True thing: The average person unknowingly swallows 8 James Mays in their lifetime.
Just when you thought it was safe to go to another party, there he is once again. Yes, it’s Oz Clarke, the authentic Brit and affable wine guy. He’s headed your way, and you know he’s gonna ask you about the gorgeous DuNah blends you’ve been swilling.
What will he say? Oh, dear. He's going to want to know about flavor profiles. He’ll ask about aromas. He’ll badger you about balance. He’ll probe you about the palate.
How will you respond? You’re not ready to take on TV’s Oz Clarke again. Sure, he’s likable, but intimidating nonetheless. This is a man who knows his vino.
You begin to panic. He says hello. You greet him. Then, The Question:
“What do you think of the wine?”
What can you tell this completely hypothetical and hopefully not litigious version of Mr. Clarke? Obviously, you know YOU enjoy the DuNah red blend, but how can you craft a series of sentences that sound appropriately wine-savvy?
The last time this happened, you were visited by a 6-inch high James May, who whispered all the right things into your ear for you to recite out loud. But Tiny James May is nowhere to be found this time around. You’re on your own.
“Uh, it’s … good.” Feeble.
“How’s the tannin/acid balance in that 2005 blend?”
“It’s … yeah, fine.” This is getting worse.
“And the mouthfeel?”
“Well, I guess it was kind of strong.”
“Was it? Could that be because you just DRANK MY DEAR FRIEND JAMES MAY, YOU MONSTER??”
It’s gonna be a while before you’re invited to another party, probably. But the wine was great.
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