Fine dining is not dead

“Are you a musician?” The server asked me. “You look like someone I’ve seen before but I can’t place you.” After quizzing each other with various people and places we may have met, it turned out in the nineties we both worked at local wine shops and may have crossed paths at industry tastings. Maybe I’d recognize him clearer if he shaved his beard, but probably not.

It was the first time I’d been in The Refectory, one of the finest restaurants in the city, in my entire time here, and the moment I entered the main dining room I regretted missing out on those lost decades. It’s a beautiful space in an old church. The decor was fresh, there was nothing tired about the place.

And we were there now. Finally met the sommelier after following him on social media for a few years. He poured us a couple of amuse bouche samples of obscure Italian wines to start the show.

We had very good wine. She had antelope, I had the four course chef’s menu. The sous vide beef shoulder was outstanding. Nothing was rushed. The staff on the floor were all working together with a learned precision that was not pretentious, but natural. Our dinner a few years back at the Ubiquitous Chip in Glasgow was outstanding in quality and service, but last night went past that. The Refectory is a skilled team from front of house to back.

There was no way I could afford to go in there until now. Even when I was in the wine business in the nineties it could not be done.

As we ate I was thought about a quote a local chef recently said in an article about her. She said that fine dining was dead. This is the same chef who passively/aggressively insulted my wife in front of a dining room full of people. The same chef who partnered with a local brewery owner who is now accused of sexual assault by multiple women. Fine dining is not dead, it’s the lazy, uncreative and harmful attitudes of those who control the narrative that should be. On our way out we walked past one of the former food critics from the Dispatch, who had just finished his dinner. I was never fond of his writing style, it turned into a template the last few years of his reign. Yet when a place gets outstanding reviews for over thirty years, innovates with the times to provide a superior dining experience, you keep going back. As will we, sooner than later. It’s worth it.

Song in my head

That three throw closeout

Events this past week have brought my head space back twenty years in some ways. A lot of thinking where I was, where I went and why, and where I am now. Somewhere in all that is the how.

And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.

Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.

A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.

There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.

The year that keeps on taking

George Michael was an incredible talented musician. He became an artist after starting out as a boy duo with Andrew Ridgely with Wham!

This was my favorite song of his. Dead, and only a year older than me. And this year still has six days left.

Still relevant, insight spot on almost 30 years later

Perot's giant sucking sound has gone in another direction

Back in the late 90's at my horrible job at Long's Bookstore my coworker in the supply department and I would listen to the Jim Rome radio show while pricing merchandise.

Say what you want about Rome, it does not really matter now. One of his 'rules' for getting on the phone in part of the show was, "Have a take, and don't suck."

And get of my lawn I would like social media commenters to follow that Rome Rule, but it does not happen.

Plenty of takes from people who like to see their profile pictures in the comments section, who may seem to thrive on the attention their posts get, negative or not - and plenty of sucking out there.

I do not have much energy to engage with people I know, let alone strangers on the internet. Better for me to keep quiet.

So i will walk without care, beat my snare, look like a man who means business

Been a shit couple of days, even without the Brexit. My Son is still not transitioning well between his caregiver and coming to my house afterwards. There's a lot of shrieking, hissing and general unhappiness and it takes him a long time to calm down. Even today he greeted my cheerful, "good morning!" with shrieking and pounding on his bed. I know I'm not the cool parent, but this does not inspire me.

While prepping his lunch, this song came on iPod shuffle.



My Aunt was on the one who got me onto Rufus, he was on Geffen and she sent me his first record. That was the first song I heard and I have been a fan even since. Even went to see him live at the Newport during a sad period of my life when I was single. Imogen Heap opened, and Jon Hopkins was in her band. Things do go full circle as Hopkins and King Creosote have come into my radar.

This was on my Aunt's wall, so this show of his that she saw meant a lot to her. She would not have framed it otherwise.



So even with the small blow to her planning that Brexit took yesterday, and with everything else happening, maybe she's trying to cheer me up a little. I'm still not sure what to believe anymore.

Snow Day reading about craft beer turns into a blog post

Another snow day today so while the boy is upstairs on his iPad I got to read an interesting local blog post about weirdness in the local craft beer trade. I've read some interesting whispers about things that are happening locally that are quite sad and disturbing and I'm pleased to see someone was brave enough to put their thoughts down.

Very little of what the author wrote surprised me. She was spot on in her reporting that micro-breweries are putting out mediocre beer just to have something new to market. If you can't establish why you wanted to become a craft brewer with a signature beer or two, drinkers are going to find you out when you keep putting adjectives into cans instead of decent product.

Read the post I linked to, it summarizes a lot of what I've been micro-ranting about on social media for the past few years.

Here's my post about Trophy Beverages from 2014.

