Monday, May 21, 2012

Good Stuff


There aren’t many perks available to the freelance writer. Sure, you get to hone your supplicatory skills when editors take seven months to cut your check. And, similarly, way too many publications operate under the sad and foolish notion that their offer to print your words on paper is all the payment you could possibly require. And, of course, you get to field emails from every colander-headed fuckwit with access to a Gmail account. But really good stuff, shiny stuff, is as rare as genetics majors at Liberty University.

That being said (and the whining is over for now…probably) I am, every so often, on the receiving end of manna from Booze Heaven. Since I write mostly about alcohol, you see, producers of that delicious nectar occasionally send me sample of their product in order to collect my opinion of same.

So, in case you are on the lookout for something yummy to pour into your tummies, here are some thoughts.

Whistle Pig Straight Rye Whiskey

Rye is one of my very favorite tipples. Sipped straight, over ice, with a splash of water, or as the base component for such classic cocktails as the Manhattan and the old fashioned, rye is a vital part of any well-stocked liquor cabinet. It has fallen out of vogue in the last thirty-or-so years, sadly, and is due a comeback. Thankfully, the good people at the Whistle Pig Distillery in Shoreham, VT, are on the scene to aid in that revival.

My oh my, but this is good stuff. Distilled from clean New England water, and the process overseen by master distiller Dave Pickerell (formerly of Maker’s Mark), Whistle Pig fits the bill for every one of my above-stated uses for rye whiskey. On its label you will see “100/100,” which means the goodness inside is 100% rye and 100 proof.

Enjoy it neat, or mix up a fine batch of old fashioneds. Either way, you’ll be satisfied.

Tequila Distinguido

Sometime around 1840, a fella called Don José Trinidad Contreras founded the Mexican town of Valle de Mazamitla (today known as Valle de Juárez), and immediately began distilling tequila. Because his tequila was of the highest quality, the distillery grew like wildfire water, and is still with us today, owned and managed by descendants of the Contreras family.

Available in Silver, Reposado and Añjeo (generally speaking, Good, Better and Best), Distinguido is one of the few tequilas I have ever tried that is truly sippable. Which is not to say it won’t improve a pitcher of margaritas, or add a few more rays to a tequila sunrise—it will do both, with gusto. But before you start sullying it with OJ or splashing it into a blender, first dribble a couple of fingers (of the Añjeo, naturally) into a rocks glass, find a comfy seat, and then sit back and just take it in. Swirl it, smell it, sip it. That feeling on your tongue? It’s 150 years of Mexican ingenuity and art.

Give it some props.

Innis & Gunn Irish Whiskey Cask

This delectable Scottish Stout has a flavor unlike any I have ever tasted. Aged in oak barrels that have previously been used to age a fine, triple-distilled Irish whiskey (or whisky, and shut up about it…), it lands on your palate in a decidedly non-barley-pop sort of way. It hits, in fact, if only for a moment, like a fine, triple-distilled Irish whiskey—your taste buds curl up and giggle in the same way, and your uvula dances the Lochaber Broadsword.

And if all that wasn’t enough, this limited edition beer, with its 7.9% ABV, packs a splendid alcoholic wallop. So, don’t pound it (unless, for reasons unknown, you’re after some kind of fucked-up fraternity flashback). No, just pour it off into a chilled mug, and enjoy.

Perfectly lip-smacking, and that’s a fact.

Newcastle Summer Ale

Newcastle has been one of my brews of choice for over 20 years. Until recently, they have avoided entering into the mostly tedious seasonal market, but I’m glad they did. While it’s not as exceptional as their traditional red ale, this summer version is quite tasty.

A tad lighter than the red, and slightly hoppier, the Summer Ale is perfect for backyard shindigs, or as a restorative after an afternoon’s car washing or lawn mowing. It easily surpasses most American microbrews, and treats conglomerate beers in much the same way Joe Pesci treated people in Goodfellas.

Pink Pigeon Rum  

And, at last, we come to Pink Pigeon Rum. Flying in the face of the Cuba Libre crowd, my favorite way to take rum is unblemished but for an ice cube or two. For years I’ve been a Sailor Jerry fan, but no longer, fellow drunkards, no longer.

