So as I referred to in my previous post, the other half has been away, all the way back home to NZ. Unsurprisingly that means that when the Cats away, the mice will drink all the wine, in some way to make up for the other person not being there, but also as some form of desperate escapism of the loneliness/quietness of being in the house by yourself, and to fill up time while slowly but surely drinking way too much while listening to too much radiohead…
Picture this, a meal, too delicious to be enjoyed by itself, the standard orange chicken and roasted sweet potato that is pretty much my favourite comfort meal, and as I wandered around Sainsburys picking up my bits and pieces, in a nod towards the otherhalf being in NZ, I picked up one of NZ’s early iconic labels – Cloudy Bay (but a chard, because oh my god I can’t STAND NZ Sauvignon…)
It’s the opposite of the Chablis I was craving a the weekend – again big, ballsy and buttery, probably a bit much if I’m being honest with the chicken – I should have gone with something a little gentler. So I was slowly having a few sips, and then a few more sips, and then holy crap the entire bottle was gone.
Rather than thinking (like I should have) ‘Stop – 1 bottle is well enough – remember what happened last time you finished a bottle of wine by yourself? YOU FELT AWFUL THE NEXT DAY’, I decided to start on another.
This red was the one I randomly picked up the other day (have I really spent nearly £80 on wine in 4 days? yes 😦 ) the crazy sounding one from Sicily, grown on the sides of Mt Etna, in a clear bottle – but RED I tell you.
I think it was one of those completely impulsive, sense of adventure moments, you know those ‘seemed like a good idea at the time’ moments. Those times when you make a recognised decision but then regret it forever after (cause seriously, I didn’t really need a hangover in my slightly fragile state).
Pop goes the top, and before I knew it – I was on my second glass.
It’s weird, in my slightly hazy memory I swear that I could taste the wine came from a volcano. Maybe I was being overly sensitive to sulphur, or looking for it (I have a tendency to look for flavours in wine rather than letting them come to me as they should. I should really get one of those aroma kit things to help solidify my smell memory as I always get the damn things wrong, unless it’s pear and I have Jelly Belly’s to thank for that. Pity buttered popcorn or watermelon isn’t something that pops up in wine too often) but holy hell this wine was a fantastic surprise. While I was supposed to save some of it for the other half, I somehow managed my way through a significant portion of it. More than a little bit glorious, it’s light but complex, a little bit of acidity, but I kinda don’t really remember more than that.
So what then? For some CRAZY reason – while I managed to drink more than I had in a very long time, I didn’t have a hangover the next day.
By all accounts I should have been totally punished! I should have woken up sick! A near migraine in pain intensity! I shouldn’t have been able to get up, shower, have a coffee and still be in at work by 9am?
So I’ve basically decided that by some grace of the god of hangovers (dionysus, he’s pretty much my spirit animal) that I was excused for some reason. Maybe pity was taken on me. Maybe I just metabolised the wine incredibly quickly. Maybe I just enjoyed it so much that my overly happy state contributed to the lack of hangover, but my god I’m definitely not tempting fate with that again.