When I worked for McGee's back in the nineties, there was a lot of cooperation and synergy between retailer/wholesaler and the few micro-breweries in Columbus at the time. We were trying to break even at best, which did not happen to McGee's in the long run, and introduce good products to our customers. And if a brand did not work, we did not recommend or support it. Sorry to Gambrinius who had some massive sanitation issues when an attempt was made to bring the brand back.

Every Friday turned into a beer tasting, we'd open up the new stuff, people would bring in beer that they had acquired on the travels to The Party Source or out of state and we'd discover what was happening in other states or a cool foreign beer we could not get in Ohio. Sure it was illegal to do it so openly, it was all new.

Our shop put on one of the first outdoor beer festivals in Columbus in 1996 when we pitched a couple of tents in the Bank Block parking lot behind the shop, invited the local brewers and wholesalers to pour their stuff, had a homebrew competition and we had a reasonably good time doing it.

There was allocated product, but no one really went without. No retailer really tried to hoard all of any given release, our customers did not buy up all of our product for their use. There was sharing, and that spirit seems to have disappeared. The changes of the industry and the drinking culture bros who go for the trophy brews over anything else, is flattening my interest.

Saw this episode, went out and bought the CD the next day

Charles and Diana did not make it to 34, either

The dirt from my forearm
has stained this desktop into a work patina
Determined years of rest and sweat with
the advancement of scroll finger arthritis
An occasional twinge of notice
there has been nothing from you
on my screen for half of the hours
our battery wires touched before corrosion set in
The acid in the gorge between us damaged any
traditional thirty year pearl past hope of recovery

Your release of a guillotine curtain was the final act
that slammed down any remaining impressions
of whatever joy I kept in a picture frame
Aftershock fragments bounce over the skyline of the city you left
There’s only absence seen through the side mirror
It’s hard to steer away when my hands hurt
Cannot tell if it’s age or road rage
Sympathies never exchanged
after the deaths of relatives, friends
Now we are separated by light years

You constructed the wall you thought I played hide and seek behind
Blocked me out with the skills of the best defensemen
Of course there will not be a gift to celebrate how naive we were
Did we expect anything less from each other
after all this neglect and decay?
When the officiant’s seeing eye dog barked
in the office we all crammed into
I was not listening, always short sighted
Never smelt the fragrance of lilies
on that day we joked about blind justice

World Party at the Basement

His music helped calm and keep me sane in the nineties. It was his most prolific songwriting period to date and he almost did not make it out of the following decade. Karl Wallinger, for all intensive purposes is the band World Party and last night I finally got to see him live.

The wait was almost twenty five years. As far as I know he only played Columbus once, for a local radio station’s festival and I blew that off because I did not want to deal with a crowd of people and hear bands I did not like while waiting for the group I wanted to see play half an hour. So when the date was announced I was bummed because it fell on a kid night, but my wife took on the duty so I could go.

The Basement is an odd venue. It was my first time there and I plan on avoiding it as much as I can. There are pillars that erase sight lines, a pit in front of the band that has to be Hell to be in when a band with a heavier sound plays. The audience crowds a smaller space just to be able to see the band, leaving tons of empty space by the bar wasted - the sound is quieter, and better where you cannot see the band. It’s a messed up design.

Gabriel Kelly opened and played to a mostly inattentive audience. He gave it his best, thanked the people who were paying attention and laid into the Nashville songwriting scene, which he was a part of for a few years. He did a quiet set of well crafted, introspective songs and added a very good cover of Springsteen’s Atlantic City. Told him he did a good set when he walked by me, “Thanks brother,” he said as he tapped me on the shoulder.

Right after his set, my friend Teri showed up, then Wallinger, along with fiddler Danny Duffy and guitarist John Turnbull began some rather astonishing work. Not having a drummer by choice can hinder a band. I’ve seen Lucinda Williams and Warren Zevon strain to connect with a crowd because they did not have anyone behind them kicking their ass forward but in this instance all was well. The musicianship and new arrangement were superb and Turnbull, who played with Ian Dury’s Blockheads, was incredible with some very tasty leads.

As for the songs, I’ve been waiting to hear Sweet Soul Dream for such a long time and they delivered. A lot of the Goodbye Jumbo record was performed. He did a wonderful She’s the One. It was almost as if Wallinger asked me to put the set together before the show. The banter with the crowd was pleasant and witty, the man is a pro. He was in great voice and showed no effects from the brain aneurysm that required years of rehab over a decade ago. Took home a cd they were selling of a recent show. I heard everything I wanted last night and more, it was worth the wait.

About trophy beverages

When I was in the alcohol business in the late eighties and nineties there were a few wines that were allocated. Products that had such a scarcity the distributors doled them out to favored accounts. These were generally wines that had a high score from either the Wine Spectator or Robert Parker. Once the publication came out, the wines would generally disappear from shelves, or get an additional mark up by the retailer until they sold.

