John Marshall Chapter of the American Wine Society

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John Marshall Chapter

MARCH MEETING: California De-Napafied, Part I – The Santa Cruz Mountains, presented by Bruce Schaefer and Rene Beck

In March, Bruce and Renee did a slide show – thanks to Joe LaPanna, who produced a projector at the last minute – of their January trip thru the Santa Cruz, California, mountains. The point was to see what life there is after Napa, with its trounce-your-wallet tasting fees and gridlock on weekends. Life, it turns out, is good, and plentiful. And, Santa Cruz is not a bad place to start: close as it is to both San Francisco and San Jose airports. The area is home to over 40 wineries, of which Ridge and Bonny Doon may be the best known, the latter as much for its quirky humor and tee-shirt graphics as its wines. The tasting included the wine shown in the table below.

The real kudos for the evening went to Jennifer, our reigning queen of cuisine, who presented a dazzling array of cheeses, including a very smoky gouda, olive bread, and a homemade puff pastry. It was like Pavlov had rung his bell. Thanks be to you, Jennifer. You’re right up there with Mr. Gore.

Producer	Year	Varietal	Region	Price	Purchased	Comment
Cristalino Brut		Cava	Spain	$6	Total Beverage	Bargain of the evening – very good
Francois Bouillot		Cremant	France	$10	Total Beverage	Close favorite of the bubblies
Ridge	2001	Chardonnay	California	$17	Total Beverage
Byington	2001	Gewurztraminer	California	$17		Favored of the two whites
Organic Wines	2000	Cabernet Sauvignon	California	$20
Hallcrest	2001	Meritage	California	$13 (closeout)		Preferred over the Cabernet Sauvignon by 17 to 1
Storrs	2001	Zinfandel	California	$22		Lost battle of the Zins
Savannah	2001	Zinfandel	California	$15		Battle of the Zins was close – 7 to 9 – Savannah
Bonny Doon	2002	Ruche	California	$16		A few of us loved it and everyone loved the label

APRIL MEETING: Terroir in the Middle East – Wines of Lebanon, presented by Mary Anne and Mike Wassenberg ~ Grace Cathedral, The Plains, Virginia; Social – 6:30 p.m.; Meeting – 7:00 p.m. (Note that this tasting will be rescheduled to the first Sunday of the month since the second Sunday is Easter.)

Last year, it was Missouri. This year, it’s the Middle East. Mike and Mary Anne continue in their quest to bring us “Good Grapes from God-forsaken Places.” To buttress their case that the Middle East is not such an unusual place to look for wine, Mary Anne forwarded an article last week about the wines discovered in the pyramids with the mummies. Science has finally determined what kind of wines they were: red, a bit heavy on the nose, with a whiff of that band-aid smell indicating the pharaoh’s plonk was a trifle corked. Parker would have given it a naught, but the scientists said it was definitely red. Lebanon is only a few doors up the sea from Egypt, and, of course, far more civilized. So join the wine jihadis as we issue a fervent fatwah: no wine before its time, Abdul. Wear a turban, bring a guest. This will be a good one!

Directions:

From D.C., take I-66 to Exit 31, The Plains.
At the first stop sign, turn right.
Go 3 miles to the stop sign at the T-intersection in downtown The Plains.
Turn left, then go 2 blocks.
You can’t miss it — it’s the only cathedral in town.

APRIL MEETING: Don't Cry For Me, Argentina, presented by George Wilson ~ Grace Cathedral, The Plains, Virginia; Social – 6:30 p.m.; Meeting – 7:00 p.m. ( Note that this tasting will be on Mother's Day so bring your Mom.)

Argentina. The truth is, we never left you. And in May, George Wilson will reunite us with a collection of Malbecs, Merlots, and Cabernets to really make you weep. Last year, bedecked in polo regalia, George matched his pampas reds with Argi beef, barbecued right there in the Cathedral kitchen. The evening was a smash, and next month promises to be another one. Sarah Brightman will be there, Andrew Lloyd, maybe Evita herself. George will be leading the tango again in his polo leathers. He’ll keep his promises so don’t you keep your distance. Just be there on May 9. Comprende?.

WINO WISDOM: The Manly Art of Wine, Part III – How to Swashbuckle

Over the past few months, I have tried here to highlight a critical national problem: the accelerating decline of American manhood. And, I have pointed out the related danger of replacing wine corks with screwcaps. Not only will this remove 80 percent of the romance of wine, but it will also remove 100 percent of one of American man’s last manly functions: the pulling out of those corks. Last month, I presented the possibility of sabrage, the practice of opening wine bottles with a sword. Not only does it make corks more appealing since you can’t saber a screwcap, but it also opens a whole new landscape of activity that is virtually exempt to the distaff side.

Because the subject is so sensitive, I previously directed my comments toward just the male readers of this newsletter, touching as it does upon things close to the fragile male ego. It comes to my attention, however, that some women have been reading the articles anyway. They slogged past the tool talk and the butt cracks to read of our deepest concerns. Some have written to ask if they make ladies’ swords for removing corks. "No," I answered! Perhaps something shorter in length or with frilly trim, they suggested. Horrified, I answered, "No! No!" One woman even proposed a women’s sabrage group called Ladies Of The Sword (LOST). You will note that she is dyslexic.

