(David Foster Wallace said it first).
The Blanc de Blancs probably wasn’t cold enough, and when I sabered it (outdoors with only me in the blast radius, thank goodness) it popped like a .357 and sent green shrapnel in every direction. The flat strained remnants of the wine are in the margarita pitcher in the background. No more sabering without a kevlar vest, a welder’s mask, and a call to Lloyd’s of London.