so lady-like

Mari's at it again -- leaving nothing to the imagination.

drinking, er, studying

So I signed up to take the introductory sommelier course in November.

And upon confirmation of my registration, I received a 21-page syllabus of everything I will have to know in order to pass this test. This ranges from vineyard practices (canopy management, how to pick, weather) to winemaking (malolactic fermentation, fermentation vessels, barrel regimen) to all of the major winemaking regions around the world (from France to Portugal to the U.S. to Australia and New Zealand). I also need to know beer, spirits and cigars.

I am sort of terrified.

But I am doing a lot of, shall we say, "studying." For example, I need to know all seven of the Chablis Grand Crus for this test. So tonight I drank the 2001 Grenouille from La Chablisienne cooperative, which is one of said seven. (Surprisingly, this bottle only cost me $29.99 from Garagiste. I consider this a steal for a wine of this caliber.) And I read about the wine and the Chablis region while sipping.

Some things I learned: Chablis is part of Burgundy. And Chablis wine is made with Chardonnay, although the oak regimen is different from American Chardonnay and even the typical French Burgundy -- not as much oak because the winemakers want to preserve the "integrity" of the Chardonnay. (With the Grenouille, I got only a hint of biscuit/slight cookie flavor -- probably because of just a touch of oak.) And the term "Chablis" (which you may recognize) was misused for many years -- people used it as a generic term for white wine, so as a result, some people think Chablis still means cheap, bad white wine. (I used to know someone who had a white cat named Chablis. Can't say if this cat was cheap or bad, though.) And Grand Cru Chablis can be aged for 15 years.

Which sort of made me feel guilty about opening my bottle at only seven years. But you have to drink it to learn it, right? (I'm serious -- this really is the best way to learn about wine.) And I really, really enjoyed this wine. I got white peach on the nose and just a breath of petrol (reminiscent of an older Riesling). In the mouth, there was a nice firm acidity (really perfect for a white wine made to age), what I thought was a bit of pineapple (not overwhelmingly so -- just a teeny note) and then that biscuit/cookie thing. Mouthfeel was medium-full, and the finish was very crisp and refreshing. Overall, very delicious.

And educational.

bird-watching, calorie-burning

Had the day off in exchange for working Saturday. Did some chores around the house and then went for a run at Shollenberger.

Which is a wetlands preserve. So at this time of year, there are birds, bugs and unfortunately, snakes. I actually saw one slither away from me on the path. I stopped in my tracks, literally threw my hands in the air and yelled, "Oh f@cker!"

Despite that, I had a nice two-mile run. And then I went to my car, got my camera and took some photos of a family of swans. The mom had three furry little grey babies next to her and was also sitting on a few more unhatched eggs. Really cool.

hooray for grown-up furniture

The best thing about finally setting up the kitchen, eating meals at home and living in a house that is actually large enough to have a dining table: Conversation.

It's amazing. Dinner is now an opportunity to catch up, to spend time with each other, to talk about abstract things (and concrete things too), to get totally carried away and lose track of time. I love it.

And I love the way we've been incorporating wine with every meal. Tonight we had meatballs and drank our last bottle of 2000 Quinta do Monte d’Oiro Reserva from the Estremadura region of Portugal.

This wine knocked my socks off. I absolutely loved it. (I also loved it two years ago when we shared it with friends at Tablespoon in San Francisco -- sadly, the restaurant has since closed.) A blend of 96 percent Syrah and 4 percent Viognier, the Monte d'Oiro Reserva is like a Côte-Rôtie, which is a Syrah-based wine from the Northern Rhone.

The Monte d'Oiro Reserva was just beautiful. A gorgeous, gorgeous Old World nose -- lots of black fruit, bramble, spice, earth and meat. And in the mouth -- power, power, power. And not the over-oaked, over-alcoholic New World power (this was only 13 percent alcohol!), but real structure and complexity. I admit that when I was opening the bottle, I was really afraid that this Syrah (from Portugal, which is better known for Port, not for dry reds) was going to be past its prime. But man, this thing could've cellared for even longer. There was so much muscle, the mouthfeel was so full, the flavors were so layered -- it was like we were experiencing something new with each sip. Really amazing. And another bonus: I paid only $21.87 for it (from Garagiste, my go-to).

Yet even greater was the fact that I could gush about this wine during dinner at a table. A real table -- not a coffee table. We could discuss this wine while sitting in real chairs. And there was no TV blaring in the background. Fabulous!

This experience? Pretty much 100 points in my book.

an explanation

One morning the rain stopped just long enough for us to go hiking. The plants were very green. There were mushrooms growing on the side of the trail. He kept taking pictures of me. He is being kind of weird, I thought. It was muddy. So muddy that he couldn't actually kneel and had to squat. I still said yes. The ring was so big that he put it on the middle finger of my right hand.

This was January. And it took me this long to blog about it because weddings have a tendency to completely overtake everything, and this is a blog about eating and drinking (and occasionally cats). Not about tulle and florists and seating arrangements. (Although I will probably be blogging quite a bit about wedding cupcakes vs. wedding pie in the future. Neither of us is a fan of the tiered cake.)

Also:

1. I have issues with weddings and almost feel like having one means I have become part of the matrix. Or something like that. I kind of feel guilty -- like maybe I have succumbed to societal pressures.

2. I'm bad at telling people. Really, really bad at it. After we got engaged, we went to a tasting, and every time I introduced Todd as "my fiancé," I would start sweating profusely to the point of needing a tissue. I have since stopped using that term.

3. I've been out of town a lot. And busy with work. And let's not forget moving.

4. I am afraid of bridal salons and strange women oohing and aahing over gigantic ballgowns. I like to bake cupcakes, not wear them.

5. I am also afraid of the color white. (I work in wine. Wearing white is like asking for something really awful to happen.)

But despite all of my weird wedding hang-ups, yes, I am very, very excited to marry Todd. When it comes down to it, there's definitely something about letting all of your friends and family know how much you love someone and how you can't imagine the world any other way.