![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkemeraldsI had a wonderful dream the other night in which I was attending a wine tasting in a banquet hall of the sort you'd expect in a castle. There was a dais, along which a Last-Supper-esque table was arrayed, with a frankly Christ-like figure at the center dispensing the wine samples.
This Lord of the Wine told me we were going to taste a white wine next, and I said I wasn't a big white wine fan, but I'd be curious to try it. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's a 1911 Chablis."
"A Chablis? I didn't think Chablis could get that old."
"This one can."
He pours a sample into my small cordial glass and I taste it. It is the Elixir of Life: rich, complex, neither sweet nor dry, golden, almost glowing. If wine like this existed in the world, I'd honestly give up water. Even food.
That was the dream.
As it happens, I've been reading a little book published in 1911 called "The Science of Getting Rich," by Wallace Wattles, which is actually far more spiritual than the title would suggest, and has aged quite well. I figure that's at least part of what the dream was about. Believe me, I'm re-reading with greater attention and care now that I know Jesus thinks it's good.
But I'm not above taking a dream literally. I went out tonight and got myself a bottle of Chablis--a 2001, as the local grocery store was fresh out of 1911. Who knew that it's an Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée and not just cheap generic white California jug wine from the 70s? It's made from chardonnay grapes in the northern end of the Burgundy valley. It doesn't taste like the elixir of life, but it's pretty damn good. People who know how to describe wine say it tastes of "stones." I can kind of see that.
Furthermore, it goes nicely with shortbread, which I just made a batch of. I adore shortbread and have developed a nearly foolproof system for producing perfect wedges of buttery goodness every time. There are about three dozen of said wedges cooling on racks in the kitchen right now. Well, three dozen minus, umm...three, I think.
For the synchronicity: a consultant I'm working with is German and speaks no Mandarin. His wife is Taiwanese and speaks no German. They communicate in English, their common language, and their children are trilingual.
Which is cool in itself. But this consultant overheard me discussing the Pimsleur language-learning method with another coworker today and offered me the use of his Pimsleur Mandarin CD set. These babies cost $250 per level, and he's got three levels that he's willing to share.
I'll drink to that.
This Lord of the Wine told me we were going to taste a white wine next, and I said I wasn't a big white wine fan, but I'd be curious to try it. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's a 1911 Chablis."
"A Chablis? I didn't think Chablis could get that old."
"This one can."
He pours a sample into my small cordial glass and I taste it. It is the Elixir of Life: rich, complex, neither sweet nor dry, golden, almost glowing. If wine like this existed in the world, I'd honestly give up water. Even food.
That was the dream.
As it happens, I've been reading a little book published in 1911 called "The Science of Getting Rich," by Wallace Wattles, which is actually far more spiritual than the title would suggest, and has aged quite well. I figure that's at least part of what the dream was about. Believe me, I'm re-reading with greater attention and care now that I know Jesus thinks it's good.
But I'm not above taking a dream literally. I went out tonight and got myself a bottle of Chablis--a 2001, as the local grocery store was fresh out of 1911. Who knew that it's an Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée and not just cheap generic white California jug wine from the 70s? It's made from chardonnay grapes in the northern end of the Burgundy valley. It doesn't taste like the elixir of life, but it's pretty damn good. People who know how to describe wine say it tastes of "stones." I can kind of see that.
Furthermore, it goes nicely with shortbread, which I just made a batch of. I adore shortbread and have developed a nearly foolproof system for producing perfect wedges of buttery goodness every time. There are about three dozen of said wedges cooling on racks in the kitchen right now. Well, three dozen minus, umm...three, I think.
For the synchronicity: a consultant I'm working with is German and speaks no Mandarin. His wife is Taiwanese and speaks no German. They communicate in English, their common language, and their children are trilingual.
Which is cool in itself. But this consultant overheard me discussing the Pimsleur language-learning method with another coworker today and offered me the use of his Pimsleur Mandarin CD set. These babies cost $250 per level, and he's got three levels that he's willing to share.
I'll drink to that.