“Oh!” said a friend of mine with whom I’d shared my decision, “you’re going to become a sommelier!” Well, maybe. It’s on the list. This is where my OCD kicks in. It’s what I call my “While I’m At It” plan.
This isn’t a just-for-fun extension class where friends and I gather to learn about wine in a more-or-less social setting, but a real, read-100-pages-study-till-your-eyes-bleed-stress-over-midterms-and-finals college class.
On the nose I detected a whiff of watermelon interspersed with strawberries and beach. Yeah, beach. Think northern California beach, early morning, breezy and cool. Just a whiff of *that.*
While I walked out of VSJ without joining the club, that was by the thinnest of margins and utilizing a willpower I didn’t know I had.
I didn’t think it was possible, but this show makes the great Alton Brown, a self-deprecating, incredibly gifted, and spontaneous, intelligent chef, look like a jerk. He’s become the Chuck Barris of the Foodie set.
What I mean by “easy” is I can say more stuff than I can write. At least I can say more stuff that people may actually listen to than they will read. In theory, that is.
Alex gave me a look and said, “You lost him?!? With THAT hat?!?” And it’s been an ongoing inside chuckle ever since!
I’ve also discovered that dried pink grapefruit peel (recipe experiment) has the fragrance of “cat pee” which I find so appealing (no pun intended) in Sauv Blanc.
July, in my opinion, is the convection oven of the Las Vegas year. It’s not Chamber-of-Commerce-poster-child time here in Sin City.
Inside of the building, there is a stunningly beautiful tasting bar made completely of Onyx and backlit underneath. Wow.
Well, after my trip to Paso Robles last month, I’m finding myself eyeballs-deep in post. And I’m the staff!
That chunky, short-haired person talking with Paul is me back then. Now I have long hair. Still chunky. Whatever.