mondosapore

Sarah Palin: Good or bad for wine?

Like me, I'm sure you were astonished at John MCain's VP pick.  Granted, after the "How many houses have you got" gaffe, he couldn't pick Romney (way too tall for him anyway).  The two of them could house the entire population of Equatorial Guinea at their various properties. 

Tina Fey look-alike and First Dude

Tom Pawlenty of Minnesota?  Governor, sorry, your foreign-affairs resume is a bit thin, and you're no match for Joe Biden.  Enter the brilliant, counter-intuitive stroke, Sarah Palin.  A Biden-killer, maybe an Obama-slayer, if I ever saw one.  Her resume is impressive indeed for a self-described "hockey mom."  Consider:

1. She's pro-life.  Everyone knows that Biden is pro-death.

2. She was mayor of Wasilla. Senator Biden, have you ever run a town of 7000 rifle-toting Skidoo owners?

3. She's an Evangelical Christian.  Joe, your Catholicism is a decadent cult, and Jesus would cast you out of the temple.

4. She hunts.  (See #2.)

5. She's been Governor of the great state of Alaska, the 49th State, for eighteen months. Senator, your role in crafting legislation for 36 years in the hothouse world of Washington, next to Bin-Laden's hideout the most hateful place on earth, is piddling in comparison.

6. She taxed oil companies and is doling out $1200 to each Alaskan just for being Alaskan.  Take that, you tax-and-spend welfare-enabling pissant.

7. She wants to drill for more oil in the federalized wilderness areas of her state.  It's about ending dependence on foreign oil, not oil itself.  Oil is good.

8. She is a dedicated environmentalist.  Who would love Alaska's environment to warm up even more so she could point with pride at reducing Alaskans' heating bills.

9. She took on corrupt cronyism in Juneau and won.  She's rolling up her sleeves and is set to do the same in DC, if that's what a Vice President does.  (She's a little unsure.  So's her boss.)

10. She has a First Dude.  That Todd -- her husband, her high-school sweetheart who is part-Eskimo -- looks like one party animal.  Take that, Jill Biden.

These are just the top ten reasons why she's the perfect VP candidate for McCain.  Oh and the fact that she has agreed not to wear high heels when she's in the same room with him.

A little appreciated fact about Sarah Palin is that she loves her wine.  And as governor of her state, she has had some impressive initiatives under development for some time (6 months! a third of her time in office!), which by dint of might and main, I managed to mine from her in a telephone interview conducted at 11 pm Eastern Time.

So many tears: RSgate

I must thank Tom Wark and a legion of commenters (85 89 comments so far, many more to come) for not allowing me to leave the laptop all this livelong day.  Or for not allowing this Rodney Strong - Good Grape experiment in coordinated wine-reviewing to die.  I don't really believe any great breach in ethics or propriety was actually committed, but I tell you it's been fascinating to read the range of opinions and feel the heat of emotion that the thread has ignited.  Tom's post (was it only yesterday?) hit the collective nerve in a big way.  Why?

As far as I understand it, this is what happened.  (Jump in here and correct me if I'm wrong.)

1. Jeff at Good Grape wanted to conduct an experiment, to see if a coordinated, limited-time wine-reviewing program would have any effect on sales and/or the treatment of said wine in the mainstream print media.  (See his and others' recent comments on GG here.) He placed no constraints on the content of the piece or judgment of the wine.

2. Jeff solicited a list of bloggers that he picked, paying out the parameters of the effort: a commitment to review the wine (a new release by Rodney Strong) in order

Pericolo! Driving in Sicily

I posted the other day, asking for advice on where to go in Sicily.  I've so far received two long, informative and harrowing comments from Thor Iverson of Oenologic.  I wanted to make sure everyone read them, because they are so entertaining.

Here's the first one about where to go and what to see.

Occhipinti in Sicily. (Don't fall in love.) Her dad & his partners at COS. Frank Cornelissen. (Bring your wallet.)

Caffe Sicilia (corso Vittorio Emanuele, 125) is an artisanal gelato and cannoli place in Noto that you absolutely will not believe; the gelati are from things foraged the day before by the proprietor, and the cannoli will make you forget every other cannolo you've ever experienced (except perhaps the one in The Godfather).

Maurì (via Tagliamento, 22) in Portopalo di Capo Passero, just for the antipasti.

