A Quote by John Betjeman

Silver and ermine and red faces full of port wine. — © John Betjeman
Silver and ermine and red faces full of port wine.
A tender beef roast with a well-browned exterior is about as easy to pair with wine as a dish can be. You have your pick of just about any medium- to full-bodied red wine, from any place.
I have this beautiful antique silver wine decanter that I bought at an auction. I always pour wine from that.
Here is a tip for all you young people drinking wine. With pasta, drink white wine. With steak, drink red wine. And if you're vegan, you're annoying.
Pinot noir is the ultimate wine to have at the table. It's a white wine masquerading as red...[while] chardonnay is a red masquerading as a white.
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
I love that red wine is good for you. Isn't that cool? I want to hear more of this. I want to hear more things in life like, Red wine, in conjunction with a lap dance, while watching NFL football, is the best cardiovascular workout you can have.
I drink a lot of water and a lot of wine. I'm a wine drinker. Red wine, preferably.
Hmmm... cooking with wine? I usually drink wine while cooking... I do a good braised short ribs with cabernet, though. We're big red wine drinkers here. All that research showing that it's good for you takes the guilt away.
My wife and I really enjoy a glass of red wine. We're too old to drink cheap wine, and we don't.
The 'pure' red of which certain abstractionists speak does not exist. Any red is rooted in blood, glass, wine, hunters' caps and a thousand other concrete phenomena. Otherwise we would have no feeling toward red and its relations.
I wouldn't say that I'm an Italian wine connoisseur. I do like red wine. I guess my favorites now are Bordeauxes. French.
Yellow can express happiness, and then again, pain. There is flame red, blood red, and rose red; there is silver blue, sky blue, and thunder blue; every color harbors its own soul, delighting or disgusting or stimulating me.
When I was a child, we always had wine on the table, no matter how simple the meal. The wine had no special identity; it was just 'the wine,' from the cellar cask. The rules were general: white with the first course, red with the main course.
Good wine needs neither bush nor preface to make it welcome. And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.
Pure herring oil is the port wine of English cats
Happy is the man who has that in his soul which acts upon the dejected as April airs upon violet roots. Gifts from the hand are silver and gold, but the heart gives that which neither silver nor gold can buy. To be full of goodness, full of cheerfulness, full of sympathy, full of helpful hope, causes a man to carry blessings of which he is himself as unconscious as a lamp is of its own shining. Such a one moves on human life as stars move on dark seas to bewildered mariners; as the sun wheels, bringing all the seasons with him from the south.
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