I’ve just come back from a lovely dinner, where we polished off two bottles of wine at a local Italian restaurant with dear friends and I’m tired. And for some reason, when I look at my calendar, and note the date, I’m also a little cranky. Or maybe that’s just the spite of old age settling in. But I feel like lashing out, and this is, of course, the day to do it. All over the world, for the last 23 hours, people have been celebrating the most overrated event of the wine world — the vinous equivalent to Valentines day, cooked up by the marketing forces of industry to sell more product. Crappy chocolate or goopy Gamay. Take your pick.
The Beaujolais Nouveau will never be “est arrive” in this household. I know a guy who invites everyone to his Thanksgiving dinner with the stern admonition that anyone who arrives with Beaujolais Nouveau will be turned out at the door and asked never to return. Now that’s sensible.
It’s not like there aren’t good wines made from Gamay. It’s not like there aren’t fine chocolates in the world. But c’mon people, the stuff that flows like water the third Thursday in November is hardly worth all the attention.
Today is the one day I’m glad most US consumers are oblivious to French wine.
Oh. Excuse me. You wanted the balanced view?. Read to your heart’s content. I’m off to bed.