Holiday Madness

I think we've all cried at least once in the last couple of weeks. Sometimes from joy, but often from frustration and exhaustion. The breaking in period here has definitely taken its toll on each of us at one point or another. I say this as a statement of fact, not as a complaint. We're barely 10 weeks old and the growing pains have been ongoing and persistent. There's no question that we all want to "get it right" with each and every customer and put this store on the map.

One of the most difficult aspects to ignore right now is the busy-ness of our fellow friends in the business. Most of them have years on us but we compare, even if silently, whether we are standing up to what they're doing. I'll admit, I'm the worst. I won't even try to put it on Jeff or Donald. I make myself crazy with worry when we don't have a sensational day, especially now. I'm honest, however, so I can say this without embarrassment. I'm proud of my friends and their success even as I'm impatient for ours. I think I blogged about this before, but allowing things to unfold naturally is not one of my stronger traits. I'm more of the smash-it-through-the-smallest-opening-and-make-it-fit kinda girl.


In our location, which everyone seems to deem a "goldmine", we have a distinct traffic and shopping pattern. Unlike other stores located along the Post Road, we're at the Westport train station. This "goldmine" doesn't conform to any rules, and frankly, when called by that name, my reaction is to quickly cross myself and say 20 Hail Mary's. The store has a rhythm all its own, one I can't seem to alter. Yet. This is why when my other friends are "getting slammed" for Christmas, we're forced to bend to the cadence of what this location provides thus far. It may one day be a "goldmine" but for now it's firmly, and not so effortlessly, showing us what it's used to being: a commuter's store, and one that's history makes it almost curmudgeonly.


So, at the risk of sounding like Scrooge, let me clarify that I feel very blessed to have this opportunity. Jeff, Donald and I are working hard to turn around the prior damage and we feel confident this will happen. I believe this blog, in many ways, however, is more a metaphor for my life, as well as a lesson. You can't read this without discovering something about me, typically a struggle I'm having, and it's usually rooted in my past. Unlearning deeply ingrained behaviors is probably one of the hardest tasks to undertake. The rewards are tremendous but the grueling step-by-step process is like losing those last ten pounds. Arduous.


I wish everyone the happiest of holidays. Hug your family. Say I love you. Be kind to your fellow travelers.


Peace.

How We Met

Jeff and I have set a wedding date, May 22, 2011. I can't tell you what kind of anxiety this creates, as well as, anticipation and excitement. Marriage. Again for me. For the first time for him. For the last time for both of us, God willing. If the 15 months are any indication, I think we're going to be more than fine. 


My daughters are very excited. I think the idea of wearing a J. Crew bridesmaid's dress to their own mother's wedding fulfills a couple different fantasies. One, they're the Maids of Honor for me, and two, it's J.Crew Bridal. What can I say? Caitlin tells me this makes her happy on many levels. Personally, what would make me happy would be wearing jeans and a leather jacket but I'm pretty confident that won't fly. I can tell you with certainty, though, that my dress, should I wear one, will not be white. Anyone who knows me knows I wear only one color. Would that be too maudlin? Black on my wedding day? Sarah Jessica Parker wore black. I'd still be smiling, and probably bigger than ever. Black is slimming. White requires more make up and anyone who's seen me in my sister's wedding pictures knows that pale colors and tons of make up are not a good combo for me.


Since this is a blog about wine, for the most part, I thought I'd tell you how Jeff and I met. I was working for Bill Taibe at leFarm, helping the restaurant open and creating a wine list with the team. The restaurant is small and we were wearing all the hats initially. I was hostess, sommelier, busgirl, server, whatever there was to do. It was the most fun I've ever had in my life and the best job I've ever had, to date. Bill is an amazing boss and an even more talented chef. So, we were hopping to it nightly.


Jeff was working for a local distributor and one day he dropped by leFarm with another rep. They were trying to sell wines from Virginia. Since they didn't have an appointment I wasn't too interested in sitting down with them but two things made it happen. One, I recognized Jeff from Facebook, and two, the wines he was trying to sell were from Kluge Estate. I knew about the Kluge family so the idea that Patricia was making wine was intriguing. Jeff and I didn't really exchange much dialogue, and I don't remember the wines at all, but there was a little flutter in my belly and I knew something had just occurred between us.


Later on we both called our mutual friend, Darcy, to find out about each other. I had an instant crush, and evidently, so did Jeff. What ensued is straight out of the high school handbook of trying to be cool and feeling anything but. "What did he say about me?" "Is he interested?" It didn't take too long for Jeff to find excuses to come bring me samples, usually of beer, which interested me only slightly more than his wines, but he would appear. I was getting shit from my co-workers and I didn't care. Fate had played its hand and it was just a matter of time until we connected. And we did. And it was amazing. And it continues to be an incredibly growing relationship on every level. Jeff asked me to marry him in December of 2009 on a rainy night in Rhode Island. He got down on bended knee and tied a twisty-tie around my finger. Signed, sealed, delivered! I'm yours!


As we head into our first holiday season at Saugatuck Grain & Grape, we're very grateful. We've had an incredibly exciting (rhymes with stressful) year and we wish you and all your friends and family a happy, healthy new year.

Pinot Noir: Handle With Care

I worship at the altar of Pinot Noir. Everyone knows this about me. Of course, our relationship isn't that old. It's just very intense, in a Romeo and Juliet kind of way, without the death and suicide. Pinot Noir and I only became friends (again) in 2004, but since that time we've seen the friendship grow tremendously.

