I've always loved April and Easter and the middle of spring. No small reason is that April is my birthday month, and I happen to think it's the perfect month to have a birthday. After more than three decades of such birthdays, I think I'm more than qualified to make that statement.
Ever since college, as my birthday draws near, I have this momentary pause where my stomach squeezes and I wonder if I'm going to panic about growing older. One more year closer to whatever end is in store. One more year to get more wrinkles and rounder in the middle, for my body to ache in new inventive ways. But that moment passes like a siren on a highway, and it's gone.
And I'm left feeling great. No doubt I am a little older, and I can't drink like I used-to-could. But things are so much better than my 20s! I am a better writer, better wife (oh goodness, marriage before 27 should be banned), better friend (by not trying to be friends with everyone). I am in better health, have more money (finally), and have more fun (by learning to say no).
These days, when I meet people right out of college, I do not envy their youth. I shake my head and pat their shoulders and tell them, don't worry, it takes at least another decade before you figure it out.
And of course champagne only gets better by the decade (it is wine, after all). One such champagne that spanned three decades and tasted all the better for it was the Billecart-Salmon Cuveé Elisabeth Salmon Brut Rosé 1999 ($180). It had far more carbonation than should have been possible after so many years, as if the grapes were excited to finally greet the world again in their new, intoxicating form. It smelled like a bouquet of roses and tasted absolutely delicious. Ah, yes, this is life.
Score: She gives it a 5, he gives it a 4.
Recommended: Yes, yes, oh yes!
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
The Cold War of Words
I heard a story a few days ago on the news that indicated the SATs will be changing, yet again. I have to admit, the math changes disturb me little; there was always too much abstract geometry in there, and trust me, you never need abstract geometry. We have computers for that!
But I was saddened, disheartened, nay, dispirited to learn that the College Board will be making the essay section optional and eliminating many of the dreaded "SAT words" from the test. Oh, my dear readers, this is a travesty! Without a need to study rare words, most students will never encounter them at all. Call me a logophile (after you look it up), but I distinctly remember the day I joyously discovered "saturnine" and used it in a sentence. It was ninth grade. I think it was a Tuesday.
And while computers are wonderful at solving equations, they simply cannot mask bad writing. Language is far too complex to capture in an algorithm. This is something that must be practiced, continually, and with relish.
I am forced to read the writing of others almost every day, and come to tears nearly as often by the grating nature of the trite prose I encounter. Give me some variety, people! Buy a thesaurus! Or if you are too cheap for Roget, use the free version online. At the very least, learn to end a thought. (Or is it that your thoughts never end?)
One of my favorite writers in English is Vladimir Nabokov. Yes, he was from freakin' Russia. English was his third language, and he used it better than virtually anyone else I've ever read or known. It's time to step it up, America.
It isn't that I'm opposed to change. And I'm sure the new tests will more accurately reflect what students learn in the classroom. But that is precisely the point. Students are not learning the full breadth and depth of the English language. They are not learning that there are actual words to describe specific feelings, objects, and events. And I believe people who cannot fully describe life, cannot fully experience it either.
If you would like to test your writing acumen, try describing your next glass of sparkling wine, like the Gocce di Luna Moondrops Prosecco ($14). It's inexpensive, so you can waste a few bad adjectives on it as you practice. We found it to be furiously bubbly, with torrents of gas like a hot tub in winter, and dulcet apple tones that made our mouths pucker.
And now it's your turn. Long live words!
Score: A unanimous 3.
Recommended: Easy to drink for those who like sweeter wines.
But I was saddened, disheartened, nay, dispirited to learn that the College Board will be making the essay section optional and eliminating many of the dreaded "SAT words" from the test. Oh, my dear readers, this is a travesty! Without a need to study rare words, most students will never encounter them at all. Call me a logophile (after you look it up), but I distinctly remember the day I joyously discovered "saturnine" and used it in a sentence. It was ninth grade. I think it was a Tuesday.
And while computers are wonderful at solving equations, they simply cannot mask bad writing. Language is far too complex to capture in an algorithm. This is something that must be practiced, continually, and with relish.
I am forced to read the writing of others almost every day, and come to tears nearly as often by the grating nature of the trite prose I encounter. Give me some variety, people! Buy a thesaurus! Or if you are too cheap for Roget, use the free version online. At the very least, learn to end a thought. (Or is it that your thoughts never end?)
One of my favorite writers in English is Vladimir Nabokov. Yes, he was from freakin' Russia. English was his third language, and he used it better than virtually anyone else I've ever read or known. It's time to step it up, America.
It isn't that I'm opposed to change. And I'm sure the new tests will more accurately reflect what students learn in the classroom. But that is precisely the point. Students are not learning the full breadth and depth of the English language. They are not learning that there are actual words to describe specific feelings, objects, and events. And I believe people who cannot fully describe life, cannot fully experience it either.
