The waltz of the Champagne bubbles

Move over Tchaikovsky, this wine writes itself

…anticipating the feeling of breaking through the surface. I waltzed lazily in 3/4 time, dancing towards the rim as the others darted past me. They chased one another racing to reach the opening of the glass. Together, we will mousse and melt on the tongue of the drinker as they sift us through their teeth like diamond beads.

Pffffff said the cork as it separated itself from the neck of the bottle. The sound of a rolling timpani drum intensified, echoing as the wine tumbled within the walls of my flute. Like a violent tide turning, it flowed forcefully, throwing itself over, being pulled under and over again — a swirling storm, a bubbling tsunami that stirred up aromas of buttered toast and honeyed almonds — a scent which lingered in the air long after I’d set down my glass.

The bubbles danced a petite allegro — the flight of the dancing bulles. Some darted one-by-one, exploding towards the surface with quick, precise movements. Others, danced an effervescent waltz; keeping time counting one, two, three — two, two, three… There was one lazy one. I watched her as she sauntered leisurely in 3/4 time, meandering her way toward the thin layer of mousse made up of the trapped translucent pearls that preceded her. For such a dramatic ascent, they dissipated without a trace upon touching the air.

I grazed her stem and lifted the glass to my eyeline. That sudden movement threw the shimmering gold liquid into a bubbling tizzy, and the timpani started to rumble again in its sinister tone.

Tilting my glass and my head back, the wine flowed from the bowl, running the length of my tongue. In my head, cymbals crashed and shattered as it passed the tip, reaching my mid-palate as the prickling mousse was agitated once more. They were delicate crisp pearls — well-structured, holding their shape as I softly sifted what felt like diamond beads through my teeth.

“Mhm, good. Thank you,” was my fine assessment as I nodded to the server. I edged my glass towards him, signalling my approval, as he topped it up and that of my partner. I lifted mine to his, and the resounding “clink” from our rims kissing vibrated and rang out like a triangle.