CUPCAKE SAUVIGNON BLANC (2011)—A quickie review because my head got bashed against the floor about 20 times this morning

My Fellow Inebriates,

The morning started with football. And I was the football. First P put a bracelet around my neck (so I’d be a pretty football). Then she and V had a tug-of-war (oh yes, with me) to see who got to throw me first. Then they beaned each other and the floor with me for ten minutes.

What were our parents doing? My dad was staring at his phone and halfheartedly telling them to stop. And OMG, my mother was making lunch for the kids, of all things. She couldn’t be bothered to intervene.

By now you know that I’ll be asking for wine. Such an incident demands wine. So what’ve we got?


CUPCAKE CABERNET SAUVIGNON (2011). With a name like that, a wine should be plump and comforting—a blast of heavy fruit riding on a 13.5% alcohol wave.

CUPCAKE was pretty much like that exactly. It’s sweet and enveloping—about as sophisticated as P and V’s understanding of kindness to animals—but nonetheless reasonably yummy and thankfully short on the gaminess we’ve found in our last few reds. CUPCAKE delivers the requisite comfort needed after a morning of animal abuse.

I’m sharing it with Purple Bunny, who got evicted from P’s bed today after she decided to put away childish things. Despite making a statement to this effect, P then proceeded to listen to Katy Perry.

PUrplebunny copy

“Katy Perry sucks.”

She also cast Speedy out of her room. You remember Speedy, right? He could probably use a big glass of CUPCAKE. He liked it.



OGOPOGO’S LAIR PINOT GRIGIO (2011)—Surprisingly delicate choice for a sea monster

My Fellow Inebriates,

My mother has produced an extremely belated Christmas present for yours truly—unwrapped as it happens—and a transparently obvious excuse to have a drink tonight while everybody else is on Vancouver Island. You see, my mother gets a bit freaked out by the noises our old house makes, and the only cure for that is to get drunk.

Ogopogo's Lair

Calling it my Christmas present and giving it to me on January 1 is rich, MFI, don’t you think? There I was on Christmas morning, on my best behaviour beside the Christmas tree, and there was nothing—sweet nothing for this little bear. But when my mother gets the urge to have a drink…Merry Christmas, LB, look what I got you! You don’t mind if I drink it with you, do you, little buddy?

Luckily for her I don’t mind. The bottle in question is called OGOPOGO’S LAIR PINOT GRIGIO (2011), produced by Ganton & Larsen Prospect Winery in Kelowna, British Columbia.

Named for the fabulous creature that inhabits Okanagan Lake, this wine pours a delicate peachy-straw colour that makes my fur look dirty by comparison. So light and inviting is this Pinot that you might be tempted to upend the bottle, but it is lovely to look at in the glass, wafting bright citrus and fresh orchard tones.

Thank you Wikipedia. We have a pic somewhere of my friend Scary riding the Ogopogo but it's gone missing :(

Thank you Wikipedia. We have a pic somewhere of my friend Scary riding the Ogopogo but it’s gone missing 😦

I wouldn’t have associated such a wine with the Ogopogo. I’d have taken that beast for a whisky drinker—a Laguvulin fan probably. But this is a Christmas present out of nowhere, so I’ll take it. Let’s find out how it tastes, my fellow inebriates.

OMG, it is lovely. Fresh and nicely balanced, with deliciously crisp acidity and a flirty finish, OGOPOGO’S LAIR is delightful. I think my mother should have bought me two bottles, don’t you? Especially since Fluffy Bear and I are planning to make tons of scary noises tonight, and she’ll need to be completely wrecked if she wants to miss that.

MONASTERIO DE LAS VINAS (2006)—Needs no elevator pitch

My dad is considering switching industries, which means he’s been paying some overdue attention to his business speak. It occurred to him this week that he doesn’t have an “elevator pitch.” If you don’t know what an elevator pitch* is, read on, my fellow inebriates, because everyone should have one. As I said tauntingly to my dad, even I have one:

drunken little bear

advising hedonism:

party on, people

He says this is actually a haiku, but whatever, people. My dad doesn’t have an elevator pitch at all. So today I learned how to write a proper one, because I love my dad, plus I want him to bring even more liquor money home, and a good elevator pitch will help. Herewith, the five steps to writing a good elevator pitch—in this case applied to a bottle of wine.

Monasterio de las Vinas

1. Who are you?

I’m MONASTERIO DE LAS VINAS RESERVA (2006), a Spanish blend of Garnacha, Tempranillo, and Carinena, aged 12 months in oak barrels.

2. What do you do?

I exude aromas of berry and spice while leering from the decanter in a purplish way while LB’s parents make him wait to sample me. On the palate I’m full-bodied and rich with earthy notes, firm tannins, and a long finish. I’m mature without having a musty Old World character, and you can’t really beat me for $14.95.

3. Who do you do it for?

I’d like to say I appeal to all drinkers, but I don’t think hard-core alcoholics (LB excepted) are buying me very often, as they gravitate toward massive jugs of vodka and giant boxes featuring marsupials. Basically, I’m here for everybody, but if you like to spread your $14.95 more economically, you might pass me by.

4. What do they want or need?

Most wine drinkers have no idea we have hit “peak wine,” and that global demand for  wine is outstripping supply. In other words, you might be drinking wine because everybody else is. Some wine drinkers choose wine because they think beer will make them get fat or watch hockey. Some wine drinkers follow Robert Parker, who gave me 90 points, although he probably only swished me around his gums for 30 seconds or so. Drinkers like LB are thoroughly indiscriminate, so who knows? I have no idea what people want.

5. How do they change as a result?

They often get really freaking plastered, especially if they have a bottle to themselves.

Okay, so this isn’t working out exactly as I thought it would. Maybe you need to be sentient, like we are, MFI. This last statement—and I hope you’ve been following along with your own notes for this exercise, my fellow inebriates—this last statement is supposed to be the key to YOU and what you bring to the table. If you answer the five questions, you should be able to take your answer to number five—and voila! There’s your elevator pitch.

I expect my dad will be so grateful for this that he’ll buy me another bottle.


*I found these five steps in a Tedx talk but then foolishly cleared my cache and couldn’t retrieve it from my history. The reason I cleared my cache is that I didn’t want my dad to know I was playing Candy Crush Saga on Facebook, especially since I’ve been dissing him for playing it. And then there was all the porn too, but whatever.