The Aftermath of Mexican food...

So Brandy, after giving me the go ahead to post the video of her, apres-fart, has decided she doesn't like it. Instead of taking it down, I've decided to add a photo and another video. This is a photo of her when mad.


Doesn't she look just like Conan the Barbarian?

And this is a video of said mad girl

Regal Portfolio tasting at the Skirball Center

This was a nice tasting. Regal put on a good show, and unlike other unnamed companies, used nice glasses. Bravo. I hate to be such a complainer (Well hate IS a strong word) but c'mon, we're supposed to all be professionals here, right? Let's get some decent stemware. So Regal did just that, and Kudos to these guys. Anyhow, this first photo is August Kessler, producer of...


THE KESSLER LINE UP. Some amazing Rieslings and Pinot Noir (or as we say in Germany, Spatburgunder) I have not yet aquired a taste for spatburgunder, perhaps because I've never had a properly aged one. To me, they lack the flavors, grace, and aromas of a Burgundy or even Cali Pinot. It really has to be noted though, that this was only my third or forth intro to a true Spatburgunder, and one of the more important lessons I've learned (or am trying to learn, I should say) is that one shouldn't mistake the limitations of one's own understanding for a limitation of the wine. Simply put, just cause I don't get it, that don't necessarily mean there's somethin' wrong with the juice. Onto the beauty though, Kessler's Rieslings are amongst some of the most reasonably priced for the quality, on up to some of the most sublime (way out of my price league) rieslings I've ever had. A real treat if you should ever get the chance.


Down here we've got the foray into Vincent Girardin. Girardin, or Vinny G, as we used to call him back in NY, is one of my go to Burgs. I shouldn't reveal too much before we actually get this guy on the wine list, cause I want him as my secret weapon, but we will definitely have this guy in the line up, previous tasting notes here. Also got a chance to try his '05 Clos de Vougeot, which while definitely lovely, didn't blow me away as much as I'd expected. A Grand Cru, in 05, from my man Vinny G? Although, these 05 Burg Rouges are beginning to shut down for the big sleep, only to reemerge somewhere around 2015 I'd suppose. It'd be fun to have a chance to revisit then. Let's all hope and pray we're still around.

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And then, there was Chateauneuf du Pape. Not only did we get to try the 05 and 06 Beaucastel CDP, but there was a special seminar where we got to try the 94, 95, 97, 98, 99, and 2000. While none of these were Dead on Arrival, the 94 will probably not show much more life, if it had much to start with. It was the thinnest of the bunch, although even so, was interesting, and had something to show, still alive at 15 years old. The 95 was a marked improvement, much fuller with some complexity, spice and dark fruit. The 97, while younger, didn't have the balance of the 95. The 98 was my winner, the liveliest of the bunch, good balance of dark fruit and structure, lovely spice notes, plush mid-palate. 99 and 00, both did well, but I seemed to notice prematuring age on all of these. I had a 96 and 2000 Pegau CDP with my buddy Jeff, sometime back that showed much more complexity and response to time in the bottle than these, without losing structure or fruit. Makes me wonder about the aging potential of these, but then I think back to the 98, which puled it off with grace. Just like conventional wisdom says:
"There are no great wines, only great bottles."

Charles Mingus Tribute at The Barnsdall Center

Last night we sat in on a panel discussion of Charles Mingus at the Barnsdall Art Center. It's a strange space, perched atop a lone hill in the middle of LA, the site of Frank Lloyd Wright's Hollyhock House. Commissioned in the early 1900's, it was later given to the city of Los Angeles to be an Art Center.


