Monday, September 10, 2018


I'm not quite sure when it happened. Yet
somehow, some way, some time I started
to require what I now consider my "daily
minimum requirement." Like it or not,
I can't seem to survive a day sans at least
one or two or three glasses of a good vin
rouge. Apparently many others also suffer
from the same malady, compulsion, or
latent addiction. Thus whether most of us
care to admit it or not, having a bit of the
fruit of the vine in necessary. It just seems
to make our days go faster and our nights
even better. I'll drink to that, will you?
Over achiever
There was a time when I really didn't like
drinking wine. Whether my palate was
too immature or improperly educated,
I found the stuff more than distasteful.
However slowly I developed a taste for
the stuff and since then can't get enough.
There's something rather magical in how
a proper vintage enhances one's culinary
explorations. At this point I've actually
become a bit of a snob when it comes to
the vintners art. Hence I've become quite
fluent in French and Italian and Spanish.
Wines... that is...
A foreign affair
Whether one wants to admit it or not -
I simply don't think domestic wines
are as good as those that travel across
the pond. Well, actually that's not true.
There are some domestic vintages that
even this connoisseur can reluctantly
embrace. The problem is that for some
reason anything decent coming from
California, Oregon, or Washington
costs an absolute fortune. So why
would I blow my wad locally when
I can have more for less - imported.
Yet I hate to add to the trade deficit!
Toast of the town
In the old days all I did was walk over
to Sherry Lehman on Park to buy my
booze. Not only did I enjoy the expert
advice, they had things I couldn't find
just anywhere. The good news is they
ship to Montana for free. However I
prefer to satisfy my thirst for fermented
fruit locally. Even if our local boozery
knows nada about vino. Ignorance still
is bliss as they can can get me almost
anything I want. It may cost a buck or
so more per bottle to buy "locally." But
I like to keep my cash close to home.
White out
Red is my preference after five. For
lunch my libation of choice is a dry,
crisp FRENCH chablis. But that's
where my white line is drawn. Most
ladies adore a bit of the bubbly but
honestly, I fizzle out at the thought.
Who can explain why I don't like
Champagne or Asti or Cava?! Not
only does it NOT tickle my nose it
most certainly isn't going to prompt
my fancy. So Bubbles - please don't
attempt to pop my cork by pouring
it on... it flat out won't work.
Over and out
At this point Most of you have come to
the conclusion that I'm rambling. Thus
I must confess that I've had a busy day.
I didn't begin to write this missive until
well past nine o'clock in the evening.
Which means that I'd already dined and
had a few glasses of wine. Oddly once
I've imbibed I seem to become all the
more wiser than I ever thought I could
be. Of course that's subject to opinion
and given Frank just shakes his head
and leaves me in my cups... no wonder
this blog runneth over. Good night!