Hudson Valley Wine and Food Fest 2013

My body, after years of careful consideration and scientific testing, has confirmed to be NOT carbon based. No, rather it is actually very carefully compressed, shaped, and orchestrated disappointment. I am, borrowing from Brian Posehn somewhat, a disappointment elemental. Not that I SPREAD disappointment, mind you. I know many people that could attest to the latter. But rather, it's self-disappointment. It strategically sacrifices little bits of itself to ruin plans. The odd thing is, the further away from my house these plans take place, the less it exerts. I guess the energy conversion of solid disappointment to gaseous disappointment (otherwise known as "the vapors") is considerable so whatever manifests when I am to go far away from home is generally mild but irritating. I had a kidney infection when I went to IPCPR in NOLA in 2010 but it was mild and, on the kidney infection Richter scale, was about a 2.0. When I went to ADI in Denver, I had a mild sinus infection and I could really smell the hundreds of spirits laid out before me in a literal spirit buffet. However...when the plans constitute going to somewhere within walking distance of my house...all hell breaks loose.

So, three days before the Hudson Valley Wine and Food Festival, a half mile from my house at best, I get a 8.0 Kidney Richter Scale mamma-jamma. It started as it usually does: my back hurts. Figuring I slept on it wrong, I went about my day. Then that deep rooted, aching pain started and I knew what I was in for. Confident that I could kick this before Saturday (it was a Tuesday), I called my doctor, got my meds, had some coffee, watched a few movies, drank a lot of water...then went to bed. When I woke up on Wednesday, what should have been a bright and beautiful morning of birds chirping, soft breezes, and no back pain...it was not. I had a fever of 102.6. I was delirious and hallucinating. Chills and shakes swept through me like the winds over the plains. But I had my meds! I'll be okay.

No.

Needless to say, after many days of low grade fever and aches, I gave up. I couldn't go. I should be drinking and the antibiotics were just slow. So I called in my professionals. My photographer, otherwise known as the Sofrito Senorita, was fine to go. But who to replace my larger than life (both physically and metaphorically) persona? I had to call in the big guns. Enter the freelance.

Some say this is right before she got on a plane and sang "Tiny Dancer" with a band in a storm.

She has many names but prefers to go by the name of "Beauty and the Borscht" due to her deep-seated Russian roots and the fact that she can eat more borscht than any human I've ever seen. Some say she stores where her soul should be, using it to fuel her superhuman voracity for things. Not one thing in particular...all things.

What I was forwarded was a dirty and crumpled sheet of barely incoherent notes. Several of the pages were stained with wine and what potentially could be the blood of her enemies. No photos of the altercation exist so I'm guessing it was either brutal or non-existent. The notes were unusable; unintelligible to any but the finest cryptographers. But I do have the photos. And here's what we got.

All in all, it looks like they had a good time. No photos of food which makes me sad because the Jamaican jerk chicken guy was there and I wanted to eat all of the plantains he had. Fried plantains are a medicinal food, right? Several types of wine which I want to try (that Dragon's Fire wine) and some pretty solid candid shots as well. So I think I'll let them pass for the dismal note-keeping. In case you were wondering whether or not you should attend this event, I wholeheartedly recommend it. You could huck a rock and hit a decent, if not foxy and fine, Riesling (In With Bacchus does not endorse the projectile movement of stones, rocks, gravel, or any other geological formation in the hopes of hitting a wine). So go drink some damn fine wine, eat a lot of stuff (one of the legible notes was about bacon jerky), and have a good time in the sun.

Now if you'll excuse me, my body has dinner plans to ruin.

EDIT:  Beauty and the Borscht has this to say: "The Americana Baco Noir was honestly my favorite. That and the Casa Larga Lilac wine."

The Bottomless Bottle

Sometimes, when I can't sleep at night, I daydream of what my life would be like if I had a fully stocked bar. Sad, isn't it? Usually these daydreams devolve into me foiling a rogue government plot with a trusty revolver and a bottle of whiskey...which kinda makes it even more sad. I go from wanting a stocked bar to turning into an inebriated, slightly bumbling James Bond or pudgy Philip Marlowe / Sam Spade.

