March 1, 2018

Black Box Rose

Several days in a row here in Georgia at nearly eighty degrees has me thinking about picnic weather.

Well, that and the Georgia Renaissance Festival.  It’s a fabulous thing to be forty and have friends who you can hang out with and be as silly as you want.  (Cue eye rolling from said friend’s children.  It’s okay, we’re just giving them something to talk to their therapists about later in life.)  But seriously, the last time I was there I found out I was pretty darn good a Chinese throwing stars. 

Back to picnics, I promise I’ll fill you in on the Renaissance Festival later.

I don’t get my husband to picnic with me often enough (ever, cough), he is not a fan of the out of doors.  Fair enough, he’s a professional musician.  Playing guitar outside in the heat of summer isn’t fun.

However, I like summer wines and have found out in the past that all boxed wine isn’t equal.  Some are even pretty good.

I’ve had some luck with Black Box.  The Rose is supposed to be good.  I’m already worried because I just took a breath of the nose and I got a lot of strawberry.  I don’t like strawberry in wine.  It makes me think of Deanna Carter (although I do love that song, and I did have real strawberry wine once in Buloxi, Mississippi on my way to Mardi Gras).

I take a drink and think, please don’t let it be sweet.

I can’t say it’s sweet.  It’s not really dry, either.  This wine lives somewhere in the no man’s land between the two.  I’m honestly at a loss on how to describe this one.

My educated guess would be that most ladies would like this if taken on a ladies weekend to the beach.  Unfortunately for me, I’ve had too many great rose wines to be excited about this.  It isn’t bad.  But it isn’t great, either.

Maybe that’s how my husband feels about picnics.  They aren’t bad, but they aren’t great either.  Great, for him, would be eating inside where there is air conditioning and no flies.