Monthly Archives: August, 2011
… is just the kind of wine into whose welcoming alcoholic embrace you’d yearn to tumble after a day of bubblewrap and despair
… is the kind of white wine I’m very happy to shove in my face, repeatedly, perhaps even to excess. And at this price, you should shove it into yours, too.
… is one angel that takes a while to grow on you — metamorphosing from an empty disappointment to a rather pleasant gob filler
… goes straight down the Sauvignon Blanc line. Doesn’t veer off at idiosyncratic angles or bisect it haphazardly like a drunkard playing hopscotch. Oh no. It goes down that line.
In which Old Parn trots out a bit of advice on how to choose good wine in a UK supermarket
… doesn’t have that too-big-for-its-clingy-dress quality that some New World Rieslings have, thank the risen Lord
… is a happy wine. And the perfect stimulus for a collaborative essay about contemporary art
In which Old Parn outlines his own opinion as to why a love of wine is so often associated with snobbery
… is a plump, florid, indulgent kind of wine — a hint of that chardonnay roundness and chubbiness, overlaid with a sprinkling of spice and pepper
In which Old Parn takes issue with the arse-woundingly banal, turgid bunch of old silage that gets written on wine labels