A Diatribe about Champagne

Quite possibly this is the most uppity thing I will ever post about but it bothers me. Truly, it does.

During the brunch that this blog was conceived at there was a table next to us. It was full of obviously well off upper 20 somethings who seemed impeccably dressed, if all you care about is labels, and picking daintily at their food.  We were in River North so I expected the this sort of people.  I noticed they had mimosas so I got jealous as I was under the impression that this was sadly a boozeless place. It apparently was BYOB but my anger reached a peak when I realized what champagne they were using.

Veuve clicquot.

My friends, I am a champagne drinker and that is not a cheap bottle. Like $40 at least. What in god’s green earth made you think fancy champagne was going to be enhanced by orange juice?! In the delicious mimosa equation (see highly technical diagram) the place to upgrade is clearly in the juice not in the champagne as any old bottle of Andre (~$6) will do.  Fresh squeeze oranges, import blood oranges from Portugal, at this point even gold leaf the fucking rim not waste an incredibly delicate well-balanced champagne.

To me it is a case of knowledge and class versus excess that you can afford. Just because you can buy several bottles of high-class champagne and drink it during brunch doesn’t mean you should. If you knew your ass from a hole in the ground, you would know that this isn’t a good place to spend that money. Buy your tiny little dog something diamond encrusted instead. A good place to spend money is on the accents that cost. Something like good olive oil, whole vanilla beans, the fancy not flourescent red maraschino cherries or if you’re THAT rich some truffle products.  Sigh. Money ain’t never bought class.

I had not yet mentioned any of this to Blink when they had finished that one and now brought out a bottle of Moet Chandon. I whispered my irritation and then proceeded to judge them for other things. Like how the overprocessed blonde was wearing 6 inch black leather platform heels with jeans and a sweater to brunch. You are not doing the walk of shame. Stop it. You are too old and too rich (obviously) for such tomfoolery.

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