The last memorable time I had Chablis was a premier cru during a first date at an oyster bar. The lusher version of the wine seemed right for what I remember was slightly chilly weather, and what tensity that remained in the wine matched the nervousness of said date. To skip to the last chapter: the same day I received a text from him wanting to end things was the same day I found out I had an opportunity to move out of the city. I’ll save the gritty middle details for never, but maybe I’ll reveal them one day in that pipe dream of a book involving people I’ve dated and the wines that accompanied said adventures.
Anyway, that’s one of my Chablis stories.… read more