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,