So after I filled out the second biggest check I’ve ever written (just a couple hundred shy of the record set by the down payment on my house) I decided to crack open a bottle of wine to wash away that nervous, vomity feeling and drown my sorrows.

This is what I had:

I had picked this up (by mistake) at a wine tasting I went to last year. I had intended to get a completely different white wine, but when the goobers at the warehouse filled my order, they put the wrong thing in the box. When I discovered the error a couple days later I wasn’t too upset; I remembered this one as being pretty decent.

Oh, how wrong I was.

It’s a real shame, because this label’s Cabernet is one of my absolute favorite wines, period. It’s a faithful standby.

So perhaps it was just this particular bottle that was off. Or perhaps they left the case this bottle came from in the back of a truck for half a Texas summer. Or maybe I was just two sips shy of passing out when I tried this wine at the tasting and it truly was this gawdawful. Though, I’m not sure how my memory could be this faulty, because sweet jeebus this stuff was dreadful. No matter how drunk I am, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t think paint thinner tastes great, and that’s about how far off I feel I was this time around.

Just in case you’re not fully grasping just how much I hated this wine, let me describe it as it should appear in Robert Parker’s notes…

Aromas of burnt apricot and melting latex. The palate opens with a smooth bite of aerosol WD-40, followed by mids of grapefruit rind and talcum powder, then a lingering finish resonating with ear wax and fresh dryer lint.

The worst thing about it is that I’ve recommended this stuff to friends based on my memories of the wine tasting. For that, I feel sheepishly foolish.

Dearest friends, if I have unduly convinced you to put this evil elixir in your mouths, I sincerely apologize. I can only beg your forgiveness. If I have wronged your sense of good taste, please let me buy you a beer of your choice next time I see you.

(Howdy from Memphis!)

Not only does it melt quickly, but the temptation to eat it is damn near unbearable!

Here my sister and I are sitting on the tailgate of my grandfather’s pickup with our Great Aunt Ena.

I don’t think there was ever a time that we visited Uncle Thomas and Aunt Ena where pie wasn’t involved. Aunt Ena made those kinds of pies you’d see on the cover of a Southern Living cookbook. You know … the ones that were never actually IN the cookbook, because no recipe will help you figure out how keep a mountain of meringue that huge from falling.

Here are two more bonus photos from the visit:
EJ and Aunt Ena
Both kids with Uncle Thomas and Aunt Ena

This is the Lewis Grizzard special at Sprayberry’s Barbecue in Newnan, Georgia. It’s a pork barbecue sandwich, cup of Brunswick Stew and a pile of onion rings. Simply put, it’s the best darn meal on the planet.

No seriously, the best. Ever. Next time you see me ask me about my plan to solve world peace through pork barbecue.

The classic example of this is is the Braum’s ad that always manages to find its way into the 8th inning of a Rangers game just as all of their local stores have closed. That kind of taunting is just cruel.

Today I’m watching Godknowswhat at 4:30am while I’m trying to finish up some website code and I’m distracted by an ad for Ruby Tuesday’s new “Triple Prime” burger.

I have no complaints about the burger. I haven’t had one, but if the thing is only one fifth as good as it looks on TV (which one would think to be a reasonable standard) then I’m sure it’s sinfully devine. The idea alone is pure genius. According to their website this burger is “Fresh 100% USDA prime ground beef with prime tenderloin, prime ribeye and prime sirloin blended and grilled to make the finest premium burger.”

Three different cuts of pure red meat? This thing will do for burgers what slapping three blades on a razor did for shaving. I will probably find a way to indulge myself in its greasy goodness next time I end up in Bedford, the nearest city with a Ruby Tuesday.

But for the love of God, it’s pure torture putting this commercial on at 4:30am!

Wimpy, Wimpy, lema sabachthani?

Looking in my fridge I think I’m going to have to settle for Kool-Aid and a granola bar. Talk about disappointment…

Cruelly tasty-looking Creative Commons photo by graciepoo found on Flickr