Heavenly!
An ex-boyfriend of mine used to claim that there were three steps on the path to wine nirvana: rosé, white, red. He would nod at me with a wry smile as I looked exclusively at only certain pages of the wine list when we went out for dinner together, and assure me that it was only a matter of time before I found enlightenment and started drinking red wine.
It was a change that happened almost imperceptibly, until suddenly — sitting on a wooden floor at a party beside one of my best friends a few weeks ago — I looked down into my wine glass and realised that I had crossed the great divide. Yes, it’s true: after years on the white stuff, I have become a red wine drinker. From here on in, it’s out with the Chablis and in with the Rioja, Cabernet… oh, all of it.
As a teenager, drinking only alcopops and sticky dregs from mysterious bottles in raided drinks cabinets, I viewed the transition into wine drinking as a mysterious rite of passage. My personal journey on the road to wine began with a bottle of Red Zinfandel produced by a University flatmate before a party. It’s a memory that now sends shivers down my spine for a number of reasons: party aside, the ‘wine’ was sweet, it was sticky, it was pink. Waking in a state of horror the next morning, I resolved to switch immediately to white wine and never go near the rosé stuff again. And so it was for years, during which I never gave red wine a second thought, viewing it as something that didn’t really taste that nice and only ever gave me a headache. That is, until now.
But the most amusing thing about my recent transformation is the response from my closest friends. One of my best friends, who I have known since school, looked at me with a smile of knowing and delight when I confessed all. Apparently she had always suspected that I was a “red wine drinker”. Just last weekend, while lying sprawled on the sofa with a bottle of the good stuff and a wonderful friend I lived with for years, I was given a wise nod that hinted at an almost spiritual conversion. “I always knew that you were a red wine person” she said, following this statement with an extensive meditation on the types of people who drink either type of wine, coupled with the use of words such as “glowing”, “sensual” and “warming”. The final encounter — and proof, if needed, that my closest friends do indeed know me better than I know myself — happened with my current flatmate, who responded to my admission of having left white wine behind in favour of the dark side with a joyous shriek of “Oh good! It was the only thing I didn’t like about you!”
So it is with a not-so heavy heart that I leave white wine behind. Perhaps it will creep into a risotto or two, or I might revisit it while out at dinner, like an old friend that I rarely see but think of fondly, but for now, the future’s bright and the future’s red. And remember: somewhere in the world it’s already wine time!
