if you don’t know about tannins, you aren’t worth a damn…and other myths (pt. two)

I was determined to work there. The place was swank. I could smell the under-the-table cash I’d make through tips and the endless heat and comfort they’d buy me. No more turning the oven on and leaving the door open. No more drying clothes item by item and huddling by the vent. I could buy

if you don’t know about tannins, you’re not worth a damn…and other myths (pt. one)

I remember the first time I encountered wine snobbery. It was at Central Convenience, a Mom and Pop operation that functioned as the beating heart of a rural out-port where I was born and raised. It sold liquor (even on Sundays…which was strictly taboo because of the ultra religious people who made up a huge