I worked in a restaurant in my younger years, one that sold wine and thus required me to attain a (low) level of mastery in uncorking bottles. It has not, for me, been a life-changing skill to possess but, nonetheless, it is a skill in which I have remained somewhat facile, much to the thrill of the ladies. Okay, that last part is a giant exaggeration. Needless to say, I can open a wine bottle with the best of 'em.
I emailed an acquaintance who is bringing a new Riesling to market soon and I asked him his opinion of Albarino wines since they were described to me as "Riesling clones". I thought I'd share a bit of what I wrote to him about a Rias Baixas we recently tasted (y'know, so I can, like, officially have tasting notes on here ... use at your own risk). Now - I realize that Rias Baixas is the region, but I unfortunately disposed of the bottle and cannot recall the name of the vineyard. Sorry! I'll update if it turns out my wife rescued the bottle by chance.
Geeking out often leads to information overload. One becomes so enamored of a thing that they seek data about it from any and, often, all sources. Such is my affliction when it comes to wine these days, and thus how I found my way to Winemaker Extraordinaire - a fun, "wine biz" game for the iPad.
When I was growing up my family had a psychotic dog. Once, the dog (his name was Chumley - strikes fear in the heart, no?) and I were playing with his rawhide chew toy - he would bring it to me, we'd play tug-of-war with it, I'd win, throw it across the room, and he'd come trotting back with it for more. On about the dozenth or so go at it, Chumley dropped the toy at my feet where I sat on the floor, wagging his tail and with a big ol' doggy smile on his face. I picked up the rawhide for one more round of tug-of-war and Chumley, logically, lunged at my face and took a bite out of my chin. It wasn't bad, just a tiny gash, but I was more distraught by how he had turned on a dime like that.
I am a serial geek. I hop amongst areas of interest like a ... like a cat hopping ... uh ... amongst timbers in a shipwreck. Yeah, that's it. I throw myself into the subject matter as a madman throws himself into a padded wall at the asylum. I devour the topic-du-jour the way my SUV devours petrol. And then I become bored and quit. Such is the life of a serial hobbyist.
