Interwined: Spain

Well, the banks of Northern Spain (Cajas Duero, Rioja) have finally come through and given me a grant to do several more episodes of Interwined, my wine show.

We sent discs of the first show to all the wine producers involved in the first episode. The trailer is at the end of this blog for readers of Interwined.com, or directly on the page, for myspace readers. Yes this is the first wine blog, not associated with a wine maker or publication, with video...

Guess more video should go online if there's going to be so much trash talking.

Anyway, long story short, one of the winery owners happens to be friends with Spain's Minister of Agriculture and decided to shared the love and show him the episode. And now the government wants more. Mainly to help promote tourism in the regions.

Four months it took, waiting for financial approval... and in all that time they never wised up. Sweet.

Hopefully, blogs will come every other day or so, but shooting these things normally involves 14 to 16-hour work days. Leaving on Sunday 1 October and back in two weeks.

Wish me luck.

Real quick. Expect errors from time to time on this blog, and some are also intentional, in order for you to get your learning on.

Earlier this week, Glen Carlou was called a New Zealand producer from Paarl. Paarl is in South Africa. Thought someone would have caught that, since the article was kinda about South African wines. Kinda. Better luck next time, guys.

But, more alarmingly, no one is clicking my google ads. What's the point of getting filthy rich if it doesn't come from shameless begging? See, the problem right now is that while I may not be close to rich, I make up for it by being filthy.

You know what, you guys are great, I'm going to review a South African wine for you RIGHT NOW! Gimme a sec...

Just let me finish that last sip of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo from Moncaro, 8 pounds from the pizzeria down the street. Mmm, OK. Bit light, but perfect with the pepperoni pizza from last night. The dough was a bit too salty though, but the Italians who made it know more than Dominoes... 8.4 points

The 2003 Tukulu Pinotage, the South African hybrid grape mentioned earlier this week, cost about 7 pounds at Oddbins. There are two words that make little sense to me, (anyone care to explain?) under the Tukulu name reads 'Papkuilsfontein' which would normally indicate some kind of region or vineyard. But there is also another word on the back, 'Groenekloof,' which is probably also a region. Who named these regions, Tolkein?

The wine is neat because is smells of banana, as well as the typical ripe vine fruits of a typical red wine. However, the taste is smokey and oaky. It's really nice for the price. It is a fascinating wine, the body is weak but the structure is strong, just like the Superdome. 8.7 points.

Don't drink with food and cheese will tone it down. Go for it full tilt. Try some bottles of Pinotage, people, and tell me if you think this is a typical taste profile for the grape.

Next stop, Madrid.

This Blog is so Lame

No photos or nothing.

This week's entry is going to be short and sweet, for a good visual aid, just imagine Tattoo from Fantasy Island standing in a bathtub full of sweet coconut milk and hot chocolate.

Don't want to jinx any upcoming projects, so best just to avoid the subject altogether. Will say that later this week, say Thursday, Friday, expect another offering from the wine sit-com script. Also expect twice-weekly updates of note. Say Tuesday and Friday.

Tried to strike out to South Africa, but sought to avoid the big grape from over there: Pinotage, which is a mad-scientist hybrid of Pinot Noir and Cinsault. The evolution of the way various grapes would have tasted way back when and what they are now is a curious issue in the wine industry, especially since the advent of genetic testing. For instance, Zinfandel has been traced to being the love child of Primitivo, the Italian grape. Merlot and Malbec are sometimes considered just about the same grape, from a DNA perspective.

Nonetheless, a good grape vine will reflect the location where it is grown, regardless of what it's double helix tells you, and there should be parallels between the food, people, some say the music, and perhaps, who knows, even the architecture. However, with South Africa it's hard to imagine a specific identity. Still can't get my head around the concept. Wine? From Africa?

Apparently, the vineyards are among the most beautiful in the world.

The one wine sampled showed that identity point exactly. While not terribly bad, the 2005 Wolftrap is an awkward mish-mash of Syrah, Cinsault, Mourvedre and Viognier. The aroma swirls with black pepper and tastes of too much oak. It would be a challenge for any expert to taste it blind and say, "yup, that's a South African blend of red and white grapes." My guess is that they would guess South Australia Shiraz. 8.2 not for flavour, but for lacking guts. Also, it's too early for it to be on the shelves. Too tight, don't drink before 2007. Around 7.50 GBP at Oddbins.

