Wednesday, May 12th, 2010
Barbados, Rioja, Rum Punch
Listen to Jonny Cigar read his own post!
Jonny Cigar's vacation home in Barbados
Every year it is important to explore other regions of wine cultivation and practice, which is why I went to Barbados.
- Number of wineries in Barbados: 0
- Variety of grape grown in Barbados: Bananas
- Favorite summer wine in Barbados: Rum Punch
- Miss Thompson (Taxi Driver) quote: “Get your camera out because we’re going to drive off a cliff!”
- Number of vines growing on said cliff: 0 (it was all sugar cane apparently)
That being said, it’s important to point out that President Obama and his first Lady Michele are held in high regard, clearly demonstrated by the juxtaposition of their portrait with the country’s (practically only) beer of choice: “Banks” and aging bottles of Sutter Home White Zin. Please see below:
Banks, Sutter, President
Would you believe that Pineapples were growing in the great outdoors there!? Wholefoods is going to be terribly frightened and confused when they find out that fruits and vegetables don’t grow in supermarkets, but rather in the jungle of Barbados:
Pineapple in the outdoors!
While wine was not the easiest to come by, it did come by and it looked often like this:
Red, Rose & Blush?
At a fat and ample resort called the Tamarind Cove (I went for lunch, as my modest house was just down the beach), they were intent on serving me Devil wine and Rothschild at $11 BBD a glass, which would have the Baron turning over in his grave, or at least my cases of Lafite-Rothschild and the like turning over in their cellar not a football field away. I asked the waitress what exactly a “Blush” wine was and she asked to see my “day pass” and then wanted to know if I would be interested in bottled or “our” water. Of course I chose their water, braving the inevitable ruin of my digestive track. Turns out the water was fine and refreshing, however the wine, well… it’s like that old saying: What goes down must come up.
Rioja is not too far from Barbados, I imagine. And in honor of our upcoming Noble Rot affair exploring Rioja I dedicated myself to finding a good one on the island. Australian’s however seem to have cornered the market and every supermarket with their bulk offerings and I had a terrible time finding any good wine. I asked Miss Thompson our taxi driver who told me to “get out my camera because we’re about to drive off a cliff.” She was right, we nearly did. At a secluded private residence on the East Coast I asked the groundskeeper, Sea-Cat, if he knew where I could get any good Rioja. He removed a machete from his pants pocket and being a man of few words, made at me, or so it seemed, as he was actually about to slice the head off a fresh green coconut. He then slashed a hole in the top, stuck in a straw, and handed the thing to the lovely lady hanging on my every word. She sipped, as Sea-Cat demanded, and it’s cool juice delighted her. What kind of Rioja was that I wondered? It didn’t look like Rioja. Didn’t even look like Tempranillo. And who would age Tempranillo in coconut? Not a very talented winemaker I thought. Never the more, we were pleased with Sea-Cat’s show of affection and offered to buy him dinner. He flat out refused our offer and began muttering to himself as I took in the scenery imagining how to transform the pristine Eastern Barbadian Coast into a Las Vegas strip mall.
Tempranillo in a cococnut?
Can you picture it: you, on your beachfront terrace on the 134th floor, sipping a mojito, admiring the ocean and it’s opulent breeze. You can’t do that from no 134th floor now, but if I have my way…Las Vegas can get a life…
Strip Mall?
Wine Shorts. Vol I. Number I. Spring 2010. (Continued…)
Shortly after my trip to the Cote D’Or, I decided to run for the Presidency in France. I crowned myself the Barron De Cigarschild and held fast to my family history and motto: “Where there’s a loop hole, take it.” Soon, the war was upon us and I led the resistance against the Nazi Occupation. My theory was that if drank all the wine the Germans would never think to look for it it our stomachs. Sure, we could have buried it in our potato fields, hit in hidden passages deep within our caves, put it in water tanks, on and on, but … in our stomachs, I knew, would be the last place anyone would look for it. What I hadn’t thought of was how to get the wine back. This confused the entire resistance for a good 4 days. Eventually we decided play three solid weeks of Boce and hope for the best. Yes, the history of wine is dark and tannic, it’s full of contradiction and light on the lees. But one things is for sure: The only question remains, To Cork or Not to Cork. Pop.
Tags: Barbados, Rioja, Rum Punch, To Cork or not to Cork
