liquor

GRAY FOX CHARDONNAY (2010)—choice of sociopaths

My Fellow Inebriates,

Last year my mum caused me spasms of horror by pouring a bottle of Henkell Trocken over the roasting Christmas turkey. (Henkell Trocken is really not for that, people—it’s citrusy and dry with good acidity.) I died inside when she did that, so this year she had a little mercy on me and opted for a dirt-cheap bottle of chardonnay instead.

Gobbling up a hand

I did try to persuade her not to do it at all. But my mother can be very cutting. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, “Sometimes I look at you and suspect you’re inanimate.” Then she opened the oven and poured a bottle of GRAY FOX chardonnay all over the bird.

I did get a small glass before the culinary sacrifice. But I wasn’t optimistic; $6.99 is just about as cheap as wine gets at my local booze shop, and at that price I expect a tastebud offensive, a chorus of plonky mismatched notes with manure and hell-knows-what-else in the background.

So it was a relief to find that GRAY FOX chardonnay tastes like…white grape juice. Really.

With orchard fruitiness dominating the nose and very little of the excessive oak that’s typical of a try-hard California chardonnay, GRAY FOX qualifies as mostly harmless. It won’t make you retch, nor will it appeal to you with complexity and butteriness. At 12% alcohol it sure kicks Welch’s Grape Juice’s ass, yet it seems like too much of a kissing cousin to that kid-friendly beverage. Forgive me, but it doesn’t taste done. Now, you guys know I’m an idiot with a furry mouth and not a ghost of an oenophile’s qualifications, but this wine tastes like it needed to ferment a little longer. It’s grapey, and I’m not sure how intentional that was on the part of the vintner.

I told my mum GRAY FOX would make a good gateway wine for children, only to get the obligatory reminder that I mustn’t encourage irresponsible drinking. So I’ll put it this way: Kids would really like this wine, but don’t give it to them.

But don’t throw it all over a turkey either—OMG, what a waste of alcohol. The fact that my mum thought it made good gravy doesn’t make it okay. But when a sociopathic hausfrau covered in giblets and poultry grease seizes a wine bottle, you just have to let her do her thing.

ASTROLIQUOR for Dec. 23-29

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

It’s time to do all the chores you’ve been neglecting, Aries, which means cleaning up all the rum. What a mess a liquor cabinet becomes when it contains too many partially used bottles. Get drinking and finish some off. Sure, it’s early, but it’s also the holiday season, so you can do whatever you want. Oh yeah, and you’re going to lose a crapload of money gambling this week. Try to spend your casino money on white rum.

Taurus, you need to make a crazy party punch full of all kinds of fruits and juices AND—don’t forget this part—a gallon each of Everclear, Smirnoff and Sailor Jerry’s. Throw some triple sec in for character and you’re ready for the holidays. Sounds like a big quantity? Not really—you just have to start at breakfast. BTW, you are going to run out of money making this, and there won’t be any more until February.

You’ve been drunk for a long time, Gemini. So drunk that one morning you wake up and can’t recognize anybody. This is a great thing—an invaluable opportunity to reinvent yourself. And the best way to do that is to make new friends at the bar. Try buying them Smirnoff & Midori melon drinks.

Get your affairs in order, Cancer, so you can relax. Once you take care of business, you can turn your attention to making bizarre drinks for yourself and whatever weirdos you pick up around town. Here’s a good one: 4 cups lager + 1 cup sherry…with melon balls thrown into it, floating around. Yum, right?

I see a bar fight for you this week, Leo, featuring an angry Aquarius. Don’t worry; you’ll have a threesome with a Taurus and a Capricorn later in the week. Give yourself a preemptive spank with this creation:

  • 1.5 oz banana schnapps
  • 1.5 oz vanilla vodka
  • 1 oz Bacardi 151

Don’t eat too much this week, Virgo. Why eat when you can sustain yourself with tequila? If the room starts to spin, go out for a nice walk. All sorts of people will laugh at you as you stagger along. Think of it as holiday spirit, not ridicule because you forgot to put on pants.

Libra, there are some voices in your head telling you to do hectic, seasonal things like cook a turkey. Don’t listen to them! You have drinks to mix, and if you consume enough of them, you’ll be off the hook for cooking duty. Here’s a drink recipe to start:

  • 1 cup sweet-and-sour mix
  • 3 oz melon liqueur
  • 2 oz Blue Curacao
  • 2 oz amaretto
  • 2 oz raspberry vodka
  • Lots of ice

Yes, it’s a big quantity, but you can do it.

People are starting to bore you, Scorpio. This is compounded by the fact that you’ve pulled Designated Driver duty this week. Take it seriously and abstain while you’re out, but once you’ve dropped your boring friends off, hit the vodka (with Jagermeister and Goldschlager of course).

Sagittarius, everything feels like it’s against you, but try to remember it’s been worse before. Ride out this depressive episode in bed with a tumbler of Irish whiskey beside you.

You are being watched, Capricorn. You’re not imagining it, and the watcher is a Scorpio. Don’t ignore this seemingly creepy person; he/she may have something useful for you, whether it be a job or casual sex. Your drink is amaretto—put it in everything.

You’re changing mentally, Aquarius, and not necessarily for the best. People around you are noticing and wondering whether you’re in some sort of destructive spiral. They wonder if it will be like a road accident to watch, or whether you’ll give them a laugh on your downward trajectory. Since no sort of psychological implosion is complete without alcohol, here’s a colorful recipe:

  • 3 oz lemon vodka
  • 2 oz melon liqueur
  • 1 oz Blue Curacao
  • 1 oz lemon or lime juice
  • 2 oz sweet-and-sour mix

Blend it up with ice. Never mind other people.

Pisces, you’re getting annoyed at others’ shirking of responsibilities. Clearly, you are too sober. If you had sufficient alcohol levels, you wouldn’t care whether your coworkers were working or whether the kid at Starbucks knows how to make a latte. Get on the festive train and stop pissing on everybody’s parade. Vodka martinis for you ASAP.

BROKER’S GIN—Part 4!

My Fellow Inebriates,

I received another lovely note from Julia Gale of Broker’s Gin the other day mentioning she’d been ill and sending holiday greetings. I know exactly what it’s like to feel ill, as I frequently inflict it upon myself, so I send her my most positive, healing wishes.

If I keep mentioning Julia, it’s because the boys who run Broker’s have decided to leave her at home when they visit in the New Year to address the Broker’s drought here in British Columbia. Now, if I were running Broker’s Gin I would certainly include someone as warm and thoughtful as Julia in my Canadian delegation. (Of course, if I were running Broker’s Gin, there would be no gin in stock, obviating the delegation.)

Still, I wonder how to entertain these English chaps once they arrive. There isn’t much in my neighborhood besides Walmart and Costco, although there are a few seedy bars that might do in a pinch. There’s also a scruffy-looking casino, which might be our best bet.

If their gin consumption isn’t so far gone that they eschew eating like yours truly, perhaps I’ll invite them over for some breakfast. According to the kids, my mum is okay at making pancakes, although her omelets are wretched. She won’t mind stringing on an apron, I’m sure, and serving the three of us while we discuss how to re-introduce Broker’s Gin into western Canada. I will make sure we have some grapefruit juice to combine with their fine gin.

The visit is still a couple of weeks away, besides which it never pays to over-plan things, so I’ll just sit tight until the gentlemen contact me.