A White Wine For All Seasons
It has been far too long since I have last written about wine. The plan for today had been a dry vermouth tasting. But given the level of medication I am currently prescribed, drinking would be unwise. And while I have engaged in the practice of tasting and spitting in the past, it’s not something I delight in doing.
For the curious, the tasting was slated to be an old opened bottle of Noilly Pratt versus a fresh one (to see how badly the old formulation fades) and contrasting those against a freshly opened bottle of Dolin dry. The Dolin, mind you, was a gift from ADS that I drove back up from D.C. I still have yet to find it in the Capital District.
So instead I’ll be tackling some other wine esoterica.
Many posturing wine snobs will have you believe that the only wine worth drinking is red. White wine is all too often dismissed as the lesser of the two. Sure, some will concede that on a hot hot day in July, a crisp white is more apropos than claret. But white wine shines in all seasons, not just in the heat of summer.
And if you are looking for a versatile wine for your Thanksgiving celebration, you may want to consider this unpronounceable white.
Rinse and Sniff
There is a downside to painkillers and muscle relaxants. They have cut into my drinking. I’m not nearly so self-destructive anymore that I would have a cocktail while taking serious prescription medication. Yet another no-fun fact about getting old.
Actually, I had thought that the meds would be a lot more enjoyable on their own, but sadly they are not. So now I’m just achy and dopey. I guess I should just be happy that I have medical insurance and the pills cost less than a fast food value meal (out of pocket).
But I had planned to do a cocktail post today, and dammit even if I can’t drink I can at least write about drinking.
Last week Mrs. Fussy and I were hanging out in the kitchen making cocktails. It’s likely I made her a Manhattan. I was making myself a Sazerac. Now some may argue that it wasn’t really a Sazerac. In the past I have called it my unfussy Sazerac. My thought is that it is okay to bend the rules as long as you know you are engaged in such a shameful activity.
Except this time I did something a little bit different. And it turned something that I thought was a meaningless affectation into something truly remarkable.
We Need a Little…
Thanksgiving. Bet you thought I was going to say Christmas.
First let me say, this is not part of the war against Christmas. I like Christmas, and I think it’s ridiculous to try and hide it by insisting a Christmas tree is a holiday bush. We are not fooling anyone. Let it be a Christmas tree.
But things have gotten a bit out of hand. There were reports coming in of Christmas activity before Halloween. Slow. It. Down.
There is an order to things, and it exists for a reason. First, Back to School, then Halloween, then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then New Years Eve, and then Valentines Day. I am fine with planning for Thanksgiving starting on November 1. But I am not fine with Black Friday sales on Thursday.
Let each holiday have its moment, undisturbed by the one that follows on its heels.
Clearing in the Haze
I’m taking some very powerful drugs. Thanks to my aging musculature, carrying around Young Master Fussy around Washington D.C. and holding Little Miss Fussy as she threw a fit at my refusal to buy her a marshmallow lollipop I’ve injured my upper back.
Thanks to my doctor, the cocktail du jour is now a combination of muscle relaxants and painkillers
This leaves me with slightly more mobility, bearable levels of discomfort, and a distinct lack of mental clarity. It’s probably better to not blog while impaired. Who knows what I might say? But today was supposed to be an Ask the Profussor, and I was looking forward to it because recently there were a few small misconceptions I wanted to correct.
So given my diminished capacity, I’ll tackle those, and tack on a past post about a simple and delicious technique for cooking mushrooms. After all, as I was raking recently I found a bunch of wild mushrooms growing on my lawn. I know enough not to eat these mushrooms since the ones that are delicious and the ones that can kill you can often look deceptively similar. So unless you are a true mushroom expert, which is unlikely, buy them from a reputable source before executing this fool proof method.
Ease On Down the Road
There is a very delicate balance between teaching kids about what is good food and screwing them up for life. Recently Young Master Fussy came home from school and wanted to share with me something bad that happened over the course of the day. I sat down with him, ready to listen, and was prepared for something of magnitude.
It turns out he spied one of his friends drinking a bottle of SunnyD.
I didn’t see that one coming, but it makes sense. This is what happens when you systematically deprive kids of the things that are normal for most people. Like hot dogs. He was reading books long before he got a bite of a real wiener. At least I made sure his first one was memorable.
