When I say “Let’s Talk About Wine,” you may not know what I mean.
Or maybe you do.
Depends on the kind of wine drinker you are, I guess.
I want to talk about wine and the things I love about wine and what wine means to me. I don’t really want to talk about what it smells like, or what its bouquet is, or if it’s oakey or buttery.
I am a wine lover. I know many of you are, as well. Most of my friends and family are, thankfully. I’m a white wine girl; red wine doesn’t sit well with me for some reason, and it makes me crazy thirsty. So I stick with white, usually Sauvignon Blanc in the summer and Chardonnay in the winter.
It wasn’t that long ago that I preferred a beer or a cocktail to a glass of wine. As a young adult drinker, I don’t remember wine being all that present. I still enjoy a beer or a cocktail, no disrespect there, but if I’m given a choice, it’s always going to be wine.
To me, a beer is a football game, a Saturday lunch out, or a scorching hot day.
A cocktail is the holidays, a summer happy hour, or the rare, dressed-up party.
A glass of wine is every day gold, a gift, reason alone to have a get-together.
Every day, I have wine. I love a glass while I cook and a glass with dinner, and although I refuse to tell my doctor, some days more than that. Surely they know we all lie on that question, right?
Recently, I went out to dinner with my husband for our anniversary. We decided to try a trendy place we had heard good things about. We love to eat and sweet lord, he deserves a treat for putting up with me for 17 years, so we dressed up and headed out. The place that shall remain nameless did not disappoint on the food- my sweet potato gnocchi was wonderful, as were the fruit crisp and the chardonnay.
The problem was the couple next to us. And when I say “next to us,” I mean NEXT TO US. Like, I could have touched the woman if I extended my arm out. And we were in this little weird nook, so it was like the four of us were having dinner together but at two tables. We got used to it fairly quickly and carried on our own separate conversations, until the chick next to me asked the server if she could speak to the “som.” Which I assumed was the “sommelier.” I found that annoying right off the bat and should’ve known it was foreshadowing. The “som” came out and she started loudly telling him all about her “som class” she just took and was taking “som 2” and wanted to ask him all about the wine list.
Hey, I’m all for wine school. Seriously. I am a wine supporter, so I am a fan of people knowing how to make good wine. If a presidential candidate ran on a platform for more wine school funding, I would probably vote for them. So, the wine guy (I like “wine guy” better than som) starts telling her some wines to try, etc. etc. For quite some time. Many minutes. Which was fine but it was a bit distracting, seeing as how I could’ve taken a selfie with them, they were so close, and we don’t go to fancy dinners all that often. So I decided to make it less awkward by pleasantly putting us into the conversation and exclaiming to our three nook-mates, “hey, this is great! I’m going to get in on this free wine class, if you don’t mind.”
Crickets. And stares. Quizzical, uninviting stares.
And then the chick turned back to the wine guy and THEY continued THEIR conversation. They talked about flavors, they talked about varieties, they talked about this bs and that bs and ooh la la, the superiority of French wines and her love of $100 bottles and how she must have one. By the way- she was about 25. Her man was about the same. Also, being completely ignored by her but eventually paying the bill.
They held their glasses up; they sniffed their snooty noses full of wine smells; they acted like complete asses.
Okay. Like I said, I’m all about the wine. I know there are some that are better than others. I have had wine I don’t like, I have had wine that I love and can’t afford on a regular basis. I think winemaking is fascinating. I thank God for winemakers every damn day. I love to go to wineries. I’ve been to Napa. But you know what? I drink wine that costs as close to $10/bottle most of the time. And Newsflash: People are more important than wine or food at a restaurant. This person may have known a lot about wine but she sure didn’t know squat about people. And neither did the wine guy.
I would rather drink a PBR in a dive bar any day than have to be around that douchebaggery. Funnily enough: the girl got up to use the restroom and while she was gone, her dude (again, he was in my peripheral vision, I couldn’t help but see him) tossed back most of a glass of that $100 wine. Take that as you will, but I think he would’ve rather been at my dive bar, too.
After we paid, my awesome husband, beyond annoyed too but not afraid to show it (gotta love that), held up his water glass, and loudly exclaimed, “honey, what do you think? I taste some fruitiness, maybe some earthiness…oh and I taste some alcohol from the baby wipes in the public water system…”
At that point, it was all over for me. I was dying. The guy was looking at him sideways and my guffawing wasn’t helping. We got out of there quickly, before they had time to complain to their buddy.
I would say we learned a valuable lesson: don’t ever go back to that restaurant! And that as much as I love food and wine, people should always come first. Eat, drink, and be merry! And the more, the merrier.
Take care of yourselves and each other,