Pass the corkscrew, Rhett: the newbie tries Shiraz.

My extremely hilariously funny Aunt Nancy has this great line for dodos who ask questions with obvious answers. "Are you new?" is her version of 'duh!', and Nancy if you don't mind I'm totally stealing this line from you. "Are you new?" is what the wine gods sneered at me as I fell in love with my first few sips of Shiraz. Oh heavens! Mama's got a brand new bag!

Forgive me if you're one of those readers who hates it when people personify wine. If you dislike this trend in wine description, you should probably go read another blog, 'cause I'm not likely to stop likening wines to men any time soon. And this wine is totally my Rhett Butler. Now I've had Shiraz (Syrah) in blends before, but this is the first time I've experienced this handsome devil on its own. Karen MacNeil, author of The Wine Bible, calls this grape 'manly yet elegant'. That description is so totally spot on.

The bottle that landed in my lap was from a winery in Beamsville called Peninsula Ridge (2008 vintage). Beamsville must be an oasis of vines and men in chaps to produce such wine. I'll book my tour presently. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this wine and its leathery, smoky scent, with a surprising berry-plum ka-boom! on the tongue on the first sip--and every sip thereafter. Such a sneaky wine, it doesn't taste like it smells! It was a bargain at $14.95; I found it in the Ontario wine section at our puny LCBO.

If you need me, Rhett and I will be cuddling on the couch.

'Til next time,

B.

Finding balance, trying Semillon.

Apologies for the poor quality of the photograph. I only had my cellphone camera to work with, and it's best described as crap-tacular. Had you been there, you could have hovered over the plate and inhaled the most delicious, harmonious smells your nose ever breathed in!

I'm patting myself on the back for this one. Despite the decided lack of harmony in my life right now, I managed to make a meal with flavours that were extremely well balanced. I credit it to an afternoon with Dad. Home right now is all awkward moments and long, tiring talks and fretful rest at night; in contrast, my parent's house was an oasis of peace this afternoon. Their backyard has a wonderful garden, and the lush green sights and smells helped to quiet my inner beehive.

I brought with me a treasure of beets--barely out of the ground--from the farmer's market. The noble beet! I can't believe I've neglected this wonderful vegetable for so long! All my life, the only beets I've tried have been of the pickled variety. They deserve more attention; there are few vegetables as pretty, with such a sweet, earthy flavour.

I built the menu around today's wine, which was an Australian Semillon. This grape piqued my interest the other day when I read about it in Karen MacNeil's Wine Bible. Described as honey-like and lightly fruity, I was determined to make it the next grape to check off my list.

This particular Semillon--Peter Lehmann--was cheap and cheerful at $14.95 (LCBO), with pretty artwork on the label (I was an art major, I notice these things). I think the vintage was 2008. Dry as a bone, this wine was extremely zippy, with notes of lime, lemon-thyme and of course, honey. It was lovely and refreshing, served cold but not too frosty, and did a good job of cutting through the fat of our chicken wings. It squeaked over the palate between bites, like a window-washer swiping his squeegee over a dirty window. I imagine you could get a very similar effect by biting a slice of lemon in between mouthfuls. However, having said all that, I wish that the honey and herb notes were a little more pronounced. The citrus flavours and acidity wrestled their way to the top and overpowering the more delicate secondary flavours.

Je-bus Kee-rist. Listen to me. What a wine snob! I guess bullshitting like the rest of those wine experts out there is part of learning to talk about wine. I think this is where my degree comes in handy. In studio critique, we had to master the skill of looking at a piece of artwork, visually dissect it and form thoughts and opinions on what we thought the artwork was trying to accomplish. It's pretty much the same process with wine. You have to use your senses, pull apart the elements, describe them and then decide if as a whole they work together. It's art in a glass. I loved critique in art school and was pretty good at it; so learning to talk about wine should be a cinch.

Okay, getting back on track. The beets, the wings and the honey-garlic salad were brilliant with this wine. I used lots and lots of olive oil in this meal, and the Semillon just sliced right through it. There was definitely an Italian-Mediterranean influence; I'll detail below each dish and highly recommend you repeat the experience.

