Summer is almost here, by the calendar, but for many of us the first day of summer is signaled by a dramatic change in routine or weather. For kids here in the suburbs, the first day of summer is often the Friday before Memorial Day, the first of what they hope will be many lazy days of sleeping in, doing only what they want, and text messaging friends when they could just pick up the phone and talk to them.
In contrast, for overachieving alpha moms, the official start of summer begins with a rigorous schedule of activities like swim lessons, gymnastics, horseback riding, art appreciation classes, and space camp all tightly rolled into one day with a few stops along the way for sustenance. In a household with multiple kids, constantly ferrying them from one enriching experience to the next can be more work than work itself, which is why I have always held a steady job.
However, for those of us who are wine lovers, the first day of summer is the day we begin keeping the refrigerator stocked with our favorite Chardonnays, Pinot Grigios, and Rosés. So enthusiastic are we about the wines of summer that space-wise, we have to decide between allowing room in the fridge for the mayonnaise jar or another bottle of our favorite summer beverage. Bye-bye, Hellman’s! See you in the fall!
Such was the case in my household when chilly overcast days gave way to rainy overcast days. The weather still wasn’t suitable for a good barbecue, but the need for a raincoat instead of an overcoat meant we’d transitioned to another season.
It was on one of those days when I opened a bottle of my favorite Chardonnay in anticipation of some quiet time on the deck with my thoughts and the latest life-changing issue of O, the Oprah Magazine. I am no wine expert but I know what I like and St. Francis Chardonnay is a great way to ease into summer. It’s consistent from season to season and while it’s fashionable among some oenophiles to scorn buttery oaky Chardonnays like they’re the WalMart of wines, I like them.
Not every day, not for every occasion. But for me, starting off the summer wine season with a dependable Chardonnay like St. Francis is like starting a baseball game with the National Anthem. Provided Roseanne Barr isn’t singing.
There I was, taking a quick sniff before my first sip. I detected the scent of wildflowers, meadows, perfume…..unusual for a dependable Chardonnay that hints of pear and vanilla. I sipped. Interesting and not expected at all. Perhaps one of the perfume ads in O had somehow overpowered the wine?
Impossible. I hadn’t even cracked open the magazine. And yet the wine did have a perfume-y taste, like the time I took a cup of coffee into the bathroom while getting ready for work one morning. I had given myself a last-minute spritz of my favorite body scent before heading out and, had I not been driving along a busy highway where such an action could have endangered many lives, I might have swerved off the road. The taste was that vile.
This time the flavor wasn’t dreadful, because, obviously, I wasn’t drinking a shot of perfume, but still, it was a mystery.
A mystery soon solved with a little serendipitous detective work. I poured out the wine, washed the glass, mindlessly dried it with a towel while wondering what domestic discord Dr. Phil would solve in 90 words or less, and discovered the culprit. The towel had been part of a laundry load dried along with a sheet of Bounce fabric softener.
And that, my friends, is how my first wine of the summer ended up with more Bounce to the ounce. Now if you should decide to play a cruel joke on someone who claims to be a wine aficionado, just don’t tell them you learned about it here on Suburban Blurbs.
In contrast, for overachieving alpha moms, the official start of summer begins with a rigorous schedule of activities like swim lessons, gymnastics, horseback riding, art appreciation classes, and space camp all tightly rolled into one day with a few stops along the way for sustenance. In a household with multiple kids, constantly ferrying them from one enriching experience to the next can be more work than work itself, which is why I have always held a steady job.
However, for those of us who are wine lovers, the first day of summer is the day we begin keeping the refrigerator stocked with our favorite Chardonnays, Pinot Grigios, and Rosés. So enthusiastic are we about the wines of summer that space-wise, we have to decide between allowing room in the fridge for the mayonnaise jar or another bottle of our favorite summer beverage. Bye-bye, Hellman’s! See you in the fall!
Such was the case in my household when chilly overcast days gave way to rainy overcast days. The weather still wasn’t suitable for a good barbecue, but the need for a raincoat instead of an overcoat meant we’d transitioned to another season.
It was on one of those days when I opened a bottle of my favorite Chardonnay in anticipation of some quiet time on the deck with my thoughts and the latest life-changing issue of O, the Oprah Magazine. I am no wine expert but I know what I like and St. Francis Chardonnay is a great way to ease into summer. It’s consistent from season to season and while it’s fashionable among some oenophiles to scorn buttery oaky Chardonnays like they’re the WalMart of wines, I like them.
Not every day, not for every occasion. But for me, starting off the summer wine season with a dependable Chardonnay like St. Francis is like starting a baseball game with the National Anthem. Provided Roseanne Barr isn’t singing.
There I was, taking a quick sniff before my first sip. I detected the scent of wildflowers, meadows, perfume…..unusual for a dependable Chardonnay that hints of pear and vanilla. I sipped. Interesting and not expected at all. Perhaps one of the perfume ads in O had somehow overpowered the wine?
Impossible. I hadn’t even cracked open the magazine. And yet the wine did have a perfume-y taste, like the time I took a cup of coffee into the bathroom while getting ready for work one morning. I had given myself a last-minute spritz of my favorite body scent before heading out and, had I not been driving along a busy highway where such an action could have endangered many lives, I might have swerved off the road. The taste was that vile.
This time the flavor wasn’t dreadful, because, obviously, I wasn’t drinking a shot of perfume, but still, it was a mystery.
A mystery soon solved with a little serendipitous detective work. I poured out the wine, washed the glass, mindlessly dried it with a towel while wondering what domestic discord Dr. Phil would solve in 90 words or less, and discovered the culprit. The towel had been part of a laundry load dried along with a sheet of Bounce fabric softener.
And that, my friends, is how my first wine of the summer ended up with more Bounce to the ounce. Now if you should decide to play a cruel joke on someone who claims to be a wine aficionado, just don’t tell them you learned about it here on Suburban Blurbs.
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