I am not a wine connoisseur. Obviously. Because I buy my pleasant, harmless dry red at three bottles for ten dollars. If I go shopping on one of my thrifty days I buy six bottles and pocket the 10% bulk discount. I buy my fruit and my oatmeal and most everything else I eat at the local supermarket where there is always something “special” and on sale and where people are invited to enjoy the savings on Five-Dollar-Fridays. In other words, it is a humble neighborhood where residents are thrifty, hold on to their wallets, and redeem coupons.
I know, however, that they also like a little whisky or a glass of wine. The evidence I have are the two long aisles in the store devoted to wine, beer, and spirits. This should not surprise anyone. The days of the Prohibition are long gone. What I do find surprising is that this same humble supermarket recently added a glass enclosed walk-in cabinet devoted to the storage and display of the finer wines. There also is a tasting corner, complete with bar stools, separated from the crowds by red velvet ropes suspended from brass rings. Who, I asked myself, would patronize such luxury next to potatoes, bananas, Chlorox spray, and baby food?
It seems that I have totally misjudged my neighbors. I stopped to look at some of the wines on display. The price tags were unbelievable. Nothing under $100 for the 750ml- bottle. There were dozens of wines that sold for more than that. The one that hit the jackpot was priced at $220.00. I found it pathetically humorous that the bourgeois save-on-your-groceries mentality carried over even at this price range. If you buy six bottles, the helpful sign said, the price per bottle is reduced to $200, if you can believe such a bargain.
William Hogarth, the great eighteenth century English master of satirical engravings, is known among others for the picture of a tavern displaying a sign that says Drunk for a Penny, Dead Drunk for Twopence. Were he to come back, would he ever have to recalibrate his burin!
(c) 2018 by Herbert H. Hoffman
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