Drunken tales of an exciting weekend

As the old adage goes, “Be careful what you wish for as you just might get it.” So here I was complaining but hopeful about the lack of excitement in Manila, when last weekend went by in a definitive blur. I would be lying if I said that I remembered every minute of it, because in between the Vesper martinis, Ribera del Duero wines, surprise bottles of Champagne and the mandatory mint julep, I definitely lost a few brain cells all in the happy battle for what my admired fellow writer Krip Yuson calls “the lush life.”

Think of an exciting spy thriller where the lead wakes up from a hazy dream. A sigh of relief: “I’m in my own room.” You sleepily look around and as your eyes scan the surroundings they stop to pick up clues here and there. Passes to IWFS Wine Crawl. Receipts from Art in the Park. A mixed CD from Opus. A voucher for a free stay in a hotel in Boracay. A piece of popcorn in my purse?

As Sunday progresses, flashes come and go. Like a cheaply made detective TV series, I can somewhat map out the all-too-exciting weekend.

Thursday, February 16

8:52 p.m.

There’s a traffic jam at the end of EDSA as all the cars stop to look at an overheated jeepney. I’m late for dinner. Horribly late. J is grumpy because he is famished. Evil looks shoot my way. “The food better be good or else I’m dead,” I think to myself.

9:15 p.m.

We walk into Opus to figure out it didn’t matter we were late; people were eating at staggered times. Poor chef. Ooh! That caviar on my appetizer looks legit! “Oscetra?”

SThe pica-pica spread to end all spreads

9:30 p.m.

The menu reads “Duck Confit Sisig Risotto with Calamansi Air.” All I can say is, revelation. Don’t judge a dish by its pretentious menu title. That damned thing was amazing. Rich bits of duck confit in a velvety foie gras-studded risotto topped with some kind of chili toyomansi air. It was the Michelin man eating in a beer house. Worthy of stars in technique, execution and conceptualization but it was still distinctly a “sisig-beer bucket-nights-pulutan-moment”. The food equivalent of Lanvin for H&M. “It’s not fine dining, it’s fun dining!” chef Carlo Miguel quips. “I like that!”

10 p.m.

Chocolate-covered strawberries with Pop Rocks that go “kreckle-krackle” in the mouth. Jonathan: “This is nice!” I say, “Yeah! I love Pop Rocks.” Jonathan: “Never had them when I was a kid.” Hmm, one of the perks of having an Americanized childhood: fun, imported candies.

10:10 p.m.

“David … wanna make me a Vesper? For good old times’ sake?”

10:15 p.m.

David Dennis, the dashing mixologist, comes to my rescue like a knight in shining armor amid standard party conversations bearing an icy shaker and a perfectly chilled martini glass. I hold. He pours. I take a sip: the elixir of Merlin. Gin and vodka magic. A little “pffft” of lemon peel. Still just as perfect as the first time I had it.

11:12 p.m.

Another Vesper, please! Oh, wait, my friends are peddling champagne. Tough call. Waste not, want not is what I say. Happy anniversary, Opus! Let’s have two drinks to that.

Friday, February 17

8:35 a.m.

Puffs of love: Cute, adorable chorizo puffs by Masseto at Premium Wine Exchange

Wow! Happy I went for Hendrick’s Gin. No hangover.

9:55 a.m.

Two bananas down and some Malongo coffee. Let’s Zumba the toxins away!

7:30 p.m.

“Girl, come join us for dinner.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I need to rest.”

I might have been still drunk while doing Zumba and hangover central kicked in much later.

8:45 p.m.

I’m staring at a plate of oily unknown mystery-meat Chinese-food takeout. Ew. But I eat it all anyway.

Saturday, February 18

9:15 a.m.

Feeling refreshed and recharged for a busy day! Got some work to do at Atelier, then off to be cultured at Art in the Park and to increase my knowledge of wine. I promise I won’t binge at the wine crawl. It’s about strategizing each sip for maximum wine exposure.

4:35 p.m.

It’s hot and muggy and I’ve got my arms full of great contemporary art. Came in to buy one or two pieces and walked out with 10. I love art markets. They should definitely have this once a month. On second thought, forget it. I’d go broke.

5:05 p.m.

“Hi. I’m registered for the International Wine and Food Society Ladies Branch Wine Crawl,” I say with my most professional-looking face, saying hi amicably to all the familiar, slightly flushed faces in the room. Nana Ozaeta the president is looking extra happy. “You have to catch up!” she tells me.

Lush life: Vesper martini, anyone?

Which should I prioritize? We’ve got a long way to go and I don’t want to waste all my chits and alcohol units.

5:25 p.m.

Who am I kidding? Twenty minutes later, still at the first stop, Premium Wine Exchange, I’m all out of chits. And I’m stalking the waitress carrying the cutest, most delicious, adorable little chorizo puffs.

5:30 p.m.

We’re still there and I’m taken aback by the beauty of this Ribera del Duero Spanish Wine — its 100-percent-Tempranillo grapes went perfectly well with the chorizo puffs. “Miss, can you just bring us a whole tray? We’re using it to compare wine pairings.”

Yeah, right. They were just so yummy.

6:15 p.m.

Jonathan loaded up on the chits, which meant we were loading up on the wine. Sommelier Selections was bustling. Via Mare had some great little crab cakes that paired with the Cour Cheverny from the Loire Valley and tasted like oysters. It was the motion of the ocean in my mouth. Nana calls out to me, “Don’t get to Terry’s Selection too late! He promised us fresh oysters!”

7:05 p.m.

I’m at the Straits Wine Company staring at the label of a bottle of Meursault 2005: “Mischief and Mayhem.” Dum-dum-duuum… Was this an omen of the night to come?

7:35 p.m.

At Terry’s, I’m admittedly thoroughly buzzed. I attacked the oysters, the tortilla de jamon Serrano, Manchego, the little pulguitas … I ran out of chits to get wine. I purchased more. I drank more. In the midst of all the festivities there was one intelligent epiphany: “Spanish wines are really starting to grow on me. I like this Ribera del Duero stuff.”

7:40 p.m.

SMS from Geoffroy Morgan de Rivery: “Guys, don’t drink so much; I bought nice wine for dinner.” Too late, but there’s always room for more.

10:45 p.m.

“Malongotinis!” I was doing Zumba in six-inch heels in the middle of our friend’s living room! Good times!

11:55 p.m.

Blind pig. Ooh, friends from the wine crawl. Last men standing.

Sunday, February 19

1:45 a.m.

An amazing selection of wines

“What! No French fries?!”

1:50 a.m.

“Fine, I’ll have popcorn.”

1:55 a.m.

Having an old-movie moment dancing cheek-to-cheek to speakeasy jazz.

11:05 a.m.

I wake up and though I don’t remember much, turn around to Jonathan and say, “I have no hangover.”

Jonathan: “Yeah, me neither. It must have been good stuff they were serving us.”

“The whole weekend was full of good stuff. But I won’t go back to the Chinese place.”

“Me, neither.”

“Good weekend.”

“Definitely good weekend.”