Water Separates the World, Wine Brings it Together

Do you know the origin of your name?  I mean the etymological origins, not the fact that you may have been named after some great uncle, once-removed, on your mother's side.  I am not sure if my parents knew the meaning of Dennis before they labeled me with such a distinct honor, but if they did, they may have had some devious plans in mind.  'Dennis' originates from Greece and is derived from Dionysus, the greek god of wine, theater, and fertility.  He was the Liberator!  The one "who inspires ritual madness, joyful worship, and ecstasy, carnivals, celebration." (Wikipedia)  Wow, what a name!  In future posts, I may make reference to some of these other characteristics, but today, I'm going to tell a story about a boy from New York who travelled to the Old World and discovered the importance of the red water that his name's etymological origins were so engrossed with.


Wine, to me was always an elitist drink.  So many different types, grapes, ages, vineyards, how are you supposed to make a decision.  At least with beer, I initially had the influence of television commercials and ads.  "Samuel Adams, always a good choice!"  Not to mention an older brother and a father who both liked beer.  But wine was hidden, not really accessible to me at all.  My parents occasionally had a bottle white zinfandel in the house, which I had tried a couple of times.  A vile, sickeningly sweet drink with this odd boozy after taste to it.  Gross... at that point, I didn't care if it was accessible or not, it was nasty. 


That all changed after a study abroad trip in the summer of 2004.  I travelled around Europe with a group from the Normandy Business School studying, take a guess, wine!  More specifically, we were researching the business related aspects of importing alcoholic beverages into the European Union.  Yeah, guess where we did our field research.  Upon arriving in Brussels, during orientation, I was handed a beer, a Chimay Bleu.  Yes!  I know beer and I know that I like this beer, so we're good, for now.  In Holland, I was handed a Heineken.  Alright!  Once again, a beer that I knew (in this case, a beer I knew I despised, but still a beer), but I'm still in the cool.  Welcome to France and Spain!  Uh oh... whats this red stuff in the nice crystal glass?  I truthfully don't even remember what the first wine was.  All I remember was how I talked myself out of liking it.  It wasn't beer, I didn't know it, I don't want it.  I'm not an elitist, wine isn't for me.  My professor then said something that knocked me off my beer loving feet.  He said... try it, it's just wine.  He said that you should go to the store and pick a bottle that 'looks good' and that liking the label is a perfectly valid reason to try a bottle.  He then took a sip, did this little aeration trick with his mouth, and said now thats good...  Try it!  And try it, I did.  Wine was now accessible, wine was grounded.  In my mind, wine was no longer that elitist drink that only wine insiders drank.  In fact, while at a restaurant in Spain, later on during the trip, a friend and I even got a bottle.  The first bottle I ever ordered, De Casta by Torres, a rosé.  

Italian Hillside

I cultivated my new education steadily, trying various vintages from California and Long Island vineyards, even one from North Carolina.  I mainly stuck to the big name varietals like merlot or cabernet sauvignon, I still felt a little intimidated venturing from those, but I was drinking wine and I was happy.  
In January of 2006, my experience with and access to wine took another leap forward.  I studied for a month in Italy.  This time, I was studying ancient art and architecture, not alcohol, but still... in the land of wine, one will indulge oneself.  My friends, professor, and I took a tour of Sergio Mottura vineyard at the top of a hill in Civitella d'Agliano.  The view was magnificent as it towered over the rest of the small town and its rows of grape trees lined the downward slopes.  Leaving the main house, going down a damp stone staircase, we walked into the wine cellar.  Now deep inside the hill itself, barrels of wine lined the cool, dark cavern.  Some barrels contained red, some white, and at the end of the rows are where the sparkling wine rested.  Here, the grapes that grew out in those italian fields became the drink that is beloved around the world.  The leader of our tour began pouring and gave us a tasting.  Before taking our first sip, he said things like 'grapes don't grow well in sand... Long Island wines are pure acid' and 'if you are going to drink a varietal, get one from where it came from, be honest with your wine.'  We then proceeded to taste and once again, my understanding of wine was turned upside down.  It was smooth, dry, and delicious.  It coated my tongue and left a delightful aftertaste in the back of my throat.  It was a Pinot Noir.  He laughed and said to me, "I'd knew you'd like that one.  No more merlot for you."