Assembled from organic sugarcane on the hypnotic tropical island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean, and flavored with a secret assemblage of spices—among them nutmeg, and vanilla from Moroccan orchids—Pink Pigeon stands above all other spiced rums, in much the same way Andre the Giant might stand over Verne Troyer.

It alights on your tongue and puts down its spicy roots, as at least five separate flavors go on a walkabout to the back of your throat, where, when you swallow, a burn sweeter than a Beiderbecke solo slaloms downward, into your stomach, and suffuses your belly with a warmth of such potent contentment it would cause Bacchus to grin in the moonlight.

But please—oh, please—don’t ruin this astonishing libation with some foul soft drink or fetid daiquiri fruit. Just decant a few ounces into a glass (I suggest crystal, as it is worthy) and introduce your senses to alcoholic ecstasy.

Last Call

And, so, there you have it, friends. A few ideas that will set fire to your next get-together, your next special event, your next Monday afternoon.

Drink well.

Cheers.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Biodynamic Bullshit


Prefatory Matters
 
Crystals; auras; chakras; tarot cards; Feng Shiu; smart water; channeling; What the Bleep Do We Know?; Ramtha; spirit mediums; palmistry; the misapplication of quantum mechanics; homeopathy; supernaturalism; cryptozoology.

What do these things have in common?

Each is a shining example of New-Age twaddle.

And here’s another, one you might not be acquainted with: biodynamics.

Loosely defined (cuz that’s the only way it can be), biodynamics is a set of agricultural techniques which are hostile toward “Western” farming practices (crop rotation, synthetic fertilization, chemical pest control, etc.), and which are, according to their supporters, even more organic than ordinary organic farming methods. Biodynamics is often referred to as a “science,” which, as we will see, it is—in much the same way Jeffrey Dahmer was a chef. 

The plant most often subjected to biodynamic (BD) treatments is one near and dear to my heart—the grape vine. 

Yes, New-Age loonies have infiltrated the wine industry. And we’re not talking about a handful of oddballs blathering away on the fringes, either. We’re talking about some of the biggest names in the wine business, on both sides of the Atlantic: Zind-Humbrecht, Domaine Leroy, Chapoutier, Benziger, and Fetzer. Wine writer Monty Walden, in his book Biodynamic Wines, estimates that almost 15 percent of France’s organic vineyards are fully biodynamic. And as a cherry on top of the movement’s soy milk parfait, BD wines have been extolled by both Robert Parker and Jancis Robinson, the two most important and powerful wine critics in the world. Parker himself is busily converting portions of his personal Oregon vineyard, Beaux-Frères, to BD land. The number of tastings in Europe and the U.S. devoted solely to BD wines is increasing geometrically.  A Google search for “biodynamic wine” yields better than 62,000 results, and of the fifty-some-odd sites I perused, forty-eight of them offered nothing but enthusiastic praise for BD wines.

What’s All the Hubbub, Bub?

For starters, if we listen to BD advocates, wines produced from biodynamically-grown grapes surpass, in flavor, and thus value, wines made from grapes grown according to traditional, proven organic methods (and they kick the screaming crap out of wines born of grapes produced by mass-production agri-giants). Advocates also claim that BD wines stay drinkable longer. Hey, sounds super-cool to me. Wine tastes pretty fabulous already, so who wouldn’t get at least a tad twitterpated over a better-tasting, longer-lasting beverage?

Next is the question of man-made additives. BD grapes—like their organically-grown cousins—are 100 percent free of pesticides, chemical fertilizers, and other potentially harmful gunk. No problem here, either. What rational person wouldn’t favor a decrease in (or, in truth, an elimination of) the chemicals currently sullying our beverages? Granted, there is little strong evidence to suggest that minimal, common-sense levels of pesticides or chemical fertilizers, are harmful in any way, but why play with dice with the cancer gods if we don’t have to? 

