One Epic Evening

"I forget the name of the place, I forget the name of the girl; but the wine was Chambertin"
 
       --Hilaire Belloc

An outstanding bottle of Burgundy.  My first Chambertin, consumed among great pals during a dinner recently in my honor.  I remember the place too.  And the menu. Lobster, New York Strips done Pittsburgh style, a little creamed spinach, a little bit of potatoes, strong coffee with little fried doughnuts crusted with raw sugar and cinnamon.

And, later, after a lot of laughter and great conversation, the most outstanding Cognac I have ever tasted...

Remy Martin Louis XIII.  The menu said "The youngest eau-de-vie in this legendary blend is 50 years old.  100% Grande Champagne.  Hallmark bouquet of truffles, roasted chestnuts and prunes." Exactly right and exactly perfect.  This elixir is so expensive that I may not have it again for a long time, but it was so wonderful that if I never have it again, I am pretty good with that.

Thanks to the great folks at The Palm, my fine friends who were in either in attendance or who sent best wishes although they could not be there in person.  It was a night I will never forget as long as I live.  An Epic evening, INDEED!

Herself. RIP,

I loved her a long time ago. Now, at 95, she is gone. For all of us who loved her, and who loved and married red headed Irish women afterwards....she is the prototype. The Icon.  Maureen O'Hara. Bless you darling.

ML

Nocturne

He hadn't meant to stay out so late. But in that part of town that is what you did.  All quiet little bars and cafes, it was made for that purpose. And he had nothing else to do.

After what happened a year ago, he had planned to move away.  To a place without romantic places. There were plenty of them around. His only goal the finding of a small room with one good window to look out of.  Where he could sit for the remaining time.

A season and a short street foiled his plan.  Before he could decide on the quintessentially unromantic town, autumnal chill slipped into the night air.  The leaves began their blazing turn. He realized he would never leave. So he stayed.  And he walked down that street again.

The drizzle didn't help.  He sat in an old bar drinking Calvados for quite a while listening to Kind of Blue playing in the background.  Then Lush Life came on and he had to go.  Stepping out into the cold misty rain even the brandy and his ancient Burberry trench coat could not completely push the chill away.  He lit a cigarette with a scarred gold lighter.  The initials, "ML" barely visible after all the years.

A young couple walked slowly by.  Leaning into each other to stay under their umbrella. Heads close, lost in an assumed future. A quiet giggle drifted toward him.  He watched them until they turned the corner. The street remained, lamplight twinkling in the rain like liquid holiday lights.

The image of the couple in his mind, he smiled and turned toward home. It would soon be Christmas. He needed to go buy a turkey.  A bottle or two of Margaux. And a few presents.