The last couple of days have been nothing if not hectic.
Another Easter has come and gone. The family spent an enjoyable day together at my oldest daughter's residence over in Rockaway, where we feasted on lamb chops, shrimp, pasta and salad, accompanied by a wide selection of fine wine. Truth be told, I am not a great lover of wine and my entire life experience with the juice of the fermented grape revolves my youthful involvement with such upscale spirits as Ripple, Thunderbird, Mad Dog, Night Train, Wild Irish Rose or Boone's Farm.
Back in the day, I could have cared less about the lexicon of wine aficionados, aroma, balance, body, bouquet, dry, earthy, etc. The only words I have to describe these American classics are sweet, tasty