Pssst! FINCA LOS PRIMOS TORRONTES (2011) is cheap and good

My Fellow Inebriates,

It’s light, fruity, pleasantly refreshing with not one bad note. Cheap and delicious at $9.98 (that’s cheap here in Canada). For that price you should buy a case and get really loaded.

This wine deserves a better review, and it will get one! (Or a least,  a longer one.) But not until my parents decide to do my typing, damn it. My paws suck!

Here’s what FINCA LOS PRIMOS TORRONTES (2011) looks like.

finca los primos torrontes

And here’s one of the People of Walmart.


Having a budget is important. Walmart can help, and so can FINCA LOS PRIMOS.

CRIOS TORRONTES (2011)—Good enough to attract the undead

My Fellow Inebriates,

It appears Granny doesn’t need Fluffy any more; she’s loose in the house and no longer requires a furry vessel.

Go ahead. Roll your eyes. But last night at 3:00am both kids woke up screaming.

Usually, if this happens, my dad wakes up first. In contrast to all the other mothers in the world who are famously sensitive to their little ones’ cries, my mother goes into a coma when she sleeps, and by the time she’s aware of their distress (if she even becomes aware) my dad’s already parked himself on the floor between their two beds and resigned himself to an uncomfortable hour while they settle down.

Tough luck for my mum—Dad’s in Vegas this week. Who knows how long the kids had to scream to rouse her; I didn’t hear it myself. (I don’t sleep in my parents’ room [for fear of witnessing Unspeakable Acts].) I was downstairs, passed out after an irresistible glass of CRIOS TORRONTES (2011). But she finally dragged herself into the girls’ room and sprawled between their beds.

On the floor she was oppressed by dreams of Granny, who demanded—in the only dream my mother could remember particularly—whether she had watered the plant. (She hadn’t.)

But why do I suspect Granny’s ghost has decoupled itself from Fluffy? It seems to need to be somewhere; it wasn’t here until Fluffy arrived from Ireland, which makes me think it hitchhiked, which makes me think she needed a place to reside for the voyage. It’s just that lately…lately Fluffy’s started seeming kind of normal, maybe even cool. He hasn’t given off that freaky golem aura in a while. He hangs out with the bears; he watches Breaking Bad with us…he’s okay.

So why did Granny ditch him? And where is she now?

The first question is easy. Summer will drive our thermostat beyond 38°C (that’s over 100°F). Fluffy’s the fluffiest, most insulated animal who ever entered the house. His body will be purgatory for any occupant spirits. In fact, a paranormal squatter would be only slightly less desperate than Fluffy himself. Granny must have vamoosed.

What confirms this is the thermostat itself. We bears have been razzing Fluffy about his thick pelt and warning him that Langley ain’t Northern Ireland—he’s gonna suffer when the mercury rises. So he’s been getting stressed out. And the day Dad left for Vegas, the thermostat quit. I think Fluffy accidentally destroyed it with his mind just by fretting about his impending suffering. And Granny herself—well, she’s visited Langley in summer before, so she knows what it’s like; she probably deked out at that moment, leaving Fluffy in sole charge of his paranormally amplified faculties and nuking our thermostat.

So Granny is bumping around the house sans Fluffy and messing with everybody’s REM sleep. OMG! Why? How long do the dead hang around? Isn’t there some notion about them going somewhere? Or is there unfinished business here?

Personally, and you may find this cynical, I think she may well have been on her way into the ether when we bought BEEFEATER 24. Granny was pretty easygoing about her booze, so she wouldn’t quibble about whether it was the family gin of my mother’s childhood or a tea-infused 2008 bid for more market share. It was BEEFEATER, damn it, and when 750mL of it arrived in the house, she decided to stay. And my mum sealed the deal by also buying a delectable white wine. Why would Granny go anywhere with CRIOS TORRONTES in the house?

A Staff Pick at our neighborhood booze shop, CRIOS TORRONTES had been giving us come hither looks for months. The only thing delaying the purchase was my dad, who’s not keen on white wine. My mum bought it within an hour of dropping him off at the airport—that’s how keen we both were to try it. And with good reason.

Intensely aromatic, CRIOS TORRONTES exudes peach—not the gently rotting peach of a Unibroue beer but rapturously fresh peach backed up by subtler orchard fruits. These generous fragrances hint of fruit hedonism—out-of-control sweetness and mayhem in the mouth. But CRIOS TORRONTES is faking you out with those orgiastic aromas. Sip it, and instead of being overwhelmed, you are drawn into a beguiling off-dry symphony of flavors, delicately structured with all the fruity exuberance of a good Sauvignon Blanc—but in a bigger-bodied, sultry, and lingering Torrontes. As it rises from fridge temperature, CRIOS TORRONTES becomes even more appealing, continuing to waft gorgeous peach and melon while spreading across the palate with elegant pacing and controlled generosity.

I’m thinking we need to pound this wine tonight and chase it with the BEEFEATER 24 so these libations are not hanging around when everybody goes to sleep. As much as I liked Granny, her visits are freaking me out.


