It’s funny, but I grew up using the word “zori” to refer to the footwear commonly known by many as the flip-flop. It was my father who taught me the word zori and used it himself. Although he was a Tennessee boy from a dairy farm, he had joined the service and been stationed overseas. In fact, my older sister was born in Japan – which is where I think he learned about zoris.
It wasn’t until we were living in California and I was a teenager that I heard the term flip-flop. But that term made perfect sense to me immediately. After all, that is the sound they make when you walk in them. To use a fancy word, it’s an onomatopoeia — “the naming of a thing or action by a vocal imitation of the sound associated with it” according to the Merriam Webster Dictionary.
Well, it’s summer and zori/flip-flop season in my neck of the woods, so I grabbed a bottle of Flip Flop to boot. lol
Winemaker: Flip Flop
Notes: In the bouquet I caught faint whiffs of berries, earth and wood. It was medium-bodied with rather high acidity and light tannins (although the tannins were more aggressive before oxidation). On the palate of this dark, dark ruby Merlot I tasted cherry, chlorophyll, and a hint of spice. It was a very uncomplicated glass of inexpensive red wine which seems to fit the “Flip Flop” world it’s name suggests.