Not exact matches
So tonight, I thought it would be
nice to have a
red wine mushroom sauce to spoon
over our grilled filet mignon and even
over the Parmesan risotto I was preparing for dinner.
Tables of elderly black matrons in their Sunday finest buzz with neighborhood gossip, while just a few feet away union reps pass the inexpensive
red wine to their wives, and elsewhere unreserved tables of strangers make
nice with college students, entrepreneurs, government workers — white, black, and Hispanic — all bonding
over their common hopes for the city.
Suse has been incredibly kind to me
over the last few months, plying me with
red wine while we sit chatting in front of her open fireplace, so I wanted to do something
nice for her.
I would head
over to Whole Foods and pick up some really
nice cheese that I have never had, plus some grapes and a bottle of some excellent dry
red wine.