Although we Wine Giques like to share wisdom about wine and how it relates to parties, boys and shoes (not necessarily in that order), we also occasionally like to include some basic, useful info, just to prove that we know what we're talking about.  So, given the recent heat wave on the Left Coast, and Suenarita's recent departure for the sultry climes of the Deep South, we thought it might be useful to hand out a few tips for storing wine, just to remind ourselves that a little pampering goes a long way for just about anything. 

My friend Marissa turned me on to this NY Times article on my favorite summer drink, the michelada.  Both she and I seem to love the versions they make at ¡Lotería!, a local authentic upscale Mexican eatery, with locations in Hollywood and at Farmer's Market (and yes, you must use those explanation points when you refer to it). 

And, as usual, even though it's written up in the venerable Grey Lady, you've got to hand it to La-La Land for pioneering the trend ... most NY restaurants don't seem to have heard of this tasty concoction, as the author himself points out. 

Score another one for the Left Coast.  What's the talley now?  Eleven-eleven million to oh, six?  Manhattanites, feel free to respond.  But not before you hoist a michelada or two.  

Photo from the NY Times.

Suenarita and I apologize.  We've been busy -- she, decamping for the wilds of Hotlanta, me, well, doing whatever it is I do all the time. 

But when I saw this, I knew we had to spring into action.  This is not proper Wine Giques attire.  

It's obviously called the "Wine Rack."  I can't think of any place where this might be appropriate, unless perhaps you're loading it up with box wine for a "Little KISS" reunion concert.  THEN it might be considered somewhat clever and ironic.  

Get yourself a cooler, honey.  And some GoVino® wine glasses.  We'll talk. 

And, in true Wine Giques fashion, now that we're through shopping for our fancy party shoes, we're offering up 10 wine picks to accompany the 10 Best Picture nominees, in honor of the hoi-polloi like us, who are enjoying the festivities with friends in the comfort of our own private screening, er, living rooms.  The movies are listed in alphabetical order, by the way, as we'd hate to betray our favorites:  the Wine Giques are friends to everyone in Hollywood.  After all, you never know who you're going to run into in a small town like this. 

Avatar -- Well, the more obvious among us would say that the proper wine to pair with this dimensional sci-fi extravaganza would be Blue Nun.  We're going to take the high road and suggest that you procure a magnum of 1992 Screaming Eagle, and then invite 37,352 friends over to help you enjoy the biggest, most expensive wine you've ever had.

The Blind Side --The touching tale of Baltimore Ravens offensive tackle Michael Oher might deserve a wine that's a bit lyrical with a hardscrabble backstory.  We took a simpler route and chose our favorite from a recent blind tasting: 2007 Trenza Tinto.  An unusual and delicious blend of Spanish Tempranillo with classic Rhône varietals from California's San Luis Obispo region, it's the kind of wine created by winemakers who are not blinded by tradition. 

District 9 -- This one was easy.  South Africa is apparently producing both spectacular filmmakers and spectacular wines these days.  We recommend 2008 Indaba Shiraz.  Indaba apparently means "meeting of the minds" in Zulu, and although that seemed unattainable in District 9, we're sure that you won't mind meeting this lovely bottle laced with fruit and spice.  And at $10 a pop, it's an affordable pleasure -- just like this great indie film.  

An Education -- As the parents of teenage daughters, this movie frightens us.  However, we can't deny the deliciousness of its soundtrack, filled with classic torch songs and sultry French chanteuses.  We chose a French classic ourselves, 1999 Chateau Pavie Macquin St. Emilion.  Apparently, the grapes in this wine escaped a hailstorm that pummeled the rest of the countryside that year, to reach a transcendence denied others in their peer group.  Very appropriate.  