Erice, for at least a night (the thing is the sleep there, but maybe not try to drive or park there). Eat at Monte San Giuliano (vicolo San Rocco, 7) for the fish cous-cous.

Definitely a meal at Cantina Siciliana (via Giudecca, 36) in Trapani, especially for the octopus.

Bartoli in Marsala. Piazza Armerina. All of the Greek temples you can find time to see. Taormina, but only with the right (touristy) expectations. Palermo, of course. The basilica in Cefalu. Mt. Etna on a clear day (one out of ten).

Hire a driver. Don't drive. DO NOT DRIVE.

I asked why he advised one not to drive in such strong terms.  Here is his reply.  It's both hilarious and daunting.

We were rear-ended (by an Aston-Martin) within five hours of our arrival. While stopped at railroad tracks. With an oncoming train well within sight.

There are no lights or stop signs in many towns; if you honk first, you get to go, unless you don't. And unless you're on a Vespa. People drive with their side mirrors folded in (which you will also do), because there's no way to drive down streets or even on freeways without those inches of extra horizontal room. Impossibly twisty one-lane roads are, of course, four-lane roads as used by Sicilians. And, naturally, they're high-speed four-lane roads.

We were almost run off the cliff by a Lamborghini (high enough for a full thirty seconds before our fiery death) on the way up to Erice. Thank God for his turning radius.

We waited 25 minutes to merge at an intersection in Palermo...in light traffic. I'm not exaggerating. And no one was even honking at us, because it's apparently completely normal to wait that long. If we'd been willing to have a crushed front fender, of course, we could have gone at any time. Take a look at coaches and limos there, and they all have them.

We returned the rental car full of scratches and dents, and were told they were completely normal for Sicilian rentals and we wouldn't be charged, as long as the Aston-Martin guy drove an hour and a half to Catania and handed over his insurance info. (Which, thankfully, he did.)

Driving in any other part of Italy is to driving in Sicily as driving in rural Kansas is to driving a cab on the leading edge of a Manhattan rush hour.

The Sicilians were wonderful, warm people, and we enjoyed each and every one of them. Until they got behind the wheel of a car. At which point they all drove like they had one-inch penises. And I mean that affectionately, of course. ;-)

 

Oh my God. 

Thank you, Thor.  I think.

Obama, President

Skinny is finally our official Democratic candidate.  Just happened.  I'm kvelling.  It's not only a historic moment, it's a hopeful one. 

Now -- sharpen up your message, Barry. 

WINE BLOGGERS ON THE TAKE!

Do I have your attention? 

(Always the high road, Strappo.)

There is incipient insurgency in Winebloggistan concerning the Rodney Strong initiative to garner reviews for their new release:   one blogger got some other bloggers (here are two, click and click) to accept samples from the California winery and to agree to review the wine within a certain period of time.  Tom Wark, for one, has raised some excellent questions regarding journalistic ethics and blogging.  The comments have been many and thought-provoking.  And, frankly, a stink over accepting samples, under any conditions, is pretty academic to me, since I don't receive review samples, ever.  (Any samples I get are ones that I've spent a few grand scouring Italy to acquire.)

But a recurring theme in both Tom's post and in the comments is that, one fine day, we the wretched refuse of the wine-communication shores will be the peers of the esteemed journalists of the mainstream, print-based wine press.  Color me eccentric for finding this a dubious honour indeed.  Since I'm such a pop-off and deep deep deep cynic, I couldn't help myself.  I wrote, in part:

... I wonder at the dominant assumption here, that we wine bloggers want so very much to be regarded as valid peers of the mainstream wine press. Do we really? Is that the future of wine blogging -- to be in the gentle vinous grip of a relatively small number of large wine producers/distributors/importers? Junketed and fed in far-flung places? More of their house "journalists" -- just in a different medium?

Oh, I can see the future of wine blogging now!  And I have to say that I don't find it at all pretty.

Or is cynicism discoloring my vision?

 

Memorability

Sometimes you drink a wine that rivets your attention as you drink it.  It opens you up to new possibilities not only of taste and character but of a region or a grape.  Or, in this case, a blend of grapes. A blend of some grapes, indeed, which I have recently scorned.  (Love it, folks: me hoisted on me own petard.)

