Alligator, Exploding Fire Hydrants, Falling Moustaches, and Fire

Friday

(a solid start)

We have a few fix-it things going here at the condo, simultaneously.  Of course.  We received the last of our bids on our replacement windows.  Our current windows are mostly just symbolic, as opposed to functional.  Then, a gruff tatted-up war veteran fixed/replaced our balcony's sliding screen doors in a matter of minutes.  Finally, our chimney-sweeps(!) never showed up.  It's hard to get pissed off at a chimney-sweep.  I just couldn't wait to see his soot-covered face and hear his delightful cockney accent!

We also had a nice Shabbat here.  Candles, wine, challah.  The Albertsons across the street makes GREAT challah.  Like most Jews, I've had terrible challah for most of my life.  And now the scruffy Albertsons across the way makes good stuff.  Also, for those concerned about my health and finances, you mus'nt worry; their liquor selection is the worst I've ever seen.  So, I'll just be forced to walk a total of two blocks to get to three separate liquor stores.

Saturday
(speaking of liquor...)

I went on a whisky cruise, documented in this recent post.  It was grand, luxuriating on a boat, appreciating five different Bowmores.  Of course, that was in the afternoon.

There was an '80s party in the evening, for which I had to remain steadfastly conscious enough to be the designated driver.  After hours of whisky, it's difficult to stay upright, on one's feet until 1am.  Constant hydration was involved.  As was this:

Fake moustache fail!  But the chest hair never fails.  Here's another picture before the 'stache fell off:

May I add, that's not boogers on the 'stache.  That the reflection of the light off the shiny dead muskrat on my face.  There was a gleam on that thing.  I was one gold Star of David necklace away from being a record producer.

Here's Kristen working the theme much better.

Oh, the '80s.  Will they never ever ever leave?

Sunday

(a quiet day)

We spent time watching football with our friends, The Forresters, in beautiful Palos Verdes.  We were twice warned of the wild peacocks wandering the roads.  No wild peacocks this time, which was a good thing because my car would have flattened them as we marveled at all of the mansions.

At home I cooked up a solid chili, since the temperature dropped into the 30s.  Yes, this happens in Southern California sometimes...

Monday

(you know, like any other Monday)

The chimney-sweeps did show up, a half hour early, when I was inappropriately attired and shaving.  And they weren't Cockney.  They were Gustavo and Caesar.  And now we have a working fireplace.

At Trader Joes, I witnessed a middle-aged woman LOSING HER SH*T to the customer service staff that the bittersweet chocolate was bitter and not sweet.  No, she didn't want milk chocolate.  She wanted sweet bittersweet chocolate, goddamn it you terrible people.  And she demanded to try all of their other chocolate to find the right kind.  Customer service said no.  The woman was disappointed in them as human beings.

Then as I shopped for toothbrushes, I received a call from someone (who will go unnamed) who was ecstatic about an Electronic Toothbrush that he/she was buying me for Hanukkah!  It was difficult to know how to respond to that.  Especially when one gets to the cashier with over $100 worth of food and no wallet.  That was an hour lost.  Only one way to make up for that.

FIRE.  I'm a pyro, and the way things were shaping up, Kristen nominated herself to ignite the flame.  Good call.  Then football.

I poured some whisky to celebrate the anniversary of Prohibition's repeal and started up some turkey burgers.  All was well and calm.

Then outside the window, the sound of brakes squealing.  Then that unmistakable sound of WHUMP...WHUMP.

I ran to the window with that weird dread/excitement of seeing a multi-car wreck.  But there was only two cars in this crash because one of them BLASTED A FIRE HYDRANT SEVERAL YARDS OFF OF ITS CONCRETE BASE.  Which sent a FIVE-STORY EXPLOSIVE WATER PLUME firing into the air, sending pressurized kiloliters of water bursting into the sky.

For almost 30 minutes.  Blocks of streets were flooded within seconds.  At least two intersections were turned into moats.  The fire department could access the off switch because the crushed car was covering it.  They couldn't tow the car because, well:

Getting to the car on foot was one problem.  Getting a tow truck across the deep river and pulling the crushed car from its entrenchment was another.  It was actually kind of horrific to watch the waste of so much water, but it was impossible to stop watching the violence of the burst which was actually audible as the plume escaped the ground.

