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2016 was questionable, so here are 20 wines to pair with 2017

I ended a past blog post - themed: a review of 2015 - with the words "Welcome, 2016. I will cut you." Though I feel like I did personally make some substantial dents in this crunchy titanium can of a year, the general consensus seems to be that we created a blueprint for goodness, but then said blueprint was stolen, lit on fire, and then puréed with an unwashed beige-coloured towel embroidered with the words "~fUcK yOu~", styled in Comic Sans MS. I won't fill this post with hopes for 2017 so that I don't build myself a bigger bowl of disappointment, but instead will list wines that remind me of an upwards trend of hope, a vague connection to the vapid consolation of Pantone's Color of...

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My neck, my Bacchus

Most of the wine people I know got into its magical world after tasting some kind of superlative bottle that made them orgasm right into the industry. Like, we get it: you had a teaspoon of 1982 Bordeaux and wept. I literally had canned cranberry sauce with a corner store sandwich just a few weeks ago that was so good that it made me re-evaluate my life, so I guess I understand you. As much as I say that Marechal Foch is better as a drag name than it is a wine grape, and that most Canadian Cabernet Sauvignon is best used to remove dead skin off the soles of your feet, I absolutely live for the weird unorthodox shit. After waking up at...

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Josh tastes 118 wines at Top Drop

If there was one unforgettable takeaway uttered by a wine god during this year's Wine Bloggers Conference, it was the keynote speaker Karen MacNeil (author of the Wine Bible) who opined - and I'm paraphrasing, here - that people should pay more attention to tasting the wines during such events. Of course, I was thrilled, because that gave me even more validation to ignore people. Ha! Key advice when the militant goal is to taste every wine during a well-curated tasting, but it's harder than it sounds because I guess I like to wave and flail at people. A regretful ode to the few tables I did not get to visit: Anthonij Rupert, Badia a Coltibuono, Elio Altare, Giusti, Latta, Montenidoli, Orofino, Scribe, Spottswoode Estate,...

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Josh tastes 41 New York wines

I can be a combination of thrifty and stubborn. If I'm spending money to fly to New York for the Wine Bloggers Conference, there's no way I'm going to waste a single sober second not writing down a tasting note. I'm getting my money's worth, y'all. Militantly shoving my head in between suits and dresses has trained me for these moments (I wonder if I was born easily?), and I planned to taste every wine in the damn room during the opening reception. Which I did, I think. Followed by cocktails, because why not gloss over my dying mouth with vodka? I obviously tasted fewer wines than that time I tasted 173 BC wines in a row, but the BC torture session was in a brightly-lit room...

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Wine tastings on buses and Villa Bellangelo

Was my current alarm set to that one Vampire Weekend song on which I clicked snooze too many times? The answer is maybe. Anyways, I'm told I have like half an hour before we leave for breakfast. It's finally the day that the pre-excursion for the Wine Bloggers Conference 2015 starts - so Christine, Amy, Leeann, Sujinder and I pack up, eat breakfast at a place (i.e. delicious instant-regret-omelettes), and drive back to Elmira where some of us enjoy Gin and Tonics at the airport to revitalize our brains. Some fellow bloggers began arriving: some remember that we met last year, where I was plagued by lots of self-doubt more than the capacity to retain faces and names (ugh what a great start), and we...

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Finger Lakes: first spits and fire pits

More wine in this post, I promise! For some reason I was not tired after The Night Of No Sleep. My body knew. On a rainy morning dodging puddles and people, Christine, Amy, Leeanne, Sujinder and I bussed up to Elmira from NYC. This of course involved a cryptic and boisterous man who sat behind our group and modified the intensity of his New York accent depending on who he was talking to on the phone, including Joey, which included a mild conversation about picking up sodas at the dollar store; and then Beryl, to whom he aggressively told to check her mailbox and to "not worry about it" (severed hand?!). Obviously the world knew our NYC experience wasn't over yet, and we've accomplished...

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#WBC15 Tinder Wine Session #1

i.e. Live Wine Blogging but I like my name better. https://twitter.com/joshlikeswine/status/632265176977424388 Somehow, Mykha'el and I got an entire table to ourselves, but we owned that shit. Every representative that came to our table sighed with relief and took a chill seat next to one of us; they relaxed and poured us their wine and talked about it for five minutes until they heard the dreaded ding, indicating that they had to move on to the next table, for a total of 10 times. We were told that this year would be different, and every wine we would have in both this session and the next would consist solely of wines from New York. It was so seemingly perfect as we ended with an ice wine. Standing Stone 2013 Gewürztraminer (Finger Lakes, New York)...

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Rock out with your Hawk out

March 23, 2015 (Because, like, Alsace and rocks. And Hawksworth.) Alsace as a person: some sort of plainly elegant freshly-shaven man - or a woman clad in some sort of colour-blocked dress - maybe something in-between? Possibly something cleanly cut yet bright that evokes images of Twiggy from the 60s, and maybe something equally as razor-sharp like a Polo and slicked-back hair with nary a thread out of place. Or like a United Colors of Benetton advertisement that shows five outfits that would all look disproportionately gross on me. (Truthfully, I'm an American Apparel medium and a Gap extra small, but I'm pretty sure my thighs set off fire alarms.) No oak, no malolactic, all vivid. The brightness is no argument, because Alsace is literally the...

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