Charles Mingus is one of my all time favorite composers and musicians. He was an infamous and often misunderstood man, but a well respected genius. Here I am, talking to his son Eric Mingus, after the show. Eric (A talented musician in his own right) was asked what it was like to be compared to his father and what it was like to grow up in his shadow. Eric considered that for a moment, and answered quite humbly, that he didn't feel people necessarily often compared him to his father. He also said that what he enjoyed most, were stories people shared with him about how his father's music had influenced them. With that in mind, I approached Eric at the reception afterwards and told him a story I had-

My parents divorced when I was about 11 or so, back in the late 80's, and by the time I was about 12 or 13, I had formed some opinions of the whole situation, and for various reasons, had stopped speaking to my father. It wasn't until I was about 18, and due to some advice from my Godfather, decided to give the old man another chance, and at least meet up with him. That first day I began to speak to him again, one of the things we found in common was that we were both very interested in Charles Mingus, and in fact, were both very interested in the same album (Mysterious Blues). Mingus was not only the common ground for us that day, but a musician we both discussed, and listened to, quite often for the rest of our time together. Among the things I got from my father when he passed away (like an enormous collection of old 78 records), is a love of Jazz.

Although a true love of music can't come from anyplace but within, I learned a lot about Mingus from my dad, and, in some ways, a lot about my dad from Mingus.

(some other stuff I lifted straight off Wikipedia):

As respected as Mingus was for his musical talents, he was sometimes feared for his occasional violent onstage temper, which was at times directed at members of his band, and other times aimed at the audience. He was physically large, prone to obesity (especially in his later years), and was by all accounts often intimidating and frightening when expressing anger or displeasure.
When confronted with a nightclub audience talking and clinking ice in their glasses while he performed, Mingus stopped his band and loudly chastised the audience, stating "Isaac Stern doesn't have to put up with this shit."[13][not in citation given] He once played a prank on a similar group of nightclub chatterers by silencing his band for several seconds, allowing the loud audience members to be clearly heard, then continuing as the rest of the audience snickered at the oblivious "soloists".[citation needed]
On October 12, 1962, Mingus punched Jimmy Knepper in the mouth while the two men were working together at Mingus's apartment on a score for his upcoming concert at New York Town Hall and Knepper refused to take on more work. The blow from Mingus broke off a crowned tooth and its underlying stub.[15] According to Knepper, this ruined his embouchure and resulted in the permanent loss of the top octave of his range on the trombone - a significant handicap for any professional trombonist. This attack ended their working relationship and Knepper was unable to perform at the concert. Charged with assault, Mingus appeared in court in January, 1963 and was given a suspended sentence.[16]
Mingus was also evicted from his apartment at 5 Great Jones Street in New York City because he fired a gun through his wall into a neighbor's apartment.

The First 7th Annual Grilled Cheese Invitational

Whew! One hell of a day! Gavin, Dick, and I took the Metro down to sunny Chinatown, and then a giant park for what I think has definitely got to be the biggest turn out ever for this event. The categories are broken down into three parts,
The Missionary (White bread, Yellow cheese, and Butter),
The Kama Sutra (Get freaky with it),
and the Honey Pot (The sweet deserty ones)
What was really pretty interesting was just how far away from the original idea of a Grilled Cheese Sandwich many of the entries got.



Hard to tell in the picture, but this guy is wearing a t-shirt that says "Classy as Fuck"


Here's the all important Mayor of Cheese being interviewed.


After the event, we all went to Phillipes for French Dipped sandwiches, then Gavin and I hit a galleriy walk in C-Town. Here's my Objet of the night... A Cell phone connected to a mechanical Hummingbird. A number is penciled on the wall next to the phone. When you call the number, it makes the hummingbird flap it's wings. Double click on the photo for the number, but it won't do ya much good if ya can't see the H-Bird...

