Now in the scale of things, I am probably something of a vinegar freak, relatively speaking. I find the vinegar-tastings at Williams-Sonoma more tantalizing than the olive-oil-tastings, I prefer a ratio of 3 or 4 parts vinegar to one part olive oil on my salads, and when my father brought home a bottle of real balsamic vinegar, I thought it was delicious sipped straight.

All of that said, I was still quite blown away by the tastiness of Minus 8 vinegar, which is made from frozen grapes (and therefore avoids losing a drop of extra flavor). My father and I sat down to just taste a bit after a local source procured him a bottle and we went through about four small glasses a piece. (But very small glasses).

The only problem is that it's so yummy I'm not quite sure what one would do with it other than sip it straight. Dave Tallent advocates putting a bit on the pate that he serves; another Tallent's customer is rumored to keep a bottle at the bar so she can order vinegar and soda as a non-alcoholic cocktail. I suspect it would also be delicious drizzled on Tallent's corn soup, which is already one of the yummiest things I have tasted in recent memory.

Anyway, Minus 8 isn't currently available for retail sale, but if you can snag a bottle, do.

A question occurred to me during my musings yesterday on Frank Sinatra's good and bad Duets CDs. What accounts for the relevant dominance of Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and (to a lesser extent) Louis Armstrong among today's relatively unsophisticated music fans? This isn't meant either to deride popular taste or to second it, but in restaurant soundtracks, shopping malls, the sales racks at Borders and Starbucks and similar venues, I've seen a lot of Sinatra, Ella, and Louis, but the supply of Sarah Vaughn, Peggy Lee, Dean Martin, and Mel Torme is scant. Are Ella and Frank really that much better?

Maybe so-- I certainly own a dozen or two CDs starring one of those two-- but I also sometimes crave Anita O'Day.

Judge Posner, in the NYT Book Review section, on the 9/11 report. Both readable and convincing, as (almost) always. [Posner blogs about his own review here.]

I don't know how I missed, till today, this Ruth Franklin piece about Milosz, in which she declares her particular affection (also mine) for much of Milosz's late work, and includes what I think is the full text of his poem "An Honest Description of Myself With a Glass of Whiskey at an Airport, Let Us Say, In Minneapolis."