I have an inevitable relationship with alcohol. As a teen living in a small town there was not much to get into aside from my parents' liquor cabinet. And my parents had a fantastic liquor cabinet. It was more like a cupboard: two doors, four full shelves. Where and when I grew up, alcohol was everywhere. It was part of the daily routine. It was a time when no one cared that there were calories in beer, or that too much of a vodka-infused haze might be a little unhealthy for the liver. At the end of most days, my parents would meet at the kitchen table and sip away the early part of the evening whether it be a Saturday, or a Wednesday. Alcohol was the basis for a kind of social liquidity that allowed for a letting down of one's guard in the evening and then maintaining a proscribed distance the next day. It made living in a microscopic community easier.
As an adult, I sometimes find myself questioning my relationship to alcohol. Do I really need to finish that after-dinner bottle? Is getting tipsy on a Tuesday night okay? I'll make up rules: no more than two drinks at a time, or nothing between Monday and Friday. Just to know I can.
It was during one such week of semi-abstinence that I found myself seeking out Chardonnay for a post I was writing at Quench By Tidings. I discovered this lovely bottle of Chablis (that's French for Chardonnay when you are shopping in the Burgundy section).
There's a lovely duality in the glass: a crisp lemony taste but with some silky texture to the wine. It's fresh and minerally and easy to drink, and it made me think about raw oysters ($19.95).
Sometimes a bottle of wine on a Tuesday night is just a treat... and that's all it has to be.