Just reading my notes from a wine tasting. Cause "I know what I like":
Yesterday, before a blind tasting of 40 wines, I'm sure I heard we were tasting Chardonnay. And I swear they were the best 40 Chardonnnay I had ever tasted, even if there was a small voice in my head saying, "this is weird". Then, after writing them all up and scoring each one, I found out they weren't Chardonnay at all. It was all Riesling.
(Riesling is not oaked, light and lime-citrus crisp: the opposite to Chardonnay which is usually oaky, heavier and buttery smooth.)
But I know what I like...
I like television and I like pink and I'm quite...
surprisingly clever
surprisingly clever
Which made me think, does it really matter what I tasted if I enjoyed it? Maybe it's better to stay happily delusional...
I am the Tsuji Nozomi of wine. "This (wine) is like a room full of stuffed animals and when you go in it's all pink and like the floor is covered in heart-shaped fluffy rugs."
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