The first time I tried wine, I hated it.
I thought there was something wrong with me. As an Italian woman, it is my birthright to love wine. But I didn't. My mom has always loved wine. Back in the day when I was a kid and she wasn't a fancy retired life of leisure lady, she drank boxed Franzia. I thought those little spout pourer gadgets were the coolest thing ever.
Luckily I didn't give up. I tried more wine. Other wines. All kinds of wine! Turns out I just didn't like that one specific wine. Now? I love wine and all is right with the world. Or all *was* right with the world, anyway.
Until tonight.
Tonight, my wine opener pinched the crap out of my hand. So hard it made a little blood blister. Maybe it was protesting having to open such a cheap bottle, or perhaps it just had an off day.
No matter what the reason, I feel like a very close, dear friend has betrayed me.
The lesson here? Take note of this important safety issue:
wine with a spout > wine with a cork
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2 comments:
Were you enjoying your beloved wine while writing this post? or did your wine opener really pinch your wine? That's just rude if it did.
Oh, man, I wish I could reply with a picture of my bar! Suffice to say that boxed wine has come a loooong way, especially the South American stuff. Still, sometimes what you want is in a bottle, and the corkscrew should not betray you! Maybe you should start seeing other... tools(?)... for a while? (That doesn't sound quite right, but it's what I'm going with.)
P.S. I keep forgetting to give you the bottle that Liz left for you at "Thanksgiving".
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