Later on during that trip, my friend Nick and I were touring Florence as we hunted for a friend's wine bar, Il Volpe Enoteca.  There we sat and tried our new found taste in pinot noirs and other italian wines.  While eating prosciutto, cheese, and crackers, we had taste tests to see which wine we like better.  The waitress would serve a glass with a colored rubber band on the stem to distinguish what we were drinking.  Pinot noir, merlot, sangiovese, and others all got their own colored band.  After many glasses it was determined that we both preferred pinot noir over the others served.  As we stood up to leave, I glanced at the menu on the chalkboard above the counter.  There was this one glass which was almost twice the price of the others on the list.  Nick and I decided to try it, how often do you get to go to an italian wine bar and indulge?  So we each ordered a glass of Brunello di Montalcino.  What was served to us wasn't really red, it was more brown and it was served in a very wide glass.  This sangiovese varietal from Tuscany had such depth to its flavor, it was so smooth, and had such a lasting aftertaste.  It was dry, with floral and earthy notes.  Some black cherry, maybe even chocolate flavors filled my palette.  It was simply amazing and to me, we had discovered the best in the world.

Brunello di Montalcino

Wine is a fascinating drink that has a different meaning and purpose to everybody in every situation.  Go home and contemplate a long day's work with a glass in the evening, celebrate the a special occasion with a glass of Brunello, or simply enjoy a well paired glass of wine with dinner.  Wine is not an elitist drink.  The two-buck-chuck has just as much of a place in life as the merlots, pinots, and barolos.  
So, go find a label with a funny name or a picture you like.  You might find something great.  Maybe ask the server or sales person to recommend something based on a food pairing.  Thats how I found Cotê du Rhone, a wonderful earthy wine that goes great with roasted vegetables.  


I can't help but wonder how else my personality may develop to match my name's origins.  But in the meantime, I'm going to go enjoy a glass and not worry about it.  Wine is accessible, go pick up a bottle, share it, enjoy it.

*I will soon be posting a wine list (as has been requested by many friends) detailing wines across a range of prices, varietals, vineyards, and some recommended pairings.

Have You Ever Gone to a Bar Alone?

The beer is flowing, the shades are down, its dark, I'm buzzed, and all 9 TV's are tuned to football (soccer).  I must be at Nevada Smith's or what I have come to refer to as my home away from home, my library, my church, you name it.  Its my spot to escape from the world around me for 90 minutes to watch 22 men scramble furiously for a ball in what is often a futile attempt to kick it into goal.  Usually, its me and a couple of other Bayern fans sitting in the dark (they close the shades to see the match better).  Today is not normal though...  The bar is packed on a Wednesday afternoon.  It literally has become a microcosm of Europe as the UEFA Champions League kicks off and Europeans have no where else to go to root for their home team.

Tons of people pack in around the bar to get their drinks before kickoff and then migrate to which ever television is showing their team.  I was sitting there, alone, in my FC Bayern jersey (a team which I have become quite fond of) waiting for the Bayern v Roma match to start.  When I arrived, the place was pretty much empty, but I knew that wasn't going to last long.  So I grabbed my beer and my stool and secured a spot in front of the TV that I cared about.  Soon the place filled up.  In walked a guy that I recognized from other Bayern matches, so I made a spot for him to sit down.  Fans of Chelsea, Real Madrid, Roma, Bayern, even an Inter Milan fan (Inter played yesterday) was there to watch AC Milan with fellow Italians.  As English, Spanish, French, Dutch, etc all scattered around the bar, I was now surrounded by Germans and Italians all speaking in languages that I did not understand at all.

2:45: Kick Off.  

Each group was now broken off into their separate areas, decided upon by Nevada Smith's management as to which match to play on which TV.  Chelsea got the projector and the overhead commentary.  My fellow Germany fans and I watched Bayern progress in silence.  For the most part, the place was quiet.  Some chatter, some small talk... nothing major as everyone watched with anticipation of their favorite footy team scoring.  BOOM!  The crowd erupts.  What happened?   Bayern didn't score and thats all I was paying attention to.  Heads began to spin to see what TV, what team, earned that first goal.  Chelsea.  For the next 90 minutes, that happened over and over again.  Chelsea again.  And then Chelsea again!  Then Real Madrid.  Chelsea a couple more times, and AC Milan was next.  Us Bayern fans were getting a little anxious.  The Roma fans too.  When was it going to be our turn?  I wanted to jump up and scream and yell and hug the people next to me as if it was I that scored that goal.  But time was dwindling down and both teams started to look desperate.  80th minute: Thomas Müller scores.  The German fans erupt in a fit of passion, drowning out the cursing from the Italians.  A couple of minutes later, Miroslav Klose scores again for Bayern.  It was once again our turn to come together as friends and cheer for our team.  And cheer we did.

