The Wine Raconteur

One night I ended up on stage with Hula Girls in their skimpy attire in Las Vegas.  I was there on my first honeymoon and this was Vegas, when it was a “family” town.   It was glamorous and gaudy all bundled up together.  Everybody got dressed up in their finest clothes and enjoyed the festivities.  It gave the feeling that everyone was part of the “Rat Pack,” and what was more exciting then that.  The casino/hotels were not separate zip codes back then, and the main goal of all the entertainment and dinners was to keep you gambling.

I am not a gambler, never have and never will.  Alright when I used to go there I gambled, but I lost and if I am going to give my money away, I hope to get something in return.  Oh well.  I remember, going to see some of my Father’s old friends that were “pit bosses” or some other titled position in the casinos.  One of the “pit bosses” that I looked up offered me a line pass to go see Don Ho at the casino.  At that time, Don Ho was billed as the “Dean Martin” of Hawaii and he was a regular performer in Vegas.  In those days you went to see a “star” at the shows, today if they changed the entire cast overnight on some of the big extravaganza shows that have run for years, you would never know it.  I mean would you know one blue man from another?

So that evening I had a line pass, which is just a fancy way of saying that you don’t have to wait in line to get your table assignment.  For an extra gratuity, you ended up stage-side.  We made chit chat with some people at the next table and waited for the show.  Don Ho had a complete Vegas revue show with dancers, singers, comics and talks with the audience.  Somewhere during the show, he asked if there were any honeymooners in the audience that evening.  I was cajoled to raise my hand, and the next thing I know two young Hula Girls were escorting me to the wings of the stage.

Once backstage, the ladies had a “certain” look for me, so they took my suit coat off and I believe my dress shirt as well, and left me with my tie, trousers and shoes.  I could see Don Ho performing, and his piano was designed so that the entire length of the piano had a row of glasses side by side.  This could not be seen from the audience.  He was getting ready to perform “Tiny Bubbles” which was his theme song.  The girls brought me on-stage and stood me rather sheepishly between the two of them as they started to do a hula with me.  The next thing I know, one of them is holding her top, running off the stage and looks at the audience and says “And he is on his honeymoon.”  The audience roared, I was taken back in the wings to get properly dressed, while “Tiny Bubbles” was being performed.

I got back to my table, and there was an ice bucket on a pedestal next to my table with a bottle of champagne, courtesy of my “co-star.”

When I was in college, I frequented a couple of nightclubs that were “wine-oriented.”  They had great wine lists, and I would take a date to these clubs after dinner for a bottle of wine and some dancing.  Truth be told, I couldn’t afford both dinner and wine together at either club.  I was still learning about wines, and this way I could have a different bottle each time I went out, and the bottle would last the evening, interspersed with some dancing.

One night I went to one of the clubs stag, in hopes that I might find a young lady.  This was the seventies, and clubs were a great venue back then.  Since I was by myself, a bottle of wine was not a good choice.  I was sitting at the bar, when the owner came over to talk to me from behind the bar.  I think that he understood that I was not a heavy hitter, but that I did like his wine selection.  The bartender had just poured me a glass of Chevas, and I was getting ready to have my first taste for the evening.  The owner grabbed my glass of scotch and unceremoniously threw it down the sink and started laughing.  I was looking over the bar at my lost drink.

He looked at me and stated that I was to enjoy a glass of wine with him.  My ears perked up, and my taste buds forgot about the scotch.  He had grabbed a bottle from his personal stash and wanted to evaluate it.  He informed me that if I could do any identification from a “blind” tasting, that there would be no charge for the scotch or another one later on.  I figured I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

We went to a far table away from the maddening crowd.  He had two large crystal goblets and a bottle in a brown paper bag.  The wine bottle looked like it should be in the hands of a skid-row wino, and not in a place like this.  He carefully opened the bottle, with the bag completely covering the label, and I could not even see the foil over the cap for any help.  He took the cork off of the cork screw, smelled it, smiled and put it in his pocket, to keep my prying eyes off of any clue.  He then decanted the bottle with the paper back tightly wrapped around so that I still couldn’t see the label, but so that he could see the neck of the bottle.   He held it over a candle and began decanting into a crystal bottle.  This was the first time, I had really watched a bottle decanted, as most of the wines that I could afford, did not require such pomp and circumstance.  He pointed out to me that I should look at the bottle’s neck at that moment, and I saw the start of the sludge or dregs that accumulate in a well aged wine.  He then looked at the crystal bottle and estimated that about a third of the bottle was lost because of the age.