If you would like to test your writing acumen, try describing your next glass of sparkling wine, like the Gocce di Luna Moondrops Prosecco ($14). It's inexpensive, so you can waste a few bad adjectives on it as you practice. We found it to be furiously bubbly, with torrents of gas like a hot tub in winter, and dulcet apple tones that made our mouths pucker.
And now it's your turn. Long live words!
Score: A unanimous 3.
Recommended: Easy to drink for those who like sweeter wines.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Brought to You By
This is a sponsored post. I'm making three dollars on the word.
I wish! Then I would give David Copperfield a run for its money.
But I am here to promote something. The husband and the cousin-in-law (is that a thing? can it be for now?) have started their own podcast. It's about the usual semi-nerdy guy stuff: video games, movies, more video games, comic books, and then some more video games. They are pretty entertaining, though, so ladies, check it out. They're both taken, though, so don't check it out that way. Just in a purely educational way. Their podcast is guaranteed 100% factual and high in fiber.
You can find it on iTunes here.
And if you're looking for something to drink while you're listening, you could try Moët + Chandon Nectar Imperial Rosé ($70). This champagne is as bubbly as a valley blonde with a frothy head and a very pretty rosé color. It is exactly as pink as it should be, and fairly sweet with a hint of raspberries. It has a smooth, sugary finish that tastes of caramel. Very juicy.
Score: She gives it a 3, he gives it a 3.5.
Recommended: Versus other rosés, it would be worth it if you could get it at a good price.
I wish! Then I would give David Copperfield a run for its money.
But I am here to promote something. The husband and the cousin-in-law (is that a thing? can it be for now?) have started their own podcast. It's about the usual semi-nerdy guy stuff: video games, movies, more video games, comic books, and then some more video games. They are pretty entertaining, though, so ladies, check it out. They're both taken, though, so don't check it out that way. Just in a purely educational way. Their podcast is guaranteed 100% factual and high in fiber.
You can find it on iTunes here.
And if you're looking for something to drink while you're listening, you could try Moët + Chandon Nectar Imperial Rosé ($70). This champagne is as bubbly as a valley blonde with a frothy head and a very pretty rosé color. It is exactly as pink as it should be, and fairly sweet with a hint of raspberries. It has a smooth, sugary finish that tastes of caramel. Very juicy.
Score: She gives it a 3, he gives it a 3.5.
Recommended: Versus other rosés, it would be worth it if you could get it at a good price.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Cartoons Are Shorter Than Expected
2014, we started you right. Namely, we started it with a trip to the happiest place on earth. Yes, Disneyland, which is still happy, after all these years.
I had been to the park many times in my youth, but had not visited since senior year of high school (I will leave it to the reader's imagination to decide how long ago that may be). Josh, on the other hand, had NEVER been to any Disney park, ever. A travesty from his youth, something that had to be remedied.
I was wondering if the park would still hold that immense sense of wonder and excitement it had when I was young. After all, I've been through a lot of "real world" experience since then. But yes, it is still magical. Even with crying children and snarky teenagers and over-priced food. The rides have become even better in the past decade. And California Adventure is a whole new world (haha) that mixes fantastic new rides with beer vendors. Finally. I teared up several times, and had a smile on my face after every single ride and show.
But the best part was when Josh got to meet Donald Duck. THE duck to end all ducks. Not only did he meet Donald, but he shared a duck dance with the guy (it involves a lot of tail waggles). After the pictures were over and we were walking away, we were both struck with the same thought. We always thought Donald would be taller.
A grand adventure deserves a grand wine. Try something like Veuve Cliquot La Grande Dame 1993 ($290). When we bought this wine at our local liquor store, the cashier had to ask "You do know how much this costs, right?". Yes, yes we do. And yes, it was worth every penny.
Score: 5s all around.
Recommended: Yes. With a Disney vacation. And a duck.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Progeny of Stars
I recently listened to a podcast in which an astronomer was discussing what many of us learned in grade school; that our bodies are made up of elements created during the supernovae of stars. She pointed out one element, iron, that courses through our blood every day, helping to deliver oxygen to our cells so our metabolism can continue without interruption.
And of course, it is true, a truth so simple it's easy to overlook. Yes, yes, we are made of stars. What does that really mean?
But I started to think of it from the other point of view. What about those stars? Most people think of a supernova as the death of a star; it's ultimate end here in the universe. And yet, if we are made of the stuff of these stars, then they still exist in this life. In our lives. We are the children of stars, and they are our parents.
