This Easter weekend had more in store than I could imagine. There was a sale in conjunction with the Parish thrift shop at the morning egg hunt to raise money for a new altar. Among the items for sale, a (very) old and dusty odd dark green wine bottle. Worth investigating at $5, whether vinegar or not. I bought it promptly and inquired if they knew anything about the bottle. Apparently a parishoner’s wife donated it after he passed not so long ago. He was a wine collector of sorts, but his wife knew very little. And while most of his collection was scooped up by wine-loving friends or auctioned to pay estate and funeral costs, this one was found hidden on its own later in the house and not in any shape she thought would fetch much money, let alone interest. So she donated it to the church sale.
I put it in the car, with the windows open so as not to overheat my mystery bottle, and finished the Easter celebrations with my family.
I peeled off the unusual thick black wax seal closure, uncorked it and poured some out into a glass. It was very deep in color. But on the nose, vinegar. On the palate, also vinegar. Any perceived value now lost, I thought at the very least it would make for an interesting salad dressing for this evening’s dinner. As we sat around the table that night enjoying my exotic vinagrette and inspecting the mysterious bottle, more and more of the dust started to come loose. In order to control large amounts of dust getting on the dinner table I used a washcloth with some hot water to clean it off as best I could. It was then that I noticed the three lines of inscriptions on the glass. In my shock, I dropped what was left of the bottle on the floor, only to watch it smash beneath me and spill the precious contents. It read: