If you saw my blog for April Fools or the next day, you saw my cousin (distant) Dolph. He is a fisherman in Sweden. Well OFF the coast of Sweden, but you get the idea. Point is he went away yesterday and I really miss the big guy. We would eat that smelly herring he liked so much, which had the added benefit of running Mike out of the house with a scoop and a plastic bag, and drink wine while swapping tales.

All I can say is YUM !

Like I said, I miss the big guy and am having that “empty house” feeling. Dolph was here for a month and made things exciting in the simplest ways. Dolph isn’t a guy who goes all out for much, unless it is work or relaxing, he loves his work and when he does it he is 101% all the way. And when he relaxes, he gives relaxation a whole new meaning. When he would run out of smelly herring I would try one of my favorite recipes on him, here is one he really liked.

Clams “secret” fondue

There is a mystery to this fondue, even the kids can partake without the worry of the alcohol because there is none ! Not a drop. I know most fondues are made with white wine, here is the reasons for that. Wine keeps the cheese smooth and adds a fruity zest to the cheese. But it isn’t the alcohol that works the magic, it is the grape juice and the tartaric acid in the grape skins that causes the magic. See, grape juice is mostly water, water keeps the proteins from turning into strings in the fondue. And tartaric acid helps with this. The grape juice (I prefer white) also adds a fruit flavor to the cheese and if you ever had a nice cheese and fresh grapes you would understand. So here is my comfort food recipe. I recommend cubes of smoked ham and sourdough bread to dip. You can also use apple slices for a fruitier experience. And if your cousin Dolph goes back to Sweden this dish can help you when you really miss him.

1/2 pound Jarlsberg cheese, shredded
1/2 pound Gruyere cheese, shredded
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 cup White grape juice (Welches is my favorite)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Teaspoon prepared stone ground mustard
Pinch nutmeg

Take your cheese, place it in a large plastic bag. Pour in the cornstarch and shake together until the cheese is really well coated (cuts down on stringiness later). Set to one side.

In a small chafing dish or fondue pot, over a slow heat, put the grape juice and lemon juice together and stir until you bring it to a simmer, mix in the nutmeg and mustard and stir together until well blended, now take your cheese from the previous step and stir it into the heated juice. Stir in a zig-zag pattern until blended. KEEP STIRRING or it will ball up or turn to string, yuck. transfer to a stand and if your pot has a thin bottom use a candle (a tea light) if it has a thick bottom you can use Sterno.

Set out plates of cubed ham, sliced apples or pears, I like grapes especially flames and sourdough bread (you can use sweet french as well but, you decide) dipping forks and small plates. Dip and swirl your morsel in the hot cheese mixture, allow it to cool for a few moments then enjoy.

Repeat as necessary until you stop missing your cousin Dolph, I mean, until your full.

Woof

Clams

To eat or not to eat,

that is no question for small weener dogs.

And now, in his greatest dramatic role ever - Clams, the pretzel eating hound.

Whether tis nobler in the minds to suffer an almost empty bag of pretzels or to take arms against the myriad grains of salt that remain behind and by opposing them, end them !To dine, then sleep; No more, please, and by a sleep to say the end of heartburn and the thousand natural crew socks that get aired out and chewed on, tis consumption !

Okay, I’ll cop to it, that was  a rather dramatic opening for a simple blog. What I meant to say was I love Shakespeare but I also love eating people food. I don’t know why, most of it is stale, over spiced and simply has way too much sugar in it, but I cannot help myself. I see a bag of chips, pretzels, an ice cream or piece of cake lying around I can’t stop myself, I’m just a small weener dog. And people food calls to me.

The point being someone (we shan’t name names but I think you have a good idea) left a mostly empty bag of pretzels laying around. Okay, the bag was more like wrapped in a rubber band and placed on a table, but there was a chair nearby and opportunity being what it is, the bag could be considered “laying around, open” Being the opportunistic weener that I am and was born to be, I absconded, I mean, cleaned up that bag. And, there, at the bottom, was quite a few grains of rock salt. A treasure trove of forbidden fruit !.