So, today, I make no more effort to conceal. Our column today, gentlemen, will take us past the ambivalent places where women participate, and sometimes even dominate, gulp. Today we will move onto that firm, high, muscular ground where a man is a man, and that’s that.

Our goal is to be able to walk into a place full of people, remove the corks of up to seven bottles of wine with one slash of our sword, and leave that audience apoplectic, eyes big as sewer lids. The question that immediately arises is: "How do I explain the sword?" Not many people wear swords anymore. You SURE won’t get thru the airport with one. So, how do I appear with a sword and not be eyed as a wacko? We need a context.

Our forefathers, who invented sabrage, were cavalrymen whose swords were part of their uniforms. Unfortunately, cavalries went away about when tanks came in. But uniforms, that’s a thought…

There in the back, I see a hand. You say the Marine Corps uniform includes a sword. Very good. Indeed it does, but the only way to get that uniform is to join the Marines. The Corps wouldn’t want most of us American Wine Society members. We’re all paunchy, out of shape, dissolute, grumpy. If you can get in, by all means, do so. Sign on, sail away, write me when you get to Bagdad, and we'll see you in, oh, about five years.

No, there is another, better way, and once again it comes from the internet. [I LOVE this Internet thingy; every night, before I go to bed, I say aloud, "Thank you, Al Gore, for this Internet thingy."] Simply go to http://www.dragoon.com and order yourself — major drum roll here — a uniform for Her Majesty’s Royal Dragoons. That’s right, the Queen of England’s personal royal guards. For $500, you can order a full uniform consisting of an orange jacket with brass buttons, black pants, and — this is just too incredible! — a beefeater’s hat! That’s right, tthat two-foot tall bearskin affair you see on the gin bottle! The sword is extra, but you’ve got that already.

Ok, I can hear a clamoring out there so we will go into Question-Answer mode now.

Question: Why would I want to wear a British uniform?
Answer: Because it is British and therefore very cool. Like Bond…James Bond. For whatever reason, we Americans are in utter awe of Brits so your appearance in Beefeater’s attire will gain the immediate and total respect of all around you. [Note: this admiration is in spite of some very twit British behavior that we Americans choose to overlook. Such as curtseying. And the naming of Nigels. Do you realize England is the only civilized country in the world that still recognizes the name Nigel? In fact British law requires that every eighth male baby be named Nigel, assuring that each and every one of them, without exception, will grow up a silly twit.]

Question: I’m an American. How do I explain myself as a British Beefeater?
Answer: Tell them you’re in the Dragoon reserves. That you go over there several weekends a year and drill with the blokes. Tell them it’s like the Air National Guard, and you serve at your leisure. Tell them you’ve been detailed to North America to a Beefeater bivouac in Virginia. Don’t tell any outright lies, mind you. That would be wrong. Just embellish a bit.

Question: Can women join the Beefeaters?
Answer: NO! There are NO Beefeatresses! Only beefeaters. However, ladies can join the Marine Corps so write when you get to Bagdad.

Question: Do Beefeaters really eat beef?
Answer: You bet they do, mate, and they chase it down with plenty ’a red wine. Remember how they killed and burned all those mad cows a few years ago? That’s how it smells when the beefeaters’ tailgate. Unfortunately, due to centuries of English cuisine, their pairing skills are not so good. For instance they’ll match a perfectly good pinot grigio with pig snouts boiled in top ramen. We Americans know that top ramen requires a chianti.

Question: If I am in Her Majesty’s Royal Dragoons, what is my rank?
Answer: Sergeant-Major Lieutenant. Remember, however, the Brits pronounce it leftenant as more twit behavior.

Question: Will I lose my citizenship if I am caught in a foreign army uniform?
Answer: Yes, so don’t get caught. If you’re arrested by the Border Patrol, tell them that you’re part of a marching band and/or that you’re going to a Halloween party. Salute the flag. Say the pledge. But again, no outright lies. Just embellish. If all that fails, write when you get to Guantanamo.

I see no more hands. All your questions have been answered. Good. Now order your uniforms. One more word of advice: the order form offers the choice of a real bearskin hat, or faux bearskin. Go for the faux because real bearskin attracts real bees. Nothing is more ludicrous than a Beefeater trying to defend his hat from bees with a sword. That’ll kill your credibility in a trice.

Next month, you will have your sword and Dragoon uniform, and I will instruct you further. By June, you will have this sabrage down to a fine art, just in time for the summer wine festivals and events. History will one day show that it was in Summer 2004 when the tide finally turned against the screwcap, and corks were restored to wine bottles everywhere. History will further show that the turning began right here in Northern Virginia, with the American Wine Society and you, mes amis. God save the Queen! And, God bless Al Gore.

Good night to all. See you in church!

Your humble scribe,

~ Bruce ~

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