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April 8, 2000
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saturday surfeit The curtains black out the light but the clock says nearly 8AM. Didn't we order some room service for 8AM? So we get up and into the Four Seasons robes and open the heavy curtains to reveal a beautiful spring day on Town Lake with scullers. We didn't get that great a room but it is on the ninth floor and you can see over the American Statesman building and to the hilltop beyond where St. Edwards sits. You forget sometimes that it's a river bottom here in River City and that the land rises up from it. Why do I feel so groggy this morning, you ask. (Or maybe you didn't.) Then I remember that I only had a bit of wine at the glass tasting and maybe a glass at the auction BUT hmm...I had a martini with dinner and then a second. Oops. The lox, cream cheese, capers and red onions on a bagel and the coffee combine with a shower and all is right again. I miss my Capresso machine, however. We watch "Modern Times" on TV to escape Elian. I feel I'm as concerned as the next person about the millions of children living in poverty, living under autocratic regimes, living with disease and the death of parents. But, hello? This is one kid and why should our immigration laws or custody laws shine a different light on him. The media love this story. If Jon Benet were alive, they'd arrange a petite marriage.
Forrest is going to sit by the pool. He puts on the Macintosh Tshirt, tennis shoes, shorts and a Bob (Church of the Subgenius) cap and gathers up some books and magazines and goes out. (Yes, we brought enough reading material to last several weeks. One must never be without words.) I get ready for the champagne tasting and go down to the pool to check on Forrest. He's picking between the different strength sun blocks provided in a poolside basket. He says he's going to order a lemonade. Donna Lopiano and her parents were coming out to poolside and we all commented on all the events in town: bicycle races, arts festival, the wine and food festival. A champagne tasting strikes one as incredibly decadent. So much so, combined with the day's other events, the Winemaker Lunch and Evening in Paris, that Forrest bails out and SuRu joins me. This is her only event in the festival and she will enjoy it. Six champagnes, six champagne makers, mostly members of the family eponymous with the wine. I especially enjoyed the Count, Compte Audoin de Dampierre, and Pierre-Emmanuel Tattinger. Pierre-Emmanuel said, "We love Americans.... We have been invaded many times but have been delivered by American troops." Oh, and the champagne rocked, too. Mostly Blanc de Blancs. I sniffed and tasted tiny bits and watched my bubbles. Small mousse, medium mousse, sniff, sniff, baking bread, honey, citrus, vanilla, lemon, lime. Life is good. Say what you will, I LOVE the French. It's a great theme for the festival. The festival presents a bunch of small winemaker lunches. The one at Four Seasons usually gets the 'honored guest' for the year and this one is no exception, starting out with a glass of Taittinger "Brut La Francaise." The lunch is fabulous and the company of our friends who have arrived to share it is wonderful as well. The Texas Chardonnay (Becker Vineyards 1999 Reserve) and Rhone-style (Llano Estacado "Passionelle") were good in my book, too. I could eat Elmar's Blackened Shrimp in Stilton with Roasted Pecans and Spinach leaves for a week. An Evening in Paris. Sounds good even if it's just a theme for a party on the shores of Town Lake in Austin, Texas. Some friends arrive from San Antonio and wake us from our afternoon nap. We sit at the table they've secured in the bar and enjoy a bit of conversation and a little cheese to make sure we last until dinner. I drink a coke. A little sugar and caffeine can carry one a good way. We dress up in 'black tie optional' which is surely a silly thing. But if there is a chance for tuxedo then Forrest takes it so I must be a little black and shimmery although I don't dress up too well. The meal is pretty good, I guess. Five courses and eleven wines (twelve if you count the offerings on the way in). But it took TOO long and someone bumped into my chair roughly every thirty seconds. I just couldn't get into it. I enjoyed my friends (Anne, Les, John, Susan, Deb, Sam, Jim and Nancy), but I just think I'm getting jaded. Being in crowds is starting to make me crazy. I'm an elitist, no doubt. But I wasn't born to be one. I earned it. |
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"There is hope in honest error; none in the icy perfections of the mere stylist." Charles Rennie Macintosh |
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a quick cup will revive me
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