Ultimately no one was hurt.  But if either of these drivers were texting while driving, I will hurt them myself.

Tuesday

(the usual)

Upon exiting Hot's Kitchen in Hermosa Beach, where we'd gone for a friend's birthday dinner, Kristen and I saw Russell Brand hanging around outside the next doorway.  We had a simultaneous, "Whoa, that was Russell Brand."

At the next intersection we heard some self-appointed street toughs saying, "F*** Russell Brand. He can suck my d***."  And I wondered, how does that come up in conversation?

That almost made me forget for a moment that I'd just finished eating alligator tacos.  No, that's not some cute name for green tacos.  It was a quarter pound of alligator meat.  With cilantro, onion, and capers.  I give it ★★★.


May all of our Wednesdays be uneventful...

Welcome to our happy home, Part One!

Goodness knows the laundry list of mishaps within and without the walls of our condo grows every week.  But I'd like to focus on the positives right now.  Each corner of our condo has been gradually evolving from a mess into a home.  When things go sour, I forget that this transformation is happening.

For instance, our hallway.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Here's our dining room:

BEFORE:

AFTER:

And the living room:

BEFORE:

AFTER:

This is our place, evolving into a home.  Sometimes we need to step back and look at this.  It's not all wilderness and despair.  It's work, but towards good ends.

Also, please note the happy wife in the last photo.  She's mine.

Single Malt Report: Sailing with Bowmore

On Saturday, I sailed the Pacific with Bowmore.  Or rather, we cruised around the Marina (del Rey) while enjoying plentiful pours of Scotch.

We boarded at 1:45pm, departed at 2:15pm, and docked around 5:00pm.  The boat, Zumbrota, was originally built for Charles Ringling (of circus fame), was later owned by Mae West, then spent four years in the Navy.  (Insert here: Naval seamen and Mae West joke)

So anyway, Scotch.

Here's the heart of Bowmore's lineup.

They actually started us with a spin on the Old Fashioned.  To make an old school Old Fashioned, first you muddle sugar, water, and bitters with an orange peel.  Then you hit it with a shot or two of bourbon and (often) some ice.  They made us an Old Fashioned with Bowmore Legend and a considerable amount of Port.

Legend is their youngest, and lowest priced, US release.  It has no official age statement but is a blend of different years of malts.  By itself, it's pleasantly sweet and peaty.

In the drink, the peat and the port mixed nicely.  It tasted mostly of the vegetal peat, dry grapes, cough syrup, and was very bitters-forward.

We were then welcomed by the esteemed Johnnie Mundell, our Bowmore guide for the afternoon.  Johnnie is great, I've been to three of Scotch outings that he's led.  If there's an official Scotch outing for Glen Grant, Glenrothes, or Bowmore, chances are he'll be the ambassador.

Potential! Anticipation! Clean, empty glasses!

You can click here for my original report on the tastings for some of these bottlings.  I'll make note where my notes have changed.

Our tasting kicked into action with Bowmore 12 years old.

It may be due to the fresh air and the ocean, but it tasted brighter and grassier than it had before.  I tasted more wet peat than peat smoke this time.  It was a good pour so I had some time to puzzle over this.  It's a decent mild dram...

It gets an upgrade to 77.

Johnnie gave me the privilege of lighting a large peat nugget, while he showed off the new make spirit (see below).  This is the moonshine-level spirit distilled from the barley before it goes in the barrels.  As you can see from the label, it's almost 70% alcohol.

I did not drink this.

Next they brought out the 15 years old single malt, known as Bowmore Darkest.  It does a minimum of 12 years in bourbon casks, then three years in Oloroso sherry casks.  This long period in the sherry gives it its maple syrup hue.

It has a nice balance of brown sugar and peat fire when appreciated neat.  Maybe some molasses and sherry in the background.  I put some water in it, lowering the ABV to the 32-34% range.  Curiously, the water brought out the smoke notes on the nose and it felt a little drier on the palate.  It finished strong with a lot of creamy sherry.

