Autumn Boozy Goodness: Blooooood!

Okay, here’s my story. Granted, it’s been filtered through about 3/4 of a bottle of wine (happy Friday!), but still… Earlier this week I went on a journey, hoping to familiarize myself with that mystical land east of 82nd on Sandy Blvd, better known as Parkrose. For the most part, the trip was uneventful. I went too far east, but found an amazing Philly cheese steak joint tucked in a warren of apartment complexes. After a wonderful sandwich I headed back towards Portland. On the way, I passed a deli called Old Country Sausage. Something compelled me to stop and take a gander.

Upon entering the building I was confronted with an ominous sign which read, “Old Country Sausage Parking in Rear.” A chill went down my spine. I stepped into the deli and the smell of floral German deodorant, cured meat, and pickled herring nearly knocked me over. To my left hulked a deli case with an array of esoteric sausages and meats. I gazed with wonder at the deep red tongue and blood sausage. It looked like a humongous Twinkie made of blood, save for the fact that the creamy filling had been replaced with a whole tongue. Equally as fascinating was the head cheese—a mosaic of parts from a rendered pigs head that had the strange beauty of a stained glass window.

I felt as if I were under some spell. I wandered around the store, unsure of what I was searching for, perusing the German magazines, bizarre cakes, and candies. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I spotted the Dracula’s Blood wine. Next thing I knew, I was walking to my car, the bottle swaddled in a brown paper bag under my arm. I didn’t remember purchasing it.

In the car, I sat awhile and looked at the bottle. The label had a rendition of Vlad the Impaler’s castle, with “Dracula’s Blood” printed in drippy bright red blood script. The wine was supposedly created in the Carpathian Alps. Then I saw the price tag. Had I really paid $12.99 for this bottle of wine? I chided myself for my poor choice and drove back to the Mercury office, where I placed the bottle on my desk as a sort of gag.

Over the last week, the bottle has called to me. I have found myself, fingers poised over the keyboard, staring at the thing. Today, I finally decided to open it up. I must say (the bottle is now drained) that the wine itself is nothing to write home about. It has a strong iron-y (not irony) flavor, with a single deep note, like wet river rocks. As I poured the first glass, I thought to myself “What if this bottle of wine actually contained some portion of Dracula’s blood and I was suddenly transformed into one of the undead.” Ha ha. Really, there’s nothing remarkable about it at all.

So here I am on my Friday afternoon with the sun (which is far too bright) slowly going down. Odd, I feel so ready for the night. Yes. The cold embrace of the night. I feel odd, actually. Suddenly, I feel a strange craving for that blood and tongue sausage. Nah, I’m just tipsy. Besides I haven’t eaten anything all day. My god, the hungery… I want… I want… bloooood!!!

Wah ha hahha hhahha hah haa haaaaaa…