My father is a Burghound. When I was growing up he traveled to France every summer with his three best friends. He would come home with fabulous presents for all of us (bonus!) and a tremendous amount of wine. When I wasn't drinking beer, I was drinking my father's amazing Pinots: Romanee Conti, La Tache, Grands Echezeaux, Bonnes Mares, Gevrey Chambertin....etc. I remember how exciting it was to watch him uncork and decant the wine each night, and I especially enjoyed going into the cellar with him to pick out a bottle together. I was hooked from my early teens.

Starting in 1988 migraines sidetracked me for many years, forcing me to be a non-drinker, for the most part. If I did drink, it was Rolling Rock. Yes, I see all your eyes rolling. It is what it is! I can't help it. I love bad beer. Just ask Jeff.

Anyhow, once the passion for Pinot Noir was reawakened in 2004, I was back with a vengeance. My father was aghast! I'd been reborn as a California Pinot lover! I think the word he used to describe me was dilettante. California Pinot? Are you kidding me? I raised you on the finest Burgundies and you re-emerge as a New World Pinot drinker who likes too much oak, too much alcohol and a fruit bomb that explodes like an overripe berry in your face? I have failed as a father.....or something along those lines. I just giggled. In my mind it would become my mission to get him to like just ONE Pinot from Cali. I can happily say I've been successful in my efforts. It doesn't happen often, but it happens.

In the last 6 years my palate has obviously evolved. Yes, I'll admit, sometimes I'm a sucker for a big Pinot, like Sine Qua Non, Aubert, Paul Hobbs or Peter Michael. All great wines, all larger than life. However, more and more, I'm yearning and searching for subtlety. Lately, my passion has been for Arterberry Maresh. Jim Maresh, the wunderkind of Oregon, comes from a storied family. His grandfather planted Maresh Vineyards, his father made one of the highest rated Pinot Noirs in history. Jim's brash, and talks some shit, but the wines speak for themselves. At just 26 years old he has taken Oregon Pinot to a whole new level. He's managed to make an Old World style wine in the truest sense of the definition. I'm working on my father as we speak to buy a case of this incredible wine, so stay tuned.  :)

So, back to this love affair? Why do I love Pinot Noir? Is it the fickleness of the grape? Perhaps, because like any good relationship, when it's great it's great but when it's bad it's horrid. Like an unrequited love, I will chase and chase until I have it in my clutches. And yet, there it is, always just slightly out of my grasp, aloof in its cockiness, knowing that once it succumbs I'll be putty in its hands. No wonder no shrink has ever been able to help me. I live for the hunt and am seldom deterred by rejection. Good thing I'm talking about wine here. 

I also tend to be attracted to its delicateness. Pinot Noir grapes appear to be sturdy on the outside, yet are squooshy on the inside. It's a metaphor for how I describe myself, and as you know, this blog is secretly all about me, so there ya go. Anyhow, I delight in the fact that Pinot Noir grapes are, in fact, petulant, as well as, delightful. They bristle at being too wet and shrink from too much sun. They aren't interested in being ignored and require much tender loving care to give you their best. Like any woman, I loathe a rainstorm, it makes my hair frizz, and I will always welcome the sun on my face unless it burns me. All Jeff has to do is be gentle yet consistent and I'm putty in his hands.

Ultimately, this is a blog post about myself. Just call me Pinot Noir. Handle with care. 

This mission, should you choose to accept it.

Last night, I finally went to bed around 2 a.m. Sundays, for us, are not the ideal "day off". We wake up, clean the house, go to three or four markets to gather ingredients for Sunday dinner and the rest of the week, cook a fantastic meal and then crash. We try to talk about everything else, but the wine shop. It's the beginning of the holiday season for us. Reluctantly, the wine shop conversations squeak in somehow. Last night we talked a bit about my past career in this business.  


As much as I am an ambassador and an owner of this business, I am just as much a consumer as you are. I like to shop around. I like to go into other wine shops and restaurants and talk to the staff. Maybe they can shed some light on a subject about which I am still foggy? Perhaps they have found my new favorite wine or beer hiding under my nose this whole time? They might just teach me a cool little tidbit about the Scotch or Tequila I've been sipping on for years.  It's always great fun to get another perspective on a subject I hold so dear to my heart.  


My last blog post was to heighten the awareness of a certain goodness that is Corzo Anejo Tequila.  It got a great response and we sold a ton of it. Thank you! Initially, the idea of the post was to not "sell" the tequila, but to let you, the reader, know that tequila isn't just a "bad night in college" drink.  


I must admit, I had my fare share of "bad nights" with hard liquor.  You name the flavor, I've got a story to tell about it. It was only when I learned to sip the beverage and not shoot it, that I became amazed with the complexity of flavors that it offered.  


Everyday, I get summoned to the Scotch shelf or the Tequila Shrine or Bourbontown to talk about what intrigues me. What little goodie have I found this week? What Scotch is going to blow my mind - below $100 a bottle? What Tequila is the most terroir driven in your opinion? You have a half bottle of Bourbon for over $50. Why is it so expensive? It's good. They're all good; hard to find little goodies that Mimi and I have searched high and low to get for you. 


