Brick & Vine
I chose this wine because it reminded me of a douchey hipster restaurant I went to on Ventura Blvd. It had chalkboard menus lining the walls, the $16 burgers did NOT come with french fries, and I left feeling disillusioned and annoyed. For some reason, I decided to put that experience directly into my mouth. Masochism is the only way to handle a bad wine. The good news is, I was eating leftover lamb biryani when I started drinking this. At first I was excited! A spicy, lamby wine seemed ideal. Unfortunately, the purple wave pressed forward unyieldingly, and I was overwhelmed by the old-people-candy* flavors I keep blocked from my memories.
My teeth are still stained purple. I kind of want a cigarette? This yam jam nonsense is a little too much for me. Your friends will pretend to like it, but it manages to be offensively bold while maintaining a personality with zero depth.