Lia Huber

A few weeks ago, I got a call from a friend of mine who said that he was working with Clos du Bois on a campaign to raise money for women’s heart health during the month of May (see www.toasttomom.com or click on the link below to send a virtual e-card. For each card sent, Clos du Bois will give WomenHeart $1), that they were thinking of doing a blog, and that he thought I’d be perfect for it. Could I get it planned, up and launched in a couple of weeks?

Yes, the deadline was brutal. But to help you understand what a kismet deal this seemed to be, I need to give you a bit of background about my own personal connections with Clos du Bois. First of all, their vineyards and winery are landmarks in California’s northern Sonoma County, where I live (yes, it’s gorgeous here). Second, it’s an American winery with a French name—I’m an American who has been a Francophile since I was eight, when I set as one of my life goals to attend the Sorbonne in Paris (yep, I did it). Third, my husband, Christopher, and I spent our first anniversary up here at a friend’s house (we were still living in San Francisco at the time) amidst their vineyards and guess where those grapes were slated to go when they were good and ready? You guessed it, Clos du Bois. So from my perspective, I thought it was a great fit. And it turns out they did too.

What LS from Clos du Bois said was that they were looking for someone who ’sucks the marrow out of life,’ (to quote Thoreau) who travels with a sense of curiosity and is inquisitive about everything, someone for whom food and wine and travel and well-being are all intertwined—just like the people who buy their wines. And they found me, and I’m glad they did.

I’ll be sharing musings each week as life unfolds. It may be about a toast I composed over the weekend (our friend has a BIG birthday coming up on Sunday), or a roast I concocted (did I mention I’m a recipe developer?), or some nutty thing I heard on the radio and wanted to get your input on, or a dispatch upon return from a remote island (leaving this Tuesday, back Saturday). In short, anything life has to offer that makes me stop and go, ‘hmmm’ and leaves me thinking visitors might too.

I’m excited about this blog. I’m excited about raising money for WomenHeart. Stop by, send-an e-toast, and watch the virtual glass fill as we swirl around our notions and towards the goal in the days to come.

Cheers,
Lia

www.swirlingnotions.com

I have a bottle of rose chilling in the refrigerator. That, to me, means summer. Never mind the official date. Never mind the fact that the thermometer just topped 80. It’s the prospect of popping a wine that looks as crisp and cheerful as it tastes that marks the change of season to me.

I became a rose convert in France over a decade ago (ironically, in early January). I was having dinner at a little restaurant on the square in Haute de Cagnes, an inland hill town between Nice and Cannes, and had just ordered a plate of salt and chile roasted shrimp. The proprietor, a man from the area who clearly knew how to cook, suggested a rose to go with my dish. I flatly refused. To me, pink wine meant cloying and sweet, and at that point my taste had moved beyond that. But he insisted. And when he arrived at my table with a platter of hissing shrimp, he was carrying a glass of pale pink wine and wouldn’t leave until I took a bite and a sip.

To say it was a great pairing would be cheapening it. The wine was crisp and dry and yet somehow full of flavor. Against the spice of the shrimp it felt like jumping into a cool, refreshing ocean and then licking your lips. It was heavenly.

But then I came back to the States and the pinks were still sugar-bombs. Not so any more. In the past few years, I’ve been delighted to see a new breed of American roses coming out that are giving that Haute de Cagnes rose a run for its money. Several from right here in Sonoma County.

Today, while I still enjoy a crisp rose with salt and chile shrimp, rose to me now means leisurely dinners with people I love, lingering on the porch or nibbling from the grill, when conversations linger as long as the sunsets. If you haven’t already, check out some roses this season. While it isn’t an exact replica of that first fabulous rose pairing (I’ll work on that recipe though), this recipe should do the trick. Enjoy — and join me in a toast to the promise of summer!