I like them legs: Metaxa Grand Fine

As I sit watching out the paráthyro (It's Greek, παράθυρο, look it up), my glass has a brown burgundy glow. Close to the hair color of the girl sunbathing out my window. I gaze downstairs through my glass and focus. Sweet cookie aroma, slightly spicy, and a floral fragrance that rises and travels, filling the mind. Pleasantly warmed, I sit in the shining sun and contemplate her intoxicating perfume. The brandy swirls as I rise out of my chair. The twirling liquid leaves long slick legs along the sides. Walking past the windows, I look down the glass and get lost in those lush legs.

I plop on my couch. As I sink, I drink. Sweet velvet and spicy roses, with a pleasant, but perilous bite of alcohol, that seduces a smile from me. Lying on my couch, the flavor fades and I'm left with images of the warm sun and her perfume.

Metaxa is a Greek distillery that produces several styles of liquors, but are most well known for their "brandy". A brandy is distilled wine that has been aged on oak. Metaxa's version takes a high proof brandy and dilutes it down with white muscat grapes. Shortly after a special herb blend (which does include rose petals) and then aged on limousine oak. The are five main ages: 3, 5, 7, and 12 star (stars referring to the number of years of the youngest brandy in the blend). The last is a Grand Reserve that is blended with 20-30 year old barrels. Other special editions are occasionally released. I was drinking the Grand Fine which is a special edition blend that is an extra old blend (some of the brandies used are 40 years old) and then bottled in a Greek amphora painted with a floral design.

A drink

A little corny, but ehh...I have been drinking

A drink is far more than the ingredients in the glass. Its the people brewing the beer, the people creating a recipe for that beer style, the history behind that style...and behind that? Its the science that, like a moth into a butterfly, evolves a young wort, into a beer. That, hopefully, is poured into a glass that can properly portray into a glass that can properly portray the aromas and spectacle that has resulted from all of this care and love.

Now excuse me I'm gonna go eat my bowl of creamed corn (which, by the way, in Texas...fu_*_king rocks. Made with real cream!).

A French Fix

In the dark...alone in my kitchen. Stillness. A dim town departed, typically teeming this time of night. The eerie crimson light smoldering in the background. I look for comfort, and I find my thoughts on my family. I'm on my own now but they have trained me well.

In the dark...I fumble and feel my way around the refrigerator. Grabbing objects as I recognize their packaging. Clumsily I sit down and begin to assemble the ingredients in the shadow of my table. I slice a piece of brie and can feel the knife crackle through the rind. Lifting up and biting the spectral slice of cheese.. the pungent aroma and soft creamy flavor find me in the dark simultaneously. I uncover a bottle of wine and an opener after an additional trip into the dim depths of my kitchen. The pop of the cork fills the dark with a brief sound of life. I sit back and look where I think my meal is. Ham and brie sandwiches and a French table wine. I feel calm and comforted...I'm ready.

In the dark...I lift my glass...and toast the dark. I toast myself, my family. I toast the firemen. I toast my bread, wishing it were toast. And then...I toast the French, who I imagine would have a similar solution to this fix. Things are never too dire as long as there's time to enjoy some food, and have a drink.

The Beach is Burning

--when the power is out and you can see the fires about, might as well make horrible poetry--

The burning hills test my survival skills.
With the fire in sight, I watch on in fright.
Smoke clogs my mind...I just can't think.

So I take a drink.

An aroma of smoked Earth and fruity salt
Comes from the embered skies and my malt

I pour some more Scotch
as we sit here and watch,
This scene of horror.

we drink some more

Time passes, and drains our glasses

More people come, so I grab some rum
Oohh... here comes a girl in pink

slowly now--

I take a drink

--the blaze has burned to the brink--

scared now--

I take a drink

The sun goes down as I swirl my rum around.
Ash rain and the night's glow.
I'll move slow, but it's time to go,
and sleep in my bed.

The next morning I dread

that feeling in my head.

Written on the first night of the fires. I mean this in good fun (I'm not saying it ain't true though) and is my way of dealing with the situation. Because in case you haven't noticed the fires are a little too close for comfort. My heart goes out to all the firemen and those who have lost homes or have been evacuated. And to drink...it was Jura Superstition (the eerie name seemed fitting), Gentleman's Jack, and Bacardi Gold (hey it was on sale)