My fellow inebriates,
First we got sick.
Then they closed the borders.
Then they shut down the bars.
Now they’ve closed the schools…indefinitely.
In adjusting to this new normal, I almost forgot it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Thankfully, I have some liquor to cry my bear tears into.
Writer’s Tears Copper Pot Still ($63 at my local booze store) is a blend of single malt and single pot still Irish whiskies that’s aged in American bourbon barrels, resulting in a mild, smooth flavour. It’s golden in the glass and slightly leggy.
On the nose Writer’s Tears is subtle but well layered with apples, vanilla and hints of citrus. It has an undeniable freshness to it that’s at odds with the image of a miserable writer confined to an attic. Perhaps the tearful writer in question is a young bear whose paws are too effing useless to punch the keys without his parents’ help.
On the palate Writer’s Tears is rewarding—you get all those lovely orchard notes along with sweet honey and a more muted array of delicately layered spice and floral contributions. The mouthfeel is smooth and coating without being cloying.
If you’re stuck in your attic or basement or even your kitchen, desperately trying to write a novel or come up with a witty tweet, you should break out the Writer’s Tears. And if you don’t have any, you should run to the liquor store and purchase some, because—OMG, my fellow inebriates—what if they shut that down?
My fellow inebriates,
Every so often, Mum and I go to our local booze shop (I ride in her purse) and pick out bottle of wine. I salivate as she pays with her debit card. Usually, that wine becomes an accompaniment to Netflix after the kids finally consent to go to bed. Then… ahhhh!
Today, however, my mother bought—in addition to a bottle of ROBERT MONDAVI PRIVATE SELECTION CHARDONNAY (2016)—a turquoise gift bag. Immediately I knew this wine was not for us; it was for Miss V’s long-suffering grade 5 teacher.
You’d think my mother would have bought two of these bottles so we could also drink to V’s graduation from elementary school—but no luck. You see, my dad hates Chardonnay, so my mother and I would have to drink a whole bottle by ourselves, and that never ends well. So she demurred.
Fortunately I can still share tasting notes because my Nana—who is way cooler than my mother—has brought this wine to our house before. ROBERT MONDAVI PRIVATE SELECTION CHARDONNAY is smooth with ripe fruit aromas and moderate acidity. As you sip, you’ll detect pineapple, green apple, mango, and vanilla. It also has a touch of that butteriness that Chardonnay freaks love.
If I were a teacher I’d drink a bottle of this every night. So (presumably) now Miss V’s teacher has an extra.
You really can’t pay teachers enough, as Breaking Bad taught all of us so long ago.
This week I have a find from our local booze shop’s “Consultant’s Choice” display. (Actually there are TWO such displays. I’m praising the <$20 collection—I’ve never had any from the pricey Consultant’s Choice shelf.) For just $13.99, this fruit-forward, full-bodied Italian wine will make your fur stand on end.
But before I start mouthing off about wine again, a backgrounder on Puglia. I had no idea it existed, my fellow inebriates, until it appeared on the CC shelf. Puglia wine comes from Italy, where almost anything can grow. According to the Internet, if it contains notes of plum, raspberry and anise, the grapes were probably harvested off the back of the heel of the Italian boot. The bottle we tried, LUCCARELLI NEGROAMARO (2016) is a stunning example of Puglia, and one that we intend to buy repeatedly.
This wine has that quality that makes you go “ahhhh.” It makes you want to lick the bottom of the glass (which I’m not allowed to do even though I’m very absorbent).