I played in the wine, immersing—and losing—a crumby morsel of honey bread. In rank desperation, I couldn’t help but wish the subtle sweetness leaked into the disturbingly bitter glass of unmentionable wine. As I understand it, great wines, like hosts, are meant to guide and accompany – never intrude. This off-putting vintage, however, from some made-up cellar in a fantastical year, subtracted from every good taste of my candy bar. No, it more than subtracted – it poisoned. I know little about wines, and less about how to enjoy them, but not even I could agree that there was a suitable food to pair with this souring grape urine. Truth be told, it repulsed me completely, making me wish the whole business of drinking was reserved for heart transplants on battlefields and leg amputations in school bathrooms. Note a heavy musk. Whatever that means.
Color: Mostly red. No, purple. Purpley-red?
Cost: I don’t remember paying for this.
Cork: Twist-off cap with shiny gold wrapping
Best paired with: Various kinds of disintegrating litter box filler