Join us, please, for a wine-tasting dinner, last night. Retroactivity is a blogger's prerogative.
The aperitif is petrol, propelling us in our Subaru Baja away from tomorrow's compost heap of chicken, duck and goat hors d'oeuvres to the nearby town of Lexington.
The pre-dinner entertainment is a private recital for the pianist and his Valentine on the Mason & Hamlin piano at Lexington Presbyterian Church, replacement venue for the local community orchestra's next concert, now rescheduled for March 6 at this church, the hall with the best acoustics in town. Schumann, himself, would love the sound of this piano.
A short promenade across Main Street brings us to the Southern Inn and a table of six friends surrounded by 20-plus wine-clubbers about to enjoy Spanish tastes, presented by George and explained by an oenophile pointing at a map of Spain.
The wines are good (but what do I know?), the food better, and the conversation best of all, from catching up on the next generation to birth order, neuroscience, Republican'ts, Facebook lurkers, recent movies, snow removal, and even, consistent with the theme of the evening, parking practices in Valencia, Spain.
Of course we had to table our localvore intentions. I had almost forgotten how tasty petroleum products can be. Drink to me, drink to you, far more oil than our Subaru's aperitif!
"You didn't," says Virginia.
"Not a word," I say. "It was a splendid evening."
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