Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Beertography, defined

Sometimes I am lucky and very clever.  It is rare, but it happens from time to time.  However, I knew that when I invented the term "beertography" in my mind a few months back that I wasn't original or clever. Certainly someone has thrown this term around before me.  I didn't really care because I'm not using this site to make money and ultimately, no one really reads this blog anyway (or is there anyone out there).  Turns out there is indeed already a blog dedicated to beertography (http://beertography.blogspot.com/).  Dammit.  Thought so.  To me, "beertography" was a way for us to document a year of our life, the places we've been and the things we've been through together.

<Note to self: be more clever>

You'll notice a large gap in my blogs a few months ago.  The Husband and I got tired of it.  Well, he's actually never enjoyed doing the blog (even though his entries are far more witty than mine) but at least gives me time to snap a photo before he slugs his beer.  And after a while, despite it being my idea, I got tired of blogging also.  It felt like a chore.  Sometimes, I just wanted to drink a crappy beer.  Or I just wanted to crack a deliciously rare beer and drink it without having to think about it or analyze it. 

But I kept taking pictures of my beers because I liked the idea of blogging.   

I like writing.  I'm not a great writer but I've always liked being able to put pen to paper (er....fingers to key?) and just spit out some thoughts to re-read a few years down the road and laugh about.  The same way I love the idea of a travel journal....but never keep one.  I have so many empty journals that I purchased with the intention of taking on trips and documenting things but then end up giving to our older daughter to draw in or use for whatever kind of crazy arts and crafts project she dreams up that day.

Tonight is exactly the situation that lead me to change the name of the blog to "Suburban Suds and Beertography" instead of "Suburban Suds and Brew Review" because I'm certainly not reviewing an earthshatteringly amazing or extremely rare beer. I'm drinking a can of Guinness.  Guinness in a Guinness glass (because we just so happen to have a few) in our kitchen on a water-proof kiddie placemat while sitting at the kitchen table organizing all our photos for backup (spending a fortune to recover all my photos since college once was enough for me -- lesson learned).  I'm drinking alone and watching the sunset out our kitchen window through the beautifully overgrown Palo Verde tree that &#$* up our pool once a year when it blooms and turns into a giant crazy yellow puff.  I'll really miss this tree if we do actually cut it down this fall.  I'm listening to my dog drink amazing amounts of water out of his bowl next to the trash can and end up with the hiccups. Awesome.  I'm wondering what kind of beer The Husband is enjoying in the Portland Airport tonight while on his way home from a business trip (answer: Rogue - Dead Guy Ale).  And I'm calm because I have nothing to do tonight but enjoy my beer, do a few situps and some stretching, sit in the rocking chair and listen to our daughter snore lightly from her crib for a few minutes before I give her a kiss and kick back and actually hear all the strange noises our house, and all the things I love living in it, make.  These are the noises you hear when you slow down and appreciate everything - and everyone - that you have in your life.  

Cheers.

Monday, July 16, 2012

Special occasion wine

In September 2009, Scott and I went to Australia.  We stayed in Sydney for a few days and then "hired" (i.e. rented) a car and drove south to Melbourne, via Wagga Wagga and numerous other small towns.

At the end of our first day driving, we were heading to Wagga Wagga to look for some food and a place to stay.  We passed a sign for the Borambola Winery (www.borambola.com), flipped a quick u-turn and turned into a beautiful farmstead.  No one was there so we turned around in the parking lot and began to leave.  I noticed a man walking out of the house towards us waving his arms and inviting us in.  So we parked and got out.  The man waving his arms was the owner of the winery.  He said they were closed but that dinner wasn't ready yet so he'd be more than happy to let us sample some of his wine (and chat our ears off).

Accoroding to their website, the farmstead dates back to the 1880s. It is located on a hill looking out over the rolling and extremely lush/green Snowy Mountain foothills and the plains of the Murrumbidgee in the other. The Borambola estate was originally built by George Macleay, son of Alexander Macleay, the then Colonial Secretary who built Elizabeth Bay House in Sydney. It was host to King Edward VIII when he visited Australia in 1920 (as Prince of Wales).

Borambola then passed through several hands and was finally purchased by F.W. Hughes who used the property to breed horses.  Among the horses bred at this site include Hiraji, the 1947 Melbourne Cup Winner.


The farmstead at sunset
In 1992 Borambola became the McMullen family home.  Encouraged by the success of their first vintage of Chardonnay, the family and winery moved on to stage two: red wines. In 1998, the vineyard was expanded as an additional 25 acres of Shiraz and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes were planted.


We learned from the owner man that this Borambola sells their "less than desirable" grapes to a wine producer known as Yellow Tail.  Hmmm.  Interesting.  We now both smile every time we see a bottle of Yellow Tail because we know the secret thanks to our last minute impulse detour.

Picnic tables in the tasting area overlooking the vineyard
As the sun began to set and the wonderful man's wife called him in for dinner, we carefully selected our favourite (Queen's English) one and purchased it as a wine we would save for a special occasion.

So after nearly 3 years in our booze cellar (i.e. coat closet), we decided that tonight was a special occasion.  Special enough to drink our sacred bottle of 2006 Hiraji's Spell Shiraz that we carefully carried home from our whirlwind 17 day trip to Australia for our first anniversary.  After reading through their website this morning to learn the history of the Borambola farmstead and winery, I learned that the 2006 Hiraji's Spell Shiraz is sold out and can never be made again.  That makes it taste even better.


The special occasion?  Not waiting for special occasions.