Roofie Riesling?

Over the Jewish New Year, I had a wonderful meal with a wine writer, who brought a Riesling to dinner. Now, I’ll confess–I’m sort of an idiot when it comes to wine. I know that I often prefer red to white but cannot truly detect a difference between cheap and expensive wines. I’m kind of like Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation. When on a date, she said to server, “I am going to be direct and honest with you. I would like a glass of red wine, and I’ll take the cheapest one you have because I can’t tell the difference.”  I actually whooped when I heard this because it perfectly articulates my view on wine. I like drinking it but I wasn’t raised on “good” wine — after Saturday morning services at synagogue my mother would break out the Manischewitz Cream Malaga, drink a thimble’s serving of it and then a few minutes later would say, “Oh, that went straight to my stomach,”  as she clutched her midsection. Yeah, so that’s my early experience with alcohol. I wasn’t exactly reared to be a discerning drinker.

Getting back to the Riesling– while it was quite a lovely wine, I can’t be sure exactly how good it was because of my handicap. But what struck me more than the taste was the packaging. It seems that in an effort to youth it up, the manufacturers settled on this saucy packaging (to the left): clothing and heels strewn in a bedroom. Obviously, as the marketing would indicate, drinking it will lead to sex, to “lights out” as it were.

But what if you like the lights on?

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