A bunch of us got into a discussion about flavor preference.  Some folks really prefer the sherry-finished whiskies.  I like them a bit, but my palate seems to be developing a bourbon-finish predilection.  Again this is personal preference, but the sherry seems to work best in combination with a peaty Islay and/or a powerful cask strength.  Makes for a multi-dimensional experience.

The Bowmore Darkest keeps my original 80 rating.

With the tasting rounds, servers brought around some eats: Ahi Sushi in sesame cones, artichoke hearts with lemon aioli, and chicken satay with peanut sauce.  These were all quite good, but their strong flavors could potentially throw off my tasting experience.  So I hit the veggie bar for cucumbers, cauliflower, and pita to keep my palate clear.

Ah, the 18 year.

There's an adjective popular around the British Isles that we never hear in the States.  Moreish.  It means, causing a desire for more.  This 18 year's palate was quite moreish.  It was like the 12 year, but more moreish.  In color it's lighter than the 15 year because it doesn't do all that time in the sherry cask. I likey.  Why?

It smells of cupcakes.  Frosting and cake.  Its palate is full of dried fruits, especially cherries and berries.  The finish was intense, curling light treacle around the senses.

How do I rate this?  It's not a cheap bottle of whisky.  It'll set you back about $100.  Considering that Macallan 18yr is running $130-$150 -- and I'm sure I'll get knived in a dark alley for saying this -- but the Bowmore of similar age is a better dollar-for-whisky deal.  But if Bowmore were to raise the price to $130, I don't know if I'd keep the same stance.  They're very different whiskies:  Speyside vs Islay, Sherry vs Bourbon.  So, I'll give Bowmore 18yr a 84.

---

Now let's pause for a breath of fresh air:

The boat

The wharf

Sea lions swam with the boat for the entire trip.  FACT: It's because of the whisky.

---

Now back to our regularly scheduled whisky.

Time for the capper:

The empty bottle.

Yes. I was excited about this.  A 25 years old Islay.  They kept this one hidden from view until the very end.  I made sure I was sobered up when this came along.

DISCLAIMER:  In case Johnnie or anyone else connected to Bowmore looks at the picture below and wonders if the image in front represents four separate 25-year pours consolidated into one glass, all I can say is...

You are imagining things.

I'm never getting invited back, am I?

But I'm going to trumpet this one anyway.  It's like every fruit in existence.  But most intensely, it tastes of fresh cherries just picked from the tree in late May.  The finish is a little nutty, a little dark chocolate, and wonderfully smooth.  It earns its 91 rating.  The burden of this age and quality is the price tag.  If you can find it for under $350, count yourself lucky.

As the sun sets on the whisky, the sun sets on the water.

This was a great experience.  Everyone on board was in good spirits (sorry, having a great time?).  The presentation was fun, the food was good, the price was right, and the whisky worked.  I can't wait until the next one!

George Herman Hitchcock project, Chapter 5A: Sabotage

Introduction
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2A  and  2B
Chapter 3A  and  3B
Chapter 4A  and  4B


HITCHCOCK
(1936-1938)

With the great financial and creative successes of The Man Who Knew Too Much and The 39 Steps, Hitchcock remained free to choose his projects.  With this freedom came a clear level of confidence.  Even though only one film stood between Number 17 and The Man Who Knew Too Much, there's a complete reversal in the sense of comfort in the storytelling.  The dialogue and characterization are lean and always feed into the story.  The visual pyrotechnics now only appear in order to further the scene or film.  And there are full consistent themes that are addressed throughout each movie, in almost every sequence.  With The 39 Steps and the films that followed, this maturity continued to grow.

It's a pleasure to watch this growth happen.  Many of his earlier films (especially the theatrical adaptations) are a chore to watch, especially when there's no hint of Hitchcock (or any competent director) involved in the production.  Now it's getting interesting watching him grow up.

He was my age during the Number 17-and-Waltzes of Vienna period, the deepest of his creative struggles.  So it's reassuring to watch the success that followed immediately after.

With that success came films that are so competently made that craft and style discussions seem to burst from them.  Let's try a couple.

---

Secret Agent (1936)

Adapted from two of M. Somerset Maugham's short stories, Secret Agent has a great cast of John Gielgud, Peter Lorre, Madeleine Carroll, and Robert Young.  As the script was being developed, tensions were rising throughout Europe over Germany's agression.  The filmmakers seize this atmosphere and set the action during World War I in the midst of actual battle.

Keeeesss me. Yes?  (Source)

The story is about three British secret agents who are sent to Switzerland to find and kill a German secret agent before he crosses over to enemy territory.  They kill a man who turns out to be innocent, then have to chase the real agent into Bulgaria to assassinate him.

Technically, the film is solidly made on all levels.  There's a great theme running throughout about how the noise of conflict prevents successful communication.  Besides this metaphorically happening between characters throughout the script, Hitchcock activates it cinematically via multiple sequences where loud harsh mechanical noises keep people from hearing pivotal information.  The camera work and editing combine to create many scenes of great suspense, including a massive police-and-spy chase through a Swiss Chocolate factory!

This issue I have with the film has to do with plausibility and how it affects the tone, characters, and overall story.

First, here's Hitchcock's (AH) spectacular defense in his conversation with Francois Truffaut (FT):

AH:  I'm not concerned with plausibility; that's the easiest part of it, so why bother? (...)
FT:  Not to mention the waste of time for the public!
AH:  Aside from the waste of time, they make for gaps or flaws in the picture.  Let's be logical.  If you're going to analyze everything in terms of plausibility or credibility, then no fiction script can stand up to that approach, and you wind up doing a documentary. (...)  To insist that a storyteller stick to the facts is just as ridiculous as to demand of a representative painter that he show objects accurately.  (...)  There's quite a difference, you see, between the creation of a film and the making of a documentary.  In the documentary the basic material has been created by God, whereas in the fiction film, the director is the god; he must create life. And in the process of that creation, there are lots of feelings, forms of expression, and viewpoints that have to be juxtaposed. We should have total freedom to do as we like, just so long as it's not dull. (...)
FT:  (...) Incidentally, one play on words I rather like is your own saying: "Some films are slices of life. Mine are slices of cake."
AH:  I don't want to film a "slice of life" because people can get that at home, in the street, or even in front of the movie theater.  They don't have to pay money to see a slice of life.  (...)  Making a film means, first of all, to tell a story.  That story can be an improbable one, but it should never be banal.  It must be dramatic and human.  What is drama, after all, but life with the dull bits cut out.(Truffaut 99-103)

These are great guidelines for all storytellers.  I agree with everything said.

But.

There's a limit to allowed implausibility when it effects the entire story.  For instance, Secret Agent.  Here are the three "secret agents" that the British military send to assassinate a German spy:

1.  A writer who, though he had previously served in the military, appears to have never killed anyone before this assignment.
2.  A woman who seems to be doing this on a lark and clearly is unable to handle any level of espionage.  She freaks out at the first moment of danger and panics to the point that she'd rather kill her allies than the bad guy.
3.  An imbalanced, infantile sociopath who is comically terrible at keeping his cover.

With these three knuckleheads assigned to kill an important German agent, it's no wonder that they keep bumbling the mission.  Thus the first half of the film has a goofy bubbly tone.  This sort of setup is for screwball comedies.  But once the events start to go wrong the film pivots abruptly to a tragic, melodramatic tone.

And this doesn't work.  Why?  Plausibility.  By assigning these incredibly unfit three people to do this job, the British military itself can be called into question.  It's blunderingly stupid.  It's parody.

Thus the story's inciting incident (sending these three dolts on the mission) makes no sense.  Without that inciting incident there's no story to tell.  So if that piece is flawed to its core, so will be the story that follows.

And now for something completely different.

---

Sabotage (1936)

It comes close to an abuse of cinematic power. -- Truffaut

And it's GREAT! -- Me

Psycho's shower sequence is often mentioned as the pivotal moment in cinema that altered audience expectation about who will live and die in a film.  I would like to take everyone back another 24 years to Sabotage.

