As I think has been pretty well established by now, I like wine. Red wine, white wine, sparkling, rose—I’m a fan. A somewhat snobby fan at times, it’s true. But an eclectically snobby fan. I do tend to drink red wine more than any other, but I think that’s due in large part to practicality. I like a wine that I can drink at room temperature, that I don’t have to refrigerate after opening, that I don’t inevitably feel the need to pair with food. Red wine is an anytime wine. White wine…not so much.
Viognier, for example, which is one of my favorite white wines, in general is very much a picnic wine, in my opinion. If I’m not drinking it outdoors, surrounded by nature, on a warm, gorgeous, sunshiny day…well, it always makes me feel as though I am.
Opolo Winery is a Paso Robles institution. And their Viognier is everything I think a Viognier should be. It’s a pale gold—a little lighter in color than a Chard, a little more yellow than your typical Sauvi Blanc. It’s floral on the nose, with a crisp, green taste. There’s a hint of new mown grass (but not in an herbaceous way) with maybe a trace of minerality. There’s an almost smoky sweetness to the finish. The label says caramel, but I disagree. It has more of a dark, wild-flower honey flavor. Or maybe apricot preserves.
And, as I said, you won't go wrong if you pack it in your picnic basket. It has enough body to hold its own against cheese and crackers, or fried chicken, or fajitas, or fresh apples and figs, or even coconut cake. And yes, I'm speaking from recent experience.
I'm currently working on re-editing and annotating Sound of a Voice That is Still. It's one of two Oberon books that features a winemaker's dinner. And yes, one of the wines served at the dinner is Viognier. Here's a glimpse of that.
Inside the cave the torches gave way to double rows of potted ficus trees, their branches strung with tiny white lights. The music grew steadily louder as they went forward, following the curving passage further into the earth. Shadowy side tunnels, their entrances guarded by double glass doors, led off at odd angles from the main chamber. Abruptly, the cave widened into a large grotto. A double ring of tables encircled an intimate dance floor. Rainbow colored lights set in the ceiling reflected off the glittering rock walls and even more lights twinkled from the centerpieces set on each of the tables.
Men in dark suits and women in colorful gowns drifted dream-like toward their seats. White-jacketed servers hurried about between them, balancing large trays of crudités on their hands. While others poured wine and water into the waiting glasses.
“It’s like fairyland,” Sam murmured, as they made their way to their table. He sounded slightly dazed.
Scout took a deep breath. The air was cool and dry. She could smell earth and wood and dark, red wine. A waiter sailed past with a tray of bruschetta redolent of garlic and cheese. She sighed happily. “No, it’s better than that. It’s real. And it’s perfect.”
Gail and Larry, Dan, Lucy and Siobhan were already seated when they arrived at the table. White wine sparkled in their glasses and the table was littered with plates of olives and brie and fried baby artichokes. The seat beside Siobhan was empty, but Scout had only a moment to wonder about it before its mystery was resolved.
“Ryan.” She smiled up at him in pleased surprise. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight?”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” he said, returning her smile as he shook hands with Nick.
As he seated himself, Ryan’s glance went to the glass in Siobhan’s hand. “What’s this? You started without me? And here I thought it was my drinking you were so worried about.”
Siobhan opened her mouth to respond, but then seemed to change her mind. She shook her head slightly and sipped at her wine instead.
Surprised, Scout studied them both more carefully. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other?”
Ryan shifted around to face her, his arm brushing casually against Siobhan’s as he did. “Well, you knew that I’ve been benched because of my leg, right? I was going stir-crazy before I got the idea to volunteer at Siobhan’s center.”
“Really?” Lucy regarded him curiously. “That’s got to be some switch from police work, huh?”
“You have no idea how different,” Ryan told her as he reached back to pick up his glass of Viognier. This time his arm just missed making contact when Siobhan leaned suddenly away from him, her hand moving quickly to pluck a stuffed mushroom from a tray of appetizers. “And you’d be amazed by how much I know about rocks right now.”
Sound Of A Voice That Is Still
Oberon Book 3.0
Some wounds take a long time to heal, others never do. Four months after being wounded in the line of duty, Ryan Henderson is beginning to fear that his is of the latter variety. He's a patient man, but a poor patient. As winter drags interminably on, he's growing desperate for distraction--anything that might take his mind off his injury, before he goes insane.
Siobhan Quinn could give the injured officer a lesson or two in living with pain. It's been ten years since her life was changed and her heart critically wounded as a result of the tragic accident that robbed her of her family. She knows firsthand how grief can cripple a soul and drive a sane mind over the edge.
Sometimes it seems like Spring will never come again. Sometimes, the only alternative to living in inner darkness, is death. Your own, or someone else's. In the depths of winter, Ryan and Siobhan will have to make a choice: to help each other heal, or die trying.
Available for Pre-Order: https://books2read.com/SoundVoice
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