My Fellow Inebriates,

I spent all morning twitching with the urge to steal an idea from The Dissemination of Thought. Coupled with a Tannat-related headache and dehydration, this compulsion troubled me. I feel bad when I swipe things, and worse for not thinking of them first. But let’s face it—no one’s expecting nobility from an alcoholic animal. And really, it’s TDoT’s fault, isn’t it? If he hadn’t disseminated such a topical thought, I wouldn’t have felt like purloining it.

If you haven’t clicked the links yet, here’s the gist: There are types of Facebook users ranging from the Whinger to the Liker and everything in between—and those types are annoying.

I probably could have generated my own idea for the blog today had I not drunk so much LAS MORAS TANNAT (2008) last night. But I woke up with a rough headache this morning, which probably relates less to the wine than to the quantity consumed.

I’d never tried the Tannat varietal before—at least not knowingly, as it is typically a blending grape. Increasingly it’s being planted in Argentina, Australia and the US, though, so you’ll probably start seeing more Tannats on the booze-store shelves over the next few years. At 14% the Argentine LAS MORAS certainly caused bedspins and kept me from checking in with Facebook’s Wrestler Unstoppable, which meant my avatar “LB the Alcoholic Bear” got his ass kicked while I slept the wine off.

Our local booze-store consultant steered my dad toward this $14.99 product. She (and the bottle label) suggested decanting it an hour before drinking it, instructions my dad texted to my mum from the kids’ bedroom where he was patiently waiting for them to nod off, not knowing she would ignore her phone. So when he came downstairs the bottle was still sealed, and we commenced drinking it without letting it breathe. The wine did get a chance to open up over the next 90 minutes, but truthfully it didn’t change much in that timespan.

For full-bodied red wine fans, LAS MORAS won’t disappoint. Intensely dark with an admirable fruit/oak balance, it strikes a satisfying tannic chord with soft fruits up front and chocolate/bread in behind. If you love this note, you’ll be very happy, but if you prefer a wine that develops more dynamically in the glass and on the tongue, you’ll find yourself curiously underwhelmed by its lack of range.

Perhaps this explains why Tannat grapes are so often supporting players in cabs and malbecs rather than carrying the whole show. LAS MORAS lacks complexity; the sip doesn’t differ much from the swallow, yet it strums a fully satisfactory note. It would be a great wine for events where the focus is on socializing or a meal because it holds no surprises and it doesn’t assert itself in an intriguing way.

Much like most of the status updates on Facebook. My wrestler is just about the only reason I use Facebook. I update my status every few weeks or so, and of course I make a nuisance of myself with blog updates, but otherwise I barely pay attention to it.

When my parents first opened a Facebook account for me, they thought it was a pretty novel idea. Haha, look at that, a bear! Can you imagine? Bet nobody’s done that before!

We quickly learned that plenty of people had done it before. Within a day I had dozens of friend requests from stuffies of every animal species. I couldn’t keep up, and actually stopped accepting them. So much for being original.

Here’s my current FB friend breakdown (roughly):

  • 305 bears including pandas and koalas despite their differing chromosomal count
  • 166 other animals
  • 149 people
  • 24 friends/relatives of my parents
  • 45 deviants, including furries and inanimate objects (“Corporal James Shittington,” “Bill’s Toaster,” “Head of Bathroom Security,” etc.)

There’s considerable cross-pollination between categories—i.e. “Daemonic Bear” and “Archie Candypants” fall arbitrarily into the bear category, but they could just as easily be deviants.

You’d think the status updates would be pretty overwhelming, but it’s surprisingly quiet on my FB wall. That’s because most of the stuffie accounts are inactive; their humans opened the accounts many years ago for a giggle and never pursued it any further.

Which means most of the status updates I read are from Whingers, Likers, Lovers (thank you, DToS) and a few more additional ones that plague me in particular:

The Stuffie Lover. “Bunny wunny wuvz you, snuggwy wuggwy!” These animals have too much time on their paws. Like DToS’s Lovers, they favor the third-person. I wish they’d finally wear out the “W” key with their saccharine updates.

Posted to shock. Watch me shrug.

The Shock-Value Addict. “I’ve got a freshly scrubbed, clean-as-a-whistle anus.” Uh-huh.

Danglers. “Going for medical tests today…” Um, so do you want people to ask? Are you going to live?

Show-offs. “Four-course meal devoured and cleaned up, washing done, homework finished, kids in bed—ahhhh!” Congratulations. I guess I won’t call Child Services.

Threateners. “Time for a purge. If we haven’t talked lately, I’m unfriending you. Contact me if you want to stay.” OMG! How ignominious to be unfriended by you. Uh, who are you again?

Food Photographers. “Brining the turkey.” “Dogs on the barbie—mmmm!” I have no idea what some of these people look like, but for some reason I’ve seen their cookies.

Wingnuts who assume everyone shares their agenda. “Bleetched the sheat and dug out my pointty hat, y’all—who’s comming with?” Oh dear, when did I accept that friend request? I must have been on a red wine bender. Guess it’s time for a purge.

If you haven’t already checked out The Dissemination of Thought, what are you waiting for? Open a bottle of LAS MORAS TANNAT and sip contentedly. This wine won’t try to get your attention—it won’t distract you from this interesting and original blog.