Friday, April 1, 2011

The Memory of a Cork

Hmmmm, this topic may become a regular on my blog.  Last month I posted about The Memory of Food.  The funny thing about memories is that anything can trip them.  Smells, colors, a piece of clothing, someone's Facebook status.

A friend posted that she couldn't find their corkscrew.  They had recently moved, and though all their belongings were unpacked, sometimes you don't realize an item is missing until you need it. 

All her friends took this status update as a call for help, so like all good friends we began to give suggestions on opening a bottle of wine without a corkscrew. 

Which took me back to my college days.  Granted, as a college student, if we had a bottle of wine it had a screw top.  That, or I walked to the apartment across from us, where the guys were brewing their own beer. (That tasted like ****; but this was college, no one was picky, especially if it was free)

Oh, did I mentioned I attended a Christian college?  Drinking was not allowed, anywhere.  On campus, off campus, under 21, over 21.  Nada. 

One night a group of us got together for a cookout.  We went to open the bottle of wine, and found our selves stumped.  There was a cork inside that bottle.  Do they come with corks?  Who got fancy and decided to upgrade from the screw top?

To make the scenario a little more humorous, the cookout was being held at a friend's place.  A house, they were renting from a couple on a mission trip for a year.  Do you think they had a corkscrew in this fully equipped kitchen?

What did we use?  Screwdriver?  Knife?  I forget what we used.  We attempted to dig out the cork, with a little success.  We enjoyed the wine, along with a little bit of cork.  Soon after that, I bought a corkscrew, it may just be the same one presently in my kitchen drawer.

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