Wine makes every meal an occasion, every table more elegant, every day more civilized

We discovered a wonderful Pinot Noir today, called In'Ka. It's directly imported from a tiny area of Chile, the Leyda Valley. We are told, it is comparable to Santa Rita/Santa Barbara County Pinot Noir. I'm more of a white wine drinker, but I'm starting to think I really like Pinot Noir's. This is one of two red wines I love, and they are both Pinot Noir. I'm thinking I need to try others. We bought a bottle of this today to take home.

The other wine we really enjoyed today is another red, named Purple Hands. It's a blend of Merlot, Pinot Noir, and Cabernet Franc, from Oregon. The 2007 we tried today is sold out at the winery. It is hard to describe this wine as light, medium, or full bodied, because it has a tendency to be all three.

At many of the stores in the Bellingham area, if you buy 6 bottles you get a 10% discount on the wine. At Fred Meyer, they also give you a free reusable wine bag. The wines we bought today at Fred Meyer were all whites, except for one white Zinfandel:

Beringer White Zinfandel - I'm sure no wine snob would ever drink White Zinfandel, but if you enjoy this type of wine, which we really do, Beringer is one of the better, budget wines. It's one of our favorites. This is the wine we are drinking this evening.

Chateau Ste. Michelle, from the Columbia Valley, Washington...
-Riesling 2008
-Gewurztraminer 2008

These two were on sale. Actually, all the wines we bought were on sale, these two a little more on sale, as they were last week as well. These are my two favorite types of wine, Riesling and Gewurztraminer and I really like these two budget wines. The off-dry Riesling has a taste of passion fruit and lime, while the Gewurtz is a medium-dry wine with aromas of lychee nuts, nutmeg, and clove spice. hah! Like I can pinpoint what a lychee nut smells like! That's what the web site said ...

Wine improves with age. The older I get, the better I like it.

CJ Wijns, the local wine place in Birch Bay has wine sampling every Saturday afternoon. Five samples for $5. It's quickly become a regular date for us and we plan our Saturday around it. Wine in the U.S. is so much cheaper than in Canada. We pay about four times as much at home. On the one hand, it seems so unfair that we pay so much. On the other hand, how else to pay for our very much desired social programs? A great option of course, is to have two homes, one in Canada, with our cheap healthcare, and one in the U.S., with their cheap wine.

It's hard not to get stuck in a rut, to buy the same favorite wines every week, especially when you have no idea what will be good and what will just be plain bad. I know I prefer some of the sweeter wines, Rieslings, Chardonnays, and Gewurztraminers (it's debatable whether that word is harder to write or pronounce!) I enjoy reds, but they unfortunately often give me a headache.

That's what makes the Saturday Sips such a great addition to our week. We get to try different wines each week and gain a knowledge of what's available to us. Some weeks there are wines that are more common, that can be found at other cheaper stores, and then other weeks there are wines that just can't be found elsewhere. Since you get a better price buying that day than you will later on, and they may even sell out, it's a good idea to buy then.

October 24, 2009: The wines being sampled were all Italian wines, from small Italian wineries. The man who brought them in has created his own company, Small Vineyards LLC, in Seattle, Wa. He goes to Italy once a year and travels around the Italian countryside, visiting small owner operated vintners. He brings back unique wines that you can't get anywhere else, and when they sell out, that's it, you can't get it anymore. The wines he had were mostly reds, and though quite enjoyable, it was a sparkling white that caught my attention. Moscato d'Asti, is a dessert wine, sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. We bought the last two bottles.

October 3, 2009: A few weeks ago, the wine that caught my attention was a red, with an interesting, modern cartoony label, Russian Jack Pinot Noir, from Burnt Spur in Martinborough, New Zealand. Harold preferred the Russian Jack Sauvignon Blanc.

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Moscato d'Asti, 2008, Estate Bottled by B.E. for Poderi Elia, Neive, Italia.
Imported by Small Vineyards LLC, Seattle, WA

"Moscato is an aromatic wine made from selected grapes grown on the hills surrounding S.Stefano Belbo, in the heart of the area where this wine is produced. It has a straw-yellow colour in the glass and fruity notes, delicately sweet, fresh, grapey, and sparkling in the mouth. Moscato is perfect with desserts. Serve at 6 degrees celcius."

Poderi Elia
"Founded in Neive, 1890, by the owner's great-grandfather, the family run winery concentrates on local red varieties - Nebbiolo, Barberra, Dolcetto - and Moscato d'Asti. Vineyards stretch over 9 hectares and are from 30 to 45 years old. Low yields and traditional methods result in complex structured wines truly symbolicof the terroir they come from."

