As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.
-Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
Oh, summertime. I heard somewhere that once upon a time the South was a hot and sunny place to live. Well, they lied. In fact, recently I am concerned that I actually live in South East Asia and it is monsoon season, and I am not equipped for this weather.
Seeing as I own neither rain boots nor a boat, I felt it was time to dry off and take a trip somewhere where there is actually summer weather. So I packed up my boyfriend and off we went to see what summer in Europe is like this year.
And guess what? Paris is flooding too.
Ok, maybe we didn’t go on vacation per se and instead went to a wine shop to plunder the French section, but hey. Every little bit counts, right? We were there to support the French!
After hanging out in France for the afternoon (I’m sorry, I mean the French wine section), we came home with a supposedly nice bottle of fumé, which, if you speak French means “smoked.”
I will be the first person to tell you that I love white wine, but the thought of drinking a light, crisp beverage that is smoked sounds incredibly unappealing. Seriously, maybe you could get away with a smoky red wine, but white?!
I think on this one, I will call upon the great men of the ages to come and defend me. Like Martin Luther who said, “Beer is made by men, wine by God.” Put into 21st century speak that translate that to: “Wine is made of grapes. Do not mess with them, and certainly do not smoke them.”
However, it does appear that I will indeed be trying fumé this evening. After all, I do these things all in the name of new experiences. As they say, when in Rome…..
So cheers to new adventures. Bottoms up!