Stuyvesant High School Phys. Ed

In their famous "Fight for Your Right to Party" video, AdRock, of the Beastie Boys, is sporting a Stuyvesant High School Phys. Ed T-shirt. This comes into play, because my story is about the very same Stuyvesant High School gym class.
A friend just sent me a note on Facebook about her favorite story from our freshman year in 1990. So there we were in Gym class, wearing our stupid gym gear, doing the Presidential Physical Fitness tests that Reagan forced on all the public schools back in the 80's when the government decided all our American kids were turning into useless blobs, Remember those lame commercials of the kid standing in front of a video game that starts flashing about the program, the kid does a few crappy push-ups and then proclaims, "I'm a winner!" ? The best part is the old fossil of a coach that's supposed to inspire kids. Are you fucking kidding me?
Well, anyway, we were in the sit ups section of that, where it's dead silent in the gym while the teacher times 150 kids as their partner holds down their ankles, and they do as many sit-ups as they can in a minute. It's like 9:30 in the morning and my cheerios are still settling in, and now, I've gotta do as many abdominal crunches as I possibly can... I'm sure you can guess what comes next- I rip the grand master of all farts, reverberating off the white tile walls, and dampened only slightly by the horrified bodies of the other 150 or so 14 year olds in the gym with me. So I look at the scruntched up face of this poor kid, god, I have no idea who it even was, who has his head, literally, less than a foot away from my ass, and even though I know it means fessing up, my status as a gentleman prevents me from letting it slide, and I just look at the poor guy, laugh, and say, "Sorry..." so at this point, the whole gym breaks down in hysterics, I think even the gym teacher was crying she was laughing so hard, and nobody can continue, and we've gotta do the whole fucking thing all over again. Carla Melman, who prompted me to share this brief tale, loves to tell this story at every single reunion. And she always points out, if I'd just kept my damn fool mouth shut, nobody would've known it was me. But that's not the point, I tell her, I'm a man of honor. Clearly.

2007 Drouhin Burgundy Pre-Offering

2007 Clos Des Mouches. This was the first bottle popped in the US, just came over from France this morning. Drouhin just switched distributors and this is the new company's first run with them in LA. Out to West Hollywood to Ago (DeNiro's place on Melrose) for a pretty substantial line up, they really stepped up to the plate, pouring the Chablis Vaudesir, Puligny Montrachet Les Folatieres, Clos des Mouche Blanc (No Les Clos, Corton Chucky, Bat-Mont or Laguiche) Hey, I understand. And on the Red side, Gevrey Chambertin, some Beautiful P Cru Chambolle Musigny (My WOTN), and some Clos Vougeot. Pas mal. Even got a chance to meet Laurent Drouhin. He was very gracious. Sure wouldn't have minded getting a chance to taste the Vosne-Rominee and Def some Grands-Ech. but thems the breaks... See previous Drouhin tasting notes here


Broad sweeping statements about the wines and vintages: The 07's seem to be pretty good as near as I can tell, nice accessable fruit, good balance. To be honest, I simply don't have the experience to predict the future when it comes to Burgundy. There are people out there that can (or at least claim to) and I'm just not one of them, but anyhow, while no 05 or 02, think the 07's'll do quite nicely. My Winners: Chablis Vaudesir (GC) Okay, so I'm a sucker for Vaudesir, right next to the Grand Cru Les Clos, why pay more? The Puligny Les Folatieres was lovely, and so was the Clos des Mouches, but for the dough, my money's on the Vaudesir. Onto the Reds, the straight Vero is doing a pretty interesting job of a more modern style, and nice and inexpensive. My winner though, was the Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru. The Premier Cru of Les Amoureuses is right next to the Grands Cru Les Musigny. I know, I know, I'm a real estate whore, but hey, maybe I'm just about emerging neighborhoods.... The Clos Vougeot was delicious, but I'll take the Chambolle Musigny at half the price.

Squirrel Nut Zippers and Entourage

Getting our tickets with Paige, unimpressed and in mid eye-roll, as per usual.


When we got there, Jimbo was hanging outside, and Brandy, not knowing who he was, but just liking his hat, asked if she could take his picture.

The first two vids are the opening act, Fishtank Ensemble, the last Is Katherine Whalen the chanteuse and soul of SNZ.

Repost: Fuck you, I do what I want

A repost from my other blog: How Much Does My Mustache Suck. Click on the orange writing, stupid.

