Pink Amidst Dashing Deliveries

The good news is...I can still drink rose and be a bad ass.

I may not have the bumper sticker, but I'd like to think I can embody the sentiment.

Tonight was the third annual Rose crawl and since I've yet to miss one, I wasn't starting this year.

Instead, I collected Prudence and, like me, she was dressed in the de rigueur pink of rose crawls.

We made our way to C street where we were the first and caught the staff unaware.

They immediately began pouring, a gracious gesture, but an inappropriate one since they'd neither asked what I wanted to drink, nor how much.

I love a staff who's quick to pour, but I also have a budget and a liver to keep in mind.

Once chastised, they gave me the requested half pour of The Seeker Rose, a delicately fruity rose with a label clearly written by a frustrated English major.

This sophisticated wine is ideal with shellfish, salads, and berry-based dishes or enjoyed all on its own amidst dashing deliveries.

I only hope for a day with dashing deliveries, not to mention delightful alliteration.

As the room began to fill with pink-clad strangers and a few familiar faces ("We were just talking about you and saying good things"), we moved on to J Brut Rose (Russian River Valley), a wonderfully smooth and complex glass of bubbles despite its U.S. pedigree.

A tomboy friend came in and we compared pinks; she beat me with glittery pink nails but we tied on the pink underwear.

Pru and I enjoyed discussion with a friend and a newcomer about Glaswegians, weather in Scotland and disdain for the English before packing it in for pinker pastures.

We chose to be part of the first wave leaving for Amour, hoping to establish a beachhead before the masses arrived.

Of course Amour was more than ready for us with pink flowers in vases and a lovely pink menu of wine choices and nibbles.

Tres jolie!

That we did at the end of the bar and promptly ordered two glasses: Costieres de Nimes Chateau Valcombe and Cotes de Provence Chateau Montaud, the better to go with our smoked trout mousse on cucumber wedges.

The Valcombe paired beautifully with the smoked trout and we settled in for in-depth chats with several in-the-know friends.

If we looked like we were having too much fun, we probably were.

The gossip was flying fast and furiously, so much so that we couldn't resist trying another stellar rose, this time the floral Cotes de Provence L'opale de la Presqu'ile de St. Tropez.

When you're a pink lover, it's hard to know where to stop when the choices are this good.

Just for good measure, we ordered a half glass of the delicately peachy Bandol Domaines Bunan Mas de la Rouviere, just because we could.

I mean, why be on a rose crawl and not take advantage of all the beautiful pink wines you can?

Soon the clarion call came for us to gather our forces and make our way to our final stop, Secco.

The place was mobbed when we arrived, but then, as the organizer of the crawl, no doubt some people had cut right to the chase.

We hovered in the back near a small table and I ordered a glass of Brazilier Pineau d'Aunis Rose and Prudence ordered the Grange Tiphaine, so we could experience the Loire Valley after an evening tasting Provence and the Russian River Valley.

To keep our strength up, we asked for protein, namely Asher, a spicy cow cheese labeled as "cream-kissed southern blue," robiola due latte, an Italian cow and sheep cheese that promised to be silky and bloomy and Olli Bresaola, an intensely flavorful dried beef sausage.

Before it arrived, we spotted a free table and quickly took it over, much to the surprise of the occupants at the adjacent table.

We used our proximity to find out about them, assuming they were on a date but finding out instead that they were five years married.

That led to a philosophical discussion of the importance of dating during marriage and how long to wait for child-rearing (they'd stuck their toe in the water with a dog).

By the time they left, she was thanking us for our input.

Always glad to help, especially after a few glasses of rose.

And speaking of the magical pink elixir, The New York Times did a piece on roses last week.

They'd rated the Bandol we'd had at Amour #2 for its density and complexity and the #1 spot had gone to the Commanderie de Peyrassol, a wine with a history for me.

I'd discovered it a couple of years ago and enthusiastically blogged about it, causing one reader to comment.

Hmmm..Peyrassol..summer is here and I just bought a case. Love your blog, Karen.

