Recession Reds: Billy and Grano!!!

Good Afternoon, friends, foes and Dean Tudor, who's appointed himself my official spel chekker!

...and of course, a hearty greeting to all the rest of you Malbec swilling shower of feckless defermentables!

BITE ME CRANK!!!

So the pleasantries dealt with, let us commence. Normally, I'd be listening to a little Acca/Dacca or Geto Boyz for inspiration, but today it's Glenn Gould all the way. I began with Schoenberg (Voice and Piano) , but there's something about the lilting brutality of the German language that's more counterproductive than contrapuntal. So now it's Gould playing Beethoven's solo piano variations. As many of you know, I'm obsessed with Glenn Gould, even going so far as to place flowers on his grave each year, on the anniversary of his death - and no, I didn't see any of you there. I'm so much a follower of Gould's genius, that I see no point in anyone else ever playing piano again; it's now a closed field, like optics.

But I digress...

2 nights ago was a major blast. The Deaconess and I headed across Egg Lantern Ave. and down Young Street with Don Velouche Brutus and Kathryn the Great, to Grano for a Billy Munnelly speshul event: Recession Reds. Now if you've never checked out Grano, you MUST do so. The owner and host, Roberto Martella, does a truly mega-lurch job. In fact, in a city of great restaurants, Roberto is one of the 3 truly classy dudes who excel in the gracious host department. (The other 2 are of course Sol Benarroch from Sette Mezzo, and John Maxwell from Allen's) Screw the Iron Chef! I think there should be an Iron Host TV show, and these three can take on anybody in the frickin' world...and win!

So Billy arranged this amazing evening with about 20 different bottles of red wine under 10 bucks. The tasting was done blind and was followed by a fantastic spagetti and meatball dinner with more wine included, all supplied gratis. (That's "free of charge" if you live in Keswick) It started out as a small affair for about 20 people and grew to take over the entire restaurant, which Roberto made available for the tasting. We got there about 15 minutes early and the line was right out into the street, which didn't prevent a huge star like your humble Deacon from muscling to the very front. It's actually easy to do. You just alternate yelling "Woman with child" and "I'm having a stroke!" It works every time. Failing that, you can try yelling "SARS!" or "Unclean! I am a leper!" That will get you in almost anywhere ahead of the crowd...

Anywhere except the frickin' ER, it would seem. Your humble Deacon had pneumonia a few weeks back and went to Sunnybrook Hospital Emergency, since I regard the geographically closer, Toronto East General as the Guantanamo Bay of hospitals and Scarlem General more the place I'd pick if I wanted a lethal injection. Well we went to Sunnybrook, which is bright and clean and has everything you could possibly want in a hospital...except doctors. Apparently, you're supposed to bring your own. One poor dude had been waiting since 4PM and it was now nearly 2:30 AM! I kid you not. I checked myself out and we saw my own GP the next day. Your tax dollars at work, folks...I was going to yell "Bite my feverish wand!" as I dragged myself out, but the phalanx of security guards were a bit too serious looking for a man with lungs full of fluid to fight and prevail.

But back to Grano...

Anyway, Billy and Kato kept it all running smoothly (the Grano event, not the ER) and there were 3 rooms full of shouting, drinking, laughing people, some of whom forgot it was a tasting and tried to get their "money's worth". There were a lot of vino heavyweights there too, including The Star's Gord Stimmell, Charles Baker of Stratus (and his own Riesling) fame, Graham Duncan, from Drinksville Media, and the Globe and Mail's Beppi Crosariol, who was very gracious and came over to meet the Deaconess.

"He's much younger in person than he looks in his picture!" she said as he walked away. You hear that Beppi? That's a compliment. Much better than having the frickin' Dorian Gray thing happening...

When it was all judged and tallied, not surprisingly, the plebs didn't get it to a large degree. They naturally went with Ubantu and Obikwa, the smooth, soft, predictable New World offerings. It breaks my heart to see someone take a sip of Montepulciano d'Abbruzzo and crinkle their face in disgust.

Morons...Your bus is leaving.

You're supposed to drink it with food. I complained to Billy about this and told him that everyone at our table was talking about Malbec and how it's all they drink. They still don't understand rustic wines that have a little bitterness and are made to go great with food.

"It's alright Deacon" he said smiling. "They're slowly coming around..."

Kudos to Grano for a total blast. Thanks Billy and Kato. I'll see you at the next one!

Note to Sunnybrook Hospital:

Hire some effing doctors!

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Still alive, despite the best attempts of the Ontario health care system

Who is John Galt?

This just in:

The World's gone mad.

And now back to our regularly scheduled SOMA broadcast...

Greetings crop circle enthusiasts, survivalists, and watchers of Sirius everywhere!

And a wide variety of clever and brilliantly cutting comments to the rest of you I-Phone worshiping DIX!

Has anyone else had that nasty cough with body ache and skin soreness, or is it just me? I'd like to hear from our shut-ins, especially all of you still recovering from the latest round of completely natural virus infections that aren't intentionally spread, and weren't manufactured in germ warfare labs at all.

