HERSTORY: THE BACKSTORY OF ARCHER ROOSE | CHAPTER VI

HERSTORY: THE BACKSTORY OF ARCHER ROOSE | CHAPTER VI

Tags: Archer Roose , Backstory , Herstory , Story

Malbec & Old Mendoza

Some people wait years for the wealth and favorable weather they think they need in order to see the world. But truth be told, the only thing required to travel well and far, is faith in the word “yes.”

Archer Roose was one of those people. One who welcomed adventure and “yes” with open arms and a kiss on both cheeks. All because she never questioned where the winds of change or the tides of chance decided to carry her.

And so, here now, in Argentina, she glanced around the picnic table, committing the moment — and her gracious new friends — to memory. To her left, the demure yet discerning Evita. A longtime garagista, it was she who led Archer to this beautiful, lantern-lit dinner party. Their meeting over the village bridge had been a moment handpicked by fate itself. With loving persistence, Evita offered more and more Malbec wine, a flavorful ruby potion that Evita had concocted after a decade of refinement.

The meal they savored was prepared by Gabriel, Evita’s friend and a culinary magician when it came to milanesa and empanadas. For that evening’s feast, Gabriel flambéd a cosmically proportioned cephalopod caught from the outer edge of Bermuda’s famous three-sided polygon. Gabriel finished off the dish by dusting it with crumbs leftover from a bag of his favorite ranch-spiced tortilla shards.

Gabriel’s loquacious daughter, Camila, was just the storyteller the evening called for. Enormous enamel serving platters made multiple journeys around the table as Camila’s tales of old Mendoza unfolded. She began, “long ago, a mysterious woman passed through these parts. She was called ‘Corazón de Vino,’ for it was wine that sustained her and wine that she loved. They say thoughts of secret, divine spirits kept her awake at night.”

Camila continued, “the woman was forced to leave Mendoza when she couldn’t find a wine that spoke to her soul. Before she disappeared into the mountains, she vowed that she would someday return to finish the story she started.”

The table fell silent after the conclusion of Camila’s story. It was Archer who spoke first. Holding her glass of Malbec in the air, she said, “looks like I won’t be leaving empty-handed this time around.”

Malbec & Old Mendoza

Some people wait years for the wealth and favorable weather they think they need in order to see the world. But truth be told, the only thing required to travel well and far, is faith in the word “yes.”

Archer Roose was one of those people. One who welcomed adventure and “yes” with open arms and a kiss on both cheeks. All because she never questioned where the winds of change or the tides of chance decided to carry her.

And so, here now, in Argentina, she glanced around the picnic table, committing the moment — and her gracious new friends — to memory. To her left, the demure yet discerning Evita. A longtime garagista, it was she who led Archer to this beautiful, lantern-lit dinner party. Their meeting over the village bridge had been a moment handpicked by fate itself. With loving persistence, Evita offered more and more Malbec wine, a flavorful ruby potion that Evita had concocted after a decade of refinement.

The meal they savored was prepared by Gabriel, Evita’s friend and a culinary magician when it came to milanesa and empanadas. For that evening’s feast, Gabriel flambéd a cosmically proportioned cephalopod caught from the outer edge of Bermuda’s famous three-sided polygon. Gabriel finished off the dish by dusting it with crumbs leftover from a bag of his favorite ranch-spiced tortilla shards.

Gabriel’s loquacious daughter, Camila, was just the storyteller the evening called for. Enormous enamel serving platters made multiple journeys around the table as Camila’s tales of old Mendoza unfolded. She began, “long ago, a mysterious woman passed through these parts. She was called ‘Corazón de Vino,’ for it was wine that sustained her and wine that she loved. They say thoughts of secret, divine spirits kept her awake at night.”

Camila continued, “the woman was forced to leave Mendoza when she couldn’t find a wine that spoke to her soul. Before she disappeared into the mountains, she vowed that she would someday return to finish the story she started.”

The table fell silent after the conclusion of Camila’s story. It was Archer who spoke first. Holding her glass of Malbec in the air, she said, “looks like I won’t be leaving empty-handed this time around.”


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