Madame de Pompadour wasn’t talking about ZAP, the annual (and infamous) Zinfandel Advocate and Producers festival, when she said “Après nous, le Déluge,” but no other citation summons the decadence and existential ache that defines the experience. Though de Pompadour was making a splash with the crimson humor, I cannot help transubstantiating wine and blood, […]
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