So...last week I was invited to attend an industry professionals only wine tasting, put on by Jason Woodman of Woodman Wines and Spirits Inc. Now what made this particularly interesting, was the location of the event, namely the Spoke Club, at 600 King Street West. The Spoke Club is cloaked in mystery, and you've pretty well have to be royalty to even get a peek in the window, which is difficult if you can't fly, since it's on the 4th floor of the building.

I didn't want to be a keener, so I arrived an hour after start time, and parked a few blocks away. The front door was unremarkable, but equipped with an electronic finger-print pad that opened a small, triangular, sliding panel, revealing a retina scan. I placed my left eye against the aperture and found myself staring at a vintage Lotus Seven S II in an underground garage. I knocked shave and a haircut, and a computerized voice yelled "Passwords?" I shouted "Calling Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, Dr. Howard" and the door slid open, and I climbed into the Lotus and drove up a long steep ramp. After about 40 seconds, I emerged in the City of Westminster, London. I had nothing else to do, so I drove down another ramp and walked a long dark hallway, arriving at a room with maps and a moron behind a desk who kept asking me why I resigned, until I punched him in the face, putting an end to that foolishness. Then I drove to an apartment and decided to pack some stuff and fly to the Costa Brava, but a hearse arrived and a tall cracker in a top hat injected sleeping gas in the keyhole and I passed out. I awoke, slumped on a couch, with Michael "The Glans" Pinkus standing over me, laughing. "Welcome to the Spoke Club! That's some security system, eh?" he asked, grinning, and handing me a tumbler full of 1995 Champagne Henriot Cuvee des Enchanteleurs, which despite its $195.00 pricetag, seemed like a real deal. I had a headache from the sleeping gas, and rubbed my neck as I scoped the room. The ceiling was nearly 70 feet high, and festooned with Caravaggios and Tintorettos, which are "pitchers" to those of you in Keswick. There were about 20 other winos presents, and a couple of other people whom I recognized, including Ken Lay, Sirhan Sirhan, and Dean Tudor, who had somehow contrived to wind up behind the bar. I sidled up to the organizer, Jason Woodman, who was a really lurch dude and both friendly and knowledgable. I wanted him to know that unlike the other attendees, I actually "got" the event. I wolfed down a plate of roast quail, truffles, cheese and bread and guzzled a few glasses of 2005 First Drop Shiraz, Barossa, which was a mistake, because Pinkus and Tudor both told me it was only 2% alcohol, which was clearly a lie. It was actually 2% Albarino, which gives the Shiraz more kreft and zale. I liked it a lot, and it will be 33 bucks at Vintages on April 11th. (#107599).

After a couple more plates of free food, I began to look around a bit. There's a good sized bar in the centre of the room, and a circular flight of stairs leading up into the distance, past rows of priceless leather-bound books. You gotta hand it to Galen Weston, the Loblaws Czar, who's the wunderkind behind the Spoke Club. The Deaconess has taken tons of Loblaws cooking classes, and they really do a great job. Walmart can officially bite my wand forever.

After a while at the food table, I heard a commotion, and assumed Pinkus had splashed wine on one of the 16 first edition Gutenberg Bibles and Ann Rice books, but it wasn't his doing. A wine writer named Barbara Ritchie, suddenly leapt back from the table with a scream, and we all thought she was having a stroke. It turns out that her cellphone had just gone off in her front pants pocket. Pinkus said it must have been on vibrate. I said that based on her reaction, it was probably set on TASER!

I hung out for awhile with Graham Duncan (no relation to the badminton star), from Drinksville Media. Their tagline is All the Booze that's Fit to Drink. The vibe was good, and although there were some wines I liked more than others, the good ones were really good! One I especially liked was the sole Iberian offering: 2007 Palacios Remondo La Vendimia, Rioja. It's also at Vintages (#674564) or at least will be on March 28th. For only 16 bucks, I found it really interesting.

I hung out with Billy Munnelly for a bit, and then climbed the ladder to the upper eschelons, but wasn't allowed in where Bill Gates and Bono were playing Texas Hold-em against Prince Charles and Dick Cheney. I was shoed out by a couple of guys from Blackwater, and decended the stairs at terminal velocity to the main floor, where I said my goodbyes to Billy and the others. At the exit, I was handed my car keys and given a whiff of sleeping gas. I woke up on the Eastbound Gardiner Expressway, stuck in traffic. I'm still there.

Thanks to Jason Woodman for the invite! It's great to be back in the loop...

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Always on Everyone's A-List

I BE BACK, CRACKAHS!!!

So stop your lame-ass widdlin' and snivelin'! It is a glorious day in Scarlem because His Excellency, President Deacon Doctor Fresh - the Undefeated Welterweight Wine Fighting Champion of the World is back on the scene!

Control yourself ladies and hos! I got a wife!

Wassup, homeys and cheeseheads?

