Camp Parched

We lived for a time in the lovely seaside town of Carlsbad.  It's a beautiful place--except, of course, during the actual summer, when it's fogged-in and cold.  But they don't tell you that, in the brochures.  To the rest of the world, it's sunny and bucolic all the time in North San Diego County.

Bucolic is right.  For this girl, coming as she did from the food-wine-and-high-tech culture of the Bay Area, Carlsbad was like stepping into an episode of the Andy Griffith Show.  It was a wonderful place for my kid -- a mile from the beach, walk to the neighborhood school, friends all around, season pass to Legoland.  For me, it was tantamount to purgatory.  What, no Peet's?  A 25-minute drive to Whole Foods?  The electrican (who was 60 years old and hailed from Queens, BTW) who decided to take the day off because the surf was kickin' it?  Good God, where am I and what have I done?

But then I met Jooles.  Jooles and her husband Tony lived around the corner.  Their child is the same age as mine.  I met her at that neighborhood school one day, when she made a smart-ass comment about something the PTA was doing.  "I like this chick," I thought. 

And that's when I was invited to join Camp Parched.  See, Jooles is the creator and head counselor of the Camp, which is kind of like a party club for grown-ups.  We all have titles.  (I think I'm some version of the social director and possible handsome-man-wrangler.  The "chief sommelier" title was already taken.)  The only stated function of Camp Parched is to consume cocktails and have a good time.

Once or twice a week, down there in Carlsbad, my phone would ring.  "Are you parched?" asked the voice at the other end.  "Yes, I'm dreadfully, dreadfully parched," I would reply.  I'd hang up, gather my assorted libations, find the child, and head down the street for another meeting.

The meetings are not confined to headquarters, BTW.  We've had a number of them up at Mammoth, where we stay in a WPA-era cabin in the woods that's been in Tony's family for years. We pack the place with people and dogs:  I think our record is 15 humans and 7 canines.  There's one indoor bathroom, BTW, and an outhouse (the dogs care about neither of those things -- they prefer swimming in the cold creek out back).   We hold Camp Parched meetings outside, where we sip "Wild Bloodies" --outdoor Bloody Mary's-- on those days when we're not hoisting brews at the bottom of the slopes.  Back on the coast, we've had a few meetings on chilly nights on the beach, where we toast marshmallows over a raging bonfire and sip from hidden flasks, lest the Beach Patrol want in on the party.  We've had a few emergency meetings as well, generally gathered around a table, to discuss an illness or a divorce, or even a death.  Where we raise a glass, and a wish, for those who might just need a friendly voice or a warm thought to get them through the evening.

Jooles and I had an informal meeting this week, when she came to visit me in my home far away from headquarters, in the hinterlands of Los Angeles.  Although we didn't consume any "wild" beverages on the streets of Hancock Park, we did enjoy a big bowl of pesto-laden homemade pasta, and a lovely fresh peach cobbler for dessert.  Jooles is partial to wine with Spanish origins, so she brought a bottle of Calina 2006 Reserva Carménere, which is made in Chile by a winery that is actually owned by Kendall-Jackson.  Carménere is a French grape that was "rediscovered" by the Chileans, who have now claimed it as their own.  Velvety and fruity, robust and tannic, it holds up well to things like garlicky pesto and quips about the PTA.  For a little something extra, I hauled out a bottle of 2006 Bitch Australian Grenache.  For a description, please buy some and read the back label.  Actually, the label is so eloquent, we're thinking of making it the Official Red Wine of Camp Parched.  The wine is delicious, BTW.

So, I grew to love Carlsbad, after a fashion, but mostly I grew to love Jooles, who proved to me that friends are everywhere, even when you think you're in purgatory.  You just have to be brave enough -- and sometimes, perhaps, just tipsy enough --to let them in.

Jooles' latest endeavor, BTW, is ukele lessons.  She and Tony are heading to Mammoth in a few weeks, where she assured me she will sit in the woods, sip a Wild Bloody, and play a few tunes for all the folks, like me, who are missing the midsummer meeting of Camp Parched.

Comments

[marissa]

I love bitch! isn't that also the same winemaker as pillar box red - another favorite everyday wine.

sounds like a lovely weekend. hope you enjoyed it.