I bought this bottle fully intending to save it for a special occasion. After all, the first time I sampled this particular brand of magic was at my step-daughter's college graduation dinner a couple weeks back--if you're ever in Ithaca, do drop into Stella's and get a table in the delightfully Mos Eisley-esque basement cave bar, and then try the cilantro chorizo seafood dish--and it was such a perfect capper to the dinner and the weekend that I decided it would become my go-to quaff for toasting family and dear friends in memorable moments.
We got back to Tucson and I bought a bottle and stuck in on the shelf and then started wondering what exactly I was saving it for. The last time I put a bottle away for a special occasion--blackberry wine from the Oliver Winery in Bloomington, Indiana, possibly tromped into existence by Dionysus hisself and maybe Jesus too--the special occasion failed to materialize before the wine sadly shuffled off into vinegarhood. The time before that, the girl I was hoping to share the bottle with moved away before I ever got around to grabbing the corkscrew, much less a second kiss.
So what future am I betting on against the present by stashing the bottle on the high shelf?
I went for a walk this evening as the sun set and watched the bats wheel over the streets. As night settled in, the dogs were still breathing and nothing was on fire, and the breeze was downright pleasant.
Special occasion enough.
Slainte.
1 comment:
Sloan abhaile!
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