The 12 beers of Christmas.

Just kidding. One wine, one beer, and a little bit of another beer.

This is what I discovered this Christmas other than The Godfather trilogy on DVD (awesome!): I am a Plonkster, a Plonktonet, a Plonk-a-donk.  A Trogloplonk. Don't give the good stuff to the Trogloplonk no matter how otherwise charming they might seem, it's as good using it to wash your dishes, and not even the nice ones.

Mid week I received this way too generous donation to the cause, a 1994 Williams Selyem Pinot Noir Sonoma Coast. This is a good wine from a good wine maker.  About five people had a chance to taste it before I did, and this is why no one should ever give me nice wine: I like Pinot, and I like wine, but I just couldn't find my way to this wine.  Five brilliant wine geeks informed me how good it would be, but alas...I wasn't getting it.  My deep condolences to the generous donor.  I remain a Trogloplonk. 

Christmas eve, before dousing the fire and closing up, I grabbed this Stone Imperial Russian Stout, limited Spring 2010 release.  Because it was still light outside after closing, I grabbed my recently neglected bike and ran out for a few miles.  When I got back, I noticed Freddy was in the pit and I was like, Hey, Freddy, what are you doing down there all alone? 

Freddy's been a little scarce this year, expanding his portfolio, so no one was expecting  the delivery of Freddy's Guatemalan tamales. 

 Christmas eve was awesome.

Also late in the week, this came my way, The Lost Abbey 2009 Angel's Share Ale, "Inspired beer for sinners and saints alike."
"Our Angel’s Share is a barrel aged burgundy colored ale infused with copious amounts of dark caramel malt to emphasize the vanilla and oak flavors found in freshly emptied bourbon or brandy barrels. Each batch spends no less than 12 months aging in the oak."
 This stuff sounds fantastic and gets a 93 on Beer Advocate, but when it was given to me the gentleman said he had too much of it and frankly didn't care for it.  (This is more my style.) He was giving me permission to hate it. 

 I didn't ...hate...it, but I didn't drink it. I opened it Christmas day and tasted it and it was : thick with chocolate, molasses, black licorice with a good balance of sweet and bitter, and very little carbonation. It was fascinating and I liked it but with no interest in drinking it.  I thought I might develop that interest and waited some and tried again, but no - while fascinating and worth the moment, there was something overdone about it for me to want to stay with it.  It was discarded. 

This morning I got it!: Mr. Bukowski's headstone.  That stuff was trying way too hard.

I only got as far as The Godfather.  I've already been informed by everyone to avoid the third one.  My taste thus far might prove it to be my favorite.