Category Archives: red

On wine

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Wine is a controversial beverage. Wherever you go, someone has an opinion, pro or con, about wine because it contains alcohol, and alcohol, for good or bad, has been the source of much pleasure and much pain throughout history. The secret to enjoying wine is to know how much to drink and when to stop, and never, I mean never, drink wine on an empty stomach. It will hit your blood like a steam roller and you will be toast in no time at all. Wine is best enjoyed with friends over food. If you are mixing your box of wine with cola and sitting alone on a park bench while you enjoy your toxic coctail, you might want to re-examine both your life and your career objectives. Wine should probably not be mixed with anything, especially if it is worth drinking. Sangría, a Spanish wine cocktail, is best enjoyed very sparingly for reasons which I think are obvious. A decent bottle of wine, white or red, to be shared by several people over dinner, is a unifying drink that can turn an average dinner into a totally delightful evening, enhancing the dining experience, bringing people together, relaxing the diners, and complimenting the food, especially if both food and wine are choosen carefully. Wine is one of those drinks that can either make your dining experience wonderful, or, conversely, make your life miserable if you have too much. There are worse things in the world than a wine hangover, but I don’t want to list any of them here because they are all disagreeable and nasty. Drinking alcohol has to be a personal decision based a series of social, ethical, religious, and moral consideration, and I admire those who make a decision and stick by it–if you don’t drink, great, if you do, understand the implications and live with them, but don’t be a high and mighty fence-sitter who hypocritally points fingers but then drinks in private. By the way, drinking in private is a sign that you might be joining the guy on the park bench with the box wine and two litre bottle of cola. This note is neither a condemnation of drinking nor is it a recommendation of drinking, but it is a discussion of wine. Many of my friends drink wine, and I have been known to sip spoiled grape juice on occasion. For me, food and win go together like Laurel and Hardy, like spaguetti and meatballs, like the Fourth of July and parades. When eating a steak (not a vegetarian, either), a nice strong glass of some velvety red wine is the perfect beverage companion, not that you couldn’t drink a glass of milk with your steak. When eating some beautiful piece of fish smothered in a clam and shrimp sauce, you must have a nice, light, glass of white wine in order to ensure a good digestive process–drinking water might make your tummy hurt. I’m not saying that water isn’t always the perfect solution–I drink plenty of water (yes, I admit it, even though water is so strong!)–but sometimes it’s not the best solution (water is a compound, not a solution, unless you dissolve something in it, and it stops being just a compound), and if you are a teatotaller, more power to you, pass the water pitcher. So sometimes I drink wine, just like the guests at the wedding in Cana.

On wine

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Wine is a controversial beverage. Wherever you go, someone has an opinion, pro or con, about wine because it contains alcohol, and alcohol, for good or bad, has been the source of much pleasure and much pain throughout history. The secret to enjoying wine is to know how much to drink and when to stop, and never, I mean never, drink wine on an empty stomach. It will hit your blood like a steam roller and you will be toast in no time at all. Wine is best enjoyed with friends over food. If you are mixing your box of wine with cola and sitting alone on a park bench while you enjoy your toxic coctail, you might want to re-examine both your life and your career objectives. Wine should probably not be mixed with anything, especially if it is worth drinking. Sangría, a Spanish wine cocktail, is best enjoyed very sparingly for reasons which I think are obvious. A decent bottle of wine, white or red, to be shared by several people over dinner, is a unifying drink that can turn an average dinner into a totally delightful evening, enhancing the dining experience, bringing people together, relaxing the diners, and complimenting the food, especially if both food and wine are choosen carefully. Wine is one of those drinks that can either make your dining experience wonderful, or, conversely, make your life miserable if you have too much. There are worse things in the world than a wine hangover, but I don’t want to list any of them here because they are all disagreeable and nasty. Drinking alcohol has to be a personal decision based a series of social, ethical, religious, and moral consideration, and I admire those who make a decision and stick by it–if you don’t drink, great, if you do, understand the implications and live with them, but don’t be a high and mighty fence-sitter who hypocritally points fingers but then drinks in private. By the way, drinking in private is a sign that you might be joining the guy on the park bench with the box wine and two litre bottle of cola. This note is neither a condemnation of drinking nor is it a recommendation of drinking, but it is a discussion of wine. Many of my friends drink wine, and I have been known to sip spoiled grape juice on occasion. For me, food and win go together like Laurel and Hardy, like spaguetti and meatballs, like the Fourth of July and parades. When eating a steak (not a vegetarian, either), a nice strong glass of some velvety red wine is the perfect beverage companion, not that you couldn’t drink a glass of milk with your steak. When eating some beautiful piece of fish smothered in a clam and shrimp sauce, you must have a nice, light, glass of white wine in order to ensure a good digestive process–drinking water might make your tummy hurt. I’m not saying that water isn’t always the perfect solution–I drink plenty of water (yes, I admit it, even though water is so strong!)–but sometimes it’s not the best solution (water is a compound, not a solution, unless you dissolve something in it, and it stops being just a compound), and if you are a teatotaller, more power to you, pass the water pitcher. So sometimes I drink wine, just like the guests at the wedding in Cana.

