Greetings All and Sundry!
Your humble Deacon has returned from the prestigious Ontario Club in the heart of downtown Toronto. As my loyal readers know, the Deacon received a special invite to taste Canadian wines vs. Bordeaux. Here's how the evening went:
I arrived fashionably late, having been dropped off at King and Bay streets by the Deaconess, who screeched the Candy Apple Caddy up on the sidewalk to the shock and awe of parked taxis and wild applause of passersby. I quickly found my way across the courtyard and up to the fifth floor Event and was warmly greeted by the Deacon's numero uno sommelier, (and half of the Hungarian Wine Mob) Zoltan Szabo. He was lookin' damn lurch too, and the flashes started poppin' as the papparazzi's tried to frame both us wine heavyweights in their viewfinders. The even more fashionably late arrived, and we all sauntered into the tasting room, which was bright and cheerful, in a Draconian kind of way. Your Deacon opted for a corner seat near the exit doors; somethin' you should always do in case the evening crashes and burns and y'all gotta abort in a hurry. Well I'm pleased to report there were no abortions or crashes, and the evening was a great success! Tony Aspler was in fine form in his meticulous descriptions of esters, tannins, flavinoids and thuja. Sadie Darby, the lovely lady from the Wine Writers Circle who gave your humble narrator an invite was the organizer of the spectacular event and very pleased to meet the Deacon in person. Sadie was celebrating her 25th birthday and the Deacon led a wild round of singin' which shocked and offended some of the more restrained (read "repressed") mofos and peckercrackers in the room. I was joined in my AC/DC volume rendition of "Happy Birthday" by the man sitting next to me, who turned out to be Doug Beatty, the lurch VP of Marketing for Colio Estate Wines. He was certainly no mofo, and your Deacon took a shine to the man. The Deaconess and I had greatly enjoyed a bottle of Colio 2002 Cab Franc the previous week, and Doug and me got to talkin' about Roger Ramjet and Zorro and Clutch Cargo, and almost forgot we were supposed to be samplin' the wares in front of us.
There were 10 wines presented, all of them red and mostly real good. I operated on the principle that my cut man and mentor, Billy Munnelly taught me: If it tastes like a chisle between your teeth and is well-structured and firm, it's gonna be Canadian, because the crackers'll be tryin' to trick us. If it tastes fruit-forward, round and New World, it's gonna be a frickin' Bordeaux! We started wadin' through the flight, the oohs and aahs punctuated by witty and hilarious comments from Doug and myself. I commented that one of the wines (number 6) was "redolent of a poultice". Doug, not to be outdone launched into a brilliant and clearly rehearsed story involving horrible images of geriatric patients in swimming pools, wearing diapers and thongs. He looked at me quite seriously and stated that it was the worst image he could come up with. I told him he had succeeded and not to try to top it. Then a gorgeous, curvy blonde sauntered past, eyeing the Deacon and Doug said "I didn't think we were allowed to bring hookers to the event." I glanced around at the other tables and noted sincerity and seriousness. I went back to wine number 6, which was one of those things that is so incredibly bad, you just gotta keep checkin'. (I remember sprayin' myself with White Musk cologne on a trip to Buffalo with the Deaconess. It smelled so sickening, I couldn't stop sniffin' it for about 5 hours until it faded.) We began to try to get our olfactory/gustatory systems around what this wine smelled and tasted like. Doug went back to diapers and then suddenly and triumphantly yelled "Iodine!". "Yes!" our table shouted in response. "With hint of dolphin's penis!" I yelled, perhaps a little too loudly, leading to nods of startled agreement and much hilarity. We tasted (guessed) and voted (guessed) and then Tony Aspler did a superb job of deconstructing the experience for us. When we listened to his evaluations and re-tasted, we were all forced to agree: "He's right! Damn his eyes!" All in all, the event was a tremendous success and the Deacon appreciates the invite and the new friends he's made.
Kudos Sadie. You done good, Homegirl.
You heard me.
Deacon Dr. Fresh
Not yet barred from the Ontario Club