Organic growers (they call their discipline “agri-ecology”) have long touted the fact that their fields, once freed of artificial chemicals, display measurable increases in soil fertility and soil biodiversity, decreases in weed and pest populations, and easier disease management. Supporters of biodynamics point to these same exact successes as proof of BD’s efficacy. Um…okay. Is it safe to assert, then, that organic techniques do the job just as well, if not better, than biodynamic techniques, and without all the quasi-mystical silliness lurking at the root of BD? (Probably so, but we’ll return to this topic shortly.)

So far, BD wine sounds just peachy, even if the differences between it and its organic cousins are all but nonexistent. But that’s okay. The BD-ers are only getting warmed up. (If you begin to hear a shrill beeping noise, it’s your Bullshit Detector going off.)

Proponents will tell you that BD wine is the most “natural” of all wines, more so even than basic organic wine, because of the steps taken to ensure that BD grapes are raised in sync with the Earth’s “rhythms.” Supporters further claim, without irony or a shred of evidence, that the Earth “inhales and exhales,” and that all growing things are directly influenced by their positions relevant to the sun, the moon, and other celestial bodies, so BD growers carefully monitor the lunar cycle, and take pains to plant and harvest only when the zodiacal constellations are correctly aligned in the heavens. And finally, enthusiasts maintain that biodynamically produced wine is so “tuned in” to “nature’s ways” that sharing a bottle within a group of people will bring them closer together.

There are so many farcical notions contained in the above paragraph that I don’t know quite where to begin. While I think about it, take a look at the following, and understand this: BD-ers aren’t the first wine-people to go a bit squiffy. Viniculture has a long history of entertaining crackpot notions.   

The Oddness of the Vintners

In the late 1600s, scientists figured out the dangers of drinking or storing wine (or any liquid intended for human consumption) in lead or lead-lined containers, but it took another 150 years for French wine fanatics to desist sweetening their wine with lead chips or lead musket balls. I mean, gosh, what’s going blind or becoming paralyzed, in the face of an inadequately flavored tipple?

A Portuguese wine company was forced to recall over 25,000 cases of its latest offering only days after its release on the American market. Why? They released it in mid-September, 2001, and the figure on its label bore a striking resemblance to Osama bin Laden. Other historical luminaries whose faces have failed to trigger buying stampedes include: Che Guevara, Lenin, Josef Stalin, and Benito Mussolini. In 1997 Italian winemaker Allesandro Lunardelli experienced lackluster sales when he presented a wine bearing a picture of Adolph Hitler above the slogan “One People, One Empire, One Leader.” And a New Zealand firm got into hot water when they attempted to attract a bigger share of the gay market with a wine called Pansy. 

It is considered an unassailable fact among wine connoisseurs that a vintage produced during any year that a comet passes by Earth is one of significant importance and taste. The stars on bottles of cognac are an homage to Flaugergues’ Comet, which sped by our planet in 1811. It is a complete coincidence that many “comet” years have been unusually hot and dry ones—hot and dry being two things grape vines really like, weather-wise.

A town in Italy, fearing that some tragedy would befall their vineyards, passed a law forbidding “space ships” from landing there. It seems to have done the trick as, to date, the region, and its wines, have remained free of any UFO-carried taint. A technique used across Europe for centuries to rid vineyards of parasitic caterpillars was to have a woman walk barefooted among the vines…during her menstrual period.

Strange behavior by some strange people, but read on. The actions of biodynamics militants score still higher on the Daffy Scale. 

Biodynamics in a Nut(ball)shell

Rudolf Steiner was a relatively obscure Austrian occultist when he coined the term “biodynamics” in 1924. Biodynamics was the centerpiece of Steiner’s larger intellectual project, the creation of a “spiritual science.” A philosophical vitalist, Steiner believed that all life was created by infusing empty or inert matter with “ethereal” and/or “astral” energy, and that life is constantly influenced by “cosmic forces,” though he never offered precise definitions for any of his terminology. Good ol’ Rudolf also believed that human beings, in the incarnation we recognize today, are the faulty (read: negatively materialistic) descendants of more highly evolved and super-spiritual race of humans who lived in Atlantis and Lemuria—the mythological, twin holy lands of New Age dogma. We became materialistic, Steiner said, from…wait for it…eating potatoes. (I am not kidding. It’s right there on p. 149 of his collected writings, Agriculture Course: The Birth of the Biodynamic Method.)

