Is it too hard to ask?

There are those plentiful moments when all you want is one glass. It might just turn in to two or three; who knows, the sun is up; possibilities are endless. The urge, regardless, remains for just the one. A bottle seems like overkill.

I ask for the wine list. My mind’s hoping beyond hope to be at least intrigued. Not even by the entire menu, merely one or two wines, that’s how low my expectations are. I’d just like that feeling of anxiety, butterflies actually as you anticipate the wine you are about to order coming to the table and indulging in your first sip. As fate would have it, there rarely ever is. Wine lists read like they are all replicated at the same press.

If that isn’t sad enough, they’ve gone cheap, and yet a price of a glass is more than two-thirds the price you’d find it at the supermarket. Call me old-fashioned but I still prefer to be ripped off when it isn’t blatantly obvious; that is if I have to be ripped off in the first place.

The choice always seems to come down to go for the “expensive” outlier that might at least have some character, but then be so rarely ordered that you are almost guaranteed to get a bottle that was opened last week (it’s Friday): or the “crowd” pleaser that will be from a fresh bottle but simply taste vinous.

You know what; a beer seems more appealing now. Yes it tastes like the same beer you had 10 years ago, but it will probably come properly chilled, unlike most wines. I’d rather boredom than yet another disappointment. There’s only so much I should be willing to take, right?…

…I wish I’d listened to myself instead of seating here with this Chenin Blanc that tastes like lukewarm vinegary lemon…


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