*This is the first installment of “Tuesday’s with Winey,” a series of candid interviews Second Bottle is conducting with prominent wines. We recently sat down with The Crusher, a California pinot noir you can pick up for $12. The transcript has been edited slightly for clarity and to remove excess profanity. The view expressed by the Crusher are not necessarily those of Second Bottle or our parent company, The Everyday Wine Guy LLC.
The Everyday Wine Guy: Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?
The Crusher: What is this, some kind of interrogation? Why don’t you tell me about yourself, a**hole. Second Bottle? Eff that noise. The only way I would ever be a second bottle is if I was also her first bottle and she couldn’t get enough, knamean? If I follow some other bottle it’s like that other bottle never existed, and I just become the first bottle. Call me back when you write a blog called “Only Bottle.”
TWG: Sir, you arranged for this interview. I just want to know how you describe yourself. Flavor, highlights, fruit, alcohol, etc.
TC: Bro. I am the Crusher. THE. CRUSHER. What else do you need to know? I crush. Pour me in your mouth. Palette? Crushed. Sh*t, I just crushed your unborn daughter’s palette. Want to know her first word? Crusher. What kind of glass should you pour me in? Trick question. No glasses. They’re already crushed. I’m like a Jewish wedding in a bottle. L’ f*cking chaim. I crush life. Flavor profile? Big, round tannins and distinct flavors. Or, if you are not some douche bag wine blogHER (where are the emails?) — the taste of a good crush. I’m like if wine came in all caps. I’m like if an elephant came through your window. Start drinking. Or swim.
TWG: Why so much oak in your aging process?
TC: This guy. Are you serious bro? That’s like asking why there are so many inches in my c**k.
TWG: Excuse me?
TC: Yeah, inches in my cork. I have a long neck. Sue me. That French oak is what drives the ladies crazy, for sure. No one has ever said “that wine has too much oak.” Or “that oak is too French.” Too French. Get a load of this dweeb.
Here’s a fun fact about Sir Crushenstein. I was named after a pro wrestler, The Crusher. The Pride of Milwaukee. His tag team partner? Dick the Bruiser. Can’t say I haven’t been told that myself a few times, ya feel me? What did Dick the Bruiser die of. Internal bleeding. Of course. If the shoe fits, bro. My namesake really fits me too. Milwaukee is known for its blue collar wrestlers and top notch wine. Crush’s kind of town.
TWG: You were #31 in Wine Enthusiast’s Top 100 best buys for 2018.
TC: Doy. F*cking. Hickey. Little known fact — the list started at 31 that year. There was no 1-30. It’s actually been a problem for ole’ Crusho. I wasn’t on this year’s list because I was totally sold out. Luckily, I’m so delicious I am still drinkable on the way out. So I am also #1 on Wine Enthusiast’s Top 100 most recycled wines of, um, INFINITY. Sh*t, there’s your second bottle. Drink me, go to the bathroom, re-serve me. The Crusher crushes on the way in and on the way out.
TWG: You retail at $12 a bottle. That’s a pretty good deal. How do you pull it off?
TC: You mean, hey Crush, how is it you are so delicious and affordable at the same time? Moi? I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else.
TWG: Um, this interview is being recorded and will shortly be put up on my website.
TC: [laughs uncontrollably for 3 minutes] Yeah so for sure no one is reading this sh*t. Maybe your mom and your next failed online relationship. Let me know when you stop getting targeted ads for gout treatment and tape worms. Let’s just say that I am able to stay so cheap because there are a couple of growers in Clarksburg who would be awfully sad if something bad happened to their happy little vineyards, smell me? Ole’ Crushy swings by every couple of years, maybe some barrels go missing, some bird nets get cut during the harvest, a day laborer or two gets a green card, and BOOM. Free pinot grapes for a little while. HEY – don’t look at me in that tone of voice. The Crushster gotta make a living, brosef. Twelve bucks is low enough that you can drink me every night and not feel guilty, but no so low that Uncle Sam starts sniffing around the old ledger. Haven’t shown a profit in years!
So, here’s another fun fact about Captain Crush. You can only buy me in cases in Westchester. No single bottles. Marketing genius. You get 12 of me, which means 4 nights of drinking if you consume me in the recommended amount, the “menage a Crush.” Plus, every fifth case we churn out has a dummy bottle in it. Sometimes the bottle is just water, sometimes vinegar, sometimes it is full to the brim with live ants. I call it the “Wild Card/Wild Crush.” Lordy, I crush myself sometimes.
TWG: You have a lot of mass-market competition at your price point. How do you differentiate?
TC: I am a pinot noir, from California. Ever been there? The Golden State. Where the f*cking magic happens. Uncle Crushapatomous thrives on early morning fog off the beach, cool evenings, and fake t*ts. Plus, show me another pinot noir from California.
TWG: There are literally tho…..
TC: Precisely. Not a single one. So, I’m a novelty. And I don’t come in a box (unless we’ve been on a few dates, amirite?). And I have this big ass masculine C on my label crushing my name, which is “The Crusher.” Top it off with some lying about my alcohol content (that sh*t is at least 17%), and you are made in the f*cking shade. Grape + terroir + clever marketing + booze + sex appeal = El Crushitan flying off the shelves.
I’m a pop and pour. The competition is just poor, pops. Any other questions? Thought not. Go back to looking like the failed abortion of Harry Potter and Cyrano de Bergerac. Expelliarmus, loser.
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