Don't ask for it by name...
Ask for it by region
Clint Eastood's BeltSpain has always had a cowboy image for me. Maybe it started with Sergio Leone and the Clint Eastwood westerns which, while Italian, were shot in Spain. I also like that Spain is regional with blonde, blue eyed bag pipe players in the north and the more standard Spainard in the south. I've never been to Spain but when I go -- This is where I'm going...
Montsant. Remember that. It's an area of northern Spain that wraps around the Priorat region. Five years ago my NYC foodie buddy and client introduced me to Priorat wines. Big mothers that were unique and cheap and perfect for smoked meat tapas. Word got out about Priorat and prices have soared. You find a bargain. Word gets out. The old distributor gets fired. The wine disappears for a year and a new distributor brings it back at four times what you were paying for it.
Montsant is still a secret. Most people who work in wine don't know it but be assured they will. My NYC foodie buddy turned me onto these wines last Summer. Fantastic reds for $15 to $25. Big and earthy and easy to drink. I don't even decant. Like the Priorats, these are bang on with meat. Big steaks, winter stews, smoked meats, bean soups and anything else that lacks subtlety like BBQ ribs and rack of lamb. I recommend calling wine stores and asking for anything from Montsant. Anything! If they know it and have it --you're in luck and not in Ft Wayne.
Basket weave belts always remind me of the Sam Browne rig I had as a deputy sheriff. But basket weave in this tan reminds me of the American west, Justin boots, a gas station in Amarillo with nothing but pancake flat around it. Clint Eastwood's character wore this belt when he stepped off the helicopter on top of the Pan Am building in Coogan's Bluff. If he didn't he should have. $30 for a suede lined belt made by Triple K in San Diego. You can't beat that with a stick.
It's regional to be sure. At home out west or in the south east and just like Coogan it's refreshing to see it here in NYC. Something out of place but telling in it's simplicity and charm. Nothing Gucci 'G' or Hermes 'H' screaming from a man's crotch. Just a simple and quiet, "Yes, ma'am."
