Prosecco's Parisian Arrival

Since 2004, prosecco and I have shared a relationship unlike any other wine in my cellar. From our first meeting in that cafe in Paderno to the business I founded importing it to the US, prosecco remains my favorite wine despite its somewhat obscure position stateside. Perhaps its the challenge of finding a good bottle that I haven't tried, or maybe its simply the smile that comes from a drinkers first sip, there is just something that does it for me.

Enter Paris.

Ok, so I'm not a big Paris Hilton fan although I can't be certain of the extent of "big", I mean, shes made money and done well for herself marketing her image which is somewhat respectable in a strictly business sense. But Paris and my one true wine love together?

I had heard about the joint venture between an Austrian company and the heiress a few years back, figured it was a fad that would go away (Paris that is, not the prosecco) and I really hadn't heard much about it. Then finally while traveling through an Austrian supermarket, I saw it. The can. The ugly, bright, gold can with Prosecco splashed across the side.

My heart sank. The tension grew.

It was like finding your wife or husband with another in a cheap hotel. No worse, its like finding your wife or husband with your 4th grade math teacher and the janitor in a Motel 6.

While I couldn't get myself to buy or try it, a few tears left my eyes as I walked away. I thought of the fond memories of Asolo and Paderno del Grappa, and the cute little pop it makes when its time to see me. As I passed the snack food section, I thought of the thousands of cheap potato chips that accompanied it while wasting away evenings in the Veneto. I even thought of the little bottles at home sitting on my cellar rack and wondered what they would think as they got older.

And as I walked out the door of the supermarket, I whispered just loud enough for that bright gold can to hear.

Oh dear Prosecco, please let this just be a phase.