When I was growing up, every family basically lived near each other. My Grandmother moved to Detroit, after my Grandfather passed away and her three children all lived within a block of each other, and even when my Grandfather was alive, they lived the next city over, yes, technically it was in another country, but back then Ontario kind of felt like the unofficial fifty-first state of the United States of America. When my Grandparents got married, they lived in one Armenian ‘ghetto” to another and even in Detroit, our neighborhood was kind of an Armenian “ghetto” as well, just more of the American “Melting Pot” of immigrants that came here to become Americans. I think the old people were embarrassed by their accents, but they all tried to be Americans and speak English. They may have been impoverished from circumstances beyond their control, but they all strove to correct that. They wanted the American Dream. For the most part, it was my generation that started moving away from home, most of my family, including cousins never left the state, let alone Southeast Michigan where only Windsor was south of the border.
Two of our children are in another state, another time zone and sometimes it feels like another world. I was never a telephone talker, so to this day, it is hard for me. In person, it is a different story. Our son came in town to attend the funeral of one of his friends that he grew up with, and he was going to share a hotel room with one of his cousins that was also flying in for the funeral on the red eye, and we didn’t see the cousin, but we did see our son. We picked him up at his hotel and we took him to Mint 29, where we had taken his sister before, and so that he could see how dramatically the city had changed since even the last time he was here. It is quite unique for Dearborn, which in the old days was all charming steak and seafood restaurants, and has now morphed into mostly Halal influenced eateries, and Mint 29 is a fusion style bistro that is over-run with Grizzly-Adams bearded millennials and even though our son is too old to be a millennial, he looked the part. Only my Bride and I looked out of place, in this former bank building, which was Dearborn Music for as long as I can remember. We had salmon, tuna, scallops, and beef tenderloin tips. The conversation was the important part, but we did eat very well. When I think back when the kids were younger, Kiernan’s Steak House with their Beef Wellington was kiddy-corner from where we were, and a couple doors down was The Topper with the greatest Braised Short Ribs around and both places made their reputation during the Three Martini lunch era and wonderful long dinners.
Our son was being a teetotaler at the moment, but I knew that he was just saving himself for the evening and the next day, so he was having a cola. My Bride and I were feeling festive on the occasion and we had a bottle of Joseph Verdier Tresors de Loire Cremant de Loire Brut Rosé NV. Cremant de Loire is the appellation for the region of sparkling wines encompassing Anjou, Saumur and Touraine. The heart of the Loire Valley. In 1975 the appellations were issued for Cremant de Loire and Cremant de Bourgogne and followed by Cremant d’Alsace. While one thinks of Sauvignon Blanc for the Loire, it is a noticeable omission for the Cremant wines, the star of the sparkling wine is Chenin Blanc and then they also rely on Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Cabernet Franc, Pineau d’Aunis, Grolleau Noir and even Cabernet Sauvignon. Typically, the Cremant de Loire spend about nine months in the bottle during the second fermentation, and the Rosé style only accounts for about ten percent of the production. Even though this wine is labeled Brut, I have always heard that the French make the wine a tad sweet, because they believe the American like to see the word Brut, but like a touch of sweet; now maybe it is that I am mellowing, but I do find the floral nose, and a touch of honey in the finish works extremely well for me, and I think my Bride enjoyed equally as well. One night with our son was definitely better than no night with our son.