Pinot Noir and . . . Drumsticks

No, I don't mean a chicken drumstick, I mean an ice cream drumstick (vanilla, no nuts, the way Jackson likes it). I started munching down on it and then realized there was a little bit of pinot noir left in my glass, so took a swallow and . . . well, that taste sensation will never make it into Wine Spectator magazine.

However, a nice chunk of semi-sweet or less dark DARK chocolate and a glass of red wine is something that everyone who likes red wine should try at least once. It's been popular among wine aficianados for a while, but I am here to agree that it is a lovely, sophisticated ending to a meal. Just as a shot of chilled vodka changes the taste composition of caviar, chocolate and red wine create a wonderfully satisfying savory/sweet flavor.

So here I am on this Friday night standing at the kitchen counter typing on my laptop because I put a kink in my neck from overuse of the computer yesterday. I'm waiting for the time when I can take another muscle relaxer and watching Oliver Stone's "JFK." (Yes, I know it's not historically accurate, but I still find it very entertaining and well done, and Gary Oldman perfectly channels Lee Harvey Oswald.) And, to get my mind off my throbbing neck and shoulder muscles, I am thinking back to the best steak I've ever eaten combined with the first time I ever had a glass of syrah.

Tenderloin in all of its incarnations is probably the main reason why I, a tender-hearted animal lover, can never be truly committed to being a vegetarian. It's just too damned good.

Once upon a time, about 10 years ago, I found myself in England visiting friends. They took me to the County of Kent, near Leeds Castle, to a pub that was old enough to remember the days of Henry VIII. On the outside, it looked like a cheerful beer garden with Tudor architecture and umbrella topped tables in the yard, but inside it was a pub straight out of the world of Harry Potter. Low, dark wooden beams, uneven stone floor showing wear from centuries of footsteps, bookshelves on the walls, a large fireplace with a roaring fire -- the ambience alone, along with a pint, would have been wonderful, but there was a meal to be consumed.

Honestly, I don't remember anything I ate that night except for the main course: a thick slice of rare tenderloin, reverently atop an equally thick slice of homemade paté nestled on a slice of French bread. This was, without a doubt, an orgasmic meal, and I savored every bite.

The tenderloin was accompanied by a bottle of syrah, and the full-bodied spicy red wine was a perfect accompaniment to the steak and paté combination. Since then, I have enjoyed syrah and shiraz (location of the grapes -- the Rhone for syrah and Australia for shiraz -- is the only difference between the two) on many occasions. I think it's well suited to a winter's evening along with a hearty meal, and I will always associate it with a memorable night in Kent.