Friday, February 17, 2012

Dreaming of drinking

I just had my wisdom teeth out – all four, at once – which has severely curbed my culinary pleasures. I spent lunch today thinking about eating and plan on spending dinner drawing pictures of crunchy St. Helens BLT sliders from Maxwell’s and wishing I didn’t have what seems to be an emerging case of dry socket.

 It has been quite the ordeal at our house this week, what with me mewling on the couch, the cat having a nervous breakdown over the appearance of “Red Bug” (or the bug that comes out of the laser pointer when you least expect it), and Ben tending to my insistent cries for “more jello!” or “do you think I’m going to die?” We didn’t get to spend Valentine’s Day with a Joel Gott 815 Cab (like I would have liked), nor did we get to kick off the weekend at our usual Thursday night haunt with a ½ off bottle of wine, maybe a Balboa Merlot or a Sharecroppers Cabernet. Nor did it help that when skyping with my Mom, she poured herself a glass of red to tease me from 2,500 miles away. Instead, I worried near constantly, went through about 90 bags of ice, and now have a messy house and a very very sore mouth.

Needless to say… I’m dying for a glass of wine. Anything really. I’d have a Zinfandel at this point, heck I’d even try a White Zinfandel if it meant that I could sit back and each cheese and crackers and drink something. However, the pain, my insane neuroses, and the jarring mental image (sorry!) of wine filling up my exposed gum holes, only to come swishing back out again and down my throat, has completely turned me off pretty much everything. My diet right now consists of things that don’t make me want to immediately vomit – applesauce and tomato juice. I’m sure that this image has now made you want to vomit and stop eating applesauce and tomato juice, but such is life. Misery loves company. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than necessary, but somehow using a syringe to irrigate food particles out of your surgical wounds doesn’t put a skip in my step.

So, instead, I’m thinking about things I’d like to eat as if I was facing my last meal. And, in lieu of writing about anything I’ve discovered recently, I’m going to plan a dream wine menu (feel free to enjoy without me) - 

If I could drink any wine I want right now, I would start with a Prosecco toast among friends. I tried an Adami Prosecco ($14) at a wine tasting the other day and it was so light and so crisp I could see drinking bottles of it and not getting tired of the delicate taste. With the right amount of bright citrus, yet a dry finish, this wine was perfect on its own and I’d recommend it that way. And then, as the bottle ran dry, a Kris Pinot Grigio ($10-12). Clearly, I’d be on a sunny porch in some foreign country, airing out my tanned and impeccably toned legs, and I would be eating caprese, the fresh tomatoes bursting with seeds and red juice. The wine would be cool, clear, and almost sparkling, the pale yellow in the glass picking up the sun. And then, I’d move, as the sun set over a glistening and very warm sea, to a Bethel Heights Pinot Noir ($30). With it I’d nibble on thin slices of raw Ahi, slather some bread with a thick mushroom bruschetta, and spread soft blue cheese on thin baguette slices. And then, as the air got chilly and the breeze picked up a hint of faraway places, and the leaves started to rustle in a natural chorus, I’d open a bottle of Reserve Perrin Cotes du Rhone (you all know that this is my favorite wine), and serve up some mushroom and herb encrusted lamb (in this dream I am no longer a kind-of-vegetarian) with a wilted spinach salad. And for dessert, hours later, into the painted black of nighttime in a quiet place, I'd drink a glass of Warre's Warrior Port ($16) with a tiny bit of Stilton cheese and absolutely die of happiness.

Mm… and now back to my lukewarm applesauce.

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