Where I worked was not one of the favored accounts so we'd get the phone calls asking if we had that wine Robert Parker gave a 97, a wine that only had 500 cases available. If you think that wine would ever show up in Columbus, Ohio you were sadly mistaken.

Back then, one of the trendiest and sought after wines was made by Silver Oak. Their wines were released once or twice and if we were lucky our shop would get a bottle or two. That's it. And how do you decide who gets it? It was a tough call. Thing was, I had the wine and was never impressed with even the better vintages. There were better wines available at far less cost, but do not tell a person who has their heart set on it. We always seem to want what we cannot have more than what is in front of us, that's human nature I guess.

These days, there are many other wines that have high ratings and are even scarcer than Silver Oak ever was. Now I see Silver Oak in Kroger and have a little chuckle each time.

I'm amused at the fever that is going on for a bourbon called Pappy Van Winkle. I'm told it's good, and its price point, which if it's not given a jack up by a retailer, seems fair enough for the quality I've heard about. But the lines I've seen of people waiting to purchase a bottle are turning into a Best Buy experience, and no liquor is worth that. There are plenty of excellent bourbons available.

Again, people want the most what they cannot get and will ignore a salesperson's recommendation. I've never had Pappy Van Winkle and have no desire to get on the Trophy Beverage bandwagon. There used to be wines on my bucket list, but I can't even afford to look at a bottle of what I'd like to try anymore. I saw a bottle of Domaine Romanee Conti for 3,500 bucks last month and cracked up because it was in a locked plastic case. Wine displayed as art.

Sure, if offered to buy a shot of Pappy Van Winkle I'd probably spring for it. I lucked out a couple of years ago by getting to try a bit of Westvleteren, a Belgian Trappist brewery that is not readily available in the U.S. It was good stuff, but nowhere near worth what the person paid for it on the grey market. That same night I had a sip of a North Korean plum liquor, which was not as bad as it sounds - and how many of us can say they tried a bottle of that and lived?

I could not care less about Hop Slam and was very entertained by the social media controversy last year when a local retailer tried to corner the market on it by buying an entire grocery store's stock. Can't wait to see what happens when next year's allocation is released.

The liquor cabinet here is nicely stocked, and I'm still trying to find a dark rum I like. That's the hunt I enjoy more than looking for a specific brand.

There stands the glass

Columbus lost an icon of wine retail this week when Roger Gentile died on Monday. Gentile's Wine has been in business for sixty years and Roger has been in charge for over forty of them. It's not a big shop, but the selection is quality and carefully selected. He shared his wine knowledge through conversation, teaching, and in two books on wine he wrote.

I did not know him well but had a lot of respect for him as a person. He was always fun to be around during trade tastings and after the owner of the shop I managed died, he came in to offer condolences, and not to be a vulture by eyeing the store as a possible thing to poach on the cheap the way some other owners did. I appreciated the kindness he showed me during that rough time.

May his family, friends and all those he shared wine with over his long career have some peace at this sad time. Slainte.

A less funny world tonight

Robin Williams died today of an apparent suicide at the age of 63. He could be a good actor in the right part, and he chose a lot of parts on both ends of the scale. He was always working, to pay the bills, maybe to keep the sadness from taking over.

As a comedian he was a direct descendant of the great Jonathan Winters. His skills at improvisation were unmatched. Sure, he went toward the easy dick joke too many times, but he was great at riffing a good dick joke.

Years ago, I met his brother Todd, who ran a winery. He died of heart disease a couple of years ago.

His onstage energy was amazing. His comic mind brilliant. It's a sad night as his passing is mourned.

This episode of The Actor's Studio had to be cut from a five hour taping. There are some moments of comic magic there. Magic that will no longer be created by Williams, but thankfully has been left for us.

No room for cream, but thanks

I'm not on the I Hate Corporate Coffee bandwagon. Do I try to support my local coffee shops? Absolutely. I get my beans from Stauf's and think One Line has the finest cup in the city. Did I like Starbucks' business practices when they were opening shops across from many independent coffee shops in town back in the nineties? Not really, no. But I did not go to them.

That said the Starbucks I go to has very friendly and dedicated staff. When I work early weekend mornings, I frequent one close to my workplace for coffee and a bagel. The people who work there are amazingly cheerful and efficient for being at work at 6:30 on a Sunday. Certainly more perky than I can ever aspire to be, even at mid-day. So I salute the people at the Starbucks on Olentangy River Road.

This morning the store's music was playing this song. Grim subject matter, but energy providing.

Earworm

Heard this song for the first time about ten years ago of the closing credits of an episode of the TV show Ed. Did not really listen to Blue Rodeo back in the day, but this is a darn good tune.

