So there I am, in a windowless room, drinking bulk wine from a carafe. It was thin, sour stuff, and if you could catch a bouquet off it, over the perfumes, colognes, aftershaves, and hair products, well you’re a better man than I Gunga Din.
The thing is, I enjoyed the glass enormously, and the meal.
And the reason has nothing to do with the vintage, or the wine but the occasion and the company. Friends were getting married, and that’s something to celebrate. So we sat there, with our table mates drinking wine, thinking of weddings past, and I&M’s future, and were more than content. We were happy.
Wine and food matter more than the score some cork dork awards them.