At a wine tasting event for an international organisation, I had the honour of taking notes for three white and three red wines that were in the race of becoming the new company wine. In a crossover between market vendor and creative writer, I encouraged the tasters to say anything that came into their minds.
Later, it struck me how the remarks formed characters. I started to see the white wine as a woman, the red as a man. This inspired me to write this OenoPoetry for the company, in which I used as much of the original notes as possible to create a romantic and problematic scene.
She, Arneis, slutty in a girly white dress
he, Avola, surly in his red checkered shirt.
They sit. They try each other’s flavours.
She likes him, but he does not speak to her
his scent of lava rock impresses, makes her shy
of course he’s silent.
He likes her, yes, oh yes,
but she is young, too young,
too sweet like lemonade,
fruity iodized apples, strawberry lips.
His hair smells of the farm,
mixed up with car paint, new car, acetone,
and while discussing food –
cheese fondue at the farm or steak grill in the woods –
they taste some wine.
‘It’s boring bitch’s wine,’ he says,
‘Owww Ave… it’s just a slurpy kind of, like, rosé,
but with some oak bark floating ‘round in it,’
and soon, they get romantic,
velvet, smooth, ja, ja, ja, yes…
But problems will arise: manure and smoke,
unpleasant whiffs of urinals in summer,
oh, life is course, life is astringent,
with vinegary hints of acid tannins.
Sieneke de Rooij