Italian-Style Chicken Wings

Dad cooked these babies up on the Barbie; in the last 5-8 minutes he lathered on a mixture I'd whipped up which went something like this:

4 T. olive oil
4 cloves minced garlic
3-4 pinches of Italian seasoning
1/2 or more Parmesan cheese (I used the shaky stuff, not the fresh grated)
1/2 c Balsamic vinegar (I'll cut down on this a bit next time).
salt
pepper
Had I remembered to bring it, I would have added fresh chopped parsley from my garden.

It makes a gloppy brown runny paste; don't worry about looks, it's totally delicious.

Sauteed beets with feta

6 beets, washed topped and tailed, cut into wedges
olive oil
sea salt
rosemary
feta cheese

Basically, take your wedges and coat them nicely with olive oil (not too much), grind some sea-salt over top and throw in a couple of pinches of rosemary. Saute those purple lovelies over a med-high heat until soft (it took me 20 min-1/2 hour). I threw in lots more rosemary while they were cooking. When the wedges are cooked to your satisfaction, ladle into a serving bowl, crumbling feta over the beets in layers as you go. Top off with crumbled feta. Gorge self on the most delicious vegetable dish imaginable. Have no guilt in doing so.

The salad had a honey-garlic dressing Karen showed me how to make. No exact measures here, just olive oil, vinegar, a few tablespoons of honey, a buttload of minced garlic and some ground sea salt. Shake in a closed container until it emulsifies. Toss into your salad and voila! Vampires be gone!

We cut up a French stick to go with it as well, 'cause French bread makes the world go round.

Have fun! Don't forget the Semillon!

B.

Back to the Future with Beaujolais

Image borrowed from the Louis-Jadot website.

I've been abstaining from wine since last Friday. Not that there hasn't been many a moment where I would have liked to lie on the grass with a deep, soothing pinot noir. Just yesterday I was in a meeting to present my artwork to a buyer who owns 15 stores, and my bra strap decided to go ping!, sending one boob Southward. Try and look like a professional business person while digging under your top to hook your bra back up, I dare you. This seems to be in keeping with my week of humiliation; it's been several days of apologies, long explanations and keeping of the appearance of holding myself together when half the time I wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole. But listen to me rambling on about boring things like midlife crises and falling boobs. Really what I wanted to talk about was the first wine I tried that got me interested in wine in the first place.

Keep in mind that my wine experiences for most of my life have been limited the cheap, nasty stuff that makes mouths pucker at fundraising dinners and wedding receptions everywhere. Once in a while my dad or sister would introduce me to a wine I liked considerably better than those little glasses of vinegar, but usually those offerings were heavier, deeply fruity and tannic wines. That's not a bad quality in itself, but when it's all you're every exposed to, it gets tremendously boring.

Little wonder then, that when I first got my lips around Beaujolais that I had a wine Revelation. Now I think in my inaugural post I described this wine as sex in a glass. I'm no longer of that opinion (I've had liaisons with much sexier wines since then!), but I will say that at the time, it was an eye-opening experience, because it made me realize the possibility for variation of flavours in wine.

If you're a wine greeney like me, and have no idea what I'm talking about, Beaujolais is kind of like the French equivalent of Kool-Aid, and I mean that in the best possible way. Light and fruity, Beaujolais has very little tannic flavour, which is probably why you're supposed to drink it while it's young. Tannin is the stuff that preserves red wine, so without tannin wine would spoil after a few years in the cellar. This is typically why red wines are aged for long periods of time before they are drunk, and wines without gobs of tannin--white wine, rose(eh!) and Beaujolais--are usually enjoyed within their first few years of production. See! I'm learning things!

ANYWAY, the light tannins and superfruity cherry flavour of Beaujolais is a pleasant surprise to the palate after a lifetime of vinegar and heavy tannin. I distinctly remember thinking this is a wine you could chug-a-lug on a hot day, and how surprised I was by that because it was a red wine. I suppose this is what they call 'quaffing' wine; something that's easily knocked back without food and goes well with lighter fare. It's wine more suitable for the picnic than it is for the bbq.

Having tried many wines since, I will say Beaujolais not my favouritist of favourites. I now find it a bit thin, with virtually no lingering finish or complexity. It's innocuous, which I suppose is good in some situations, but when you're keen on finding exciting flavours it doesn't quite fit the bill. But I am very grateful to this wine. It showed me there's a ocean of different flavours out there waiting to be discovered. It's the wine that pushed me forward and made me eager to try the next bottle of something new. And it's the wine I keep in the fridge when I want a fingerful of something inoffensive to wash down my two Tylenol and a multivitamin at the end of the day.

