Ode to the Riesling I Missed
In halls of medicine, first-year bright,
I met anatomy’s grueling rite—
Seven hundred fifty hours or more,
Dissecting what I could see, explore.
No wine could match that daunting strain—
Or so I thought—until the name
Of WSET crossed my path,
And lured me to its scholar’s wrath.
Cabernet lit my passion’s flame,
From Silver Oak my love first came.
Through quiet COVID’s lengthened days,
I chased the Diploma’s winding maze.
Twelve glasses stood, the D3 test,
One held a Riesling (so they guessed).
Petrol whispers—TDN’s art—
I listened, yet it missed my heart.
My DNA, it seems, denied
The note for which my peers relied.
While women’s noses, sharp and keen,
Could catch what mine had never seen.
Afterward, she smiled and said,
“The petrol sang!”—I shook my head.
Her skill, my envy, side by side,
Her Master’s dreams, my humbled pride.
Still, I passed—by single point’s grace,
Enough to keep my steady place.
And now my favorite wine, I vow,
Is any I can name somehow.
From Clare, from Eden, sunlit lands,
Where petrol greets the taster’s hands,
I raise a glass to what I missed—
And toast the Rieslings I can’t resist.
Do you want me to also make a short, witty limerick version for comic punch? That could be a fun counterpoint.
You said:
Yes. A short witty limerick would be great.
ChatGPT said:
Here’s your short, witty limerick:
A student once striving to pass,
Found Riesling a slippery glass.
Though petrol was there,
He sniffed empty air—
And still somehow squeaked in the class.
Want me to also make a cheeky wine-taster’s toast version so you can use it in real life?
You said:
Yes.
ChatGPT said:
Here’s your cheeky wine-taster’s toast:
“Here’s to the wines we can name,
And the ones that escape just the same.
May petrol or pear fill the air we all share,
And our pride stay as light as the flame.” 🍷
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