Yesterday I went on an annual pilgrimage to the liquor store. My city is dry, because of prudes, so getting the sweet nectars of Dionysus requires a bit of driving.
I filled my cart with all the holiday classics, including liquor for my favorite kind of drinking, breakfast drinking. There is nothing better than a hefty pour of Bailey’s in your Christmas coffee. Thank you baby Jesus for allowing me to get buzzed at 8 am!
My cart was full of all sorts of goodies, as one of my favorite gifts to give is booze. I find it makes people incredibly grateful. Since I only liquor shop once a year my cart looked like an alcoholic’s cheat day just begging for a trip to the emergency room.
Pushing my cart up to the checkout is when I realized I still can’t look a cashier in the eye at a liquor store. I am 35 years old and as soon as I start stacking bottles on the counter I feel guilty as shit. For the love of god I don’t know why. I never even drank underage and now that I am 14 years above age, I still can’t help but get all jittery and a severe case of diarrhea of the mouth. What the hell is wrong with me.
I swear every bottle that checker scanned incited me to explain who it was for, how much they will drink in a day, and how I promise I will take their keys away if they get wasted. Multiply that times the number of bottles I purchased yesterday, and you have the makings of a hell of an awkward one sided conversation.
As soon as I got to the parking lot I started making weird noises to shake the awkward off. On lookers probably saw me and thought I had already been on the sauce… that or I had some sort of syndrome. Maybe one day I will be able to shop for liquor like a normal human.
You know there are fews palates as refined in this world as mine. This is not at all true, but sometimes I like to pretend I have good taste. Last night though, I really believe that I made a gastronomical breakthrough.
I had had a long day on my feet working at another bridal show for the bakery. I had handed out hundreds of cake samples and cake balls. And I had assured and equal amount of brides that their rustic chic wedding idea was completely original and brilliant, all while standing on arthritic knees crying to be drugged. It is still better than teaching though! No doubt about that!
Anyway once I got home Ryan and I order our dinner of champions, pizza, and I grabbed some wine and a pre-pizza snack. This is where the magic happened. I had a delightful Pinot Grigio vintage of the $5.99 variety, and I poured myself a big ole glass over ice cubes, because like I say, I’m classy.
As I sipped I tore open my Haribo gummy worms. Dear god it was amazing! The dry fruitiness of the wine paired with the delicate gelatinized sweetness of the worms created a wonderous reaction on my tastebuds. It was sweet, but not too sweet. Tart, but not at all in the slutty way. In short, it was heaven on earth.
I have created a new masterpiece: The Pinot Grigio Gummy Worm-tail (it’s like a cocktail, but better because it has less cock and more worm). It is so much more dignified than vodka gummy bears, and it has a far superior flavor profile to the lowly jello shot.
I’ve no doubt once the public learns of this new concoction Food and Wine will write a profile on it, Oprah will fly me to Chicago to make her one, and Martha Stewart will put me in her magazine. Ok maybe Oprah won’t call, but I bet Kathy Lee and Hoda would take me on their show. And you know if those ladies want you, you have really made it big!