Last Friday was something of an experiment in controlled chaos, in that my dance card was overbooked and I made a valiant, well-intentioned effort, but you know all about what they pave the roads to Hell with, eh?
Day two of my assistant’s sojourn to Miami Beach (a bachelorette vacation that will most likely end up somewhere in the next Girls Gone Wild compilation), I was schlepping boxes of wine between stores as usual, sharing the Chester Molester van I drive every day with my boss, Mark, trying to get things prepped and ready for Strappo (Il Capo) pouring his wines at our Covington store, all while getting ready to drop in on Turfway Park with Matt for a Ruffino tasting, and get back in time to pick up Strappo and meet a posse at Aoi Japanese Restaurant at Newport on the Levee. I really felt like going all Michael Keaton in Multiplicity, but I haven’t any cloning equipment in my office (just a crude means to electrocute myself).
Task one was getting my transfer done, which I have affectionately referred to on Twitter as “making rounds.” It’s more like making swamp ass during summertime as I drive around Northern Kentucky in the Chester Molester van cooking in my own sauce (piping hot K2 in a sauce ball-aise, can you say, “BRFFF?”) Getting the stuff moved from A to B, with a bit of help from Marky Mark, I finished up some signs for the shelves, entering invoices into the system, and helping to get the table set up at Covington for Strappo’s arrival, before changing clothes and preparing myself for a whirlwind at Turfway Park.
My lovely protégé and SWS/Starz rep Jesse, booked Matt and I in this swanky Ruffino Wine Dinner, which I naively thought we were going to be done around 7:30 (it started at 6 pm). If it went accordingly to plan, we’d pick up my wife on the way back and get Strappo by 8 to make an 8:30 reservation. Needless to say, Captain Bonehead (that would be me) forgot the last time I went to a dinner at Turfway, which is their Chef’s rare opportunity to truly shine. If you haven’t been to a dinner at Turfway Park, you should. The chef there is seriously capable of pulling off things that Thomas Keller or Eric Ripert can do, only less expensively. Of course, cocktails and appetizers from 6 until 7:00, and then the first course of Chef Peter Haubi’s impending gourmet orgy was dropping at 7:30. I cannot schedule myself for shit! By the time the introductions were finished – our sommelier for the night was standing in the doorway, blocking a subtle and indiscreet exit – right until seconds before the servers were bringing our appetizer course. This sucks!
My most humble and profuse apologies to the Turfway Staff for not being able to stay and right a review of any sort, but I am confident the diners were treated to an amazing dinner they would have to run a marathon to balance their caloric intake from for days to come.
We managed to pick up my wife, and retrieved Strappo from the jawls of the late-evening wine leeches that roam the streets of Covington, and proceeded to Aoi, where wine, beer, and sushi galore was consumed by all. By the end of the evening, I had been running full speed for 16 hours, capping off an unusually spirited off-site tasting event schedule that left me – and I have to get retro on you for this one – FUBAR.
Thank you to Strappo for making it back to the neighborhood to show off some of the latest arrivals from Domenico Selections. Thanks to Jesse, Constellation Brands, and Turfway Park for a dinner we couldn’t quite stay for, and to everyone who wined-and-dined us this week!