After my final food-based experience yesterday, I thought it only suitable to carry out one more drinks challenge. However, instead of trying a new beverage (I think by now I've basically exhausted that possibility), Day 33 saw me drink one of my usual tipples in a way I had never before, as I went Wine-Tasting. In the immortal words of Rihanna: "I'll drink to that!"
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| Liquid dinner, anyone? |
For this particular experience, I was in highly capable hands. Peter, my astonishingly tall Danish friend (or The Great Dane, as he is fondly known) is a seasoned wine taster. And that’s not just a euphemism for a piss-head. In fact, Peter will be representing his country in the 2012 Left Bank Bordeaux Cup, one of the world’s leading amateur wine tasting competitions. In the company of such expertise, I felt like a bit of a pleb. They say Lambrini girls have more fun, but this one was suddenly way out of her depth. #wishiwasinessex
I’ll admit that it’s slightly odd that I’ve never actually been wine-tasting, given my intimate love for anything with an alcohol content level. The closest I’ve come to quaffing wine instead of downing it was when I visited a little French town for the release of its famous Beaujolais Nouveau in 2009. Their version of “wine-tasting”, however, was basically taking an empty glass around a big tent filled with representatives of different wineries and drink as much as humanly possible. This drunken quest ended up with me sneaking into the Town Hall, getting up on stage and dancing with a number of the village’s elderly residents (before eventually passing out). Youth is so not wasted on the young.
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| Bottoms up! (Yes, I do realise it's a Champagne flute. Minimal error.) |
I hoped that today’s wine-tasting session with Peter would be a slightly classier affair. Certainly, it started off that way. Peter brought out two bottles: Tommasi Amarone della Valpolicella Classico (2007) and Pouilly Fumé (2008). The Amarone was a deep red wine produced in the Veneto region of Italy. Its flavour – I was assured – was full of dark berries, giving it a fruity kick. Our group of novices was shown a classic trick to gauge the quality of the wine: swill it round the glass and watch the lines (or “legs”, as they’re known) form as they trickle down the side. Often seen on film, this method is a quick way of sorting good wine from bad: the more legs, the better the wine. Apparently. I sipped my drink in quiet acquiescence of this method, none the wiser of how good wine should actually taste…
The white wines that Peter presented were really lovely. The Pouilly Fumé came first, to the delight of one of my tasting buddies, who had drunk this particular wine at her wedding. I was initially impressed by her experience of the product, until she pronounced its name as “Pooey Foomey”. Incorrect (as any Frenchman will tell you), and also slightly vulgar. This was supposed to be a tasteful event, so I fittingly turned my nose up at her potty talk. Tut tut.
The next bottle to be presented was Chablis, Premier Cru (2006): another lovely white wine with floral overtones. We all sniffed our glasses with copious nods of agreement and passionate noises of enjoyment. The more wine I drunk, the more enthusiastic I got. I was beginning to use expressions like “strong bouquet” and “vibrant hues”. Clearly the wine was getting to me, and I’ll openly admit that by bottle number four – a Faustino 1 Gran Reserva, from Rioja, Spain – I could have been drinking orange squash and wouldn’t have know the difference. Still, the wine kept arriving, the tasting continued and the glasses were dutifully emptied.
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| Not quite sure when this happened... |
Needless to say, I can’t remember much of the rest of the evening. I eventually ended up in a taxi heading to West London, and am pretty sure that I crashed a private party at some point. A classy affair? Not so much. Still, nothing will quite beat folk-dancing with French OAPs. Wow, that’s something I never thought I’d write.
Day 33: Drink myself Red, White and Rosé. CHEERS!
Peace & Love,
Rich xx
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