And I always, magically, lose 60 pounds. Funny that.

More often than not, when I can't sleep, you can find me on Twitter or chatting with friends in a variety of formats available to me. So the other day, when chatting with a drunk friend who had come back from the bars, I got the idea for this post. His query, and I quote:

Friend: you are stranded on an island
Friend: you have 1 choice for booze
In With Bacchus: fuuuuck
Friend: it is:
In With Bacchus: this is the worst question for a distiller

It really is the worst question. In such a veritable smorgasbord of booze, how can I pick one? How can ANYONE pick just one? Would you go with the expensive? The tried-and-true? The utilitarian? How do you choose just one spirit? My eventual answer depended on not just what I liked, but the environment. Here's how it went down:


In With Bacchus: does the island have coconuts?
Friend: the island bows down to your choice
In With Bacchus: then Jamaican rum
In With Bacchus: overproof
In With Bacchus: Smith and Cross, I guess
In With Bacchus: tiki drinks forever
Friend: cant fault you for [sic] chosing rum

In the end, I settled on one of my favorite rums, the classic blended Jamaican rum: Smith and Cross. I was going to go for J. Wray and Nephew but I'm more of a sucker for aged things and I don't have the cooperage skills to make a barrel out of anything on an island. I can, however, crack coconuts, cut up pineapples, and juice limes. And I suppose I can chalk this up to my knowledge of drinks and engineering mindset of "work with what you've got to improve". I guess it also kinda says that I need a vacation or something. Who knows.

It is a question I pose to you, as well, dear readers. If you were to be stranded on an island, what would be in your proverbial washed up liquor crate? And what does it say about you?

In hind sight, if the island bows down to my choice I guess I could have asked for a bottle of "rescue me". Maybe it would have spawned a yacht plant or something.

RE: Craft Whiskey Isn't Always Better

Maybe by now, if you're as enthused about spirits as I am, you've seen the Slate article come across whatever media you decide to frequent. The Slate article that shares a title with this post. A Slate article that, for pretty much all intents and purposes, knocks around craft distilling something righteous and fearful. An article that says things like:

In America’s evolving whiskey landscape, however, smaller isn’t necessarily better. Some excellent craft whiskies have emerged in recent years, but the distilleries responsible for big names like Wild Turkey, Jim Beam, and Four Roses make whiskeys that a surprisingly high number of microdistilleries struggle to match.

Or:

Even the most basic offerings from many big distilleries—brands like Buffalo Trace, Jim Beam Black, and Wild Turkey 101—are excellent products that I find more complex than many craft products that are much more expensive. Higher-end products from these same big distilleries—Eagle Rare Single Barrel, Knob Creek, and Russell’s Reserve—are very hard to compete with, especially at the prices they charge.

It's ruffled some feathers. Some dander is up, it's true. But not mine. And it's not because I don't feel threatened by it or that I think it's borderline satire.

It's because I agree with it.

This isn't to say that I'm cut my roots and have shackled myself to the big boys. Don't worry, I love craft distillers. But the article itself crops up a LOT of good points that I feel that small distillers should take to heart. And I'm going to go through them, one by one.

Non Distiller Producers

I love Smooth Ambler. I think it's fantastic. I like High West. I could drink their Campfire until my eyes bleed. And I appreciate the fact that they are pretty open with the fact that, yes, that isn't really their product. It's product they've bought and bottled under their label. And I'm fine with that. Good whiskey and truth, what's not to like? If you're looking for more information on this, go check out Chuck Cowdery's post on it. He sums it up nicely.

What I don't like is people that DON'T let consumers know what their buying. That's just dishonest and it gives not just yourself but the industry itself a bad name. Be up front. Be honest. Don't become the proverbial snake oil salesman here. If you believe that you have a good product, let it speak for itself, regardless of where it comes from. If people like it, they won't care that it came from another distillery. They won't care as long as when they put their lips to the glass it is tasty. But to make a brand out of purchased whiskey and pass it off as the blood, sweat, and tears of labor in your budding distillery...that's just heartbreaking. And it makes your life difficult. Now that there's a whiskey shortage, how do you explain to people why your whiskey tastes so radically different? And if people find out that you are bottling something someone else made, what makes you think that they'll give you a chance when you start releasing your own product? Good brands are built upon trust.