I first had this wine just about a year ago at the urging of Gabrio Tosti of De Vino on the Lower East Side.  I loved it and wrote about it on these hallowed digital pages. 

I've had it several times since then, and each time I've been impressed by the wine's depth and complexity -- at a moderate price.  It also does a fair amount to rehabilitate the lowly reputation of wine from Latium, which is too often identified only with the inconsequential wines of Frascati in the trattorias of Rome.

Further, a friend had a big birthday a few month ago and with Gabrio's help I put together an all-Italian wine list for the party.  This white was a big part of the order, and I hear it was a very big hit with the guests -- people who are usually, I think, more comfortable with French wine than with Italian.

This wine is composed of a blend of 50% Verdicchio, 25% Trebbiano Toscano and 25% Grechetto.  It has just 12.5% alcohol, which makes the wine mild and easy to drink on its own or with food; and it has a specially deep, almost nutty flavour that calls to mind the Arbois gems of Jacques Puffeney. The colour is correspondingly deep and golden, and perhaps a tad cloudy.  The farm is run on organic principles, with the wine's seeing minimal sulphur or filtration.  This is as far from an "international" or standardized wine as you can imagine.  At the same time, I do not believe that it's an acquired taste, as my friends' responses told me.

Any guesses as to the identity of this wine?  I did post something about it. 

Hint: the son of a very well-regarded winemaker from central Italy is the enologo behind this one.  Bravo!

Where I haven't been

In Italy, I mean.  I've been to most of the country's 20 (21?) regions.  I haven't been to Val d'Aosta.  Calabria.  Sicily.  Sardinia.  I like the wines from Aosta but I wouldn't want to go there in winter.  Sicily and Sardinia?  Oh yes I would love to go there.  Everyone raves about Sicily, and I love Sicilian food (not those heavy desserts though) and the native grapes are really promising, whites in particular, though I've always had a weakness for Frappato on its own or blended with Nero d'Avola.

So if you have any suggestions about where to go and who to see in Sicily and Sardinia, email me.  I'd hope to go there in March or even a little earlier. 

Grazie mille.

Joe Biden, Vice President

For the record, and I'm sure you're all sitting there with 'bated breath, I'm thrilled skinny about Obama's pick of Joe Biden as running mate.  He's brilliant, he's experienced in foreign affairs, he's not bellicose, he's real, sometimes too much so for the Pouncing Classes in the "news" media and other such vile circles, and as we have been told 8245 times in the past 36 hours, he takes a commuter train home every night to his one acknowledged house in dreary old Wilmington, Delaware.  OK, in a nice neighborhood real close to Wilmington. 

Furthermore, as has been noted here, he has a really successful hair transplant thing going on.  (This too has been a recent search meme on mondosapore.  I knew he was the VP pick a week ago when those searches started popping up all the time.)  That alone makes Joe rather special.

Seriously, folks, Obama and McCain Biden are a formidable team.  [Sorry, maurdel.  I really am an asshole, a careless one!]. Both hugely intelligent, both men of substance and vision, despite the reflexive honking of the Canada geese of the right.  (They fly in, take over and shit everything up.) By comparison McCain seems like a slightly dim old uncle who bores the hell out of everyone with his ancient war stories.  Gripping and brave, but enough already.  That was then and this is now, gramps.

I am dismayed by the obsessive, vociferous and ultimately incomprehensible attachment of Hillary Clinton supporters to their tragic heroine, to the point where they claim they'd rather vote for McCain rather than sully their whatever (boundaries of unreality?) by voting for the candidate of their party.  Classic example of American stupidity; we've excelled at voting against our own best interests lately. 

Well, fine.  Let them march in their sensible shoes.  I have another take on this superduper pairing of Obama and Biden.  I invoke the old Fred and Ginger analogy: Obama gives Joe class, Joe gives Obama sex. 

Wait.  I see Fox News has already Googled this one.  Ooops...

Searches in Memeland

Lately there's been a groundswell of searches to mondosapore for Silvana Mangano -- from all over the world, not just or mainly Italy.  She has vanquished Liev Schreiber.

I don't know about you other bloggers, but I get characteristic searches from different countries.  From Britain, it's about restaurants in Italy or living in France or Italy. 

The Chinese are very focused on wine, especially info about particular grapes or regions. 

The Canadians and the Germans want to know about specific producers.