Sometimes, we whine about selling them because that means that we won't be able to drink them ourselves. On a rare occasion, the bottle on our shelf might be the last bottle in the state. Many of you look to me to figure out a way to find more of those hard to get items. I'm on it. I support the little guy. The little guy represents quality. The little guy puts his/her heart and soul into their product.  The little guy represents a piece in all of us.  When I decide to contact a supplier, I want to talk to the Winemaker, Chief Distiller, Master Brewer or even a Cellar Master.  I want answers to my questions. I want to hear it from the source. I want a reason to believe in the product we sell to you. I want to know why I need to drink this Don Julio 1942 Tequila over the next. I want to believe in every savory sip of Ron Zacapa 23 year Rum I drink. I want to dream of the rolling green hills of Scotland in every ounce of Glendronach 15 year Revival I swallow. I want to know why I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about Hirsch Single Barrel 28 year Bourbon and why it's not available anymore. Why is High West Whiskey not available in Connecticut yet? 


I need to make a few phone calls to people that can change things. It's clients like you to fuel store owners like me to make a difference in this state. Connecticut needs more artisanal brands. You fight for better nutrition in schools, right? You vote for the better representative in politics, right? You fight for better education for your children, right?  You fight for your own opinion to be heard, right? Well, I'm listening. The master distillers are listening too, if I make a big enough stink about it. 


I've worked in 7 liquor stores in this state, none of which gave two sh*ts about their customers. Actually, that's a lie. Mickey, at a neighborhood wine shop in Darien, taught me everything I need to know about customer service. I owe my life to him. Sidebar - If you want to really know, if it weren't for Mickey 18 years ago, I would've never gone down this path to meet my beautiful bride to be.  


This is a fun business.  Somehow, some way the fun was mistaken for a stiff, serious, snobby, stuffy and untouchable dynamic. Bullshit. Fun is fun. This is why we do tastings every single day.  It's the only way you, the consumer, will learn.  And, it's a great way to keep Mimi and I up-to-date and current with new releases.  


The next time you're in ask me about what Scotch, Bourbon or Tequila I've been stashing away. I might just pour you an ounce or two while you shop.




P.S.  This post is brought to you in part by Ardevol Anjoli Priorat & Corzo Reposado.


Pour. Taste. Drink. 

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday, I have to admit. So much cooking and cleaning and eating food that most of us don't enjoy any other time of year. It takes hours to prepare and minutes to consume. Hardly any time to be thankful, in my opinion. I've never really gotten it, nor gotten into it. Maybe the shrink down the block would like to take a whack at why I have such a reaction to this most benign of holidays, but suffice it to say, I'm not too down with the feast.

Mainly, it's about the turkey. I've never understood why we eat turkey only once a year. To be honest, I don't eat turkey any time of the year. This year, however, my family is coming from Florida, and they want turkey. The last time I cooked a turkey Frank Perdue was still alive and there was a pop up timer in the bird. That timer was genius. It convinced me that my turkey was moist and delicious, even if it was anything but. This year I chose an organic turkey, destined to be dry as a bone since it's missing that groovy little pop up device. I think dryness is part of the torture we suffer for effectively decimating an entire population for one gluttonous meal. The turkeys are on to us and in order to ensure maximum cardboard-like consistency they purposely run until the fat is rendered from their bodies . If ever there was a bird to bypass for flavor and moistness, the turkey is it.

Needless to say, a dry turkey goes well with wine. The reason is because in order to successfully build up enough moisture in your mouth, you have to have wine. Man does not produce enough saliva naturally to combat the parchedness of the turkey, so he created wine. Wine and a carbohydrate-heavy Thanksgiving go hand in hand. We need some wines with pretty decent acids to cut through the density of the rest of the meal. Maybe they'll even ward off the tryptophan coma that typically settles in about 30 minutes after your last bite. The selection so far includes 07 Prager Gruner Veltliner, 09 Robert Sinskey "Abraxas", 06 Merry Edwards Pinot Noir "Meredith Vineyard" and 04 Pahlmeyer Proprietary Red. This is subject to change, of course, but I'm pretty content with the choices so far. I plan to use my wine consumption to maximum effectiveness, thereby eliminating any chance the EMS will arrive because I'm choking to death.


Since I feel it would be inappropriate to post this, hopefully, funny blog post without some words of thanks, let me add them now. Lord knows I don't want you to think I'm always cantankerous and ungrateful. I'm very thankful for my family, especially Jeff and my girls. I'll miss having Victoria with us this year. Hopefully her host Mom will make her something yummy in Paris. I'm thankful that Saugatuck Grain & Grape has been well received. I'm grateful for all the people who frequent it daily. I'm thankful that I'm 48 and have a 35 year old fiance and not everyone growls at me when they hear about the age difference. I'm grateful to My Donald for completing my life, my SG&G family and for working so hard to learn this business. I'm thankful that we take nothing for granted, especially our health, and I will always be grateful to my parents for supporting me even when it may have been a challenge.


Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. Drink well and responsibly.


P.S. Say a prayer for all of our loved ones we'll be missing this year and a special shout out to my Dad as he begins his fight against the C monster.

To Kill Ya

For those of you who do not know, I'm a musician. My forte is guitar and singing. In my spare time, I write and record my own music in a humble studio that has been nicknamed "The Beat Factory".  About 12 years ago, I set out to write an homage to my life style. I entitled it, "Been a Long Day".  The opening line is, "Sommelier, bring my wine. It's been a long day with complete disregard of time." It has been my anthem, theme and signature track on every EP I have ever released. I have a few different versions of it. My latest version is my favorite. It creates a scene around someone sitting at their favorite relaxing venue, staring at that famous picture of Jim Morrison, topless, arms outstretched, with that animalistic and hungry look in his eyes. He's fearless, in juxtaposition to his fatigue. I have played this song at the end of my work day everyday for over a decade. It fuels me.  But now, the devil on my shoulder demands a rewrite. I've found a new "lyrical" passion, Tequila. 


