imaginative backyards, moving, and the perfect summer wine: Shaya Verdejo.

When I was in kindergarten, my family flew across the ocean in corduroy pants and tightly woven wool sweaters. Our minds open to new beginnings, we relocated to a spacious US government apartment in West Germany. It was the first time I tasted snow.

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That summer my sisters and I explored the woods on the government base, picking magnanimous blackberries and climbing trees; the long timbers would bend after storms, and we would often pretend they were a springboard into the sky, jumping on wooden beams deeply implanted in the soil. Our imaginations were laden with character.

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image credit: lettershometoyou

I often wonder how that move effected my outlook. Or perhaps the move back to Texas. Or even the move to Ohio. Regardless, living in a series of regions throughout our Westernized landscape has changed me. Some personality traits I know have suited me well, others I suppose have been hard memes to break.

After our last move from San Antonio, the sommelier and I have finally settled into a permanent home. One we can call our own. It was a difficult and arduous process, especially once we realized our mortgage broker was slightly less than desirable, and in which time it was too late to rectify. Nevertheless, we are now watching as Rhea discovers what she loves about her new space.

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I have now begun to wonder what effect our decisions have on our sweet girl. How will she feel about living in the suburbs? Will she favor downtown trips, museums, and long distance travel? Will her mind be open to explore other cultures, their ideas, ways of life? Like my adventures into the German woods have helped shape my idea of beauty… we want to ensure our daughter’s landscape is enlightened.

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As I sip on a clean, crisp 2012 Shaya Verdejo from Juan Gil, I suddenly realize we, like the bright acid of the wine, are a gateway for our child’s world. With every hint of minerality, grapefruit, and peach nose, I am reminded of her sweet goodness and old world heart. She’s a beauty like no other, light and airy. Like the $14 Shaya, she’s perfect in this moment.

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Plus, there’s plenty of backyard Texas for us to explore.

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Play well. Drink well. Cheers.

tasting our memories.

It’s amazing how quickly we forget: the peace in knowing we have no agenda for the day; the tranquility of a moonlight walk over cobblestone streets; the taste of perfection in local eateries and wines. The sommelier and I have been ‘home’ for two weeks now, and already I am beginning to notice the regression of the calm I found sitting in Paris, watching the world whirl by.

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I first noticed the slight twinge of anxiety as we left for the airport in Istanbul, thinking of work timelines, housing issues, and upcoming professional commitments. Coupled with a normalization to GMT, I arrived in Texas with extreme jet lag and trouble sleeping. The only thing that awoke my senses the morning after my arrival was listening to the excitement in my daughter’s voice as she realized her parents were home.

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As I’ve settled back into my own version of the day-to-day, my memories keep bringing me back to the places that my heart rejoiced in the most. In Paris, it was walking on the Seine, taking in the beauty of the everyday statues that invited us into the city.

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In Beaune, my peace was found in the soothing tannins of Burgundian wines, coupled with duck sausage and lingering sunsets.

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It was the care with which the eggs were poached, and the expertise in which the hollandaise was perfected. It was the taste of the powdered terrine, the earthiness that complemented the Domaine Germain Premier Cru that graced our table.

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After partaking for hours, it was stumbling through the cobblestone streets, getting lost in the roundabouts, but somehow finding myself in front of ringing church bells. I could taste the metal in the molded, clanging calls to daylight of the small French town.

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In England, it was hugs and kisses from family, belly laughs, and home cooked meals with ale, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted potatoes.

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It was watching the swans on a mirrored lake.

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And pretending I was a princess in a castle.

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In Istanbul, it was the excitement of seeing the Blue Mosque for the first time, and realizing I was just one speck of history that had occurred there.

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It was the fresh herbs that graced every plate, engaging my senses, and fortifying my soul with nutritious goodness.

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Back in Texas, as I lie in bed, dreaming of all the tastes that crossed my palate, I am grateful that the sommelier and I had such an adventure. An opportunity to rediscover each other, our loves, our fears, and our taste for something different.

Now if we can only remember to remember.

Drink well. Eat well. Live well.

Cheers.

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I STILL HATE PICKLES