Abdication.

To abdicate is to renounce the throne. Why anyone would abandon their claim to the monarchy is beyond me, I'd love to be Queen.  However, not all abdications are negative in nature.  Let's face it, if Edward VIII hadn't let his libido get in the way of his duty to old Blighty we (the royal we?) wouldn't have been blessed with the unparalleled 68 year reign (thus far) of HRH ER II.  Rather, in my humble opinion, an abdication with a negative impact would be the act of usurping the employment of a crown cap closure on my favourite Grüner Veltliner (GV).  And it happened.  This particular abdication, probably of no consequence to most, has caused me quite a bit of consternation.

I loved the old closure on the H&M Hofer GV, I found the crown cap snappy and interesting.  Starting with the 2018 vintage, the Hofer GV is now sealed with a boring old screw cap.  It is my suspicion that using a crown cap on wine, when the consumer expects this type of closure to be reserved solely for beer bottles, negatively impacted the sales of this Austrian wine in the United States.  It is fair to point out that Hofer also changed the bottle shape (more Bordeaux-ish now) and the glass colour, but those two items are not nearly as distinct as a crown cap and, to be honest, probably would go unnoticed by the consumer.  Ho hum.  Alas, nothing remains unchanged.  I'll survive, I suppose, but perhaps I need to buy myself a tiara and wear it whilst enjoying a glass of this GV in the future.

A short tale of a sherry-sipper.

In my family lore there is the story of how, like the current monarch Queen Elizabeth II, my grandmother had two birthdays.  ER II, like all English monarchs since the mid 1700s, has a real birthday and an official birthday.  The date of the latter birthday, like much in rainy England, is dictated by the weather (too silly not to be true).  The circumstances surrounding the fact that my grandmother had two birthdays were not so, ceremonious.  Or weather related.
The family friend who had been tasked with registering the newborn's birth, on behalf of my great-grandmother who was on bed rest, was unfortunately illiterate.  Exactly one whole week had passed and the poor woman, unable to read or write, was not educated enough to catch the simple clerical error.  So, according to officialdom the date of my grandmother's birth was the 19th of September 1903.  In jest, sometimes my grandmother would insist upon the family observing both anniversaries of her birth.
I only ever knew my grandmother to imbibe alcohol at parties, usually Christmas and New Year's Eve.  And her drink of choice was always a cream sherry, but just a sip.  I'm sure more sherry went into my grandmother's trifles than into her glass.  Her generation weren't big drinkers, they couldn't afford to be.
Today would have been my grandmother's 117th birthday.  And next week she will have another 117th birthday: I will observe both.  Long gone, but not forgotten, she was the best gran a Vinogirl could have.

Just because 6...

...I love dogs, and I love England.  And just because today happens to be Queen Elizabeth's official birthday (her real birthday is the 21st of April). But it is with a certain royal Mendelian experiment that this post is primarily concerned.
The Queen of England has long been associated with the Welsh Corgi and is pictured above with her own first corgi Susan, an eighteenth birthday present for the then Princess Elizabeth. Decades later a descendant of Susan's, a corgi named Tiny, accidentally I hope, bred with Pipkin a dachshund owned by Princess Margaret.  The result of this little genetic mishap?  Enter the dorgi.
At the time, not wanting to openly appear offended by this travesty of mongreldom delivered upon them by their monarch and patron, The Kennel Club released this statement:  "The dachshund was evolved to chase badgers down holes, and the corgi to round up cattle.  If anyone loses a herd of cattle down a badger hole, then these are just the dogs to get them out."  Love it!
Happy Birthday QE II.

A jubilee jamboree!

In spite of the dreadful English weather, Britons turned out today in their millions to celebrate the Queen's Jubilee.  Besides getting an email from Thud about the awful weather at home, I had to laugh at this NBC News report:  "Black clouds, gusting winds and often torrential rain - the hallmarks of a British summer outdoor event - were unable to darken the magnificence of the display, although several people were treated for hypothermia."  So all in all, a typical English summer day.

Here in Vinoland the celebrations went without a hitch and under much better climatic conditions.  With an English reinforcement, the School Teacher, a selection of English, Welsh and Scottish cheeses were consumed (with Jacob's Cream Crackers, of course), all washed down with a bottle or two of Newcastle Summer Ale.  

A good time, under the warm California sun, was had by all.

Keep calm and drink wine.

Happy Friday!  Happy first day of June!  I'm feeling in a celebratory mood.

This weekend, with a little pomp and circumstance, I'm going to join in the celebrations for the 60th anniversary of the accession of Queen Elizabeth II to the throne, from my little corner of California.

Sixty years, that's quite an achievement.  During her long reign Elizabeth II has managed to remain calm - suffering through bothersome in-laws, ever diminishing dominions, the waxing and waning of the monarchy's popularity and her famous annus horribilis - which I'd like to think could possibly be attributed to drinking wine. However, I hear the Queen often favours martinis over first-growth clarets.  But still, I bet she has a more than passable collection of Bordeaux in the cellars beneath Buckingham Palace.

So with my Union Jack embellished serviettes, fairy cake cases and yards and yards of bunting I'm ready for a party in Vinoland.

Deus servo Regina.