blind sparkling wine tasting

It's hard for me to articulate much of anything this morning because last night, my world got rocked. As in a warm, fuzzy, gluttonous, dream-like sequence of events which started with the promise of a blind sparkling wine tasting and then in walks a guy holding a bag which carries the makings for lobster rolls (with lobster from Cape Cod, I might add), followed by another two gentlemen with another four bottles of brown-bagged bubbly, and then I had to hold on to the counter for stability. Between the food and drink that was lying in my immediate future and the four-inch-high suede platform clogs I was sporting, my knees? They were a-knockin'.

And then the potato rolls hit the buttered cast iron griddle and I was hanging half my body out the window for air. This was a joke, right?

Nope. No joke. This was my real life Thursday night. There was also some triple-cream, pungently aromatic Brie, an aged goat's milk Gouda, sliced salami, hot and fresh-from-the-oven flatbread, and a green olive tapenade for spreading. And then the lobster salad, with the perfect meat to celery to mayo ratio was spooned onto the buttery, toasted rolls and I was just dumbfounded. Mouth agape. Turns out, there's nothing a male could do to be any more attractive than when they're handing you a homemade lobster roll on a toasted buttery potato bun. Nope. No, there is not. That is it. Take note, dudes.

I mean, get out of here with that claw meat!

As far as the bubbly goes, I jotted down tasting notes but they'll do no one any good. As usual, there was an interesting variety of bottles which challenged and excited our palates. But to be honest, I had checked out after my lobster roll. The names of the bottles will have to remain "TBD" until I've been pinched or woken up and the dream-sequence has ended.

Ain't bubbly grand?