It was a wedding gift. From a marriage that didn’t last even as long as its drinking window.
It’s not expensive or flashy. Simply chosen with faith in a future that would have seen it opened over a table for two, instead of one.
It was stored, moved and forgotten, long past the point where it seemed worth opening. And still it remained.
There must be some power in simply staying, even somewhere unwanted or unlooked for.
There must be some power in simply staying, even somewhere unwanted or unlooked for. Because it has persisted long enough to become the bottle that launches a journey. Not because it’s a landmark, or an altar, but because something has to be the first to go.
Because unopened things inhabit space without living in it. Because it’s too hot to pretend, and a grief ages bitterly unless it’s tasted as it matures.
So this is where Wine Crushing begins—
With one bottle, cracked open in the scorching heat of summer and my temper. Not for celebration. Nor ritual. Just to see if anything worth having made it through.
We’ve popped the cork, and we’ll be pouring Bottle Zero soon. This is the first preview of our upcoming series where we taste what it’s like to pour money down the drain. That’s right, we’re drinking our portfolio wines. Among other things.
Sincerely,
Wine Crushing