Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Two nights ago, I was drinking a lovely glass of Chilean Carmera (from the Colchagua Valley, in case you happen to have your world atlas opened to page 108) and started sneezing like a ridiculous person, a rapid series of high-pitched snicks. I thought I was getting sick, oh la.
And last night, I'm cozied up with The Mister and a recorded episode of Masterpiece Mystery (okay, it was Project Runway, and okay, it was the dog), savoring a glass of Chilean Penalolen, and again with the sneezing. I was all "What's with the sneezing?"
I've concluded that I'm allergic to Chilean wine. Kill me now.
The Mister went to Chili a couple years ago and fell in love with the fruits of their vine, hence our small cache. I looked closely at the label: "In the mouth, the structure of the velvety tannins is overwhelmed by a voluptuous texture, offering a precise architecture and a long, bright finish where the fruit pairs with spicy chocolate and tobacco."
Spicy chocolate and tobacco! No wonder I'm sneezing! I can't think of a more unappetizing pairing since Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt.
My father is probably having the last laugh right now. My sisters and I like to make fun of the plonk he brings along when visiting. From the Winn Dixie, it comes in a bottle resembling a clay jug with a convenient screw-off cap. Dad savors a single glass of plonk at 5:00 each evening while sitting on the porch. A closer look at the label reveals its constitution:
"In the mouth, the ethyl-laced fumes compete with the sandpaper texture for dominance, suggesting an unsupervised fermentation, possibly by a person named Jasper, who undoubtedly dropped his spicy chocolate cigarette into the vat."
I can hear him now. "At least my wine doesn't make me sneeze like a ridiculous person."
Good point. But it probably does explain why he doesn't have any hair.