I don’t like wine-any kind. Not red, white, Chablis, sparkling or flat. So a while back it was discovered that a group with whom I engage on a social networking site are all wine aficionados. And their messages back and forth, which pass through my screen, are often about what wine for this or that occasion, meal or location.
There are even a few sommeliers among the crowd. What is a sommalier you may ask? He’s not the average wine waiter who simply opens the bottle and pours it in that haughty way while waiting for you to pretend you know what you are doing as you take a sip and say to him “That’s fine” before he’ll set the bottle down and get lost. No the sommelier is basically a fancy dressed wine salesman. Or more aptly the wine middle man taking his cut by re-selling wine from wholesalers and vineyards. But call him that and wine will soon become whine. He develops a wine cellar for a restaurant, sources the products and then tries to sell them. He’s the guy who stalks patrons of fancy restaurants trying to get you to bottle up (as opposed to have a glass) with the most expensive products in the house.
He has an entire vocabulary about these products too. The spiel generally contains phrases like nutty, nose, hint, ambient, color, palate, soupcon and other French words. He wears a fancy spoon around his neck and slurps wine from it like a cat slurps a saucer of milk. The delicate lapping and fussy face satisfaction are all part of the package.
It’s a complete production that adds that flair of drama to the ordinary night out I suppose. Or it’s a high priced way to justify drinking a lot of wine competitively on a regular basis.
I just don’t get all the fuss about bottles of spoiled grape juice. Here kitty kitty.
