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Have I ever mentioned that I like wine?  Probably. 

Alright, here’s one: Have I ever mentioned how MUCH I like wine?  Darn it, I guess I need some new material.

Okay, have I told you lately that I love you AND the wine of Paso Robles?  Well, grab a glass (please, drinking alone is no fun) and read on.

Have you ever visited a place where you instantly felt welcome, comfortable and excited all at the same time? Paso Robles, CA is one of those places, and given my druthers, I’d be writing this from there.  Alas, I pen this piece not from the glorious vineyard-kingdoms of Halter Ranch, Denner Vineyards or Silver Horse; nor from a fine food sampling of Artisan’s foie gras or Chef Ryan Swarthout's braised pork belly. Nope. The bittersweet reality is that I’m at home, hoping that my pining will inspire you to enjoy an escape to the Central Coast of California.

I came up with this dish on the last night of a very long charter (2 weeks) in the Virgin Islands. Most of the crew’s brains had already sailed home, so we were running on fumes. We were running low on supplies and all I had left were a few chicken breasts, some canned crab and jumbo prawns.

Alright, I need a little help solving this one: When (and WHY) did the most popular cooking channel in America decide that its target audience consists of people over the age of 50 (which I’m not)? There I was, curled up with my lap-top, watching a little food TV, when my eyes were suddenly assaulted by geriatric advertisements: There were AARP-endorsed beverages that delay muscle loss so you don’t get “soft”; pills to enhance memory retention so we don’t forget where we live; and ergonomic beds so your feet don’t swell during the night (i.e. elimination of the frightening “cankle” issue). “Seriously?” I thought, “Who are these marketing people and why don’t they want me to be hungry?”

I’ve never been a great fan of St. Valentine’s Day or the number 14 (which in Mandarin means “imminent death” if pronounced incorrectly).  Chocolate never did much for me unless it encased a strawberry rimming a glass of sparkling wine. Red roses, heart-shaped cards, and expensive dinners were never really my thing. As for boys, well, that’s another matter entirely!