Louis-Jadot's Beaujolais-Villages 2008 can be found at your local LCBO.

Back to my regularly scheduled mucky life.

B.

A Toast to Tragedy: My Champagne Evening.

So my Aunt Janet writes on my facebook wall about Veuve Clicquot: "Yesssss. Most definitely worth every penny. Life is too short. It'll transform your day/evening/outlook/life in general..." Well holy shit, she was so right! But not at all in the way I expected.

So my sister hosts this wicked party (yes, I said wicked. I grew up in the 80's.)twice a year. Its the kind of party you so don't want to miss. For starters, she lives in this incredible old church that's crazy huge, like 17000sq. ft. It's totally decked out in antiques that range from awesome to bizarrely awesome. The former owners were jazz muscians who turned the church basement into a nightclub. Pretty much every inch of wall downstairs in lacquered in posters from their performances around the world. Of course it's perfectly suited to have live music, so friends of theirs--Poor Angus--come and play the absolute best live Celtic music you've ever heard or ever will hear. How Lorri manages this party TWICE a year is beyond me, but she does every June and Hallowe'en. This year the party fell on the day after my Dad's 67th birthday, so we were especially looking forward to celebrating this milestone in high style.

Let me advise you: if you are looking forward to spending the night at a great party with family and friends, and you are considering taking champagne as your drink of choice, don't. Bad decision. Don't get me wrong, the champagne was incredible. We drank the Veuve Clicquot first. I so loved how under the foil on the wire cage was this little painted portrait of the Widow Clicquot herself. Bless her stout lil' heart, her legacy is something to be proud of. I uncouthley stuck my nose to the bottle, as I often do, upon opening. I can't help it! I love that rush of fragrance that first leaps out of the bottle! Crisp apples! Oooo! It was lovely and zingy, and yet had this nice baked bread slightly yeasty aroma that kept it from being too mouth-puckery. We drank out of proper flutes so we could get the full effect of those delicate bubbles. We shared liberally, but I was about to find out how quickly you can become light-headed drinking champagne. Prolly should have eaten a dinner too, but whoops, in the goings-on of the evening we just didn't have time and/or forgot.

When the last lovely drops were gone, the Mumms Napa Valley was opened. What a contrast! In a good way, I mean. It was also completely scrumptiously delicious, but so different than the bottle that came before it. There is sunshine in this wine; you can taste the warm weather and sun and the ripeness that goes along with it. Apart from that, I can't provide you with further description. My tastebuds and judgement were rapidly becoming numb. We shared this bottle too--liberally I might add--but again, it seems a little goes a long way with champagne.

Basically, I got drunk way, way, way to quickly. Which resulted in the subsequent arguement with my husband, which led to his angrily stomping off and yelling at my mother, followed a ridiculous crying jag from me that I'm certain bordered on operatic. My poor mother, sister, aunt and friend spent the night scuttling about trying to comfort me whilst concealing this wretchedness from my father, who was supposed to be enjoying his birthday celebration. In fact I missed the birthday portion of the evening completely. What a tragedy. I don't mean to be overly dramatic here, but Dad's not exactly in the ripest of health. I wanted to have a really memorable night with him, but it ended up being memorable for all the wrong reasons. Had I had better judgement--less champagne-impaired judgement--this could have been completely avoided. Now my marriage is in the shitter, my parents are worried sick for me, I've bewlidered the rest who were privvy to this fiasco, and I am faced with the wretched decision of "What the hell am I going to do now?" It could have been worse, I guess. Our marriage could have gone Vesuvius at say, the school play, or parent-teacher night. I suppose we've all made asses of ourselves at parties at one time or another. Please feel free to share your own 'party of drunken fuckery' story, particularly if it's worse than mine and has the potential of making me feel better about my own. Raise your glass, and give a toast to these tragic moments that make us stronger, wiser and provide us with an anecdote we can share when the details become less horribly painful. I won't be raising, mine; I'm shutting down my wine-tasting career for a while. Apologies to the 4 people who follow my blog. I'll pick it up again when life tastes less bitter.

For now,

B.

