A Taste of Ann Arbor

Let us deal with the elephant in the room first: USC’s “stunning” loss to Washington yesterday. It shouldn’t have been that surprising; die-hard USC fans like myself, Kurt, and my dad (Mouse) saw it coming. Dad, Jim Keatley (jimkeat), and I even went so far as to pick it in the pool. Although I would suspect that Jim’s status as UW alum had a little more to do with the pick, dad and I found that 23 points helps to ease the pain of getting knocked out of the BCS championship . . . again. Why did we see this coming? USC always stumbles against an unranked league opponent, Matt Barkley and Taylor Mays were hurt and their status was questionable, and, oh, yeah, UW is coached by USC’s former Offensive AND Defensive Coordinators. So, they kinda knew pretty much exactly what we would do. I hope USC’s offense gets better in a big hurry, because we have a few tougher games than Washington ahead- like the entire month of October (Cal, Oregon State, Oregon, and Notre Dame).


I would prefer to spend the rest of this week’s musings on a topic more enjoyable- my visit this weekend to Ann Arbor and the orgy of football and food that followed. On the flight here I started reading The Billionaire’s Vinegar by Benjamin Wallace, the amazing true story about the sale of wine purported to be owned by Thomas Jefferson. Wallace’s descriptions of wine flavors and connoisseurship of ridiculously old vintages of Bordeaux wines (100, 150, or even 200 year old wines being opened and tasted) reminded me of almost capricious nature of “official” tasting notes. While an expert may be able to detect hickory, lychee, blueberry, slate, chocolate, tobacco, and bacon all in the same drink, the rest of us will just nod and say, “I don’t know – it tastes pretty good to me.” Which is fine, unless we’re chewing gum while we’re trying to taste it. While I’ve tried to absorb and describe the layers of subtle flavors in a tasting, I find that an impressionist critique is much more satisfying. If a wine invokes a memory of a summer picnic and licking the chocolate off a dripped strawberry, just go with that. And why just stick to wine- try it with beer, whiskey, or anything else.

With this in mind, my hosts for the weekend, Steve (GoBlue) and Beth, took me out upon my arrival to The Black Pearl, an elegant but not ostentatious martini bar on Main Street. Main Street in Ann Arbor is an impressive collection of art galleries and fine eateries. It’s just one of the several reasons that this, along with Madison and Iowa City, is one of my favorite towns in the Midwest (and it’s a lot friendlier than Columbus). We sat down to a late evening / post-call meal of lobster bisque (dad’s is still the best), tuna tartar, and fried calamari (always makes me remember the Plaza Mayor in Madrid). I sampled a set of their signature martinis:

• “The Black Pearl Martini”: A pear-blueberry martini with elderflower that tasted like an upscale sex on the beach, so how about a "sex in a beach cabaña"

• “Espresso Martini”: Vodka and kahlua with espresso served over streaks of chocolate. This is what The Dude would drink if he had class.

• “Pomojito”: A minty, tart, and sweet concoction that vacillated between tropical fruit and cough medicine. It tasted like having a sore throat on vacation in Aruba.

Saturday morning brought a groggy walk across the street for game day pancakes and a stop at the local barber shop for a game day haircut. Chatting with the second-generation barbershop owner, he told me about Michigan’s fierce dedication to tradition, with alums displaying a natural aversion to change. This helps in part explains some of the hostility towards new coach Rich Rodriguez. But the Wolverine offense is awaking, as displayed by their performance on the field against Eastern Michigan. We enjoyed the game in the uncannily quiet Big House under perfect weather (it is weird how not loud 108,000 people can be). But we left early in the 4th quarter, because we wanted to be sure to get a good seat at the sports bar for the incredible college football smorgasbord due on at 3:30 eastern.

We settled in to a large table at Buffalo Wild Wings. OK, yes, it’s a chain restaurant that completely lacks any local color, but they had the highest sheer number of screens per square inch, so it was perfect for our purposes. And our purpose was to watch as much of the afternoon games as possible. In one time slot, we saw Nebraska-Virginia Tech, Oregon-Utah, Michigan State- Notre Dame, Arizona- Iowa, Tennessee and, of course, USC- Washington. All amazing games, and several being decided in the final minutes.

We stumbled out onto State Street a few hours later, bellies laden with buffalo wings and hearts heavy with sorrow. The best therapy? Hot fudge sundaes at Ben and Jerry’s. This was followed by the second best therapy: whiskey and beer at Ashley’s. Ashley’s is quite simply one of my most favorite bars in the whole world. It’s right up there with the Hemingway Bar at the Ritz in Paris, The Sanctuary in Iowa City, The Salisbury in London, and Pat O’Brien’s in New Orleans. Ashley’s beer list is uncompromising, extensive, and thoroughly annotated. And the 50 single-malt scotches they also serve doesn’t hurt, either. I started with a couple of local brews from Holland, Michigan:

• New Holland Dragons Milk: A strong ale with a bourbon flavor and malty aroma. It was like drinking chilled Kentucky Bourbon in a European nightclub.

• Dragonmead Lionhearted Ale: Very sour, yet had a surprisingly great depth in flavor. Like breaking up with a high school sweetheart only to hook up with the head cheerleader the next night

Then I finished with a vertical tasting of whiskeys. I sampled 4 different blends of the same distillery, Glenmorangie.

• 10 Year Old Single Malt: This was battery acid, but tasty battery acid, like being slapped in the face for saying something very clever yet offensive.

• Sherry Wood Cask: This one had a strong vinyl aroma, like stretching out naked in the back seat of a freshly polished ‘72 Cadillac

• Maderia Wood Finsh: The aromas of oaks and smoke blended with a sweet brown sugar flavor. It was my favorite of the night, conjuring up images of running like hell out of a Portuguese wine cellar because it's on fire.

• Port Wood Cask: This was battery acid that smells like port wine. A rich full flavored whiskey that still burns the hell out of your tongue. Like toasting your mortal enemy with a glass of port in a moment of truce only to discover that your glass is laced with cyanide.

Drunk and full, we capped off the night with a showing of Inglorious Basterds by Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino’s homage to WW II movies and Spaghetti Westerns, The movie was indulgent, dramatic, over-the-top, and rife with male fantasy. A perfect reflection of our entire day.

Fight On,

Hans

PS: Another really cool ting about Ann Arbor- they have little fairy doors arranged at random places around downtown.  Weird, but cool.  Sophie would love this place.  http://urban-fairies.com/