Bull’s Blood Egri Bikaver (Keurus Winery)

A wine with twelve degrees can be likeable for people who live with parents or those who under humiliating control of their wives. I don’t belong to both and better shoot me as a horse if I will under of named influences but I took such bottle because it was from Hungary (okay, I’m not a fatalist – even I’m a cynical son of bitch but I’m not the fatalist). I said to myself to have Hungarian wine when I will in this country. I rejected more than once to take a drink from there as it was in Krakow not so long before but that Sunday changed my mind because who knows when I will visit in a way I want to do it.

Speaking beforehand of everything, I’m not trusty to wines of Eastern Europe by having sniff and experience with several of that part of the world. I didn’t see nobility in looking through bottle of Bull’s Blood Egri Bikaver. I took only for acquaintance and confirmation of own thoughts on Hungarian wines.

A first scent is a rich bouquet though I did get a commoner in taking drop which poured outside of a glass. That man from whom I took it said to wait for one hour by putting it into fridge. I was intending to wait for some time because sausages were in an oven. I started to have it after food was cooked. The drink was becoming characteristic in process. It’s drinkable but nothing extraordinary in using and sniffing while aftertaste is feeling normal well. I decided to take this bottle because it wasn’t white from famous Tokaji which makes sweet wines and they for those, I believe, aforementioned in the first sentence and from there Franz-Josef, who had a cool beard, sent a bottle to Queen Victoria every month by which she made her to express “Motherfucker! He sent me that again! He thinks I’m a god fucking damn sissy! Does he want war?!” (okay, I’m not sure that a ruler of United Kingdom had such reaction and everything was all right as it was actually). It’s dry wine from Eger region and that’s, ladies and gentlemen, Bull’s Blood of Eger (Egri Bikaver in Hungarian), a country’s trademark. A blend of red grapes which in my bottle is Merlot (another reason for acquisition), Cabernet Franc, Lower Styria originated Blaufrankisch and Kadarka. Three of thirteen determined grapes should be in containment. My bottle includes a needful quantity (Blaufrankisch isn’t of them because nobody can pronounce it).

Nothing works in Italy. As usual. There are no elaboration of flights between their cities. All planes of ITA Airways (a company which 59% belongs to country’s government and it called Alitalia before.) fly through Rome Fiumicino. No doubt, there are routes which in demanding and organize movement by little planes if not many people need. Some non-Italian companies have such directions. But ITA Airways have no flights in Perugia. Now I only know, it willn’t before I get a driving license. It’s likely, I willn’t find a potential driver.

My life is grey because I hadn’t calçot. But aside of jesting (or not), I was in projects as always. Microsoft Word shouldn’t care on that I write long sentences by giving blue emphasis. I returned with no surprise to the big book in April 14. I was listening David Bowie’s Heroes who says magnificent from for a day to forever and ever. Knopka Sophie lied on me in one moment. She left after I finished once again. In the end, it came to logical conclusion. But after all, what is about me?