Eva's Wine Cellar

How about an omelet? And what kind of goodies would you like in it?

Oh dear did I forget that? My favourite

Why thank you madam, mushroom, spring onion, tomato and have to have ham.... Can't wait!!! Salt and pepper shhh don't tell anyone (please)

We irishers are a sentimental lot, me included.
Not that I know the definition of irisher. It's just that I remember Heeven being irritated that american irish called ourselves irish.

Only Native Americans can truly claim to be of American descent.

That sounds excellent, FS! I think I'll have the same, except I'll have the cook add Swiss cheese.

Anyone else feel like Mimosas this morning?

Found this while mooching around in your sellar:



Let's surprise the guests.

I'll just have some chilled Campogrande Orvieto while I wait for my steamed mussels and good dunking bread..

I remember the name Virginia Dare, but not why.

heres the stamp in Virginia's memory. Look at her birthdate

Ahhhh, thankee.

Funny, I don't remember Jacques ordering that. Can you tell me a little about it? I assume it's a red...?

< Having somehow fumbled his way to the bottom step, Aswas feels around for the door handle and quietly tries it to see if it is locked. The door opens slowly, stretching the large cobweb across the opening. A resident black widow scuttles off inside a small cavity in the frame. A single leg reaches out to touch a connecting thread.
Feeling around for the light switch, Aswas notices that the wall is sticky. A sour smell hits him, letting his nose know that some wine has obviously spilt and has gone off. Vin aigre, as the Frenchists call it.

He flicks the switch and a small ancient bulb flickers into life, barely illuminating the first row of bottles.
A smashed bottle lay at the base of the wall, a large red stain in the shape of a starburst, just visible in the gloom. He bends down to read the label.
Latour 1944. Probably worth a few thou before someone chucked it.

Feeling up on top of the door frame he locates the pencil torch he once left there, and is relieved to find that it still works. Crunching his way towards
the back of the room, the torch beam settles on the area where he thinks he left it, and after a few seconds of searching he discovers the bottle in question, now covered in dust.
Finding an old cloth, he carefully dusts the bottle and smiles as the label is revealed. A present once bought for him during his gluttonous phase by a weird but funny pitchfork wielding rodent farmer.
"Now is as good a time as any to open it", he thought.

Climbing back up the stairs, he emerges behind the counter once again, blinking in the daylight snd almost knocking a tray of croissant out of a startled Jacque's hand.> ............














"Anyone fancy a fat bastard?"

My first inclination is to say it's the result of a 1000 years of subjugation and slavery under the cruel fist of the British Empire, but that sounds a bit harsh, doesn't it now? heh.,

There is some truth in your question, but only a little. Karen can tell you, for every sorrow filled song, there are four jigs, three tunes about the pursuit of happiness or love or both and a couple of rousing "Let me tell you about that night in Rothsea-o" um, ballads. (Mostly shouted, rather than sung.)

Here's Rothsea-o for you, in case you've never heard it. It was one of my Mother's and my Nana's favorites.


And there is this: at times, when I get up to sing, I pick out the softest, saddest song I can think of.....so, as I sing, I can see all the thick sotted-brain blatherskills in the booths with a glass in their hands and....

Joe (with their big mouths shut.)Nation

Doesn't that statistic contradict the theory of the 1000 years of subjugation and slavery under the cruel fist of the British Empire?

No, without getting too serious about the whole thing, opposed people everywhere cope in various ways, one of which is acting as happy as they can under the circumstances.
The British have done a proper job of spreading that kind of joy around the globe.
Now, spendius, let's have a song from you or you have to front the whole bar for a round.

Joe(your song can be a round, I'll join in.)Nation

http://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=A0oG7l.lOp5ST24Al.el87UF;_ylc=X1MDOT

drat.

The Irish are hardly the only people with a long history of suffering. Although, come to think of it, that might explain why all Jewish music sounds like it's written in a minor key.

Enough of this. Somebody change the subject, please?

Would someone please go check on Lordy? The last time I saw him he was drinking straight from a dusty old bottle and heading for the back door to the alley.

He's okay, found an old hammock strangely hanging between two support poles of a scaffolding. Sleeping soundly...or at least passed out for now.

Since I'm not supposed to drink, I'd like to just browse some of your finest reds and reminisce about my drunken past. Make sure the bottle stays closed.