My pulchritudinous fancy, Mimi, and I have painstakingly hand selected all of our products for our store. Pour. Taste. Drink. That is our motto and tag line. It's our lifestyle as well. It really should be "Pour. Taste. Drink. Learn.", because this is how we expand our knowledge and work in concert with each other and our customers. But three words are easier than four. Plus, The font size on our storefront sign would be really tiny.  


Anyway, back to my devilish new friend, Anejo.  He has a brother, Extra Anejo, and two cousins, Reposado and Blanco.  Blanco has two nicknames, Silver and Plata.  Tequila is not what it used to be.  It's a whole new ball game now.  Most may say they don't like Tequila.  I believe that may be true for a couple of different reasons.  Number one would be, "I hate Jose Cuervo." Number two would be, "It gets me into trouble". Ever been to Red Lulu's on a Saturday night? Just ask Jimmy.


How about some food for thought?  Jose Cuervo is the most generic, mass produced, love-lacking, laboratory-infused, lifeless, creme de la crap you can get. Unfortunately, this country is force fed this as the best stuff in the world via the media. Get off it.


Tequila, REAL Tequila, is terroir driven.  Its two distinct regions, highlands and lowlands, are apparent in every sip. Some of the Tequilas we have been sampling are as sexy, complex, delicate, aromatic and enticing as your favorite Scotch or Bourbon that you savour every night. The Jalisco highlands will ripen a much larger agave crop much quicker than the lowlands.  This will result in a much softer, fruity, aromatic and delicate tequila. The lowlands offer a much more concentrated agave. It's smaller. It ripens at a slower rate, resulting in a spicier, more earthy flavor profile. Each distillery ages each Anejo, Reposado and Blanco differently within the laws of each classification. Blancos, or Silvers, are allowed to age in oak up to 60 days. Reposados are allowed to age between 60 and 365 days in oak. Anejos are permitted to age longer than 365 days up to two years. Then it gets a bit more complicated with Extra Anejo.  


I'm not going to bore you with specifications. I want to entice you into the world of Tequila. I brought a line of Tequila into the store this week. Corzo Tequila.  As I write this, I'm sipping on a snifter Corzo Anejo. The nose is floral with a touch of cinnamon, allspice and agave nectar. On the palate, there is buttered toast, smoked spanish paprika, honey, caramel and aleppo pepper.  The finish is long, spicy and sexy with a touch of charred oak.  This is a premier specimen of the type of highland Tequila that we carry in the store.  It's 100% Blue Agave.  Not Jose Cuervo.  Not 51% some-sort-of-agave, 49% caramel color, cane spirits, added sugar and other miscellaneous crap and chemicals.


I honestly don't know how this new song will manifest itself. Tequila makes me happy and giddy. It warms my heart and soul. Jimmy would say that Tequila leaves us in a pile of laughter reminiscing about days gone by. As a songwriter that's antithetical to my craft. So, maybe my piano, Les Paul and my Marshall stack will continue to tell me what to play. They know best and balance my soul and music. That leaves Corzo Anejo to do the rest of the work, adding the spice to your life, the spring in your step, and the slack in your tie at day's end.


Pulchritudinous.  pul (rhymes with dull) - krit -TUDE - in - us. Look it up.


Pour. Taste. Drink. Tequila.

Sundays

Jeff and I have one day off a week. That would be Sunday. We made a pact that Sunday would be "our" day, not a store or business discussion day. In order to preserve some semblance of romance in our young relationship, there has to be a sacred day just for us. Ironically, it is the day of the Sabbath, hence the sacredness attached to it, but our meaning of sacred has to do with valuing our personal life together and being a couple. We vow not to talk shop the whole day and we return to what it felt like when we were just giddy and carefree. Raise your hand if you believe that we adults ever feel carefree? It was a good try though, wasn't it?

This past Sunday we had the added bonus of earning back an hour of time due to the end of Daylight Saving's Time. The morning began on a rather jarring note, however, when our neighbors, clearly not understanding that it was 8AM not 9AM, decided to play with their children in their backyard. The problem is, they really don't have a backyard. Their house is so close to us that when they sneeze inside their house we say Gesundheit inside ours. Little Rocky (his real name) and his older brother, Bullwinkle (an educated guess), have no idea how to use their "inside voices" which results in us feeling as if they're playing at the end of our bed. Since little children are annoying, and it was clear that we weren't going to savor our extra hour, we got up and cleaned the house. My feeling is you layer pain upon pain at that point. Jeff made it marginally better by cooking us some bacon to go along with our vacuuming. Bacon makes everything better, if just for a moment.

Since we hadn't had a home-cooked meal in a week, we headed to Balducci's to purchase something that has made every attempt to come from a living thing, be it vegetable or animal. I lamented to my friend, Ian, not too long ago, that nothing resembling a vegetable has passed through my lips in well over a month. The resulting disturbances to my delicate constitution are noteworthy, so needless to say, I was gung ho to include some roughage in our meal last night. We bought steaks, baking potatoes and squash. Yum. Then we headed home to cook together and finish sampling some of the wines we'd accumulated over the last 24 hours. (Mea culpa to our friend, Bill, at leFarm, who in no way reflects our lousy eating habits prior to 8PM most nights. I'm going to write a whole blog on his scallop crudo next time. Holy shit!)

