While most kids in high school were trying to get someone to buy them beer, I was that weird kid drinking wine.
The wine I was drinking was about the same level of quality as their beer, but I didn’t care. I was drinking real wine. From Italy. It was imported. And it was advertised on the radio. In the Buffalo area, where I grew up the ads were voiced by Danny Neaverth a long-time Buffalo radio god.
Canei?* Yes, You Can!
*(pronounced like Can I)
Oh it was Klassy! It even had a screw top making it super convenient for the teenaged Gretchen.
I drank this wine as I moved into my college years (where it was actually not entirely too awful with the Thai food we ordered from Tipsuda (sadly, long gone!)
Why mention this?
Well, yesterday, while on a quest for a new hydrometer (people keep breaking them which I find annoying) and the liquor store that I visited to replace the broken equipment, there it was. A bottle of Canei. I haven’t seen a bottle of it in years. It was calling me. Like a siren’s song.
So we bought a bottle and brought it home and poured it while eating a Giordano’s Pizza (another 1985 pairing).
And like the siren’s song, the Canei dashed me on the rocks.
OMG. It sucked. SUCKED.
What was teenaged me thinking? I don’t know. I was 19. I didn’t know any better and it was my introduction to buying wine.
Clearly, my taste buds have moved on. And we ditched the Canei and opened a dry rosé instead.
So Canei go home again? No, I can’t.
And I am guessing that the Ruinite and ice won’t be nice.