The PAIN truth...
I am a local Sonoma customer of wine.woot, and an occassional Labrat. When Winedave called me to pinch hit, on ratting out the Cellar #8 SauvBlanc, I eagerly offerred to step up to the plate and take a swing.
When the bottle arrived, it looked great. Simple, straight forward label, beautifully hued contents, perfect to accompany the fresh Cod waiting at home to be suateed in butter, basil, and tomatoes. I put the bottle on the corner of the back bumper of my pick-em-up truck, dropped the tailgate and told the dog to "git up".
I'm not sure which sense I reacted to first: the acid taste of panic-born bile, or the sound of glass hitting asphalt. I looked to the slowly spreading wet spot (which had excellent legs, by the way)and in a Rorschach test kind of way, immediately thought, "why that looks like a flying monkey trying to peel a wax banana."
What came out of my mouth, however, was far
less insightful, and decidely more venomous.
I can say for certain that the aroma of the Cellar #8 was fabulous. However, this only amplified the wave of pulsing guilt that began to curse through my body, as I realized that I had let down the trust and faith of the WineWoot Gods. I intinally toyed with the idea of faking it; you know, drink another sauvblanc, pretend to enjoy it, and then write in afterwards to say "That was good for me, how about you?"
But I had to be true to Winedave, Fid-just-Fid, and the rest of the labratologists. I screwed up, I blew it, and just like Eric Burdon & War, I had Spilled that wine, and had to take that pearl.
So as I swallow hard, and offer a heartfelt, yet wineless, appology to all, I can only hope that my carelessness has not resulted in permanent banishment from the winewoot labratorium.