I have a few fellow snow-flakes in this world. We send messages back and forth with the promise of “heavy at times” precipitation being perhaps the most thrilling phrase in meteorology. My buddy Boodles texted me inquiring rightfully, what is with the milk and bread BS? “What should an experienced palate stock their pantry with in the imminence of a blizzard?” I put the question out there in the gleefully sinking barometric spectrum of the Internet and began scribbling columns of definitive answers on my notepad.
The number one response was “wine”. Just a few hours later I am up to:
- Cases of Wine
- Countless Bourbons, a few Vodkas and a Scotch
- Beer (Not sure if this means singles, cases or kegs. No matter.)
- Lots and lots of Dog Food
Now, I understand this is a direct reflection of the company I keep. Then things get personal: bacon, birdseed, potted meat, there was one thoughtful bottled water and batteries entry and there will apparently be a lot of chili going on. Marshmallows? “Honey, I’m headed to town for marshmallows. There’s a storm coming.” To each his own.
At the top of my list, wine and hay are neck and neck. (I wouldn’t mind a few oysters.) Now, there’s enough wine under this roof to provide handsomely for a spirited party. The need to go out into the world and procure storm provisions is about something else. I believe at heart we are children with our noses pressed against frosty windows hoping for delays, cancellations, puppies and Santa. A good storm focuses our attention on something real but magical. It hides the disarray. We have to earn crystalline precious coddling so we pay penance like faithful pilgrims and stand before the altar of bread and milk, or Bordeaux and storm-worthy bourbon. The horses have hay, the dogs enough food for six weeks; wine to share generously should a friend or ten journey down our lane. We are thus worthy to receive this suspension of the day to day, a holiday when the calendar indicated nothing special. Stay safe and warm, friends.