Now it's true that your Deacon has not put quill to parchment for a long time and of course, the whole effing planet's axing "Screw the economic meltdown! Where's the Deacon?" Well I'm here to tell y'all that it's been one fantastic whirlwind of a year. Not only has your humble Deacon guzzled about 3 bottles of quality vino a day since my last posting, but there's been a lot of other stuff goin'on too.

Thanks to all you mega-fanz who've stuck with me, even though I've been below the radar for reasons I'm about to explain. I kept hearing from people like Colio homey Doug Beatty and Billy Munnelly axin' your Deacon where he gone to. Your concern is appreciated, and your Deaconic addiction is about to be assuaged and mollified...Where else can you find a gangsta wine journalist that actually reads Ginsberg, Salinger, Basho and Machiavelli? Nowhere, peckah!

And now of course, the usual emetic and cathartic rant...

Greetings assorted DIX and bastards and a hearty ingest my banana to all you "extra-hot latte with soy milk" Stradlater-styled morons who don't understand how brilliant this gonzo wine column actually is!

What a fantastic rant that was! I didn't edit it at all, it just flowed in a stream of consciousness...Shades of Virginia Frickin Woolf!

So...there is so much to tell you that I don't know where to start. Last year, one of my peeps, Tony Aspler got the Order of Canada and deserves a hearty congratulations for it! This is the highest civilian recognition in the Great White North, and although we don't have to call him Sir Tony, I think it's probably a good idea and will help us all stay in his good books in case he winds up as Prime Minister some day. Now speaking of awards...

Around June last year, I got a mysterious phone-call on my cel, which surprised me, since almost nobody's got that number. It was this serious sounding guy and he axed me to meet him at the Four Seasons Hotel for drinks, and told me it would be "in my best interest". Now your humble Deacon's more than happy to meet a challenge head on, so I took the Bentley out of mothballs and roared downtown. I burst into the lobby bar and was met by a friendly black dude who was flanked by a couple of genuine heavies. I can't tell you his name due to issues of National Security, but his initials were B.O. It turned out that he was running for President of a major Super Power and wanted your Deacon's support. I axed what was in it for me and he axed what my price was, and I thought about it for a minute or two. Then I answered that I wanted the planet Mars. He seemed relieved and said that it was doable. All I had to do was make some hilariously damaging comments about his opponent and make sure they were widely circulated.

"You have an enormous influence on the general populace" he said smiling.

True dat!

I'd write the smear and his team would do the rest. I figured this was a good deal, and drove home and wrote a pamphlet describing his nemesis, John McC*in as a kimodo dragon wearing a suit and standing on its hind legs. Then I printed about a million of these on my HP printer and flew all over a certain country to the south in my Apache Attack Helicopter, dropping leaflets by the bundle. Rozeen and the South Central Wine Posse helped out.

Obviously it worked. The rest is history.

So awhile back, NASA sent a space plane for me and flew me to Mars where a huge 2 month long ceremony was held in my honour, with over 3,000 performers gathered at Cydonia where they have this giant face from a previous ancient civilization. I was presented with some gifts, including a crystal skull, a Mayan calendar and a bunch of diamonds and emeralds. We drank Krug Champagne and watched the sun rise between Phobos and Deimos, and then I was proclaimed Emperor of Mars.

That's right! I'm the effing Emperor of Mars!

Let's see you top that one, Aspler!

And you people thought your lives were interesting.

More to follow...

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Emperor and Legal Owner of the Planet Mars

Prime Cydonian Real Estate available! Act now!

You heard me.

Stratus and the Genius of J.L. Groux

Hello Normal People.

Yes, hello my normal friends, you wonderfully normal people who simply cannot live without my incredibly appropriate and entertaining information. Hail and well met! My fondest greetings are now yours, as I sit here writing and listening to Van Der Graaf Generator's new CD...

...and to all the rest of you super moronic, Brock and Judy faced Bone Jesters, who refuse to own a cel phone that's more than 2 weeks old, but sit around moroning, and bastarding, and focus on "important stuff" like getting as many flu shots as possible, and talking about how many miles per gallon your SUV gets, and reminiscing about how much money you had before the paper condom market collapsed...

Bite my rich red rocket!

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta...

OK...here we go. It was a beautifully clear, and mostly chemtrail-free day when my Ace Homeboy, Michael "The Glans" Pinkus, hooked up with your humble Deacon, under the fine stonework of Union Station. We met at Harvey's for what was advertised as "breakfast" and to call it vile would be to unfairly credit it with quality. I mean this would have been sent back by a starving salt mine worker in a gulag! We had originally envisioned a bacon and eggs with toast and coffee sort of meal, but instead found ourselves presented with Harvey's version of the usually tolerable Egg McMuffin. Imagine a slimy pale egg with a couple of strips of slithering undercooked bacon slopped to one side on top, with a slice of irradiated and anemic tomato under the entire open sore. Then imagine stuffing this mess into yesterday's hamburger bun, and you get a sense of the massive affront to our olfactory and gustatory senses. (That's smell and taste for those of you in Keswick) At least the McDonald's variant all fits together nicely, is actually filling, and a pretty good start to the day if you're in a rush. None of this can be said for the Harveys creation, which resembled a carbuncle wrapped in a crusty diaper. Only the addition of some depleted uranium could possibly have made it worse. Let's keep in mind too, that a hamburger bun is actually the cheapest piece of crap that can still be somehow classified as "bread". Now my question is: Why don't Amy Pataki and the Canadian League of Professional Ass Clowns, Criticasters, and Bone Jesters go after Harveys instead of picking on decent little restaurants that serve real food? There's a whole frickin' expose here folks...Calling W5...Anyway...I beat my "breakfast" with a plastic fork until it stopped struggling, and chucked it in the garbage, and Pinkus followed suit. Which leads us to another question? Why do we have to use plastic knives and forks at a railway station? Do they think if they give us metal cutlery, we're going to hijack a frickin' train?

