May 22, 2010

“Another glass of the Coturri?” asked the waitress.

“Of course,” I said. “If it ever goes off the menu I’m going to be so sad.”

“And it will,” said the waitress. “And the next year’s vintage is going to be totally different.”

“I know, I know,” I said, already mourning the loss of this fire-seared wine. “Nothing is permanent.”

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