Holy facepalm, I'm afraid to read Natalie MacLean!
I've been snooping around online trying to get a feel for the landscape, and Ms. MacLean absolutely terrifies me!
Mr. New York Times, I truly don't know how I feel about wine just yet and I'm really not much of a drinker. Forgive me?
Seriously. From an Amazon Book Description: Natalie tastes sensuous pinot noir in the ancient cellars of Burgundy. Are you kidding me? You have got to be joking, right? I remember drinking a bottle of something that was a murky ruddy red on a beach in Portugal twenty some years ago. We'd picked it up with a loaf of bread for a buck on our honeymoon and hit the beach to watch the sunset. A stray dog kept trying to hump another stray in his ear behind our picnic spot, I kid you not, and the fisherman standing a few yards down the beach playing with his pole kept leering. That's pretty much as good as it gets here. That and homemade rose petal wine someone gave me about a dozen years ago for my birthday. I swear it was like drinking a bottle of dollar store perfume. Not that I've made a habit of drinking dollar store perfume (I'm trying to cut back - I swear!), but pinot noir in the ancient cellars of Burgundy?
Thank you, Natalie. Thank you for intimidating the absolute shite out of me.
To absent friends,
Heather
I've been snooping around online trying to get a feel for the landscape, and Ms. MacLean absolutely terrifies me!
Mr. New York Times, I truly don't know how I feel about wine just yet and I'm really not much of a drinker. Forgive me?
Seriously. From an Amazon Book Description: Natalie tastes sensuous pinot noir in the ancient cellars of Burgundy. Are you kidding me? You have got to be joking, right? I remember drinking a bottle of something that was a murky ruddy red on a beach in Portugal twenty some years ago. We'd picked it up with a loaf of bread for a buck on our honeymoon and hit the beach to watch the sunset. A stray dog kept trying to hump another stray in his ear behind our picnic spot, I kid you not, and the fisherman standing a few yards down the beach playing with his pole kept leering. That's pretty much as good as it gets here. That and homemade rose petal wine someone gave me about a dozen years ago for my birthday. I swear it was like drinking a bottle of dollar store perfume. Not that I've made a habit of drinking dollar store perfume (I'm trying to cut back - I swear!), but pinot noir in the ancient cellars of Burgundy?
Thank you, Natalie. Thank you for intimidating the absolute shite out of me.
To absent friends,
Heather
RSS Feed