Monthly Archives: May 2010

Alcohol makes people do stupid things. This is a documented fact. But a drink containing a human toe? Seriously?!

At first I thought it was a joke. Then I was told on good authority that it wasn’t. So I tried to rationalize the irrational: they must use a fake toe. But no, it’s real. Indeed, the Sourtoe Cocktail exists, my friends, and judging by the video evidence, people are still drinking it, for reasons that are completely unfathomable to me.

The toes are real human appendages that have been dried and preserved in salt. They look totally disgusting. Witness exhibit A:

The Sourtoe Cocktail is the signature drink of the Downtown Hotel in Dawson City, Yukon, which is apparently the only place you can get it (and thank god for that).

The original recipe called for a human toe to be tossed into a beer glass filled with Champagne (classy). Nowadays anything can be a Sourtoe (even non-alcoholic drinks, apparently – mmm, Sourtoe Pepsi); it just has to contain a toe. And, in order to become a full-fledged member of the “Sourtoe Cocktail Club” (I guess it’s kind of like the Mile High Club, only not nearly as physically enjoyable), the toe must touch your lips at some point while you’re drinking – otherwise it doesn’t count. Because if you’re going to do something gross, you might as well make it as gross as possible.

The origin of this abomina – er, “drink” – apparently dates to 1973, when a character known as Captain Dick Stevenson bought a cabin outside Dawson City that housed the pickled remains of the previous tenant’s toe. As the story goes, apparently it was the amputated toe of a rum runner from the 1920′s, named Otto Liken. One day, while running from the Mounties, Otto stepped in a puddle and his toe froze. In order to prevent gangrene, he decided to have his brother amputate it – with a shotgun. The story’s not clear on how the toe stayed intact after being blown off by a shotgun at point-blank range, or why they kept it afterward in a bottle of rum (I don’t think DNA evidence was a big method of catching bootleggers during Prohibition), or why it was still in the cabin over fifty years later, or why the hell the new owner thought it would be a great idea to drink a fifty-year old bottle of rum with a dead guy’s toe floating inside – but apparently that’s how it went. Maybe it was based on some bizarre hazing ritual performed on newbie Klondikers during the gold rush. Or maybe Captain Dick was just insane.

Captain Dick decided to market this unholy creation, and tourists were quick to line up for their chance to “do the Sourtoe.” He even had certificates printed up, so that people would have certifiable proof of their stupidity. Perhaps more unsettling, the bar has never had to go looking for a toe when one was lost or accidentally swallowed (and this has happened more than once) – dozens of toes have been donated.

I just don’t get it. It looks like something from a horror movie. It can’t possibly add anything positive to the taste of the beverage, and it’s certainly not doing anything for the drink’s aesthetics. There is no rational reason why any sane person would want to put this in their mouth – but they do. By the thousands. An estimated 65,000 people have consumed this drink since its inception.

Oh well. I’ll just pretend I’ve never heard of it. At least the Sourtoe won’t kill you, unlike some drinks.

(Update November 2011: for whatever reason, this story seems to have disappeared from the Edmonton Journal’s website, so here is the new link to an archived version.)

 

My very first piece for The Edmonton Journal came out in yesterday’s paper. It arose out of a seminar and mixology workshop I attended last week at the Manor Casual Bistro, led by world-renowned cocktail expert Philip Duff. The event focused on gin, specifically the new G’Vine gin which is set to be released in Alberta within a couple weeks. (As a side note, this gin is really quite wonderful and I’ll be posting subsequent articles on it within a few days’ time.)

 

This seminar marks Edmonton’s participation in the emerging gin renaissance. Gin fell into obscurity during the 1960′s, when it was replaced by vodka. The creation of the Bombay Sapphire brand in 1988 by marketing guru Michel Roux helped spur a resurgence in gin, but it has only been in the last half decade or so that there has really been a movement back towards premium gins and gin cocktails.

The Duff seminar is also one of the signposts of Edmonton’s evolving drinks culture. Mark my words, we’re going to see more gin cocktails in the future, but we’re also going to see a maturing cocktail scene. There are a few places in town that offer a more sophisticated take on mixed drinks, but in general we seem to be mired in a slew of flavoured vodkas and pre-mixed bottles (i.e. things like those abominable ready-made Caesars and mudslides).

