Monday, February 13, 2006

Wine Whine


I will never buy another bottle of Pepperwood Grove Voignier wine ever again. Why? Because it took a corkscrew, a pair of scissors, two chopsticks, a hammer, and a knife to get into it. I've been stumped by this bottle for a while now. I think I started trying to open it a month ago. Tonight, I was determined to get into it. Why? Because I can't let a little bottle of wine get me down.

First off, I was naive in thinking that the cork was topped with a bit of foam. The entire cork was foam! Some kind of industrial strength, AA-detox-Betty-Ford-Clinic foam. It was pre-teen underage drinking proof and almost adult proof. The waiter's corkscrew gave up because the worm would get in, and it just wouldn't budge after that. So, I tried to break it up and dig it out with a knife (not one of my expensive ones, mind you) to no avail. The glass around the opening started to grind against the back of the blade into a fine dust. Now I'm wondering what the hell is going on.
I sighed. I think about the situation a minute with my hand on my hip. I up end the bottle, and tiny bubbles rise to the surface, teasing me. Apparently my corkscrew made a small hole. Well, I think to myself, those Chinese are ingenious people.

I got it! I'll just drive a chopstick into the cork, thus creating a hole. Well, they might be ingenius people, but I forgot that I'm not Chinese. So there I stood, after minutes of pounding and praying that I didn't smash my hand and end up with the chopstick lodged in the foam. I'm thinking about telling the mayor of New Orleans to invest in some of this stuff just in case there's another hurricane. So, going for broke, I use the other chopstick (again, a pair from take-out, do you think I am crazy enough to use a good pair?) to push the first one all the way through. I upend the bottle again. Nothing. Not even a drop to tease me. No more air bubbles either. I grab the corkscrew again and screw it in at an angle. Somehow, miracle of miracles, I lodge it in just right and am able to get it stuck and tug and twist the cork out. By now, the wine is no longer chilled and I'm quite tired. I'm not sure if it's the best glass of wine I've had because of all of the work, or if it's the worst because it is a cheap bottle and I went through all of that for a glass of cheap wine. In any case, I'm still drinking it.

Poor Rosie. She had to witness the whole thing. Now she thinks the other kids are right in calling her mother an alcoholic.


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