We spent last week at my mother-in-law's, lounging around the pool, indulging in some much-needed R&R and getting spoiled rotten. (She even has a sign on the door to that effect: "Grandma's House: Children Spoiled While You Wait".)
It's hard not to feel a tad full after a visit. There is this non-stop parade of tasty morsels that emerges from the kitchen, seemingly round the clock: homemade cookies, croissants slathered in peanut butter, thick slices of banana bread. Bowls of berries still warm from the field, deli sandwiches piled high, extra helpings of lasagna. Burgers and pork chops and striploin on the grill. Corn on the cob glistening with rivulets of butter.
And there is always wine. Good, simple wine that goes with any meal. We’d have cocktail hour and the bottle of Orvieto Classico or Folonari Valpolicella would appear. It would make the rounds as we laughed and shared stories out on the deck, replenishing our plastic goblets as we soaked up the last of the evening sun.
During yet another screening of Finding Nemo ("kiddie cocktail hour" - we get our drinks, Doodle gets her juice and we all mellow out in front of the toob), MIL asked if the pinot noir she had in hand was appropriate for steak on the Q. I smiled back and replied, "It's perfect - it's wine, isn't it?" That's what I love about vacations. Park the brain at home and let yourself relax. That means, quit over-analyzing everything, for Pete's sake. No notes on aromas, no swirling and swishing. Just drink it.
It doesn't take much to make a vacation perfect. Thank God for that.