I recently tried a plum wine at a restaurant specializing in Japanese and Korean cuisine. It was akin to sucking down liquid Jolly Ranchers. I may approach this from a position of bias because I prefer very dry red wines or a nice Bordeaux from ’82, but I also prefer supermodels, and I am much too ugly to date them. I did incorporate the sipping of this liquid candy into my meal of beef bul-gol-gi, and although it would be far too sweet to drink on its own, it did complement the meal in a pixie-stickesque sort of way.
Allow me to wander astray from wine for just a moment. It has been my good fortune to try a snifter of French oak finish 12-year Glenlivet. Although I have had nightmarish experiences with scotch in the past, this bottle came highly recommended.
Just as one should not judge Chicago based on the drive through its southern arrangements to Indiana when one should really be overlooking Lake Michigan from a posh downtown vista, so too should you avoid generalizing based on one paint-thinning scotch experience.
The dangerous odour was still present, but my tongue sang glorious praises to the scotch gods when the lovers made contact. It is so smooth your senses can barely catch the suggestion that you are drinking something slightly poisonous. It was so magical, in fact, that it dissolved in my mouth and didn’t even make it down my throat. The downside: It costs about $40, and yes, it still tastes like scotch.
I also had an opportunity to sample a reasonable bottle of Australian wine. Australia is opportune in that it has excellent growing conditions and there is plenty of space for vineyards.
European wines, although very well established, have to deal with limited space and have higher prices, accordingly. With these conditions, one might find that with an Australian and a European wine of similar caliber, the former costs 50% less. Stonehaven Shiraz from 1999 is such an example. If you are looking to get the most out of six dollars, this bottle is for you.
I had previously established that wine is an excellent tool for introduction, but overcoming your own social shyness and inviting a stranger (especially one of the opposite sex) to enjoy nice liquor with you may be too much for some to bear. Therefore, I declare this Saturday to be Lawrence’s “Invite a Hot Stranger to Wine Day.”
I am too lazy to check if there is a real corresponding holiday, and too impatient to wait for it if there is. And most importantly, if there are any ladies that cannot find an appropriate wine friend, I may be reached at x7293 (read: wine party).
Naturally, the opinions expressed in this review are superfluous and silly, unlike the rest of the journal you are holding, which should be taken very, very seriously: much like a grave threat against one’s family. Then again, if you are reading this review because you are unable to produce an opinion of your own, just call me Bacchus* now.
*LU’s BACCHUS, the student group that promotes responsible drinking, cringes at Mr. Grady’s reference, but acknowledges that it’s their own fault for selecting such an ironic name.