This will all change in time. I can’t give you an estimate as to exactly when, but I have faith that things are already starting to change. The recent opening of several local wine bars attests to a maturing wine scene; let’s hope we see the arrival of a few specialty cocktail bars soon.

Yesterday I attended a lunch at Characters with Road 13 winemaker Michael Bartier. Bartier has been in Edmonton for a little while to promote his wines; ever eager to discover more about the Canadian wine industry, I was thrilled to have the chance to spend some time with one of the hardy (and arguably mildly crazy) souls trying to grow wines in the temperamental Okanagan Valley.

“We have a suite of soils unique to the Okanagan,” Bartier declares at the start of the lunch. As we sip on some of Road 13′s offerings, Bartier gives a talk about the various elements that combine to create the Okanagan’s unqiue viticultural landscape. “It’s no better or worse than Napa Valley, or Bordeaux, or the Rheingau,” he notes. “It’s just different; it’s our own conspiracy of variables.”

Bartier is an Okanagan patriot, having been born in Kelowna and raised in Summerland. He was hired as winemaker of Road 13 by Mick and Pam Luckhurst, who purchased the vineyards and winery in 2003 from the original owners, the Serwo family (who established it in 1998). Road 13 is located between Oliver and Osoyoos in the southern Okanagan, on the West Bench of the Okanagan Valley DVA (Designated Viticultural Area – Canada’s official wine appellation designation).

The Okanagan Valley is a marginal growing region, meaning that is lies along the cusp of the world’s wine growing area: winemaking is typically restricted to the area between 30 and 50 degrees in both the north and south hemispheres; the Okanagan lies along the 49th parallel north.) It is also a desert climate; Lake Okanagan tempers the heat of the summer and cold of the winter just enough to allow vines to survive – most of the time.

“It’s popcorn dry, except for the odd apocalyptic rain storm,” Bartier notes. Having visited the Okanagan Valley last summer, I can fully attest to the veracity of this claim. I’ve spent several summer vacations in the southern Okanagan, right near Road 13′s vineyards, but I’ve never seen a drop of rain until last summer – when the entire Valley succumbed to the wrath of Zeus as a massive thunderstorm rolled in early in the morning and hunkered down for the rest of the day. Raindrops the size of quarters, lashing wind ripping down tree branches, constant peals of thunder interspersed with flashes of lightning…it wasn’t fun camping in a tent, that day – though, I imagine it was far worse to be a lonely, exposed grapevine.

The factor that really separates Road 13 from the dozens of other Okanagan wineries – and indeed, the thousands of other North American wineries – is their focus on blended wines, made from several grape varieties, which change in proportion and varietal composition every vintage. Blending is almost like a lost art in winemaking, despite being the original and traditional method of making wine. “We live in a varietal world,” Bartier states, somewhat ruefully. Wine has been increasingly marketed, especially to new and/or younger wine drinkers, by grape variety. It’s easier for people to order by grape, once they’ve discovered a few that they enjoy. Conversely, blended wines are typically seen as more difficult to understand and therefore enjoy – though I would certainly question the truth to this claim. Blending is very common in Europe, especially France, but even there the trend has been towards single varietal wines, or maybe a blend of two varieties at most.

Though it may forsake the basic rules of contemporary wine marketing, it often makes more viticultural sense to craft blended wines – especially in a place where many grape varieties struggle to ripen every year, like in the Okanagan. If a vintage happens to be less than stellar for one particular variety, but better for another, blending them together results in one wine with better balance and flavours – as opposed to having two varietal wines, one of which is good and another which is terrible.

In keeping with this principle, Bartier has committed to the art of blending. “This is one of my soapboxes, as of late,” he jokes. Currently 90% of their portfolio is comprised of blended wines, up from only 30% just a few years ago. Bartier feels that blending wines allows him to better express their place of origin – or terroir, if you prefer. Road 13′s motto, “it’s all about the dirt,” reflects this belief.

