Thanks To Boursin Cheese

Listen up all you so-called friends, family, fans and followers. I demand, DEMAND to know right this minute why none of you have told me about Boursin cheese?

*hands on hips tapping foot waiting patiently for an answer*

I have seen Boursin cheese on the grocery shelves virtually every time I have shopped. I have never picked it up, but have seen it enough to know its there. During the week, I had to stop in to pick up a few things, saw this happy little box sitting on the shelf with its little picture of a garlic clove, and thought, “Meh, I’ll give it a try”, flung it in the basket, fully expecting it to be something like Cheez Whiz with garlik (intentionally spelled with a k).

Tonight I thought I’d crack open the box, unfurled the silvery foil surrounding it, and thought, “Helllooooooooo Boursin Cheese” and stuck my knife in a tried a bit of this creamy, crumbly, garlicky, formage frais epice and shot right up to heaven, said hi to Peter, and came back down to earth. I took a sip of my wine, a lovely, lovely, lovely 2005 Spencer Roloson Tempranillo, gave my head a little shake and tried the Boursin again. Zoom. Peter said, “You’re back?” to which I replied, “Just for a sec, I have to get back to the Boursin”. As I headed back to earth, I could hear him shouting after me, “Bring me some back with youuuuuuuuu” as he faded away into the clouds.

In other cheese news, I also picked up a wedge of Romanello pepato from the Italian Centre Shop. A few weeks ago I was shopping at the 51st Avenue store, and I happened, for once, to not need anything from the meat, cheese and olive section. But there I was standing, with nary a customer to be found. I was stunned. My favourite server happened to be behind the counter, and he asked “Miss, is there anything I can help you with?”. I stood there stupidly for a few seconds, and said, as a woman with fluctuating hormones and mood swings would, “No, no, I need nothing, nothing at all thank you, but I will take 100 grams of the peppercorn salami thank you very much”. So whilst he sliced and stacked, I wandered over to the few free samples of cheese they had out, and much to my delight tried this Romanello pepato and also fell in love. Not quite to the heavens in love, but in love enough to take a note for future reference. The Romanello pepato is a hardy yellow cheese, with peppercorns throughout. It’s got a delicious texture and a zing with those peppercorns. It also accompanies my Tempranillo quite nicely thank you.

So about the crappy part of the weekend. I smashed up my car in yesterday’s freshly fallen snow (I’m fine, car is driveable, but cracked and looking not at all like the brand new car it is). That’s crappy. And my husband is in Calgary, and despite endless handwashing and Purelling at the Rockyview Hospital, has come down with a serious case of the gastrointenstinal bug that is sweeping the hospital. So he’s at his Mum’s house in Calgary having long intense conversations with the crapper.

But we Walsh’s are hopeless optimists, and I’m making the best of it by roasting some potatoes, warming up some boeuf bourguignon, writing to you, and enjoying a few glasses of my new favourite wine, a 2005 Tempranillo from Spencer Roloson. Yes, I know I said it before, but I’m hoping one of you is taking notes, and wondering if a case of that would be an appropriate Christmas gift to me. It would be. A perfect gift. And Bin 104 happens to carry it, in case you are wondering where to pick it up.

 

 

 

Cheers!

Some times, just some times, I wish I would just kick back and relax without feeling the urge to take pictures of our supper, our wine, then write about it. But, I love it, so even on a quiet Saturday evening such as this, with a tomato-beef-mushroom pasta sauce on the burble on the stove, and a glass of wine beside me, I get an simple joy posting my little diary entry for the day. There’s a picture of the wine as you can see. The sauce kept steaming up my lens, so I gave that up lest the steam would ruin some electronic doohickeys in the camera.

My readership dropped the last day, and I am feeling a wee bit twitchy that I’ve lost you. Or, maybe you all have proper lives and are socializing with human beings and not sitting in front of the computer 75% of you waking day.

For your entertainment pleasure, here I am juggling flaming torches in one hand, while standing on a ball, holding a hoop in the other hand and hoping the tiger waiting to jump through it ate his supper.

Believe it or not, Michael and I are going to integrate with humanity this evening as we take in the play Any Night at the Art Barns. This is a good thing, because presently we are back-to-back in our computer rooms, each of sitting at our respective computer-machines, glass of wine beside each, and both of us plugged into our own iPods – me listening to U2, and Michael to Emerson Lake and Palmer. Maybe this is why we’ve lasted together over 24 years?

At the rate I’m going through my wine, it will be a surprise if I can make it to the Arts Barns without tipping over. Especially since we are forgoing supper until after the play. I don’t know about you, but I find it awfully uncomfortable sitting for 90 minutes or whatever it is with a tummy full of food. And we won’t even talk about how I feel if that food decides to ferment into gas, and well… you know…. I’m not quite at the age where I’d be proud to let er rip without a care in the world. Not in public anyway. Close. But not yet.

To give this post “some” substance, let’s talk about the wine I’m drinking. I picked this Tierhoek Chinen Blanc (not pronounced SHIN-IN BLANK as I do, but more like SHANNON BLAWNK). It’s a lovely, lovely, lovely white from South Africa. I met this wine at Bin 104. They have stellar staff at Bin 104, and I highly recommend that if you need wine, but not quite sure where to start, to go here. The staff are extremely helpful, friendly, and approachable. The place has the appearance of being a snobby wine store, but it’s not. It’s got the goods AND friendly, helpful staff. They didn’t have their faces buried in computers and clipboards as they do at another favourite wine store. And if that isn’t cause enough to go there, it is also just a few doors away from The Bothy.

If you are going to the play tonight and see us, please come by and say hello.