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However, there are a couple of white varietals that give me fits because I find that I’m always comparing them to their French counterparts.
My Aunt Joyce and I would visit the Hilton regularly for a girls’ weekend away, and she is the source of one of the funniest “I’ve had too much to drink oh god let me die” stories ever.
I was raised in a beer and spirits environment (North Philly isn’t exactly known for its wine culture), but when I discovered wine, I was hooked and fell madly in love.
I know this is hard to believe, but I reviewed another white wine under screwcap. No, I haven’t lost my mind. Arguable, arguable. I got it.
I could actually hear my wine turning to grape jelly as I waited in that hot, smelly mess.
It was comfortable enough in the shade, but the shade was rapidly retreating. Fortunately, it’s a dry heat. Not unlike a blowtorch.
I will not hug a tree, become a vegan, or give up my SUV, but I can passionately promote the use of natural cork in wines.
I would love to be able to enjoy the 98+ point wines, but no wine shops have layaway.
Whether you’re visiting San Francisco, Santa Barbara, Hollywood, the OC, or San Diego, there’s always something to dazzle the eyes and to spark the romantic imagination.
My happy over-achiever psyche is gnashing because I really do want to know where I finished. I’m used to 90s and above, so this makes me crazy. But don’t get me wrong…I passed! I’m happy!
Have a wonderful and safe Memorial Day weekend holiday, and never forget that those with boots on the ground are why we can do what we do today. I mean, look at Russia. Few freedoms and crappy wine.
It’s still about a month and a half away, and that makes me feel like a child waiting for Santa. Oh. Wait…