I thought this was funny based on my last two posts, plus the universal griping over the end of Daylight Saving Time.
On a rock ‘n roll-related note, Tara and I recently watched the Daisy Jones & The Six miniseries on Prime Video. I was a huge fan of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s 2019 novel — hands-down the best book I read that year — so I was jazzed when they turned it into a televised drama.
Actually, I was initially bummed they didn’t make a movie out of it, but there’s no way they could have fit so much story into two hours. Properly telling the tale requires the full 10 episodes. I think it’s brilliant. Casting Elvis Presley’s granddaughter as Daisy Jones was genius; she’s fiery and sexy and sings the hell out of those songs. Sam Claflin as Billy Dunne is no slouch either. Both are mad talented and have excellent chemistry. The songs, based off imaginary titles in the novel, were written by real musicians like Blake Mills, Marcus Mumford, and Phoebe Bridgers. They are catchy AF and perfectly embody that 1970s Fleetwood Mac guitar vibe.
And yes, you can listen to the fake band’s album Aurora on Spotify.
We enjoyed it so much, we’re already re-watching the series, less than two weeks after finishing it the first time. If you’re a fan of Almost Famous or That Thing You Do!, or hell, great rock ‘n roll, you should check it out!
On another rock ‘n roll-related note, Tara and I are headed to Minneapolis on Friday to catch Billy Joel and Stevie Nicks in concert. We’ll be able to cross two performers off our concert bucket list in one fell swoop.
Minneapolis is a 4.5-hour drive from home, which isn’t bad, but we decided to make a weekend of it as neither of us have been to the Twin Cities before. We’re even meeting up with blogging friend The Travel Architect and her hubby for a morning meal. Should be a great time, and the weather looks to cooperate nicely. When you plan a trip six months in advance, November in Minnesota sounds like a roll of the dice, but they’re predicting sunshine and mid-40s. We can live with that.
OK, one last rock ‘n roll-related note.
When we were staying overnight in Milwaukee for the Nathaniel Rateliff concert in September, our hotel had complimentary bottles of S.Pellegrino sparkling natural mineral water in each room. Well, bottle — singular — ’cause it ain’t exactly cheap.
Then again, neither was the hotel room…
I grabbed the bottle, shoved it in my suitcase, stuck it in the fridge when we got home, and promptly forgot about it. Tara questioned why I was even bringing it home in the first place. I’d actually never tried it before; all I knew about San Pellegrino was that it was a hoity-toity Italian brand and a Top Chef sponsor.
But it was free, which was as good an excuse as any.
I finally got around to cracking it open six weeks later because that big green bottle was taking up space in the back of the fridge, and dammit, I had to stick that container of leftover spaghetti somewhere.
I’m not a water snob. In fact, I never buy bottled water, because I hate the plastic aftertaste and honestly think the stuff I get out of my tap is just as good. In other words, I had zero expectations for that bottle of S.Pellegrino. But that first sip was the closest I’ve ever come to having a spiritual experience. The water — it is just water, right!? — was indescribably delicious. Creamy and effervescent, words I never would have imagined using to describe water.
Curious about what kind of sorcery went into making such an amazing but simple product, I turned to their website. Did you know that natural mineral water, just like wine, has its own distinctive terroir?
I didn’t even know what a terroir was. Sounded like a small dog to me, but it’s actually a French term for the unique environment that determines its signature mineral content.
In the case of S.Pellegrino, that’s a natural spring in the San Pellegrino Terme area in Val Brembana, nestled in the foothills of the Italian Alps. The water takes 30+ years to travel through the rock before surfacing, naturally enriched with mineral salts, calcium, and magnesium from its long journey. A touch of carbon dioxide is added for acidity and to accentuate the scent and taste, it’s bottled up, a 5000% upcharge is applied, and voila! — this nectar of the gods is available for mass consumption.
The website is full of superlatives. Its signature gentle bubbles, subtle nuances, and perfect mineral balance (are) ideal for pairing with food, leading to its popularity with chefs and sommeliers and its fame as the fine dining water served in the best restaurants around the world.
Which admittedly sounds like a bunch of hooey. I would have rolled my eyes over such ridiculous claims if they hadn’t already settled into the back of my head after that first sip.
Look, I know the old joke. Evian is naïve spelled backwards, the lesson being, a fool and his money are soon parted. But S.Pellegrino spelled backwards is onirgelleps, so I think I’m safe.
Adding it to my shopping list.
Mark My Words 
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