Rock salt is added to pretzels for flavor. A little bit here and there to amplify the tasty goodness of those tiny baked treats, but NOT in the amount found at the bottom of the bag. Those fall off the pretzels for a reason. Because Excess may do one mischief or, in plain terms “too much of a good thing” is no good thing at all. Apparently humans and small weener dogs have this biological defense against excess. We get upset tummies. And, well, we hurl.

So I did, I ate the salt, I got an upset tummy and I tossed my proverbial cookies, somewhere around the entrance. So if anyone reads this and is walking around today in bare feet, please watch your step. It wasn’t like I had a lot of choice. And, to the one who shall remain nameless (not Voldemort, this isn’t harry Potter) put your pretzels a little higher up, if you please, and I promise not to piddle on your tires next time.

Ooh, is that lemon poppy seed muffins I smell ? I love those !

Woof

Clams

Ayo say lang uh. Its how Swedish speaking people say “Goodbye for now or so long” nice huh ? It sounds really nice when they say it, I practiced for a week and couldn’t get it right, Dolph, my distant Swedish cousin, tried to teach me but there are some things that just aren’t in my grasp. Dolph knew what I was trying to say and he replied with  “See you later alligator” in return. Maybe I shouldn’t have had him watch American Graffiti with me, or at least explained it was simply a movie based on fashions from 50 years ago. Oh well. We each knew what the other was saying. Point is, we were saying goodbye.

Adjö´ så lä´nge!

Going to miss that big sailor cousin of mine. The tales he told of going after herring in the North Sea, fighting storms, eating great food on board ship and eating bad food, those were usually followed by a story about a cook being keelhauled (they still do that ?) and the stories he would tell of Sweden. He lives in Visby, a tiny village on the island of Gotland. He loves spending all his “land lubber” time there. He loves how old it is and the proximity to his beloved sea. I guess Dolph is a sailor, pure and simple. I know he loves wine.

So for Christmas I let Mike know we need to send Dolph a selection of our wines so when he is land locked, he has something to warm him up and enjoy his peace and quiet. Here is what I have so far.

Big Dog Petite Syrah

Howler Late Harvest Petite Syrah

Chick magnet Cabernet Sauvignon

Weeners leap Merlot

Dolph really likes those red wines. Says white wines just don’t have the body for those cold Swedish winters. And the next time Dolph and crew get to keel haul a cook, they can crack open a bottle of Merlot to celebrate. Not sure how that keel haul thing works, exactly, but Dolph sure seems to find it funny.

Adjö´ så lä´nge

Clams

I have been at the gym and am dying to show everyone the results. I have been using Arnold Schwarzenegger’s routine and I think the results speak for themselves. Look at those rippling muscles, that square jaw and the coat ? Well, when you attain perfection, everything just falls into place ! I don’t mind telling you it took a lot of work on the bow flex to get those chops but I think the new image is just what Weeners Leap Winery can really use. An aggressive and bold new look to instill confidence in anyone who sees yours truly on the label. Maybe we can get product into the health food aisle !

Everyday is a good day to go to gym.

I have to admit, I have been using some nutritional supplements. Such things as Amino Acids, BCAAs, Beta-Alanine and Creatine. But I draw the line there, no steroids. Kind of silly, actually, when you have a body this buff and fabulous why ruin it with steroids ? Yeah, all natural, that’s me, Clams the wonder dog, Clams the Mr. Universe of the Winery set, Clams the practical joker.

Okay April Fools yeah, it’s that time of year, the first of April. That isn’t me up there, that’s my distant cousin Dolf, he is visiting from Stockholm for the month. He works as a deckhand on a fishing boat, he is the winch. No, he doesn’t work with the winch he is the winch, he also serves as the auxiliary motor if the one on the fishing boat ever goes out. He is a big boy.

