For better or worse, I’ve always been a white wine drinker. It’s what my mom keeps in the house — Kendall-Jackson chardonnay, to be specific — and taste, like behavior, is often learned. I’m a firm believer that wine drunk is the best drunk and that even a single glass of wine has the ability to ease the tension after a particularly long day (or week or month). I have happy memories built on pinot grigio and chardonnay and riesling.
But whenever I’ve tried to enjoy a glass of red wine, I can’t get past the thick warmth of its room temperature or the fact that it tastes the way nail polish remover smells. My association with red wine is a particularly rough experience with Franzia in college. And yet, there’s something about red wine that’s more romantic. It reminds me of curling up with a good book in the winter. It seems like the wine to prefer if you’re a brunette. So what gives? READ MORE…