Scandinavians want pictures of sunny locales by the sea. 

Turks want to know about Turkish wine. 

Iranians search on "Terence, this is stupid stuff", seeming to use this humble site to access a forbidden world. 

From Saudi Arabia come the searches on fat girls and certain man-on-man activities.  Viva Wahhabism.

Apotheosis Now!

The first three Parts (One, Two, & Three) of this precis of a life transformed by wine, centering on the highly fictionalized "I" of self-regarding and perjuring autobiographical convention, dealt with "my" early conversion to pagan Italy, "my" ruinous fat-cat success as an importer and "my" quest to retrieve oenic authenticity and achieve ultimate felicity. 

Wait -- I have to stop a moment and admire the polysyllabic succinctness of this one-sentence summary. 

OK.  Go:

In the fourth and final Part, "I" find the meaning, the joy and the peace "I" had always sought.  With loose ends for a big-budget sequel.

National drinking age

If you haven't read it already, you should check out Tom Wark's excellent editorial on the drinking age of 21 and its moral incomprehensibility in the face of war.  Not to mention its very spotty enforcement. 

Tom takes on the formidable MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving), who like all zealots began a justifiably enraged movement against an extreme (drunk driving) and ended up by becoming extremists of the shrillest kind.

As I sit here in New York, preparing for a couple of days to visit my daughter in Richmond "Capital of the Confederacy" Virginia, I note how often underage people are served in this toddlin' town, especially, I assume, when they are with gray-haired oldsters.  A 20-year-old NYU student?  Only the best for her -- she knows half the sommeliers in town anyway.  A 15-year-old French kid?  No one blinks at serving him beers with his Thai dinner. Not all young people are as charming and responsible as these kids, but many are. 

Here's an idea that may pacify MADD and give kids a break: Lower the drinking age to 16, raise the driving age to 18 -- or 20 -- with a special licence if they drive an electric car.  That'd please the Sierra Club too.

Gosh, it feels good to propose a world-improving solution to a cluster of big problems while I'm still sipping at my morning coffee.

What ARE Strappo's Top Ten Italian Grapes?

Somewhat redundant perhaps, but here's my attempt to set the record straight and quell the cavilling of my faithful blogfriends.  I am listing my FAVORITE Italian grape varieties.  And on the continuation page I'm going to list my 10 UNfavorites, prominent among which will be the ones I mentioned the other day. 

My criterion is a simple one: Which grapes do I feel -- I, me, personally, individual defects and prejudices and habits all acknowledged -- are the ten best and worst of the native Italian varieties.  These lists are in no particular order.  But maybe there is an implied order in sequence in which they come to me.

TOP TEN

Aglianico
Greco di Tufo
Ribolla Gialla
Sangiovese
Fiano
Nebbiolo
Schioppettino
Freisa
Tintore
Marzemino

And the Ten of Shame and Ignominy...?

Why Campania is my beat

One of them at least.

I appreciate all your comments about Campanian and southern wines in general.  I wish I had more time to write a lengthy post, even a disquisition on why I'm so high on Campania and, less loftily, the Mezzogiorno in general.

Some of you pointed out that Campania is an ecological disaster.  Certainly in the provinces of Napoli and Caserta there are large areas of devastation; after all, they are part of a vast metropolitan complex that stretches all the way to Salerno.  Those intensely industrialized and overbuilt areas of the region are indeed a horror.  But to imply that the entire region is a dump is to equate New Jersey with the environmental and urban disasters you see from the Turnpike.  A great deal of the Garden State is beautiful, clean and well-preserved, or conserved.  Likewise, Campania is a complex, varied place.  Go into the Avellino hills and close by the border with Basilicata and you'll see what I mean.

As to the wine scene, I'm not concerned with the masses of producers of shitty, cheap, often adulterated wine.  I'm not thinking about "industrial" wine of any kind, which is no more characteristic of Campania than it is of Veneto or Tuscany.  I'm thinking about what they call the nuove realtà -- the "new realities" or "new developments" -- that are surging in the hinterlands of Irpinia and elsewhere.  Whether it's in Luciano Pignataro's highly informative little book Nuova Guida ai Vini della Campania, L'Irpinia or the Gambero Rosso, a frequent sentence is "so-and-so produced grapes for the local co-op until 2003 when he decided to bottle his own wine," etc.  In other words, there are plenty of newer wineries, usually on small family farms with ancient vines, that aspire to reach or surpass the levels of quality achieved by Mastroberardino and a few other of the best "old-guard" producers.

