..., originally uploaded by Knit Girl....
I find wine drinkers to be a peculiar bunch of people. I find the whole thing to be rather pretentious . . . ostentatious if you will.
To me, most wines taste rather similar. Albeit some are drier or sweeter than others. But if you were to give me a taste from a $15.00 bottle of wine and one from a $150.00 bottle, I probably couldn't tell the difference to save my life. And to the most seasoned sommelier, I would probably horrify them by choosing the $15.00 bottle as the best.
I have no concern that a particular wine was produced on a rather quiet hillside in France which inevitably infused the body with flavours including rare mushrooms, lavender, and sage. I will not lose sleep if I don't know a dessert wine from a table wine. I'm the type of girl who would rather swill the wine from a plastic cup than worry about if I'm holding the stem of the glass properly. And I will openly mock anyone who tries to convince me that their particular wine is superior -- that it's complexity is divine because "it continues to reveal different things about itself".
So the other night when faced with this particular conversation, I quietly ignored the discussion and tossed the corks to my husband. "These will make a fantastic image," I told him. I think it worked.
When I find someone I respect writing about an edgy, nervous wine that dithered in the glass, I cringe. When I hear someone I don't respect talking about an austere, unforgiving wine, I turn a bit austere and unforgiving myself. When I come across stuff like that and remember about the figs and bananas, I want to snigger uneasily. You can call a wine red, and dry, and strong, and pleasant. After that, watch out....