Sommelier André Hueston Mack explains how the glass used for a specific wine affects our experience. (Personally I'm content to drink any wine out of a Duralex Picardie juice glass)
I can't believe people who drink wine (or beer or liquor or whatever) really enjoy the revolting spoiled taste and the chemical-cleaning-product-ness of the alcohol in it. Just the smell is enough to make you gag.
When I was a kid I got drunk with my friends a few times but I didn't get used to it and acquire any taste for it; each time was a more horrible ridiculous ordeal until, you know, the hell with that.
The same went for the other easily available recreational drugs, whether flavor is an issue or not. I just always hated feeling any kind of fucked up. The speedy drugs are the worst. And also the sleepy ones, they're pretty bad too. And the confusing chaotic fever-dream ones that are a heart-pounding nightmare of wondering if you'll ever be okay again. Even bunnies-and-puppies weed is awful. I mean, you try all this stuff when you're in school, throw up on your own pants, lose a job, wreck a car or two, and what can be the /matter/ with people who keep deliberately seeking it out and doing it, and collecting bottles and crates and bags of it, and hanging out in bars drinking and smoking it and getting in fights and vomiting and pissing on the radio station storefront next door to the bar, all the while bellowing at the dogs they left locked in their trucks to shut up? You'd think that sooner or later a light bulb would go on over their head about it.
I see an article about alcohol paraphernalia --details of the different experience of slightly different flavors of alcohol when served in different sizes and shapes of glasses-- as a comic parody, in the same way as, not knowing squat about the card game /bridge/, I've always found newspaper bridge columns, especially the passionate ones with an exclamation mark on this or that description of a particularly brilliant rubber or ruff, and all the other made-up-sounding terms, to be hilarious, heard in the imagined voices of Scott Beach or PDQ Bach or Nichols and May or maybe Andy Kaufman. Dry, shaken not stirred, with a barely-able-to-be-kept-straight face.
There was a video series a few years back, called /My Drunk Kitchen/. It was about a young woman who cooked things while steadily drinking wine. I don't have to understand something to find it funny. It was pretty funny.
I can't believe people who drink wine (or beer or liquor or whatever) really enjoy the revolting spoiled taste and the chemical-cleaning-product-ness of the alcohol in it. Just the smell is enough to make you gag.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was a kid I got drunk with my friends a few times but I didn't get used to it and acquire any taste for it; each time was a more horrible ridiculous ordeal until, you know, the hell with that.
The same went for the other easily available recreational drugs, whether flavor is an issue or not. I just always hated feeling any kind of fucked up. The speedy drugs are the worst. And also the sleepy ones, they're pretty bad too. And the confusing chaotic fever-dream ones that are a heart-pounding nightmare of wondering if you'll ever be okay again. Even bunnies-and-puppies weed is awful. I mean, you try all this stuff when you're in school, throw up on your own pants, lose a job, wreck a car or two, and what can be the /matter/ with people who keep deliberately seeking it out and doing it, and collecting bottles and crates and bags of it, and hanging out in bars drinking and smoking it and getting in fights and vomiting and pissing on the radio station storefront next door to the bar, all the while bellowing at the dogs they left locked in their trucks to shut up? You'd think that sooner or later a light bulb would go on over their head about it.
I see an article about alcohol paraphernalia --details of the different experience of slightly different flavors of alcohol when served in different sizes and shapes of glasses-- as a comic parody, in the same way as, not knowing squat about the card game /bridge/, I've always found newspaper bridge columns, especially the passionate ones with an exclamation mark on this or that description of a particularly brilliant rubber or ruff, and all the other made-up-sounding terms, to be hilarious, heard in the imagined voices of Scott Beach or PDQ Bach or Nichols and May or maybe Andy Kaufman. Dry, shaken not stirred, with a barely-able-to-be-kept-straight face.
There was a video series a few years back, called /My Drunk Kitchen/. It was about a young woman who cooked things while steadily drinking wine. I don't have to understand something to find it funny. It was pretty funny.