Dirty dusky grape skin accompanies the almost impenetrable purple. Clean sponge and pina colada scrub bring the fresh-dug vegetal right up into all your Beaujolais dreams. Dry dog food and al dente noodles and white cheddar cheese pull the sweaty stone fruit up the hill into the mouth where it’s that girl you just stop can’t stop kissing. So exotic, a forbidden fruit, way out of your league, but she’s kissing back and you slap yourself at the unbelievable delight of this thing dancing on your tongue. Lipstick staining and joyful, the black rose on granite is fairly easy to overlook against all the bulbous fruit–even far into this thing they call a finish but it’s only the beginning because then a match strikes.

I won’t be home tonight Mom.

2015 GEORGES DUBŒUF ‘Clos des Quatre Vents’ Fleurie Beaujolais France 13.5

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