So we walked back across Front Street from Union Station to board our Niagara bound bus. We crossed the busy road using a method I call "The Eglinton East Walk". It's pure Scarlem. You can get across any busy street, if you just cross without looking. That forces the drivers to assume full responsibility and slam on the brakes. Try it. It's awesome!

"Bus?" you ask. "What bus?" Well that's the really cool part. Pinkmeister and I were on the list for a trip to Niagara and lunch at Stratus, Ontario's Ultra-Lurch winery, and yes, they actually sent a cool little bus for the five of us! Now that's frickin' class! I left the gunmetal gray Aston Martin DB5 parked in front of the Royal York and we raucously boarded the mini-bus, Pinkus grabbing the best spot for himself, where he could stretch his size fourteens out in the aisle. Our driver Keith handed us each a snack bag with H2O, OJ, fresh muffins and croissants (crescent rolls to my Keswick readers) and we hit the Gardiner Expressway at full tilt. Within about 40 minutes, we took a break at the huge Wendy's and Tim Hortons and were off again. I won't give you a lot of info about the bus trip, as I want to give Stratus the linoleum's share of the article. Suffice to say, there were the usual hilarious double entendres, brilliant japes and hysterical laughter from Pinkus and yours truly. I love hangin' with this dude. It's kind of like having Hunter S. Thompson as a friend; the high jinks are never far away...The Pinkmeister brings out the best...and worst in me. I put him onto one of my fave books: The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers. In return, he got me into the dark sounds of Australia's Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and their CD Murder Ballads, which is definitely not for the faint of heart. My stomach was a bit churny after the "food" at Harveys, and I commenced singing a brilliant composition of my own entitled The Colon Song. (Lyrics available on request) Pinkus has an English degree, and he quickly learned the words and joined in lustily, although the melody eluded him for most of the day.

Our driver Keith did a four-wheel power slide into the Stratus parking lot, and we roistered into the tasting arena, where we were greeted by the lovely and svelte Suzanne Janke. We stood around swashbuckling for a while, and drank some very nice Stratus Riesling in Riedel that sliced through the remains of the Harvey's glop like a High Explosive Anti-Tank round goes through reactive armour. Ultra refreshing and very bracing, it prepped us for the amazing wines and food to follow. We hung on until a couple of Niagara wine writers arrived, including my new homey, Evan "The Greek Avenger" Saviolidis, who's right into the whole UFC thing and closely followed my own Octagon career, including my defeat of Robert "Nosey" Parker a couple of years back. After a while, we hooked up with Stratus' winemaker, the Glenn Gould of the Grape, the Wanderlei Silva of the Winery, the immortal J.L. Groux. Now I have a helluva lot of respect for Ontario's winemakers. We've got some real talent here, including Frederic Picard, David Sheppard, Jean-Pierre Colas, Ronald John Giesbrecht, Norman Hardie, Carlo Negri, the team of Craig McDonald and Rob Power, etc., etc. And when you're talking about talent, J.L. Groux is truly a frickin' heavy-hitter. Like Stratus itself, J.L. drips with quiet class. He took us out to the vineyard to check out the vines while Suzanne and staff poured some delicious rose. The Cab Franc was already budding and the grapevines looked as though they'd been trimmed by Vidal Sassoon. After a fascinating discourse with the man I call "The Albert Einstein of Wine", we headed up to the patio, where Pinkus, Evan and I sipped pink wine in the sunshine and alternately faked kicks at each other's crotches and laughed like baboons.

Now you got's to undestand: Stratus is as far from being typical as your Deacon is from the average cage-fighting wine writer. Stratus sits on 62 prime acres at the perfect temperature moderating distance from Lake Ontario. The soil contains three types of clay and drains really well. Also, they get less rain than some of the areas of Niagara, and dryer soil leads to hardier grapes with deep rooted vines. I've spoken before about Stratus' pump free winery, it's amazing eco-consciousnessand the gorgeous design of the building itself, so I won't go over it all again. Check out the winery here for all that lurch info.

We headed into a private room and sampled the flagship wines, Stratus Red and Stratus White - three of each. These showcase J.L.'s genius insofar as they're different every year. He gathers whatever has done well and assembles them into a highly complex and age worthy wine, thus the name "assemblage". This creates a kitchen sink wine, but it's the kitchen sink of the Ritz in Paris! J.L. is careful to create wines that are drinkable with food immediately, but are extremely age worthy, like a fine Bordeaux. We also sampled their first ever Gewurtztraminer of the 2006 vintage. The floral nose on this will knock your sox off! As we sipped it, I wondered if there's anything J.L. can't do well...We moved on to the 2005 Cab Franc, my particular fave. I think Cab Franc is Ontario's red grape and to be honest, nobody does it better than Stratus. If you think you can find a better Cab Franc anywhere then buy it! And then bite my wand, 'cause you're a DIK for thinking that! My brother-in-law Craig, who lives in France, raved about Stratus Cab Franc, and he's practically an alcoholic!

We then had an unbelievable lunch, catered by Treadwell. We had perch, duck confit, pork belly, spinach greens picked that morning, amazing artisan cheese, etc. It was beyond good, and was so perfect, it had almost become annoying. How could I ever enjoy food again, after something this amazing, combined with J.L.'s outstanding super-premium wines? We ended with 2007 Stratus Icewine Red. It's a rollicking combination of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cab Franc and Syrah. It smelled exactly like ripe red berries and had a finish that went on 'till next Tuesday. The thing that made it all so great, was J.L. sat and had lunch with us and is a really easy-going, friendly kind of guy. I remember another Ontario winemaker of note, who when I brought up J.L. Groux's name, went quiet and then said "J.L. Groux...yeah...he knows what he's doing alright..." If I told you who said it, you'd realize the level of the compliment. We were joined over our meal by Suzanne and also Director of Marketing, Charles Baker. Charles is a really friendly and highly entertaining fellow. He has a unique talent of answering virtually any question with a convergence metaphor, both hands in the air; gradually moving together as he speaks...Get him to show you when you visit...And you will visit, because Stratus is like Paris. Everyone needs to go there once...and once you do...you know you'll be back again.

You can buy Stratus wines from the winery, and be warned: You're going to pay a premium price. But since these are super-premium wines, it makes total sense. These are good enough to serve to the King of Mars. I picked up a bottle of Gewurtz, a couple of bottles of Cab Franc and yes, I grabbed the icewine too. Suzanne presented each of us with a goody bag, containing a special Stratus tasting glass and a box of delicious truffles. Thanks babe. You rock big time!

All good things come to an end, and we climbed back on the bus and Keith drove us back to Toronto and the Royal York Hotel. On the way back, Pinkus tried to get me singing the Colon Song again, because he'd forgotten the melody. I wasn't into it though. I was practicing telling fascinating convergence metaphors with my hands moving slowly together to illustrate the point I was making.

Thank you Suzanne, Charles and Ontario's wine genius, J.L. Groux. May he live long and prosper, and continue to raise Ontario's wine bar higher and ever higher.

You heard me.

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Gonzo Wine Journalist

The Deacon and Brutus declare "Viva Balsam!!!"

Yo Foodies, Omelet heads and Toast Addicts!

I be back! And if you're wondering who the serious white boy in the picture is, it's The Man Himself, Don Velouche Brutus. Now this is an overdue posting, but a highly significant one.

But first, the usual brilliant rant:

Greetings to all my frenz and fanz, and a particularly sallow "Bite my entire staff!" to the moronic mob of morons who sit around moroning like morons and don't even realize what morons they are.

So anyway, your humble Deacon and Deaconess were recently wined and dined by Don Velouche Brutus and his consort, Kathryn the Great, in honour of your Deacon's birthday. Brutus being a noted oenophile and amateur food critic, his invitation to Balsam was particularly interesting in light of a fairly recent and devastating "review" of said establishment by noted Professional Restaurant Criticaster, Amy Pataki. The review in question bore such a pale verisimilitude to our experience with the restaurant, that one wonders if the term "review" should be replaced by "ass clown hatchet job". So on the night in question, we took the Black Rolls out of mothballs and picked up the generous couple and in a matter of minutes, arrived at Balsam in the trendy Beach/Beaches area of Canada's finest city. Brutus had brought a couple of BYO bottles of wine with him, including a particularly lurch Stratus Cab Franc, and we were soon ensconced in a cozy table and friendly staff and patrons with nary an ass clown in sight or on site.

Now this is a very cool little place. It seats around 30 people and the food has a distinctly Mediterranean flavour. I had the surf and turf, and if you're an Ass Clown Food Criticaster, you probably expect something like you'd get at the Keg. But this was no 20 oz Porterhouse and Lobster tail surf and turf. Think small quantities and amazing quality; some braised beef ravioli with a couple of flawlessly cooked scallops on top. Newsflash! It's the sort of portion you'll get in Paris and is not meant to be wolfed down. The salad was incredible and the service, more than up to scratch. The desserts are actually a family secret and we sampled some of the most melt-in-the-mouth cookies we've ever tasted. Part of the mandate is to provide smaller plates that the table can experience as a group. Other items include jerk quail with caramelized banana and Mango Gastrique, and pan seared crab cake with spiked sour cream and citrus corn sauce! Genius Chef Nick Drake manages to create his culinary wonders in a tiny kitchen and is readily available for questions and comments. Main man David Salter who earned his stripes at Oliver Bonancini is highly attentive, keeps things moving and makes sure his patrons want for nothing. If you're just down for a snack and a drink, you can hang at the bar, and the patio's open in warm weather. Situated at Queen East and Balsam Avenue (coincidence?), it's dressy casual and also open on Sunday!

Seriously, homeys - we loved our dinner and the ambiance is very cosy. The Deaconess and Kathryn the Great loved their dinners too, and were less strident than usual, which was a huge plus. The only improvement I can recommend for Balsam would be a box of lawn darts at each table that you can throw at any Ass Clowns who try to cross the thresh hold and ventilate their personal inadequacies via scathing and vituperative "reviews".

I think Balsam is the Beach/Beaches best kept secret. Y'all check it out. Tell David the Deacon sent you. He'll treat you well.

I'm givin' Balsam 5 Frickin' Starz!!!

A huge thanks to Don Velouche Brutus and Kathryn the Great for a spectacular birthday dinner!

You heard me.

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Protectin' my homeys from Ass Clowns and Criticasters...

iYellow Wine Club visits the Black Freighter!

Happy Spring, Children of the Vine!

The frickin' snow's finally decided to eff off and the warm sun has returned at last. And with the return of warmth, a woman's heart turns to romance, and a man's mind turns to Boppin' in the Beater!

...and speaking of Boppin' in the Beater, which we are, I gots a really kool interview for y'all with the Deacon's Fave Beater Boppin' Babe of 2008: Italian Foxette, Ange Aiello!

Now I know if you're anything like me, as soon as you think "Italian" your mind turns to other things...but this is a wine blog, so I won't even mention any of the fascinating cultural additions that Italy's given us, like Ferraris, Michelangelo, pizza, vumpio, thrustio, trains that run ontime, and rotting bodies weighted with bricks in plastic bags at the bottom of Lake Ontario with the teeth smashed in and the fingerprints sliced off...

But first the usual rant that so many of you tune in for...

Greetings Boyz and Girlz, and special Yo Wassups to Kirkland Lake's Charlie "Chuck" Waggon, Sir Tony Aspler, Jono Kuhling, John Maxwell, Billy Munnelly, Sadie Darby, and a host of other gracious fanz of the Deacon!

And a hearty "Blow my bagpipe" to all you feather dusting, flag waving, Earth Hour obeying, propagandized, boardwalk strollin', always texting, moronized DIX who give your kids stupid names like Chardonnay and Thaddeus, and sit around moroning in the Bozone, and who've read my blog for years but still sit there with blank expressions and twiddle your thumbs!

Avast peckers! Let the story commence!

It was a sunny day in Pizzaville when the Young Professionals, Ange Aiello and her partner in wine, Paxton Allewell stepped out of their limousine at Queen's Quay and strode up the gangplank of the Black Freighter. Pep frisked them for weapons and wires and went back to his usual spot on the helicopter pad and resumed polishing his blackjack collection and splitting cornflakes with a razorblade. It was warmer than we'd gotten used to, so Paxton and I raised the black silk sails and we slipped smoothly out of our berth next to Captain John's Seafood Restaurant, and headed toward Ward's Island with Adam "The Sadist" Sutherland at the tiller. The brisk breeze was refreshing, and the sun was already over the yard-arm, so I served up a round of Deacon cocktails, which are birdbath sized martini glasses, swirled with Havana Bay Rum and then filled with ice-cold Cave Spring Riesling, and then topped with a few grains of lemon zest.

It was actually a pretty cool discussion. Ange does most of the talking; Paxton adding the odd comment when needed, as your Deacon threw in the usual hilarious lines that largely slipped under the radar.

iYellow Wine Club came into being a couple of years back, when Ange and Paxton, who met in university, decided to fill a niche in the wine industry by providing a wine education / social event service to young professionals, the same way your humble Deacon provides a wine service to society's bottom-feeders, gangstas, pirates and psychotic martial arts freaks. Since then, they've gone on to provide fantastic bus tours to wine country, along with tastings and seminars, in an unpretentious manner - although I think Billy Munnelly owns the word "unpretentious"... Beginning with only 250 members, they've attracted a couple of thousand newbies and show no signs of slowing down. What began as a hobby has become a full-time career move. The thing that makes iYellow Wine Club interesting to many, is that fact that it's free. As a member, you get all the updates about upcoming tours, like their Green Wine Tour. Now I know a lot of my readers will immediately be going "Wha...?" but it isn't some kind of late St. Patrick's Day event. It's a tour of organic winemaking, including stops at Flat Rock, Tawse, and the tiny but beautiful FrogPondFarm. You jump on a bus with about 30 other crackers and Ange and Paxton bring you up to speed on all you're sampling. Now the tours aren't free, but they're very reasonable, and based on how quickly the club's growing, iYellow's doing something right! There are lots of other tours too, including a Celebrity Wine Tour which will be happening in May. You'll get to check out the wines of Mike Weir, Wayne Gretsky and Dan Akroyd, although you don't get to go into their houses and snoop through their closets. They also do Naked Wine Tastings...but you'll have to check with them on that one...