I have been working out a little, mostly walks, a bit of core work with the 15 minute Pilates DVD, and watching what I eat. Trying to back off the saturated fats. It cant hurt. And I have no plans to get to the same level of workout as Dolph, I like him, he is neat, tidy, funny and boy can he put away the Surströmming (When he first brought that stuff out I thought the bait went bad, turns out to be a really delicious, if smelly, dish) but seriously I wouldn’t want to be that big. I would never fit through my doggy door, I couldn’t go stealth at the dinner table and lets face it, being that big your first lap jump could become someones last ! Mike (Mike Workman, you remember him, my assistant at the winery) Prefers his canine supervisors on the smaller side. It means when we conference I can sit in his lap and give dictation. If I were Dolph’s size, Mike would have to sit in my lap and that is really inappropriate.

Woof

Clams

I get to listen to the radio and also watch television when I am not protecting Mike from Rhinos, or chasing seagulls from the lawn. I do have recreational moments, in between my myriad responsibilities, that is.

Hard at work again, thinking. My eyes are only closed because the sun was really bright.

One of the things I do to waste time, I mean, have a recreational moment, is I have been hanging out at You Tube lately. And I found something really “paws-itive”, Her name is Clara Cannucciari, she is 93 years old and remembers cooking during the Great Depression. Her recipes have been video taped by someone and put on You Tube for everyone to enjoy.  BTW, that link to the Depression will show you some really terrific pictures and essays on the whole thing.

Point being, Carla, who survived the worst economic time in history, believes that the recipes she used in day to day survival could be put to use today to help people make ends meet. I am sure she could rest on her couch and watch TV, but she decided to share her knowledge with the rest of us. There is more of that “warming” I talked about earlier.

So while I was surfing squeaky toys and new dog diet samples, I ran across this Lady and her videos. I thought to myself, her she is, radio, newspaper and television stating how dark and dreary things are and she just smiles and shows you how to cook on a shoestring meals that are tasty and cheap. No frowns, no “Dire economic indicators” no “Bailouts” or “economic stimulus plans”. A smile and stories from her childhood.

After watching the videos I was ravenously hungry, of course, she made a poor mans feast, peas and pasta as well as eggs and peppers,  but I had a new found resource. I’m going to leave these videos on and see if Mike gets the idea. They sure looked delicious and after my last cooking “incident” (apparently you need opposing thumbs to operate a fire extinguisher - who knew ?) Mike kinda frowns on me experimenting. He only feels that way because even for all the teasing I give him about his wine skills, he and I are good Friends. He doesn’t want to see me hurt myself. Or burn down the winery - sigh. He is right. I’ll give him that.

So, I’m going to queue up the poor man’s feast video, wait for Mike to watch it and I’ll go grab a bottle of Chili Dog and get it ready.

Is that home cooking I smell ?

Woof

Clams

I heard it in a song, a band called ELO. Now, they are a little before my time, but you have to agree with the sentiment. Our earth is a pretty terrific place. A wondrous ship indeed.

Now how could anyone possibly call this a little ball of mud ? Its way too pretty.

That’s Africa there in the center. Wow, makes me want to go there and get in touch with my weener dog roots. I know I know, weener dogs come from Germany, originally, but Africa is the cradle of civilization. So, if civilization had decided to start there, then there had to be weener dogs. Well, it follows.

Africa has some really cool places and animals. I admit the Lion is pretty awesome as far as cats go, if your into that sort of thing, I mean, but my opinion of cats is a little biased. Lets just say I am not going to vote for him if he comes up for re-election as “King of the beasts” I have my own ideas on that.

An animal a little closer to my heart is the honey badger. Just like his European cousin, the honey badger has a reputation for ferocity (which why they use small weener dogs, we may not be very big, but we have mad heart !) and, I have to admit, I kind of like the honey badger, one of his favorite dishes is African puff adder. A deadly snake that the honey badger sees as a snack. Even if bitten the badger simply goes rigid for maybe 5 minutes then goes back to eating the snake. And if Africa has badgers of any sort there you have proof “paws-itive” that there had to be small weener dogs !

I think should I ever visit Africa I will extend the olive branch of peace to my new friend the honey badger.

I may have mad heart, but I am no fool.