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Russian Jack Pinot Noir, 2008, Burnt Spur
Imported by DS Trading, Pennsylvania, PA.
"The 2008 Russian Jack Pinot Noir exhibits an enticing mix of red berry fruit and spice notes on the nose leading onto a palate full of delectable red fruit flavours. This is a wine that should be enjoyed in its youth, ideally with friends and acquaintances or any place where you just want to have fun, relax and enjoy the better things in life."

Russian Jack Sauvignon Blanc, 2008, Burnt Spur
Imported by DS Trading, Pennsylvania, PA.
"Bursting with ripe blackcurrant and passionfruit characters this full-bodied Sauvignon Blanc shows excellent length and flavour with juicy acidity balancing the ripe fruit flavours on the palate. This wine will develop further complexity over the next couple of years but is equally enjoyable in its youth."

Burnt Spur
Burnt Spur is a single vineyard estate located 8kms south of the Martinborough township. The 32 hectare block produced its first significant crop in 2003 and 2008 saw it come into full production. The estate is planted in Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris and Sauvignon Blanc.

My daughter is 14

"When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished by how much he'd learned in seven years." -- Anonymous, erroneously attributed to Mark Twain

My daughter is 14. I remember being 14. I remember cutting myself away from my Mother. I remember feeling my friends were more important than my family. I remember wishing that my Mother would just stop paying attention to what I was doing. If she couldn't be any fun, then maybe she could just disappear ... no, I didn't want anything bad to happen to her. I still had nightmares about losing my family and the despair that caused. No, I wanted her to keep on living, to be there when I was hurt or at the end of my rope, on the off occasion when I was in so much pain, that I could actually show her ... but for the rest of my life, I just wanted her to disappear.

I remember my friend Joanne, she thought my Mother was so cool. Joanne lived across the road from me. She moved there when I was in the last year of elementary school and she was in the first year of junior high. We played together for the last week of summer, and then she went off to high school and we ignored eachother until I got into grade 8. Then we became great friends.

Joanne saw something in my Mother it would take me another 10 years to discover. I'd come home to discover her in my kitchen in some deep discussion with my Mother. I still am not sure how it really made me feel. On the one hand, I liked that Joanne enjoyed my Mother, and I liked that my Mother enjoyed Joanne. On the other hand, that was MY Mother, that was MY friend ... how dare they connect?!

I remember boyfriends crying on my Mother's shoulder after a breakup. I remember others thinking she was so pretty, so fun, so cool. I just wished her away.

My daughter is 14. Why won't she talk to me? I remember being the center of her Universe. I remember when all it took was a kiss from me to make everything better. When I walked in, I remember the most beauteous smile that would light up her face, as she jumped up from what she was doing, "Mommy!!!" she would call, and I knew no one was as important as I. I was the most amazing person, with the most amazing stories, she and I were inseperable. She was all I needed. I was all she needed.

I remember many years of feeling alone, feeling very lonely, and feeling that as long as I had Cairo, I could live my life through her. I poured my life into Cairo, my failed marriage, my failed aspirations, my failed choices, all lost their sting since I had her, my perfect, golden ringletted, rosy cheeked, little darling.

There were road trips, and field trips, and day trips, and birthday trips. I loved my life as her Mother. I felt that I had found my calling, to be Cairo's Mother was the best I could be.

There have been many ups and downs for Cairo and I, a failed marriage, moving away from her father, losing one of our dogs, moving away from our home, taking on a new stepfather, a new stepmother, two new homes, a third home in the US ... it all takes it's toll. I see friends becoming more important than I, a need for her to pull away from me, I am no longer the center of her Universe, I am not nearly as cool as I once was, as necessary as I once was. Frankly, in Cairo's eyes, there is just nothing I can do to be cool.

There are parents she thinks are way cooler than I am. They allow their kids to drink alcohol, skip school, have alcoholic parties. She blames me for changing her life, for leaving her father, leaving her home, her neighbourhood, and her dog. I am not so wonderful in her eyes, not like I once was. When she is hurt, she turns from me, hides in her room. Where she once poured her heart out to me, she now guards herself against me. "I'm not like you Mom!" she exclaims, "I don't need to cry over everything!" If I get upset or want to protect her, she pushes back at me. I am not welcome there. This is now the territory of her friends. No Mothers allowed.

My daughter is 14. I remember being 14. I think it's harder this time.