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Zweigelts and Blau-jobs

TFW you're at work on a Saturday evening and continue with some extra writing because you're motivated during stupid hours of the night, only to be invited out to an event starting at 2:30AM on the night we jump forward for the wretched anti-event of Daylight Saving Time. The next day brought about a cornucopia of beers, jello shots, wine, wine, hot tubs, wine, vodka, and musical numbers. My level of verve is that of a flowery warm-climate Viognier lazily draped on a tongue-shaped couch, unlike Austria's zesty Zwiegelt and Blaufränkisch, both who have demanding spirits that seem like they're trying to convince you to like them. C'mon, energy! I haven't had much Zweigelt, Austria's most widely planted grape and lovechild of Blaufränkisch and Saint Laurent - the only ones that come to mind are Canada's attempts. Styles...

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My neck, my Bacchus

Most of the wine people I know got into its magical world after tasting some kind of superlative bottle that made them orgasm right into the industry. Like, we get it: you had a teaspoon of 1982 Bordeaux and wept. I literally had canned cranberry sauce with a corner store sandwich just a few weeks ago that was so good that it made me re-evaluate my life, so I guess I understand you. As much as I say that Marechal Foch is better as a drag name than it is a wine grape, and that most Canadian Cabernet Sauvignon is best used to remove dead skin off the soles of your feet, I absolutely live for the weird unorthodox shit. After waking up at...

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