I feel a bit like Tevye from Fiddler, fist in the air, singing the praise and merit of doing things the way they’ve always been done. I used to scoff at this, used to urge people to adapt and evolve, but the older and, I hope, wiser, I get, the less inclined I am to embrace change for the sake of change, much less technology for the sake of technology. I’m beginning to embrace tradition in a way I previously had not.
Zach and I went to lunch today. He ordered the rose’, and it came in the can shown above. In my world, the “pshht” noise of an aluminum can means either a tallboy of PBR or a Coke Zero has been opened. The rose’ was decent, average at best, but I couldn’t get past the fact that it came in a can. I’ve only recently gotten to the point that I can unscrew the cap on a bottle of wine without throwing up a little bit in my mouth (which, by the way, does nothing to improve the taste of the wine in the screw top bottle).
I know, I know. Aluminum doesn’t risk TCA, doesn’t rot, won’t fall apart with age. But I collect corkscrews, and prefer drinking from crystal. I live in a century-old craftsman house because I love the woodwork. I read books, real books, with pages I can dog-ear and spines I can (but would never) break. I guess when it comes to, well, life, I’m far more of a traditionalist than I once realized, and its impacting my wine drinking in that I tend to turn up my nose on occasion to what may well be some pretty decent stuff. I’ve certainly had good wine from a bottle with a screw top, but it definitely isn’t my preference.
So there you have it, my inner-Tevye in an ode to the archaic, the antiquated, and the traditional. Tell me I’m wrong? I’m sure some of you can, and by all means please make your case. I’d love to see this another way, truly. For now, however, I’m going to stick with wines that can only be opened with a corkscrew or a saber.
Happy President’s Day, (damn it, I threw up in my mouth again).