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'Tin Shed' wines
Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 1:30 pm
by wixwacing
Slotcar racing shares a lot of motor skills (and I don’t mean model motors) with a lot of hobbies. In its more artistic sphere, the hobbyist can call upon skills requiring a steady hand and a clear eye. I know when I sit down to do a model and the ‘ambience’ isn’t quite right, it is useless for me to tackle some of the more intricate tasks without first inducing a state of oneness with the hobby. This can be achieved in several ways but my favourite way is to calm the nerves by imbibing a hydroxyl compound distilled from hydrocarbons!!
I have several favourites which spring to mind when scanning the shelves of the local ‘bottloe’ but just lately fate has decreed that my new found allayer should be one aptly named product from the Barossa Valley. Bearing in mind the Outhouse’s logo, I now duly award this drink the appellation of “Official Outhouse beverage – potable for all slotcar occasions†to induce a steady hand and a keen eye.
Enjoy
Posted: Mon Jul 21, 2008 5:19 pm
by ddyke
I finally figured out why you burn food -- you're drunk! Food always tastes good when you are drunk.
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 12:25 pm
by wixwacing
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Food always tastes good when you are drunk.
Too true Dan, especially if I've cooked it. I figured that all that carbon would soak up the hydrocarbons much like an auto charcoal canister!
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 8:40 pm
by yankfaraway
I seem to be surrounded by genuiese-geniususes-genius guys. Since I'm drinking it right now, I'll add my favorite to the list- Abita Amber Wheat Beer. I love it. Its made in Abita Springs, just outside New Orleans on Lake Pontchartrain, in St. Tammany Parish, Louisiana. I grew up in the deep bayou country beyond there, so the fact that they make really tasty weissenbrau there would have endeared me to the brew even if wheat beers weren't already my favorites. I can never go home any more, since they more or less paved the woods and filled in the bayous, but retired here in Virginia, 1000 miles away, I can reach back somehow and be the bayou boy with the crab traps, crawfish skeins, and gator stories just a little bit, when I taste the excellent brew of some other bayou boys who never left the shores. (Well, I did tell you I had been drinking.)