The Glen Carlou, one of my favourite New Zealand wine producers, 2004 Tortoise Hill red is also a blend. Don't think there is Pinot Noir, but can't be sure. They didn't bother putting the info on the label. It's like the fat cats of Paarl are sitting in a smoke-filled conference room, leaning back in leather chairs, puffing on Cuban cigars, saying, "Who gives a damn what grapes are in it?"

Well, we do, and it tastes like there are about three or four varieties… most likely Syrah and Cinsault. Perhaps with some Merlot and Zinfandel, for smoothness and pepper, respectively. (Upon further research, the wine is predominately Cabernet Sauvignon, 69 percent… so big miss there. Syrah is in there, but not Cinsault, at 12.5 percent. Zinfandel and Merlot are there, at nine and four percent… but the big surprise is the Portugese bad boy Tourega Nacional fills out the rest of the bottle.) With all those grapes, it's disappointing… and, oddly, tastes South African.

Berries, fruity, oaky, tannic and tight. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. 8.0, because I expected better. Less than 8 GBP, also at Oddbins.

Got an email from the States:

"Got 2 new bottles. Sweet Bitch from California (9.99) and Justin Vineyards Syrah Paso Robles (25.99) Both 2004. The Sweet Bitch claims "slightly sweet" however, they meant to say "sugary sweet". Almost undrinkable. We may just decide to cook with it."

Don’t do that, the dish you prepare will taste like the crappy wine. Unless you plan to make a coulis, mixed with pureed raspberry, for a cheesecake, or mix it with olive oil to make dressing for a bitter leaf salad.

He continues:

"I am looking forward to the Justin. Our local merchant tells me it's his best selling Syrah. Have you heard anything about it? I am always leery of spending $25 on an unknown. Especially one from California."

My reader was unimpressed with both choices in the end:

"That Justin Syrah 04 was similar to Coppola just twice the price. So I think we shall stick with Coppola."

Almost 35 bucks down the hole. This is especially aggravating because the reader was sold on the bottle by the merchant. Come to think of it why is American wine so expensive? Especially the more popular ones?

At any rate, next time try the Justin 'Isosceles'… it's a Meritage, rhymes with 'heritage,' the pretty Californian name for a wine made with the three main grapes of Bordeaux: Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc and Merlot. Never had a bad bottle of the stuff. Or a single bottle, for that matter. Only ever tried it at wine tastings.

Reading that the wine was too sweet brought a grimace to my face. Sugary sweetness is unpleasant in Noble varieties, it works with Native American grapes, but not European. At any rate, that frown was turned upside down when that image of Tattoo popped back into my mind.

A Visit to the Local Wine Pusher

Have any of you bothered to read the script posted earlier this week? If not keep reading after this entry.

This week continued in the theme of letting go. Wine tasting without fancy pretense. There has to be deeper, darker places to be found with this so-called luxury item. And a trip to the old neighbourhood rediscovered that grit. That true feeling of 'streetness.'

Old digs were around King's Cross. For those who don't know, the man is building a new Eurostar station there. The Waterloo berth will be 86'ed come '07. This construction coincides with all those other smoke and mirror tactics cities throw at vacant swaths of centralised land to justify the billions being spent. The old neighbourhood will soon have new malls, fake rock climbing walls, pay-per-parking stalls… all you need to call a neighbourhood clean.

The police have spent the last three years booting bums and hookers out of the King's Cross area. People who have migrated north, into the old neighbourhood. And, the local kids made sure they didn't stick around for long. Two years ago, there were near daily scenes of 12-year-olds sucker punching hobos, who would never raise their hand in protest, lest they drop their tins of souped-up lager.

Soon enough, the bums had worked their way further north, sadly to Jacob Gaffney's current neighbourhood, leaving the 12-year-olds to return to doing what they do best: stealing bikes.

Stepped off the bus. Headed to the meeting with a wine friend. Passed a group of kids. They smoke weed. The bums have their beer. For me, it's the wine. And that is what I was after.

Walked onto the housing estate where my friend lives. Out of the 80 or so dwellings, good money says he is probably the only one who rents. Sucker.

Popped round and had a chat. Lighting was dark. Music loud. He asked what I wanted. I told him I only had five pounds. He sent his girl upstairs. She came back with a bottle. 2002 Chateau Lafitte Mengin, Premieres Cotes de BORDEAUX.

