Okay, since driving wasn’t involved, it was actually wine drinking. Staggering home is not illegal. At least as far as I know.
The first problem that I had to address was my singular, well-known ability to get lost in a small room. I call it being directionally challenged. The Wineaux Guy™ calls it hopeless.
So until I find a place that I can settle into – and be reasonably certain that the owner won’t change his mind and kick me out because someone else showed up with the bottomless wallet – my Paso Robles Getaway posts may sound more like pity parties.
Of course, it was 100°F in Vegas, so I guess summer is in the eye of the beholder. Not quite Surface of the Sun temps, but not too far off.
So I became an ABC (Anything But Chard) gal. It was quite a few years before I found the Chard character my palate desired and, as I discovered, you had a spend a little money to get it. Nowadays – whether it’s because you really don’t have to spend a fortune to enjoy a good Chard or because my palate has matured – I enjoy it on a fairly regular basis.
Yup. Me. Liking white wines. Who’da thunk?
The next night I had a roasted turkey thigh and poured a glass of the same wine – with some trepidation, I might add. After all, could a wine that caressed the barbecue sauce so beautifully the night before possibly be any good with plain ‘ol turkey?