palette party

It’s about this time on the plane ride home that I start fantasising about all the incredible western concoctions I could create around red wine and cheese once I return.

I’ll sit at my little tray-table here in the sky and present to you my favourite sip-bite combination. I won’t neglect  the plethora of crackers available, or the variety of dips, but they are merely a footnote in my cookbook and soon to be tv-series.

“Sip, sip, bite!” I would say.

“Savour… yes, that’s it”

The brittle cracker moistens and gives way to the pungent fragrance of the camembert or the crumbly flakes of the blue-vein. The lingering fruits of your Cabernet Merlot hold the foundations for a palette party.

By this stage, your stained red lips are ready for the next combination. So you’ll repeat, twice and once more, until the sensations are a blur, and in your head it’s like the cheese itself is tasting or even making the wine that you thirst for, and they will become one, like lovers in unholy matrimony, with a cracker temptress.

The hangover, your own brains divorce from liquid is messy, expected.

It’s better to have loved and have lost, right?

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