After sampling all the wines (see my detailed tasting notes below) and continuing this very interesting discussion, we moved on to lunch – which was absolutely delicious. The four courses were served simultaneously on one giant, square plate divided into quarters. (I need to get me some of these.) The menu:

Navajo spiced calamari
served with black bean aioli, cucumber & red onion

Assorted greens
served with miso & wasabi dressing, tomatoes & avocado

House made wild mushroom tortellini primavera
served in a light white wine cream sauce

Beef bourguignon
with buttermilk & leek mashed potatoes

It was a great exercise in food and wine pairing to match up each dish with the various wines. I particularly enjoyed the rosé with the salad and the calamari, the Stemwinder with the tortellini, and the Rockpile with the beef bourguignon. (more…)

Today I turned these:

into this:

Lately I’ve been on a big cocktail kick (maybe “bender” would be more appropriate), inspired by a lecture and mixology workshop I recently attended. It was hosted by master mixologist Philip Duff of Liquid Solutions, (check out the Edmonton Journal this Saturday for my write-up of the event). I’ve always enjoyed a good cocktail, and gin is probably my favourite spirit, but before now I’ve never really been motivated enough to whip them up myself; it’s ever so much easier to crack a beer or pop open a bottle of wine.

However, Duff prepared some truly tasty drinks, and I decided I needed to start making them for myself. So I stocked up my bar with a few essential liquors (gin, vodka, Campari, Cinzano, Cointreau, Blue Curaçao), picked up a bunch of lemons, invested in a few basic bar tools (note: while you can use two beer glasses jammed together to shake a cocktail, it’s a lot easier – and safer, and less messier – to use a proper shaker), and attempted to recreate the delicious Jasmine cocktail.

This lovely rosy drink looks and tastes remarkably like pink grapefruit, yet it contains nothing that would seemingly lend any grapefruity taste. Here is the recipe:

1 ½ oz.  gin
½ oz. Cointreau
½ oz. Campari
½ oz. fresh lemon juice
lemon zest

Combine the spirits and juice in a shaker filled with ice. Shake. Pour through a tea strainer into a chilled glass. Spray the oils of the lemon peel over the surface of the drink and rub the peel around the rim of the glass. Drop the peel into the glass. (Or don’t – some mixologists swear against this; Duff said it was “wrong.”)

Unfortunately, the Jasmines I’ve made at home don’t quite taste like the one from the workshop – for that I would need the G’Vine Floraison gin, which won’t be available until mid-June in Alberta. G’Vine is a grape-based gin, so it has a rounder mouthfeel than grain-based gins. G’Vine also uses vine flowers – the flowering head of the grapevine that ripens into a bunch of grapes – in their mix of botanicals, which gives remarkable floral aromas of liquorice/cassis, elder flower and a touch of spice.

You’ll end up with something tasty no matter what brand of gin you use, so long as it is semi-decent. However, I found that Tanqueray was a bit too heavy on the juniper; Bombay Sapphire was a slightly better choice. I’m eager to make this drink with Hendricks gin, as I think its cucumber tones could do something interesting when combined with the other ingredients.

The Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO), venerable institution that it is not, has banned Dan Aykroyd’s Crystal Head vodka. Why? Because the bottle is scary and it makes them think about death. And they don’t want to, like, encourage kids to pound back a skull-shaped bottle of vodka and then die of alcohol poisoning, or something. News flash: the problem of alcoholism and youth binge drinking does not centre around $60 bottles of vodka. Hey, there’s an idea – maybe the LCBO should ban all spirits that retail for less than $60 a bottle? Problem solved! (Headlining in next week’s news roundup: shoplifting increases a thousandfold in LCBO stores across Ontario.)

• Last week I noticed that The Weather Network, my go-to site for all things weather-related, was invaded by Bud Light Lime. Willingly, I assume, and just in time for the long weekend. The background to the weather listings for all of Canada’s major cities featured a baby-shit green backdrop complete with photos of the swill, and of course some hot 20-somethings prancing about in bathing suits. Thankfully the ads have been removed, but be forewarned – I have witnessed the end of times, and it tastes like beer-flavoured Skittles.

• Apparently it is rather common for chefs to smoke marijuana in their kitchens. Supposedly it fuels creativity and relaxation in a stressful environment. And apparently all those comfort foods adorning the menus of high class restaurants were totally inspired by, and/or intended for, chefs who are slightly high (and probably slightly drunk) at the end of their long shifts. They’re calling it “haute stoner cuisine.” Because if you’re going to be a stoner chef, you know you’re totally haute.

