Do I need a vintage wine carrier? One that is secured with a dusky brass latch, that opens to reveal a space just large enough to nestle two bottles? No. I do not. But did I buy it because it's infinitely more charming than toting wine to a friend's in a sack or grasped firmly around the neck? Yes, that, and because what would feel better than the smooth ridges of the rattan on the backs of my fingers as I swing it in rhythm with my stride? Nothing that I could think of at the time. As I waffled (not too long, don't worry) it did occur to me that I might give it as a hostess gift. And I might. But that is what I said when I succumbed to the vintage glass pitcher with the silver top that has the built-in cylinder for ice. The same vintage glass pitcher that looks so lovely filled with lemonade garnished with fruit that lives in my cabinet still. Perhaps they will be friends, the wine carrier and the pitcher. Long, long time friends.
If you haven't been to Underdog Wine in Crestwood, do stop in. It's terrific.
Labels: Musings from the Dream House