The Hurt Locker -- By now, we all know about the media-manufactured rivalry between the director of this film, Kathryn Bigelow, and her ex-husband, James Cameron, who directed a certain blue-themed movie listed above.  We'd like to applaud Ms. Bigelow for blazing trails in what is still very much a boys club, and offer up a wine by one of our very favorite woman winemakers:  2005 Martinelli Jackass Hill Zinfandel, made by Helen Turley and Bryan Kvamme.  Will set you back $165, but like every fine woman, it's worth every penny. 

Inglourious Basterds -- We know Quentin Tarantino is an acquired taste, one we have grown to love over the years, as we've cultivated our knowledge of wine, shoes, movies and Japanese swords.  We can only wish that his imaginative retelling of WWII were true, then salute Christophe Waltz' tour de force performance with our favorite Grüner Veltliner, Domäne Wachau Federspiel Terrassen 2008.  Only $17, and after a few glasses, you'll no longer fear that umlaut. 

Precious -- Yes, we know the movie's actual title is longer, but we're tired of typing and want to get on to more important things, like telling you what to drink.  For this harrowing tail, we're tempted to recommend a stiff shot of oblivion-inducing Everclear, but in the interest of consistency, we'll stick to the wine.  Our choice:  2005 Brown Estate Chaos Theory.  Like the movie's heroine, it's a unique blend -- in this case, Cabernet & Zinfandel -- and it comes from one of the precious-few African-American-owned wineries in the country.

A Serious Man -- Although chaos theory is certainly appropriate for this modern retelling of the parable of Job, we chose to focus on the other physics-related aspects of the latest Coen brothers' opus.  Face it, despite its distinctly Jewish flavor, this is really a film about Shrödinger's Cat.   So we recommend the very serious 2005 EMH Vineyards Black Cat Cabernet.  A few sips, and you'll be grateful to Hashem for creating such pleasures. 

Up -- Although this putative children's movie is filled with balloons and airiness, it's ultimately a down-to-earth story about friendship, love, and coming to terms with loss.  Pixar's continuing ability to make us laugh while yanking our heartstrings is worth a rousing toast, and our libation of choice is Iron Horse Cuvee Joy!, a vintage sparkling wine from John Lasseter's beloved Sonoma County.  It's produced only in magnums, so make sure you pack as many friends as possible into your house before you unpack the bubbles and take off for the Amazon. 

Up in the Air -- Ordinarily we'd avoid a film about a professional corporate downsizer, given the current depressing state of employment and its concomitant effect on the wine industry.  However, we'd attend the opening of an envelope if George Clooney were involved ... so, here we are.  To celebrate this quirky, complicated, and ultimately satisfying film, we offer up a similarly-themed wine: 2005 Shypoke Charbono.  Made from an underused varietal grape, like the Clooney, it goes down smooth but finishes with a punch. 

So, there you have it.  There's still time to go shopping before the cameras start rolling.  And have your people call our people after the show, darling.   Kiss kiss.

Three things made me very happy last night (even though it was Giorgio the houseboy's night off):

1) The delicious vegetarian cassoulet I made.  Recipe here.

2) The big, honkin' glass of 2007 Les Hèrétiques I drank with the cassoulet.  Carignan & Syrah blend, classic flavors from the Languedoc for a classic Languedoc dish (well, sans the carnivorous stuff).

3) The Daily Show's brilliantly ironic skewering of cable news "expert" panels.

That is all.

Now, I know parenting is best performed in a sober state, but sometimes, just sometimes (especially when you're raising a child on your own, as I am), you just need to take the edge off.  Especially when your grounded offspring spends the entire day begging you if she can go to a party that night.  I'm serious.  Every 15 minutes, all day long.  Now, I've raised my kid to have a mind of her own, and to be relentless in pursuing what she wants, but Rhonda, I'm tellin' you, on that Saturday, I regretted it. 

So I did what any sane mother would do.   I locked myself in the garage-cum-guesthouse with a baguette, some Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk, and a container of tiny Niçoise olives.  Then I dragged out the Shakespeare in Love DVD, and proceeded to self-medicate, ignoring the pleading looks periodically cast through the French doors.   By periodically, I mean every 15 minutes, all day long.  

