Everyone wants a piece of this hunk. Just the kind of complex charmer you’d expect to hail from Lewis and Clark Country.
Dark, debonair, down-to-earth.
And ever so helpful.
“Let me fire up the grill while you toss the figs, gorgonzola and arugula,” he asserts with a perfectly balanced aroma of leather spice and smokey oak.
On the way to the kitchen, you accidentally (or on purpose) run your tongue across his silky tannins, sending your palate into uncorked ecstasy.
Mr. Helpful takes it all in stride, continuing to baste the steak flanks and herbed lamb kabobs with balsamic care.
You return minutes later with decadent chocolate cake and an unexpected proclamation.
“Who says we can’t eat dessert first?”
Always up for adventure, he spatulas cake into your hands and whispers, “Tonight, we will play boldly under the stars.”