So, last week my friend Erin and I (this is a real person by the way, not someone I made up and unimaginatively gave my own name to) went wine tasting in Temecula. I guess in the last 10 years or so Temecula has become a hot new microclimate and wineries popped up all over the countryside, with a sprawling new township to support them. So what were a couple of silly young girls doing in suburbanite paradise? I was visiting Erin two Sundays ago while her mom was on a trip to Chicago. Erin pointed to an empty bottle of wine on her cat’s furniture.
“We have to go to Temecula. See that bottle? That was my mom’s wine and I drank it, so we have to go to Temecula and replace it,” she declared.
“Are you serious? Where is Temecula?!” I had had enough beer at this point to consider her offer.
“It’s happening Wednesday,” was the answer.
On Wednesday, I woke up late so there was a late start to the adventure. “Oh well,” I thought. “We’re only going for one bottle anyway.”
Erin picked me up and we made the hour or so drive with no problem. We found the South Coast Winery and Spa with ease.
“It’s just down this road on the right.” Erin had a great sense of direction. I did not.
“Wait! Isn’t that the way in?!” I said, pointing backwards. I started blurting out directions after she made the correct turns. “I think we’re supposed to go left,” I’d remark after she turned right and passed another large sign saying “THIS WAY TO WINE COUNTRY.”
At the winery, we went wine tasting for the first time. You pay $7, and you get 5 shots of wine. Literally, a shot of wine… the bottles have speed pours on them. We tasted the bottle we were going to pick up for her mom, and then decided on a few more for us. The lady was very placating, everything I said she ended up agreeing with.
“This would go great with lamb,” I said after trying a nice Cabernet.
“Oh yes! Very good with fine red meat,” she echoed.
“I’d like to make up a cheese platter for this one,” I nodded to my taster of Sauvignon Blanc.
“Indeed!” she said cloyingly.
“Horse buttholes would be delicious with this one!”
“Naturally! I eat them everyday!”
I made that last part up, but everything else is essentially true. It was too late when we realized she didn’t actually like buttholes, she was just angling for a tip. I ended up buying one bottle, while Erin bought five. Stolling out to the car, already with a mild buzz, Erin and I decided $7 for 5 shots was a pretty good deal and we should see what the other wineries had to offer.
We became the Goldilocks of Temecula. One winery looked too ghetto, while another was too “busy,” and still another was only good for its porta potty, (which Erin used, baffling an onlooking landscaper).
Two wineries were satisfactory, however. One guy decided we should try every wine they had even though we didn’t pay for it. I spilled a full taster on his bar to show my gratitude. The next place had a real witch for a server, and Erin loudly observed that fact several times and spilled a glass of wine for emphasis. We ended up with a few more bottles and decided we should get back to town and drink some more. A few martinis and a couple of beers later, our adventure in wine country had concluded.
It may not have been executed with the class or grace typical of what one would expect in Temecula (the people staring at us as we laughed hysterically in one of the parking lots proved that), but it was fun. And that makes for a good Wednesday in my book.
Tags: drunk