Alex gave me a look and said, “You lost him?!? With THAT hat?!?” And it’s been an ongoing inside chuckle ever since!
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.
That chunky, short-haired person talking with Paul is me back then. Now I have long hair. Still chunky. Whatever.
We were having such a good time – and The Wineaux Guy™ was a magnet with his huge hat – that the next thing we knew, we were being escorted out at the end of the event. What!? How did that happen!?
It seemed like every American-made Viognier was a wannabe Chardonnay – kept in so much oak that the floral aroma that makes it so distinctive was lost in a sea of butter.
Something has happened during my time here, and that’s called “resting.”
The Wineaux Guy thankfully talked me off the precipice, insisting that 5:00 a.m. was not “late.” Ok. He had a point.
In between there will be roaming the California coast from Santa Barbara to Solvang, Paso Robles to Monterey. My cameras and notepads are at the ready, and I’m jonesing for adventure.
I remember enjoying it because it came out of a bottle that had a cork and wasn’t cloyingly sweet. It was a real wine, and I never drank the Strawberry Hill again.
The finish was pleasantly bitter, hinting of Meyer lemon and coffee. Delicious. And did a fairly good job of slapping my palate around a bit.
Someone had said that they had really good food and were a “microbrewery” with “hand-crafted beers.” Whatever that was.