Charleston has a Winery— Kinda
Charleston Day Four
I found out today Muscadine grapes are native to the American south. This contradicted my knowledge that there are no wine grapes native to North America. Zinfandel was thought to be one, but that was disproven. It's the same grape as the Italian Primativo. Once that went out the window, all we had was Muscadine. We also have concord grapes, but those make awful wine— not much different from Muscadine. Today's foremost stop is the local winery. They use mainly if not all Muscadine grapes. They are very sweet. This winery might as well be a candy factory. I feel like I have a Golden Ticket and no sweet tooth.
The only stop before the winery was The Angel Oak. It was a massive oak tree. This was a must-stop on the way to the winery. It got rough pretty quickly. A bachelorette party was there and wanted lots of photos. There was an older man in socks and sandals— not me, taking a hundred photos. He was blocking the center of the tree. The bachelorette party's hired driver asked him if they could sneak in for a group photo. This man lost his mind. Imagine me anywhere they are out of a beer listed on their tap menu. On a permanent, laminated menu, I get it. Things happen over time. I'm talking about printed-out tap lists. You knew this was out when you printed this— take inventory! Anyway, he started screaming. I thought it was a reasonable request— he did not.
The mission had become clear. We had to get to this winery before this bachelorette party took the best tables— this was war. It took upwards of 8 minutes to organize all the snacks. I mentioned the snacks might be a casualty. My wife looked at me like I might be a casualty. We got to a host and took the last table available. Then the bachelorette party drunkenly walked to the private room booked in advance— we won.
The wine was all sweet— so sweet. I might have alluded to that earlier. My wife liked one of them— I think. The ambiance consisted of chickens running around freely which added an air of danger. It was all a game until my girl Ethel entered the scene. Only one of the chickens had a name, and that was Ethel. The others were shy and avoided us-- Ethel, we couldn't get rid of. She earned the first name. I don't know how she got Ethel, but I needed a way to ask her politely— but firmly, to leave.
We decided to walk the grounds to get away from Ethel. They said a wine-slushie is excellent for the walk. Yeah-- more sugar, please. Before heading out, we tried to use their outdoor bathrooms. They weren't great. The grounds were just as majestic as other wineries' vineyards. They might only have Muscadine, but grapes sure do look astounding in their rows of vines.
We made it home and separated into teams of "I need a nap" and "There's a bar down the street." Team Bar went to Pour Taproom. There is one of these in St. Pete-- we're familiar. They give you a wristband with a chip in it. You touch that chip to the taps on the wall. Then you self-serve as much or as little as you want. It's primarily beers, but they have ciders and a few wines. They charge by ounce, so you can taste everything or get full-size glasses. I decided to get every IPA they had to offer. This included the coveted Dogfishhead 120 min IPA. This stuff was heavy. One of my favorite parts of Pour Taproom is all the different glassware from which you can choose. As a princess, I love selecting the proper glass for the beer. I also love, due to my aforementioned title, to use fresh glasses. My kitchen counter evidences this on Monday mornings. I tried a few of their different style glasses but mainly stayed with the Wicked Weed Tulip glass. Wicked Weed is one of my favorite breweries, and this glass is just incredible. This Pour Taproom location had a different feature than one in St. Pete. They have an upstairs, outdoor balcony-- with taps! While out here, the clepto of our group tried to throw a glass in her purse. I politely decline this criminal episode and ask the person behind the counter how much to walk away with the Wicked Weed tulip? $8-- get your purse. Just kidding, we paid.
We reconvened with our post-nap teammates for an outdoor dinner. We enjoyed a lovely meal and were in a hurry to leave and jump on a boat!
On the boat, we get mocked by the first mate for not bringing a cooler. He doesn't know with whom he's dealing. I swung my bookbag around to show it had 20 beers in it. You see, we knew they had a cooler— boats always do. We threw the beer and a couple of ice packs in the bookbag in anticipation. We made the transfer and got comfy. We cruised around drinking beers. The captain went through his standard tour and pointed out sights. After a while, he tapered off and just started talking to us. Then we explained how we usually have fun on boats— looking at rich people's houses. The goal is to judge whether or not their outdoor area has enough ceiling fans. It helps if you're cynical about not having enough ceiling fans in your own outdoor area. We also look for dogs— obviously.
When we returned to the Air B&B, we finished the rest of the beers and attempted to play some Jackbox games. We had some gourmet cupcakes to stack with the beers. Then there was a knock at the door— it was Ethel.
Until I get dragged somewhere else,
A Lazy Husband.
