You say Grassy... I say Grass Burns.

You say Accessible.. I say Easy.

You say Affordable.. I say Cheap.

I love Arabella - it's a crowd pleaser. I also love Promo Girls who stand at Tops or Ultraliquors pushing me things in yellow boob tubes and massive grins, fake tans with newly peroxided curtains of hair.

Cheers to that.

House of Krone Brut Rose 2005

With a quick glance at the 2005 vintage, I imagined 5 years of summers imprisoned inside this bodacious bottle of bubbly just waiting for the perfect spring day. With a confident and swift slice of the bottle, I would sabrage it to freedom, selectively, to my audience of gaggling gossiping twenty something Cape Town It-Girls. A sort of 'post winter picnic' on the lawns of a bijoux speciality foods deli in Tulbagh aptly named "Things I Love"

And elegant fountain of evervescence leapt forth like a released prisoner, exploding into conjugal copulation with the heady warmth of the budding season.

Lucky we shaved our legs for this one.

Flavours that frolicked with the elation of Puck and his faerie following- We are spellbound and delighted.

Make-believe powdered confectioners sugar coats our glossed pouts. On the palet there are punnets of fruit, mostly strawberries. In my minds eye they are big and fat, sexy like thick tongues. At the same time, delicate rose petals have fallen to adorn frosted and dewy morning grass. The bubbles are unassuming and present politely much the same as the first few gentle sparks of evening stars that poke through the twilight veil of a midsummers night, slowly but solidly becoming a full blown interstellar fizz.

A menagerie of flamingo, new born baby girl clothes, disco rollerskates, candy floss, fruit pastilles and turkish delight.

Its a satin prom dress worn by a knockout blonde. This is summer, for Tuna Roses topped with Japanese Mayo sprinkled with caviar. This is for wild Knysna Oysters, smell the ocean and taste the springtime. This is for Swordfish and Parma Ham skewers blackened on the braai. This is what supermodels drink when they are doing their hair.

This is just Fabulous.

Mrs Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?

If this wine were a woman, she would have a sleek Braun appliance adorned kitchen, within which she would bake you soft Banana Bread. If you were to swing by her house during the holiday season, say, Christmas time.. She would disarm you upon entry to her home. She would greet you at the door in one of those awful thick knit Mrs Clause sweaters. All to conceal a La Perla bodice hugging a burlesque landscape of curves. 

She is a heap of complex contradiction, without an ounce of fight to her character. Like the hearty weight and fruity Christmas cake of Hermitage integrated with  ethereal liquid silk quality of Pinot Noir 

She is all outward access and inward reserve.

She has warm and inviting deep set hazel eyes, heavy with intent. Like Pools of chocolate laced with coffee liqueur. Like a lonely Nigella Lawson, feeding you fruit cake in her palatial palace, perfect for fireside courtship. She makes you want to sleep in late, and be creamy milk she.. AHEM... Dips her cookies into.