"It's more than a couple of Euros," he told me, like there was a need for convincing. "Worth more than five quid at any rate."

So there must be a catch, no? "I get to try it with you," he said. Handed a thick glass. Can't taste anything with that. He looks at me, seeing what will happen. "Strong nose," is the predictable venture. A glance over to me says he's thinking that that’s obvious. And it is.

Think, think, think. Can't think with this glass! Can't get my head around it. Thankfully it's a non-smoking flat.

Run to the cupboard. Find the thinnest glass. That'll cut through the muck. Pour it in, swirl it around. Take a sip and breathe. Everything is nice now. Another sip, things get nicer. Still getting looks, thinking, thinking, there is one smell left that is aggravating and hard to place.

"Another Columbine-style shooting," shouts his girl, laptop open to Google news, "this time in Montreal." It's an old trick for a reason, this distraction, probably because it works.

Hmm. Where was I during Columbine? The mind wanders… Oh yes, working at the ABC affiliate in… WAIT! Concentrate. Focus.

Be Serious. If only for the wine's sake.

Another sip. Smell. Taste. Body. FEEL. "Good structure, body a bit heavy, but that's just the oak. Ripe fruits. Vine fruits. Blackberry mainly. Some pepper." But that one, unnamed ingredient is still nagging.

"Blair transition not going as planned," she reads, "Hizbollah claims victory in Middle East conflict." Oh yeah. She's good.

Then it hits me. Clear as day. GREEN BEANS. "Just like your grandmother used to make," I say. The comment gets a giggle. A good giggle. The same knowing laugh that the farmer's daughter slips out the side of her mouth as she sits on the fence watching her pa's animals being led to slaughter.

Feeling sheepish.

"Notable wine writer mistakes green beans for ripe fruit," is the next headline she reads. Damn, it's already online. Happens so fast. Bordeaux 8.5

My friend is more impressed. He agrees.

Time to go. What else is there for a fiver? She goes back upstairs. Rustling about, as if the wine bottles are hidden under 45 layers of taped-up bubble wrap. She hands me the 2002 Beronia Rioja. Crianza. That means it's been aged in oak a bit to mellow the tannin.

Time to say goodbye and out into the rain. The wine bottles sloshing around in my man purse. Standing at a bus stop, something doesn't feel right. Head two stops down, to the one under the overpass. Water drips on either side. A fast train carrying tired souls zips above my head. Even the shadows are intimidating. Now, this is more like it.

Once home, the Spanish Beronia is popped open. Fresh and damp. Predictable and sincere. Oaky and oompfy. With, hold the phone, that characteristic smell of dill. The euphoria washes over. The simplicity of the wine. A choice made just for me. 8.8

May be ten pounds lighter, but feeling all the more richer.

Read the script.

.

Flip the Script

Drinking the 2004 Montana Marlborough Riesling. 6 pounds at Costcutter. Not Bad, but the grape needs a cooler climate. The warmer weather has crowded out the grace and mineral structure of its superior, German counterparts. Stong tropical fruits, pineapple, melon. Light and easy, with a somewhat interesting dry finish that lasts just long enough. 8.5.

About six months ago a guy named Steve at CC Lab was interested in making the wine show. But he wanted some twists. After a few meetings we came up with a format for a wine-themed sit-com, of all things.

In this context, the wine guy would become obsessed with fame during the course of the show. His ignorance, with others correcting him, would provide the backbone for the educational aspects of the show. Reverse-wise, see?

There would be the "film crew" shooting the wine documentary. And then a real film crew filming the documentary "film crew." And then there was a lone writer, unseen, named Martin, who would be personally documenting all that happened on set with his own handheld camera.

You would hear his voice, but never see him. It would be with his handheld digicam that would document why the "show" would eventually fall to pieces, in a testament as to why wine shows never work. The final episodes were to be mish-mashed into a fast-paced, laugh-riddled choatic mess that was supposed to be new and groud-breaking... and, hopefully, award-winning.

So it would be a sit-com about making a wine and travel show, that eventually failed. Or would it?

I wrote the pilot episode and it was never taped. Hate to see it go to waste so here is the first installment.

Anyone out there need a writer for a sit-com, give us a shout: jacobgaffney@yahoo.co.uk

The rest of you enjoy, but, there are still some grammar errors as this was a first draft.

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Interwined: episode 1 (note: maybe start every episode with someone involved in the debacle giving some sort of exasperated apology)

Scene opens on older man, grey hair, very proper. He is identified by a label that appears on screen: "Sir Terrance Worthington-Hume, Creative Director, BBC"

TWH: I don't think anyone expected it, how could we? We had finally burst that old bubble, we thought to ourselves. I remember even a sort of celebration took place that evening. We cheered each other and said, "we finally found a formula that works." It was a very exciting time, I remember. I for one, at least was very enthusiastic at the principle that it would be a success, become a success, and carry on for several many seasons.

Fade Out/Fade In

TWH: No, we never saw it coming, except perhaps Martin. We had thought a young handsome man, not too bright of course, could learn… and by doing so others would learn with him and follow and so on and so forth. But when I think what happened [pause, shaking head slightly] not just to those we were force to make redundant because of this… [Really beginning to break down] but those who were… there… with him… I just… [Tears up] Those poor, poor people.

Fade Out to Black

Audio up of Jacob speaking, hustling bustling set-up of camera crew…
Open to Jacob standing in front of a random vineyard, leaning on a trellis of vines yielding ripe grapes… the shot is from Camera 1, beautiful shot.

We hear "Action."

Jacob: Trellising the vine is necessary in vinification for several reasons. For one the grapes [motioning to grapes], need to be hung out to ripen in such a way that the sun hits it from as many angles as possible ensuring a nice even development of the grape's sugars and acids to create a wine as harmonious as two toads playing piggyback and leapfrogging on the farm…

We hear "Cut"

Switch to Camera 2, a cheaper look. It is shooting from the eye-perspective of one sitting down. It is someone's video diary of the event in scene. We see Jacob in front of the camera, as well as Director David Toba and his crew…

Jacob: I'm sorry, what just happened?

David: Jacob, I know we just started cracking on, but you need to stick to script. [Looking at script]

Jacob: Oh yeah, I'm nervous, maybe if I can see myself, what I look like real quick [stutters to sound man] can you set up some rushes or something…

David: He's sound, so he can't. [David faces camera 2] Martin can you come over here? [Camera 2 raises, goes over to tighten in on Jacob and David, David turns to Jacob] Listen. It says, 'as harmonious as a perfectly balanced scale.' See?

Jacob: [to runner, off screen] butt me. [He is given a cigarette, already lit, placed in mouth by anonymous hand]

David:[Looking at script] You outstretch both arms and add 'on one side perfect levels of sugar, on the other perfect levels of acid, just one tip in any direction can throw the taste off.'

Jacob: But the two toads, you don't think?

David: That makes no sense.

Jacob: Have you ever seen two toads leapfrogging on a [David's expression changes] Ha-ha, just kidding. Of course we will do it this way, Martin's way, your way. Fine. Let's do it. Sorry everyone, just getting my grounding… my terroiring as the French would say…

[Camera two goes back to sit, everyone in place and David says "Action"]

Cut back to the pristine shot of camera 1

Jacob: Trellising the vine is necessary in vinification for several reasons. For one the grapes [motioning to grapes], need to be hung out to ripen in such a way that the sun hits it from as many angles as possible ensuring a nice even development of the grape's sugars and acids to create a wine as harmonious as… [Jacob gets distracted by something behind the crew…] what the… [Walks out of shot]

David: Oh, for the love of…

ROLL INTERWINED INTRODUCTION

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On the Serious Tip

Need some help. Have an 'issue' that needs advice, either respond on this board or send me an email:

jacob.gaffney@yahoo.co.uk

It's SERIOUS.

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A quick stop in Portugal and you can see how wine is a direct reflection of the people. At least, in the Old World (Europe). Fine wines represent the golden elite. Trash wine is for the hobos. Table wines are for people like you and me, and show you and me what table wine people can be like over there.

Hmm. As my director often says, 'Jacob, that makes absolutely no sense.'

Like their modestly priced wines, the Portugese are a particularly peculiar people. One bottling, the 2004 Portal de Aquia contained four grapes: Tinta Roriz, Castelao, Syrah and Alicante Bouschet. As far as we are concerned, that makes them the clown car of the luxurious circus that is the wine industry. How many more grapes can we cram in there?

