This guest post was written by Sam Klingberg, the mastermind behind the Rolling Stone of Wine Blogs, Brokewino.com. He maintains a very rigorous ChapStick routine during the winter.
A watermelon should be on every flag of every state in the south. It’s ubiquitous, delicious, and a symbol of picnics, revelry — and if you ever soaked it in vodka overnight in the fridge — textbook bacchanalia (except with grain liquor, minor technicality.)
I sort of grew up in the south, and almost anytime a watermelon showed up at a picnic, all of us kids were challenging each other to atavistic contests almost immediately. It didn’t even matter if you even knew the other family or not, the lust for watermelon and pure red-blooded American competition was the common denominator.
If you’re unfamiliar, a seed spitting contest is a ridiculous scene where you excavate the biggest seed you can find in your watermelon slice. Then, upon mustering all the pressure your yet un-developed lungs contain, you hurl your body toward a pre-determined line where the seed is then spat from your mouth, freed into the sticky humidity. The owner of the longest sojourning seed proceeds to re-inform everyone of his or her sexual orientation (such is 20th century childhood barbarism.)
Wine is sort of like a vodka infused watermelon.
It’s juicy, delicious, and can often lead to long arguments about why all your friend’s opinions suck. It also creates amazing memories. I’ve always found it intriguing that alcohol, and wine especially, is historically intertwined with our social interactions: celebrations, feasts, therapy. Wine is sometimes not only about how impressive the label is, what the wine tasted like, but also the meaning of the moment.
I was hanging out with Alex and Jack from Wines.com and several wino friends here in Chicago about a month ago. We opened a few bottles at a wine bar on Michigan Avenue, one of which was a 2005 Rijckaert Macon-Lugny Terroir de Bissy. After catching whiff of the gorgeous aroma, I looked up to see eyes peering over their buried noses also craning to see everyone else’s reaction to the nutmeg and honeyed minerality that was owning the olfactory membranes around the table. I can almost taste the viscous Chardonnay mouthfeel with wet stone and just a touch of lingering citrus and spice now.
It really wasn’t even that costly of a bottle, this year I’ve had far more expensive and difficult to find wines. But something about the wine, the people, the location, and the night’s events combined to make that wine a flagship; something so much more than the sum of four or five ounces of fermented liquid swishing around crystal glassware.
I’m sure you get what I mean.
Wine is a beverage, and it’s an experience.
So to celebrate this last #WineWednesday of 2010 we’d love to hear your most memorable wine experience of the year. Please drop a comment and let us know.