A Love Letter To Red wine
Dearest, fruitiest, juiciest Red Wine,
Because it is Christmas soon, I know I will be seeing a lot of you again. I see you throughout the year regularly and of course I say hello, but over the holidays, we always see each other more. We get to know each other better; it’s tradition. Sometimes I give you as a dinner party gift, but mainly so I can share you, is that bad? But it is universally acknowledged that you do taste better when shared with a old friend.
So in the spirit of Christmas, I wanted to tell you all the reasons I adore you.
Once upon a time when I was about fifteen, wearing a fishnet top and shoes with beads on the laces, I went to the Exeter Lemongrove with a friend to a night DJ’d by Zane Lowe – a remix of “Red Red Wine” came on, and I rebelled against the Millennial stereotype and was outraged that they weren’t playing the *original* version that should be respected as the true eighties classic it is. “Red, red wine / Stay close to me.”
Stay close to me, Red wine.
I will alway choose you over White wine; always. Whenever the two options are given to me at a dinner table I will never sway, even though I know that by the end of the night you will have turned me into a vampire.
I can drink you like Ribena. I can glug you down easily, especially when Mulled, like a tasty warm children’s drink, even though after a bottle and a half, I’ve turned extremely emotional and before I know it, I’m trying to write a poem.
You go very nicely with my favourite meals – heavier meals, like carbs or a steak. In my favourite Italian restaurants, I dream of the food, but deep down all I think of is you.
I have stayed up until 2am on a week night drinking you with my older sister, getting deeper and deeper into life’s big questions. The reason I don’t want you to end, is because I don’t want the conversations to end. And luckily, a great bottle of you is not ever too far from my reach. You are well-stocked in my Hackney quarters. A Malbec is preferred.
I’m not fussy with you. Most White wines, in my eyes, taste like cheese. But you – you are always so scrummy. I’ve gone through my favourites: first it was Shiraz, then Cabernet, then Pinot Noir, it was Merlot, then Rioja and now Malbec. But I love all of you. I no longer have a type, as long as it’s red.
You give me the dreaded Red Wine Teeth. In photos I look like a beetroot monster. But RWT helps me decipher my true friends. The ones that don’t mind if I have grey teeth and a red chin by midnight.
I will always love you, I will always drink you,
Your Red Wine Teethed Girl,
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