Been five days now. Okay, that’s a lie, it has been only four but for the sake of argument, (and not making me sound like a total junkie) let’s just say it has been five. Five days since I walked those bending and narrow streets, your weight buoyant and springy beneath each one of my steps. Five-ish days since I felt the salt on my lips and took deep pant inducing breaths of a memory so powerful and specific that the very idea it could be recreated seemed impossibly laughable, until I had you in my mouth again….
“I’ll work the class. Please” My voice over my shoulder, outwardly nonchalant in the direction of the coworker that is kind enough to have removed scheduling shifts from my plate. When I printed out the monthly schedule I was elated to find that my blithely tossed out request had been heard, I was to be working the now annual Sherry tasting at the shop with Lucia Ramos Perez, our California ambassador for Lustau, the Sherry bodega that is so deeply tucked into my soul that it is more a tattoo or bumpy scar than a memory.
I poured the wines while Lucia spoke. Listened as her rolling tongue spread information and flicked at the lobes of those that had, as of yet, not been privy to the heart thumping pulse of that not too soft, southern Spanish touch. Walked about on my tippy toes, my eyes falling upon the faces….the ones wincing right before they let the, “what’s that?” spill down their throats. Before they let the majesty of one of the longest lived and coveted, underappreciated and misunderstood wines leave their footprint, deeply ingrained upon their palates. My greedy fingers fumbling to drop the just poured bottles on the tasting bar before I could, hopefully, scurry off to tuck my elongated sniffer into my awaiting glass, the rolling Spanish tongue like a curved finger, pulling me back in.
“I forgot the potato chips” a snap of my pudgy fingers and stomp of my work weary feet the day after our Sherry tasting. As successful as the event had been I felt that “you twat” lump in the pit of my tummy as I pictured those winching faces being soothed by the ever-so-sultry stroke, and toothsome crunch of perfectly fried potatoes. I went ahead and sold a bottle of Fino the next morning, (the fourth day) with a puffy bag of Jose Andres potato chips swearing it was to be the mind bending combination I had lustfully envisioned in my still spinning head. Still not sure if it was a sense of accountability, responsibility or sheer jealousy that sent me to the back kitchen of the shop, swollen bag of chips, cold bottle of Lustau En Rama Fino de Jerez de la Frontera Sherry twisted between my fingers, raw need gnawing at my insides…doesn’t matter, it was there that I felt the scrape, the tension of my flesh, the reopening of the vein that had gone too dry waiting for this exact kind of moment.
That En Rama Fino, rare and speaking of the inland property from once it came, full and sturdy marching across my salt and potato stained tongue, well if felt like I had just folded my bare frame into the body of a lover it had been far too long since I’d touched. The wine growing and unfolding to proportions almost too immense for my mouth to contain. Almost…
My heart racing and craving, needing and aching for that one, more, not, too, soft touch I rummaged through the half-full bottles from the night before, the salinity of the last indulgence still lilting about on my breath as I picked up this bottle and that before finding just the wine I was aching for.
A sweaty piece of raw milk Manchego washed away on a river of Lustau N.V. Almacenista “Vides” Palo Cortado de Jerez Sherry and my day, while still morning of the “day after” was irreplaceably ruined in the most insatiable way, ever. Salty, oily, slightly waxy cheese melting along the sides of my tongue and the warm, charred, layered and soup cube scented wine drug its curves around my mouth and took me for a ride that I find myself, here at well past midnight, five days later, fucking wanting more than I could possibly articulate.
I there anything more crazy making than wines that make you
Touch me again