Early on, my relationship with wine was nonchalant, and at times, abusive. My bottle would often complain. "You only love me for my alcohol," he would insist. "Don't be absurd," I would refute, "I could have stayed with Jim." I felt the two of us had a true connection, so I decided to shirk my dispassionate attitude. In flitting about town on romantic outings and wine bar tastings, we strengthened our mutual affinity. I still felt anxious; haunted to the reticent wines dark and mysterious nature. I have learned wines background, explored flights, and even resorted to self help literature -- now, I lust for a deeper understanding which will require intense measures: I must dive into the world of double-blind tasting:
To place a featureless bottle of wine on the table is like a puzzle of sense and mind. By deductive reasoning, it is possible to pinpoint a wines varietal, region, ageing process, even vintage. The Court of Master Sommeliers make this look like a piece of fermented grape pie, and I am like the fat kid who only gets a slice after losing 100 pounds.
Much like blind Matt Murdock's transformation to heightened-sensitivity Daredevil, I shall become VinoVixen: able to decode a glass of fermented grape juice -- double-blind!
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