Nevada Smith's during Euro 2012 Qualifiers
(Germany v Belgium)

I entered that bar alone.  I never in my life thought I would be doing that, going and drinking alone.  Thats the sign that someone has a problem right?  The first time I did something like this was pretty scary.  I went to Zum Schneider for a World Cup match (Germany v Australia).  Talk about being out of my comfort zone...  I barely knew the sport, I didn't have anyone to talk to, I didn't even speak the language of the people that I was with (everyone spoke German).  But, I quickly learned that I was not alone. Far from it actually...  The world is a friendly place.  There is always someone willing to talk, you just have to reach out and be friendly.  I've met so many interesting people by doing this.  I met Ehmer a couple of weeks ago while watching Bayern against Wolfsburg.  Tom, despite seeing him around for awhile, I met today while watching the Champions League.  They were both language students, studying abroad in America.  I met Phillip and Raffi while they were vacationing in NY and stopped in to catch the Euro 2012 qualifiers.  These are all people that I never would have had the experience and pleasure of meeting had I never wandered into Zum Schneider or Nevada Smith's alone that first time.

Scary and uncomfortable?  Yes.  But its okay... cause I was never alone.  I was amongst friends that I just hadn't met yet.  

By the way, Thomas Müller is my favorite footballer!

Heartburn? Nah... I'm Just Thirsty.

My first little lesson in health...


A couple of years ago, I was diagnosed with "GERD" or Gastro-Esophageal Reflux Disease or even more commonly known as heartburn!  What happened was this... I went to the gym, had an awesome workout, and then went back to my desk to eat lunch.  Due to my ridiculous post workout hunger, I scarfed down my food.  I barely even chewed.  Low and behold, a piece of food got stuck, causing a massive amount reflux and even damage to the lining of my esophagus.  I went to Lenox Hill Hospital, was examined, x-rayed, and essentially told to chew better in the future.


Now, I had suffered from heartburn spells before, but this was something else.  The pain in my chest was so terrible it made me sick to my stomach.  To alleviate the symptoms, I was told to angle my bed, avoid coffee and chocolate, and all the other normal anti-GERD recommendations.  I was also prescribed a proton-pump inhibitor, which reduces the amount of stomach acid produced.


Here's the problem... none of that really helped.  The PPI would do the trick, until I stopped taking it and then the heartburn would come back full force.  I despise taking medicine like that, so I decided to look into what causes acid reflux and try something different.  The answer that I discovered: water.  According to the research that I did (reading articles and testing on myself), heartburn is a thirst indicator for the body.  Stomach acid has a pH of about 2 (hydrochloric acid) while water, being neutral, has a pH of 7.  By drinking water, you naturally dilute the acidity of your stomach.  Antacids do the same thing, but to a stronger extent... which could lower the acidity too much.  Water would do this naturally and gradually.  I tried it... and it worked.  I increased my water intake and now I am off the little purple pill and my bed is still nice and level.  So, take it or leave it...  It may not actually cure your heartburn, but drinking a glass of water is a lot easier, cheaper, and healthier than reaching for the pill bottle.  What have you got to lose?


These comments have not been reviewed by the FDA.  And I'm not actually a doctor.  Yet.

Life Economics 101

Everyone has scarce resources that they must allocate.  I need to get dinner tonight.  I could go to St. Marks Market and get a potato or I could get pineapple chicken curry (my fav) from the thai restaurant.   Obviously, the potato will cost less... but I have to cook it.  I have to take time and prep my food.  My time!  Which has a certain value to it.  I could be doing something else while making that potato.  I could be playing soccer, studying, writing, programming, whatever...  But now I have to stop and make my potato.  What happens if I'm not comfortable in the kitchen?  What if I don't know how to cook.  I'd most definitely have to pay the extra money to have my food prepped for me and in that case, it might be worth it.  For me, its all cool though, I know how to cook and I feel pretty comfortable with a chef's knife.  I'll sacrifice my time for the money which I can then use to buy something cool later on.


