Waterford: White Horses Restaurant has substance, like a fine red wine
IT’S hard not to think, for a happily unreconstructed, galvanised (double-dip) throwback like me, anyway, that the lads playing for Brazil and Chile in tonight’s World Cup clash in Belo Horizonte would be white-wine men. After all, some of them have had girlfriends called Chardonnay. There seems a lightness, a too-shiny sheen, and a puppyishness about them that might be overwhelmed by a Malbec or a Rioja. The consequences of an Amarone hardly bear thinking about. And they do seem to fall over an awful lot and rather too easily.
The converse, in my head, at least, is that the solid, 19-stone Frenchmen or Basques you’d meet around Stade Mayol or Stade Aime Giral, on one of those legendary European Cup sorties, would be red wine men. Grand Vin de Bordeaux even sounds meatier on the ear than an Alsace Pinot Blanc, no matter how wonderful or beguiling the white might be.
