Memorial Day Weekend in Davidson

(Listening to "Waltz of the Mushrooms" by Buddy Rich and His Orchestra, and sipping Jolly Pumpkin La Roja Artisan Amber Ale)

Lindz and I spent Memorial Day Weekend on the shore of Lake Norman with her parents, her grandmother and a friend. The hideous drudgery of work faded quickly:



We did very little outside of eating and drinking. One thing we did do was enjoy an opportunity to play around a bit. Here I am performing a touch-and-go in the Boeing 757 simulator (the hand on the throttles is Lindz's dad; he has umpteen thousand hours logged in this aircraft type):



("Nowhere Fast" by Incubus)

Lindz's gracious mother did most of the cooking, but I got a chance to hog the kitchen on Sunday. I made bacon-wrapped water chestnuts in a mustard barbecue sauce. I had fun with the sauce; such diverse items as a can of Coke, some ginger, cinnamon, a banana and some coffee went in there. Lindz's dad and I cooperatively grilled the pineapple and ribeye steaks. There is a large, gregarious social circle in the condo development there, and communal cookouts occur regularly. People enjoyed the water chestnuts, which I offered to everyone until they were gone. I gave credit to my mother, who was the source of the idea for me. She never fiddled around with the sauce so much, though.

("Year of the Knife" by Tears for Fears)

We all did plenty of nothing, but today (Memorial Day proper, that is), we drove up to the Lexington area and toured the Childress winery. The land is occupied by an impressively beautiful, new, Italian villa-styled facility. The grounds were meticulously maintained, and the pastoral views were impressive to anyone but the blind or the terminally pessimistic. This place was stunning. The vines are so young that they are not yet being harvested (the winery vinifies grapes from other parts of the state, mostly from the Yadkin Valley). NASCAR money made it all possible, or that is my understanding. The newness and slickness of the grounds lowered my expectations ("Frass Canyon," a fictional winery in Sideways, comes to mind). We had a pleasant tour, and the facilities are impressive. We saw stainless steel fermentation tanks, French oak cooperage, a temperature-and-humidity-controlled cellar (with chandeliers and tables, available for your subterranean gatherings) and state-of-the-art bottling equipment.

("Love in Vain" by Robert Johnson)

We decided to have some lunch before tasting. All the slick landscaping and architecture led me to expect overpriced, undersized and pretentious food. Wrong. I had a very tasty panini, but dig this - I had life-changing potato salad. Everyone at the table was talking about it, but I'm writing about my reaction to it. It was a salad of roasted potatoes, scratch-made mayonnaise, herbs, red onion and capers. It was a revelation. It just so happens that the chef was the person serving us (the place was busy), and she was very pleased to discuss the ins and outs of her potato salad with us. Some of her shockingly red hair was escaping from her chef's cap, and she was utterly devoid of pretense or arrogance. She just likes to cook, and she cooks for a living. I sat, eating her potato salad, enjoying the view, quivering with envy. I didn't let it spoil my time; I just enjoyed the experience.

The wine sucked. Well, no, it didn't exactly suck; it was quite drinkable. It's just the first winery I've ever been to where I was unable to distinguish the Merlot from the Cabernet Sauvignon from the Cabernet Franc. The three were utterly interchangeable. Quite a feat, I suppose. No other winery of which I am aware has done it.

That damned potato salad was so good, I'm getting misty right now.

("Limehouse Blues" by the Gene Krupa Trio)