Today is Beaujolais Day. Tis the 3rd Thursday of November.
Now long before the Japanese started bathing in the stuff I found my way to Nice, France. OK, I find the Japanese ridiculous. But I digress. Nice was one of the few places that we actually stopped for a while. We got in there very late one January evening. It was 1979. We’d heard previously of the tradition of the Beaujolais Nouveau and even had some, but my real memory is of Nice and the Beaujolais Nouveau. We arrived late and Madame Sophie ran the pension. She was part of an old Polish aristocracy that had run out of money. The French government had taken over half of the, well, essentially it was a palace, and Madame Sophie ran a pension in the other half. Our train had been delayed and it was very late and we were tired. She waited as we had reservations. She gave us our room and we crashed out. I remember reading an article in Rolling Stone that night about a serial killer that was terrorizing Florida by the name of Ted Bundy. The next morning Madame Sophie got our butts out of bed at the crack of dawn and made us go to the beach. I shit you not. What’s amazing about this is that it was the only sunny day in the two weeks we spent in Nice. Thanks Madame Sophie. Actually that’s not all that I thank Madame Sophie for. She taught me to “make zee om-let d’ way d’ French do”. She sent us to stores that had gone out of business 20 years previously to get ingredients in a language we didn’t understand, but it was quite the adventure. And I make a damned fine omelet. Thanks Madame Sophie.
Why do I remember France so fondly? Besides being young and impressionable, it could be my next home. Seriously. You can’t expect me to stay here if this happens.
OK, I really didn’t add the last line. And really, stuff like this makes me feel sorry for the RINOs. Y’all must be wanted to, well, move to France. I mean I love those French Fries and that French Toast. I never got behind that Freedom Fries thing. I mean really. Seriously. She gets the nomination with that asshat or any combination of the two and I’m friggin’ out of here. I’m par lay vous-ing and on the next Air France out of here. But I digress.
Back to the Beaujolais Nouveau. So far I’m only into one of them and I’ve had too much of it to open the second one. Yeah, generally these are really acidic and tannic and can sometimes hurt your tongue. Not the George Duboeuf Villages. It’s got some character, some nuance to the tannins and a little bit of Dr. Pepper on the back palate. I had it with broiled salmon with lemon and cracked pepper and it was very nice. I’ll get to the rest of them Saturday night but for now, I’ve got to give the George Dubouef Villages a big thumbs up. So in honor of all things French I wish you all a Happy Beaujolais Day!