Wednesday Night Burgundy Meeting (part two)

Well, only one's a Burg, but it's a catchy title. Jay and I sat down over some 07 Curran Grenache Blanc (Kris Curran is the one that put Seasmoke on the map) and 06 Vincent "Vinny G" Girardin Bourgogne Blanc to make some crazy tasting notes ala 750ml and possibly start a new blog where people can chime in. Instead of any great tasting notes however, we just drank some great wine. Oh well.
Alright, alright, quick notes:
The 06 Vinny G was delicious. But in all truth, it made me feel like a cheater to like it, a hypocrite somehow, cause it almost wasn't really Burgundian, but more like a Cali chick in a coiture country dress rocking a beret. If I've got a Burg, I'm supposed to want a Burg, but I loved every moment of this seeming impostor, and "it's not what it looks like, darling, ok, it IS what it looks like. Is this the part where I'm supposed to say we didn't plan it, it just happened? Je ne regret rien.."
Kris' Grenache Blanc though was a completely different story, no guilt involved, it wasn't supposed to be anything else. Fun, easy, voluptuous, but some complexity. Wow, she really IS a grad student who pays her tuition in ones.

Reggie the Squirrel

Whatchu lookin' at, mofo?



Our neighbor Jay, has started feeding Reggie the squirrel. Reggie was raised from a baby by another neighbor, so he's especially friendly. He likes to come off the tree right next to the house and chill out on the balconey. I'd tried to get some video of him hanging with us in the video below, but a loud garbage truck came by and scared him off.


Further video of Reggie fucking with Oscar the cat to be found here.

Tasting, Tasting, Tasting

Another big tasting, this time hosted by Southern Wines. First was the barrel tasting downstairs, then the main event upstairs with table after table of wine. The 07 Domaine Alfred Pinot was rocking. No surprise really, it's always pretty good, and the 07's across the board are something special. But still, I think it took the prize for the Barrel Samples.


Brandy overlooking the sea of (way too small) glasses. I guess I'm jaded and spoiled and all that, but come on, Southern, you put together this huge tasting, in a giant LA hotel, and then you supply crappy glasses? Really?


While I'm on a roll here, casting judgements all over the place, who the hell decorated this place? I can excuse a lame painting as general hotel art, but you put the furniture directly in front of the painting? Like Blocking the painting? Why not just put the painting on the floor?

Ten Thousand Waves, One Ocean

I got a wonderful piece of mail today from a friend back on the East Coast. Dennis (the artist), is a buddy, and a mentor, from a Sangha I'll do the service of not associating with this sordid blog of mine, a monk, and a generally all around great guy. He was kind enough to do some calligraphy for me that I'd wanted for some time; it's the Japanese for: "Ten Thousand Waves, One Ocean". I'm certainly not the first person to come up with this equation, statement, or, poem, if you will; and frankly, it's just a mish-mash, or holus-bolus (my new phrase AND a great small batch Syrah I just tasted, check it out if you can find it) of a bunch of semi-comprehensible, entirely misunderstood (by me) East-Asian, quasi Buddhist concepts. The jist of it, and I'm not sure I'm quite ready to get down to the nitty-gritty of it, is: Many pieces, one whole.
Of course, it's much more than that, but I'm continuing to learn, repeatedly, that just because I think something is beautiful and profound, that doesn't qualify me as the proper town crier to expound upon it. I know, because I've tried. I suppose what's special about all of this, for me, is learning, (or experiencing, maybe?) that shutting the hell up about all those wonderful things I think I've picked up, and actually listening to others, and their understandings, has taught me a whole lot more than just trying to run my mouth about my "wave". Putting "wave" in quotes, by the way, is really helping me to hammer home to myself just how corny this one little bit I've gotten so excited about really is. But more to the point, it's helped me to see the beauty in all of the pieces, instead of just trying to own the whole. And that's the trick, isn't it? Nobody owns, we all just rent...


That's Dennis to the left. And George, and Peter, and Michel.

Excerpts from a great wine review..

So this guy Nilay, has a great blog I stumbled upon, called 750 ml. It's a rich array of poignant reviews and strange insight. Here he goes on A Viognier..

"It has the power and freshness that most viognier, including those from famed Condrieu, desperately lack. Viognier is a rich, forceful grape--one that has the texture of oaky, creamy chardonnay, without all that, well, oak and cream. And as a testament to that, this Stephenson study actually makes me feel more powerful. Probably just the booze talking, I know, but you really feel like you could break tables with your head after drinking this wine. I guess that's the point. This isn't a great review. It's a tough wine to write about because words aren't what it inspires. It makes you want to do something, anything, all the way."

