No this is not a post about laundry (knowing when to fold’em, har har har).
It’s a post about wine. More specifically, when it’s time to give up a wine and not finish the bottle. Given the price of the bottles we buy around here lately ($15-20) and the fact we spent two hours calculating our household budget tonight, you’d think that Artos and I are believers in drinking to the last drop so as to maximize our return on investment.
I have this theory: if something really isn’t fun, and you don’t have to be doing it, STOP DOING IT. Lots of people think this is called being a quitter, but I just call this embracing the fact that life is precious and short. I put down novels that I’m not enjoying: after finishing 5 years of an English Lit degree, I think I earned the right to determine that a book is crap. So I see no reason at all to continue drinking a bottle of wine that isn’t spinning my pee-pee (Artos tells me I have my father-in-law to thank for this terrific phrase. Love it).
The bottle in question tonight is called Paiara, a wine from the town of Bari in the south of Italy. Now for starters, why didn’t the excess of vowels tip me off to something? The wine came with a recommendation from a wine shop employee at Mark Anthony (sorry dw00 for shopping the competition). Suffice it to say I won’t be taking his advice anymore.
We made a stew in our slow cooker this morning and put about 2/3 cup into it. Fast forward nine hours, and what would normally have been a delectable mass of veggies and beef was just… a mass. Kind of funny-tasting, too. Ugh. We put that aside and settled our focus on consuming the rest of the bottle, but every sip just made me more disappointed.
Normally when I’m drinking red wine, I feel a warmth, a fullness in the mouth, and I taste rich berries. I like it when I get a little earth in there too. (Don’t laugh - you should see the list of smells and tastes on my wine tasting reference card). This wine gave me a burning feeling at the back of the throat and just tasted like rotting grape - which surprisingly is really not what you’re going for in a wine.
So the Paiara from Puglia gets poured down the drain. Better luck next time. Such is the way of wine drinking - sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you get the pits. Just never count your money while you’re sittin’ at the table.
Incidentally, does anyone have any specific questions about wine they’d like to see me discuss here? I can’t promise a definitive (or even accurate) response, but I’ll be happy to pontificate at length. About wine.