Monday, January 14, 2008

A wine story.

I don’t like wine.
There, I’ve said it.
Around Napa Valley, those are fightin’ words. In a region economically dominated and largely supported by the wine industry it’s almost treason to speak so boldly. I could get locked up. Or run out of town by corkscrew wielding vintners with murder in their eyes.

I still don’t like wine.
Sure, it has a nice smell. A few sips are ok. Here’s something: I like grape juice! And Martinelli’s sparkling cider.
But Cabernet, Merlot or worse, Chardonnay? Yuck. Sour. Bitter. Blech.
Give me a 7-Up chaser, please.

Boy does the wine flows like water around here.
Wine at auctions, wine at dinner, wine at parties and ribbon cuttings and fundraisers. The wine selection alone at our favorite grocery store is four aisles deep.
Wine, wine, everywhere, and I don’t want a drop to drink.

Every once and awhile at a nice dinner someone will bring out a special bottle. It will be uncorked with great anticipation. It’ll be poured with great oooh-ing and ahhhh-ing. And I’ll think to myself, “This is the wine. This is the wine that will turn me into a wine lover. I will sniff it and swirl it. I will want to drink buckets of it and swim in it. I will finally understand why people love this fermented alcoholic juice.”
I will take a few drinks. But it’s no use. No matter how pleasant that first taste is, I don’t want more.
Nope, I still don’t like wine.

I’m stealthy about my wine aversion.
“Want some wine?” someone will ask.
“Oooh, no thanks. Gotta work tomorrow,” I say.
Or “What are you drinking, red or white?” Me: “Um, Pellegrino?”
Then come the questions.
“Don’t you drink??”
Oh jeez, now I’m in for it. Duck and cover. People can’t handle the truth. It’s inconceivable to them.
“Don’t like wine? Really? Nooooooo….”

Some may think I’m either an alcoholic or a real wine snob who only drinks the most exclusive vintages. Or I might come off as a teetotaling doo-gooder.
La dee da. Don’t care. I just don’t like wine.

In closing, I give my sincere apologies to good friends Michelle and Mike. These two LOVE wine. They adore it. We once spent a whole weekend in 1989 wine tasting in California’s central valley. I was bored to tears. Sorry about that guys.

Mike and Michelle once said they’d like to open their own winery.
I say go for it. Crush them grapes. I’ll enjoy the view.
With a Shirley Temple.


Anonymous said...

You seem like such a normal person, yet something is obviously very WRONG with you. Maybe you would be happier living in a Kansas wheat field?

You realize, of course, that you're occupying a spot in the Napa Valley that could be better occupied by a wine drinker.

Couldn't you move and commute in from Fairfield?

Michelle 'Lover of Wine and all Things Good' said...

Being a long time Libertarian, I am all for personal freedoms so you can live in Napa and say you don’t like wine. I live in South Dakota and don’t like hunting. Okay, same but different.

You know, people from all over come specifically to SD to hunt pheasant. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to shoot deer, elk, antelope, turkey, pheasant or mountain lion. Now, I would eat all of those critters except the mountain lion. That would be weird. I wonder if it tastes like chicken?

I am however, drinking a glass of Peachy Canyon Zin right now and fondly thinking of you sitting in Napa drinking 7-Up. It's all good!

BTW, I remember that trip. It was Pariso Hot Springs in that fabulous 'trailer' Mike's company had. We'd like to go back. (To Paso not the trailer). I also remember the zillion stars. Here in SD, we have a zillion and one (really), Northern lights too which are wild...

Jennifer said...

How could I leave out the part about spending the night in a trailer!