Tiny supervillans nearly finished off wine--forever!!

Okay, so for those of you who already know about the history of wine, you'll want to stop reading now. For the rest of you, here's a cool bit of wine history that'll amuse and/or bore your friends at dinner parties.

Once upon a time in the 1860's a tiny bastard of an aphid species called Phylloxera made the long trip from America to France. Here's what the evil bugger looked like:



If I ever write a murder/intrigue/spy novel, I'm going to name the villian Phylloxera. It just sounds evil, doesn't it? Phylloxera sounds like it could be one of Batman's nemesis. But I digress. This little bastard stowaway came to Europe on steamships that carried grape rootstocks. Apparantly it hadn't occurred to experimental-minded winemakers at the time that bringing American plants to France might post a risk to native species.

Those little aphids had a never-ending frat-party of a drinkfest once they got to France (let's be fair--wouldn't you do the same?). But instead of tapping kegs, they tapped into the roots of grapevines, and vineyards started falling fast and furious. The French were left scratching their little beret-clad heads. There was a very real danger of grapes becoming extinct, and fear that wine would disappear altogether (shudder). Those hungry buggers weren't content to stay in France; the aphid blight spread throughout the rest of Europe too. The French government offered a huge reward to the person who found the cure for this mysterious vine sickness.

Happily, the aphids were discovered by a biologist named Jules-Emile Planchon, but then a new problem arose. Vintners started doing everything from drenching their vineyards with pesticides to placing toads beneath the vines to cure the blight, but no luck. Then two clever wine growers--Leo Laliman and Gaston Bazille-- discovered that if they grafted vines onto aphid resistant rootstocks from America, the vines flourished and grape nuances were not affected. Snooty French winemakers poo-poohed this American cure, preferring toads and chemicals. Not-so-snooty-clever-wine-loving French winemakers saw the wisdom of using rootstocks, and their vineyards recovered. Unfortunately for Laliman and Bazille, government-types were jerks in the 1800's too: they reneged on their offer of prize money when the winemakers tried to collect. But at least Laliman and Bazille had the satisfaction of knowing that wine was safe, thanks to them.

And that's your history lesson for today. If you enjoy a glass of French wine tonight, raise your glass to Laliman and Bazille. Without them, you'd probably be drinking a vodka cooler.

'Til next time!

B.

Schlamezel! Schlamizel! Gewurtztraminer Incorporated!

No reason for the Laverne and Shirley reference, other than Schlamezel, Schlamizel and Gewurtztraminer are all fun words to say. Gewurtztraminer! Gewurtztraminer! Say it a bunch of times out loud, and I dare you not to do it with a fake German accent.

Well darlings, I wish I could say I had as much fun drinking it as I did saying it. My virgin Gewurtztraminer voyage was in a sugary boat, sailing on a lake of flowery, lychee-flavoured syrup. On the up-side, my cough is gone (hyuk! hyuk! hyuk!). Now my gorgeous dear old friend Mathieu has encouraged me not to give up on Gerwurtz. I trust Mathieu, because he is smart and cultured and loves wine, so I may brave it again with a Swiss fondue as per his suggestion. A rudimentary internet search also has this wine paired up with fatty foods (ie. smoked salmon, which I love) and spicy dishes (curry, Thai, Mexican), all of which appeals to me and can induce me to try Gewurtz again. (Side note: I'm not mentioning the name of the wine, because as Thumper says "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.")



On a happier note, we tried the remaining Fielding Rose last night, and I found it was remarkably improved with our choice of meal. On the menu: Rose risotto with thyme, sauteed brussel sprouts with nutmeg and bbq'd chicken with a balsamic vinegar and fig glaze. What a heavenly meal! The wine was *perfect* with our dinner. Like Daniel Craig's bare chest glistening in the sun perfect. For reals. So go repeat the experience for yourselves this weekend.

Good news btw! Local strawberries from Berry Hill Farms are ready in 3 days! Three days! That high-pitched SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE you hear in your ear is me, squealing for joy at the thought of making strawberry basil jam and consuming gobs of it on a baguette with warm brie (also remarkably good with Granny Smith apple or crushed raspberries. Thanks Karen, for introducing me to this incredible treat!).

In a preemptive effort to scare away fat cells, I'm off for some vigorous exercise. Ta ta!

