Don't worry. It wasn't exactly wine. It was a fresh tomato from the garden. The first of this late blooming year. A Celebrity, if I’m not mistaken.
Not large. Somewhere between a baseball and a softball. Unmolested by squirrel teeth outside; deep red and full of juice and flavor inside.
As flavorful as red wine. Three dimensional flavor. Tangy. Summer sweet. Lingering.
I took one bite and had to bow my head on the tablecloth to savor all that little tomato had to offer.
Now, what to call the other red fruit I’ve been eating all winter? Tomato will not do.