The above phrase (translated loosely from the French) was how my inquiry regarding the Côteaux du Lyonnais, a small appellation in between Beaujolais and the Northern Rhône Valley, was met. This articulation came from the mouth of a very opinionated wine broker who lives in a town so small I am unsure it could even have qualified for anus status. At least he gave me sausages…I also drank some old wine and if any of you are mold averse, I would recommend looking away for the moment.
The one on the left was a 1997 Devevey Hautes Côtes de Beaune Blanc “Dix-Huit Lunes” and in very good shape. On the right, a 1988 Guigal Côte-Rotie, also tasting very well.
I am now going to drive up the D974 and look at some vines, then later head for Lyon. I will make a dispatch from there, depending on the WIFI strength. There are never any guarantees that things will work here, and when they don’t, the situation is often met with a shrug and a cigarette.
Speaking of which, I am growing very weary of these. The Gauloises are seriously going to put me in an early grave. The laughter of the French is often accompanied by the deep sounds of clotted mucus unpeeling from their lungs. It’s worse than an anus stuck between two chairs.
Read more "Words To Live By:”An Anus Stuck Between Two Chairs”"
How do you say goodbye to an old stove, one that was made in the 1950s, weighs about 98 kilos and has four, maybe even six different pilot lights that needed attending?
How do you express your excitement when you learned of all its compartments and possibilities, in 2008, only to be deflated like an old mylar parade balloon when you found out only one compartment worked? (hint NOT the rotisserie).
How to you say goodbye to a clock that was forever set to 13:45h, the time your child came home from school which was always your favorite time?
How do you say goodbye to an oven that produced so many cookies, for bake sales and for staff members at your restaurants, when you tried to buy back their love after being a flaming bitch because you were so stressed?
How do you say goodbye to a stove whose only working compartment you had to open with a large IKEA magnet that got very hot and often burned your fingers?
How do you say goodbye to a stove that was impossible to clean? How do you say goodbye to a friend that regularly gave you perfectly roasted vegetables even though you had to turn the tray around about 5 times per roasting session?
How do you say goodbye to a friend that roasted so many chickens, and offered a warm scent of rosemary and thyme to the rest of your home when this was happening?
How do you handle this magnitude of loss even after last Friday, when the gas was turned off briefly and you couldn’t find all of Wanda’s pilot lights and nearly had to evacuate your home due to carbon monoxide levels and threat of hypoxia?
Goodbye Wanda. The new stove will be slick and easily cleaned but I will miss your enormous capacities, complete dysfunction and general uselessness. I will miss you Wanda. Sorry that you will be scrap metal. Because you fed my family for 8 years.
Read more "Goodbye to You: Wanda’s Last day"