Woof

Clams

It begins, every night the same way. There is the smell, overpowering, driving everything else out of my nose. I can hear the growling, the rustling from deep underground, I go forward, into the deep dark pit, to face, and bring forth

BADGER !

The badger. My blood enemy. The darkest demon in the pit of Dachshund-dom. Add wings and it is a smelly, vicious, fanged and steel-clawed Satan from the very depths of Hades itself. Every fiber of my small black and tan being springs to action. the hair along my back forms a ridge, my tail shoots out straight as a Spartan Infantry Officers Xiphos (sword) and I lean into the fray that is certain to come.

Oh, it’s on, baby, it is on !

The scene changes abruptly. The funny part is I have met some pretty nice badgers, well, not a lot, okay, just one badger, and he was pretty old, terribly overweight and actually smelled more like patchouli with a hint of fresh mint. A really pleasant fellow who loved Longfellow, Whitman and Edgar Allen Poe. He spoke of the books he loved to read and the brandy he was fond of.

Louis XIII was his favorite, he said he couldn’t get enough of it. A bit of Camembert cheese, some table water and a nice snifter of Louis XIII and he could read almost anything. He would sigh and state flatly that his predilection for Louis XIII was an overly expensive habit that he would have to one day abandon but he couldn’t quite find anything that would fill such a void.

This is where my instincts proved invaluable to my friend. “have you considered a hand-made Merlot as a possible substitute” I asked hopefully. He seemed almost bored with his reply “Where could I possibly find a simple Merlot that could excite my complex and educated palate” He continued to murmur about tricky this and wonderful that and, since we were in a dream state anyway, I quite naturally had a bottle of 2003 Weener’s Leap Merlot in my hip pocket (it was a dream, after all) and offered the bottle to my friend. “Just dump out that nasty old brandy (it’s been around since Louis the Thirteenth sat on the French throne ? This stuff is fresher and isn’t at all French) and enjoy a snort of this”.

His nose twitches as the glass approaches his lips, he sniffs deeply and looking into his eyes I see magical lights dance behind his corneas, a smile starts to break and he eagerly lifts the glass to his lip, he takes, at first, a small sip, then a larger, deeper draft and he pulls the glass away long enough to gush about the rush of fruit flavors, the rich subtle hints of well, he looses the ability to speak, he simply smiles, offers his glass and queries “More” ? I oblige him, he is a changed badger, he starts to shed pounds of overweight, his fur is darker and his eyes clearer. He claims I have poured him elixir straight from the fountain of youth, that I have energized him and created him anew with this gift of the Gods.

“It’s what I do” I tell him, I make wine, and friends. Like you. What ? Me ? Hurt a badger ? We have been over this. I haven’t a mean bone in my entire body !

Then I wake up. It was a nice dream after all. I wish I knew where I had seen that badger before, I bet he could help me give Fluffy (the catnip addicted feline from next door) a run for his money.

Until next time

Clams

Blog, it’s a funny word. Web log or, simply Blog. A place for one to place ones thoughts on a site to allow others to view, comment and pass around. Have you ever seen a cat do a blog ? Nope, want to know why ? Cats don’t share ! That’s right. Where a person or even a small weener dog would love nothing more than to share, cats are just not that into you! Oh sure, some cat lovers (there is such a thing) write about their cats, but overall, cats do not share. Try giving a friendly sniff greeting the next time you see fluffy squatting on his private beach and see how far that little mistake goes. Wasn’t like the Fluffster had much going on in that private beach, heck, he was using it as a toilet !

Whatever you type, it will be seen...

Okay, that pic made me a wee bit nervous, no, not because of the middle eastern tone, but that’s Sarah Brightman, you know her, she sings that tune, from (shudder) CATS. Pretty lady, nice voice, but, didn’t someone do a musical about DOGS ? Well, I’ll have to see if Andrew Lloyd Weber is taking calls this afternoon.