Here's a recent story on Ange and Pax on CBC. Check it out. Also be sure you check out their website and join the club! You'll find out there's more to clubbing then waiting in line outside a bar or crackin' some moron over the head with an ASP tactical baton. There's a whole world of wine out there to explore, and the iYellow Wine Club will be happy to show it to you!

Here's their website. Tell them the Deacon sent you, and they'll give you a free membership. (Yes, I'm a comic genius!)

The wind died down on the leeward side of Ward's Island and we dropped the sails and engaged the twin 500 horsepower Pratt and Whitney turbines and pulling hard to port, headed back north. I asked Ange and Paxton who they'd fight in the Octagon. They seemed puzzled at first, but finally decided they'd like to fight...
each other....Calling Dr. Freud!!!

So thanks to the iYellow Wine Club for the interview. Ange and Paxton will be hosting the 2008 Ontario Wine Awards in Niagara on the Lake, and tickets are still available! Y'all go check them out.

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Always supportin' the homeys...

The Deacon Visits Keswick!!!

Greetings my dear friends. What a great experience this has been! After a number of humourless readers complained that I was constantly "trashing Keswick", I decided to check it out for myself, and had to admit I was wrong...Keswick is NOT a dull, cultureless wasteland. It's actually a thriving cosmopolitan mini-city, with no need to interact with the outside world at all.

Mayor John-David "Rick" Jeeter, seen in the photo with the Keswick District Health Officer and the World Junior Snowmobile Jump Champion, took me for a spin around the mini-city on the official Mayoral vehicle: an all-weather, curb climbing, luxury snowmobile, for a whirlwind tour of educational fun and thrills!

Here's what I learned:

Far from being cultureless, Keswick has its share of celebrities. Noted actor and comedian, Jim Carrey temporarily lived in a trailer in Jackson's Point, only a short drive from Keswick. Glen Toulin, the brilliant jew's harp and musical saw player once lived in Keswick for an entire summer, and 2 time Southern Ontario Crokinole Champion, the late Dave Ellings lived near Keswick all his life. The mini-city is very picturesque, with a marsh, a snowmobile parts dealer and a Seven Eleven that stocks everything you need, from white bread to dew-worms and snowmobile parts. Every winter, from October to May, the second largest snowmobile picnic in the world takes place out on Cooke's Bay. Only Kirkland Lake has a larger one! Here, local mechanics and parts dealers drink beer and tell hilarious stories about people crashing through the ice and washing up on the beach in June. There is a prize for the best decorated snowmobile, and the locals drink the favourite Keswick cocktail: hot chocolate and beer! If you've never had a hot cup of this gut warming potion, try it with a fresh chunk of bass on a slice of white bread. Then head up to the Stephen Leacock Theatre, which is being bulldozed to make room for the Dave Ellings Crokinole Arena. It's easy to find - just follow the line of make-shift snowmobile crash crucifixes and head north! And make sure you stick around for the Canadian Ice Fishing Championships!

Keswick also has a library, although it's technically in Jackson's Point. It's open every Wednesday, rain or shine, and here you can borrow perennial favourites, like The Dummy's Guide to Ski-doos or The Idiot's Guide to Snowmobile Crashes. Keswick's thriving nightlife is something you have to see to believe! His Worship took me for a ride down the Main Street sidewalk where we played "Scare the Senior" and then it was off to the late night butcher's shop to watch the new meat slicer in action. She's a lovely girl. Saturday mornings are spent recovering from Friday night's snowmobile crash, or simply polishing the Polaris with an appropriate wax from Canadian Tire. The big entertainment on Sunday is watching the traffic lights change. (It happens at noon, if you don't want to miss it.) The Keswick Congregational Church holds outdoor services all year, so you don't even have to climb off your all terrain vehicle or Snowjet!

Here are some fascinating Keswick facts:

Did you know...

• Mary Dales at 82 is the oldest person in Keswick?
• One of the houses in town is thought (by some) to be haunted?
• More hot chocolate and beer is consumed per capita in Keswick than any comparable city?
• There are an estimated 60 tons of snowmobiles on the bottom of Cooke's Bay?
• Keswick has the highest person to book ratio on the planet?
  
• The official game of Keswick is not ice hockey, but crokinole?
• The Keswick Snow Collision Hospital has a first rate Testicle Trauma Ward?
• Although Keswick is known primarily for "snowmobiles on the sidewalk", 87% of Keswickians own Jet Skis too?
  

As we roared East on Morton Avenue, leaving the frozen wasteland of Cooke's Bay behind, I could hear the gunning of engines and the occasional impact and stifled scream as the good folk of Keswick celebrated the beginning of the weekend, well into the early evening.

