From
the Shelves of a French Supermarket |
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| - Sarah Sloat | |||
Eauvain Beaujolais A round
young wine that can’t concentrate. Elastic body with an acrobatic,
almost chewable bosom. The finish evokes mink, kerosene and low satire.
Toothsome and juked up with pepper, this Beaujolais is two-thirds woodsmoke,
one-third brioche. Can easily be paired with Chopin or Satie, but does
not mix well with Dutch conductors. Youth must be served. This is
a witty sometimes hilarious wine with an afternote of two cherry trees
planted too close together. Very Mademoiselle Magazine. It holds the strong
nuance of cigars with side notes of suntan oil and figs. It is like the
neighbor down the street with the gravelly voice and smoky good looks.
You don’t see him every day but when you do then oooh baby. Thin but
delicious like rain. This straw-yellow white smells of clean laundry hung
to dry on a Paris balcony. Think walking barefoot among geese. Think tangerine,
bouquet of peat moss, nuance of re-reading Chekhov. You’d better
like wine because this costs money. There is
no fluff stuck to this knife. This wine is the Brigitte Bardot of Sauternes,
perfumed with marine minerals, nickels and anise. It has an intelligent
bloom, bedroom eyes and an oceanic finish. Goes well with cheese, carpentry
and any extended drought. Guaranteed to improve your French pronunciation. Big bells
are ringing in this. Here is a full-blooded wine, promiscuous and rich
in after-rush. Its come-hither bouquet evokes chestnuts and late September.
Its nose is true brunette, authentic and nutsy. The cinnamon finish is
long, like all the next day long.
Sarah
J. Sloat grew up in New Jersey, and after university lived in China, Kansas
and Italy. For the last 15 years, she’s lived in Germany, where
she works for a news agency. Sarah’s poetry has appeared in Diner,
Third Coast, Pedestal Magazine and DMQ Review, among other publications.
Her favorite poets include Norman Dubie, Pier Giorgio di Cicco and Vasko
Popa. |
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