I’m not my normal, happy-go-lucky, Pollyanna self today. Maybe it was the garlic. Perhaps it was that over-oaked Barbera. Thank God for Inferno. The wine. A great cure for wood flavored Barbera and dyspepsia. On to the G.R.- garlic rant.
Gambero Rotto – is the plate of uncooked garlic sitting before me. Good potential but to this Sicilian stomach, in it’s raw state, a pile of switch-blades, the likes of which we haven’t seen since the dance scene in West Side Story (yeah I like some musicals, got a problem with that?).
Did anyone ever see the B-movie called Zardoz? A campy cult movie by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery and Charlotte Rampling. Zardoz (wiZARD of OZ, clever, huh?).
The story, set in the distant future, involves a group of immortal intellectuals who lives isolated from a outside reality of unbridled savagery and brutality. One of the people on the outside (Sean Connery) manages to sneak into their utopia and ultimately causes all kinds of havoc inside the intellectuals' utopia. (http://www.scifimoviepage.com/zardoz.html)
Sounds just like the Emerald Citta del Gusto, eh?
Some of the riveting dialogue:
Zed: I want the truth.
May: You must give the truth, if you wish to receive it.
Zed: I'm ready.
May: It'll burn you!
Zed: Then burn me.
Similar to how they talk at GR, when they decide on how to give awards?
Gacha: I want the gold
Churnilli: You must give the gold, if you wish to receive it.
Gacha: I'm ready.
Churnilli: It'll burn you!
Gacha: Then burn me. Burn me hot and burn me often.
How to get your Gambero Rosso
And… This is more dialogue from the movie, but what the hey, it sounds just like a bunch of whacked out Italians deciding who to give awards to, no?
Zed: What is it you want?
Friend: Sweet death. Oblivion.
Zed: For yourself, or for the whole Vortex?
Friend: For Everybody. An end to the human race. It has plagued this pretty planet for far too long.
Zed: You stink of despair. Fight back! Fight for death, if that's what you want.
Friend: I thought at first you were the one to help. But it's hopeless. All my powers have gone.
Yes there are some very fine wines, and yes I am happy to see more wines from the south ( besides just Planeta) getting recognized. So ultimately it is probably a good thing. But it’s like looking at a Wine Spectator and wondering who this has been written for.
A conversation the other day with a family member. Subject: letting things go (you folks in apartments in NYC already know about this, just look at your kitchen and your closets).
You just reach a point when it doesn’t make any sense to carry around these heavy books with all these pictures of three glasses in them with words that talk about the wines ( hey bloggers – at least all we are doing is jamming up bandwidth, not landfills!)
So I am just breathing in and letting go. Or as they say in Zardoz-land:
May: Friend, I cannot sanction this violence and destruction.
Friend: It's too late, May. There's no going back.
May: Don't destroy the Vortex! Let us renew it. A better breed could prosper here. Given time...
Friend: Time? Wasn't eternity enough?
Zed: This place is against life. It must die.
May: I have my followers. Inseminate us all, and we'll teach you all we know. Give you all we have. Perhaps you can break the Tabernacle. Or be broken.
Friend: An end to eternity.
May: A higher form.
Think what you like, but wherever Charlotte Rampling goes, there go I.