I often hear stories told by wine professionals about how their earliest exposure to wine involved a grandparent who let them taste a spoonful when they were young, which maybe planted a seed that they would eventually revisit later in their life. Others involve stories of someone’s “aha” wine, or the wine so profound that it inspired them to get into wine, whether it be a simple Chardonnay or a rare Puligny-Montrachet. Neither of these have sparked that beginning for me, to be honest, partly because wine culture never seriously permeated my family’s traditions, but more so because it was the idea of wine itself that I gravitated towards: the fact that wine was a drinkable intersection between art, science, culture, and gastronomy was one that soothed my overly curious mind – the stereotypical mind that switched courses and majors way too many times.… read more
Tag: White
Pairing Afritada Manok and Wine: on Start-ups, Songs, and Scents
Looking at a timeline of top Billboard hits is such an absolute trip because the journey back to seemingly vapid bops aligns perfectly with particular stages of my life, bringing back such vivid memories. Rihanna’s Only Girl in the World always sends a jolt down my spine as I recall how it woke me up on the radio alarm during my first year of university; the rise of Lady Gaga’s Poker Face brings back that mandatory intro to info tech course we took in high school, where a classmate introduced me to the song as we did our dreadfully easy typing assignments; and Rihanna’s Work immediately became my theme song during that first month in San Francisco when I co-founded a company.… read more
Pairing Adobong Manok Dilaw and Wine: on Last Names and Journal Entries
I used to hate having such a difficult last name to pronounce, from gawkily laughing along as my high school vice principal failed to even attempt to say my last name on the graduation stage, to grimacing every time I saw the only red squiggly line under my last name on an electronic assignment in elementary school. Only recently have I really appreciated the fact that Decolongon autocorrects to decolonize, a word that didn’t really mean anything to me while growing up, but one that’s become part of a personal manifesto. I still don’t know exactly where the name comes from, but I like this as a start.
Along with many other Filipino name clichés, my middle name is my mom’s maiden name, and despite the fact that I don’t exactly know where it comes from either, theories of its origins seem slightly easier to theorize: Canaria might denote origins from Spain’s Canary Islands, it could derive from the Filipino word kanaryo which describes a lighter shade of yellow, or it could simply be a less common Spanish-inflected surname from the history of Spanish conquest – or perhaps a combination of these.… read more
Pairing Piaparan Manok and Wine: on Some Men I’ve Dated and the Libations I Chose
The shier period in my life when I refused to download any of the dating apps was certainly a stubbornly hesitant one. It’s still a bit of a proud moment for me to recall that the first guy I ever asked out on a date was during an in-person interaction just before a shift at work, despite the fact that I was visibly shaking while entering his number into my phone. It ended better than it could have, but let it be known that I, this human-shaped bundle of nerves, initiated a cheesy romantic comedy scheme by “casually” bringing some sheet music to the shop, knowing he studied music, just for him to accidentally see what I was holding and start a conversation – which was, on the theme of annoying film plots – interrupted by a woman who had just come from a yoga class.… read more
Pairing Lumpia and Pancit with Wine: on Journeys through Filipinx Identity
Sometime during my childhood, some Filipinos I knew started identifying as “Pacific Islander” along with “Asian”. I didn’t think anything of it. In the present day – probably some time in 2018 – I go on a persistent Scruff date with a native Hawaiian. A bingo card for gay first date topics might include burned family connections or sexual shenanigans, but for me, a square always includes identity – which easily glided from an identity-driven blind wine tasting game at this wine bar. He comments: yes, why do Filipinos like to check the Pacific Islander box? I don’t get it. I don’t disagree. The rest of the date is fine, but I feel bad about partially wondering how to escape this date unscathed because I’m in the mood for accelerated drunkenness with my friends and this wine just isn’t doing it.… read more
Pairing Adobo with Wine: on Shame and Chardonnay
This is a weird confession as I approach 10 years in the wine industry, but I’ve never felt completely at home in the world of food and drink.
In the 2nd grade, we used to have morning magnet polls as we gathered on the carpet in front of the chalkboard. How did you travel to school: car, van, bus, or on foot? What’s your favourite season: spring, summer, autumn, or winter? And then, this question – what did you have for breakfast: fruit, toast, cereal, or yoghurt? I hesitated and looked around the room. I was confused, but no one else seemed to be, unless they were hiding it well. I shrunk back, unlike my vampire-repelling breath that morning: I had garlic fried rice and part of an omelette for breakfast, including the extra garlic pieces my brother very carefully picked out of his serving.… read more
On Filipino Food and Wine Pairings: an Experiment
I never thought it would feel this quick, but I’ve spent almost 10 years in the wine industry, accompanied by all types of grapey gripes. They range from folks who think red wines are served too warm (which is a perfectly reasonable thought that I also vibe with), to those who decry Chardonnay as if it was Satan manifested into a liquid. Some are oddly offended by the slightest hint of sugar to the point where anything remotely sweeter than battery acid is considered a flaw. I’m not here to yuck anyone’s yum (even when said yum yucks other yums), but damn. Let’s loosen our sommelier pins just a smidgen.
Onto what Lagrein-ds my gears: I fucking hate pairing suggestions that generalize off-dry wines into super generic categories for particular cuisines, like this line: “try this German Riesling with Asian food”.… read more
Flash Forward Two Vintages
I’m doing my best to imagine – in a TV drama-like scenario – how viewers would try and piece together the events that happened if my last post was the season finale and this was the premiere of the next. Writing book summaries in grade school prepared me for this moment, y’all. Insert a moment to crack my knuckles and stretch my muscles here. Because my fingers typing up all these words is the only exercise my quarantined ass is getting up here on this day.
Anyways, a conscious decision to pause writing was all intentional rather than accidental – the last 2 years have been an exercise in focussing less on wine and more on other parts of myself: a deep-dive into all things queer, Filipino, gastronomic, and cultural, with some splashes of cocktails and wine in between.… read more
On Tokyo, Central Italy, and Miss Vanjie
I wish I could insert a montage of video clips here, combining all the clusterfucks and thrills of the past few months, but written description will have to do. Also, apologizing for a lack of posts is a tired cliché of the peak LiveJournal era, so I won’t do it. Oh, to be 13 again.
Imagine leading a tasting on Japanese whiskies – in Tokyo!
But also, imagine being so disorganized that you plan your Tokyo activities while waiting to board the plane, get lost from hopping on the wrong train from the airport, and have the police yell at your conference’s group in Japanese as we wrestled and tackled each other in Ginza. At some point in the week, you meet up with a Frenchman who tells you a story about the Japanese boyfriend that he keeps secret from his wife and kids, but is still lonely enough to crave your company: he doesn’t say it, but even as we overlook the city, he feels a claustrophobia about Tokyo that’s temporarily soothed by our sashimi and Bordeaux barrel-aged Japanese whisky.… read more
Collio Me by Your Name
Real talk: Call Me by Your Name was one of the only few new films I watched in 2017 and it was beautifully made and acted and needed in this world and deserved all its accolades, but I thought it was slightly overhyped? Bye! We can argue about this offline over an actual glass of Collio something. I mean, part of the film took place near Lake Garda so we could hypothetically sip Soave Classico or Lugana instead, but they also travel to Bergamo so I wouldn’t mind tossing out drunken thoughts over Franciacorta. Or all the above.
I can’t believe I already fly out to Japan in less than a week for a conference, and I’m severely underprepared in so many ways.… read more