The hub, the midpoint, the central scene to Sabotage is an extended, overwrought build up to one tasteless moment of exploitation.  And it is so good, that Hitchcock apologized for it for the rest of his career.

The first thing you need to know is that the film is a story focused on domestic terrorism.  A German(!) immigrant(!) is used as a pawn by a terrorist group to incite fear in Londoners.  He sabotages the power grid at the film's opening, but London winds up having a good old time in the dark.  So his shadowy bosses decide to have him deliver a bomb in the middle of a royal parade.

Yes, a ticking bomb.  Set to go off at 1:45.  But Scotland Yard is on his case, so he hands the packaged bomb to his 12-year-old brother-in-law -- a happy-go-lucky kid -- telling the innocent boy to drop off the package at a specific location before 1:30.

(Source)

But the boy keeps getting delayed on his way to the delivery point, all the while holding a bomb under his arm.  His delays become increasingly out of his control.  The nearby clocks pass 1:30...

He casually hops onto a city bus.  But it's not just any city bus.  There's a film-loving warm-hearted ticket taker.  A sweet old lady.  And a puppy!  A cute puppy who plays with the little boy as the clock passes 1:45.

And the bomb explodes, killing everyone on board.

The suspense is insane.  The overdone build up is so enjoyable that I started laughing.  I knew something ironic would happen to stop the bomb from blowing up.  Right?

No.  Hitch kills the innocent.  The boy, the nice old lady, the generous film buff.  The baby puppy!  All burned to death in the explosion.

Then Hitchcock cuts to the main characters laughing.  Wow.  The film is never the same after that.  It turns into a nervous kinetic meltdown:  A spectacular death scene done in silence.  Hitchcock's birds make their first appearance and they're everywhere.  A poignant Disney cartoon!  Guilt.  Grief.  Suicide.  I'm not even sure how this screened in the US.

(Source)

Sure, there are weaknesses in the film.  The acting is questionable (aside from the great Sylvia Sidney) which in turn weakens the love story.  The early pacing is sluggish.  And the ending is a direct ripoff from Blackmail (though that's not entirely a bad thing).

Yet the power in the second half of the film and the many layers woven within make up for all of that.  And ultimately, the bomb sequence is a use of cinematic power.  Not an abuse.  It's showing an act terrorism.  And by fully engaging the audience through the power of film, it does so effectively.

Up to this point in Hitch's career, this is his best film.  I mean, he's wielding the power of the cinematic gods now.  What will follow?

TO BE CONTINUED...


Sources:
Sinyard, Neil. The Films of Alfred Hitchcock. Multimedia Books Ltd., London. 1994.
Spoto, Donald. The Art Of Alfred Hitchcock. Anchor Books, New York. 1992.
Truffaut, Francois. Hitchcock. Simon & Schuster, Paris. 1984.

(authored by yours truly, who hasn't been closing)

Single Malt Report: Bowmore, on a boat and in a glass

I'm going to be drinking Bowmore on a yacht this Saturday via "Sail the Pacific with Bowmore".  It's fair to say that I'm reasonably stoked about this.  I encourage folks to snap up this deal while it's around.

Normally, I don't like paying for whisky tastings.  I resisted the annual Peatin' Meetin' due to the price tag, but in hindsight I wish I'd gone.  I'll be saving up for it next year.

When I saw the $150 price on the Sail the Pacific experience, I laughed aloud.  But then I saw the deal in the above link for $65 and bought it promptly.  A glass of Bowmore's 25 year at a bar would be over $80 alone.  Glasses of all five expressions would be at least $150.  Of course, I'm not anticipating full pours but I probably will never have another opportunity to try their 18yr and 25yr.

I'm a very big fan of Bowmore.  I've already reported on four of their whiskies.  I love their limited release Tempest and their 1994 Signatory (16yr) may be my favorite open bottle.

I will be reporting back about the booze cruise.  Until then, a new report on something that won't be on the cruise....

