Oenomatopoeia

This may come as a bit of a shock, but it turns out wine is quite nice, and vineyards are pretty places. Who knew?

Robbie brought his friend Emily and me along yesterday on a hike down the Central Texas Wine Trail. Well, you don't actually hike it, you're supposed to drive, though frankly it would be a lot more convenient if all the vineyards were within a mile of each other so that you could simply stumble from one to the next. But then I suppose there wouldn't be enough room to grow the grapes. Really, how inconvenient.

We started out with a printed map listing the locations of about 25 vineyards within a 100-mile radius of Austin. Emily is an old hand at this - she's been on a Napa Valley wine tour, and is already familiar with many of the Central Texas wineries, and knows that she usually likes Sauvignon Blanc and doesn't care much for Sangiovese. She's fancy that way.

I drink wine out of a box.

We started with Driftwood Estates Vineyard, which is a beautiful place just south of Dripping Springs (the locals call it "Dripping" or even "Drippin'"), where Robbie and Emily favored the sweet plum red and I cottoned to the Lone Star Cabernet.

Have you ever done a wine tasting? See, I never had really. My stepfather and grandmother, sisters and I did visit a vineyard in central Alabama once, where they made wine from muscadyne grapes. The facility was spotless and beautiful, and the vineyards spread out lush and green before us. As far as I remember, they didn't charge anything for the tastings or the tour; but, seduced by the heady beauty of our surroundings, we probably bought more than a dozen bottles among us. We brought it back to my grandparents' suburban Birmingham home. It was just awful. We practically had to pinch our noses shut while we were drinking it.

These central Texas wineries have their act much more together. You belly up to a shiny blond wood bar, or sit at a high table in a pale stone room, dusty with newness. You can also relax outside on sloping lawns overlooking the vineyards in the valley below, or on a wooden deck surrounded by oak trees; and - unlike the place in Alabama - you are far from alone; wine tourism is popular, and though you're out in the middle of nowhere, the place is thronged. Visit two or more wineries on the trail, and you'll spot some of the same customers again and again.

You get about six tastings for 5 or 6 bucks - the equivalent of a glass of wine, more or less. You and your companions compare notes and discuss the nose, overtones, and aftertaste of each sample as if you were an elegant bunch who had never seen a box of Franzia in your lives. Then you order a glass and/or buy a bottle of the one that you particularly liked, relax and enjoy the atmosphere, and eventually - this is a highly leisurely pursuit - you head off to the next winery. There are dozens and dozens of them within an hour's drive. We managed to visit two.

After Driftwood we headed to Woodrose Winery outside Stonewall, close to the LBJ Ranch. Driftwood with its hilly vistas had a Tuscan feel, but Woodrose has a deck nestled in the woods behind it, with an acoustic guitarist/singer (most singers are acoustic as a general rule) providing a little ambience. Woodrose has fixed tasting menus laid out in a particular order, because "if you start with the port, nothing else is going to taste good," the woman explained to us. "Your taste buds will be fried."

This is good to know.

But don't be deceived by the inflexibility of the menu. Our waitress - probably an owner, I'm guessing - overheard Robbie expressing curiosity about one of the reds, and slipped a sample of it in for him before the port (which - this is extremely important - comes with chocolate). In fact she very good-humoredly gave all of us a couple of extra samples. My last tasting was a Merlot and she poured a sample for me twice, simply shrugging at me and smiling when I told her she'd already given me my last one. "Damn, she's nice," we agreed as she left.

My pick from Woodrose was the Wicked Red, so I ordered a glass to enjoy on the wooded deck and bought a bottle to take home, too. It's sitting on my kitchen counter. How it feels about the box of Merlot lurking six feet away is nobody's business but its own.

My Very First Time

Parents and coworkers, just move along. Nothing to see here.

Have you ever been to a porn shop? This is probably a silly question. Who hasn't? Aside from me, of course. I've reached the age of nearly 38 and never so much as darkened the door of such an establishment; which is odd, you know, because on the whole, I'm not particularly maiden-auntish.

But after Bryan's happy hour last night, over strawberry margaritas and a chile relleno at Baby A's, Robbie said, "Hey. Want to go to the Adult Video Megaplexxx?"

I shrugged. "What the hell," I said.

In college, I had a housemate who worked for Pleasureland Video for a while, just down the street from our co-op. He worked at the counter, but one of his job duties was general tidying up, including the viewing rooms. He quit after about a week and a half, and that's about all I really know about porn shops. So this one was rather surprising.

The customers didn't look right at all. I've always assumed these places were frequented by furtive, mustachioed men in trenchcoats and dark glasses. But the clientele - minus one or two guys you'd immediately peg as major-league pervs - looked so normal. There were several couples, both gay and straight. There was your obligatory Friday-night bachelorette party. Overall, there were a lot of healthy, cheerful, regular-looking folks, most of them college-age or slightly older, almost none of them waggling their eyebrows or wheezing lasciviously.

The clerk carded us at the door, and laughed when she saw my ID. "You're beautiful," she said.

Nothing I saw in there was really all that much of a surprise, except I didn't know they made dildos quite that big. (Welcome to all my new Google visitors, by the way!) And oh my God. The things people will put in their butts! I was shocked.

The visit was both educational and fun, and probably good for about a month of working from home. But since none of my coworkers have read this post, nobody will understand why.