Tasting wines outside the confines of the store is very different for Jeff and me. There's more of a dance associated with it, less of a perfunctory ritual. We get to prepare our food side by side, tease each other with banter and savor the flavors of our wines without urgency. We also talk. You'd think that we'd have nothing else to talk about after spending 24/7 together, but Sundays we talk. To each other. It's lovely. While we were grilling the steaks last night we started uncorking our leftover wines. We had a fun line up and it led to lots of discussion.

We started with '07 Tikal Malbec/Bonarda "Patriota." Ian tasted us on this wine Saturday afternoon. It is so damn delicious and at $19.99 a great value. It has a smoky, berry nose but lots of concentrated cherry/berry on the palate. Yum! Then we moved on to '07 Palacios/Remondo "La Vendimia" Rioja. It's $13.99, people, and it's fantastic! Fresh, fruit driven Tempranillo/Grenache from Alvaro Palacios, who's very easy on the eyes. Next we tried '09 Torbreck Shiraz "Cuvee Juveniles" from Barossa Valley. It's actually a Grenache/Shiraz/Mataro blend made from ancient vines. Torbreck is one of the preeminent names in Australian wine and this is a great example at $21.99. Lastly, we moved onto a Pinot Noir. You'd think the Pinot would've been one of the first we tried, but you haven't tried Morlet Family Vineyards wines then. I'll concede that we tasted it too early. I'll concede that a Vinturi aerator would've helped as well. However, I was dying to try this blockbuster wine so we opened it. The '08 Jolie Coeur from Sonoma is a beast. It just quivers with seduction. I know that several years from now this bottle will have aged a little and given up some of its raw animality, but last night it was fun trying to tame it into submission. We still have half that bottle to try again tonight.

After we ate and drank ourselves into a food coma we fell into bed with full bellies and a satisfied grin on our faces. I'm a girl who's struggled with her weight all her life and has a fiance who's as thin as he is dewy and fresh in the morning. You'd think I'd be bitter. Ha! Not this girl! Jeff doesn't know it but I've secretly replaced his toothpaste with lard. In no time he'll weigh considerably more than I do and we'll still be dancing in the kitchen on Sundays. Maybe then he'll be able to dip me without dropping me on my head.

A Taste Of What's To Come

My bookkeeper, Rachel gave me a challenge last week when she was doing the books. She told me we had to hit a certain number this week to really move things along. That number was twice what we've already been doing, but we didn't flinch. After all, isn't the point to grow the business? Uh, yeah! So, Jeff, Donald and I did our usual "rain dance" and got to work.


I don't know how to describe this phenomena, but I'll try. We've found that visualizing what we'd like to achieve seems to call those people to us who help us reach our goals. It's quite uncanny how words are not all we hear. We hear with our souls and we respond. We were discussing 3 bottles of '06 Domaine Bruno Clair Gevrey Chambertin Clos du Fonteny that we had on the shelves. At over $100 per bottle, they were a luxury, and we felt they needed a good home. So we focused our energy on psychically drawing that customer in the door. In the Friday crush that night this man walked in the door with his friend. Quietly, and without fanfare he grabbed the three bottles of Bruno Clair. It was so cool. We were giving silent high fives to each other all night.


Maybe that's the point of this blog. It isn't just about selling wine, beer and liquor, it's also about intention. We're here to make people happy and provide exemplary service. Because we do that we are able to manifest what we desire. The universe hears our prayers and delivers. The reason this seems to be true is because our intentions are honest. When one calls something to himself without clear intention, the universe answers for sure. But what you reap is typically a tougher lesson than expected and usually hurts quite a bit. This isn't meant to be preachy. In fact, it's my own life lesson. There are times when all the prayers in the world haven't helped me. When I've asked the universe for help in the past, it answered with a resounding message; you can have what you want but it's going to cost you in the long run. Why? Because my prayers were selfish or inauthentic.


Today, as SG&G starts its second month of business, I'm really grateful that I accepted the "cost" of my past entreaties to the heavens above, and can easily say that what I ask for today comes from a place of considerable humility. My intentions, and those of Jeff's, are indelibly written in our hearts with a permanent marker. I ask for others instead of myself. I throw open the doors everyday and I feel like the luckiest person on the planet to be alive and able to have this business. I'm surrounded by love and life, both wrapping around me like a long, lingering embrace, and it feels very, very gratifying.

A Month Old

On Friday we'll be a month old. Boy, does time fly! Ha! Now I understand it when my daughters' pediatrician used to tell me that a baby learns everything they need to know in the first 5 years of life. When it comes to business, I think it's measured in months. I don't profess to know everything, by a long shot, but I know a helluva lot more than I did on Day 1. We went from "goo goo ga ga" to reciting the Declaration of Independence in front of the whole class.

This is a business where friendliness is the key element. We are expected, and rightly so, to remember the name of everyone who comes through the door, after their first time. It's stating the obvious to say this lends an air of familiarity, but it does, and it's critical. Personally, I find that a smile and a greeting to each and every person coming through that door helps make each one feel special. I know, for me, that my day gets a bit brighter when I can add even a minute or two of my sparkly Mimi-ness to someone's otherwise stressful day. Jeff too! He's got that sparkly shit down to a science. As a matter of fact, Jeff, Donald and I are just bubbling over with effervescence. All three of us were known for our happy, easy going personalities when we were growing up. I can see all the heads nodding vigorously out there in the blogosphere. That's up and down, people. Not side to side.