A key element in all of this is the role of a journalist like

Vitigni buoni cattivi e brutti

The good, the bad and the ugly of grapes.

The lively give-and-take of the past few days has stimulated me a great deal.  It's crystallized some things for me, some leanings and preferences that have actually shaped my activities over the past 8-12 months.

I wrote a long time ago on this blog that "salvezza viene dal Sud" ("Salvation is from the South.")  Based then on what I observed in New York regarding the new popularity of wines of the Mezzogiorno (especially Sicily and Campania), my growing personal experience of and exposure to the wines and winemakers of the South has only deepened this conviction.  Added to which, I've found that I have a profound attraction to the landscape, people, food and wines of the Mezzogiorno.  And I believe very strongly that the South, led by Campania and latterly Sicily, is about to enter a Golden Age of wine, and of wine-and-food.  Both are changing rapidly and improving greatly.  I've written extensively of these things (as here and here), and I am just one voice in this chorus (see here and here.)

Campania, to be sure, has its share of international varieties (Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon) planted and its own native grapes which aren't excessively compelling (Casavecchia), but it's got endlessly fascinating, protean grapes like Aglianico and Fiano, not to mention the wonderful Greco di Tufo.  These vitigni make wines of high quality from a variety of terroirs, ones as different as the cold-winter uplands of Avellino and the mild coastal zones of Salerno and the Cilento. In the right hands all are valid and all are highly pleasing.

Paradoxically, one of Campania's major advantages in terms of both food and wine is that it never suffered the extremes of industrialization of more progressive, richer regions like Veneto and Lombardy.  Its backwardness is now viewed as a blessing.  While producers usually

Italian varieties that leave you cold

Yesterday was my day to ask you what grape varieties from Italy that you thought might become the Next Big Thing.  I'm feeling crummy today -- the bronchitis and the antibiotic are duking it out inside my body -- so allow me to indulge in a little crankiness.  So today's audience participation segment is called "Italy's Crappiest Varieties" (ICV).

 

Photo: How do you say "yucky" in Italian?

What, in your experience, are the worst grapes that Italy has on offer?

I think I should ask you to exclude Pinot Grigio, which is everyone's favorite grape to sneer at, whether you're in Italy or among American wine geeks.  Though I have to tell you that there are even more characterless white wine grapes from the Bel Paese in my opinion.

Or perhaps, in a bow to my friend Gianpaolo Paglia, we are indeed talking about terroirs and their expression, which are often distorted and misrepresented by substandard vineyard and cellar practices, all of which serve to give a grape a bad name. 

With that in mind, I will reveal my biases up front this time. 

For me ICVs among whites are Verdicchio, and Trebbiano, any Trebbiano.  Sure sure, there are some good examples of each (Bucci!).  But, really, the exceptions are so exceptional that they prove my point.

Among the reds I have a very hard time with the pride-and-joy grapes of Puglia, Primitivo and especially Negroamaro and the truly disgusting Uva di Troia.  How much of this is due to inherent quality defects and how much to viticulture and winemaking practices, I can't say. 

Sorry, folks, that's what I think; please don't waste your digitation commenting what an uninformed stronzo I am.  After all, it's just my opinion, not holy writ.

What are your nominations for ICV?

Your excellent comments and examples of awful Italian grapes have made my reconsider me selections.  See continuation.

The next big thing? In grapes?

Attenzione, ragazzi!

Dr. Debs has raised an interesting question on Good Wine for Under $20.  To whit:

Which grapes will be the Next Big Thing?  One red and one white.

As a Californian (she's a good person despite that), she posits Petite Sirah [sic] and Viognier or Albariño.  I'm not so sure about the PS, but she made a pretty decent call with the Viognier and Albariño, in my 'umble opinion. 

But since this blog is allegedly about Italian wine, let's think in terms of Italia.  So, in the spirit of good bloggership or something, let me ask youse guys, what do YOUSE think will be the Next Big Thing in Italian grapes? 

As always, I have my opinions, but I will keep them to myself for a while. 

Hint:  Salvezza viene dal Sud.  Salvation comes from the South 

Rome or Milan?

