Adrian Patratanu
Google
Ah yes, Pompette, the shrine of cloudy grape juice marketed as “natural wine.” If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to pay money for something that looks (and tastes) like it was scooped straight out of a rain barrel after a storm — look no further.
Apparently, Dua Lipa once graced this place, which must mean it’s good, right? (thanks, Vlad!) Spoiler: unless you’re an international pop star immune to disappointment, prepare yourself for the vinous equivalent of kombucha left in a student dorm closet all summer.
They call it wine; I call it a liquid identity crisis — cloudy, feculent, and confused about why it exists.
Sure, if you want Instagram bragging rights and the faint chance Dua Lipa once sat on the same chair, knock yourself out. But if you came for actual wine, do yourself a favor: stop by the gas station on the way home. At least you’ll get something filtered.