I’ll Drink The Wine, We’ll Eat The Chocolate.

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The excellent Stormhoek campaign conceived by Hugh Macleod has released a term into the world that has now taken on a new significance to us all. It should do and Hugh explains it best here and here.

But before you go wild and start throwing your empty Stormhoek wine bottle corks at me, I have to tell you that you are reading the words of the ultimate ’social object’ - me. Yes, je suis est la grande ‘object sociale’. Why and how can I so modestly claim this? Well you better read on to find out hadn’t you.

Years ago when I was a lot younger I was threatened with excommunication by my father if I did not agree with his most excellent idea to date for me to join the church choir and learn to screech/sing. But far from being miffed and moaning about my soon to be restricted lifestyle, it dawned on me that I had in fact just been handed an opportunity called freedom with a capital F and it was to be grabbed with both hands lest the chance that dad’s foolishness would never occur again.

So like all clever young kids, especially me, I rebelled most appropriately and sufficiently enough to cause dad to go get his slipper. Yeah, I knew even then that there was no gain without some pain. But there was no pain. Just the confrontation I was manipulating to make dad feel his threat of discomfort (he aways pulled the downswing anyway!), had sunk in, and that his spoiled good for nothing obstrepulous son would, after sulking, threats to run away, skin the family cat, stomp on the budgie and pouting so hard it hurt, go to church and learn to sing hymns. Properrrly. Choir practice occured at night.

Understand that here I was, a tender and sensitive responsible young soul, being forced by my father to go out on a schoolnight to have fun with a group of classmates interrupted only for a while by some singing practice. Oh gee shucks you should have seen the Oscar-winning performance every Thursday evening as I tried so hard to summon up the enthusiasm to go out to sing for my supper and dad’s everlasting happiness that he got one up on me! Hee hee!

It was the best of times for me. After practice we got on our bikes and sauntered back home or rushed off to go visit a friend and cause a bit of harmless schoolboy havoc. The warm evenings riding my bike toward the deep red sunsets are forever etched into my memory. It was during this time that I first tasted wine. Communion wine. Padre left a cupboard door open. Shucks. We all had to have a sip of the sweet red wine.

So when I read the technobilge below, I always immediately think of my days as a choirboy.

Remember this from April 2006? What does this mean?:

Deep, opulent orange hue. A nose of caramel, pastry, spiced oranges and apples. There is certainly some botrytis here, both colour and nose confirming this. The palate has quite a savoury structure to it, with firm acidity cutting through the mouthfeel. But there is plenty of flavour too, of burnt toast, stewed apples, caramel and honey. Takes on a greater sweet intensity with time in the glass, and has a good length. More reminiscent of Tokaji than anything else. Just scrapes very good

I’d sooner be munching chocolate.