It started with a question. “How does Tomoe River paper handle wine?” she asked.
Not beer? I thought to myself, as she’d written an entire book on the subject, but perhaps that meant she’d already splashed a frothy brew across pristine sheets sometime in her past. Her book was titled “Stuff Every Beer Snob Should Know,” after all.
But she asked about wine and Tomoe River paper, and I happen to have both, plus a willingness to make sacrifices for science.
For this experiment, I chose an unremarkable Merlot from a country that shall not be named. It would be a sin to waste good Bulgarian wine, and in my time here in Bulgaria, I’ve yet to encounter a bad one.
Wine in glass, I opened my Hobonichi Techo, which is filled with sweet, sweet Tomoe River paper, and applied the wine by dripping it onto the page. I apologize in advance for not having a control in the form of wine on a different paper. I’m a penster, not a scientist.
Upon application, the wine pooled on the surface of the paper in dark red blots. Dry time was very long, approximately 24 hours, but during the drying process, the color changed to a lovely dusky purple. There is some shading, but no sheen.
Closer examination reveals absolutely no feathering.
On the reverse side of the page, there is quite a bit of showthrough but zero bleedthrough. Some wrinkling is also present within the larger wine blots. The qualities that Tomoe River paper is known for appear to hold true with wine as well as ink.
Tomoe River paper truly is a marvel. Now go forth and pour yourself a glass of wine or several, and worry not about spilling your thoughts — or your wine — out on the page.