Jeff and I are also going through our own learning experience. After a year of being together every hour of each day, we're still together 24/7 but with a new pair of shoes. If you recall, baby shoes, back in the day, were sturdy and stiff. Supposedly, this was for ankle support. I have my doubts. To me it was bad science. Babies are flexible and rubbery. Sticking them in rigid shoes was counter intuitive to their learning to walk and express themselves. This analogy applies to Jeff and me as well. We're "learning to walk" in this business together. As we bounce around the store, careening off the walls, and finding our balance, we can't afford to be in stiff shoes. For one thing, our feet would hurt, but more importantly, our ability to walk at our own pace would be compromised. What looked and felt awkward and clumsy a month ago is now feeling more sure-footed.

So, let's everyone raise a glass to our first month in business and here's to many more months and years to come. Please come in and see us. We're the ones with the gleaming smiles plastered on our faces, ready to ask, "So, how was your day, darling," wen we see you. I wasn't kidding. We were all voted "most easygoing" in high school. Check our yearbooks! Well, don't check mine. I had a god awful Roseanne Rosanna Danna perm....but I WAS smiling.

Introducing the "better half"

Greetings. My name is Jeff. I'm the one who apparently gets blamed for "everything wrong". I don't mind it. It's a dirty job. But, somebody has to do it, right? Since 1992, I've been "blamed" for a lot of things in this business. I've been blamed for selling too many bottles of Verdejo, too many Belgian IPAs, too many bottles of Islay Scotch, too many Spanish Monastrell. This has been the broken record in my ear for the last 18 years. I also hear, "Why can't you sell the normal stuff that people drink?" In my mind, it's simple. The "normal stuff" doesn't excite me. It never has. I have never been the individual that goes along with the pack. I like to learn, develop my palate just so I can find incredible wine and beer. Scotch, bourbon, tequila and gin are all liquors that I'm passionate about as well. Unfortunately, I'm not going to touch on them in this post.  


Lets talk beer for a moment. Ahhhh....beer. That little four letter word that a lot of people could call a curse word.  One of the more common phrases I hear from people is, "I don't like beer." Really? Have you tried all of them? When I met my beautiful bride-to-be, she claimed she didn't like beer. Okay. What beer did she drink when she was forced to drink beer? Rolling Rock and Corona (no lime). That explains it. So, I asked her what she liked about Rolling Rock. I know that Rolling Rock is rather light and sweet for a "Pale Ale". That's what she liked about it. It was sweet. So, to continue my life-long mission to get people to drink better beer, I suggested a Westmalle Tripel. Hooked. Then we tried a few others that might have included Sierra Nevada Kellerweiss, Allagash Hugh Malone, Allagash White, Cosendonk Abbey Pale Ale and Delirium Tremens.  
"I didn't even know these existed!" she said.
"No kidding." I muttered.
"These are REALLY good!" Mimi continued.
"You think so?" I said with a sarcastic smile.
"What else can you show me?" she said eagerly. 
"Babe, there's a whole world of beer waiting for your approval."


On it went. We went to beer bars in Manhattan and Brooklyn. Then we flew out to Chicago to visit the Map Room for the clincher. "They really have beer bars?"  Mimi asked. Of course they do.  


I believe there are many people out there that think that they don't like real beer. I hear all of the excuses. It's too heavy. Beer gives me a hang over. I don't drink "dark beer".  I'm sorry that you have had bad experiences with Budweiser, Miller Lite, Coors light and any of the other swill that has claimed to call itself quality beer. What you are drinking is primarily corn. Real beer won't have corn in it. It will have barley, hops, wheat, and a whole array of different malts. Real beer. Drink real beer, is what I say. I guarantee that you will find a beer that will change the way you drink. I did. Mimi did.  


My suggestion is, the next time you're in, go to the back of the store, find a beer that appeals to you, then ask me about it.  I'm on a mission to show you a whole new world of goodness. My name is Jeff. I will help you along the way.  Happy trails, my friends. Enjoy your explorations.


Pour. Taste. Drink.

Friday Night Lights

Bearing in mind that we've been open exactly 23 days, I LIVE for Friday nights in the store. The energy is incredible. The place positively crackles with electricity emanating from all the customers as they bustle in the door. They're coming off the train, they're ready to unwind and they love to stop in and taste wine. They also want to talk: about wine, about beer, about the old store, about everything!

The (smart) reps who take the Friday night slot have the distinct pleasure of selling through their wines that night. It's typical to have people 5 deep at the counter as the wine flows. They linger, they mingle, they browse the shop and they buy. Obviously, we love the buying part, but mostly we love the camaraderie. If the laws weren't so antiquated in Connecticut I'd actually call Friday nights our "Friday Night Cocktail Party." It's just that much fun!

I'm noticing that we don't have to pour wines from a certain price point. Last night, for example, we sampled four bottles, all priced between $35 and $45. We sold every one we had on the shelves. It's also exciting for customers to taste a wine that's typically more than they spend. If they love it but still want to stay in their "comfort zone," we can easily help them do that without them feeling awkward. We've set the store up so we can meet every taste at every level.

But back to the conviviality part. I love when people are relaxed and having a good time. I like making people happy, sending them on their way with a little goodie in their bag to help make their evening a bit more memorable. It's the nicest feeling to have one of our new regulars come in and tell us how much they appreciated our selection, or that their evening ended on a calmer note because we gave them a delicious choice to share with friends/family. To me, that's what this business is all about, getting people talking to each other and to us. 

That's the kind of illumination, literally and metaphorically, that makes Friday nights here one of the sunniest days of the week. I hope all the days shine this brightly for many years to come.