Imagine seeing a California bottling with Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot on the label. Well, in Napa Valley, they call that a 'Meritage.' In France, it's called Bordeaux. In Portugal, who gives a crap if you don't know what it's called?

The wine was thin, rusty, musty and seemed like it was reclining in the shade, instead of working in the field. Lazy bugger. 8.0

On the other hand, the 2004 Quinta Vista -- Castelao, Tinta Miuda, Camarate -- was around the same price, 5 pounds. But it was a different wine altogether. Juicy, pleasant with hints of overcooked caramel. And guess what? It tastes like wine! No identity problems here. Straight shooter. 8.6

Admittedly, knowledge on Portugese wines is sparse over here at Interwined. And with grape names such as Tinta No Comprenda, that climate is unlikely to change.

Now the serious issue. ABC recently announced a re-edit of its series on the September 11 attacks. Five years ago today. Little has happened in lower Manhattan, but plenty has happened in journalism. Although Clinton signed in the Telecommunications Act and appeared to be a great supporter of free speech, his administration is attempting to order a change of the ABC dramatized account of events leading up to that tragic moment when our lives changed forever.

IDEA: Next time you're making a cup of tea, don’t brew by the clock or by the color, instead brew by the SMELL. Keep sniffing at that bag floating in the hot water until it stinks like a perfectly brewed cupa. Apply to other forms of food preparation where necessary.

Now, Jacob Gaffney has been called some pretty nasty names before. After one conversation with John de Luca, then president of a California wine trade group, Jacob Gaffney actually had to look up some of the terms de Luca used in reference to his work. 'Pugnacious' seems to stand out most.

But, attempting direct manipulation of the press was never the norm. The climate, even in wine writing, is changing and Jacob Gaffney needs your help.

After an interview with a Lebanese wine producer on their decision to pull out of a 'Peace Tasting,' an email hit the inbox. Read it here:

Dear Jacob
Thanks to you too – on 2nd and rather alarming thoughts, you still cannot print anything about the Lebanese / Israeli tasting postponement. It’s still too soon.
I cannot be quoted and prefer not to say anything on this matter, the situation is still too sensitive and I would never want to be responsible for anything that happens to our dear friends in the Bekaa Valley.
This has just been confirmed to me from Lebanon and silence is the preferred option at the moment.
Please can you either cancel your piece regarding this or at the very least delay it until the climate is more favourable.
Peoples lives and livelihoods are far more important than a journalistic piece!
Thanks for your kind understanding and let’s speak again into September when we have further information about the 2006 harvest.
Kind regards
XXXX

Now, was this person being bossy? Or was he/she seriously telling a journalist not to 'follow the blood'? Is it possible that people lives would be endangered with such a piece and is yours truly over-blowing the issue? Or do you wish to tell Jacob Gaffney that 'the wine industry is nothing like the real news, in the real world, you self-important little prick!'

Give us your thoughts.

Two Recommendations

This kills me. After complaining about supermarket Sainsbury's coming out with a 'Taste the Difference' line of wines, and slamming its Cabernet, a bottle of the TTD Pinot Grigio was on-sale for under five pounds. Grassy, crisp and clean. Like a New Zealand Sauvignon, but with out the melon, tropical friuts, etc. One of the best wines for the price. Unbelievably. How can the little guy compete when the big guy has gotten it all right?

My friend, a fine Italian wine importer, tried the wine, without knowing its origin. He guessed it was Pinot Grigio and gave a similar response as above. We spoke briefly about how Pinot Grigio needs to be controlled, in terms of yields. Grow to many grapes and the resultng wine is the watered-down pulpy dry mess Italian restaurants throw at you.

Then he added that he had tried five Pinot Grigios this week and this one was the best. When I revealed it was produced by a faceless grocery chain, we both groaned, then took another sip. 8.9

At Budgens, for under five pounds, is the Da Luca Merlot/Primitivo blend (Primitivo is basically Zinfandel's ancestor, and is remarkably similar). It does not have a vintage, so the grapes come from multiple years, and it is an 'Indicazione Geografica Tipica,' or from a typical, but not special, Italian region, in this case Tarantino (a little wine from Taranto, related to the Hollywood director). Apulia, hot and Southern.

It's a blockbuster, just like many of Quentin's movies. Also, no grace, strong in will and sometimes surprising, but with a big finish. It is a heavy, clumsy, large wine and it tastes great. 8.9.