Hello fello winos! Very, very lovely wine to tell you about, so put your glass down and pick up a pen.

Chimeres 2007 from Chateau Saint-Roch. (The first e in Chimeres has an accent over it, so please if there are any willing francophones out there, let me know how to insert accents over letters as I am clueless.) This winery is in French Catalonia, near the Mediterranian Sea. Let's all hop into our imaginary planes and fly there, direct to the winery where we can enjoy this wine in huge quantities.

It's a mix of Grenache (65%), Syrah (30%) and Carignan--new to me!--(5%). In Barb math terms, Grenache + Syrah + Carignan= pour me another glass.

There's a lovely earthiness to this wine. The fruit is real berry; the true I-picked-it-off-the-bush-at-the-side-of-the-road kind, not the I've-been-genetically-engineered-and-am-now-sitting-at-the-bottom-of-your-yogurt-cup kind. But there's also a toasty nut, deep, lush, foresty, sexy flavour that makes you want to paint yourself blue, put on a sheet and dance around a bonfire.

A note about the tannins: I found them very present but not disagreeable. We barely decanted this wine, so it may benefit from an hour or so of airing out. I could drink this wine without food, but if you were to eat something with it, have something meaty. I was wishing for pate, but it would be just as nice with a piece of steak, or better yet, some of that lovely elk we enjoyed last week. Oh hell yes!!! I am absolutely 100% going to repeat this wine with elk! Genius!

This was one of Karen's picks--well done, my love! I'm happy to report that this is a wine available at the LCBO, so scuttle away, little kittens, and pick up a bottle of this woodsy nectar to enjoy for the weekend.

'Til next time!

B.

Beware the Zinfandel...

Two wines to talk about this time 'round, both LCBO fare, so listen up if you're a wine lovin' Ontarian.

The LCBO has recently done a little push on wines from Argentina; you can read about them here: http://www.vintages.com/discover/argentina_en.shtml?homepage-vc6
Being a sucker for LCBO marketing--the glossy photographs and soft-porn wine descriptions get me every time--I bought a bottle. Bodega Norton Reserva Malbec 2006 went through the checkout and over to my parent's place so I could share it with Dad. Now neither Dad nor I knew what to expect having never tried a Malbec, but the tasting notes and high score gave me hope: "Very toasty, offering showy mocha and spice aromatics, but there's also plenty of flesh, with lush raspberry, fig and plum notes that follow through on the long, polished finish. Drink now through 2010. Score - 90. (James Molesworth, www.winespectator.com, Nov. 15, 2008)" (taken directly off of the LCBO website). I was ready to be amazed, having read about the grapes grown on the mountainside in the super-sunny Mendoza region, nourished by glacial runoff blah blah blah. Consequently it was kind of a bummer when I didn't really care for this wine. I didn't HATE it. It was okay. I just didn't LOVE it. Truth be told, there was a thin-ness to this wine overtop the flavours that I didn't care for. I hoped for a sturdy handshake, but ended up with one of those wet-noodle handshakes that makes your face screw up just a little bit.

It's summer weather, and I've been craving juicy reds. I also wanted my next pick to be big and fruity so Dad could get more enjoyment out of it (his sense of smell is pooched and relies soley on his sense of taste to enjoy wine). So a-Zinfandel-huntin' I went and came back with Ironstone 2008 Vintage Old Vine Zinfandel. I got what I asked for; this wine was jammin' like it was the Mariposa festival. I felt that the tannins were a bit more pronounced than I expected, but I also didn't let it air out for very long, so my bad. I will forewarn you though; despite the fact that Dad and I shared and there is still nearly half the bottle left, I woke up hurtin' this morning. I've dragged this morning wondering what the hell was wrong with me, but a peek at the bottle's label confirmed my suspicions: 14.5% alcohol. Oh my!

Closing note: I picked up a copy of Karen MacNeil's Wine Bible (I sell it in my store!) and now you know what I'll be doing this summer! This book is as thick as your arm, and full of extremely cool wine facts, which I will be only too glad to share with you from time to time.

That's all folks. Time to chase away my 2 glass hangover!

B.

The Wine Shoe!

Thanks to my friend Jackie Lee who sent me this link! It's an amazing video of a person opening a bottle of wine with a shoe! I promise you, I will try this, record it and post it for your amusement.

http://www.wimp.com/wineshoe/

Enjoy!