What's The Secret Password?

For the past year I've been bugging my chef friend, Bill, to add a component to his restaurant that would more exclusive to his customers. He did. It's called Souterrain. It means "underground" in French. The secret dinners take place every other month and they sell out in hours. I can't take credit, per se, but I'm happy he did it. I'm obsessed with the idea of exclusivity. It probably stems from the fact that I was blackballed from a sorority back in college and have been trying to get my revenge ever since. Was it Groucho Marx who said, I don't want to belong to any club who will accept people like me for a member? That fits me to a T, the anti club member, yet wanting my own. Hence, the birth of a members only club at Saugatuck Grain & Grape. What's the secret password?

It's exciting that we're creating something special that not everyone can join. I don't do this to exclude anyone, actually, but to take special care of the clients that want to buy hard-to-find wines that can be cellared, or have limited availability, or aren't found in every wine store. It's a way of setting us apart from the pack, as well as, making us work harder to fill some of the tall orders that come our way. My father is a Burgundy collector, but only from very specific vineyards. He emails me daily with tasty little morsels that give a whole new meaning to "thrill of the hunt." When I score one, or two, I'm practically giddy. I've got it and you don't! Take that, you bitches! I didn't want to be part of your dumb sorority anyway. Take your Kappa and shove it up your Theta.


In the coming weeks you'll be hearing more about our club and how to get on the list. I'm not going to give it all out here or what's the purpose of developing something that has some exclusivity, but trust me, you'll definitely want to be a part of our club. I may even install a door with a small peephole to make it truly authentic. It's like Oz, but with no singing Munchkins or flying monkeys. I'll be happy to answer to Dorothy though. 

Partnership Has Its Privileges

I never wanted a partner in business before. I was always a one woman show, bigger than 'em all, and able to do it my way. Why would I want someone there to challenge my fabulosity or, heaven forbid, disagree with my brilliant ideas? I wanted total authority without having to answer to another. In other words, it was all about me. My mother named me well, didn't she? Mimi. Me! Me!

On many levels this worked. I could say "I' and not "we," which drove me crazy anyway. Anything terrific was all my doing. You were just lucky to be riding along on my designer coattails. It was all me, all the time. Screamin' Mimi, complete with WW II bomb analogy. Dropped out of the sky and whistling loudly so you know I'm there. You know where I'm going with this, don't you? The scenario tends to be a little myopic when one thinks there is actually an "i" in team. Or is it "eye?" Yeah, it's eye, and I got poked in mine.

Fast forward to this past year and I've learned that partnership definitely has its privileges. For one, I get to blame absolutely everything on Jeff. You don't understand why we set up our store this way? Jeff's fault. We have too much Chardonnay and Cabernet? Jeff's fault. We don't carry Yellowtail? Jeff's fault. Okay, maybe the Yellowtail thing isn't a fault, but you get the idea. Even better, I get to foist all the shit I don't want to do on him as well. Honey, can you take out the garbage? Answer the phone? Clean the glasses? When a salesman comes in I simply have to say, Hold on, I'll get Jeff. It's frickin' fantastic!!!! Why didn't I know this sooner? 

Okay, okay, I'm just kidding. Having a partner is truly magical. We are a great team, and often times, a tag team. When I need help with something, Jeff is right there with the answer. He's got my back in every way and I have his too. We provide a combined passion and enthusiasm to our customers that is contagious. People want to be here and spend time. They want to bounce ideas and their own knowledge off of us. How could they not? It's like having a cocktail party everyday with different guests and the store is our living room. Without my partner, this party would not be nearly as fun. Plus, Jeff has a 1000 watt smile, which, when it's plastered on his face, make people hang on his every word. Doing this business together has changed every prior belief system I ever held dear. I love having a partner.

I guess I'm going to have to change my name now. 

Anxiety thy name is Mimi

I've discovered that I can't relax. Now, some of you reading this will be wondering why I've only just discovered this fact. I've been pretty high tension most of my life. The difference between then and now, however, is that in the past I've been fearless. I never stopped to consider the consequences. I just plunged right in: businesses, relationships, hobbies, rollercoasters....now they all cause me anxiety. I lost my fearlessness. I think my father would say this is a good thing, but it's also made it tough to enjoy something when it's going well. Except for rollercoasters, I hate them now and always will. Any ride that makes you scream in terror is best observed from afar. Of course, some would say this analogy applies to relationships too.

So, it's two weeks into the opening of the store and I can't relax. I sweat the smallest situation, whether it's a slow day or a jam packed one. What if no one comes in? What if we have the wrong product? Did we buy too much? Too little? I live in this constant state of agitation and it's driving me crazy. I also think it hinders my ability to go with the flow. Duh! Poor Jeff. He is such a good sport. He very gently told me last night I need to work on my consistency. I smiled. What does that mean? I AM consistent. I'm consistently agitated!

I wonder if age or experience is what takes away one's ability to go with the flow? Remember when we were kids and we just went off on our little adventures? Did we ever consider that we'd achieve an unfavorable outcome? When I left the house in the morning I was gone all day, in the woods, exploring as far and wide as my little slice of Easton territory would allow me. My friends and I were a posse, innocently and confidently conquering whatever obstacles presented themselves. I chuckle when I think about how we'd line our bicycles up across our driveway if we wanted to keep a "bad kid" out of our yard. It didn't matter that the rest of the property wasn't blockaded, the bad kid couldn't get in the driveway to cause any trouble.

