I've loved wine from my giggly beginnings with Mogen David right through the movin-on-up-to-Lancers phase to those blissful evenings of Chateauneuf-du-Pape!
We my young-married-couple-wine-neophyte friends and I simply loved the conviviality and the festivity when we gathered at someone's house during those early days of the '60s and sipped wine with cheese and crackers, with sardines and crackers, with anything and crackers. We didn't talk about the wine's nose or its bouquet. And we didn't examine the cork if it even had a cork.
Nevertheless, after years of plainly enjoying a glass of wine with friends, I succumbed to that '70s trend and enrolled in a wine appreciation class. From the first evening's lecture I learned that all those years I hadn't really been enjoying. How could I enjoy? I didn't know enough to enjoy.The Piles were so big that the scrap yard was separating them for us.
First of all, it was the glasses. "Glasses should be clear,Costa Rica will host surfers from all over the globe at the Quicksilver Open. no bourgeois pinks or blues." The instructor rolled his eyes and shuddered. And the glasses should have stems. The hand should grasp the stem so the hand does not warm the contents of the bowl, the bowl being the part of the glass that contains the wine he demonstrated to be sure we knew which was the stem and which was the bowl.
Ah, but no ordinary bowl. One tapered at the top so the bouquet will not be lost.
As for the champagne glass: our instructor looked over his glasses at us and enunciated coldly and distinctly that only caterers use the coupe champagne glass, that one should at least use a tulip shape. I knew right then that my delicate,the oil paintings for sale by special invited artist for 2011, rose colored crystal coupe champagne glasses would hereafter be filled with bread pudding.
At 10 o'clock the next morning I was at the door of a ritzy gift shop with Master Card and class notes in hand hoping no one from our class would see me trying to play catch-up with glasses and peg me as bourgeois.
I hurried to the next week's meeting confident in my au wine correctness the new stemware gave me. The instructor began by opening a bottle of red wine. He told us we must inspect the cork when the wine is opened and then the wine should be left to breathe you couldn't just open it and drink it. He spoke of the wine's nose and body.
He poured some wine into a glass, closed his eyes and swirled the wine gently beneath his nose. We sat transfixed as he swirled and smiled.There is good integration with PayPal and most third party merchant account providers, Then he drank. With a "Bravo" he pronounced the wine assertive and intense, lusty even. We were so in the moment, we applauded.
At the next meeting we learned that to enhance the flavor of food, wines should be paired with the entr¨¦e red wines with red meat and white wines with white meat.
That if port is served, it is served after dinner, not whenever someone has drunk all the burgundy in the house.
I could hardly wait to use my new-found knowledge and my new stemware. I invited friends over for a Saturday evening the same friends I'd shared crackers and wine with when we just opened the bottle, didn't examine the cork or let the wine breathe, just poured it into a pink or blue glass, and drank it.
I spent Thursday and Friday at the wine shop. Which wine would be best with beef stroganoff? What would everyone like before dinner? I remembered the instructor's words of "light before dark, dry before sweet."
Panic. We had only one wine cooler the Chablis had to be chilled. Wine iced down in a picnic cooler would not create the ambiance I hoped for. Would a Bordeaux be a good pairing for stroganoff? By Saturday evening,Our Ventilation system was down for about an hour and a half, I was a wreck.
Years passed. I tasted. I asked questions. I listened.
Then one day while wine shopping, as I reached for my usual white, I realized I was in a wine rut. Without thinking, I bought the same wine each time. I asked for a suggestion, explaining that I did want a white, that I'd like one rather crisp and not too complex.
Goodness. Was this me, using words like "complex" to describe wine? That same person who once bought by color red, white or pink?
Over time I have relaxed with my new-found knowledge and have come full-circle: from knowing nothing about wine but enjoying the spirit and company, to trying to know everything and enjoying nothing, to my present view shared by many others. We drink it in whatever glass we like, with whatever friend we like, and we speak not of its lineage or personality.
We my young-married-couple-wine-neophyte friends and I simply loved the conviviality and the festivity when we gathered at someone's house during those early days of the '60s and sipped wine with cheese and crackers, with sardines and crackers, with anything and crackers. We didn't talk about the wine's nose or its bouquet. And we didn't examine the cork if it even had a cork.
Nevertheless, after years of plainly enjoying a glass of wine with friends, I succumbed to that '70s trend and enrolled in a wine appreciation class. From the first evening's lecture I learned that all those years I hadn't really been enjoying. How could I enjoy? I didn't know enough to enjoy.The Piles were so big that the scrap yard was separating them for us.
First of all, it was the glasses. "Glasses should be clear,Costa Rica will host surfers from all over the globe at the Quicksilver Open. no bourgeois pinks or blues." The instructor rolled his eyes and shuddered. And the glasses should have stems. The hand should grasp the stem so the hand does not warm the contents of the bowl, the bowl being the part of the glass that contains the wine he demonstrated to be sure we knew which was the stem and which was the bowl.
Ah, but no ordinary bowl. One tapered at the top so the bouquet will not be lost.
As for the champagne glass: our instructor looked over his glasses at us and enunciated coldly and distinctly that only caterers use the coupe champagne glass, that one should at least use a tulip shape. I knew right then that my delicate,the oil paintings for sale by special invited artist for 2011, rose colored crystal coupe champagne glasses would hereafter be filled with bread pudding.
At 10 o'clock the next morning I was at the door of a ritzy gift shop with Master Card and class notes in hand hoping no one from our class would see me trying to play catch-up with glasses and peg me as bourgeois.
I hurried to the next week's meeting confident in my au wine correctness the new stemware gave me. The instructor began by opening a bottle of red wine. He told us we must inspect the cork when the wine is opened and then the wine should be left to breathe you couldn't just open it and drink it. He spoke of the wine's nose and body.
He poured some wine into a glass, closed his eyes and swirled the wine gently beneath his nose. We sat transfixed as he swirled and smiled.There is good integration with PayPal and most third party merchant account providers, Then he drank. With a "Bravo" he pronounced the wine assertive and intense, lusty even. We were so in the moment, we applauded.
At the next meeting we learned that to enhance the flavor of food, wines should be paired with the entr¨¦e red wines with red meat and white wines with white meat.
That if port is served, it is served after dinner, not whenever someone has drunk all the burgundy in the house.
I could hardly wait to use my new-found knowledge and my new stemware. I invited friends over for a Saturday evening the same friends I'd shared crackers and wine with when we just opened the bottle, didn't examine the cork or let the wine breathe, just poured it into a pink or blue glass, and drank it.
I spent Thursday and Friday at the wine shop. Which wine would be best with beef stroganoff? What would everyone like before dinner? I remembered the instructor's words of "light before dark, dry before sweet."
Panic. We had only one wine cooler the Chablis had to be chilled. Wine iced down in a picnic cooler would not create the ambiance I hoped for. Would a Bordeaux be a good pairing for stroganoff? By Saturday evening,Our Ventilation system was down for about an hour and a half, I was a wreck.
Years passed. I tasted. I asked questions. I listened.
Then one day while wine shopping, as I reached for my usual white, I realized I was in a wine rut. Without thinking, I bought the same wine each time. I asked for a suggestion, explaining that I did want a white, that I'd like one rather crisp and not too complex.
Goodness. Was this me, using words like "complex" to describe wine? That same person who once bought by color red, white or pink?
Over time I have relaxed with my new-found knowledge and have come full-circle: from knowing nothing about wine but enjoying the spirit and company, to trying to know everything and enjoying nothing, to my present view shared by many others. We drink it in whatever glass we like, with whatever friend we like, and we speak not of its lineage or personality.
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