There are moments when I despair of my development as a wine-o.

When my nose is buried in a big glass of red and I come up for air, announce proudly, “cherries! I’d bet my life on it!”, and then be told it’s filled with blackberries and plums, I don’t think I’ll ever figure this wine thing out.

There are a lot of those moments, actually.

Then there are moments I think “you’ve come a long way, baby.”

I had one of those experiences last week. I had invited a couple of friends over for a casual summer dinner – orzo with feta and shrimp and bought the perfect bottle of Albarino to go with it. Read the full story

“You know, training for this marathon is really interfering with my wine drinking,” I groused to Dry one day as we shared wine talk from the previous night. She’d enjoyed an Albarino with fresh fish the previous night and was a bit hazy that morning. I had enjoyed nothing and gone to bed at 9 after eating pasta, only to wake up at the crack of dawn to run 8 miles. I was feeling glum. And sore.

It’s not that I regret my decision to train (and run!) in the San Francisco Marathon on July 26. I love, love, love running and the feeling I get after a long run is worth nearly every early bedtime. I’ve always been someone who wants to push her body to see exactly how far it can go.

But. Read the full story