Aging Your Product

This is probably my favorite quote from the entire thing:

For whiskey startups operating on shoestring budgets, four years is an eternity to wait before earning revenue. Many have attempted to dodge this obstacle by selling younger whiskies or attempting to quickly extract wood flavors by using smaller barrels, wood chips, ultrasound machines, pressure cookers, and even by playing loud bass music to agitate the whiskey. Upstart distilleries say these techniques do for their whiskeys in a matter of months what otherwise takes years.

Guys...stop. Just...just stop. Every time I hear of some small distiller thinking that they've found the Rosetta stone of fast aging, I die a little bit on the inside. Trust me. You CANNOT. SPEED. UP. AGING. Things take time. Chemical processes need to happen. Evaporation, esterification, ethanolysis...these things don't happen overnight. Or over-week. Or over-month. Think over-year. No matter how much you pressurize and agitate and saturate with wood...your spirit will not age faster. I'm sorry. So please stop claiming that the techniques you're using make your whiskey just as old as commercial stuff. It makes us, again, look bad. To be sure, there is a niche market for these kinds of whiskies. Heavy wood profiles can make for interesting cocktails and pair extremely well with cigars. People DO buy them. But don't exclaim that they are the same as a Jim Beam Black. Please don't. Don't feel the need to compare to commercial products. Be your own product.

Why Craft Whiskey Isn't Always Better

Here's the one I'm assuming everyone will get angry at me for. I've tasted a lot of pretty solid craft whiskey. I've tasted some amazing craft whiskey. I've tasted some bad craft whiskey. And that was from just one producer. I've run the gamut of whiskey available from the craft distilling world and it is as varied as can be. Sometimes, this is a good thing. Like vintages of wine, some batches are better than others and that is certainly a drawing point for some. But for a lot of other people, it's not.

A long time ago, I was drinking with friends one night and I professed that I liked Bud. They all started ragging on me at that point. "How can you like that swill?" "I thought you had better taste than that." Blah blah blah. They ragged on me for a bit until I explained why. I like Bud because...no matter where you go in the country, in the continent, hell, in the world...you order a Bud and you get a Bud. You don't get something that tastes sorta like Bud. You get a Bud. It may not be the best out there but it is consistent. And being consistent is much, much, MUCH harder than anyone gives it credit for. To be able to reach for a bottle of Booker's or Old Granddad or Redbreast and have it taste exactly the same is not only impressive from a distillers point of view...but it's comforting from a consumer's point of view. Sometimes I want to try something new, different, exciting and I'm willing to pay for it. But I don't want to try something new, different, and exciting EVERY time. The craft distilling movement has major troubles with consistency. Whether it's by choice or it's by just figuring out what we're doing...it's a problem. I'm sorry but it just is. And until we can safely put out product that, no matter who grabs it or when they grab it, it tastes the same...it will BE a problem.

To those that have said that this is a horribly written, wrong article, I humbly disagree. It is a well-written article in my eyes that points out problems in the craft community that we should be addressing. If we can successfully address these problems in a positive manner, it will give us all the more credence in the distilling industry. If we can't, I believe that it will significantly hinder us. But that's just me running my mouth as usual.

Convalescence Plans And Charity Gaming

Last Friday, I met with my doctor. And, wouldn't you know it, the ol' Spolverino Luck kicked in. I was (not very) politely informed that the surgeries I'd been having had...for lack of a better phrase...a shelf life. They could only be done so many times before they had to do major open surgery. I was less than enthused. So what went from "well, I can grin and bear this for another two months" turned into "I may be recovering for six months and will have a wonderful variety of medical procedures to do while I'm recovering".

Needless to say, whatever can't go wrong, will, and it will. Catastrophically.

So as I stare down the barrel of an exploratory surgery this Thursday, I've been thinking to myself...what can I do during my convalescence? The doctors frown heavily on drinking during recovery. I might be able to get away with doing some reviews of the spirit samples I have (as they are usually 50-100ml samples). I will be doing cigar/pipe/medwakh reviews as well. But I can't smoke every moment of the day. Well...I CAN...but I can't imagine doing that for every waking moment for two to six months.

