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About Eugene weekly. (Eugene, Oregon) 1993-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 6, 2005)
BY LANCE SPARKS Winter Glow Keeping the love alive O “It’s sweet as my little niece.” utside the grimy 18th-floor window, If that Pouilly is a bargain — and it is — a blustery day, the last of ’04, sent then Marsanne 02 Cave de Tain thick fogbanks and low clouds scud- ding across the gritty cityscape of Eugene. l’Hermitage ($8) is a steal. From the north Behind me, I could hear Mole shuffling end of the Rhone Valley where the great around the lab, rattling glasses, bottles and Hermitage reds are made, this white is terrif- bleakers, still singing a Mole-twisted version ic, bright, fresh with citrus and mineral of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”: “... five notes, ready to cuddle up to some crab or bagsa bliiiing ...” mussels; probably near-perfect with fresh I sat at my battle-scarred desk, elbows plant- raw oysters, oh my. ed, both hands gripping my head, trying to keep I’m a confessed fiend for Asian food, all the top from coming off — and no, but thank kinds, especially spicy fish dishes with plen- you Emily Dickinson, it wasn’t Mole-ish lyrics ty of ginger, lemongrass, garlic. Eggplant, blowing off my skull cap. Christmas had yams, salt-and-pepper green beans — been beautifully pagan and utterly gimmesum. Wok’emup, pour absurd, a babbling gaggle of Bonny Doone Pacific Rim feasting friends and family, Dry Riesling ($9), match luscious food, yummy that crisp, clean pear/ wines, a grand effusion of apple/melon fruit with love and generosity that sushi or sauté, be very would’ve made Jesus happy. Oh, and it’s a smile and Sadducees screwtop; owner cringe. Somehow the Randall Grahm is one season always works its of my favorite people magic on me, despite all in winebiz, so witty and the inane pietism and smart he can turn his fine insane retailing, despite even wines away from cork and the barrage of logic-torturing just say, “Screw it.” blather from Bill O’Reilley and Mole just rolled up on me, other beetleheaded clodpates and saying, “You not gonna ferget Ory- closet racists of right-wing gun, are ya? ‘Member dis?” He Grinchery. Savage warfare, ravaging Somehow the thrust toward me Elk Cove 03 disease, mendacious politics, rapa- Pinot Gris ($14). Oh yeah: pinot season always gris can be austere, but this one fills cious corporations, poisonous pol- luters and their servile apologists, all the mouth with juicy flavors of ripe works its these and more merit a brief gloss in pears and melons. Sip it or serve magic on me, with grub, but do not freeze it (best the deep-winter glow of giving abun- dant love. not cold). despite all the cool, Mole-words: Then the news of the Asian “It’s rainin’, wind tsunami, more than 100,000 swept inane pietism howlin’. Lez get red.” away in mere minutes, so many of brought Amity Vineyards and insane 02 Santa them children. Mind-crushing Oregon Gamay Noir , and it was grief, paralyzing devastation with good. Gamay noir is the grape for retailing, yet more to come, and all illustrat- fine Beaujolais, the serious stuff, soft, despite even ripe, easy-drinking, friendly wine for ed by the loutish response of Time’s Mammal of the Year: “... the barrage of rich stews and winter soups. Aromas twelve gourds a-leaking ...” I felt are generous; flavors of black cher- logic-torturing ries and white pepper play rowdy fairly sure that some malevolent mullah had planted an IED (impro- on the palate. Amity has the blather from music vised explosive device) near my added virtue of being among the medulla oblongata. Holding my Bill O’Reilley most ecology-conscious of Oregon head seemed like the thing to do. growers, fine folks. and other “Hey, Sleut’, we gots lotsa Our pals Kathy and Jeff Larkin wines, neat ones, f’ da readers.” beetleheaded moved here from Minnesota couple Mole, wearing a threadbare elf cap, years ago, tell tales of ice fishing in clodpates and 40 below, snows flying, eyelashes held up a double-grip of bottles, grinned at me, all crinkly-eyes closet racists freezing, frost-bitten vitals, stuff like through his Coke-bottle lenses. I dat. When I express envy, they show of right-wing pity, the kind usually reserved for squeezed parietal toward occipital, moaned, went to work. Bushites. I try to explain: I wouldn’t Grinchery. I’ve been accused of being go out in that stuff, just wanna phobic about chardonnay: nuh-uh. watch through an icy window — I just grew tired of versions that were so and open a whup-ass zinfandel, like Cline oak-soaked that they lost fruit character; 02 Ancient Vines ($15), huge wine, deep, marketeers had swamped the shelves with dark, brambly, dense with flavors of black- labels from California, Australia, Chile, all berries, blueberries, pepper, allspice, sandal- tasting about the same — oily, clunky, wood and cedar. This is old-style cowboy zin, woody, dull. And I flat couldn’t afford the will spin your spurs, stoke yer cockles. finest of French white Burgundies (chardon- “Feel betta?” Mole solicited. nay), the great Montrachets or Chablis. Yeah, I feel better. I know it’s a nasty Lately, though, luck let me find little beau- world where terrible stuff happens all the ties like Philippe Tranchand 02 Pouilly- time, usually to sweet people who don’t deserve the pain. But I’m begging all of you: Fuissé ; marked down from $17 to $10, this Find a way to send help to Southeast Asia. dry white is just pretty, with scents of white Share what you can spare, just for the love. flowers and flavors of melon-peach fruit Make some fellow beings’ new year a little and enough acidity to complement white brighter; yours, too. fish and light pastas. In Mole’s judgment, ew trekking? medical advice for global travelers T HE T RAVEL C LINIC 1200 Hilyard St., Suite S-560 343-6028 Start traveling healthy today at www.TravelClinicOregon.com JANUARY 6, 2005 27
