A Chablis (a white wine from Burgundy) grown from Vielles Vines (old vines) courtesy of Closerie des Alisiers.
A pint of Pliny the Elder this evening.
Hard to go wrong with 1ère cru Chablis!A white wine from Burgundy, Chablis 1er Cru.
Hard to go wrong with 1ère cru Chablis!
An old diary entry;
A bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape and 2 episodes of The Sopranos; Saturday night? Sorted!
Well that’s been known to happen chez moi aussi...Somehow, - full understanding escapes me - but my bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé is empty.
Now, I am greeting a single, solitary glass - (I lie, mendaciously, it may be that two glasses are filled and consumed) of Dow's 1985 Vintage Port.
Well that’s been known to happen chez moi aussi...
And Dow’s ‘85 eh? How do you like it? I’m still sitting on my ‘77.......
Hehe, I understand entirely. Surely there are ghosts about who revel in refilling one’s goblet when the eye is distracted.It is entirely possible that a third glass may have poured itself - all unknown to me - spontaneously......into the Waterford crystal glass (Lismore pattern).
Er, superb, elegant......smooth....exquisite...ah, gorgeous.
Suffice to say, one would happily drown in such a sublime beverage...
(And, er, it was not opened tonight; it has been a source of surreptitious temptation - every so often - in recent weeks, a surreptitious glass or two...here and there...)
Hehe, I understand entirely. Surely there are ghosts about who revel in refilling one’s goblet when the eye is distracted.
Well I think the ‘77 is due to be cracked. Some big changes afoot around these parts, and the time to share widely (a requirement for such a bottle, in my eyes) may be nigh.
And quite right too. “You can’t take it with you” after all.Ah, yes.
This, I understand entirely...
Do enjoy..
The 1985 - well, one cannot live forever, and there comes those (er, dark and doleful) nights when one thinks - why should this not be consumed now, instead, of er, left to palates that might - ah - lack a full appreciation of such nectar?
Anyway, I stared at it some weeks ago, having found it, tripped over it - complete with suitably dusty shoulders - in a crate, and went, mmmmmm...
Does one postpone the tasting of nectar until the afterlife?
That question is rhetorical.
No.
So, in advance of - well, some sort of terminal existence - I thought, why not greet some of the nectar in my cellars?
And quite right too. “You can’t take it with you” after all.