Finis du vin

I like to fancy myself a team player and a good neighbor. When I got the word that the wine bar down the street was forced to go out of business by a mean spirited shrew of a landlord I knew that something had to be done.

In order to do my duty I was sitting on one of their comfortable bar stools five out of six nights last week. I drank the cabs, the zins, both malbec and shiraz, pinot's and barberas with nary a pause. I pretty much drank what they put in front of me. Friday morning I was hurting. Couldn't destroy any more internal parts and skipped the last day. I was there early the next morning to eat upstairs and the sign and every vestige of their identity had been removed from the exterior walls.

The Gnarly Vine was a really neat place. Just getting the right crowd of regulars. A rare place for my generation to hang without a lot of idiots around. Great sound. Gone. Poof. We wish John and Lura the best of luck and hope that they find another location and even surpass this fantastic effort next time.