Thanks to all who entered the Limerick Raffle. We had some choice submissions (see below). The two names I picked from a hat from those who entered were:
Congratulations. You’re on your way to the Rhone Rangers tasting. I sent you each an e-mail about how to claim your ticket.
Thanks to the rest of you for composing limericks. For your reading pleasure, here are all the submissions. Not all exactly in true limerick form, but we’re not going to be sticklers here.
There was a Vielles Vignes red wine Syrah
who said bollocks all to phylloxera
whose high heeled friend was a brett filled Grenache
who dressed like a slutty Shiraz sans the panache
of any whole cluster haute couture Shangri-la
Roussanne is the best at it’s briniest
creamy texture and body prevent sliminess
It’s complex nose and Brassy hue
make me want to spew
an abundance of odes to it’s loveliness
I appreciate the deep red color,
how I will not look at any other.
I appreciate the floral aromas,
that Viognier can snap me out of a coma.
I appreciate the taste of sweetness,
that bit of Grenache hits my weakness.
I appreciate the big bold Syrah,
how its presence makes me cheer hurrah.
And such a treat when blended all together,
those from Rhone are so clever.
To travel there may require some sailing,
but even closer is the annual Rhone Rangers tasting.
A proper Monsieur from Mersault
Sought to redeem a loose Flo
He arranged for a Mass
For the Rhone-drinking lass
And admonished, “You mustn’t Cinsault!”
My husband is a wine critic
You’d think that he’d be tired of the acidic
Despite tasting thousands of wines
He comes home excited with recent finds
It’s a passion, and only occasionally analytic
Taste a Cotes du Rhone
lush with red grape
or a fine varietal
of Chateau neuf du Pape
Oh take me home
where the wine lovers roam
I’ll sip a Viognier
in the Rhone Valley air.
A young man loved to drink his grenache
in his wine glass you could hear it slosh
he never did spill
while continuing to swill
he did it with quite a panache
There once was a woman named Ruth
Who lived in a telephone booth
She drank St. Joe all day
And gargled Saint-Péray
But died with an ache in her tooth.
Both to the North and South of Rhone
grow grapes that are widely known.
From Mourvèdre to Syrah
Winos unite to Hurrah
for every sip melts hearts of stone
Which bite is right for Rhone AOC?
Lamb & fish both agree
If the year is OK
All want to play
If not it’s just bourgeoisie!
There once was a syrah from Gigondas
Who liked to be poured in a glass
When asked if it knew
Why it was so subdued
It replied, “Parker, you jerk, kiss my ass”
Vinsobres is the newest Rhone cru,
A name that few people knew.
It means “Sober Wine.”
How’s that for a line?
But it’s tasty and elegant, too.
Once lived a man in Cairanne
He walked with the help of a cane
A sip of good juice
Rendered him looser than loose
And one day he wandered off in the rain
A man from Japan who drank Grenache
Put Syrah in his glass for panache
But when Mourvedre he poured
He was totally floored
He cried, “This too good to dlink aRhone”