I just posed a question on Twitter in which I asked "Is Los Angeles really so much worse than San Francisco?"  There were two immediate replies from two of my favorite Twitterholics, Doug Cook of Able Grape and Dr. Debs of Good Wine Under $20.   

In the spirit of Ferragosto, I pose the same question in Italian terms:

Is Rome so much worse than Milan?

I pose this way because the rap on Rome is that it is "caotica" and the center of the widely despised government (whoever is in power), while Milan is the go-ahead business center of the Italy that works.

I have my own opinions here, but I'll keep them to myself.  For now.

What do you all think -- is Rome really so much worse than Milan?

For that matter, is LA really all that much worse than San Francisco?

 

Alcatraz photo from www.whewell-clarke.net/photos/alcatraz.jpg

LA Photo from http://thebeebox.typepad.com/

European vacations

August 15.  Ferragosto.  The big official summer holiday.  All of Italy is on vacation.  All of Europe is on vacation.  Except maybe the Georgians, and I don't want to be mean, but are they really in Europe? 

Anyway, nothing is getting done in Italy.  Rare the emails, rare the phone calls, even rarer getting anyone to perform their professional specialty, eg, printing labels or shipping samples.  I realize that when we in America threw out the Blue Laws we lost all sense of the differentness of Sundays and holidays, but they more than make up for our compulsive grubbing over there.  A happy medium, anybody?

Art: "Dolce Far Niente".  She's been that way for 2 weeks already.

Enough with Mr. Glass Half Empty.  Hello, Mr. Glass Half Full.

The euro continues to weaken against the USD.  It's at the halfway point between its recent high and its 52-week low.  I'm betting on a war in Georgia that would severely impede delivery of Russian oil to the EU.  Good for the dollar, good for America.  Or at least good for European-wine imports.

Or this latest conflagration in the Caucasus is an early sign of the unraveling of the knit-together global order, as Paul Krugman suggests in today's Times.  Bad for me, bad for the world.  I think. (I'm no No Global but I have my reservations about it all too.)

Meanwhile, even as the dollar rises, the streets, stores and restaurants of New York are jammed with skinny-jeaned vacationing Europeans exclaiming in French, Italian, German and Russian how cheap everything was at Saks.  Good for Saks, depressing for the rest of us.

What else?  Oh, the weather is murky and muggy, not great for vacations.  I pity, with a shiver of schadenfreude, anyone who spent $40-50K for a rental in the Hamptons.

Sorry I can't report on the glorious wines I've been drinking and the fancy restos I've been dining at.  Sort of broke and, I don't know, it's the middle of August, and even if you aren't on vacation, your mind kind of takes one anyway.

Happy Ferragosto.

Quickie: Zereoue

I met Wolfgang Weber, owner of spume, for lunch yesterday at a place I found on Menupages.  He wanted to meet near the Empire State Building, so I obliged.  I was so glad -- this place on E. 37th Street was lovely and very reasonably priced.  A real find.

Zereoue is the brainchild of a former NFL running back Amos Zereoue, a native of the Ivory Coast, and the food reflects both France and West Africa in delicious ways.

The space is lovely and the subject of some discussion in the mainstream media.  The staff was welcoming and most attentive, no doubt because we wre the only two people here for lunch.  The hostess said, "You're lucky.  It's very busy at dinner."  I sure hope so, because the food was wonderful.  For lunch I had a sensational 2-course prix fixe ($17!!) consisting of an omelette aux fines herbes that was worthy of Paris and then a huge curry chicken salad that we both ate and couldn't begin to finish.  The flavors were lively and the food was both colorful and different enough to command attention. 

New Yorkers, go to this place.  The price is right and so is the food -- a marvellous blend of two traditions.

13 E. 37th St. (between 5th and Madison)

212-679-9355

www.zereoue.com

The world keeps getting smaller...

...and the inventories ever longer. 

Yesterday on the Wine & Spirits Daily blog we saw the announcement of the merger of Southern and Glazers, two major wine and spirits distributors in the US.  They will now form one behemoth -- the largest distribution company in the country -- with thousands of wine labels needing attention from an army of salespeople.  You have to wonder how the smaller wineries will fare with even more competition for the time and energy of the sales force. 

Consolidation always takes place in times of fear and scarcity.