A Fine Whine

I’m typically a pretty “glass half full” kind of guy, especially when we’re talking about glasses of wine, but I have to say that my opinion of the reds available here in Europe has diminished pretty radically in the last…say…day or so. It all started with yesterday’s trip to my local Tesco – think Target with a dash of communism – where I was helpless to resist the siren song of “California Wine Of USA.” I mean, how could I? The label has a film frame with a picture of the Hollywood sign on it for God’s sake, and I’m only human (until sitting on top of the microwave to irradiate myself into a superhero pays off, at any rate.)

Point is, yes – I bought the wine. And yes, it tasted like jet fuel fermented in a barrel full of back hair. Which honestly had me surprised, in spite of the fact that it cost three dollars and had no vintage listed anywhere on the bottle. I was under the impression that all wine in Europe is supposed to taste better – even the terrible stuff – and was a little saddened by the fact that a wine “selected by Tesco” failed to pass the test. At any rate, it was a nice little snapshot of home. Speaking of which, it’s back to LA (by way of Vancouver) tomorrow afternoon, which officially brings this installment of the blog’s l’edition internationale to a close. Luckily, we’ll always have Paris…

And Berlin and Prague.