I love this guy's reviews....
Oh and yeah, this picture of Justin and Ryan has absolutely nothing to do with this post, I just think it's a funny picture.

D.U.M.B.O.

Came across this movie poster awhile back. This right here is the cross of Water and Adams St. in DUMBO, Brooklyn, where I used to live in an old paper factory. That's the Manhattan Bridge coming into Brooklyn, and my old place in the back and to the left. It was a great spot, and an awesome loft, an all around pretty cool pad- But Damn, not that cool. I hate Hollywood for overglorifying a place and then you get there, and there's no smoking white Caddy surrounded by cool ass 80's rappers in gold rope chains. Damn you Hollywood, Damn you, I say.

Sunday Funday

Well, first of all, this chick's got WAY too much Hello Kitty action going on in her car, so let's just start there... I mean, mittens for the turn signal? That makes the kleenex dispensers look downright crucial. But I digress..



So it was Thai New Year, and this is how we throw down in LA, Hello Kitty Gear aside...


First, we got these guys, kicking some old school rock...


Then, some Thai Boxing..


Then the beauty pagent, which was quite lovely, but after a few hours in the Singha beer tent, all we noticed were the clear heels, which promptly led us to our next convenient stop...

Sunday Funday Extended adult version

Oh, the scene of the crime... How quickly we degrade ourselves from the cultural merriment of Thai New Year to the other classic attraction on Hollywood Blvd: Jumbo's Clown Room. Now, a brief word about said clown room: Jumbo's is not for the faint of heart, it's a classic, a staple; dare I say it, a legend. The ladies that dance at Jumbo's are not your typical fare, but a part of the institution that is Jumbo's. There's no slimy DJ bellowing out who's on stage next, but rather a dry erase board, slanted just so, upon the coffee machine. The ladies aren't forced to dance to whatever tripe some uninvolved, removed, so-called master of ceremony might choose, but rather, the girls themselves can saunter on up to the juke box with their own two bucks and pick their own song. Should the ladies desire a bag of doritos on their way to the stage, they can get that too, at a conveniently located vending machine, just two clicks of their clear heels away from the stage. It seems our friend Jumbo has thought of everything.


There are many different theories about picking up strippers. Some people will tell you in involves money, others will tell you drugs: but no, I say, and dare I share it, lest you all ruin the beauty of the simplicity, it's all about one thing: Board Games.
That's right, you heard me, board games. These girls have heard everything before, there's almost nothing you can ply them with. So you have to get creative. Board games. Get them back to the crib, play some Jenga, give them some Corona, and they get naked. I don't know why it works, but it just does...
Hoo-ray

Gallery Night: Kehinde Wiley At Roberts and Tilton, and then onto LACMA

This one is "Napolean leading the army over the Alps". It's the first of Wiley's works I ever encountered, back in '03 I think. Currently it's at the Brooklyn Museum. This I think is my favorite of his pieces. He likes to take classical paintngs and scuptures and reimagine them with young African American men in the images. His latest show was about Brazil, which was still interesting, but didn't quite capture my imagination as much as Napolean rocking Timberlands (Double click on the image to see details)


Here we are in the thick of the opening.. People seemed to have a very hard time keeping their eyes on the paintings. How LA.



I tried to adapt a sort of patrician air next to the painting, but Gavin kept making me laugh.


Late Night LACMA which was a bit of a bust because we'd just been there a few days before. The paper mache exhibit was exactly as lame as expected, but I could go back to the Broad wing to check out the Serra's over and over and over.


Gav in the midst of one of Serra's giants.

Pop Killer Waving Super Lucky Cat

A new store opened where the old Los Feliz Lock and Key used to be. Alas, this is the price of Gentrification. I don't mean to over bemoan the loss of the lock and key place, I mean, all they did was move around the corner, and now I can buy over priced t-shirts in yet another store on Vermont Ave. Net loss or gain? Not sure. They did have the good taste to fill their window with waving Super Lucky Cats, so I'm kinda thinking this one goes in the favor of those walking down the street in Los Feliz. Now if we could just get rid of those posers pushing Greenpeace in front of Skylight books, everything might work out just fine.