My catholicon of choice?  2007 Apothic Red, apparently named for some mythical place in 13th century Europe where they blended and stored wine.  An appropriately mysterious moniker for a California blend of uncertain provenance.  Pretty soon, I was wrapped up in the deliciousness of the wine and Joseph Fiennes:  both somewhat forward and a bit fruity (well, the clothes they wore then were kind of foppish, weren't they?), with a smooth touch on the lips and decidedly elegant finish.  

By that time, the sun had gone down, and the teenager had realized that I wasn't giving in, no matter how hard she tried.  She buckled and I invited her in, and we finished off the cheese with a celebratory viewing of Jurassic Park.  (I know just how that T-Rex felt, believe me.  Very, very irritated.)

The cost for my mental poultice, by the way?  $8.99, on special, $11.99 when not.  Such a bargain that it's now a mainstay in the pharmacy, where it's been busy curing the neighbors of their own teenager-related afflictions, one lovely sip at a time. 

Summer is not letting go gracefully here in Southern California.  The end of August has given birth to dog days of uncommon ferocity, with temperatures near 100°F even on the coast, and raging wildfires that threaten to reduce both our Twitter accounts and our stargazing abilities to dust.  Outside activities are curtailed, houses are sealed up tight, and the constant pillar of smoke on the horizon has created a lurking apocalyptic anxiety even among the most cheery of Angelenos. 

Under the circumstances, we all could use a stiff drink. 

Ever the public servant, I set about cataloging my favorite fire-themed wines, to recommend them to you, dear readers, as a more social alternative to Xanax and uncontrollable sobbing.  Fires are an undeniable and unwelcome fact of life in California; winemakers are just as prone as anyone else to enjoying a bit of irony in their lives.

2003 Shafer Firebreak "Last Chance" Sangiovese:   2003 was the last vintage of this wine, and like all lost classics, we mourn its passing.   Firebreak originally earned its moniker in 1981 when winery owner John Shafer planted a vineyard near his house to serve as a firebreak after one conflagration too many.  Redolent of cherries, red currents and a bit of tobacco, it has always reminded me of my favorite Cal-Italian lover (no, I never kiss and tell):  sweet on the lips, smooth going down.  If you know someone who has a bottle, cultivate a friendship with him/her, and insist on an invitation to dinner.  $40, if you can find it. 

2006 Fire Station Red Cabernet Sauvignon:  This label was actually created by John Drady, owner of Sonoma Coast Winery.  A firefighter himself, Drady accurately assessed that making available a kick-ass wine just might help fundraising efforts for fire departments everywhere.  He was correct.  I prefer mine served by the smokin' hot gents from Engine Company 29.  Cherry, raspberry, chocolate-coffee, not overly tannic, and a bargain at $12.

2006 Sea Smoke TEN Pinot Noir:  Yes, it's less about fire and more about fog, but I thought it deserved a place on the list.  As I slurped it down at a wine-tasting event, I made these notes in my WineSnob iPhone app:  "Deserves its name.  Tastes of salt air."  Yes, I write that kind of crap at wine-tastings.  The wine is a classic, and at $125 bucks a bottle, it better be.   Be sensible, go buy it, and run away to Washington State coastline with your favorite sailor, where you'll be able to enjoy it in the aforementioned cool salt air.

And, just for fun, here's the song in the title from Hank Williams III.  Please don't forget to donate to your local Red Cross. If you're in the LA area, donations of money and pet food are welcome, as well.  Photo provided to the New York Times by a reader.

Actually, I think it might be in the air.  My tribe seems to have burst onto the pop culture scene, with a vehemence that far outstrips anything that's been going on on the Food Channel.  It's all about Julia, you see.  Julie and Julia has awakened interest in She Who Rocked Our World (as she's generally regarded among restaurateurs and foodies) in a way that seemed impossible even in the midst of the general chef-worship that has permeated our national airwaves.  Julia's 40-year-old magnum opus is back on the best-seller list. Card retailers can't keep a "What Would Julia Do?" greeting card in stock.  And to top it all off, last Saturday was Julia's birthday, which precipitated a frenzy of French cooking in kitchens across the country.

