Beach blanket bingo for a couple of days.
Best reason to go to the beach yesterday:
Biker week
Let the record show that the last bike I was taken for a ride on was a Yamaha.
Most succinct church sign passed:
"If your God is dead, try mine."
For that matter, if your God is (stupid, sneaky, condescending, mean), try mine.
Best business sign seen:
"Bikers serving bikers!" (courtesy American Pie Ice Cream shop)
That way, you know where their hands have been.
Biggest disappointment this morning:
Missing breakfast at the Nags Head Pier.
A tardy arrival meant lunch was the only option, but eating a fried flounder sandwich on the pier with the windows open almost made up for not getting pancakes.
Funniest overheard line at hotel:
Biker girl: "How long does the bar stay open?"
Hotel clerk: "As long as you're drinking."
No way that bar beat a balcony overlooking the ocean with a bottle of King Family Viognier.
Closet thing to religion:
Flat on the sand, looking up at a late afternoon blue sky and partial moon with not a soul in sight on the beach.
Only heathens say things like that.
Most flavorful Sunday dish (courtesy Ocean Boulevard):
Octopus confit over arugula, olive salad, peperoncini, preserved lemon zest and (rectangular!) chickpea fritter.
Haven't you heard? Rectangular fritters have more crunchy outside parts than round ones.
Least likely thing to see on a beach walk:
Three people pulling organs from a huge, dead overturned sea turtle.
Suspicious as it looked (they're a protected species), the volunteer said it had washed up with its head missing. Being scientific types, they had then measured the parts, returned them to the carcass and left it by the shore to be pulled out to sea.
Finest Monday pig (courtesy Red Sky Cafe):
Pork in pastry (citrus-roasted pulled pork in wood-fired pastry with southern slaw finished with Wasabi-spiked Thai barbecue drizzle).
Hello sweet pig, I say when it arrives. "That's what the servers call it," the bartender says, amazed. "You must have the inside scoop." No, I just recognize sweet pig when I taste it.
Most important rule of thumb on a beach weekend:
Never ask anyone to do something you wouldn't do yourself.
It's an ocean, You're bound to get wet.
Least likely thing to happen on a beach holiday:
Dancing to Foreigner to celebrate a wedding anniversary and yet I know it's happened.
But if you're not at the ocean to listen to the surf and get wet, you may as well leave your beach towel at home.
Bingo.
Showing posts with label king family viognier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label king family viognier. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
We Hold These Truths To Be Self- Evident
Poetry is the way we live.
Three minutes is enough for certain mollusks.
Ottowans will expect neighborhood wine shops.
Go ahead and leave, but you will return with a new appreciation for here.
No film school is required to make films.
If you're dying of a mysterious illness, never take something from a bottle labeled "The Cure."
Act One
The scene: Bistro 27
The players: Yours truly and a wine-savy friend
The food: Three-minute calamari in a basil tomato sauce over Byrds Mill grits. Cheese-stuffed empanadas with pesto aioli.
The surprise guests: A Canadian couple here for a real estate conference. They were impressed with how friendly people here are and appalled at their inability to find wine shops within walking distance of their hotel (I told them about The Hoppy Dog, a block away).
The conversation: Holding grudges, how a certain bass is a metaphor for a woman and a new winery.
Act Two
The scene: Firehouse Theater
The reason: "Days Gone By," the debut film of John Zhao, who was not a film student and had never made a film. After someone tried to rob him on Broad Street, he took refuge in the Firehouse where Project Resolution was showing local film shorts and he was hooked
The hook: The film was shot in digital, analog and on film.
The sentiment: After having moved to NYC (like countless other Richmonders), he's returned and acknowledged how much he missed this town and how satisfying it was to be back.
The surprise: The short film shown first, made by an HIV-positive black gay man who told his life story and thoughts via spoken word and a desire to make his life poetry, despite every societal strike against him.
The plot: Despairing boyfriend watches girlfriend dying and hallucinates along the way, with a few "A Clockwork Orange" moments thrown in for good measure. Oh, and some David Lynch.
The conclusion; King Family Viognier is good. Drugs mixed in a blender with alcohol and a stuffed animal are bad. Never fall for a girl just because she dances alone and you watch her.
The sweet ending: Limoncello, dark chocolate-drizzled pineapple and cheap laughs for language geeks.
The past, the present and the future walk into a bar.
If my life is a poem, I am hoping it is a rhyming couplet with the slyest of humor.
It was tense.
Too funny...and not at all the way I live.
Three minutes is enough for certain mollusks.
Ottowans will expect neighborhood wine shops.
Go ahead and leave, but you will return with a new appreciation for here.
No film school is required to make films.
If you're dying of a mysterious illness, never take something from a bottle labeled "The Cure."
Act One
The scene: Bistro 27
The players: Yours truly and a wine-savy friend
The food: Three-minute calamari in a basil tomato sauce over Byrds Mill grits. Cheese-stuffed empanadas with pesto aioli.
The surprise guests: A Canadian couple here for a real estate conference. They were impressed with how friendly people here are and appalled at their inability to find wine shops within walking distance of their hotel (I told them about The Hoppy Dog, a block away).
The conversation: Holding grudges, how a certain bass is a metaphor for a woman and a new winery.
Act Two
The scene: Firehouse Theater
The reason: "Days Gone By," the debut film of John Zhao, who was not a film student and had never made a film. After someone tried to rob him on Broad Street, he took refuge in the Firehouse where Project Resolution was showing local film shorts and he was hooked
The hook: The film was shot in digital, analog and on film.
The sentiment: After having moved to NYC (like countless other Richmonders), he's returned and acknowledged how much he missed this town and how satisfying it was to be back.
The surprise: The short film shown first, made by an HIV-positive black gay man who told his life story and thoughts via spoken word and a desire to make his life poetry, despite every societal strike against him.
The plot: Despairing boyfriend watches girlfriend dying and hallucinates along the way, with a few "A Clockwork Orange" moments thrown in for good measure. Oh, and some David Lynch.
The conclusion; King Family Viognier is good. Drugs mixed in a blender with alcohol and a stuffed animal are bad. Never fall for a girl just because she dances alone and you watch her.
The sweet ending: Limoncello, dark chocolate-drizzled pineapple and cheap laughs for language geeks.
The past, the present and the future walk into a bar.
If my life is a poem, I am hoping it is a rhyming couplet with the slyest of humor.
It was tense.
Too funny...and not at all the way I live.
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