Quote:
Originally Posted by Burnin' oil
I remember back when I was a kid . . .
Our greenie portagee dairyman neighbors made their own wine. The kids were barefoot year-around, slopping through cow manure all the time. They would dump a bunch of grapes in a kiddie pool and then stomp them with their dirty feet. Even I, a grubby, dirty little farm kid, was appalled at the lack of hygiene. The result = portagee diesel.
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Portagee.
Man, that brings back a lot of memories from the Valley.
Wine-wise? I worked as a waiter in more than one mid to very good French restaurant, one where I knew the owners family very well.
Wine, like many things, does take, as RPKESQ wrote, some education to appreciate. I was a diffident student: There is just so much to know. Odd that with some wines my palate absolutely responded. Others, the sommelier was speaking French.
Now, I like my wine like I like prefer the valve gaskets on my 356: Dry.