Blame It On the Martinelli's
Sadly, alcohol could not be blamed for my talkativeness at Thanksgiving dinner. Thanks to my teetotal-ling family origins, the staple beverage at every family gathering is Martinelli’s Sparkling Apple Cider. When we were kids, Mom would fancy it up by serving it “on the rocks” in large wine glasses.
This year, oddly enough, ol’ Martinelli’s loosened me up to where I started sharing the story about how 5-yo James reprimanded me for an involuntary cuss word that slipped my lips when we witnessed a huge car fire near our home.
The pleading look in my sister’s eyes got me all bogged down in the story and the punch line ["Mommy, we don't say that word"] was absolutely Dead on Arrival. Dad was shaking his head. Mom was smiling, politely. All bad signs. It suddenly occurred to me that I had committed the ultimate comedic gaffe: funny story (to me, at least), wrong audience. I stammered, I stumbled, I fiddled with my mashed potatoes.
That’s when BIL leaned over and saved my bacon by saying, “That must be the Martinelli’s talking.”
Uproarious laughter all around.
Maybe for Christmas dinner I’ll bust out some real wine, see what happens. Any ideas for a wine that pairs well (thank you, Food Network) with ham?