Wine snobs tend to annoy me. But, then again, people in general tend to annoy me. But let’s get back to the subject at hand - wine snobs. As one who cannot tell the difference between a Chateau Rothschild and Mad Dog 20/20, I’m uniquely qualified to comment on this.
The wife and I took a trip to Napa, California some years ago. We had a great time visiting wineries, eating wonderful food and experiencing the Wine Train. I couldn’t help, however, that I felt out of place. No matter where one turns in Napa, one hears people singing the praises of various wines. Where I get the feeling that I’m an outsider is when hearing or reading about descriptions of a particular wine (“it has shades of apricot accented with light hints of grapefruit”). To me, it just tastes like, well, wine.
That stated, I’ve always gravitated toward wines that are placed in the section of the store deemed the “economy section” next to the Old Milwaukee and down the aisle from the generic cheese doodles. In these wines one cannot discern hints of apricot or grapefruit, just undertones of potato peelings. Despite misgiving that people have about economy wines, after years of experience I can attest to the fact that one can get used to their taste. Mind you that socially you become a bit of an outcast when showing up at a party with a 1.5 liter bottle of Lancer’s Rosé. On the bright side, usually you can go home with most of the contents of the bottle intact.
Thus, after 35 years with the wife who has quaffed numerous bottles of cheap wine with me, she told me something that shocked me to my very core. She told me that she discovered a love of more expensive wines. The reason for this is that “they don’t give me a headache and acid reflux.”
Now I’ve heard it all.
In simple economic terms, one can offset the offensive effects of a $3 bottle of wine with a few Advil and a handful of Tums which may set you back a total of 25¢.
And that’s still a heck of a lot cheaper than an expensive $3.75 bottle of wine.
Readers, enjoy your day.
