I drank it with Mark Fox and Don, who couldn't stop making snarky comments. They did admit to really enjoying it, ultimately, and rightly so. This bottle had been in said friend's van for a few weeks, surely not at the optimal temperature, but it was delicious.
Don said it was stabbing him in the neck; Mark Fox said it must be the broken glass. Mark Fox observed that there wasn't enough broken glass in his.
Don said it was "sharp." Mark Fox said, "That's the glass."
Mark Fox said, "I see fields, I see horses. Ritual suicide, seppuku." Don said it was "rich." I think he meant the wine, not Mark Fox's comments.
Don said, "It's good now - it's not stabbing me in the neck anymore. I think it needed to breathe more."
He was right about one thing. It's good.