Le beaujolais nouveau est arrive!!

As a professional caterer for nearly ten years now, the Christmas holiday season has become more of a chore than a celebration. Whether I'm in a client's home or our banquet facility, there are candy canes, mistle toe, fake wrapped gifts under fake Christmas trees. Beginning right after Thanksgiving and running straight through until Christmas Eve, it's 80-hour work weeks, eating the same "Holiday" food day in and day out (usually cold and left on the buffet), and no family time to speak of. And then there's the music.

The same tired old songs plying on a loop over and over and over again. Retail workers and package delivery drivers feel my pain.

I have long envied the families and work groups I've catered to. Smiling and drinking because they're happy, not necessarily because they're overworked, tired and sore. They still have the Christmas spirit. I'm not talking about the birth of our lord; I'm talking about the warm, fuzzy feeling from hanging out, baking, drinking, watching the Peanuts Christmas on TV.

Some people think it's cute when the cat plays with Christmas ornaments, then they pick them up and put them back on the tree. By the time Christmas arrives, it looks like I dumped the box of ornaments on the floor and walked away, which I may well have done. My tree dies because my back hurts from loading trucks that I can't be bothered to get down and water the tree. Last year my husband built a contraption of tubes connected to the wall that carries water down to the tree well and now we don't have to crawl behind the tree. Thank you Sug.

As a kid, like all kids I suppose, Christmas was my favorite holiday because of the gifts. Now, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday (second is my birthday. Again, the gifts.)

Thanksgiving is sort of like the calm before the storm for me. I know it's coming, and I have time to mentally prepare. I go to Chattanooga to see my family, we exchange Christmas wish lists and sometimes exchange gifts. I hug and kiss everyone because I'm about to head down into the trenches of Christmas catering. I usually need to decorate my Christmas tree in the week between Thanksgiving and the Storm.

And my favorite wine is released the week before Thanksgiving. It's Georges Duboeuf's Beaujolais nouveau (not to be confused with the Beaujolais primeur or Beaujolais villages.)

I am not a sommelier, but I know more now than I used to. I used to buy wine according to: 1. price
2. how pretty the label was.

In 2000 (Ironically, the year I began my catering career) I bought a bottle of wine because it fit my two criteria-- it was inexpensive and colorfully packaged. It was the Beaujolais nouveau I now consider to be my own, private tradition. For years I have anxiously stalked the liquor store clerks the day after day beginning at Halloween. "Is my wine in yet?":................"No, any day now."

I have been buying it right before Thanksgiving for years now--usually when we're getting ready to decorate our tree (this year we're doing a Christmas palm tree!) I force him to listen to carols, wrap gifts reflect on the upcoming holiday seasons and look at photos from seasons past. This is my one chance to play the part and enjoy the season before I'm inundated with all the food, song and drink that other people actually enjoy at this time of year.

Only this year have I discovered that there's actually a story to this wine. French government, arbitrarily it seems, prohibits the Beaujolais from being distributed or "corked" prior to the third Thursday in November. Hence, my connection to it at Thanksgiving. Apparently, I was slow to get on the booze train because people all over have been privy to this.

There are "roll out" parties across the country and restaurants arrange special dinners to pair with the wine the day it's released. I had no idea its arrival was celebrated by anyone but me. It's almost as if I've suddenly joined a club or fraternity of sorts.

The wine is a red and best served slightly chilled. It pairs easily with almost any food. It's more of a pedestrian wine that's easy to gulp, than it is a "serious" wine that needs to have its bouquet discussed. It's light and fun, like the holidays. Please, no political discussions when I've got my glass of wine in hand.

This year I plan on doing what I always do: enjoy my Thanksgiving with family, hug and kiss everyone goodbye for the next month and head down into the trenches of Christmas catering with January on my mind. This year, though, I think I'll share.

Sante!

Check out past labels

Check out Roll out party pictures

So long, Coach.

Since the day I stepped foot on UT's campus, Phillip Fulmer has been my coach. I never played football, although I am among the few "outsiders" who has had the pleasure of walking on Shields-Watkins field (although not in the checkerboard). But he's the only coach I've known.

People may think we're weird to celebrate 10 years since winning the national championship, but it was arguably the best thing to happen to our program. And people may think
Coach Fulmer leaving is the best thing to happen to the team.

You know what they say about opinions.

It's funny to me how, in a situation like this, it's almost like he's dead. A week ago I was cussing about losing games, now I feel like I'm mourning the loss of a family member. It's sort of like the saying, "You don't know what you have until it's gone."

Only time will tell if that saying is true.

I'm tired of losing football games, but I'm sad to see a Tennessee hero leave on such a down note.

Thanks for the memories, Coach.

Good luck.

I'm ready to go

I started packing my house a couple of months ago. It's funny, Mr. B. usually tells me if I have an idea that's hair-brained or something he thinks I shouldn't do. And usually, it frustrates me. This time, he let me start packing the house back in the summer. He knew we weren't financially ready to make the move and he hadn't begun his job search, but for some reason he let me pack our cold-weather clothes.

I left out the items suitable for fall (except for my Peyton Manning jersey, and I was sad when I had to unpack it and realized we were nowhere close to being ready to move.), but packed the heavy winter stuff.

I packed vases, photos and other non essential household items.

Now what I want to know is: where the hell were his admonishments about half-cocked ideas then?

I started packing because I wanted to be able move at a moment's notice. And I thought it might have worked.

I had a phone interview a couple of days ago. They asked if I would be able to come to Clearwater for a face-to-face interview. I explained that I was able to come at a moment's notice.

Well, they can't be bothered to return my phone call or email. What the hell is wrong with people?

Whatever. I guess I'm starting over.

I'll post the name of the hotel if I, in fact, don't receive the return phone call.