"It's a great town, Your Worship" I said to Mayor John-David "Rick" Jeeter, as I cradled the commemorative Dave Ellings Crokinole Set I'd been presented with at the Seven Eleven / Mayor's Office.

"No Deacon. It's a thriving cosmopolitan mini-city" he responded. I dismounted the luxurious, air conditioned, Arctic Cat Icebuster and stared across the bay where the bright headlight glare of the bulldozers indicated the razing of the Stephen Leacock Theatre had begun.

A thriving cosmopolitan mini-city?

Damn right it is.

So visit Keswick. Come for the morning and stay all afternoon. Come for the crokinole and stay for the five pin bowling. Keswick's open all year round, and it never sleeps...
And make sure you grab a mug of hot chocolate and beer, and a slice of bass on white sandwich bread. Tell them the Deacon sent you.

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Supporting thriving cosmopolitan mini-cities everywhere

Creekside Rox the Deacon!

Good morning Boyz and Girlz!

Your Deacon here, with a much delayed article about one of my all time faves: Creekside Estate Winery!

The dudes in the picture are the Dynamic Duo of Ontario wine, namely Rob Power (standing) and Craig McDonald (drinking). But before we continue...

Hello to my millions of fanz from Greece to Colorado, you are loved! And of course, a special greeting to all you...wait for it...this is going to be a good rant...

All you Blackberry thumbing, Axe spraying, Bill Gates worshipping, Africa vaccinating, coffin saluting, Adirondack hiking, red meat, colon encrusted, DIX out there:

Exfoliate my Victory Garden!!!

Wow! That was excellent. And highly cathartic too...

So let's talk about Creekside...By now, my lurchest fanz have realized that I cannot be frickin' bought. Your humble Deacon only supports wines and wineries that he believes in. I go out of my way to not diss people; although I'm not above neck-cranking them if they realllllllllly bug me. My strongest criticism is...silence. If I don't like something, I just ignore it - like a certain winery that would love to have the Deacon support the rooster juice they call wine; they want my imprimateur, but it ain't gonna happen... So in the past, I've written up the fine wines of Coyote's Run, Henry of Pelham, Cave Spring, Colio, Norman Hardie, Huff, Stratus, Penninsula Ridge, etc., because they all do a great job and make highly lurch products.

And Creekside fits securely in the lurch product aisle
.
What y'all got with Rob and Craig, is a highly effective team that brings diverse ("different" for those of you in Keswick) skills to the table. Former sommelier and Ontario boy, Rob, graduated from the first class at Brock University's Cool Climate Oenology and Viticulture Institute. Our local gunslinger is joined by the Wizard of Oz, Craig, who has worked at 9 different wineries around the globe. Now your Deacon has a lot of boisterous Australian friends, but Craig's the laid-back type, and isn't necessarily going to call you gay, just because you own a vacuum cleaner or occasionally help out with the dishes.

But the wines...

It was my mentor, Billy Munnelly who introduced me to Rob and Craig as well as marketing wizard, Matt Loney, a couple of years back, and believe me, Creekside makes some fabulous stuff! Some of you will remember that I've been on a rant for sometime about how Shiraz will never do well in Ontario unless someone moves the earth closer to the sun, because Shiraz needs a lot of sunlight to develop fully.

Well...I was wrong! But as usual, I admit to being wrong, which is always the right thing to do. So if you really think about it, that kind of makes me right after all, so get off my case and bite my wand!

Creekside has made some Shiraz that's mindblowing! I don't know how they do it, and I aint axin', but one sip will convince you. Remember, this is a premium product. The 2005 Broken Press Shiraz is just incredible! The boyz use the time-honoured method of adding a splash of Viognier, which despite being a white grape, actually makes the wine darker and inkier. All the grapes come from their own vineyards at St. David's Bench. This'll run you just over 30 bucks, but it's worth every penny, and is the perfect bottle to impress that hot ho, so you can take her home for some boppin' in the beater! Zoltan gave it 4 1/2 stars out of 5, and that Hungarian knows his frickin' wine. Watch too for the 2006 Shiraz. Your Deacon hasn't tried it yet, but I've got every reason to believe it will be another killer.

Another really lurch wine is Laura's Blend White. This is a mix of 6 white grapes, including Riesling, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Grigio, Viognier and Muscat. The result is wonderfully startling! There are layers upon layers of complexity and flavours both local and tropical. They've just kissed it with oak too, instead of knockin' it dead with a sheet of frickin' plywood. This will run you about 18 bucks and deserves to be checked out. Typically, only Stratus' J.L. Groulx shows this kind of creativity, but Rob and Craig have stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the frickin' park!

I could go on and on about this exceptional boutique winery, but you need to check it out yourself. You can visit their website and online store by clicking here. Y'all tell them the Deacon sent you, and say yo wassup, to my homey Matt Loney. He'll take good care of y'all.

Congratulations Creekside, and thanks for keepin' it real.

Your Deacon has your back...

Deacon Dr. Fresh
Occasionally vacuuming, but not gay