So many times I've written a post that some have termed "insightful!", "penetrating!", "brilliant!", "hilarious!" and even "touching! I wept!" -- and yet how many of them have you read?
As a public service to you, the many fans I've picked up in the past few months, I feel duty-bound to help you to catch up with the good things you probably missed the first time around. I would call this the "Best of Mondosapore" but I'm an innately modest and shy chap, and I detest people who toot their own horn. Besides, the code of the aristòs kind of frowns on that sort of thing. It just isn't done.
I tell you, it hasn't been easy selecting which of the nearly 1000 posts should appear in this cavalcade of wine-blogging quality. Lucky for you, I've personally chosen 10 of the best, the very best. They plumb the depths of the human heart, bask in the light of frivolity and foolish joy, reveal the complex exposition of your author's interior terroir; for, I won't lie to you, I've poured my heart and soul into this blog over the past 3 years.
No, no, I'll never win any awards -- I won't be slathered with the hypocritical butter of insincere praise by my peers -- no, no, I'll carry on, feasting on the plain loaf of your visits and page views -- for you. For you, my good and faithful readers. For you.
Continue...
"It was my 60th year to heaven..."
I'm
no great fan of Dylan Thomas, whose famous opening line I have
purloined and paraphrased for my own self-dramatizing ends--hey, it's a
Celtic thing--but I am a fan of Cavallotto Barolo. Alfio and family, you will be pleased and indeed honored to know that I drank a bottle of your Bricco Boschis 1999 Barolo to usher in my 60th year to heaven. Veramente cosa di "liquirizia e violette," piu'
liquirizia che fiore. Truly a thing of "liquorice and violets," to
quote a recent novel about the Barolo producing area, but more
liquorice than flower.
Today, 12 April AD 2006, is my actual birthday--strictly speaking at 8 PM Eastern Time. And, being a proleptic sort of Celt, I drank the wine last evening because by 8 PM tonight, my actual birthday and hour, I will be flying to Istanbul.
Cheers, everybody. See you on the 24th of April.
In the photo: Your author and his mater, 1947
At the Mall*, Newburyport, Massachusetts
*Pronounced 'mal' like 'pal'.
(Published April 12, 2006)
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