Blog: The Chicks Uncorked
If you have read any of my previous Chicks blog entries, you’ll know that although I love wine, I’m not one of those snobs who does everything according to the experts. In fact, I bring a certain Southern Indiana I-was-drinking-beer-way-before-wine savoir faire to my vino endeavors. And that makes me proud, even if it makes wine experts around the globe cringe.
How is my love for vino redneck-ish? Let me count the ways.
First, I cannot describe wine like the sommelier wannabes who can tell you everything about a bottle’s subtle nuances, including individual fruit flavors, coffee and chocolate undertones, and if you’re lucky, the kind of fecal matter that infused the soil eons before grapes were discovered. Big deal. I can tell you that, yes, my generous pour is delicious because it tastes good. Isn’t that the bottom line anyway – do I or do I not want to take another sip (redneck nomenclature for finishing the bottle)?
But my plebian wine descriptors only begin to show my simple roots. As another example, I much prefer screw tops to corks. Sure, cork has been used forever in wine bottling and is part of its illustrious history. But I prefer screw tops for the simple reason they’re easier to open and safer. I’ve cut myself on more than one occasion trying to remove that weird metal covering that protects the cork. And who wants to fight with fancy wine openers, when there are enticing bottles you can start enjoying immediately with a quick twist of the wrist? And I’m sure they’re working on making the screw tops more climate-friendly as we speak.
The third way I show my redneck-ness is in how I hold a wine glass. Experts say you should always hold a goblet by the stem so you don’t affect the temperature of the wine. Please. If you’re feeling a little tipsy, holding a glass by the bowl is a much better way of not dropping it. Mr. Poppy likes to pretend he’s a sommelier-in-training, so we can always tell the difference between our glasses: his is spot-free, while mine has sweaty little fingerprints all over it. I must say, we’ve held our glasses up to the light on numerous occasions to tell whose is whose, so my redneck ways have contributed to a decrease in marital spats. Win, meet win.
Yet another way I show my wine inferiority is by not pairing food with wine. I know, I know, it’s a real travesty, but I prefer red wine, so why should I consume white strictly because it supposedly tastes better with fish? And who has scientifically proven this certain-wines-with-certain-foods theory? I say, drink what you like, eat what you like, and let’s just all get along.
So there you have it … for now. I may come up with more reasons I’m inferior to all the vino buffs out there, but I’m at the age when I really don’t care if a bunch of pretentious snobs can tolerate me. I say: Redneck Wine People Unite!!
Authored by Poppy … get to know more about her and her fine time with wine! Enjoy her pet-peeve musings with The Chicks, her defense of Mega Purple, her thoughts on a wine-demic, and the wine that made her an adult.