• Next up will be Dark Side Cab, right? Well, I’m still curious to taste the Pink Floyd Rosé. Sounds like it’s actually not half bad.

• English football club Manchester United recently teamed up with Chile’s iconic Concha y Toro winery in a sponsorship deal; C&T is now the official Man U wine. I can just see the slew of football-themed wines: Red Devil red, Old Trafford white…

• India recently tackled the single malt whisky market; now they they are getting into the wine industry. In the past decade, India went from having only 10 vineyards to almost 70. They are focused on the export market, targeting Hong Kong last year, London this year, and the United States in the near future.

• The proverbial shit has been hitting the proverbial fan in the literary world. This has nothing to do with e-readers, either, but rather with the flagrant abuse of power exercised by the Indigo chain, in another example of its royal screwing of any and all independent bookstores. Bookninja has provided great coverage of the issue, along with equally great commentary.

• Bin 104 and Foster’s Group is hosting a 5-course Californian wine dinner at the newly-renovated Parkallen Restaurant, on Thursday, May 27. Details on the wine menu can be found on the Bin 104 website; you’ll have to book a spot at the event to find out about the food!

• Who doesn’t like free wine? Liquor Select will be pouring over 60 free wines at its Annual Spring Fling, on Saturday, May 29 from 2 to 5pm.

• deVine Wines is hosting a wine tasting fundraiser on Thursday June 3 in support of the Edmonton Learning Community‘s CommuniTEA Infusion Project. Both beer and wine will be served at this stand-up event. Tickets are $55 – $25 from each ticket will go to the CommuniTeA Project.

Can someone please explain to me why I have never, in my two and a half decades on this earth, tasted pea shoots until now?

I started eating peas before I could walk. (Ever thrifty, it was common practice for my mom to blend up the leftover cooked peas from dinner and feed the verdant paste to her sneering toddlers.) I’ve been growing peas in the garden for several years. I love freshly shucked peas, starchy though they can be. My favourite peas are my annual batch of homegrown snow peas, with their thin, sweet pods – so satisfying to crunch up whole.

Yet for some reason, I just never thought of eating the small tender shoots that are usually the first thing out of the ground in spring. Perhaps, subconsciously, it seemed like a waste – after all, by ripping up these shoots you are forgoing the possibility of having a pile of mature peas in a couple months. But after having tasted these shoots, in the future I’m definitely going to reserve a portion of my pea harvest for early spring shoots.

Actually, I could just continue to be a messy gardener – which is really how this discovery came about. I planted too many peas last year and I couldn’t manage to harvest all of them, nor did I need to save them all for this year’s seeds. So a bunch of them were tossed into a compost pile all winter. This spring we decided to re-do our compost, and in the resulting mess (namely, a pile of freezer-burnt vegetation flung into the middle of the garden for an afternoon) a bunch of dried peas were scattered across the soil. As a result, we’ve ended up with a bunch of pea shoots sprouting randomly throughout the garden. Hardy little buggers, they are.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of eating them sooner – I knew I’d have to go out and clean up the random greenery at some point, but I guess I just assumed I would toss them all in the compost. Well, fortunately for me, the very day I planned to do this I happened to stumble upon pea shoots for sale at a local farmer’s market! Instantly I knew all my random peas were actually a lovely spring salad, just waiting to be plucked and savoured.

And savour I did. As I washed them I nibbled many of the shoots on their own; they offer such an enticing, refreshing, almost thirst-quenching flavour. They let you enjoy the taste of fresh peas without having to contend with any fibrous pods or overdone starch.

So pea shoots are definitely on the menu now every spring. However, I just can’t give up my penchant for untidy gardens (or rather, I just don’t have enough discipline to be a tidy gardener), so I think I may take the carefree approach to this: in the fall, after I’ve finished harvesting everything and I’ve bagged or piled up all the detritus, I will scatter the leftover peas across the surface of the soil. That way, the pea shoots will be the first thing up in the spring; it won’t matter that they don’t conform to rows or a certain section, as I’ll pick them before any of the other veggies really get going – or even sprout. I can’t lose!

My newest vow: dedicate myself completely and fully to the Canadian wine industry.

