Let The Man Handle This…

Rostrowine

“Yup.  Oh yes, indeed.  This is definitely wine.  It’s wine, everyone.”

Phew.  We can now proceed with the pouring of the entire bottle of wine, since I’ve given my official approval, as the man of the table.  Lord knows, only a man could possibly sign off on something that important.  We couldn’t possibly allow a woman, with all her feminine guile and intrinsic womanliness, to be the person who tastes the tiny sample of wine that the waiter pours into a cup upon opening a bottle of wine for a restaurant table.

Even if a woman clearly selected the wine and went so far as to discuss the wine selection with the server at length prior to ordering that bottle of wine, apparently, restaurant staff are instructed never to entrust the ceremonial first taste to anyone with a vagina.  Let’s move past this archaic tradition, society.  In fact, let’s just eliminate that ritual altogether.  If, somehow, the bottle of wine in question has been compromised prior to being opened, someone at the table (regardless of gender) will probably notice and alert the waitstaff.  I doubt testicles are required to detect that the newly-opened wine tastes very strongly like the liquid inside an expired can of tuna.

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Special thanks to Sir Adam Fockler for inspiration and Sir Randy Ostrowe, father of Duncan, for allowing us intimate access to a moment between a man and his beverage. Absolutely stunning.

 

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