A refined pour from the Oy Vey cellar, this Concord classic features bold notes of frustration, a lingering finish of self-doubt, and just a hint of “why do I even play this game?” Best paired with triple bogeys, sunburn, cart-path-only days, and that one friend who insists on giving swing advice no one asked for. With aromas of nostalgia, neurosis, and your bubbe’s Shabbat table, this is the unofficial house wine of emotionally unstable golfers everywhere. L’chaim to the back nine—sip responsibly, kvetch liberally.