On wine

Posted on by

Wine is a controversial beverage. Wherever you go, someone has an opinion, pro or con, about wine because it contains alcohol, and alcohol, for good or bad, has been the source of much pleasure and much pain throughout history. The secret to enjoying wine is to know how much to drink and when to stop, and never, I mean never, drink wine on an empty stomach. It will hit your blood like a steam roller and you will be toast in no time at all. Wine is best enjoyed with friends over food. If you are mixing your box of wine with cola and sitting alone on a park bench while you enjoy your toxic coctail, you might want to re-examine both your life and your career objectives. Wine should probably not be mixed with anything, especially if it is worth drinking. Sangría, a Spanish wine cocktail, is best enjoyed very sparingly for reasons which I think are obvious. A decent bottle of wine, white or red, to be shared by several people over dinner, is a unifying drink that can turn an average dinner into a totally delightful evening, enhancing the dining experience, bringing people together, relaxing the diners, and complimenting the food, especially if both food and wine are choosen carefully. Wine is one of those drinks that can either make your dining experience wonderful, or, conversely, make your life miserable if you have too much. There are worse things in the world than a wine hangover, but I don’t want to list any of them here because they are all disagreeable and nasty. Drinking alcohol has to be a personal decision based a series of social, ethical, religious, and moral consideration, and I admire those who make a decision and stick by it–if you don’t drink, great, if you do, understand the implications and live with them, but don’t be a high and mighty fence-sitter who hypocritally points fingers but then drinks in private. By the way, drinking in private is a sign that you might be joining the guy on the park bench with the box wine and two litre bottle of cola. This note is neither a condemnation of drinking nor is it a recommendation of drinking, but it is a discussion of wine. Many of my friends drink wine, and I have been known to sip spoiled grape juice on occasion. For me, food and win go together like Laurel and Hardy, like spaguetti and meatballs, like the Fourth of July and parades. When eating a steak (not a vegetarian, either), a nice strong glass of some velvety red wine is the perfect beverage companion, not that you couldn’t drink a glass of milk with your steak. When eating some beautiful piece of fish smothered in a clam and shrimp sauce, you must have a nice, light, glass of white wine in order to ensure a good digestive process–drinking water might make your tummy hurt. I’m not saying that water isn’t always the perfect solution–I drink plenty of water (yes, I admit it, even though water is so strong!)–but sometimes it’s not the best solution (water is a compound, not a solution, unless you dissolve something in it, and it stops being just a compound), and if you are a teatotaller, more power to you, pass the water pitcher. So sometimes I drink wine, just like the guests at the wedding in Cana.

On Shylock and the Merchant of Venice

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Shakespeare’s strange creature, a moneylender from his “The Merchant of Venice” is a man driven by justice in a world that treats him unjustly. As a Jewish man living and working in a Christian community he is subject to strict laws regarding his physical movements, where he lives, who he does business with, and what business he can do. Nothing about how he is treated by the governing Christian authorities is just, fair, or unbiased. He must wear special clothing denoting his religious orientation so there can be no doubt by anyone who meets him that he is a Jew. Within the context of the play, the Christian moneylenders cannot and do not charge interest on loans they might make, but Shylock, being Jewish, is allowed to charge interest. He feels discriminated against because his Christian competitors can lend against him, cutting into his business. At one point, Bassanio, a young Venetian nobleman, asked Antonio for a loan. Antonio is having cash flow issues, so they turn to Shylock for the money, Bassanio borrows the money and Antonio guarantees the loan. In a curious turn of events, Shylock does not ask for interest, but if the loan is not paid on time, Shylock wants a pound of Antonio’s flesh. The play’s denouement occurs in a rather infamous courtroom scene presided over by a cross-dressing Portia who is acting as judge. Antonio has failed to repay the loan within the specified period, and Shylock is demanding justice. What Shylock does not understand, and what Portia understands only to well, is that justice is not meted out equally. There is justice for the Christian men who rule Venice, but women and Jews are forced to live with bias, bigotry, and injustice. As a woman, Portia is being forced to marry someone by her father, and as a woman, she has no say in the matter. The fact that she is cross-dressing in order to act within the trial pays tribute to the disenfranchised nature of all women within this society, their complete lack of agency and choice, and their inability to get justice from any of the established sources of power–the courts, the city council, or the Church. Shylock, though he keenly feels the bias and bigotry that informs his world, will insist on battling on this uneven playing field. Yet he fails to understand that his condition could be even worse because women have less rights than he has. An offer is made to Shylock to repay Bassanio’s loan, but since the details of the loan have not been fulfilled, Shylock wants his pound of Antonio’s flesh. In a very moving speech, the cross-dressing judge, Portia, urges Shylock to take the money and forget about justice, especially when Shylock insists on following the contract to the letter of the law, demanding, for once, that he be given justice and his contract demands a pound of flesh. Portia reminds Shylock that showing mercy and accepting the money would be a better solution than the one he is demanding. Shylock is immovable in his demand, but before Shylock can take his pound of flesh, Portia reminds him that if they are really going to stick to the letter of the law, then he, Shylock, cannot spill a drop of Antonio’s blood, which would be a violation of the contract which makes no mention of blood, just flesh. Shylock is foiled, Antonio is not hurt–all because one man, ignoring the good advice of someone who knows better, cannot understand the difference between mercy and justice and the fact that justice is not equal for all. The play speaks directly to the problem that justice is not meted out equally, that Lady Justice is not blind, and that all disadvantaged or marginal groups might hope for is a good solution, if not an equitable one. The play, then, is not hopeful when seen through a modern optic that deplores the obvious antisemitism marshaled by Antonio or the lack of agency which Portia must endure. One man is destroyed, another flourishes, justice is not observed, and the world turns.

