I’m not a big drinker. I joke about needing a drink, I think about needing a drink, I even drink apple juice in a wine goblet just to trick myself. Truth be told, the smell of beer makes me sick, and the only wine I can handle is that of a Cooler variety or a nice cheap Port.
The kind with a lid that you unscrew.
Because I’m just klassy like that.
I love to eye cocktails that come with tiny umbrellas on a menu, but rarely ever get one because, well, I need to be conscious at least until my children are blissfully asleep. And I have little to no tolerance for alcohol.
At a homeschool park day not long ago, I was sitting with my beloved group of other harried homeschool moms, and we started giggling about our dream cocktails.
While keeping at least one laser eye firmly planted on our children.
Since a few of the moms are in a family way, they delighted in describing the perfect adult beverage, since between pregnancy and breast feeding, they are a good year or more away from imbibing.
My friend Michelle told us about a product called ChocoVine, which is a dutch chocolate/fine red wine combo. At first I was repelled by such a mating, but knowing that I have a weakness for cheap Port, she strongly suggested that I give it a try.
Well. It’s been in the back of my mind ever since, and I have asked Fiddledaddy to look for it when he is doing the grocery shopping. Since I have been unable to fulfill my wifely shopping duties courtesy of an extended knee injury. And I’ll tell you what, Fiddledaddy is doing a fabulous job, but I do miss the grocery shopping. I never thought I’d say that.
I miss it so much that I talked my family into taking me to Publix on Sunday. Promising I would ride in the complimentary putt-putt electrical scooter. The one that goes from 0 to 1/4 mph. Which is roughly the speed of smell.
I went up and down each aisle, rejoicing in the fact that I was really doing the grocery shopping. When we arrived at the wine aisle, I began scanning the shelves, hoping above all hope.
EUREKA! Fiddledaddy spotted it next to the dessert wines. The ones with the caps that unscrew. PUT IT IN THE BASKET AND BE CAREFUL! Fiddledaddy made wretching sounds as he loaded it into my cart, vocalizing his opinion of the dirty brown appearance of the contents. Looks like mud, he offered. Ignoring him, I drove to the nearest check-out, putting the pedal to the metal. Which really made no difference at all. In fact, I think the thing goes faster traveling in reverse, which is what I may try next time.
After dinner, I eagerly looked forward to giving this Choco-Vine a whirl in my wine glass. Making a mental note to avoid my nightly Tylenol PM. You know, for safety sake. I would hate to end up on the news:
“Middle aged housewife mixes lethal combination of cheap dessert wine and pain medication, and lay drooling on the linoleum until help could arrive.”
Who needs that kind of publicity?
Fiddledaddy handed me a glass, reminding me that I might be disappointed. All the build-up and all. Ignoring him, I took a sip.
Sing with me off-key, “Oh, sweet mystery of life at last I’ve found you…”
Absolutely everything I dreamed it would be. And happily, they do not list the sugar content. Ignorance is bliss, I always say.
Cheap Port Wine, you are dead to me. I know that I need to pace myself. Given my affinity to jump off the deep end when I discover something to my liking. For example, think an entire column of Girl Scouts Thin Mints.
Which come to think of it, would be delightful with a wine glass of Choco-Vine.