Wild Irish Rose

My wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flower that grows.
You may search everywhere,
But none can compare
With my wild Irish Rose.

-Traditional

Returning to this blog's roots, Brian picked up a bottle of another member of the Big Five of the streetwine crowd, Richard's Wild Irish Rose. It should be noted that I had severe reservations on drinking this one after the nightmare that became An Evening of Bumwine. Brian had left the bottle in the fridge for two days, as the back label on the bottle exclaimed "SERVE COLD" in big, bold letters. We had a couple cans of liquid courage to get the nerve up to drink this swill, and after selecting a couple Star Trek glasses, we sat down for the tasting.

First of all, I would like to make it clear that this keif is as wholly unnatural coloured as Strawberry Cisco, which led me to believe this would be less like "wine" and more like a chemical laced carcinogen cocktail. After pouring two glasses the smell of this hooch filled the room with its disgusting odour. Not a good start at all. The liquid is clear and a near-flourescent red. Further inspection of the label concluded this was being passed off as "grape wine with citrus spirits" and had a abv of 17%. Throwing all caution to the wind, we tipped our glasses and drank. The sickly sweet taste of this stuff was reminscent of cough syrup. It didn't taste like grape wine at all and the flavour was obviously there to hide something much more sinister. Furthermore, while MD 20/20 "Red" actually tasted like wine, Wild Irish Rose did not even try to trick you into thinking this was actually made from fermented grapes. The "red" splashed prominently on the label is not an actual flavour or indication of this bottle's contents. I would hate to see what the "white" version of this stuff would taste like without the "red" flavouring to cover it up. This stuff literally tastes like a chemical cocktail with plenty of sugar to cover up what it is really made from. I cannot even fathom the long-term effects would be of a stint with this Irish gal, nor even what a single bottle may do to you if consumed in one sitting. Seriously, if given the choice between living under a bridge and having Irish Rosie to look forward to every night or simply hanging myself, I'd choose suicide without a second thought. This one is to be avoided unless you really are curious what it is like to get plastered wino-style.