It was my first wine blog fan, at least as far as I knew.

Sometimes I wonder if that Peyrassol lover still reads me.

And if he knows I'm still a bad ass despite a love of pink. Hope so.

Hello Pastis and Calvados

The best way to entice a friend to spend a leisurely brunch with me is to pick a place with food and wine so good that he won't want to leave.

Sure, some might call that manipulation, but I prefer to think of it as catering to my friend's interests.

So when we decided on brunch, I chose Amour Wine Bistro as our destination, knowing he's a sucker for fine French wines and well-done food.

We were the first customers in the door, so we got the front table, also known as the "aquarium seats"  for the ever-changing view of Carytown street theater (a lot of fake tans, a lot of questionable clothing choices, a lot of bad parallel parking).

I began our multi-hour odyssey with the cocktail special, a fresh grapefruit juice and Rose combination that had a nose of the sweetest grapefruit and the prettiest deep pink color.

My friend has grapefruit issues so he had a Kir Royale, but it couldn't compare to my fresh-squeezed libation, IMHO.

Our first course was yogurt with local blueberries (so large I couldn't finish it), watermelon gazpacho (not a lot but so well done that the flavors sang in my mouth) and blueberry mint jam on a salted butter baguette.

Let me just say that one of my fondest childhood memories was toast with a thick layer of salted butter topped by strawberry preserves.

I can still remember making up that combination and taking it out into the sunshine to enjoy on our swing set in the backyard.

Few things move me like a slice of heavily buttered toast with jam enjoyed on a summer morning outside.

And this blueberry mint jam on a superior baguette would probably have made my head explode had I taken it down to the swings as a child.

With that lovely course, we enjoyed a Chateau la Calisse Rose, pale in color and long on finish. I could have walked away happy after that course.

As we sat there discussing his upcoming trip to the Amalfi Coast, other adventurous brunchers began to trickle in until we were merely one of many tables enjoying a multi-course mid-day meal.

And of course, there was so much more to come.

Next up was the protein plate. On it was a quiche of local summer veggies, flounder with capers and white wine sauce and beef tips with Dijon sauce.

Paired with that array was Chateau de Valcombe Costieres de Nimes Rouge, which managed to work with all three entrees, always bringing out the berries in the wine.

The crust on the quiche was especially well done and the flounder probably my favorite. The beef tips managed to be medium-rare, a feat for such small pieces of meat.

While eating we were making plans for a future day trip while his Mac has to be in the shop. Tough call, north or west? We made no final decision, given our emerging loopy state.

I finished with the cheese plate (Crotin de Chavignol, Morbier, Comte and Fourme D'Ambert) paired with Roussillon Pierre Henri Pinto Noir.

From the first taste of the Loire Valley goat cheese, the wine showed itself to be the ideal accompaniment for my cheese course.

We couldn't decide which we preferred, the Morbiere or the  Fourme D'Ambert (a bleu), but they were all outstanding.

My friend had gone the fruit route with a tart tatin and house-made pastis-melon sorbet (yes, it was my first brush with pastis. Sad, I know).

To accompany his sweet course, he had Calvados (a small amount of which he poured over the tart) and Cremant, because bubbles and dessert are a match made in heaven.

It was my first Calvados, but I found a lot to like about its complementary nature with the tart. And I haven't met too many Cremants I didn't like.

As my friend lingered over his tart, I enjoyed a Cremant d'Alsace Rose, returning to my affinity for pink.

By that time, my friend was happily admitting his fondness for my choice of brunch spots, raving about the baguette, the flounder, the Chateau de Valcombe, the tarte tatin and the Calvados.

He acknowledged that "that was a lot of lunch," but as someone who had had a banana and figs for breakfast, I was feeling mighty satisfied by the time we finished.

He admitted that he wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about going to the office now that we'd had such a pleasant three-hour interlude, suggesting that perhaps he should drop his rate for any work he managed to accomplish this afternoon.

And he had forgotten about any talk of manipulation and was now praising me for my excellent brunch choice.

It should be noted that he did not want to leave.

Mission accomplished.