Ok, perhaps I’m being a wee bit melodramatic (and more than a little unrealistic), but I really need to stop overlooking the Canadian wine section when I’m shopping for vino. In my defense, this section is often sadly neglected by most liquor stores in my corner of the world. Also, Canadian wines often do not fall into the great quality-for-price ratio (QPR) category – sometimes they are downright rip-offs, but more often than not, they merely walk a middle ground of moderate pricing; they are easy to ignore.

Shouldn’t Canadian wine be subsidized, or something? Shouldn’t there be more encouragement to purchase and sell wines from our own country, rather than flooding our liquor stores with cheap junk from California and Chile (and, increasingly, Argentina)? Alas, Canadians pay the highest tax on alcohol in the world, which means that our wines are never going to be great values (comparatively speaking). And the fact that liquor is controlled provincially doesn’t help. Alberta’s privatized liquor laws means that there are no regulations on what a store has to sell – so, unless that store happens to specialize in wine, you’re going to get shelves and shelves of bottom-feeder plonk. A few gems sparkle amid all this dirt, but they are few and far between.

I suppose I shouldn’t rant too much, however, as my ability to seek out those gems (not to mention my endless harping on how hard it is to be a wine lover up here) gives me a perverted sense of snobbish pleasure. Plus, I found one of those gems last night, so I’m feeling pretty good right now. In a moment I think I’ll head back to the store and buy up the rest of their stash of 2004 Reif Estate Meritage – I doubt this vintage is available from the warehouse any longer.

Reif Estate could be considered one of the grand-pappies of Canadian wineries – it opened in 1983, which makes it positively ancient in terms of Canada’s wine industry; over two-thirds of Ontario’s wineries are less than a decade old. The Reifs are a family of venerable German winemakers who can trace their winemaking history back over five hundred years in the German town of Neustadt, located in the middle of the noble Rhine Valley. Ewald Reif ventured to Canada in 1977 and founded Reif Estate in Ontario’s Niagara River region. Klaus Reif, Ewald’s nephew and a graduate of Germany’s prestigious Geisenheim Institute, took over as winemaker and president in 1987; a few years later he hired Rob DiDomenico, University of Guelph honors microbiology graduate, as Reif’s winemaker.

The 2004 Meritage is a classic Bordeaux blend of 50% Merlot, 41% Cabernet Sauvignon, and 9% Cabernet Franc. (Meritage, which rhymes with “heritage,” is the name for Bordeaux-style wines made in North America.) On first sniff, I was struck by the pungent whiff of dill rising off this wine – I’m not kidding, it was like sticking your face into a jar of dill pickles. In a good way. This quality makes me suspect they used an unusual type of oak, perhaps Canadian or Hungarian, to age the wine. Their website states that the 2007 Meritage was aged in 10% Hungarian oak; I’ve sent them a note asking them to confirm the oak used for the 2004 – I’ll provide an update when I receive the answer.

Underneath all that dill was blackcurrant, black cherry, toast, and a hint of slate. The palate backed these flavours up, with strong minerality running through the refreshingly light- to medium-bodied palate. The tannins were quite soft and round, almost dusty – I’m guessing those six years of bottle age have helped them mellow out considerably, though the larger proportion of Merlot also makes for a softer wine. The acidity was quite high, providing welcome cleansing to the palate and making it a good candidate for food pairing -  I absolutely reveled in enjoying it alongside a hearty, homemade beef stew. It warmed my soul.

Finding a wine like this – unabashedly restrained in fruit and alcohol, decidedly European in style yet still noticeably Canadian, makes me happy. Now if only all those other Canadian wineries would stop taking so many cues from the Americans.

On Wednesday I attended a wine trade tasting hosted by the Import Vintners & Spirits Association (IVSA) at the Winspear Centre. It was a great event, with many agents pouring various wines and spirits from all over the world. I try my best to stay on top of the new products in the industry – a daunting, and dare I say impossible, task; but it’s a fun one, too. Events like these are a sort of crash refresher course, and certainly welcome for someone who is no longer surrounded by wine bottles all day (just virtual ones).

Overall, the presented products were very good quality, as I would have expected. (Agents don’t exactly want to bring their duds to these events.) The event centered on wine, of course, with a few spirits mixed in. And I have to mention the entire table of Jack Daniels and Cola cans. These pre-mixed highballs have been sold elsewhere in the world for some time; I saw a few in Europe in 2004. It looks like they’ve finally made it to our shores, for better or worse.  (For the record, I didn’t try one. I think I can envision a good approximation of the taste just fine on my own, thank you.)