As mentioned above, a BD vintner must heed certain celestial cycles, and also ensure that his vines are exposed to the correct alignment of zodiacal constellations, but the main elements of BD farming have to do with treating the fields themselves in accordance with numerous “preparations,” as enumerated by Mr. Steiner. Preparation 500, for example, recommends burying a cow’s horn filled with manure in the vineyard. He doesn’t say what purpose it serves, exactly, only that it is a good idea. Along those same lines, Preparation 505 asks the farmer to bury oak bark inside an animal’s skull, while Preparation 506 calls for the interment of dandelions inside a “bovine mesentery” (a segment of a cow’s intestine). Preparation 502 advises burying a stag’s bladder stuffed with yarrow flowers. Why a stag’s bladder? Well, here is Steiner’s explanation:

"The bladder of the stag…is connected with the forces of the Cosmos. Nay, it is almost the image of the Cosmos. We thereby give the yarrow the power quite essentially to enhance the forces it already possesses."
 
I haven’t the faintest fucking idea what that means.

If your vines are beset by insect pests (which are spontaneously created, Steiner says, by “cosmic influences”), they can be eradicated “by means of concentration.” That’s right, folks, just think those nasty bugs away. Mildew is a traditional problem for grape farmers, but is easily overcome, says Steiner, through a “homeopathic dose of horse tail.” And if the vineyard becomes infested by naughty field mice intent upon devouring its young grapes, just capture one of the little buggers, skin it, burn the skin, and scatter the ashes about the field “at a time when Venus is in the sign of Scorpio.”

Contemporary BD-ers, apparently of the opinion that Steiner’s “preparations” are lacking in some way, have made several additions to the man’s basic tenets. “Specialists” (in what we are left to wonder), now routinely use standing-stones and pendulums to perform “geo-acupuncture” so as to “restore the cosmo-telluric balance” of their vineyards (“telluric” being fancy-speak for “of the earth”).

If Dionysus were with us today, I figure he’d make what went down on Mount Cithaeron look like an episode of “The Wiggles.”

Science, Actual and Otherwise

The gushing testimony of BD fans notwithstanding, is there any truth to Steiner’s and his later follower’s claims, or was he (and, by extension, they) a delusional goofball with a brainful of fuzz? 

Several actual scientists have conducted several actual studies (complete with double-blind testing, peer review, the whole scientific-method shebang) into the veracity and/or effectiveness of BD as regards soil biodiversity and grape growing. But first, let’s take a look at a more questionable laboratory endeavor.

Proponents of BD get all giddy over the results of a lengthy study performed by a group of Swiss researchers, which found that BD techniques yielded richer soil fertility and soil biodiversity than traditional, or even rigidly organic, growing methods. What the BD-ers don’t like to talk about is what’s buried (arguably on purpose) in the report’s footnotes, where it is found that the researchers chemically treated the organic plots (the specifics are not revealed) but not the BD plots. Furthermore, the notes state that the chemical treatments were only the “main differences” between the BD and non-BD plots, and the specifics of the other, lesser, “differences” are never divulged. Eric Stokstad, a microbiologist at the University of California at Davis, suggests that the study was badly designed and wonders if the data were altered in order to demonstrate the researchers’ desired results. (Such shenanigans are known as “cooking” the data.)

At the University of Washington, Lynne Carpenter-Boggs and John Reganold recently published the results of their six-year investigation into biodynamic farming. On BD-treated soil they write that:

“[N]o consistent significant differences were found between the biodynamically treated and untreated plots for any of the physical, chemical, or biological parameters tested.”

And as for the crops themselves, they looked at BD and non-BD grapes and found that:

“Analysis of the leaves showed no differences between treatments [and] there were no differences in yield, cluster count, cluster weight, and berry weight.”

And so we see that, after a careful, scientific, examination, BD can be summed up thus: There is no difference between biodynamic wine and the regular organic stuff.

No difference.

So What’s the Big Deal?

At this point, thoughtful readers might be saying to themselves: OK, fine. BD is, as Douglas Adams might’ve said, a load of fetid dingo’s kidneys. But in the end, why should we give a fig if a bunch of New Age lackwits want to muck about with braised mice and stuffed bladders?

I think we should care for several reasons. 

First of all, biodynamic field preparations are ridiculously expensive. The head of production at the Benziger winery estimates that the BD process costs 10 to 15 times more than conventional practices. The BD process also wastes time and human resources (most local supermarkets don’t regularly stock bovine mesenteries) which translates, when coupled with the increased production costs, to a higher price per bottle for consumers. Which is sad, seeing as wine already has a higher sales mark-up than any other agricultural product on the market. BD enthusiasts (not to mention the merely curious) are being ripped-off, shelling out extra cash for a needlessly expensive product that in no way delivers on its promises, because its promises are fictions.

Secondly, there is the simple matter of perpetuating foolishness. Just when you think we’ve come a long way as a species, we’re hit with the fact that some of us are still living in caves hiding from the lightning. I find it mystifying that people continue, not only to revel in superstition and irrationality, but to present their views as superior. Don’t get me wrong. In life, it pays to have an open mind. Just not so open it’s a slop sink.

And finally, do wine snobs really need any additional pretensions? Sweet shit, they’re insufferable enough as it is. As the Roman poet Martial said: “You will make the wine good by drinking it.”

Biodynamic agriculture is quackery. Snake-oil. Complete bullshit. A marketing tool aimed at the badly informed, the gullible and the narcissistic. Don’t let yourself get taken in. Carpe vinum.

Cheers.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Dispatch from Santorum Country


Today’s opening sally: morally and politically, Oklahoma, the state where I currently dangle my fedora, it a fucking train wreck. And nowhere is this lamentable fact more apparent than when viewed through the lens of Rick Santorum’s presidential campaign.

Back on March 6th, Santorum won the Oklahoma State Republican primary, crushing both Gingrich and Romney under the boots of the state’s large and vocal born-again Christian population. Post-primary polls conducted by ABC News indicated that 8 out of 10 voters who rolled Santorum’s way did so because they wanted a “true conservative” who shared their “religious values” and who had a “strong moral character.”

By casting their lots for Santorum, Oklahoma wing-nuts were obviously telling the other candidates that they were not “true” conservatives. But come on. Romney and Gingrich were doomed long before they ever landed in Okie World. Born-again types think Mormonism is a cult, and so they distrust the magic underwear crowd, and Gingrich is a fatuous, opportunistic twat, who’s not just a political insider, he’s up inside Washington all the way to his shriveled nutsack.

No, watching the interviews the night Little Ricky won, the name most often invoked in comparison was Ronald Reagan’s. What’s interesting is how unlikely a Reagan victory would be if he were active in politics today. Just to pick one example at random, Saint Ronald raised taxes nine times over the course of his presidency (effectively eviscerating the American middle class in the process) and that detail alone would be enough to ruin him in the eyes of today’s Tea-Party troglodytes and other gasbag neo-cons. Ronald Reagan, too liberal? It might just be the case. Weird, huh?

But let’s face it, Oklahoma was already a prime location for a Santorum candidacy to fester. It is, after all, the state than spawned Ralph Shortey and James Inhofe.

Shortey, a freshman state senator from Oklahoma City, is the braindead fucktard who introduced a bill banning human fetuses in food. The bill, SB 1418, reads in part: “No person or entity shall manufacture or knowingly sell food or any other product intended for human consumption which contains aborted human fetuses in the ingredients or which used aborted human fetuses in the research or development of any of the ingredients.” When the hate-mail and holy-shit-you’re-a-dumbass-mail started cannonading off his head, Shortey sharpened his message by telling us that PepsiCo, in league with the biotech firm Senomyx, was using aborted fetuses to create and test artificial food flavorings. Both companies stoutly denied Shortey’s allegations, but he remains steadfast in defense of his “facts”…because he read them on the internet.

It’s this sort of intellectual meticulousness that throws wide its arms for a great big Santorum bear hug.