I’m trying to ease up on some of the food restrictions. We also just came back from a significant road trip, and the rules of the road are always a bit more flexible than those at home. Plus the trip brought us through Philadelphia again.
When you wrap up all these factors, it became very clear that now was the time for the children to get their first taste of the Whiz.
Where Did the Sanity Go?
Those who follow the FUSSYlittleBLOG daily are aware that I am down in Washington D.C. with Young Master Fussy and Little Miss Fussy for the Rally to Restore Sanity. We had some stunningly delicious pizza in New Jersey. Given that Mrs. Fussy wasn’t there, it was a real treat to get a pie with onions.
The rally was both delightful and a bit of a disappointment. I was glad that we went to participate and be counted. But I wish they had louder speakers, or at least more of them. Eventually we had to leave since we weren’t really hearing much of what was going on.
It meant more time for museums, monuments and memorials than we might have had otherwise. But they say something about the best laid plans. Besides not being able to fully participate in the rally, the other critical part of our D.C. trip also took an unexpected turn.
Candy, Candy, Candy, I Can’t Let You Go
It’s crunch time. There will be Halloween parties tonight, and all through the weekend in advance of the big event on Sunday evening. Fortunately I’m missing the whole thing. Hopefully my house doesn’t get egged too badly while I’m away.
But if you don’t have candy on hand, it’s time to get cracking.
Last year around this time I did a post on my favorite candies, including my favorite one to receive on Halloween. Other people seem to love the Reese’s peanut butter cups. I understand where they are coming from, and I do love the contrast of sweet and savory, but the Reese’s peanut butter itself is just so bad. It’s true.
Anyhow, since I’m on the road, and since there have been a flood of new readers, and since my thoughts on the matter remain unchanged, I thought it would be interesting to repost something for the first time. The words below were originally posted on October 31, 2009.
Mrs. Fussy loves anything sweet. If I bring it into the house, even if it’s for me, she will eat it before I have the chance. Although I know she has an especially soft spot in her heart for Snickers.
Her mom also has a sweet tooth. Apparently she drops into the Boyer’s Mallo Cup factory store so often, she is a fixture there. As a side note, if you have never had a Mallo Cup fresh from the factory, I would argue you have never had a Mallo Cup. When they are fresh, the mallow center is remarkably soft and runny, not firm and gummy like you will find on most store shelves.
Young Master Fussy seems to go through stages. Recently he has had a thing for lollipops, especially the Dum-Dum variety pack (although he doesn’t care for the root beer ones).
You may not have guessed this, but my favorite candy generally shifts with my mood.
A Little Bit of Moderation
My great grandfather always seemed impossibly old. He lived into his nineties. And whenever anyone asked, he credited his longevity to moderation. That was the secret, he said.
I heard the message. It is emblazoned in my memory. I can even still hear him saying the words. But somehow his advice never really sank in.
But in some ways I’m moderate. One specific way is politically. I’ll parse my specific political beliefs on some other blog at some other time, but suffice it to say that I think both sides of the aisle have good ideological points. I think there are a lot of people like me out there. And tomorrow I’m leaving to go meet a few of them.
Yes, I’m packing up the FUSSYlittleCAR and bringing the FUSSYlittleFAMILY to Washington D.C. for the Rally to Restore Sanity.
You’ll never guess what I’m looking forward to most.
Two Top Pizzas: So Much to Love
Maybe you didn’t see the video. Steve Barnes took a small crew to the shops of the two finalists in the All Over Albany 2010 Tournament of Pizza. While he was there, Steve spoke with the proprietors, and each owner did a little show and tell about the pizza they were submitting to the finals.
If you haven’t seen it yet, you really must. It’s here. Click now. I’ll wait.
Last year the finals were a bit underwhelming. This year that wasn’t the case. There was so much to love. And the video only served to heighten the anticipation. By this point, you’ve seen the numbers, so you know that Marino’s of Schenectady was crowned the Best Pizza in the Capital Region by AOA.
Honestly, I have a hard time believing it myself. Did you see the picture of DeFazio’s pie? It’s gorgeous. But I also saw a lot of unusual decisions being made all along the way in this year’s TOP. And more often than not, it was me that was making them.
Here is the last installment of my behind the scenes look at the judges’ table. Promise.
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