Imagine sitting with your best pal after a long arduous week, and your friend pours you a glass of vino with absolutely breathtaking colors. Your body's taste hole is salivating and - finally - you take your first sip of wine in nearly 4 hours. The wine is perfect. Balanced yet tipsy. Smooth but just a little rough. Grapes- but also not too grapey. Just a little hint of cinnamon. It's perfect. You think about the sprawling vineyard from where it must have originated. The vines and grapes spending months following the bountiful sunshine just so you can savor this moment.
Then, as you indulge in your last sip, you learn where and how it was made. Your friend, barefoot in the careless evening, explains how they and several others used their fungus filled feet to macerate the grapes. Your friend recounts how several individuals, with hygiene practices unknown to you, spent a day (probably sweaty from the work) grape-treading (aka grape-stomping) ... and lo and behold ... there you are drinking this finely fermented foot juice.
Well friends, it's ok to spit that sip out all over your friend's foot follicles and tip over the table. This is Bordeaux Whines telling you to get your flippin' formaldehyde fragranced feet out of my flippin' wine.
Bordeaux Whines 