One day last May, my son and I were discussing the news story about Harold Camping and his prediction of the end of the world on May 21st. We were talking about why it’s sometimes quite easy to convince people of something. During the discussion my son said to, ‘Well, you know, Mom, you have to give people something to believe in. Then you have to keep them around so you can laugh at them.’ Perhaps he’s a bit cynical for a 15 year old, but I do appreciate his sense of humor.
Many of us are drawn to the quality of humor in people, in writing, in movies, and other arts. Yet, the arts that become the classics are humorless. I won’t say Dostoyevsky had no sense of humor, but I don’t recall laughing even once while reading The Brothers Karamazov. Likewise, I’ve never seen a tombstone that memorialized someone for his or her sense of humor. ‘Here lies Rachel. God, she was funny!’ It’s as if humor is a lesser quality, one we all enjoy and seek out, but never commemorate. Yet, how dull our daily lives would be without it.
Last night I tried a Finca Flichman Rosé called Misterio from Mendoza, Argentina. It was made from Malbec and Shiraz grapes, an even 50/50. The nose smelled fruity, the taste was raspberries with a lemon twist. The tannins anchored the wine, while the acidity kept it crisp and refreshing. It went beautifully with the roasted, wild-caught salmon made with Myers lemon olive oil and sea salt. Pink food with pink wine as they say.
A good, dry rosé on a warm summer evening can be absolutely delightful, crisp and refreshing. Yet, rosés will never be given the high numbers on wine ratings. They’re too light, simple and altogether un-ageworthy. Maybe it’s not what we remember for generations, but sometimes light and simple is what we need in our daily lives.