So I turn to what I normally do. Video games. For me, video games are an anxiety relief. Escapism means I don't have to think about what I'm going through or what I have to go through. I just focus on what's on the screen. I have a wide variety of games that I could play but that doesn't really involve the IWB readers. So I've devised a plan.

I will play games for (semi) charity.

I say semi charity because, frankly, I am going to have massive bills to pay. I've been unemployed since the last time I've had this surgery. So, as much as I hate to say it, part of the proceeds will have to help me pay my hospital bills, doctors bills, prescription costs, and equipment costs. Can't do much about that. But what I CAN do is donate the rest to charity. The first charity I'll be donating to is the National Kidney Foundation.
They rate very well in terms of charities. See here for a whole work-up on them by the Charity Navigator. I'm sure you know by now that my kidneys are not fantastic, with "not fantastic" being a rather strong understatement. If I could, I would love to help everyone everywhere to have new kidneys. But until the manage to make kidneys out of thin air...I don't think I can do that. BUT WE CAN HELP FUND THAT RESEARCH. So the NKF is a charity I'm throwing my enormous girth behind.

The other charity that I'd like to support is probably not well known by you but is near and dear to my heart. I have, since I was two weeks old, been having all of my surgeries (well, technically, 25/27) at Westchester Medical Hospital in Valhalla, NY.

That's right, I've visited Valhalla and have returned. I'm the craziest Viking ever. So I will also be making donations to them because they have supported me since I was born and pretty much helped me live. Okay, DEFINITELY helped me live.

Now, these are 501c3 charities but, sadly, I am not so you can't exactly write this off. But I will be VERY transparent about this. Everything will be split in half. Half to my needs (until the point at which I stop needing it), half to charity. I will do weekly/bi-weekly analysis costs and make them available to you. IF I make excessive amounts of money (which I'm guessing I won't), then I will donate everything but what I need to charity. Examples for clarity:

Let's say I need $600.
I earn $50. $25 goes to me, $25 goes to charity.
I earn $200. $100 goes to me, $100 to charity.
I earn $3000. $600 goes to me, $2400 to charity.

I'm not hear to EARN money. I just want to keep from digging the debt hole deeper than it already is. It's mainly about donating to charity. I hope you can understand my mentality. If you want further explanation...just email me.

I will be using Twitch.tv (for some reason it just lists me as Justin.tv so I dunno what the deal is with that). The link is here. I will also be Tweeting about video games, incessantly, on my other Twitter channel, bacchus_plays. So if you want to support me...and good causes, here's how to do it. Follow, subscribe, and give me feedback (WHICH YOU GUYS ARE NOT FANTASTIC AT). If you have any recommendations on HOW to stream...I'm all ears. Ideally...free is cool. I might go for the Adobe program or the Open Broadcaster Software. Also, if you've got any questions, comments, concerns, or games that I should probably play...let me know. I've got a huge Steam list but it can always get bigger. I will be playing a variety of first person shooters, real time strategy, some massive multiplayer's (FFXI and maybe WoW, depending)...

Oh, and whatever the hell you classify Minecraft as. Not sure WHAT it is, other than "Creeper Explosion Simulator 2: The Enrage-ening."

EDIT: I have added a new charity as well. It is this one:



By all intents and purposes, I am disabled. I meet most of the government definitions. I never consider myself disabled because I guess I feel like there are so many more out there that deserve the title of "disabled" more than I do. But its true. When I read the website...I cried. I dunno if its the Percocets I'm on for the pain or the leftover anesthesia or WHAT...but it hit so close to home I cried. I'm not ashamed to admit it. It's been a wearying few days so maybe that's it. Video games have always helped me escape. I escape pain, discomfort, situations with no silver linings in sight. I can be who I want to be: a powerful wizard or a savvy spy or a noble soldier....instead of a fat kid with PTSD and terrible kidneys. So I will be supporting this charity as well. The charity will be a three way split. If the value doesn't work out, I'll put up a vote on to who gets the extra. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go back to playing Minecraft.