He poured two generous glasses of this wine and handed one to me.  I picked up the glass and held towards a light fixture and was amazed at how light the color of this red wine was.  It was much paler, than any wine that I had ever tried up to that moment.  I joked that this wine must be older then me, and he laughed.  I then swirled it in the glass and wanted to stick my whole nose in the goblet.  It had a very ethereal smell, which I had never encountered before.  Then we both tasted it, at the same time.  Even knowing how to truly taste a wine, I swallowed it much quicker then my host did.  He was still chewing it, and making a decision on the future of this wine.  After the first taste, he looked at me, and wanted to know what my decision on the wine was.

I knew it was not Bordeaux, because by that time I had tasted several of the lesser wines of the Medoc, but none of the Grand Crus.  So I smiled and said that it was a Burgundy and I hoped this would suffice.  It did not.  He claimed that any bum off the street could have made that opinion.  He goaded me to continue.  My brain was fairly uncluttered at that time, as I had been reading many books about wines, so I tried to figure a section of Burgundy that had proper fame.  I came up with a hallowed name and said “Richebourg.”  He smiled and said that I was right.  I felt like a million dollars at that moment.  He then said after a couple more tastes, that for a refill, that I should come up with the year of vintage.  I was thinking to my self that this was not fair, but I had no skin in the game, so I continued.  I thought to myself that there were three stellar vintages of that century; 1961, 1945 and 1921.  I continued my thought process and reasoned that the ‘61’s were too recent for him to want to check on, the ‘45’s were legendary and the 21’s also were legendary (but was it over-the-hill?).  I told him that I was guessing, but I said 1921.  He laughed pulled away the paper bag and showed me that I was right on all counts.  He continued laughing and told me I was a lucky S.O.B and I agreed.

He asked me how I did it, and I told him it was just deduction and presumption on my part.  Outside of knowing that it was a Burgundy, I had no proper knowledge of any of the great Burgundies, so I just guessed at a name.  Then I explained my thoughts on the vintage years, and I said that presumed he had more of this wine and was checking to see if he could serve it safely to his friends that really knew their wines.  He poured me another glass and told me to enjoy it, and to remember the evening.  Even as he walked away to take care of his business, I was still thanking him profusely.

Years later, I splurged and bought a bottle of 1967 Richebourg and drank it way too soon.  I had to know, and somewhere in the back of my brain, my brain gave me a whack and said that it was not as great as that ’21.  I may never have a chance to have a legendary ’45, but I can say that I had a ’21.

When I first made a conscious effort to study and taste wines,  one of the more popular wines to be found were from the Mosel-Saar-Ruwer district of Germany, a Piesporter.  Wines were not as common in the 1970’s as they are today, and restaurants that wanted to be considered up-scale were making decisions to carry more than a white, red, rose and a champagne.  One of the first wines that everyone seemed to be carrying was a white from the village of Piersport.  It was a judicious choice, as to this day, one can find a Piersporter on most lists.

When I was young, white wines were more popular with the ladies, then with the men.  I guess men did not want to be seen drinking a “light” drink.  This was the time of simple cocktails and beer, and if you drank wine it should be red.  Maybe I am oversimplifying the era, but white wines were more feminine in concept.  Be that as it may, I had to try as many wines as I could, so that I could make sound judgments and make suggestions at dinner.

I found the Piesporter wines to be a good choice, as they had a nice color, an agreeable nose and not a heavy aftertaste.  I discovered that I enjoyed it with pork dishes especially in German and Hungarian restaurants.  It had a nice crisp taste with just some sweetness.  I must confess that unless I am drinking a dessert wine, I am not partial to a sweet taste to my glass of wine, so I do have a built-in bias.  I do try to overlook that bias, when I taste a wine for the first time; but I do enjoy a fruity nose or even a perfume scented nose.

In the village of Piesport, there are some important vineyards (and please excuse me, but I can’t figure out how to get an umlaut over an “a” or an “o”).  Some of the vineyards to look for are Goldtropfchen, Lay, Taubengarten and Falkenberg.  If you can find any of these “mit Pradikat” which is the German way of saying that it special picking of the grapes beyond the normal harvest, by all means do order one.  The most common “Pradikat” that you will find is Kabinett, Spatlese and Auslese.

If you were like me, and shied away from whites, please rethink it, and try a couple of different wines.  I think you will be happy that you did.

Charity events are great times to discover wines that you may not buy a bottle of, if it is new to you.  We just went to the Wine Stroll in Royal Oak (a city known for an eclectic mix of restaurants and boutiques), which is an annual tradition to raise money for a local charity.  My Bride and her friends have gone a couple of times and have always enjoyed it.  This year I had the good fortune to join the group.  The tickets were priced at $40.00 each, which is not a bad price for a jovial day of good wine and food.

Outings of this nature are a great way for restaurants to introduce themselves to potential new customers.  They usually prepare a taste of one of their most popular dishes and pair it with a good wine.  It is a win-win situation, in that people will remember the offerings and the next time they want to go out, they will want to try an evening there.

