Yesterday, Thursday, was a madhouse. A MADHOUSE! Today, crickets. S. came in, a man of priorities whose first question was, "Where's the wine?"
Because sometimes on weekends, I'm not sure why it is but I've got emails out to all the necessary agencies to find out, a corks falls out of a bottle. And then it's like, well, it's open now, so in the interest of economy we might as well have some.
I mean, Americans throw out 160 billion pounds of food per year. Troglodytes, on the other hand, quite mindful of this sort of thing, throw out 0 pounds of food annually. Wine is a lot like food. Ergo.
So in the interest of all things mindful, when S. discovered, alas, there were no current cork-fails, having not been here a while he found one in his locker. KISMETY!
R. was also here, and the three of us sat for a bit enjoying the cork-fail, having a chat, like that. It was lovely, and what made it even lovelier was the Sauternes at hand. I feared a cloyingly sweet affair, but no, not even close. It was layered, bright, balanced, nuanced, and delicious.
R. really dug it in a "I want to buy some of this" kind of way, so I let her take it with her. I neglected to take a picture of it, or note what it was in any helpful way at all. Not a clue. Good luck finding some of that.
I was asking S. what purpose Sauternes served, could it be a main meal wine? For dinner last night I had the bi-annaul hot dogs with corn tortillas, jalapeno-onion-garlic, hot sauce and mustard, and cheese. The wine would have gone superbly with this.
Oh: Sauternes is not plural for Sauterne. It's just Sauternes. Sorry for that email, S. Cheers.