there are still so many defining sammiches on the board (Castro spins), but i dont wanna double dip.
10.xx Montepulciano D'Abruzzo, wine
I'm not a wine guy. Never drink it without food, have a decent nose but a smoker's taste buds. I can occasionally appreciate an interesting pairing but, generally, gimme a pinot of either color and i'm good.
One thing i can barely stand is the Sangiovese grape, or anything high-tannin. Raises my dead tongue cells from their graves to haunt my mouth. And the M D'A is soooo Sangiovese it's almost reversely perverse. Sure, i could tell you i taste the Abruzzo rain more than the Abruzzo sun, but i have another reason to appreciate the distinct coffee, pepper, unripe berry taste.
As usual, it comes down to associations and my best associations have to do with my Mary. I had kicked her out for the umpteenth time, thought it was forever like always, but i was pretty sure this time. She had taken a private duty nursing gig in Sacramento and had pissed off her roomies in the pied a terre they shared when off-shift so quickly that she soon had the place to herself. Just when she had no one, no where, did she notice a lump under her arm....
I had moved in with a woman who stipulated that Scary Mary was not to have any of our numbers, but i made my living in casinos, so i werent hard to find. Usually on the razor's edge of fashion, she had dressed like a secretarial job applicant to seek me out, tell me she was sick & needed a friend. i dropped everything because, well, i always did.
She decided that Cali provided better health care, so stayed down in Sac for the operation & chemo. I worked weekends and hopped the hump to take care of her thru the treatments. When they were over, she insisted i stay away a few weeks til she felt whole. Before i went down, i asked her where she'd like me to make a reservation. She didn't want one. She was soooo extravagant when out on the town and i guess she wasnt ready yet. I could deal.
But there had to be some kind of celebration and Mary couldnt cook a lick. I, not much better, had just been trying recipes i saw on the Frugal Gourmet and Sac is in the middle of the greatest farmland in the country and Mary was having a rebirth of sorts, so i practiced a Pasta Primavera.
Stopped at a farm stand, then a wine shop and asked for the best pairing. I'm not sure he picked the right one when he offered the bottles with the long title, but...
Mary had as treacherous a relationship with food as she did with people. A combo junkie & fitness nut, she would often go a month on only tinned salmon & chai (and ice cream for detox), so i had no idea how she would receive my feast. Nonetheless i fussed & fretted, slammed pot & pan, put out a checkered tablecloth and tada. She was afraid of both the wine and the food. I dont strictly remember how it evolved but i ended up sitting next to her and holding out a strand of zucchini or sumn and feeding her like a mama bird. Before long, she was gulping like a gull, scarfing the Montepulciano like a hard-playing child and the life returning to her flesh & bones was palpable.
Before i returned to Reno, i went down to SF to commission an engagement ring from a poker-playing jeweler friend. Unless we did sparkling wine, Mary always wanted M D'A for our home celebrations from then on. There were less of those than either of us hoped.