This was not the case.  It was poorly arranged, we went to the first kiosk to get our pass, as we had already secured the tickets by post.  The first line was over a block long of people, so we decided to try the other kiosk, with identical results.  There were grumblings by the patrons in line, as the line was not moving.  The wine stroll was scheduled from one to five, it took one hour for us to get through the line, redeem our tickets and receive the mandatory lanyard and pass to begin.  A couple of the “volunteers” were totally indifferent to the complaints of the people and exhibited the worst in customer service.

There were twenty-one restaurants participating in the stroll and we created our own tour.  We only visited eight of the participating restaurants.  Of the restaurants we visited, most of them went out of their way to feature lackluster food samples and mediocre wines for pairings.  There was nothing to ignite the passion of wanting to try a night at any establishment.  After visiting the second restaurant a couple of our group, dismissed the wine being poured and opted to buy a beer instead.  By the fifth tasting, we decided to go to a restaurant and have lunch and relax.  The conversation centered on beer and cocktails, and when was mentioned it was to lament on the poor selections offered.  In fact one of the restaurants had the tasting in the back of the shop and the smell was so foul, I couldn’t decide if it was the wine or the food.  In fact when I held the wine up to check the nose, it was so bad (it reminded me of an outdoor fish market), that I could not even taste the wine.

After lunch, we were going to attempt the stroll again, changed our minds and went to a restaurant that was not even part of the stroll.  We ate and drank some more, and I did have some wonderful short-rib tacos and a glass of Duckhorn Decoy wine.  Prior to the Stroll we met at a mutual friend’s house and started with Mimosas.  Needles to say, that first glass of wine and the last glass of wine were the most memorable of the day.

I do hope that the local charity where the proceeds were going to, search for a new organizer for the event, as at the moment I have no desire to ever attend this Wine Stroll again.  At a later date, I will discuss a wine and food charity that is run properly and a good time is enjoyed by all, which is how it should be.

Is there a person of drinking age that sees that word, and doesn’t think of “The Cask of Amontillado and Edgar Allan Poe?  The classic short story that was mandatory reading when I was in Junior High, and I hope it still is.

In my early years, I bought some Sherry wines, which Amontillado is a type of.  The word Sherry is actually an anglicized version of Jerez de la Frontera.  Jerez at one time was the outpost of the Moorish sector of Spain; it was at the “frontier” before the Christian sector.

Sherry wines are a unique blend of years, as well as a blend of different “Sherry” type wines, and then they are fortified with brandy to raise the alcohol content.  It is not my intent to do a treatise on the many steps to create Sherry.  This procedure though ensures that the particular Sherry wine that you drink will be the same year after year, decade after decade, according to the taste preference of the particular Sherry house for each type they make.  Consequently there are no vintage years for Sherry.  You may also notice as you shop for a Sherry in the store, or look at the selection on a wine list, that a lot of brands sound English as opposed to Spanish.  This fact alone explains why the anglicized name is how most people refer to the wine.  Amontillado is by far the most “Sherry” of the types, and it is curious, because the name is from a village Montillado about a hundred miles away from Jerez de la Frontera.  The wines produced in Montillado will remind one of a Jerez de la Frontera Amontillado.

A good Amontillado has a rich smooth taste with a taste of the terroir.  It should not be confused with “Sherry” wines encountered in America, as most are sweet distant relatives in “name” only.  Though a few American wineries have begun the process of developing a “Sherry” wine, in the time honored and classic style, I have not tried one yet for a comparison.

At one time, I imagined that a fine wine cellar must have some Sherry wines to be complete.  Even though I have many great dessert wines in my cellar, I no longer have any Sherry resting.  Nowadays, if the whim hits me, I prefer to order a fine Sherry after dessert and before the cognac in a restaurant setting.

I don’t usually think of Italy and Pinot Noir in the same sentence.  This memory changed that thought.  I used to go to Chicago for business twice a year, and I would buy an extra ticket for my Bride (she could not be expensed, but I figured the hotel would be, and who wants to be alone in another city).  I also would not expense my dinners, as they would far surpass any per diem that I would be allowed (so why look for problems).

One trip, we decided to go to a noted restaurant in Chicago, Italian Village Restaurant.  We were dressed to the nines for dinner and when we arrived at the lobby of the restaurant we saw some couples coming down the stairs from another restaurant in denim shorts and t-shirts.  I thought, did I make a mistake, was this a “big-bowl pasta joint?”  Then they took us to our table in the restaurant behind the lobby.  As soon as we walked in, I knew that we had made the right decision.  This was an “old school” Italian restaurant with narrow aisles and booths, with dim lighting.  I felt at home immediately.

