Drinkin' and Bloggin' Part WhyAreYouCountin',NosyTwit?

So, we spent the weekend in Charleston, where I always seem to get mocked for my low intellect and general lack of sophistication and charm. But this is fine, because being mocked keeps a babe humble. Mocking aside, I had a great(ish) time. This place called Ted's Butcher Block is a stone's throw from where we stay and I like it. How can you not like a place that hosts an eight hour bacon tasting? Eight hours, eight bacons (none, however, of the Kevin variety). "Hell, yeah" is what I say. They were also passing around a (free!) tray of pulled pork. Again, I say "Hell, Yeah!" Does anyone ever say "Hell, Yeah" just once?

We also went to La Fourchette, after swearing we would try another one of Charleston's fabulous restaurants. Thing is, we like La Fourchette, a whole lot. Friday night, we went to Il Cortile del Re, which was totally awesome. And reminded us of La Fourchette, where we absolutely were not going. But our waitress, who heavily contributed to the awesomeness, mentioned Il Cortile del Re's sister restaurant...La Fourchette. So we had to go there the next night. It was like a sign! And we were richly rewarded, with an entire bottle of Sancerre we were determined not to order (because we were only going to have "one"), which was awesome. Are you noticing a pattern? The universe keeps deciding what's right for us. That's fine. I'm determined to let go. I was also rewarded with a trip into the kitchen to take a look at a really cool crêpe maker. That one came direct from Bretonne (at least as well as I can remember - I was well into the bouteille de Sancerre by then) and I want one. I think this would be a very practical purchase. Think of the money we could save on crêpes!

So, we had this yummy wine at Mr. Friendly's the other night*. Finally, thanks to Sam at Baan Sawan, I know what I like. He has informed me that I prefer "dry whites that are minerally, not buttery." I do not know what this means, but when I say it, I always end up with something good, like the Manifesto Sauvignon Blanc, which is priced nice and low to boot. Hooray! So, we had it at Mr. Friendly's, I bought it again at Ted's Butcher Block and bought it yet again at Earth Fare today, in anticipation of my friend Tracie coming over for a glass of wine. She's visiting her lovely hometown from California, where folks seem to know a thang or three about wine. In fact, Tracie** knew a whole lot about my new favorite intoxicator fancy grapey beverage. As it happens, I've met one of the dudes involved, when he accompanied Tracie to a friend's wedding. Which makes me, like, pretty much famous. Did you even follow any of that? Well, whatever. My family is in real estate, which means I sort of understand real estate. Manifesto is made from grapes grown just outside the famous Napa Valley. Let's call it JOuNaVa, for "Just Outside of Napa Valley." This makes the grapes less expensive, kind of like the exact same house in a different neighborhood can be a whole lot cheaper. By the way, please don't blame Tracie if my explanation is way off. I have been drinking heavily. All you really need to know is the wine is awesome and on sale at EarthFare right this second (for around $12, I think). And...they're coming out with a Cabernet Sauvignon in April 2009. Hell, yeah!

All this insider information about wine made us feel better about the fact that we crashed a party last night and brought a bottle of the Manifesto, hoping for forgiveness. We toyed with the idea of taking red wine, but guess what? Everyone brings red wine and very few people drink it, which is why we have a bunch of it on the floor of our pantry. My husband said we should take them something we liked, instead of something that gives me hives. Good call. I only hope they know what a sophisticated choice we made, even if we didn't know we were making it. Did I mention it has a screw top? Hell, yeah!

But all of the above was a big fat digression, because I really just wanted to complain about my chin. Which looks like it was attacked by an angry raccoon, or some such animal. I don't care for zits, especially of the raccoon fight variety. According to my insurance company, I'm too old for zits. They now require special dispensation from my doctor before they'll pay for my zit cream. They require a note from her, something along the lines of, "Yup, still gross." They waited until the occasion of my thirtieth birthday to give me the news that I was too old to suffer such a puerile disorder. Insult to injury and all that...

Namasté, y'all!

* Yeah, this is rambly. I warned you in the title. Speaking of titles, I'm not all that great at them. And I would like to thank whoever named my last column "Pear Tart=St. Barth's." I think that would be Ron, my (former?) editor at Free Times. Ron, or whoever, people (including me!) love that title. S'funny!

** People who like to talk food and wine, by the way, should follow Tracie's lead and keep it interesting. Her explanation of the wine involved part of her dating history, which gave it a nice, personal touch.