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Josh Likes Paris

I've unapologetically become my parents when it comes to travelling, which primarily means that I like to arrive at airports hours and hours before I realistically need to. Combine that with what Erin and I decided to drink the night prior, which was all of Cava, fresh hop beer, and bourbon. Why?! But the morning turned out fine, and we had shitty mimosas and beer at the airport to satisfy the unending ghosts of the night prior. The short layover in Montreal slowly eased us into our French-speaking modes, followed by a decent 7-hour flight to Paris. I sheepishly told the flight attendant that I would like the chicken option for dinner, which really just means I muttered "poulet". I don't remember what in-flight movie I...

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“The Fizzyology of Lambrusco”

There's something about Lambrusco I'm not totally drawn to, despite its joyful distinctive sparkling red incarnation (or more infrequently, rosé, and even more infrequently, white). It might be because, at face value, its red form seems like a combination of competing textures, like bubble wrap made out of velvet, or carbonated lube. I once wrote an in-class essay on how Lambrusco - and other sparkling reds, really - are going to be the next ~big thing~ after Prosecco, because something something Millennials something 80s revival something something. Like Christina Aguilera sampling a-ha. Indeed, the Lambrusco cycle is apparently rotating back to the side of popularity. "Trust me. Just try it with food," is the everlasting Lambrusco (Lambruscan?) promise that I never trusted until this seminar, because there's something...

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