Walked in the front door this evening already knowing what was to greet me on the other side, silence. The kid on his way back to Kentucky and the hubby on his way to Texas for some work deal. I’d had a pounding headache all day so the sound of my key unlocking the door, the whoosh of nothing….well it was deafening. Plunked my computer bag and purse down on the nearest chair and made a beeline for the kitchen. The pounding in my head all day had left me feeling a little nauseous so I had only been able to nibble on little handfuls of Chex Mix. It was now 6:45 and along with the thump-thump-thumping in my head I was feeling a little light up there too. Checked the fridge and aside from a crap load of beer, (thanks for that Jeremy) there were a couple cheeses….sadly no bread and some hot dogs left over from the kid’s last bash. Fucking hot dogs. Whatever I was starving and beginning to feel a little shaky so I filled a pot and plunked those little bastards in.
Hit the tinklelatorium, kicked off my shoes, ripped off my socks, (always a violent pull, not sure what’s up with that…I guess I hate being bound) and dizzily grabbed my laptop from its case, plugged everything in and as I went to lay my only company for the evening upon its usual spot on the coffee table I saw it. A single sheet of white lined paper, red marker, Jeremy’s handwriting….dude. He had left me a letter; left it in the one place he knew I would be sure to see it. Little bastard. Let’s just say any illusions I had of not losing my shit by walking into an empty house that was still heavy with his scent, well they were flushed the second I read, “Momma, I know you hate these days but part of me believes it has made us both stronger. Just know that I love you with all of my heart and I will miss you like crazy” shit…lost. There was more but will spare you…and me from having to go through that….again.
Blew my now very red nose and woofed down two hot dogs, (I NEVER eat two, I’m a one dog kinda gal) without so much as breathing and braced my blood sugar correcting, snotty nosed, dizzy headed, heart sore self on the couch while all my bits tried to find one another and put me back together. I was like Humpty Dumpty with her doughy encased dogs acting as king’s horseman. I was shaken from my haze by a text message, “Safely landed in Kentucky” followed shortly by, “The bastards broke my Tequila” the baby was safe and pissed about losing some fairly precious cargo. This rage at the loss of high end Anejo would have normally brought a tear to my eye but I was fresh out and just so damned happy to hear my beloved son was on the ground so I just found my giggle and had my first real smile of the day.
Once I was all leveled and snot free I sipped away on a glass of white wine, a simple and easy to drink white wine. I would never say it is a wine I love, (and yes I am leaving the name out on purpose as it is a wine I sell and drink fairly often) but it’s pleasant and something I need not spend any time thinking about. Pop the cork, wash down the day’s yuck and am left with a clean little zip. Easy wine. Just like my stooped hot dog dinner was easy. Did I love it? No. Would I eat/drink them again….sure. Could I write some opus about it…hell no. There is a place for these things, these foods that fill an instant need and wines that do little more than offer something palatable and in my case, fresh tasting. This is part of the reason I get my knickers twisted when I read some blogger’s post about something like Bogle Chenin Blanc. Stop it. It was free and it can serve a purpose but c'mon, lets not make it sound like the second coming.
So I mentioned a couple posts back that I had plans for dinner that were squished by traffic and issues with mobility. I surrendered to the god’s of crap food and knelt before the alter of Der, Der Wienerschnitzel. Yeah yeah yeah, Ms French wine and fancy food is not above eating the shit that comes in a steaming brown sack that is loaded with tiny packets of accoutrement. I confessed my snotty nose so I will now share that I have three joints of the fast food genre that I frequent; Jack In The Box (only breakfast items that are served all day and those egg rolls) Del Taco, doesn’t matter what it is I get but those fries are wicked and Wienerschnitzel…do not judge me my mini corn dogs. Don’t eat them all the time but they will do in times of need or when time is NOT on my side. I can eat these things and appreciate them for what they are but they simply cannot make me feel anything other than puffy and logy.
So the night I drove home with the smell of sweet, sweating summer tomatoes; the ones I envisioned chopping and bathing in lemon juice, salt and slivers of red onion, I ended up eating a chili dog and an order of fries. It was fine, held me over and what not but the soft bun, dense meaty sauce and snap-less dog looked good, tasted good enough but….I wasn’t feeling anything.
Had the same feeling the other day when I ran through the wines from Joel Gott winery. They were affordable, easy, not at all unpleasant but frankly they were like a lazy lover….just filled a need, laid there and no matter how nice they looked and smelled, well they left me aching for something . Each splash of those wines across my palate left me flat and while I can understand that there is a time and place for that easy thing, I need wines that are kind of lippy and willing to claw their way up my chest and make me feel them.
Once done with the Gott wines I popped or unscrewed a bottle of 2009 Lafon Macon-Villages, the nervy acidity and sassy fruit was wrapping its sharp fingers around me before I even took my first sip. The life slipping through that quarter sized opening was shaking me and my mouth was watering, my back stiff, my nostrils wide…feeling, I was feeling something just from the nose of this wine. Life. There was life in this wine, a vibrancy and intensity that took control of my wrist and forced me to pour another glass…and another. All my senses awake and vibrating; my mouth wet and wanting, my nose searching, my mind engaged. Felt almost like someone had removed the layer of cling film from my tongue and now I was really tasting.
I finally got to make my tomato dinner, a giant bowl of ripe chopped red, green and yellow flesh…lemon, salt, red onion and crispy chunks of sourdough bread that I had crisped in the oven with butter and herbs de Provence. I watched as my college budget son, the one that lives on boxed, lifeless food piled up a mountain of buttery, crispy bread chunks and poured all that nervy lemon scented, just ripe and pulsating with life tomato juice into the bowl and actually groaned with each lightning bolt of freshness that not so gently landed upon his ready palate. I sat there sipping my Lafon Macon-Villages, its exuberant spine waking me while I watched my son’s palate light up with the life of summer produce…and Momma cooking. The two of us being lit up with nervy acid and a blast of freshness.
I sat here alone tonight, hot dogs bringing me back to life but doing little to truly feed me. I let the past two weeks roll through my head, all the laughs, cuddles, crazy scheduling and abundance of love wash over me and I had to shove the cork back into the "hot dog wine" and get myself a glass of something that was capable of making me feel less lonely. Something that could make me actually feel something....oh yeah, I was once again slipping my fingers around a bottle of Comte Lafon Macon-Villages. My heart thumping rather than my head, my mouth filling with excited expectation the second I heard the snap of the seal breaking on the wine. Damn, I needed that...
Friends, family, love, food and wine...It’s lovely to see you, so nice to smell you but….I really need to feel you.