26 September 2008

She wanted to know if I thought I was qualified

Hardys Reserve Chardonnay
Australia 7000RwF Nakumat
[Chopping purple cabbage]

I catch a whiff of the metallic, like drinking water from a saucepan, and I think to myself "wait, just wait, it will ease up, have patience cheap wine lady." My advice to myself is well taken, "you were right" I reply, "patience has its virtues."

I taste melon.
But you hate melon.
I know. I never eat melon, except that rosy watery kind, which does not count. But I like this made up Hardys Chardonnay melon. It is the melon you have when you are not really having melon. It is the thinking persons melon. A melon for a melon-hater with an imagination. A hypothetical melon that is worth sucking on.
Stop the nonsense.
OK.

A well integrated, complex, apple tart.
Why not apple pie?
Tart sounds more refined.
When you say "tart" I do not think "refined" I think "raw, zesty, piquant, sarcastic."
Wrong. The apple is not tart and it is not sarcastic. Think baked granny smith with a squeeze of lemon and speck of honey, but no spices. Think camping at Woodend in grade three, listening to scary stories of the headless horseman, eating damper and apples wrapped in foil roasting in the coals, and feeling too scared to play Murder in the Dark.

My thoughts and I pat each other on the back. "Your advice is infrequent, but quite useful," I quip, "we should do this more often."

Not usually that impressed by the whites here, I recommend this one, apples, melon and not oaky but not sweet. 1/2 a cup added a palette cleansing edge to the risotto rustled up for a departing Canuckster.

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