According to Mr. Charles Telfair, off Broadway legend and three-finker..
Rating: 1/5 stars (hiccup)
[Editor’s note: This review was dictated via voicemail at 2:47 AM]
OH MY GOD, darling! giggle I have just had the most EXTRAORDINARY experience with what can only be described as liquid lunacy from something called—and I am NOT making this up—Glass Anus Winery. snort-laugh
Now, I’ve been in show business for forty-seven years, sweethearts, and I thought I’d seen EVERYTHING. But this wine—oh, this WINE!—has opened new vistas of horror that I never knew existed. It’s like someone took a perfectly innocent grape and said, “You know what this needs? SUFFERING.”
sound of glass clinking
I started with just a teensy sip, you understand, because I am a PROFESSIONAL. But something magical happened—and by magical, I mean catastrophic. This wine is so spectacularly awful that it somehow becomes… transcendent? Like watching a really terrible movie that’s so bad it wraps around to genius. Except this is WINE, people, and it’s in my MOUTH.
loud giggle fit
The nose—oh, the NOSE on this thing! It’s like someone bottled the essence of a disappointed circus clown. There are notes of… what is that… sadness? Regret? The dreams of grapes who wanted to be anything else when they grew up? And underneath it all, this delightful bouquet of what I can only describe as “wet cardboard meets existential crisis.”
hiccup
But here’s the thing, my darlings—somewhere around the third glass—YES, I had THREE GLASSES of this magnificent disaster—I began to understand its genius! This isn’t wine, it’s PERFORMANCE ART! It’s asking the eternal question: “What if wine, but WRONG?”
sound of bottle opening
The winery’s tasting notes mention “bold complexity,” and honey, they are NOT lying. This wine is so complex it needs therapy. It has more issues than a Hamptons diva on the Tuesday after Labor Day. The fruit flavors taste like berries that have been through a VERY messy divorce, and the finish—oh my GOD, the finish!—it’s like the wine is trying to escape from your mouth but can’t quite figure out how.
uncontrollable laughter
I tried to pair it with food, naturally, because I am nothing if not thorough in my suffering. Do you know what this wine does to a perfectly innocent piece of cheese? It makes it taste like it’s been to ACTING SCHOOL and failed! My crackers started questioning their life choices!
theatrical gasp
But the most amazing thing happened around glass number four—and yes, there WAS a fourth glass because I am COMMITTED to my craft—I started to appreciate the sheer audacity of this vinous catastrophe. Someone, somewhere, tasted this and thought, “Yes! This is EXACTLY what the world needs! Wine that tastes like disappointment with hints of confusion!”
singing slightly off-key “I’m gonna wash that wine right out of my hair… but it WON’T COME OUT!”
The people at Glass Anus Winery—and honestly, that NAME! It’s like they KNEW!—they’ve created something that defies the laws of nature, good taste, and probably several international treaties. This isn’t just bad wine, darlings, this is wine that has OPINIONS about being bad wine!
more giggling
I’m keeping the bottle, naturally. Not to drink—well, maybe just ONE more tiny sip for research purposes—but as a conversation piece. “Oh, that old thing? That’s my Glass Anus Pinot Noir. It’s a reminder that somewhere in this world, grapes can have nervous breakdowns too.”
sound of liquid pouring
In conclusion, my sweet angels, this wine is so magnificently, spectacularly, GORGEOUSLY terrible that I almost want to recommend it. It’s like the “Plan 9 from Outer Space” of the wine world—so bad it achieves a kind of immortality.
But don’t drink it sober, darlings. Life’s too short, and your taste buds deserve better. Save it for when you really need to remember that even grapes can have bad days.
long pause, followed by soft snoring
[Editor’s note: Mr. Telfair was found asleep on his kitchen floor the next morning, clutching the empty bottle and humming what appeared to be an original composition titled “The Ballad of the Sad Grape.” For the record, the winery is named Glass Abacuss, and this was a Pinot Grigio from 2022.]