I'm going to work on relaxing, if possible. My Donald keeps telling me to take it in weekly increments. Again, when did I lose the ability to be rational? I know the answer to this but it will have to wait for another day. This blog is long enough and I'm anxious and agitated about it.   :)

Sigh.

Whine, whine, wine!

There's a funny (not really) thing that happens when you open a business after a year off. You're frickin' exhausted all the damn time. The days meld into one, and images of goldfish bowls flood your brain. Wait? Wasn't I just here? You look familiar. Didn't I just see you an hour ago? Why do my legs/back/arms/hands.....BRAIN....hurt? Did I sleep last night or was it a dream, because my dreams all involve me being in the store. When did I develop that kink in my neck? Will my eyes ever look anything but glassy? Did I eat today?


Of course, all this w(h)ining is for dramatic effect. The reality is, I'll take tired any day over aimless, bored and jobless. Who cares that I'm fast approaching the end of my 40th decade and am in desperate need of some kind of injection, perhaps of the lethal variety, but more likely, Botox. As the fiancee of a younger man, there are those moments when I look in the mirror and wonder if the Sandman was busy digging troughs in my forehead rather than putting me to sleep the night before. Crow's feet? Nah. More like the work of a large eagle clawing his way out of a crevasse, using my eyes as the toehold for his talons. Jeff? He looks as fresh and dewy as a newborn baby everyday. I hate him.


Wow, that paragraph took a left turn. Sorry. I was saying that I do love this new business despite the acute exhaustion and 13 hour days. We've met some great new people in the last few weeks. And the response has been tremendous. Best of all, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be able to work with my favorite people. Back in the day, when I had my clothing store, I met two men who became invaluable members of my team, and my life. Stephen did my windows and Donald ran my business. They also fell in love with my daughters and became surrogate Dads to them. Donald and I have worked in almost every business together since then, and I'm lucky to have him with me now. Stephen too. There are no words to describe how I feel but imagine a vast galaxy and then fill it up with gratitude, happiness, and deep love.


Back to work. This Friday is our official grand opening. We'll be pouring Veuve Clicquot all day. Come on in. There'll be a lot of love in here too.


Cheers!

What happens when......

Love and business are not supposed to mix. Everyone says it. However, a year ago, Jeff and I met, fell in love, merged six cats and two daughters together, got engaged and decided that a business together was the perfect idea. Call us cuckoo but we set out to break the mold....or is it cycle? We held our noses, jumped into the deep end and started swimming. We haven't taken a breath yet. The cats have gotten used to being "wet" as well.

On October 7th, our little baby, Saugatuck Grain & Grape was born. Insert all the cliches, because they apply. It was a labor of love. The delivery was long and arduous. We sweated a lot. There was a fair amount of grunting and groaning. You get the idea. However, it's a gorgeous space, filled with all our lovingly edited choices, and lots of great energy. We haven't experienced any colic yet, but this baby is still young. 

The decision to merge love and business at the same time is like using the Top Ten List of Stressors as your personal dartboard. Take your dart, throw it, and see where it lands. Oh, moving in together? Bullseye! Getting engaged? Blending a family? We got that! Financial problems? No job? Yup, yup, yup! Why go halfway? Go BIG, we thought. Then we saw a few of the other choices and we didn't want those. We stuck with what we had and put the darts away. We linked arms and walked forward like a mini army of two. Oh, and the cats. I can't leave out the cats. They get so angry when their contribution isn't recognized. 

Our adventure was not without its little discoveries, some delightful, some not so much. For every old beer can from the 40's we found, we also found structural issues, mold, hazardous materials and "old ghosts." I think the old ghosts were the toughest to exorcise. Jacob Marley paid a visit and wouldn't leave until he'd made his point. We lost a sub contractor early in the game when one of his ladies discovered he had a wife and had some of her friends "talk to him." Loudly. Jeff and I got sick when we decided to do some early demolition and didn't take proper precautions. And our contractor took a terrible fall off a dumpster resulting in a broken elbow and ribs. It seemed like there was always something for a while there but eventually we scared Marley back to his Dickens novel.

There were also some interesting, historical discoveries as well. Or, is that hysterical? Aside from the aforementioned beer cans, we found nudie playing cards. We also unearthed a chimney hiding inside a wall, along with an old radiator. There was also a bathroom, complete with toilet paper holder, light switch and window behind some walls. I loved that. Why bother taking it down? Just cover it up! There were old wine boxes in the ceiling, shelf talkers from the 70's, sales receipts that gave us an idea of what business had been before. When we ripped up the floor we discovered a 4.5 foot deep coal bin under it. The pit measured 30 x 13 feet and for a while we thought about making it into a koi pond. Unfortunately, that would've made us a restaurant, so we abandoned that idea.

All in all, it was an interesting adventure, one we couldn't have done without the impeccable craftsmanship of Jim Balasz. Not only was he a superior contractor, but Jim is one helluva man. Integrity should be his middle name. Everyday, he and his Tonto, named Al, arrived laughing and ready to rumble. We made two new friends during this process and I think everyone should have the pleasure of  meeting and working with Jim Balasz. JBC Construction is without equal and Jim is a fine man, indeed. He and Al are a great team.

So, that's the end of blog number one. My goal is to educate, illuminate, make you laugh, give you something to think about and get you to come in and experience Saugatuck Grain & Grape. At the very least, come in and meet Jeff and me. By proxy you'll also meet the six cats since I wear their hair on every outfit I own. You wear a belt? Pish posh! Persian cat hair is the best accessory.

Cheers!