On Shylock and the Merchant of Venice

Posted on by

Shakespeare’s strange creature, a moneylender from his “The Merchant of Venice” is a man driven by justice in a world that treats him unjustly. As a Jewish man living and working in a Christian community he is subject to strict laws regarding his physical movements, where he lives, who he does business with, and what business he can do. Nothing about how he is treated by the governing Christian authorities is just, fair, or unbiased. He must wear special clothing denoting his religious orientation so there can be no doubt by anyone who meets him that he is a Jew. Within the context of the play, the Christian moneylenders cannot and do not charge interest on loans they might make, but Shylock, being Jewish, is allowed to charge interest. He feels discriminated against because his Christian competitors can lend against him, cutting into his business. At one point, Bassanio, a young Venetian nobleman, asked Antonio for a loan. Antonio is having cash flow issues, so they turn to Shylock for the money, Bassanio borrows the money and Antonio guarantees the loan. In a curious turn of events, Shylock does not ask for interest, but if the loan is not paid on time, Shylock wants a pound of Antonio’s flesh. The play’s denouement occurs in a rather infamous courtroom scene presided over by a cross-dressing Portia who is acting as judge. Antonio has failed to repay the loan within the specified period, and Shylock is demanding justice. What Shylock does not understand, and what Portia understands only to well, is that justice is not meted out equally. There is justice for the Christian men who rule Venice, but women and Jews are forced to live with bias, bigotry, and injustice. As a woman, Portia is being forced to marry someone by her father, and as a woman, she has no say in the matter. The fact that she is cross-dressing in order to act within the trial pays tribute to the disenfranchised nature of all women within this society, their complete lack of agency and choice, and their inability to get justice from any of the established sources of power–the courts, the city council, or the Church. Shylock, though he keenly feels the bias and bigotry that informs his world, will insist on battling on this uneven playing field. Yet he fails to understand that his condition could be even worse because women have less rights than he has. An offer is made to Shylock to repay Bassanio’s loan, but since the details of the loan have not been fulfilled, Shylock wants his pound of Antonio’s flesh. In a very moving speech, the cross-dressing judge, Portia, urges Shylock to take the money and forget about justice, especially when Shylock insists on following the contract to the letter of the law, demanding, for once, that he be given justice and his contract demands a pound of flesh. Portia reminds Shylock that showing mercy and accepting the money would be a better solution than the one he is demanding. Shylock is immovable in his demand, but before Shylock can take his pound of flesh, Portia reminds him that if they are really going to stick to the letter of the law, then he, Shylock, cannot spill a drop of Antonio’s blood, which would be a violation of the contract which makes no mention of blood, just flesh. Shylock is foiled, Antonio is not hurt–all because one man, ignoring the good advice of someone who knows better, cannot understand the difference between mercy and justice and the fact that justice is not equal for all. The play speaks directly to the problem that justice is not meted out equally, that Lady Justice is not blind, and that all disadvantaged or marginal groups might hope for is a good solution, if not an equitable one. The play, then, is not hopeful when seen through a modern optic that deplores the obvious antisemitism marshaled by Antonio or the lack of agency which Portia must endure. One man is destroyed, another flourishes, justice is not observed, and the world turns.