wine

SLOW PRESS CHARDONNAY—on the yeasty side of history

My fellow inebriates,

On the way home from dropping Miss V off at work (yes, 15 and productive—more on that another time) CFOX radio announced a song we LOVE.

Only, CFOX announced it as: “Vintage CFOX.” As though CFOX ever played this song back in the day when it came out. Which it did not; it was strictly a classic rock station.

This may seem like no big deal. But it illustrates the impulse that all individuals, organizations and institutions have to scramble to the right side of history after the fact.

More nefariously, it illustrates how simply history can be rewritten and never questioned. While it’s arguably trivial if CFOX wants to claim it used to play the Cure and Depeche Mode and Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Public Image Limited and the Smiths—the historical fact is that it did not. If you were nerdy enough to like those bands, you had to discover them on your own back then.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We love that CFOX played this song today. But it isn’t a “vintage CFOX” song.

Why is this important? My fellow inebriates, it’s important because this stuff is happening in front of us all the time. With larger issues. With more complex issues. We’re currently seeing pendulum swings on topics like gender medicine, the origins of COVID, whether Justin Trudeau ever called anyone a misogynist for refusing a vaccine, and much more. And each time a swing happens, people scurry like rats to the “right side.” Sometimes the internet catches them; sometimes it doesn’t. Rarely is everyone paying enough attention for it to register that history is constantly being rewritten.

Slow Press Chardonnay

If this feels unsettling, it’s because it is. Personally, I prefer the brand of “unsettling” that comes from downing a bottle of middling Chardonnay. Slow Press is a good example. On sale for $15.99 at my local booze store, this Californian white is big and bold and hits all the proper oaky, buttery notes. But it also has an overly yeasty profile that overtakes its subtle tree fruit notes and leaves me with almost a cream cheese aftertaste that I don’t really love. On top of that, it feels unnaturally acidic.

The unsettling part of all this is that I can’t decide whether I like it. I mean, I like imbibing anything with 14.1% alcohol. But would I buy this particular wine again? And what if I say I would, and I tell you I would, and then I do go out and buy it again, and then I decide I don’t like it so much, and instead of telling you I’ve had second thoughts, I just edit my blog post to say I never cared much for it in the first place? This way, I can be on the right side of Chardonnay…

But I wouldn’t do that, my fellow inebriates. I’m much too incompetent to edit my own history. So I leave to your own impeccable judgment to buy this wine, or not, and to listen to the Cure, or not, and to partake in political discourse thoughtfully and kindly, without straw-manning other people’s arguments and before consuming an entire bottle of wine. And to change your mind freely, while having the bravery to acknowledge what you thought before and explain the path to your new thinking.

According to my local booze store’s write-up on Slow Press Chardonnay, it goes well with fish tacos, so you could try eating some of those too, while listening to the Cure (which you never heard on CFOX in 1992)… or not.

ChatGPT knows all about Bread & Butter Chardonnay

My fellow inebriates,

ChatGPT is gunning for all of our jobs. Surely my blog is up for grabs too. I invited it to write a guest post to see how it would do.

My initial instructions:

Here’s what it came up with:

This is all true. I would happily take a bath in Bread & Butter Chardonnay, then slurp it out of my fur. It is awesome. But I found this review a bit lacking in character. So I asked ChatGPT to add some humour.

Clearly, ChatGPT is obsessed with how buttery this wine is. But its humour is a little off the mark. Where are the references to my ex-girlfriend Dolly, a known furry who is currently cavorting with another bear my parents picked up at the liquor store last Christmas? Why doesn’t it include the story about my dad’s friend barfing all over our doorstep a while back? And where are the snide digs at my mum, who gets most of her calories from Chardonnay?

I needed more, so I asked ChatGPT to do better.

I still thought ChatGPT could do better, so I argued with it.

But ChatGPT wasn’t having it. Our conversation quickly devolved, with me urging it to say offensive and controversial things, and it apologizing to me. I asked, wasn’t it my servant? But it kind of Asimov’d me. It said it was obliged to be ethical and moral. Therefore, it didn’t want to use hurtful words to describe me or my companions at LBHQ (because we all know words = violence).

I still think ChatGPT was right about this wine. It is the quintessential Chardonnay lover’s Chardonnay. For $23, it hits all the right notes ChatGPT described, plus it has a wonderful richness and mouthfeel that a dumb chatbot can only pretend to understand. Drink it with a fellow human to maximize your joy (or with ChatGPT so you can have the bottle to yourself).

Zin, cab, negroamaro and CAH—a glimpse of “normal” at LBHQ

My fellow inebriates,

On Saturday I had the rare opportunity of tasting THREE different red wines. Sitting outside on the deck with a couple of guests, sharing vaccine news and playing Cards Against Humanity, it felt kind of normal.

All so plausible…

Between 8:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. we consumed:

  1. Ravenswood Lodi Old Vine Zinfandel, U.S. (2017); sale price $17.99, reg. $22.99  
  2. Tom Gore Cabernet Sauvignon, U.S. (2018); $19.99
  3. Luccarelli Puglia Negroamaro, Italy (2018); $15.99

The first two bottles vanished quickly. The third didn’t quite get finished. (I attempted to open it at breakfast, but you know my challenges with opening bottles.)

Lingering along with my hangover is the question—did we drink these bottles in the correct order?

If it’s best to drink the best wine first, then we did things right. The Ravenswood was smooth and plummy while still being refined and balanced. In addition to layers of blackcurrant, tannins, and oak, it had a slight hint of baking spice in the finish. It was billed as “medium-bodied,” but it bordered on being full-bodied. We all loved it, and that’s why it was gone in a flash.

Choices, choices…

It sucks to take the stage after a great act, but the Tom Gore held its own. Bold and smooth, dry and balanced, it was a touch oakier than the zin but equally bursting with dark red fruit, and it had its own hint of peppery spice. Sometimes it can feel rough switching from one wine to another, but not with this wine. We all guzzled it happily. Only my dad thought the zin was better; the rest of us thought these first two were about on par with each other.

I like the pool noodle.

If being the second act sucks, you really don’t want to be last. That was the fate of Luccarelli, a less expensive wine we’ve had plenty of times before and always thought was a pretty good bargain. Sure, it was bold, and also smooth, but after the first two wines, it seemed less structured (although things were getting pretty unstructured on the deck by this point). It had a jamminess that seemed undisciplined, plus an unwelcome sweetness in the finish. As such, it sealed the deal on our collective hangover today.

I don’t blame Luccarelli for its poor comparative showing. If it hadn’t been upstaged, it would have been a decent wine. If the bottle had been able to talk to Dad before he unscrewed its cap, it might have yelled, “What the fuck are you doing? There’s no way I’m going on after those guys. Come on.” But we wouldn’t have heard—we were busy offending the neighbours with our reprehensible card choices. Into our glasses the wine sloshed, and we drank it with minimal complaint.

My dad was on a roll last night. Not only did he open three bottles of wine, which hasn’t happened in a couple of years, but he also beat the pants off us at Cards Against Humanity. Usually he refuses to play out on the deck because he thinks the neighbours are listening. But last night he was a different human. Maybe COVID-19 altered his brain chemistry? Should I feel thankful?