I like to think there was a star, some six billion years ago, that, while orbiting the center of its particular galaxy, started to daydream about the future. It knew one day its mass would become so great its own gravity would cause an implosion, and, with enough gravity, a subsequent explosion that would spew its remains out past its own galaxy into the murky dark beyond. But this did not sadden the star, for this star knew that explosion was only the beginning. From there, the elements created from deep inside its mass would swirl and mingle with the remnants of other stars. And eventually, billions of years later, these elements would organize themselves into complex organisms like humans, organisms who could laugh and cry and look up at the stars and wonder. Wonder how they came to be in this universe, as people, tied to a planet called Earth. And the star was content, for it knew exactly where these people came from. They came from deep inside the hearts of all the ancient stars.
If you are going to do your own star-gazing, you might like to accompany it with a glass of Champagne Jacquesson Cuvee No. 734 ($53). This was recommended to us by the owner of a small wine shop in the city. Once in the glass, it had bubbles that swirled almost exactly like a little tempest. It smelled clean and fruity, and initially tasted of sweet apple juice. The depth from the added pinot noir grapes was very evident, with a grapey tastes that almost bursts on your tongue. It was very smooth, and left almost no aftertaste.
Score: She gives it a 3.5, he gives it an almost 3.
Recommended: It was talked up to be one of the best champagnes in the world. It's certainly not that, but it ain't bad.
And of course, it is true, a truth so simple it's easy to overlook. Yes, yes, we are made of stars. What does that really mean?
But I started to think of it from the other point of view. What about those stars? Most people think of a supernova as the death of a star; it's ultimate end here in the universe. And yet, if we are made of the stuff of these stars, then they still exist in this life. In our lives. We are the children of stars, and they are our parents.
I like to think there was a star, some six billion years ago, that, while orbiting the center of its particular galaxy, started to daydream about the future. It knew one day its mass would become so great its own gravity would cause an implosion, and, with enough gravity, a subsequent explosion that would spew its remains out past its own galaxy into the murky dark beyond. But this did not sadden the star, for this star knew that explosion was only the beginning. From there, the elements created from deep inside its mass would swirl and mingle with the remnants of other stars. And eventually, billions of years later, these elements would organize themselves into complex organisms like humans, organisms who could laugh and cry and look up at the stars and wonder. Wonder how they came to be in this universe, as people, tied to a planet called Earth. And the star was content, for it knew exactly where these people came from. They came from deep inside the hearts of all the ancient stars.
If you are going to do your own star-gazing, you might like to accompany it with a glass of Champagne Jacquesson Cuvee No. 734 ($53). This was recommended to us by the owner of a small wine shop in the city. Once in the glass, it had bubbles that swirled almost exactly like a little tempest. It smelled clean and fruity, and initially tasted of sweet apple juice. The depth from the added pinot noir grapes was very evident, with a grapey tastes that almost bursts on your tongue. It was very smooth, and left almost no aftertaste.
Score: She gives it a 3.5, he gives it an almost 3.
Recommended: It was talked up to be one of the best champagnes in the world. It's certainly not that, but it ain't bad.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Adam and Eve - No Fig Leaves, Just Wine
I recently wrote a very short story for the NPR Three Minute Fiction challenge (which is really enjoyable, by the way, everyone should do it). I'll share my story here; it's a riff on a very old allegory.
Memos
Sarah was typing the
second-to-last memo of the day. This one on the importance of good
hygiene when using the restroom. Not that anyone didn't practice good
hygiene; it would be in violation of company rules. And no one could
disobey company rules. But reminders never hurt.
With the last click of her
tidy keyboard, Sarah finished the memo and ran spellcheck. Satisfied
that nothing was amiss, she clicked the “Send” button and the
email was off to the rest of the staff.
Sarah glanced up. Across the
room from her, in front of the window that looked out over a verdant
office park, John was busy with spreadsheets. He sensed Sarah's gaze
upon him and looked up. They smiled.
“I dusted off the books in
the conference room today. You mentioned they needed a good
cleaning.” Sarah knew this would make John happy.
“Thank you. The boss will
be pleased the next time she has a meeting.” John was pleased that
Sarah took the time to do something for the good of their boss, which
was the whole reason they were there. “Which reminds me, before the
boss left, she mentioned one of the keys on her keyboard was sticky.
Would you have time to clean it?”
“Of course!” Sarah
beamed as she rose from her desk and went to the supply cupboard in
the corner near the copy machine. She plucked a can of electronics
cleaning spray and a small cloth from inside, then strode to the
glass door on the other side of the room. She opened it and entered.
A great mahogany desk sat in
the middle of the room. Rays of light streamed in from large windows.
The desk was almost empty, holding just a flatscreen monitor, a
keyboard, and a large day planner. Sarah sat on the plush black chair
in front of the keyboard and lifted the can of cleaning fluid. She
was about to press the lever when she noticed a piece of paper tucked
under the edge of keyboard. A private memo with the title “Apple.”
Sarah quickly looked away.
