I’m not really sure how I went from the bikini-clad, sun-worshipping, beer guzzling boat ornament to the hat wearing, sunscreen slathered, wine drinking gazebo Queen that I am, but it definitely was not an overnight transition. It was a journey. A journey that I’ve enjoyed immensely however, it was one that I initially embarked on a bit begrudgingly.
Anyone that grew up around a body of water can relate to the way that summers are spent when you’re a young adult. Hopefully you have at least one friend that has a boat, or access to one. And typically there is that one guy that’s a little over the top so therefore assuring there will be plenty of laughs, and then you always have the one beautiful girl that all the guys can’t wait to see on THEIR boat in her bikini. I was, unfortunately, not that girl. I was her sister, so as such I was always allowed to tag along on these excursions of debauchery, igniting my first ever introduction to drinking. As they say, it all starts…with your first beer.
The first one didn’t taste very good. I recall not being very impressed at all and then wondering why all the guys thought it was so “awesome dude” to swallow one down in a big gulp and then crush the can in your hand like it were a ball of paper. Whatever! Boys were stupid. But I liked them, and they liked beer. So I adapted.
Young adulthood consisted of Friday night parties, hanging out, and trying to act cool. And somewhere in between all of these events I was introduced to my first taste of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill wine.
I say wine because that is what it said on the label. It was packaged in a pretty green bottle with a label covered in what I’d always imagined the Beatles were singing about, and therefore, I had to try it. The first sip wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t bad at all. It was ten times better tasting than beer was. I remember thinking, “why-oh-why” had I been choking down all that terrible beer when there was something so much better?
It happened as I sat around the campfire. Several friends and I had gone camping and as we gathered around the camp fire that first evening my latest crush handed me the bottle. Wanting desperately to impress my crush, I sipped every time the bottle was handed to me and soon a warm, flush feeling came over me. Not sure if I was sitting too close to the fire or if Mr. Handsome was igniting something else in me was of no consequence. I remember that I was feeling wonderful. I’d never felt like this before. Everyone talked about being drunk or “hammered” and acting silly, but I’d not experienced that. I could never get enough beer down for any effect to take hold. After one, I’d usually fill my can with water so I wouldn’t garner the typical ribbing that would have come had my friends seen that I wasn’t cool like they were so I faked my share of “pounding the brewskies” to preserve my level of cool, such that it was.
Now as I sat there in the glow of the campfire I listened to my friends tell tales of other parties and football games and I continued to take my turn each time the green bottle was handed to me. And then the bottle of Mad Dog came my way. Purple wine! Now that….was cool!
The next morning I truly believe that I died. At least, for the first thirty seconds that my eyes were open. And then for the next eight hours I wished I had died. I was as ill as a ninety pound girl can get after drinking her weight in wine. Time and time again I visited the porcelain shrine, only to finally give up and lay on the cool, tile floor. I begged for relief. I prayed for forgiveness. I promised that I’d never, ever, ever drink again. And then mercifully I slept.
It would be years later before I would try wine again. I’d start a career in the military. A marriage would come and then end. There would be relationships, friendships, lots of beer drinking, and much maturity that would happen before grapes and I would find each other again.
Eventually, my love of wine would grow from a fascination with wanting to learn but if I’m being honest, the desire to not look like a total tool was a big motivator as well.
My younger sister, the beautiful, bikini clad girl, grew up, got married, and became quite the social diva. For years she’d invite me to events and parties so that I would mingle and perhaps meet “Mr. Wonderful”. Having spent a good part of my life after the Mad Dog incident enjoying such taste bud thrilling concoctions as Rum and Coke, and Vodka and Seven Up, I had become a stranger to the vino so the first time that a glass was offered at one of these parties, I hesitated.
