Revenge of the Sauvignon Swashbuckler
Set sail for terror... and also wine.
He’s been after us for seven fortnights now. We have no one to blame but ourselves, of course. We dined with Cap’n Clif, the Sauvignon Swashbuckler. We’d hoped to hear from him of fine new islands ripe with wonderful new grapes, but our hubris got the better of us. In our haste to impress him, we forgot his reputation. Cap’n Clif burned and thieved for wine, not riches. And no great wine was truly safe from his hooked hand or his Jolly Rodger themed sippy cup.
We began things well enough, with our Climber Red blend, but even that was a risk. Clif is known for his love of Sauvignon, and one of the five varietals in the blends was indeed that very Cabernet. Perhaps he realized, for there was a glimmer in his eye when he took his first sip. But he hid it well.
“’Tis a fine brew. I detect a blend, beneath ye cherries and blackberries. But your blasted Zinfandel beguiles me palette; I cannae place the blend.” He tipped his massive hat, adorned as it was with grapes and corks about the brim. We began to feel confident, and our brave captain became bolder, pressuring the Wine Pirate for tales of new lands and grapes. Tales which he happily shared, probably because he didn’t believe we’d live long enough to benefit from it. It was then we made our mistake, serving him our Sauvignon Blanc in a fit of bravado and camaraderie.
His eyes lit up as his nose inhaled the first faint whiff of honeydew. Once his tongue took in the crisply acidic aftertaste, and the hint of citrus, he loosed his scimitar and ordered his men to sac our cellars. We fought bravely, but our blood spilled along with our cheap Pinots. He drank both with a reckless savoy faire and the look of an impossibly debonair savage. Seven of us died to toss him overboard, but we have no doubt that he was picked up shortly after by his mighty galleon The Port Buster which now pursues us day and night. He will catch us, and he will kill us.
I only hope we can finish the wine before he does.