(Tex the sommelier enjoys a Henry the VIII moment as the crowd thins out at Willlow’s Thanksgiving. Photo Chanteuse Mary.)

“Our Vision is To Elevate Life With Every Glass Raised.”
– Constellation Brands corporate mission statement

“ARRRRGH.”
– That guy with the cardboard sign on the traffic island with the long light at Fairfax Drive and North Glebe in Arlington.

I pulled out of the private observation of the holiday, and went to Willow for dinner. Seemed a decent compromise between cooking and having some fellowship. It turned out to be a splendid choice, given the distance between the elements of the Socotra Clan.

I had some minor trepidation about being the lone loser, dining at the end of the bar but it turned out just dandy.

The Usual Crew at the restaurant was a little slap-happy from serving up nearly 300 dinners by the time I got there, football was playing on the television screens and it felt a lot like being in my living room only with someone to bring me wine when I wanted it.

Tracey O’Grady herself brought out the relish plate (two hummus cups, celery, gruyere cheese puffs, deviled eggs) and that was followed by the traditional entree of turkey roasted with orange, cornbread stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts and finished off with pecan pie and vanilla ice cream.

I ate about half of the feast and took the rest home for further transport to the farm later. I enjoyed drinking with the staff at the bar, and Chanteuse Mary and Old Jim came in for a few pops after dining with friends across town, and as the kitchen shut down, the staff joined all for holiday decompression on our side of the bar.

Not bad. And the Lions surprised me by beating the Packers. It must have something to do with the ISON, the comet of the century, impacting the Sun.

We luxuriated in some excellent wine as the gang oozed fellowship. Before Tex got the taps installed for the draft craft beer, Willow was a wine bar. It had not started out that way- the old keg system at the prior incarnation of the restaurant- Gaffney’s was simply too big for Tracey’s needs and the stock went bad, so she pulled it.

Anyway, Willow is known for its superb wine list, not that I know much about those sorts of things. I drink anything they will bring me at the loss-leader happy hour price. But I have to go along with the façade that I know something about it.

A pal wrote about plans for the holiday dinner, making a recommendation for a real fine: a lovely French wine from the Pyrenees… A 2009 Cuvee de Pena Vin de Pays Pyrenees Orientales. “It goes beautifully with everything! The best part is that I paid only $9.99/bottle for it! So good, in fact that I went back to buy a case. I truly do not understand how the wine can be grown, harvested, aged, bottled and shipped to the U.S. and still cost only $9.99/bottle. It’s amazing!”

I served it to wine drinking friends who think nothing of spending $100/bottle of wine… they kept sipping and pouring more, sipping and pouring more, truly savoring the wine. Finally, they declared that this tasted as good or better than the California wine that he paid $75/bottle for, and he asked for details on the wine because he knows I don’t pay a lot for wine… I didn’t have the heart to tell him how little it cost. But it’s a wonderful, soft, and very food-friendly wine. “

I made a note of it, in case the Class Six store ever shows up with a stray bottle, though I confess that it is much easier for Willow to maintain my wine cellar and let Traey and Tex do the heavy lifting.

But in the run-up to the holidays, another pal brought up the topic of the other end of the wine list- maybe better put, the dead end of the road.

We are all pretty fancy-dancy about our oenological skills in these decadent days at the end of the Republic, and can spout that “oaky fruit notes with a dry finish” like we mean it. There was a time when we would just say “that isn’t too bad.”

You may or may not remember the days when wine was not the mainstream of American drinking. Think back, if you can, to college days. The good stuff that we knew about was limited to Mateus and Blue Nun, or the Chianti that the spaghetti restaurants used to sell with Italian dinners and pizza.

The attempt to popularize wine with younger (and underage) drinkers involved bizarre fruity concoctions like Boone’s Farm and Annie Greensprings, the thought of which to this day makes me feel a little bilious.

In trying to bring back those memories and brands, I came across a list of the five worst commercial wines in America, and on a morning when we are collectively resolving never to eat again, I thought I would share a review of the worst one, with great appreciation to my friends at Bumwine.com:

Cisco
18% alc. by vol- 38 proof

Cisco is bottled by the nation’s second largest wine company, Constellation Brands, at Canandaigua, NY and Naples, NY, second only to the Robert Gallo Jug Wine concern. It is the same company that produces the exceptional Wild Irish Rose vintages.

Known as “liquid crack,” for its reputation for wreaking more mental havoc than the cheapest tequila. Something in this syrupy hooch seems to have a synapse-blasting effect not unlike low-grade cocaine. The label insists that the ingredients are merely “citrus wine & grape wine with artificial flavor & artificial color,” but anyone who has tried it knows better.

Tales of Cisco-induced semi-psychotic fits are common.

Often, people on a Cisco binge end up curled into a fetal ball, shuddering and muttering paranoid rants. Nudity and violence may well be involved too. Everyone who drinks this feels great at first, and claims, “It’s not bad at all, I like it.”

But, you really do not want to mess around with this one, because they all sing a different tune a few minutes later. And by tune, I mean the psychotic ramblings of a raging naked bum.

In 1991, Cisco’s tendency to cause a temporary form of inebriated insanity led the Federal Trade Commission to require its bottlers to print a warning on the label.

The FTC also forced them to drop their marketing slogan, “Takes You by Surprise,” even though it was entirely accurate. Since those days, Cisco is harder to find outside the slums, although the FTC’s demonizing of the drink only bolstered its reputation for getting people trashed.

Anyone who overlooks the warning and confuses this with a casual wine cooler is going to get more than they bargained for.

Cisco will make a new man out of you. And he will want some too.

Our research shows that Cisco is actually the second best tasting of the five great bum wines, especially if you’re having one of those hankerings for cheap Vodka, Jello and Robitussin.

Cisco also is the best of all 5 bum wines at putting the darkest and puffiest bags under your eyes.

The nuclear-tinted color of “Cisco RED” is reminiscent of the delicate color of diesel fuel.

Most Cisco flavors are named by the fruit flavor that they are trying to emulate, but the one picture is simply called “RED.” This chemical disaster will get your head spinning in no time.

A test subject reports, “Strawberry Cisco has a bouquet similar to that of Frankenberry cereal fermented in wine cooler with added sprinkle of brandy for presentation.” The sticky, sickeningly sweet taste with a hint of antifreeze really comes through in the repellant taste of Cisco.

Available in various flavors, 375 mL and 750mL sizes. Down a whole 750 ml and you had better be ready to clear your calendar as you suffer through Cisco’s legendary two-day hangover.

Bon appetite!

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com