The Brits have a word for everything. Just watch Ramsey’s kitchen nightmare to learn one of their favorites. For me one their greatest words – and I guess by default one of the greatest words of the English language – is Plonk.
Plonk is slang for cheap wine, bad wine, undrinkable wine, wine only fit for mulling or clearing the drain.
I pulled the cork on some plonk recently. There were two saving graces to this event. One, I didn’t purchase the wine – it was a homemade gift. Secondly, I had another wine downstairs that I could open. So after a large glass of Pellegrino – my tastebud detox – I had some real wine to drink.
Left with an undesirable bottle of plonk the question in front of us was obvious. Drain or mull? Despite my efforts, my wife won out and got to mull the plonk – I dislike mulled wine almost as much as I dislike plonk and our drains still run a tad slow. It’s sad to think that somebody put some time and optimism into bottling, fermenting, and gifting this “wine”. You know when you say to somebody “you really shouldn’t have”? In this case they really shouldn’t have. I don’t want to seem ungrateful but I’m not even sure that it’s the thought that counts.
Now what is self perplexing (that means I am in conundrum – I think?) is that I am still willing and excited to accept homemade wine from anybody.
At the end of one of my favorite Simpsons episodes Marge asks Homer, “I hope you learned your lesson Homer”, to which he replies, “Marge my dear, I haven’t learned a thing”. I get that.