Word: wineing
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...spending it with someone I’m dating. Especially in college—where my blockmates and I struggle to take any time out from classes, jobs, and extracurriculars—having a night dedicated to chocolate-eating, boy band crooning, and dining hall glasses full of red wine sounds just as good, if not better, than a hot date at Upstairs on the Square...
FRIDAY People are spending way too much time choosing classes and not enough time throwing parties because everything was too crowded this weekend. In the Adams Art Space, the artsy crowd sipped wine out of Solo cups while checking out student-made paintings and documentaries. If you enjoy getting mysterious red liquid spilled on you from a plastic bat, the rugby party in Eliot was the place to be, where ballerinas cavorted with jocks to ’90s pop hits. It felt kind of like the party that FM was never invited to in high school. In Cabot...
...there's cognac. The emphasis is on the latter at Domaine du Grollet, the family estate of cognac maker Rémy Martin outside Cognac in southwestern France. In one of its aging cellars, rows of tierçons (ancient oak barrels) hold eaux-de-vie (twice-distilled white wine that acquires its amber color from the barrel) for the 40-100 years it takes to attain the opulent qualities of its premium cognac, Louis XIII de Rémy Martin, which retails for around $1,400 a bottle. To be labeled a cognac, as opposed to a mere brandy...
...whatever you like with my things. But you mustn't break these porcelain treasures. They are old and valuable and cannot be replaced,'' I said rather breathlessly. ''Shut up! Shut up!'' A chorus drowned out my voice. I picked up one of the remaining wine cups and said, ''This is nearly 300 years old. You seem to value the cameras, watches and binoculars, but better cameras, better watches and more powerful binoculars are made every year. No one in this world can make another wine cup like this one again. This is a part of our cultural heritage. Every Chinese...
...remaining wine cups in the box and went upstairs to inspect the damage. My heart sank. On the third floor landing were fragments of porcelain in colors of oxblood, imperial yellow, celadon green and blue-and-white. The third-floor rooms resembled a scene after an earthquake. The Red Guards had emptied my storage cupboard. Flour, sugar and food lay on top of heaps of clothing they had taken out of cupboards. They had already dealt with my fur coats and evening dresses with scissors. The ceiling fan was whirling. Bits of fur, silk and torn tissue paper were flying...