Happy Cinco de Mayo, Louise

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Whoo-hoo: May 5, pretty much meaningless to Mexicans as their independence is in September but a fun made-up American holiday nonetheless. Aah, thanks Corona!

Good grief.

I met an extraordinary woman yesterday named Louise- w ran into each other outside the CVS as she came up to admire Percy and Oliver. Beautiful woman, Chanel bag, truly lovely in every way. She was born and raised in D.C. (you definitely don’t meet many nonagenarians in this category), and in 1947, she and her husband returned here (he was a dentistry resident at Walter Reed after the war). They moved to 48th between Quebec and Rodman, the neighborhood of Spring Valley, where we live now, and bought a large home on a big parcel of land for $37,500 and $50.00 down. Dios mio, I wish that’s what we’d paid. Anyway, they raised two daughters here, one of whom attended the same school as does Jack. One daughter was good friends with Tricia Nixon, both attended great colleges. One died at 52 and I didn’t ask but believe Louise to be widowed.

As we parted ways, she said I’d made her day, and I said, No, ma’am, you’ve made mine. Take care. And she said, “I’m 93 years old if you can believe it.” What a woman. I sure hope to run into her again!

Red wine that makes your lips grip your teeth

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Sometimes I am really in the mood for a hyper-tannic, earthy red that has so much wood on it that the inside of your cheeks and lips grab hold of your teeth like those sucker fish do to the walls of the aquariums they clean. Such was the case last night, and I had just the wine: the True Grit petite sirah from Parducci. I hadn’t tried this particular wine before but am familiar with the vineyard (they are committed to sustainable agriculture) and expect a refined coarseness from a petite sirah done well. I was not disappointed, and the Parducci paired really well with the chili and cheddar biscuits.