De gustibus

Quite predictably - being one and a half expats - we spent our holidays in Italy. In the country with grandma, in Torino with dad and in Sardinia with friends (yes, I know, we're horribly decadent and self-indulging...)

And since we are indeed prevident and we know exactly what's important in life, both in Sardinia and Monteu we invested some of our hard earned cash in a few bottles of good wine, whatever Albert Heijn might say. :)
We went to Sella e Mosca to hunt for Sardinian whites and reds, and we went to Rabino to stock up on Barbera, Nebbiolo and Moscato! That we then loaded on the Filarski-mobile, with full confidence that it would arrive safely up north (thank you thank you thank you to my not-officially-but-de-facto parents in law for the transport!)

Once back north, our innocent cherub heads (*ahem*) were awash with the sudden awareness of a fundamental difference in the approach to wine: namely, "there are laws and rules and anything outside them is just heresy" vs. "I will drink what I like and that's all there is to it".
We were innocently seating in the garden, chez Filarski, ready for a pleasant family dinner, when our host - my aforementioned exceedingly nice father in law - happily and defiantly opened a bottle of Moscato.
To be drunk with salad. And roasted potatoes.

For those who are not familiar with it, Rabino's moscato is quite sweet, decidedly fruity... for any purist, a perfect dessert wine.
Faced with the faint objections of my beloved - partly caused by my suddenly greenish complexion - our host answered, nonchalantly: "I like it, so I drink it".
I cannot help but confess: it is an excellent reason and I sincerely appreciate it.
But I am not going to tell my grandma anyway ;)