Why can’t I just enjoy the cheap stuff without feeling guilty? I’ve had really good wine. I’ve had really cheap wine. And I’ve enjoyed some of the cheap stuff far more than the good stuff. But nowadays just enjoying wine isn’t enough for most people.
Nowadays you have to have glasses that go with the type of wine. You have to have a stem so that you don’t affect the temperature of the wine. You have to have a proper shape to trap the appropriate whatevers. Me? I like a beer mug. Hard to tip over a beer mug full of wine.
Speaking of tipping over, I drink white wine. I don’t narrow it down much more than that. White wine stains less than red. It’s that simple. I know there are incredible red wines that will make a grown man cry, but I also cry over spilled red wine on blouses and rugs.
Some people drink wine, and talk about the drinking of the wine, and discuss the “nose” and all those other terms they use. I drink wine WHILE I do something else. Like eat. Or watch TV. Or talk to someone whose company I enjoy. I could be drinking Kool-aid and not notice the difference. The joys of fine wine are lost on me in the middle of a close football game or a tense scene in a show.
And don’t even get me started on boxed wine. The greatest invention since pantyhose. But wine buffs look at you with the contempt reserved for a person who has just farted in church. Boxed wine is so convenient. No corks that break and won’t fit back in the bottle. No bottle at all to break, or not fit in the refrigerator door.
You can’t even buy boxed wine in a grocery store without looks of distain from total strangers. I find myself driving across town to some hole in the wall package store where no one makes eye contact to get my boxed fix.
I will admit that I’ve moved on beyond my early years of Ripple and Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill, and I no longer buy wine because of the cute label (though the name “Fat Bastard” still appeals to my sense of humor). But let me continue to shop by price point and screw top and stop making me feel guilty as I sit here typing with my coffee cup full of something with a hint of a grape.