That's "opportunity cost" (you'll hear me toss that term around):  the cost of taking or passing on an opportunity.  Now, this seems like a pretty simple example of an opportunity cost, and it is.  It really only took a couple of minutes to cook up a delightful dinner with my potato (and chicken, kalamata olives, peppers, garlic -- still all cheaper than the curry) so the cost of my time was negligible.  Also, it started raining out, so no soccer...  you get the point.  So how do you measure the opportunity cost of starting over?  There's no right answer.  Here is what I learned:

Comfort is overrated.  What was more important?  Feeling comfortable in a familiar place that I could make a lot of money or my happiness.  I chose the later, hoping that the former will follow eventually.  So the trade off... comfort.  Stepping out of your comfort zone is a very difficult and scary thing to do.  Yet it can be so rewarding as well.  Now, I understand that the cost changes depending on your situation.  I luckily have no mortgage, no dependents, no financial burdens except for a boat loan.  So to me... my happiness took precedence.  My point is, you may not be able to start over or make drastic changes in your life, but once in a while... step outside of your comfort zone...  Go try something new.  Join a local sports league or club, go to a bar and watch a soccer match in the midst of 100's of screaming german soccer fans.  Try a new hobby like brewing or blog writing.   Go for a walk in a place you never have before.  Tell someone you have a crush on that you like them or just tell a friend that you care about them.  You might discover something awesome and it may very well be worth the opportunity cost of maintaining the status quo.

Exploring Central Park for the first time

I Call Do Over!

What do you want to be when you grow up?  I never knew the answer to that question.  Well, I lie.  I did know, but the answer would change daily.  I think every kid at some point wants to be a garbage man, riding around on the back of the big loud trucks is so tantalizing a prospect.  Same with being a fireman.  Suited up in gear, riding into the heat of battle, using the giant circular saw... the better question becomes, who doesn't want to be a fireman?  I had answers across the board... teacher, ambassador (yeah, I know), chef, you name it.  Now, I'm not saying I have it all anything figured out yet...  Hell, my goals have changed so many times, who am I to say they won't change again.

I started off as an economics student at Baruch College.  I earned my BBA and worked in finance during the economic resurgence of 2002-2006.  During that period, I learned a lot about the financial markets, the global economy, stock trading, and the fact that I really wanted nothing to do with any of it.  Don't get me wrong... I love economics, but I was interested in 'micro' economics, the study of the allocation of scarce resources, and sadly, finance lately has little to do with actual economics.  Unfortunately, no one listens to an economist with only a BBA.  So I was screwed... the only available jobs for an economist at my level were in a field I knew I hated.

Luckily for me, a global financial news media company, which I will try to keep nameless, was hiring economics (and finance) students as computer programmers.  Wait, what!?  Yeah, the company figured it would be easier to teach me how to program than it would be to teach a programmer economics.  Okay, I can handle that... And so, I began my first full-time job.  Little did I know, I really don't like programming either.  Crap!

Tools of contemplation

Over the next four years as a programmer, a number of different situations arose that had me doing more and more independent research about the human body.  Whether it was nutrition based (what should I be eating to become a faster swimmer or lift heavier) or help cure my brother who has ulcerative colitis (a disease of the large intestine).  I began researching the causes and cures of my relentless heartburn, the shoulder tendonitis that plagued my swimming, even the vertigo ("yes, its a serious medical condition") that my mom complains of.  It was then I started to notice that I found  something I really liked.  I want to be a doctor.

A little over a month ago, after much contemplation and internal debate, I quit my glorious, high paying job as a programmer to enter Columbia University's pre-med program.  I could have taken the easy route and stayed.  I earned enough to have my own apartment in Manhattan, I travelled the world, I bought any new product that Apple developed, I was a 'rock star'.  I let it all go and left it all behind.  I'm taking the more difficult yet, hopefully, more satisfying path.  Another 10 years of school, student loans, etc.  Im a poor, starving college kid, looking to make new friends, have new experiences and learn more about life.  Again.