Bowmore 7 year old 2002 (Murray McDavid)

---

Before I begin this report, I must file the following DISCLAIMERs:

1.  Bowmore is one of my favorite distilleries.  (see: above booze cruise)  But this was not released by Bowmore, it was released by Murray McDavid.

2.  Murray McDavid is a well-regarded independent bottler.

3.  Master of Malt's Drinks by the Dram is the best way purchase whisky samples.  (I highly recommend it and will be reporting on this setup next month.)

Okay, reporting recommences......now.

---

Distillery: Bowmore
Bottler: Murray McDavid
Age: 7 years (2002-2009)
Matured: Bourbon
Finish: Premier Cru Bordeaux (Château Latour)
Limited Run: 1,700
Region: Islay
Alcohol by Volume: 46%

I was pleased as punch to see this dram arrive in my most recent purchase from Master of Malt.  I wanted to try a very young whisky -- there are no official bottling single malts for sale in the US with an age statement under eight years -- since they're known to be particularly wild and unsubtle.  And this whisky looked particularly curious, fully aged in bourbon barrels then finished in Bordeaux casks.

How exactly would this work out flavorwise?  Whisky, bourbon, and Bordeaux.  I like them all.  Though I like peanut butter, mayonnaise, and yellowtail sushi and I'm in no hurry to throw them in a blender and slurp that down.

It could be brilliant, but I was taking chances here.  That's why I bought a 30mL sample and not a 700mL bottle.  I took a sip of a separate great Bowmore to get the tastebuds into the right mode.  Then I broke out this 7 year old dram.  I let it breathe for ten minutes.

My wife and I were was watching What Not To Wear, but I left the room so that I could focus...

First I'll try it neat.  A unique color.  Think apple juice with some reds and browns mixed in.  Give it a sniff.  Wow, alcohol.  Maybe sweet wine.  Another sniff.  What is that?  Really, what is that smell?  Another sniff.  I know this.  It's...

Bourbon vomit.

And burnt plastic.  And more B.O. than peat.

Ooooookay.  Should I call poison control before I drink this?  Well, sometimes the nose and the palate don't match up.  So I'll give it a sip.

Texture?  Thick.  Palate?

Dear god.  It tastes like pimples.

Pimples and open wounds.  Rotten cream.  PVC plastic.  Flesh.  F**k, gah.  Mlech.  The finish is hot, bitter, ammonia.

F**k.  Some water on it please.  Let's reduce it to 35% ABV.  It's not clouding, but they say it's not chillfiltered.  I'll cautiously sniff.

There's the bordeaux at the front of the nose, better than before.  Very sugary.  But still musty.  Human musty.  Here goes a drink...

Worms.  This must be what worms taste like.  Worms f**king drowned in bourbon.

The cooler, drier finish switches to overripe tropical fruits.

I sit for a minute considering my wellbeing.  And I consider that Bowmore might want to take their name off of this bottling.  Murray McDavid used Bowmore distillate, but the spirit has been suffocated in bourbon, wine, and wood.

FYI, I lived 'till morning.  I'm starting to understand the great Serge Valentin's qualms with what he terms "wineskies".  I like the taste of whisky, that's why I buy whisky.  Special wood finishes can add complexity and incredible flavor, but sometimes things don't exactly congeal and the result is something that may no longer be whisky.

The distilleries like Glenmorangie, Macallan, and Bowmore experiment with these sorts of things in their labs.  They release what works and dump what doesn't (or sell it for blends).  The public doesn't get to taste the flubs in order to keep the brand in good shape.  It's possible that the independent bottlers don't have that luxury to dispatch with the ill-conceived experiments.

This was so wretched that I will hesitate from buying any of Murray McDavid's fancy finishes in the future.  I don't like pimples on my palate.

Price - Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Rating - 50

Just because

There are some days that I know are going to be challenging from the moment I wake up.  Today is undoubtedly one of them.  If you're having one of those days too, I wish you well.

In honor of difficult days, here's a video of a man playing a Beethoven piece on his piano for several old, handicapped, injured, and blind elephants in Thailand.  I'll let the video speak for itself.