An Uncultured Sort of Girl

My efforts towards self-refinement tend to end badly so I don’t know why I thought this one would end differently. If there was a culprit, it would be my family’s diligent weekly pilgrimage to Costco (it’s like clockwork), which makes picking up a random bottle of wine so easy as you casually make your way from house wares to raw meat. I usually can’t resist reading at least two descriptive labels, but it only takes two for the Lush effect* to completely incapacitate my common sense while cajoling me with a sweet lullaby of “buyyyy meeee!” (*The Lush effect is a heinous consequence of entering any Lush store whereupon one is assaulted with yummy phrases like “hint of honey” or “splash of peach” that conjure pleasant imagery for all senses … mmmm so good).

And two bottles of Riesling, one bottle of Chardonnay, and one bottle of Muscat later, I realize that I am no closer to being a connoisseur of wine. This is because wine tastes like alcohol rather than the sweet fruit juice that I secretly hope it to be after reading its charming product description. For example, to the left, you can see my most recent purchase, which I’ve almost finished consuming. It is a 10 year tawny Portuguese port.

I have no idea what that means, but here is how Tesco (my fave supermarket … although I do also enjoy Trader Joe’s) describes it:

Fine elegant tawny port … Delicate fig and raisin flavours and a long, nutty finish.

Right. Here is how I would describe it: initially bearable but with a long alcohol-y finish that brings back shameful memories of store-brand vodka cooled on my window sill and drunk from an empty Nutella container (classy!).

So I’m slightly giving up on my dream of being refined. I’ll stick with my sissy girl Chardonnays and the occasional champagne. But I did learn one thing from my experimentation: even the “driest” of wines tastes magically delicious with the right amount of diet Snapple.