Bold, tannic red wines were a staple of the red wine offerings, while the whites trended towards being crisp and dry – perfect summer wines. I tried quite a few Italian Pinot Grigios, all of which bore trademark earthy, mushroom-like aromas supported by a palate zinging with mouth-watering acidity. I was pleasantly surprised by the Noble Ridge Pinot Grigio, an Okanagan wine that was subtle on the fruit and forward on the earthiness – very reminiscent of the Italian Grigios.

The highlight of the event was my chat with Brennon Leighton, winemaker of Washington’s Efeste Winery. In a remarkable example of coincidence (or fate, for you superstitious kids), I had just been reading about the Wine Blogger’s Conference in Walla Walla, which made me realize that we haven’t had much exposure to Washington wines here in Alberta. There’s a few floating around in the wine stores, namely high-end Syrah, but they are definitely not common.

Leighton was an extremely charismatic, not to mention distinctive, individual. Burly, tattooed and gregarious, he volunteered to walk me through four of his wines – beginning with the most excellent Efeste Evergreen Riesling. At first I protested, stating that I had already corrupted my palate with a bunch of enamel-destroying, tannic reds. “No, no, no, this will refresh you!” Leighton declared, grabbing my wine glass, rinsing it with the white wine, then pouring me a sample. To my amazement, after a couple sips I was fully able to experience and enjoy the Riesling’s brilliant spark of minerality, shotgun blast of acidity, and lovely white peach aromas.

In one fell swoop he totally blew apart an extremely common wine serving “rule” (and one that I fully admit to following, prior to this encounter): serve white wines first, red wines second; if you drink a tannic red you won’t be able to taste anything else afterward for a long time – effectively screwing up the flavour of any white wine you might be silly enough to try. Well, as I learned, though it may take a few sips to clear your palate, you can certainly taste light white wines after big reds. Leighton went on to inform me that this is a common practice of his: serving crisp whites after the heavy reds, in order to cleanse and refresh everyone’s palates. Who knew?

There is an added bonus to drinking an acidic white after a tannic red: you get an impromptu teeth cleaning! “When you first came up here, your teeth were purple,” Leighton announced, rather to my chagrin. “But now they are white! It’s like pouring white wine on a red wine stain.” Well, that settles it. After I sample a few enamel-staining tannic reds, I’m definitely making a beeline for the dry Rieslings. (more…)

In what amounts to a shocking, if rather ingenious, display of extortion, a French ex-convict has recently been arrested for the attempted blackmail of two prestigious Burgundy vineyards. Earlier in the year, Aubert de Villaine, co-director of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, received two letters from a man who demanded one million euro from the estate – or else he would poison all the vines in the prized vineyard. Nearly identical letters were sent to another famed Burgundy vineyard, Domaine Comte Georges de Vogüé.

The extortionist, identified as a trained vineyard worker from Marne, north of Burgundy, spent two years working in Burgundy’s vineyards. Apparently he also has a previous criminal record, though police have not released any details on his background yet. The police nabbed the man after de Villaine arranged for a fake ransom drop at a nearby cemetery in Chambolle-Musigny.

In his letters, the extortionist displayed a very thorough knowledge of the DRC and Vogüé vineyards. In the second letter to each wine estate, he stated that he had already poisoned two vines on the properties, to prove his determination. Domaine Comte Georges de Vogüé immediately pulled up one of the vines and submitted it for investigation. Though DRC reports that its two suspect vines are doing just fine, de Vogüé reports that its remaining vine “does not develop well at the moment.” It hasn’t been confirmed yet as to whether or not a poison was actually administered to the vines.

Of course, if you’re going to try to blackmail a vineyard, you might as well pick one at the top. Domaine de la Romanée-Conti is considered the most prestigious vineyard in all of Burgundy, if not all of France. The wines made from the grapes grown on this little parcel of land fetch ludicrous prices – the 2005 DRC was released at over $3,600USD per bottle and currently retails for anywhere from $8,000 to $16,000. Only one weekend ago, Christie’s auctioned off several bottles of DRC wine for tens of thousands of dollars each. Though the wines of Domaine Comte Georges de Vogüé are a little less prestigious than those of DRC, they still occupy the upper echelon of Burgundy.

