"Of white grapes and vine-leaves..." ~ Jane Eyre

The above images were taken at a small, unassuming vineyard on the North Fork of Long Island called The Old Field. Amidst all of the larger, more corporate wineries there lies this true gem that J. Sarah's parents took the Prince and I to this past weekend. They were gracious to have us out for the day on Saturday, and what a perfect summer day it was.

Our day began when the Prince and I picked up a late breakfast/early lunch to eat in the car en route east. As I sipped on my vanilla flavored iced coffee and he ate tuna with fresh tomato on whole grain bread, he set up a great playlist on the Ipod for some great music to cruise to. We opened the sunroof to my Mercedes and the first song we blasted was Clapton's Layla. Ironically, I feel the prince has turned my world both upside down and rightside up all at the same time.

We arrived at the house half past noon and greeted J. Sarah's parents and, much to the apprehension at first of the Prince, my former high school principal and his wife! J. Sarah's mom is an English teacher where we attended high school. It was great to see all of them, and as soon as we arrived I knew it was going to be one of the best days of the summer...and I was right.

After arriving, we all got into the car and drove out to Greenport. Greenport is quite an old community on Long Island and its ports used to be used by rumrunners during prohibition when ships would smuggle in alcohol from Europe. The town is lovely and we walked the streets going in and out of shops and art galleries. At one point I stopped at a small cafe for some gelato - coffee flavored - and it was most delicious. We walked to the docks and the cool breeze off of the water was as delicious as the gelato.

Once we toured most of the main street in Greenport, we went to the winery for some tasting. The photos show an oak barrel, ripe grapes ready for the picking, and an old corn crib on the premises. The wine tasting area was outdoors, set up on rickety tables with little jars of mustard out next to the menu for wine flights. Small plastic cups were used for the tastings, and we chose an entire flight of whites and reds. The grounds were beautiful, and the Prince and I walked through some of the rows of grapes, for I had never seen them right before they were ready to be picked and turned into wine. The Prince bought us two bottles to take home. One is a table red called Rooster Tail that we are saving for a night we get pizza (it was listed as a pairing and we totally agreed) and the other is a rich and fruity 2002 Merlot that I think will go well with some eggplant parmigiana.

And eggplant parmigiana is exactly what J.Sarah's dad - the good doctor - made for dinner that night back at the house! I have had it before, and it is probably one of the best dinners I have eaten. The family refers to it as EPP over Spag (eggplant parmigiana over spaghetti) for short. J. Sarah's mom is the best cook I know, but her father is also excellent. We got back to the house and sipped on a Channing Daughters white called Envelope and snacked on goat cheese and bruschetta that I prepared as an appetizer. The crowning culinary moment was the main course. As the Prince said, its not often you have the best dinner ever, so you need to get the recipe! Thankfully the good doctor sent it over the next day, with a request it appears on EpicureanEscapades soon! I told him to wait for next Thursday when the NFL season kicks off as my Giants play their first game.

The day felt like the hours flew by. Before we knew it, it was already eight in the evening. I didn't want to leave such perfection. What made the day perfect was not the food or the activities, but the company. J. Sarah's parents are my second set, and spending time with them and having them spend time getting to know the Prince made the day quite special. The beauty of the day was knowing that more days like it are to come...

"And teaches French..." ~ Jane Eyre

Merci beaucoup to all for their good wishes; I am feeling much better since the weekend and did some cooking. For today's post, please visit Epicurean Escapades!


http://epicureanescapades.blogspot.com/

"While from his lips fell the words..." ~ Jane Eyre

If romance is a wine to be tasted, you want a deep red.

You don't want a rose. Its too light and sweet, resembling a college romance where you see love through glasses the color of the liquid. You don't want a white, either. Not only is it too light, but it lacks body and layers that make it a wine just apropos for a fleeting summer romance.

Nope, you want a red. A deep red. One that is musky, round, and has a hint of berries. It has aged for a long time in solid barrels, slowly but surely developing its flavor and complexities.

The first kiss tastes like Nero D'Avola. I want to drink more, but this Sicilian gentleman gives me a small taste. We are both late to family dinners...very late. I wanted to stay at this wine bar with him until the very last drops of early morning arrived.

He leads me through Astor Place Wines and I feel intimidated. He overwhelms me, as does his knowledge about Italian wines. He is patient in his tutelage, but I am not paying attention to his words and feel rather awkward since I have never spent more than fifteen dollars on a bottle of wine; the ones he talks about are at least thirty. He knows each region of Italy and navigates perfectly as I continue to get lost in his blue eyes. They are rather intimidating.

I take my sandals off; my toes match the color of the red wine I am sipping at Gallucio Vineyards on the North Fork of Long Island. A soft breeze comes across the grape vines. I can't see his eyes since his sunglasses are on, but I watch his mouth drink in between the time he speaks to me. What he sips is a shade deeper than my red, rich and full. I pause from sipping and ask him if I can have a taste.

"If we go to France," he says, " take a refresher language class before we go. Do you still remember any?" "Oui monsieur" I say into his ear on this early spring morning as we are enveloped in crisp white sheets, "J'etudie la francais pour sept ans dans l'ecole." "Good," he replies, "you can do all the talking and I will just gesture." "D'accord," I say, "but only if you agree to take french wine classes so one of us knows the grapes." "Done," he says. I close my eyes and make a mental note to find a wine book just on french regions and grapes as soon as possible, though I will hold on to it for a few more months before presenting it to him.

Garnet Wine Store is his favorite, and I tell him that the name is apropos given that garnet is a perfect shade of red; it is my birthstone. He shows me each corner and crevice of the Italian wines, and I ask questions in hopes of learning a bit more. At one point we venture to the Australian wines. They do not have the Layer Cake Shiraz he has been wanting to taste; he is disappointed.

Raeder's Wine is my favorite, and I tell him that I want to take him there one day to meet the older Italian gentleman who works there and knows everything about wines. I walk in there on a bright spring afternoon amidst a crowd of middle-aged couples purchasing a case of assorted whites, for the summer no doubt. I ask if they have the Layer Cake; they do, just two bottles left in the back of the store. I take both. "I have a layer cake for you," is texted to him as I wait on line. I then daydream about how much I would enjoy feeding him a real piece of layer cake with a fork.

Although a table is ready at Otto, we agree that we want to do some sipping first at the wine bar. I stare into his blue eyes from across the raised bar. I usually order the Bastianich rose, but I have no desire for it at the moment. So, I order a Barbaresco and it tastes much better than the rose. Red wine is more conducive for locked eyes, I realize...