Feel like I should be doing something

I sometimes get antsy around this time of year. The holidays make me anxious even without my retail past. Used to be a very busy time of year for me. A lot of hard work making sure folks got their booze. Had to make sure there was enough, without breaking the budget on inventory. It was a difficult balance but there were times the last four weeks of the year were nothing but profit. There were also times we had to sell enough to make payroll, and to buy merchandise.



I'm not sure when this picture was taken on Main Street in Fredonia, sometime in the late sixties is my guess. But that sign that says "Liquor Store" was still there the last time I visited.

Business was a bit more successful in Fredonia. Mr. B. had been running the show for awhile. Thanksgiving was always the busiest holiday of the year, with the day before being the day that brought the biggest receipts. Mr. B. even went in for a few hours by himsef on Thanksgiving Day morning. He seemed to enjoy taking care of people getting their last minute wine and liquor.

For the life of me I cannot remember if Mr. S., after he bought the business, went in on those mornings. I can't remember if I went instead. The late eighties were a bit of a blur to me.

Things in Columbus were no different at first. We blew out so much wine at the Holiday. So much Beaujolais Nouveau and Champagne went out the door. We really kicked ass for a couple of years. We'd drink good wine the night before each holiday. Sometimes Perrier Jouet, Dom Perignon one year, we worked hard and drank well. I miss the pre-cooked shrimp C. would bring from Johnson's downtown.

The year I ran the place my ex-wife helped out a lot along with a man who used to be a bar regular. He spelled me on the floor and did quite a good job at it. The extra hands were needed. We made a little money that year. I honestly cannot remember if we were open on Thanksgiving Day at any of the shops I worked at in Columbus.

At the other eponymous wine shop I worked at, the tone shifted. Because the owner was screwing up so much we did not have basics to sell, especially in home brewing supplies. More than a few people left empty handed and disappointed. Hundreds, if not thousands of dollars in sales lost because he did not know how to buy and would not listen to reason from the co-owner or myself. The pressure was immense, selling merchandise just to make payroll instead of profiting from our work. Holidays sucked in the later part of the nineties. I got tired of saying no, it hurt.

It was vastly different at the bookstore. Even with all the craziness, and it was nuts, there never seemed to be much pressure. The stuff was going to sell, it was just those damn loyalty cards that management wanted sold. Luckily, I did not work the register much.

At the library, it's another world. From my desk I barely see the change from quarters to semesters - maybe a little bit in how the books flow into the building but that's it. I barely miss retail and have little desire to be out in it. I'm seeing Black Friday push back into Thanksgiving Day and it's a matter of time before Thanksgiving Eve comes into play. It's tough when so much business is done during one four week period of the year, but when did the the joy of shopping and giving become a obsessive fetish instead of a pleasure?

Even now though, many years removed from the madness, I get a bit triggered about what transpired, and try to find the good things that happened during my time in the retail wine scrum. I can still pick an awesome wine to go with turkey.

Rest in Peace, Adam Yauch

I first heard them in the early eighties, home from college, late night on one of the New York City college stations. Cookie Puss. A combo of punk and rap that I had never heard before.

A few years later License to Ill came out and was a game changer. Big seller. Huge during a time when MTV still played videos. I was amazed at the production of Paul's Boutique and the massive amount of sampling that went into it. One of the best nights of DJing of my life had a former bouncer of the bar we were in screaming the lyrics of Fight for Your Right at me.



They kept it going in the nineties with one of the best music videos ever made.

It was announced today that MCA aka Adam Yauch died of cancer. He was my age.

This One Time, I Saw 24 Hour Party People

Had a good time at a friends gathering last night. There were a number of Brits there and they were reminiscing about the Manchester music scene of the late 80's early 90's.



I did not listen to this band. I have been lent a copy of their first album, the legendary one.

Then there's The Inspiral Carpets, I'm sure I've heard them once or twice.



They were talking about a lot of bands I'd never heard of, nor was very impressed with when I did hear them. Then again, I do not think the nineties were a great decade for music, but what the hell do I know about anything? I did not follow any 'scenes' from Manchester, Seattle or even Columbus.

In the late eighties and early nineties, I was not stable. I was drinking too much, doing a few other things I should not have been doing. Not healthy. Certainly not paying too much attention to the music. Not paying much attention to anything, other than opening up a red or white. And what music did catch my ear, well, I remember a certain person in my life calling this band The Noisies.



In hindsight, she don't know shit.

There were more than a few lost years in there, 88-89, 95-97, I have no idea what I was listening to. Crowded House, Counting Crows. My ears did not open back up again with any attention until I heard Summerteeth.



Spent the next few years listening to some good and bad Americana. After that came Arcade Fire, and the the rest of the crazy decade.

When we head back to my wife's house in the olde country, we'll be going though her cd collection and bring a bunch of it back - what will fit in the suitcase next to the IRN-Bru, anyway. I'm sure some of it will be pretty good music, she has good taste, after all.