Carlo Rossi

One of the most pressing and little-known problems for today's residents of Sri Lanka is that the biggest wine importer in Sri Lanka, or rather the ONLY wine importer, has inexplicably chosen Carlo Rossi wine as its sole object of trade. Which means that the only wine readily available in Sri Lanka, whether you are the Prime Minister, the UN Ambassador or a lowly NGO volunteer, is Carlo Rossi. Carlo Rossi, as I informed Joy the other day, is a California wine which you purchase only when a) you are desperate for a headsplitting hangover within two sips of your first glass, or b) you are too broke to afford wine in a box. I have always imagined Carlo Rossi as a fiendish fellow with a handlebar mustache, sneaking over Napa Valley fences at night to collect the yucky squishy brown grapes that have fallen off the vines. He mixes the grapes together in a steaming vat and then packages this poison in gallon-sized bottles to be consumed by severely insane people at ghetto parties and, apparently, everyone in Sri Lanka.


So that is why I find myself sitting here at the computer with a glass of Carlo Rossi Sauvignon Blecch, I mean Blanc, at my elbow.

I will be very glad to see my trusty Two Buck Chuck again.