Between the snow, the rain, the hail and the oozing slices of deep dish pizza that fall from the sky over the course of a year, finding the right kind of day to open a chilled bottle of Key Lime wine in the Chicago area is not easy.
Tradition requires that you finish the bottle.
You can open a bottle of Key Lime wine anywhere the sun is shining on a lounge chair and you are surrounded by the kind of people who are willing to sit through Eat, Pray, Love with you. More than once. Just for the secret pleasure of its awfulness. Key Lime wine is like that.
Imagine a box of Sweet Tarts mashed into a pulp of wine grapes and left to ferment under the palm trees. Then imagine drinking it with one of the five or six people in the world you would call if you ever needed help getting rid of a body.
Some of them, of course, would be absolutely useless. Some of them would be curiously adept. And then there would be some sort of argument over exactly how to go about it and you'd all end up getting arrested, because let's face it, Elizabeth is a terrible liar. But that is not the point.
My point is, these are the people Key Lime wine was made to celebrate. Your posse. Your BFFs, your co-conspirators.
You can drink a good bottle of wine with anybody.