But let’s get back to what is important here, sharing. Everyday I inspect the winery, the inside of my eyelids, the greatest places to take a nap and write this blog. I want you, the visitor, to know I am glad you came by and enjoy these writings. So I share my thoughts with you, some secrets of dog life and, my favorite wines. I own a winery, so you won’t be getting a lot of information about cheese (unless it is how cheesy cats can be when you…huh ? What ? no, I can’t right now, I’m writing, Fluffy, I’ll get back to you on that) sorry. I got interrupted by the neighbor cat. He wanted to borrow a cup of catnip and I don’t tolerate recreational drug use, even if it is herbal. And they wonder why they get chased.

So today, sit back, reflect, listen to some good music, have a nice glass of Weener’s Leap wine (Anything we make will do just fine) and, if you think about it and have a cat, the next time it is begging for catnip…

JUST SAY NO

The preceding has been a public service message WOOF

Clams

“Hello, Fluffy ? Look, cat, we need to talk, your catnip use has gotten out of hand. Your friends are worried about you. And, yes, we DO love you”

There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it’s like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges. - Ernest Hemingway 1899 —  1961

Anyone else ever wonder why bad writing ends in ellipses...

Ernest Hemingway. I like his stories. You always feel like your right there, which was great when he was talking about sitting in a cafe and looking out the window, but when he was talking about Spain, well, long story short, I kept an eye out for bulls for several nights afterward. Whew.

I came across an interesting event in Century City next month, not sure of the date, but it happens every March at Harry’s Bar & Grill. It is a contest where fans of Hemingway write parodies of his works and submit them for judging. The first prize is a trip to Harry’s Bar in Florence where Hemingway hung out (a LOT !). So his fans, if they can truly parody the style of such a great American Writer, get the chance to hang out in his favorite bar.

Now, I have my story all set, my bags are packed and I even have the 125.00 a plate for dinner at Harry’s in Century City. I have but one question

Does Harry’s in Florence serve Weener’s Leap Wines ?

What ? No ?

That’s it ! I am staying home and writing Poe from now on. A dog has to have his standards !

Woof

Clams !

Anyone else remember the show ? It wasn’t called “Psycho animals who attack for no good reason” there were reasons, plenty of them. Just sometimes, even with as easy going as we small weener dogs  and my fellow animal kingdom citizens are, there is a reason to state, fully and unequivocally, enough ! (In my best Rod Serling impression, which is doggone good, if I say so my self) “Submitted for your approval, portrait of a small dog, in a small hell”

What can't be seen is the permanent psychological damage this poor weener is suffering.

I like my Halloween costumes (This is not me, Mike, for how ever bad his wine skills are, has terrific taste in weener wardrobes, thank goodness) A lot of them are really cool. If I wanted to I could sweep the Halloween costume contests but I don’t. I prefer to let others win. I am content with a small bit of cheese, a little ham, a trip to my water bowl (if Mike remembers to flush it, that is) and a nice snooze.

What I desire, deeply, to know is, does anyone else hear that gawd-awful annoying song right now ? I am talking, of course, about the “Oompa-Loompa” theme ACK ! I am listening to Japanese rock and roll at the moment to drive it out. And as good as Ayumi Hamasaki is, even her lovely voice and driving rhythms cannot get it out of my head. I am half tempted to fly to Paris right now and take a bite out of Johnny Depp. Not true. I wouldn’t hurt Johnny, he’s my second favorite pirate and my first favorite Fleet Street Barber. My favorite pirate of all time ? Geoffry Rush, of course !

Who is Geoffry Rush ? Are you kidding me ?  Why he is only the greatest pirate of them all he portrays Captain Barbossa ! We all have our favorites. I like Captain Barbossa, yes, he scares me a bit, but it’s all in good fun.

I digress.

The point being: If your going to dress your small weener dog up in costumes ask yourself “Would I be caught dead in this outfit after, or even before, dark” ? If the answer is “No” , well, do the math. It means Robert Urich will have one less show to host, but, in the end, There will be less , uh, “incidents” to deal with.

Now to try and get that stupid song out of my head. I swear I will never watch the Chocolate Factory again. Those green guys were really, really, creepy.

Woof

Clams