A Tale of Two Parties

It was the best of times..

The first party. A posh North London flat. A guy in the wine biz invited me to his son's fifth birthday. More adults then children, but drinking was still secondary. A wine and Pimm's crowd. The party wine was a 2003 Premiere Bordeaux Chateau Haut Rian.

A bit thin, not notable. Light airy, aloof, like many at a party. Little oak, less earth. Slight aroma of berries, mainly black, and that is about it. 8.2 points. Perfect for a party. Easy drinking, inexpensive red. Didn't complain of course, yet the host said 'this one's for you.'

Lovely to be special. A bottling from Austria. Forgot the vintage. Made mainly from a grape called St. Laurent. Also Merlot, Zwigelt. Cool climes for cool times. Given my own Riedel glass for a proper tasting. Word is spreading.

Seemed a bit bland at first. Let it breathe. The strong tartness gave way to sublime bitterness. Dig the dark chocolate. The wine found it's soul when finally set free. Almost desperate to impress. Excellent. 8.9.

The second party served spirits. Clear liquids bubbling in plastic cups while drinkers pretend to enjoy chatting and, deep inside, wish to burst out their skin. Wasn't invited to this one, a few houses down. Neighbors.

Drank a bottle of Montepulciano di Abruzzo from Marks and Spencer. 8 pounds. Italian wine is a minefield. Montepulciano, for example, was the grape used in the wine from Abruzzo. However, Montepulciano is also a town in Tuscany, which makes Vino Nobile. Made from Sangiovese. Huh? What's that? Make sense. Please.

Went to sleep with bass thumping from doors down. Everyone needs to unwind, especially in this city. But then, around two a.m. the sound of drunken laughter as a game of soccer was starting in front of my door. One thing you can count on is that spirits drinkers always cross the line.

Jumped out of bed, Montepulciano boiling. Flung open the door. No one there. They had gone, thank god. But wait, where's my daughter's football.

My daughter's football.

Stolen.

Red wine flows into my eyes,seeing only red. That's taking the piss.

Dressed only in boxers and my Japanese fighting stick, my jo, resting in my hand. Took a walk to the neighbors. About 30 eastern Europeans, kicking up a storm, and somewhere inside, kicking around my daughter's football. It's the principle of the thing.

Montepulciano tells me he can take the spirits drinkers. They're out their heads, they are as tasteless and cold as the liquor stagnating in their dixie cups. Well, if wine has my back...

But how to begin. Shall I impress them with my vast knowledge of alcoholic beverages and how they are wasting their time with such rotten fire water? Shall the shirtless, shoeless stick-holder play the stereotypical American by shouting, "We saved your asses from the Germans, and this is how you repay us?"

Montepulciano whispers an obvious out in my ear, 'pretend you're sleepwalking.' Hell. It worked.

Pride is that feeling whose price fluctuates greatest on the stock exchange of human emotions.

"An intruder stole my daughter's football and I happen to be sleepwalking." Pride 100 points. The response: "No football here," Pride 50 points.

Started walking away and a woman shouts, "we love your little shorts," pride 0 points. Even the overseas investors are starting to bail.

Make a joke, says Montepulciano. "Thank you, I only wear them to sleep in, so consider you noisemakers lucky." Pride declays bankrupcy.

Then, as the beaten wine drinker shuffles off, low and behold, a spirits drinker gives him an out. "What do you think you're going to do with that little baseball bat?"

Wine drinker turns around. Montepulciano is not pleased. We both had decided to walk away. Spirits drinkers.

"It's not a bat, it's a jo, a Japanese fighting stick," Montepulciano yells through the wine drinker's throat, making wine drinker's muscles flex and making, at that moment, moonlight shimmer across his red-stained teeth. "And if you want to see how it works, then we'll show you. Come here."

Spirits drinkers run for cover, stash themselves in their house. Pride 50 points.

The next morning Montepulciano is gone without a trace. Didn't even leave a telephone number. Drank all the milk on the way out to boot. Italian wines are all the same.

Open the front door and there it is. My daughter's football, set atop my doorstep.

Wine drinker's pride, 100 points.

Spirits drinkers, Zero.

Well, as my dear old mum used to say, "If crazy sells, then this family would be drowning in cash."

EDITOR'S NOTE: No animals were harmed in the writting of this blog.