Vini, Vidi, Vici

A couple of weeks ago, when I was recovering from one of my many winter illnesses, Scott went out with my credit card, as it happens, to buy me some wine. (Note: Yes I was sick, but I decided that I'd take a little booze over Advil - especially since the Advil was doing fuck all.) Anyway, he came back from the store with a few bottles, some of which I recognized, and one which was all new.

Something told me to look carefully at the new label. I don't know if I had a psychic moment (if yes, I should really try and work those for significant things) or if I am just drawn to what's novel, but I was intrigued enough to check the bill. Note: I never check the bill. At any rate, I was vaguely horrified to discover S had spent $53.00 on the bottle - a 2004 Brunello. I mean, I don't even drink Sangioveses??!

An argument ensued, if you're interested. My position: It behooves the wine purchaser to pay a modicum of attention to the Visa slip, especially when said slip does not belong to him. Scott's position: The person who quibbles when someone goes out to buy her some wine is a whiny bitch, regardless of how excessive the cost.

There wasn't much middle ground.

As the week went on I deliberated returning it. The weather was awful. The receipt went missing. Come the next weekend, it was still sitting in the wine rack. I began to consider the possibility that I might keep it.

How I debated this crazy bottle of wine! I'm the kind of (gourmand spendy) woman who will shell out $200.00 on a meal with nary a second thought. When in NYC, I spent an absurd 30 bucks on a single glass. What was it about this bottle?? I wondered if I should save it for a special occasion and - if so - which one. I had a small anxiety attack at the thought that my housekeeper might knock it over in some kind of freak cleaning accident. (Note: The hilarious bourgeoisie that underpins this sentence does not escape me.)

What I realized, eventually, is that this wine had become a metaphor. It was the symbol of unanticipated luxury. I live well, but not excessively - except when it comes to food, and this vintage (from a temperate luxurious land, no less) kind of blew my circuits. Here I was gripped by an indulgence I had not chosen, but which I would pay for nonetheless. And so, I had to decide.

Would I return it? Or would I keep it and drink it - enjoying it on its own terms, "special occasion" be damned?

I assume you know me well enough by now.

I uncorked it on a Saturday morning and happily managed to appreciate it through its many stages of bloom.

If only, at that point, I'd owned this:


I discovered the Vinturi aerator (which costs more than $53.00, in case you're wondering) while visiting my parents. The impact is impressive. I could have enjoyed the first (whispering, thin) glass of the Brunello as much as the final one. After all, you only judge a first taste once.

Has anyone reading tried this gadget? What do you think? If no, do you use something similar perhaps?