She knew access to the boss's documents was forbidden, and she wasn't
sure if reading the title of a memo would count. She busied herself
with her cleaning duties. But the memo remained there, staring at her
as she worked.
Sarah had always wondered
what the boss did in her office all day. She knew it was something
important, that the whole company depended on it, but she didn't know
why it was never discussed. And this was a very short memo; just one
line from what she could tell. Would it do any harm to read it?
She grasped the edge of the
memo. Holding her breath, she pulled it out from under the keyboard
and saw this sentence in haunting black and white:
“THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THE
COMPANY WHO DISOBEY THE RULES. THIS IS THEIR CHOICE.”
Sarah's eyes grew wide.
Before she could think, she dropped the spray can and cloth on the
desk and ran out of the office. She flew to John's desk and slapped
the memo down on his keyboard. He stopped working, glanced at the
memo, and gasped.
“Sarah, what is this!”
“It's the truth!”
“You found this on the
boss's desk, didn't you? We have to put it back.”
“No, I'm not giving it
back. The others need to know. I'm writing another memo.”
Sarah rushed back to her
desk and starting typing the last memo of the day.
And that's it! Short and sweet. There's something liberating about a tiny word limit. You can only use the words that absolutely matter to the story.
The wine choice for this week is the Veuve Clicqout Rose´ ($65). It smelled delicious and fruity straight out of the bottle, with a great pinkish/blush color. It had a fruity flavor with a little hint of spice that balanced the sugars nicely. It had a sharp finish and only a dash of bready flavor to it (so if you don't like bready champagnes, you will like this). And it goes very well with chocolate.
Score: She gives it a 4.5, he gives it a 4.
Recommended: Yes indeed!
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Maybe We Should Have PBR Instead?
Today was a sad day, my friends. Today, the restaurant Josh and I loved so much - the first restaurant we ever ate at in the Haight, the restaurant we went to on the day we moved in to our apartment together - has closed. Technically, it will reopen in a few months, but only technically. We've talked with the staff, and it sounds like the owners are going for a complete remodel and new menu in order to try to turn a profit. So the name will be the same, but nothing else.
We loved this place because it was like home. It was unpretentious and flawed. The booths had rips in the seats. The paint was peeling. But everyone was so gosh darned nice. The wait staff was charming and sweet. The food was dependable and delicious and even healthy at times (tempeh sandwiches, vegetarians rejoice!). It was totally affordable in a city that is increasingly not. It had art on the walls from the 70s and a beaded curtain in front of the stairs that led to the bathroom. It felt like this city should always feels - freewheeling and comforting at the same time. And it had pitchers of PBR.
Change happens, and no one can deny that turning a profit in the restaurant biz is hard. It's really hard. We get it. But it doesn't make it easier to let go. We just hope the new place doesn't become too hipster. Please, don't start cooking with lard and truffles. Please.
To celebrate what was, and mourn our loss, we drink one of the finest champagnes we've ever had - the 1993 Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame ($290). You've probably guessed we love our Veuve, and it's true. This champagne is amazing, delicious, and worth every penny. We actually bought this for Valentine's Day at the liquor store down the street. When we asked the cashier to retrieve it from the locked mini refrigerator, he asked if we realized how much it cost. We assured him we did (maybe we shouldn't wear torn jeans and sweatshirts when buying fine wine? Oh well, it's the Bay Area, we could be Dot Com billionaires for all he knows). If you have the money, buy this.
And to all our favorite wait staff from All You Knead, this glass is for you.
We loved this place because it was like home. It was unpretentious and flawed. The booths had rips in the seats. The paint was peeling. But everyone was so gosh darned nice. The wait staff was charming and sweet. The food was dependable and delicious and even healthy at times (tempeh sandwiches, vegetarians rejoice!). It was totally affordable in a city that is increasingly not. It had art on the walls from the 70s and a beaded curtain in front of the stairs that led to the bathroom. It felt like this city should always feels - freewheeling and comforting at the same time. And it had pitchers of PBR.
Change happens, and no one can deny that turning a profit in the restaurant biz is hard. It's really hard. We get it. But it doesn't make it easier to let go. We just hope the new place doesn't become too hipster. Please, don't start cooking with lard and truffles. Please.
To celebrate what was, and mourn our loss, we drink one of the finest champagnes we've ever had - the 1993 Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame ($290). You've probably guessed we love our Veuve, and it's true. This champagne is amazing, delicious, and worth every penny. We actually bought this for Valentine's Day at the liquor store down the street. When we asked the cashier to retrieve it from the locked mini refrigerator, he asked if we realized how much it cost. We assured him we did (maybe we shouldn't wear torn jeans and sweatshirts when buying fine wine? Oh well, it's the Bay Area, we could be Dot Com billionaires for all he knows). If you have the money, buy this.
And to all our favorite wait staff from All You Knead, this glass is for you.
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