Sunday, April 10, 2011
in love with the grape
But I truly do love wine. I have always wanted to be a wine connoisseur ever since the 80's when I would watch Frazier on Thursday nights right after Cheers and before Hill Street Blues. Man, that was good television. Frazier and his brother would take a sip from their expensive wine glasses and roll their eyes and talk about the vibrant presence of ripe plums with a delicate touch of spice and peach and oak flavors. What the heck does oak taste like and why would we want to know?
I admit I am intimidated by wine. Let me explain. I always order a glass of Merlot at restaurants before dinner. If I am at Appleby's the waiter merely nods and off he goes. But if I am at an upscale place with menus that are not laminated the waiter will question me further. Would I prefer a Sebastiani 2009 or South Africa Pearl 2008 or perhaps the Bennet Valley 2006? How do you say I want the cheapest without sounding cheap?
Jason has taught me the value of the dry reds as opposed to the fruity sweet wines that Dave prefers. The cowboy's choices taste like spoiled Kool-ade to me and he fills my wine rack with cranberry, cherry and dandelion varieties. Give me my robust Merlot and Chianti and Cabernet and they add mystery and sparkle to a forkful of bolognese and pasta. White wines are for your delicate maiden aunt and other such wusses.
Bring it on, oh glasses of deep and passionate Merlot, tart and flaming temptress in a bottle, smoky and luxurious and silky down my throat, but just one glass, please, just one.