Can’t Stop. Won’t Stop.

The grilling continues.  It’s not despite the weather.  The weekend was a prelude to spring with temps stretching to reach 70˚F.

Rosé in hand I lingered at the grill.  Bratwurst and marinated chicken thighs sizzled over the charcoal.  Sweet smoke from the burning embers filled the air.  Inside squares of polenta crisped in the oven.  Chopped mint, oregano, and rosemary soaked in a bath of butter waiting to annoint the food once it was plated.

Tonight’s rosé came from the beaches of Provence.  Its flavors and texture remind me of strawberries and cream.  There is a chalky saline finish to the wine which gives it flair and complexity. It is definitely a rosé for white wine drinkers.

This weekend’s weather was a bit of an aberration.  March in the PNW is usually more of a lion.  Spring does not usually appear so abruptly.  With that I have this to say: more, more, more balmy evenings with waning sunshine.  Pretty please!

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