Blackmailing a wine estate by threatening the life of its vines may seem absurd, or even nonsensical, to many people. However, it’s really not so far-fetched. Money aside, there is so much mystique built up about the world’s great wines that the vineyards behind them have almost taken on a life of their own. Truth be told, I’m actually rather surprised that something like this hasn’t already occurred.

However, individuals such as this one clearly do not understand one vital piece of information: what makes Burgundy’s wines so complex, so nuanced, so haunting (and so expensive) isn’t so much the grapevines themselves as it is the land on which they are grown. Burgundy lies on the fractured fault lines of an ancient seabed. Accordingly, the soil composition changes radically within mere steps throughout this region; vines growing only a few dozen feet away from each other can produce wines with markedly different flavour profiles. Though all Burgundies taste quite different from Pinot Noir grown elsewhere in the world, certain small sections of the region have the perfect soil composition for creating truly exception wine – and the land at Romanée-Conti and de Vogüé happens to be just such examples of this. Though there are plenty of old vines making their own integral contribution to these wines, there are also younger vines in the mix; these young vines will one day achieve nobility and elegance, but for now they are merely a backbone supporting the more pervasive forces in these wines. Even destroying all the vines in these vineyards would only serve to rob the world of a decade of great wine, no more.

I once read that Romanée-Conti’s soil is considered so precious that vineyard workers are required to scrape it all off their boots before retiring for the day. I don’t know if this is true or not, but it’s clearly a lesson that this disgruntled individual missed during his stint in Burgundy’s vineyards: it’s not the vines, it’s the dirt. Grapevines – and their fermented counterpart – have a finite lifespan; the earth does not.

Apparently he also didn’t realize that extortion is dumb.

• Admittedly, I’m a bit of a fangirl when it comes to Maynard James Keenan’s music projects (Tool, A Perfect Circle, Puscifer). However, because I also know a thing or two about wine, I feel that I stand out from the crowds of other fangirls and boys who undoubtedly flock to his winery and buy cases upon cases, without knowing or caring one whit about wine. It is tragic that I’ll likely never taste his wines until I drive down to Arizona and visit his winery, Caduceus, myself – Alberta doesn’t seem to import ANY wines from Arizona, let alone his. However, I will placate myself by watching the documentary, Blood into Wine, about Keenan and the Arizona wine industry. Oh, and I know what you’re thinking: while Keenan’s wines may qualify as “celebrity wine” (a genre I’ve much maligned in the past), his wine project is markedly different from the average celebrity label – for starters, he actually makes his own wine. For reals. Like, he mucks about with grape crushers and fermentation tanks himself. This is very different from typical wine celebrities (who shall remain unnamed – you know who you are); most of them simply use their names as a marketing ploy on wines they probably don’t even drink themselves (read: because they suck).

• Edmonton will soon see the arrival of a new brewery – the Yellowhead Brewery will open on May 19 in the space formerly occupied by the ill-fated Maverick Brewery. One of the original Maverick investors and owner of the building, Gene Dub, is the force behind this new brewery. Rumour has it that they might even open a brew pub as well. And you know they are taking it seriously when they have the space blessed by a priest prior to opening.

• Speaking of beer, I would definitely sleep in a beer can. Because it has bunk beds and a well-stocked mini fridge, huzzah!

• I like rice. I like growing plants. But I don’t want to grow rice plants on my tits, thank you very much.

• Apparently company gardens are on the rise, with corporate giants like PepsiCo. planting organic gardens out back, which employees can help maintain in exchange for some of the harvest. I hope the trend keeps catching on, though it’s disheartening to hear that interest seems to be dwindling. (For the record, I would definitely do some gardening on my lunch break, if I had the opportunity.) Come on, people – at least they aren’t asking you to turn your underwear into arable farmland.

• Need an art fix? On the third Thursday of the month, the newly-renovated Art Gallery of Alberta offers an Art for Lunch seminar. These free, forty-minute seminars feature one of the artists whose works are currently inhabiting the gallery’s space. Next up is the  “The Innovative Techniques and Materials of Edgar Degas” on May 20.

• And finally, a clear answer to one of life’s eternal questions: “What the fuck should I make for dinner tonight?”