Wine is delicious. And what do I like doing with delicious things? Putting them in my goddamn mouth. Because in my mouth there is my tongue (call me, ladeez). If it weren’t attached to my body the tongue would look like some sort of extremely rare, cave dwelling amphibian. The type ecologists use as a reason to stall major infrastructure projects. The locals doubly resent it because not only do they not get jobs but the animal is just so goddamn ugly. They’re like “Oh, come on, let’s just build the dam and let that writhing sightless monstrosity die”.
But when the taste worm is attached to my mouth – boy! – it makes my brain feel nice. A couple of weeks back I decided to hijack this evolutionary quirk when I went on a winery tour of the Yarra Valley and tried to visit every single winery in one day.
It was awesome.
On a sidenote, the tongue is also kind of an asshole. When you rub it in fat, or sugar, or salt, or alcohol, or pretty much any food that is easy to get hold of in the Anthropocene (look it up here – it is a great word), and it makes your brain feel particularly nice.