We have a couple of friends staying with us. We have known them for seven years; they were Americans living in England. They returned to the US a year or so before I moved out here. I took Friday off work, so that I could have more time with them. We drove up into Napa Valley and had a delightful day in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I was driving and for various medical reasons none of my three passengers could drink; so we consumed iced tea, water, Arnold Palmers, and Orange Frappes. Not a taste of Bacchus touched our lips.
When we got home I was relating the delights of our day to my mother-in-law. I described breakfast, lunch, and ice cream at Anette’s in Napa. She responded by saying “You can’t go to Napa and not eat ice-cream can you?”. It was at that point that I felt a chill run down my back, as I realised that to most people a trip to Napa Valley is synonymous with wine. My Dad would be outraged at the thought of going to somewhere that has wine cellars like Blackpool has tourist tack and touching not a drop.
In my defense, Anette’s ice cream could fairly claim to be among the world’s finest. I have never tried their homemade chocolates, as I always head for the ice-cream counter, but my wife looked to be a state of bliss as she ate her dark chocolate peanut butter cup.