For a split second the insecure, wanting to impress everyone girl emerged and not wanting to appear unsophisticated, my head nodded yes and within a moment a cold glass of white wine was in my hand. As I tasted the wine there was a momentary flash back to that long ago morning awaking on the cold tile floor of my bathroom after the night that I was introduced to the Dog. That was called wine also I’d recalled. Even 20 years later, my stomach still did a little, tiny, flip flop as I thought of it. But, standing in the great room of my sister’s mansion overlooking the Austin city skyline below, I felt the slow burn of infatuation start to build with each sip. And there began a long, great relationship.
From that point I devoured everything that I could read about wine. I bought subscriptions to Food & Wine Magazine and to Wine Spectator.
I also became a member of several websites and dove in whole hog, joining in events like wine pairing dinners and wine tastings for new releases, but one of the most informative evening that I spent was one that boasted a “sommelier” that would walk us through an entire tasting, answering questions along the way. Of course when I read that I had to look it up. I’d never heard the word before and was pretty sure that they were referring to a juggler of some sort. I discovered that a Sommelier was somewhat of a wine steward or someone that is specifically trained and knowledgeable about wine. Once it was determined that I wouldn’t be seeing wine glasses and bottles being juggled I was excited to hear what this guy would tell me and off I went.
Because of my experiences that evening, my wine palette grew as did my desire to branch out and taste new things, and, since I lived in Austin I soon found myself visiting many of the wineries in Central Texas. Now up to this point, Texas wasn’t known, per se, for their terrific wines but in this wine neophytes opinion, that is only because your “typical” wine snob wouldn’t deign to drink wine from the oil rich state of Texas. But there are some terrific wines being made in Texas and I’d like to share a few with you.
I would be remiss in my duties as a wine lover if we didn’t talk for just a moment about Napa. My first trip was in 2000 and I was completely overwhelmed with the place. The scenery in Napa is fantastically beautiful and so very different than what this Texas girl is used to seeing. Everything is lush and green and alive. I will never forget the smell in the air. I did a wine bus tour and completely lucked out with the tour guide.
I would guess that Samuel was in his mid-60’s or so. He was quite charismatic, and wonderfully knowledgeable, not only about wine and the wine making process but also about the region and why it was settled all those years ago. He told great stories about Napa, his personal wine journey, and a lovely story about how he met his wife while on a wine tasting trip in Italy almost 30 years prior. He had also gone into quite a soliloquy echoing what I’d long since thought to be true; that just because it was inexpensive, didn’t mean that it wasn’t good. There are tons of moderately priced wines that are absolutely wonderful. All in all, it was the kind of day that one would hope to re-create at some point, all the while knowing that it couldn’t possibly be done.
Since then I’ve made a trip out to Oregon and the Willamette Valley region and loved it immensely. I’ve also made a trip out to Temecula in southern California and had some fabulous wines from that region as well. Santa Barbara, Solvang, and Sonoma are also on my “American wine regions I’ve visited” list. I honestly don’t think there has ever been a “bad” wine trip that I’ve taken.
But, I feel like that is just how it is with people that love the grape. It really is just about the pure joy that it brings to you. And that joy is something that you want to spread to all you care about. Wine drinking for me isn’t just something that I do, it’s become a lifestyle. It’s easy conversation, smooth music, reminiscing, laughter, and being with people that you love. It’s about as far away from that lake dwelling, beer swilling - crowd as you can get.
I used to love hanging out with those friends on their juiced up speed boats, preening around in my tiny bikini and drinking beer through a funnel; but we weren’t making lifetime memories back then. We were getting smashed and then forgetting most of the day before.
These days, after 26 years of service, the military uniform is long gone, and so are my days of flying solo. In February of 2017 I met a man that would alter the course of my life, and in April of 2018, we were married in front of family, friends, and loved ones. And of course, there was wine.
As I finish writing this, I look around my comfortable home, this old married lady, realizing that I am getting ready to embark on yet another wonderful adventure, this time with my best friend, and I raise my glass, toasting the air, and smile recalling a famous 70’s advertising line; You’ve come a long way baby.
Yes. Yes, indeed. I had.
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