My old buddy Tommy Kubinek was appearing this past weekend at UC Berkeley as part of their Cal Performances series. Czechoslovakia-born Tomάš Kubίnek, “Certified Lunatic and Master of the Impossible,” was making his first Bay Area appearance after decades of selling out concert halls all across North America, Europe and Japan with his nouveau-Vaudevillian brand of clowning, acrobatics, magic and nightclub audience riffing.
A quarter-century, and four lives ago for me, Tommy and I used to cross paths performing occasionally on the same bill at comedy clubs in Toronto, and sundry one-nighter dates around Ontario, Canada. I hadn’t seen “Tommy the K” in over a decade, since a few of his dates in Washington state. He’d set aside a pair of ducats for me and Kath to check out his perf on the evening of Black Friday.
Kathy and I had already decided that we were going to eschew the post-Thanksgiving madness that is “On your mark, get set, SHOP!” Friday. And as entertaining as it may be to read about someone getting jacked in the Best Buy parking lot, relieved of their 95-inch big screen TV and four sets of 3-D glasses at 2 a.m.; or about some broad pepper-spraying, in front of her kids, those ahead of her in line for the $2 waffle iron, I have to wonder: What if the media just ignored the Black Friday phenomenon entirely? Better yet, what if Congress passed a bill mandating Thanksgiving as a holiday in, GASP! October. Canada does it, and Jack Lord knows, the U.S. could use a real October day off for the real people, not just guv employees.
Why shouldn’t a new generation of American children be just as puzzled as I was as a Canuck watching “Miracle on 34th Street,” in which Santa Claus appeared at the end of the Thanksgiving Day parade?
This just in: “Holiday Black Friday sales up 14% over last year; Door-buster fatalities up a mere 8%.”
So, our plan for this past Friday was to visit the city of Alameda, the scene of the crime almost a year ago, when we took BART to San Francisco, ate oysters, visited Rosenblum at the ferry dock, walked way too much to Hangar One, then had to hike back to the ferry dock for the return to SF and a BART/drive jaunt home.
This time, we ix-nayed the SF ferry ride for oysters (I can’t believe it either), and drove to the old decommissioned military base in Alameda, which provides perfect cavernous homes conducive to fermentation, distillation, cellaring, ageing and storage of small-lot wines and spirits.
Our first stop was old fave Rosenblum. Although we drove this time, we always appreciated, from our SF residence circa 1998 sans auto, that they were walking distance from the ferry dock. The Sunday San Francisco Chronicle featured a coupon for 2-fer reserve tastings, as well as 25% off all bottles. Kathy hooked us up with a CoCo quartet: Petite Sirah, Mourvèdre and Zinfandel from the Pato and Planchon vineyards in our Oakley ‘hood, as well as a “Heritage” bend featuring some old-vine stuff from our neck of the woods. Rosenblum sources fruit from all over the state; Kath shopped local on this Black Friday.
A short jaunt (via Lisa Marie this time, as opposed to hoofing it) got us to an anniversary visit to an oh-so-civilized Hangar One. Known for an abundance of super-premium distilled spirits, especially their crazily infused Vodkas (Kaffir lime, Buddha’s Hand) available at a theatre near you, parent St. George spirits never fails to surprise with yet another addition to the portfolio. On Black Friday, Vodka was not on the menu; their three new formulations of Gin were.
I am a Gin drinker. Kick it London Dry-style if y’all can. And don’t be afraid of the juniper: That’s what makes it Gin. Boodles with a twist: heaven.
That said, I approach Bombay Sapphire with trepidation. The label’s particular list of botanicals and respective sources would likely have Charles Darwin duking it out with Henry Kissinger: “Cubeb Berries” and “Indochina”?
Um, I’ll take regular Bombay, thanks. And I’ll actually request some Vermouth, and not from an atomizer, thank youse very much. Up, with a twist: that OK?
But I digress.
St. George has introduced three very different Gins, and the “Terroir” brand is outrageous. The laundry list of botanicals in the still is so local, that we could see Mount Tamalpais, the source of these ingredients, from the tasting room. Doug fir, fennel, bay leaves, sage and the ever-elusive juniper (Funny how the few folks who like Gin hate juniper): nice to see the commitment. And, if you check out Kath’s photo above, you’ll see part of the apparati that they need to make this fine elixir.
AREA 51: The copper contraption and a crate of apples. OK, we saw them, but no one in the tasting room could confirm or deny the next St George project. Mars Needs … Calvados? Hmmmmm, the thick plottens.
After our tasting, and purchases, at Hangar One, Kath and I made our first foray to the Rock Wall Wine Company tasting room. In addition to showcasing Shauna Rosenblum’s Rock Wall label, the co-op serves as an incubator/front-of-house for another half-dozen small producers whom might otherwise not be able to take the tasting stage.
We struck up a long conversation with our pourer, David, a burgeoning winemaker in his own right, with family connections to Oakley, of all places. The Rock Wall tasting experience was great, and we walked out the door with a trio of Shauna’s wines, the grapes for which were sourced from Oakley sites.
The Rock Wall 2009 Madruga Vineyard Zinfandel Dessert Wine belies its 16% alcohol with a translucent look and nose of bright cherry. There are more than mere hints of strawberry jam and dried fruits, with an invigorating brandy “burn” on the long finish.
Unlike Tomάš Kubίnek, whose stay was much too short.
Bravo, all.
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