Last night at the company Christmas party I cliqued about with Friends #2-4. It was quite nice; an open bar and dinner at Trattoria Branica. They fed us salmon, assorted vegetation, and a hunk of beef. The beef must have been from Montana, but the salmon was divine.
So we were hanging out by the bar, where it was oddly quiet, and I smelled the wine and thought, “Wine. Perhaps I should give wine another try. All my friends like wine. It smells good. I should like wine.”
I don’t like wine. Every time someone offers me wine and they say, “Here. Ellen, you’ll like this, it’s sweet; it’s a Riesling.” This is why the word “Riesling” now makes bile rise in my throat, from all the swigs that turned out to be as sweet as black coffee.
But, like coffee, it smells good, so I keep trying it.
I bellied up and asked the bartender for a Blush wine, because Friend #2 had said it was sweet. “Not Manischewitz sweet, but pretty sweet,” Friend #3 agreed. When I accepted the Blush, I asked suspiciously, “Is this sweet?”
“Oh no,” he said, “It’s not at all sweet.”
I handed it back, then I realized he’d just have to pour it out. “Oh. Well, I’ll drink it anyway.”
“I can make it sweet,” he said and I thought, “What is he going to do? Add four packets of Equal and cream like I do to coffee?”
He glanced about the bar, went for a bottle, stopped himself, then went for the Chambord. Friend #3 intoned “Oh Lord, bless this thy hand grenade,” because that joke slays me.
And you know what? Wine and Chambord are really good together. I called it Chwine, because Winebord sounded too much like a blatantly cruel interrogation technique. (I looked up Chambord recipes to see if it already had a name, but it would appear the people who name Chambord cocktails are the same ones who populate http://www.urban-dictionary.com.)
13 responses to “Oh No Oenophilia”
I’m pretty sure that Chambord makes anything taste better. Like, say, waffles.
I do not like the taste of wine either. I do not understand those who actually do like the taste of wine. Maybe it is genetic and is in some way connected to a fear to TV snow.
I’ll drink just about any kind of red wine (Zinfandel’s being my favorite), but when it comes to white wine I can only drink Riesling Kabinett. Period. That’s it. It’s not that they make me sick, it’s that any other white wine puts me in extreme pain. Pain from my ears down the sides of my neck and into my shoulder area. Severe pain.
My father used to put Chambord in Champagne as a treat on Christmas morning. The heavier Chambord would sit at the bottom of the Champagne flute like a deep, red pearl. As you drank the Champagne, the Chambord would gradually blend in. I remember it being quite tasty. I really miss my dad….
sgazzeti – Ha! Chwaffles!Zayrina – It must be! Oh, and you said you were 300 pounds? Might be that too.KC – that’s weird….pageycooks – you could do that yourself.
So, like, if guys can be blood brothers, we gals can be fat sisters? Neat.
I prefer sisters of the bosom.
If you ever try Riesling again and don’t want to do the Chambord thing (I must get me some of this), try a Late Harvest Riesling. They are much sweeter. Also, if you really like sweetness (and I mean REALLY like it), try a Riesling Eiswein. It’s like drinking syrup. Glorious, alcoholic syrup. Damn. Now I’m all thirsty.
wyo – Okay, Riesling Eiswein, but if it isn’t sweet I will spit it out on the table and curse your name.
LOL
A sushi place we used to go to served sake with chambord – they called it “Purple Haze”, and it was deelicious.
I could try it, but I’ve quit drinking alcohol. Thank heavens for the one remaining galvanized brain cell!
wyo – Don’t laugh! I mean it! ;->Tracy27 – Woo! Sake and Chambord! Why didn’t they call it Sakbord? Or Chake?pageycooks – Yes…sigh…I should be as concerned about my brain cells.