At VNO, an inconvenient (and New Age) veritas

Doc’s report:

“In vino veritas,” as the Latin aphorism has it: “In wine, truth.” The booze goes in, the truth comes out. Practical tip: Don’t talk to your wife’s sister when you’re drunk.

That aphorism was affirmed, in ways both hopeful and ridiculous, on a mid-August visit to
VNO Wine Warehouse & New Age Restaurant by Harry, the G-Man and me.

We like to get the bad news out of the way up front. That way, we can enjoy ourselves and get around to distracting ourselves from the world’s problems. Simply put, our bodies are crumbling, and our lives have become a sort of Bataan Death March to McLaren financed by Medicare. There are enough bad reports from every gland, organ and system in our three bodies to send Dr. Deborah Birx scarf shopping.

Harry has found a professional sleep clinic he recommends downtown on Washington. I’ve had two teeth extracted (still one fewer than the parade of ex-wives, but there’s a molar that’s been giving me trouble). Both Harry and the G-man have had enough experience with chiropractors and carpel tunnel syndrome to compare notes.

But enough about us. There is no “I” in team, gentle reader. For that matter, there is an enigmatic absent “I” in VNO. Maybe I’m missing something. Maybe VNO is missing something.

My understanding of New Age cuisine is that it’s “fusion cuisine,” combining foods of different cultures. An example would be a California pizza, where you’d get one ingredient from each of the five continents (e.g., penguin fin, opossum, camel), the four food groups (beet, hog face), and maybe a couple of the planets. Or Gobi Manchurian, where Buddhist and Hindu cuisine come together for my favorite joke: The Dalai Lama walks into a pizza place and says, “Make me one with everything.”

VNO offers such New Age dishes as lobster taco, a 100% plant-based Impossible Burger (as

Impossible Burger at VNO

though getting the lobster in the taco weren’t difficult enough), and the New Age Taco of brisket and pulled pork with jalapeno Jack cheese and pico de gallo.

The conversation leapfrogged the tiresome pandemic to signs of hope. One  is, of course, children, with their immediate innocent interest in the arts and nature.

Harry’s grandson visited from Detroit for a week recently. He participated in Studio 23’s arts program and went fishing on the stone dock. The lad is said to have shown restraint with the candy at St. Laurent Brothers, less so on his smartphone.

Another sign of hope is various recreational activities. The G-man offered that golf is a natural during the pandemic with errant shots necessitating social distancing. Harry wondered if the pandemic will break our sports addiction. I sure hope so.

Given the absurdity of the Tigers game on the big screen in front of us, with Tigers manager Ron Gardenhire being tossed out for a swear word you couldn’t see because of his mask, and Cabrera approaching all sorts of records in front of empty stands -- who’s watching this?

Speaking of things longer than they are wide, the pickle has surprisingly emerged as a symbol of

Some of the wine at VNO

hope’s perdurable appeal during the pandemic. The loyal reader will recall that in our last pre-pandemic visit to the Kawkawlin Country House, we learned that picklebacks are a favorite of the younger crowd, with their adventurous palates.

In our most recent post, Harry shared that he’s making his own garden-grown Fifth Street pickles with the slogan, “We’ll take the Fifth!” Harry has also tried a dill pickle Slurpee, and the G-man has sampled pickled popcorn. Our research has also uncovered the pickle popsicle.

We learn from our mistakes. Things that hurt, teach.

But the taste delights don’t end with the pickle (That’s what she said.). Our competent and charming bartender Sue talked Harry into trying a peanut butter-based whiskey, the Skrewball. I thought Harry had learned his lesson some years back at the Shot n Shell in Essexville after a disastrous encounter with a drink called Grapes of Wrath. But, like your humble narrator to the altar, he touched the stove again. You can read his post for the review, but I wouldn’t advise it.

Perhaps New Age cuisine could combine the peanut butter Skrewball with crème de cacao, for a

Menu at VNO

sort of Georgia-cum-Aztec Reese’s Pieces? Hey, Halloween is only two months away.

In any case, hope seemed to hover above the conversation throughout the afternoon at VNO. Hope is the unfounded belief that things will get better. Another Latin aphorism: “Dum spiro, spero,” meaning “While I breathe, I hope.”

I suppose every time a farmer plants grapes it’s an act of hope that someday the grapes will become wine. A visit to VNO is worth it simply to see the impressive variety of wines there. The evidence of hope.

That night Michelle Obama was going to speak during the virtual Democratic convention. Her husband launched his campaign with a book titled “The Audacity of Hope.” Served two terms.

Or maybe Wood Allen is right: “How wrong Emily Dickinson was! Hope is not 'the thing with feathers.' The thing with feathers has turned out to be my nephew. I must take him to a specialist in Zurich.”

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See the hairy guy's report on VNO: Burgers, beer, a Skrewball on the rocks, quiet, a dash of New Age, a happy Sue - and wine, lots of wine

About this blog ...

We pick a place in or around Bay City, walk in one day (thus avoiding nighttime crowds and potentially loud music), check it out and write about it. It's an excuse to get together for drinks, an excuse to explore the city and an excuse to write.

The hairy guy, a.k.a. Harry, wears glasses and hearing aids that are stylishly color-coordinated with his gray hair, met his wife in a bar, doesn't drink all that much and is moderately friendly. Doc has much less hair, a few more college degrees, a history of drinking a wee bit more and (fair warning) grew up with a pool table in his basement. Harry moved here just because he likes it; Doc grew up here, left and came back.

Want to join us at a bar and write about it? Anything (well, almost anything) goes. You don't have to be a famous author; we can even fix your bad spelling. The only firm rule is that we don't ask for, expect or take any freebies or deals from places we’re writing about. And at least one of us is reasonably able to drive when we leave. If you want to join us (we won't force you to write anything if you don't want to), email barsofbaycity@gmail.com.