And then there’s Senator James Inhofe. His new book, The Greatest Hoax, is the senator’s latest assault on the “global warming conspiracy.” While not as batshit crazy as Shortey, Inhofe still has a lot to answer for. First of all, there’s his recent statement that there are more scientists who do not accept climate change than scientists who do. This immediately called to mind Inhofe’s list from a few years back, a list of 100 scientists who deny climate change. A cursory glance at the list showed that many of his “scientists” were, in fact, TV weathermen. TV weathermen. On the scale of rigorous scientific education, the weatherman ranks somewhere between cosmetologist and dog groomer.

But where Inhofe really goes striding forth into Numbnuts Land is when he (by “he” I mean, of course, his ghostwriters, cuz if Inhofe wrote a single syllable of this blather I’ll eat a baby harp seal) trots out what is really lurking behind the global warming “conspiracy.” First, is the baffling claim that those who support the science behind climate change, from politicians, to environmental activists to assenting scientists, are motivated by money. “Just look,” the senator recently opined in a radio interview, “how much Al Gore has made off this stuff.” I don’t even want to get into how bizarre it is for an arch-conservative like Inhofe to whine about someone making a little jingle. But Inhofe is just getting warmed up.

The real culprit, according to Jimmy the Jerk, in the “conspiracy” is…wait for it…the United Nations. It seems that the UN is intent upon taking over America and making all of us live and act according to their heinous, perhaps even—gasp!—socialist, dictates. The UN has either bribed or brainwashed the vast number of scientists (90% and climbing) who support the idea of climate change into selling this pernicious hoax to the American public.

But the main reason we needn’t worry about climate change is this: god won’t allow it to happen. In an interview broadcast on a Christian radio program Inhofe offered this devastating assessment of the situation:

“Well actually the Genesis 8:22 that I use in [the book] is that ‘as long as the earth remains there will be springtime and harvest, cold and heat, winter and summer, day and night.’ My point is, God’s still up there. The arrogance of people to think that we, human beings, would be able to change what He is doing in the climate is to me outrageous.”

And then, I’m told, a flock of winged pigs flew out of the senator’s butt.

To call Inhofe simply another cracker with god-poisoning is perhaps unfair. Because, see, what Japing Jim routinely fails to mention in his public appearances is the fact that he has received over $1 million in campaign contributions from the oil and gas industry, including over $90,000 alone from those charming and rational Koch Brothers (owners of the Keystone Pipeline).

There is no proof in any way shape or form that the assenting scientists are the cash-besotted fear-mongers Inhofe paints them, but there is plenty enough to demonstrate that James Inhofe is a money-gluttonous whore of the first magnitude.

James Inhofe is just the sort of fluffy-headed doofus Rick Santorum needs on his team.

And, lastly, we come to the children. Pundits from both sides of the aisle bemoan the lack of political engagement on the part of today’s youth. Well, two sisters from Oklahoma have arrived on the scene to assuage such concerns, at least among conservatives.

Known professionally as First Love, Camille Harris (20) and her sister Haley (18), penned and recorded a campaign song for Rick Santorum called “Game On.” In an interview with today.com, Camille explained how they wrote their catchy little ditty: “We just prayed and asked God to give us the words.”

And what words they are! Wow!

There will be justice for the unborn
Factories back on our shores
Where the Constitution rules our land
Yes, I believe Rick Santorum is our man.

Now, I have to ask… You prayed to god for the words—an all-seeing, all-knowing, eternal god—and that’s the best he could come up with? I’d ask for my money back.

But anyway…

Hit the link below to watch the “Game On” video. The girls are so agonizingly wholesome you can hear their hymens squeak.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7pv7sO5Gng
 
So, yeah, Rick Santorum has all the qualities that Okies told ABC they desired in a candidate. He is a “true conservative” who shares their “religious values” and he has a “strong moral character.” And despite these qualities, or, in fact, due entirely to them, he is also a total asshole.

Conservatives gibber constantly about some alleged war on religion being perpetrated by liberals. There is no war on religion, of course, but I tell you this: elect Rick Santorum and there will be. How do I know?

Because I will do my level best to start one.

Cheers.