How not to make Rose
Poor Miss X. First she has her bag robbed and her house burgled and then when her fella took her away for a weekend to get over it, she suffered from a terrible drinks trauma. Okay, it's a different Miss X this time, but I kind of like the mystery involved in the name.
She told me this story at the weekend. And again this is true. But before I start we must explain that rose wine is NOT a blend of red and white wine. It is totally different type of wine, made using a different method and barmen and Maitre d's know this bloody well.
Act 1
Waitress to Miss X in hotel restaurant: What would you like to drink Madam?
Miss X: I'll have a glass of rose please - have you got any rose? (knowing that rose is sometimes not available in many places and that's ok)
Waitress: Um, I don't think so ... sorry.
Maitre D': [passing, overhears] Yes! Of course we have rose! I'll bring it to you.
Miss X taken by surprise, not given time to ask what type of rose it is or anything about it.
Maitre D': [returning with brimming glass of a very pale pink liquid] Here you are madam! We did indeed have rose - in the bar!
Miss X sips rose. Is suspiciously like white wine. But thinks: maybe it's Zinfandel and drinks it anyway. Orders another. Is a different colour this time. They must have more than one brand?
Finishes meal, retires to bar. Orders glass of rose.
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Barman: Sorry we've no rose.
Miss X: Oh ... I thought you did - the restaurant just got me some from here.
Barman: Oh ... did they? Hold on a minute so.
Barman (returning some minutes later with a brimming glass): Here you go!
Rose is now the colour of red wine. Miss X however is now three glasses in and doesn't care. Another round is duly ordered.
Mr X returning from jacks spots the barman topping up a glass of white wine with red and sending it over to Miss X on a tray.
Act 2
Miss X recounts this tale to me over dinner in another restaurant attached to a big busy city bar a couple of days later. As we laugh our heads off the waitress arrives at our table to take the drinks order.
THE EXACT SAME THING HAPPENS.
Almost line for line. I am there to witness it and Miss X has just told me the tale minutes earlier. There's confusion over whether the restaurant has rose or not. Then the bar seems to have it. There's the sudden appearance of a glass of very pale pink rose of no particular provenance; waitress hedges and seems unsure of its seed or breed when asked. Appearance of another glass of rose of completely different colour half an hour later. Finally there's the retiring to the bar who don't have any rose - until - ta da! yet another 'blend', totally different from the first two, is produced.
Personally I think Miss X should not drink rose any more unless she sees it being poured from the bottle. But this story is illustrative of restaurants, bars and hotels cutting corners and thinking their customers are too stupid to notice. Watering down the spirits is another one I've often heard tales of too.
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Has anything similar happened to you?
