short, he'll still have his head up his ass. Sorry, Mike.

And that's the fortnight in review. I'll get back to the good stuff tomorrow (maybe Friday).