Balsamic vs Wine

So here I goes. It is 3:11 am and I really can’t wait for my day to begin. I thought I was going to sleep well, and then I started dreaming. Now how dreams work for me sometimes is like this: I get all my ideas in my dreams then in a very contradicting manner they keep me awake. So my dreams are about the market or sell day that I will have at my house in this coming holiday selling some of my vintage clothes. Accessories, belts and everything in between. So now I need to start planning. I just want to keep it low key and fun with soup, sherry, French music and great vintage finds.



Ok but all in all here is my first Europe story. We met a very special guy on the holiday trip with the evocative name being ‘Frank’ from Australia. Now in my experience of knowing ‘Franks’ they have all been quit eccentric and loving life type of ‘franks’. This Frank in particular.


Frank found his love for wine during our trips through Europe. So much so that he had become the best wine connoisseur that I have seen, not just sticking to tasting. ‘Why would you spit out perfectly good wine’, would be his argument. I had to agree.


But this one particular evening in Paris, Frank mistook the Italian balsamic vinegar for a nice aged red wine. His glass being half full... we all laughing having great conversation and the spirits are high... next thing: One gulp... two gulps... SILENT. One scream: ‘F*#@, BLOODY HELL’. Frank drank the whole glass of balsamic. It was such a moment to experience later he told us that (to quote frank): “after that glass of balsamic vinegar my backside has never been the same”.


I thought it well to give him a bottle of fig Balsamic vinegar from Italy after the trip.


Some ideas for my house market.