I wish I could write like this:
"Ermtage du pic St. Loup. This was also easy because I love the terroir, and had pleasant memories of drinking it in a cafe in the grand square of Montpellier while watching the prettiest woman in France walk by. This wine tastes as soft and pleasant as the back of a gril's knee after she has taken a dip in the Mediterranean.."
But I can't. This is by Jim Harrison, who used to give my colleague Molly fits when she was a waitress up in the Leelanau Peninsula of Mich as a teenager, and published in the Kermit Lynch newsletter. This is a very interesting piece, and a really fun read, here: