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.
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…
When I was growing up in Philly, the corner butcher shop was a neighborhood mainstay. It has since been replaced by agribusinesses producing hormone-and-antibiotic injected Frankenbeasts. It feels great to purchase meats that have the flavors that I remember from my childhood.
After the presentation, a couple of people came up to me and thanked me for asking what they had been thinking – that the over-matured bourbon, just by the very nature of its age, complexity, and tannic structure, was by far the most interesting of the lot. It was okay for me to bring it up I guess. I’m a wine person!
You may be thinking, “Irene you nitwit! You live in Las Vegas! What’s the big deal?” The big deal is that just because I live here doesn’t mean that I actually *go* here. Like many locals, I have a certain snobbery when it comes to hanging at The Strip. So for two weeks, I went to Vegas! On The Strip, baby!