Submitted By: Gabby Burell; Luxemburg, WI; Family Plan Member Since 2019
For the most part, I follow every rule. I don’t cut in line. I almost always follow up a sneeze with a, “Bless you”, and I take my shoes off when entering other people’s homes, (More of an unspoken rule I would say.) Anyways, you can see that I am “mostly” a rule follower. I also follow seasonal wine guidelines. In my mind, summer months are for crisp, white wines on hot days. And the cold months, which, let’s face it, is practically a whole pregnancy length when living lakeside in Wisconsin, are for heartwarming red wines.
Speaking of delicious red wines on chilly days, I’m spouting inspiration from the glass of Gamba-aged Howell Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon that I have in my hands. The sweet tobacco notes that I get from the Gamba barrel make me briefly consider taking up a cigar habit. (Except, as much as I want to envision myself puffing a cigar as a cool 1920’s flapper, the reality would probably be along the lines of looking like Scarface, wearing “exhausted-mom” pajamas, just grateful to have finally gotten all the kids to bed.) Needless to say, I quickly brush away notions of a new cigar habit but bask in my flapper fantasy for a few more sips. Luckily, the tobacco notes within the wine have now encouraged me to change up my weekly dinner plans and incorporate some savory smoked venison. Perhaps I’ll even bat my eyes at my husband and plead that he brings out the charcoal grill for some barbeque. “Honey, your biceps just look so huge when you have a set of grill tongs in your hand.” … Works every time.
There is a tart, blackberry flavor that is tamed by subtle notes of chocolate, butterscotch, coconut, and vanilla components. Not that I am a wine connoisseur by any means, but personally, these flavor profiles are my favorite. I often will pair my end-of-the-night glass of wine with the accompanying late-night snack, which is almost always chocolate and Seth Meyers. (Seth Meyers also looking like a snack that is. *Wink*Wink*) So, to have a little extra hint of chocolate and butterscotch in a wine really satisfies my chronic sweet tooth and admiration for Late-Night-TV hosts.
Once my glass is empty and the curtains close on the Rockefeller Studio viewed on my TV screen, I recork my bottle and position it safely in the corner of my kitchen countertop. “Until tomorrow night, Gamba.” I walk down the hallway, peer into my kids’ bedroom to ensure they are still asleep, and then stealthily crawl my way into bed and cuddle up to my husband. He is already asleep, but I lay a gentle, red wine-lipped kiss on his forehead anyway. I then snuggle deeper into my plush comforter and wait for dreams of a muscular, grill-tong-wielding husband with butterscotch and vanilla-flavored kisses to sweep me off my feet. And if not just a dream tonight, I know that will be my reality tomorrow.