So, what does this have to do with Wine Giques?  Well, it means I refuse to indulge in the worst of my weekday habits:  ordering out.  I'm determined to cook every meal I eat at home, at least until the euphoria wears off.  And believe me, thanks to my ex-husband the chef and my finely-honed sense of revenge, I have the cookbook collection to do it.  (Although I am lacking Mastering the Art of French Cooking, owning instead the more-definitively titled The Way to Cook.  I prefer to sidestep all the cultural nuances and go straight to the ...uh, meat, of things.)

Tonight was "what do we have in the fridge?" night.  You know the scene.  You saw it in The Big Chill:  the one where you stand in front of the refrigerator and stare.  Luckily, I usually have a treasure-trove of basics stashed in there:  Plugra butter, shaved Reggiano, fresh greens, stock, cream, olives.  And a few interesting things, like green peppercorns and dry vermouth (hey, I already mentioned the martinis).  Just to mix it up a little, I also opened the freezer and stared.  A bag of tiny frozen peas caught my eye, and we were off to the races.  I pulled out my trusty copy of Pasta Classica, and there it was:  Tagliatelle con Piselli, Salame e Prosciutto.   I made a few substitutions here and there, nearly swooned over the aroma of onions browning in butter, held back the salame for my batch of pasta to appease my vegetarian teenager, et voilà, dinner.  (The dish uses both the green peppercorns and the dry vermouth, BTW.)  I even barked out a cheery "Bon Appétit!" to the teenager when she came in to fill her bowl declaring "Ewww. I don't like peas ... but this tastes good."  

Lucky for me, the other thing I had stashed in the fridge was a bottle of 2005 Podere Il Caio Grechetto dell'Umbria, picked up from one of those shiny stacks at the front of Larchmont Wine & Spirits.  The buttery browned onions and the hint of vermouth brought out the nuances in the wine, lifting it from mere dryness to fruit-and-fennel-infused goodness.  I downed a couple of glasses and thought "time to write!" and here I am, imagining that I'm Julia, in the middle of an 8-year labor of love, looking forward to tomorrow night's dinner ... when there will be more friends in town to cook for, and new wines to uncork.  I've had a Julia quote on my Facebook page for months, which sums it all up nicely, as was her wont:  "Life itself is the proper binge."  Oh yes, indeed, Mme. Child, it surely is.

Yes, Suenarita and her Own Personal Captain von Trapp™ came for a visit, and it was stupendously fun -- but the aforementioned Captain wrote about it much better than I ever could.  Since he also cooked the dinner, I'm going to give him his due props and just link right to his blog post:  

Suenarita and I were actually planning to do a joint videoblog that evening, but after reading this post, you'll understand that it was all we could do to drag ourselves to bed, while my Isaac Hayes channel on Pandora wailed away under the stars. 

My buddy Steve is the CFO at the Inn at Little Washington. The Inn is a tiny, spectacular hotel with a consistently amazing restaurant located in the hill country of Virginia. It also happens to be the location of my first romantic getaway with my now-ex-husband, back when we were young, bright-eyed and naive (but no less lusty!). This was years before I met Steve, of course, who was a cherished co-worker with an acerbic wit at Four Seasons It's only fitting that he has relocated his particular brand of sarcasm to the starting point of one of my greatest misadventures (believe me, I cherish them all, adventures & misadventures alike). Steve reminds us how much we miss him by sending us silly emails, and today's was just too good to pass up:

THE BOTTLE OF WINE
For all of us who are married, were married, wish you were married,
or wish you weren't married, this is something to smile about the next time you see a bottle of wine:

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road.

As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride.

With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.

Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman. The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.

'What's in the bag?' asked the old woman.

Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, 'It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband.'

The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said:

'Good trade . . . . . '

Thank you folks, I'm here all week.