State of the Blog(ger)

"Men weary as much of not doing the things they want to do as of doing the things they do not want to do." - Eric Hoffer

Edit: The first draft of this read like a LiveJournal circa 2003. This is the second draft. You're welcome. Trust me.

Our family, the Spolverinos, have what we like to call "Spolverino Luck." It's pretty much like Murphy's Law but with a slight addendum. Murphy's Law is "Whatever can go wrong, will." Spolverino Luck is "Whatever can go wrong, will. Whatever can't go wrong, can go wrong, and it will. Catastrophically." At this point in scientific process it has evolved past a postulate, migrated beyond theory, and has almost become law. We're just waiting on data to come back from several trials that had to be independently validated by a non-partial third party. We expect this to become a law within the year.

I mention this to you now on the eve of one of my least favorite holidays, the Festival of Surgeons. Tomorrow I'm scheduled to go down to my doctor and have a gamut of tests done that are not exactly comfortable only to tell me what I already know. I know my body. I know what's wrong and I know it's gonna need to be fixed by opening the hood and rooting around. My body a late 80s Honda that's been held onto too long. To start it you need to hit the dash three times with a hammer, recline the seat, and then touch wires together at the bottom of the steering column...all while humming Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant."

I'm just about used to it by now. So far I've averaged 1.08 surgeries a year for my entire life. I'm just starting to realize that I will probably never get to spend my tax refund check on anything fun or anything new but rather paying off hospital bills, wetting the beaks of doctors, and old man bro-ing out at pharmacies. This is also coupled with the fact that I lost my job around the same time last year because of the exact same surgery I'm going to need again. Two years running. I should get a trophy or something. I've had no real income for the past year (I finally got unemployment in September but I'm barely making loan and expense payments) and being out recovering from surgery means that I am "unable to work" and will subsequently lose my unemployment. I could apply for disability but that only nets me $200 a month which is about a quarter of what I need. Whee. Like I said, Spolverino Luck.

To put it lightly, I'm tired. Physically, yeah, I guess. Mentally I'm exhausted. I can compare my anxiety these days to someone playing a musical saw. Unnatural, high frequency, and oscillating in the oddest of ways. Sometimes I feel alright and I'm able to do things. Other days I pop my anxiety medicine like it's a Pez dispenser and just sit in my room staring blankly at walls...or the inside of my eyelids.

I know, I know. I don't write. I know I SHOULD be writing but I'll be damned if I have the motivation. I generally only have it in me to wake up, make a few cups of coffee, smoke a few cigarettes, and then escape for the rest of the day. I use video games primarily to escape and, while it keeps me sane, it leaves little room for anything else. And if I do get the bug to do a review (which, as I'm sure you know, is rare), I usually end up writing half of it and then let it languish in the stagnant pond that is "drafts" on Blogger. I've got about 20-25 reviews that I just don't have the heart to back-fill with the inane chatter I love putting into my posts but I also don't have the heart to just post them as is because that's just boring. For awhile I thought that I was tiring of booze and writing about it and talking about it and thinking about it...but that's not true. Attending ADI filled me with just a maelstrom of passion and energy about what I do. Granted, it was quickly consumed in the ever-raging fires of anxiety...but it's not like my interest has waned in any way. It is, as the quote by Eric Hoffer states, the weariness of not doing what I want to do for the past year coupled with the weariness of having to do what I don't want to do now.

Don't worry, however. I still have ALL the samples that I've been sent, in various states of cognizance of location. I don't throw booze away...that's sacrilegious. They are all safe, sound, and whole awaiting final judgement by my maw. But until I can get motivated, they will stay unmolested and dormant in my cellars until I call upon them.

I'm not going away, I'm just being quiet as I have been. Just wanted to drop you an update so you don't worry about me. If you'd like to help me (can't fathom why you would), send me emails/tweets/etc. of what you want me to review, to talk about, to analyze. I love reader feedback and I don't get terribly much. So help me get out of this rut and send me some sweet emails. Let's work on this together.

"Life is one long process of getting tired." - Samuel Butler