Birthday horizontal tasting!

Helllooooo! This is me after a horizontal tasting...or should I say a horizontal drinking. Can I tell you right off the bat if you're truly interested in setting up a horizontal tasting you should do just that: taste, not drink. By the end I could taste nothing. My tongue was numb. And I've made 11 typos in the last 3 sentences that I've had to go back and correct. So it's very bad for the tongue and fingers to swallow (there's a dirty joke in there somewhere).

So kittens, it's my birthday. Thirty-eight. 3-8. Yup. Lookout 40, I'm coming at lightening speed. I am currently looking for a wrinkle in time that allows me to leap backwards ten years, but in the meantime I vow to continue to enjoy all of the loveliest life has to offer. And really, is 38 so bad? Is 40 so bad? Is 50? As long as you're healthy and there's plenty of good wine, can you really complain?

I certainly had no complaints about my evening. We dined at Chez Maurice, where Karen set up my very first horizontal tasting. Thank-you, Karen, for taking my horizontal tasting virginity in the most pleasant way imaginable! Roses (how do I insert accents? Someone tell me! I can't properly write Rose without it! Shall I spell it phonetically? Rose-EH!) were on the table. Three different regions, all the same year (2009).

So let's start with my expectations. My history with pink wine is short: President's Pink champagne (barf) and Ernst & Julio Gallo Zinfandel (also barf). Never having tried a real rose, I didn't know what to expect exactly, except I guess I thought I'd be drinking something sweeter. Soooo not the case. I was careful to take notes (though my handwriting suffered by the third bottle. Think prude, Barb. Spit, don't swallow next time!) All wines were purchased at the LCBO in Barrie on Bayfield St.

#1:Fielding Estate Rose VQA. This is a Niagara wine; grape varietals are a mix of Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Saugvinon.
It smelled like: lovely (but very cold on the first few sniffs) Peach? Melon? Pear?
It tasted like: Nothing like it smelled! Totally different, how wierd! Very, very, very rhubarb to my taste. Off-dry.
Colour: Watermeloney.
Thoughts: Not yummy cold. Needed warming up a bit to be enjoyed. Not my favouritist ever, but at least it didn't smell like throw-up.

#2: Menage a Trois (apologies once again for the lack of proper accents) Folie a Deux Rose 2009. This is a Californian wine, from the Napa Valley. It's a blend of Merlot, Syrah, and Gewurztraminer.
It smelled like: CANDY!
Colour: PINK!
It tasted like: CANDY--sort of. Flavours themselves rang sweet, but this was not a sweet wine. Made for a really interesting vibration on the palate. I got tropical fruit (passionfruit?), floral, cherry and apple off of this wine. Off-dry.
Thoughts: These people are making a thoughtful wine. Not totally my bag, but I appreciate what they're doing.

#3: Chateau la Tour de l'Eveque 2009. From Provence. Made from an astonishing 8 grape varietals, most of which I've never heard of: Rolle, Semillion, Ugni-Blanc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Mourvedre, Syrah, Grenache and Cinsault.
It smelled like: Perfume, floral. Very faint scent.
It tasted like: Very faint taste. Maybe it was me having drank a few fingers worth of the previous two, but I had a really difficult time making anything of this wine. Gardeney and herbey, but quietly so. Karen called it a vacuous blonde. Off-dry.
Colour: Pale, pale passionfruit tint.
Thoughts: After tasting, we decided this was our least favourite, so into the risotto went the entire bottle. And I have to say, it was the best damned risotto I've ever had.

The winner? The Menage a Trois (are you really surprised?). The Niagara wine 2nd, the French wine 3rd. We drank the winner, used the loser to cook with, and we still have almost an entire bottle of the runner up to go through at a later date.

So the lesson in this, my pets, is rose is probably not what you think it is. It's dry. Like waaaay more dry than I thought it would be. So if you're drinking this stuff, have it with greasy food so it balances out. But don't eat really greasy food, 'cause it's bad for you. In that view, skip them both altogether. Move on to the next wine adventure! So many wines to be had! So little time to enjoy them!

I'll post our dinner menu in the morning, 'cause I'm bagged and it's time to hit the hay. 'Til next time, wine lovers!

B.