They brought us our menu and the wine list.  The wine list was a misnomer; it should have been a wine book.  They advertised that they carried a selection of about 1700 wines.  At that point in my life, it was the largest listing of wines, I had ever encountered.  Page after page of wines that I would have loved to have ordered, but my wallet would not allow it.  I was totally humbled.  The sommelier came by, and we started to talk about the vast selection listed.  He was a true gentleman, came to the realization that I was not going to pop for a sacred selection.  We were going to order some classic Italian dishes and after discussing our menu choices, he inquired if I would like to try something more unique that would be harmonious with our meal.  I agreed and felt that the wine should be fun and adventurous.

Since we were not having “heavy” Italian cuisine, he asked if I had ever had an Italian Pinot Noir.  I replied that I had not, as I thought of Pinot as the choice of Burgundy in France, and of Northern California.  He smiled and assured me, that we would enjoy the wine.  The wine was a Concilio Pinot Noir Trentino Riserva 1993.  It had great color and body; was a perfect pairing for our dinner.  We actually lingered after dinner to enjoy the wine by itself, until we had finished the bottle.  Then we ordered dessert, cappuccino and Black Sambucca.  I asked if we could have the empty bottle as a remembrance, when they found out that we were from out-of-town, they went and removed the label from the bottle and put it in a keepsake folder.  They said that it would be easier than packing an empty bottle in our luggage.  What a wonderful way to end an evening.

“Screaming Eagle Wines are not for mere mortals” was my answer to a query, but this question actually arises in the middle of one of my greatest wine stories.  Some of my friends may be tired of this story, but I do enjoy retelling it.

First a little background for mere mortals like me.  Screaming Eagle is one of the legendary cult wines of California.  You cannot visit the winery, there is no tasting room and the wines are sold by subscription.  There is even a waiting list to get onto the subscription list.  What a terrible situation for a business to be in, the wine is pre-sold each vintage.  The winery does donate some wine for the big Napa charity auctions, because the proceeds go back to the area.  From all conversations I have had, there is a little cottage industry of people who have been on the subscription list, pay for the wine and then proceed to give their allotment to the prestigious auction houses.  They make a profit on their purchase, wait for the following year and repeat the cycle.  Through the auction houses are how most restaurants (from what I gather) get the wine to proudly place on their wine list.  I am sure that most restaurants like the honor of having the wine on the list, and price it, so that they don’t have to go through the rigors of getting more.

The story that I am going to relate has been sanitized to protect everyone.  My Bride and I were on holidays in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California.  This community is a quaint, charming community known for their artists, restaurants and wineries.  It may be the only quaint community that has a Tiffany’s on the main drag.  You may see celebrities there, and celebrities own businesses there as well.  I do digress.

I resume; my Bride and I like to dress for dinner when we are on holidays to make it even more festive and memorable.  I tend to make dinner reservations months in advance of our trips, because there are certain restaurants that are imperative that we visit.  We were at such a hallowed institution.  I remember ordering my customary vermouth cocktail, while I studied the menu and the wine list, one cannot be hasty.  We finally decided on all of the courses, and ordered two wonderful splits of Carmel wines to go with some of the courses.  We started off with a Talbott Sleepy Hollow Vineyard Chardonnay and then would finish off with a Marinus Meritage.  We were looking forward to a great meal.

Immediately after our waiter left with all of our requests, two gentlemen were seated at the next table.  They called for the sommelier, and he went to their table, soon after an argument ensued and the sommelier left the table.  The wait staff came to our table to start setting the different wine glasses for the different wines that we had ordered.  Just before our first course, one of the two men looked at our table of stemware and asked if I knew anything about wine.  I replied that I knew a little, and then he proceeded to interview me as if I was in a courtroom, this continued through the first course and the salad course.  During this conversation the men were drinking cocktails.  I guess he was satisfied with my grilling, because all of this was a prelude to what was occurred next.

These two gentlemen were business partners and had around $3000.00 of company money that had to be spent by the end of the trip, or they would lose the amount to spend.  We presumed it had more to do with business expenses; my Bride and I were both appalled, but we could not chastise them (it wasn’t our business).  They wanted to order the bottle of Screaming Eagle for dinner, and the sommelier did not want to serve it.  I told the two men, that the sommelier was probably doing them a favor, because I felt that the wine was much too young to be poured.  I explained that a bottle of this quality was made to be cellared, to mature and to become more complex.  I said that many of the wines on the list would be perfect to drink this evening.  The other man, looked at me, and said that is what the sommelier had told him.  That is when he asked me, if I had ever had Screaming Eagle, and that is when I gave him my reply (from above).

This went on through our entrée, and while we were waiting for our dessert, some vintage port and a cognac, the gentlemen asked if I could talk to the sommelier, as he wasn’t returning to their table.  I asked our server, to ask if the sommelier would come to our table, when he did, I recounted all that had occurred during our dinner.  I spoke loud enough that there would be no question at the next table about my discussion.  I said that I concurred with the sommelier that they were wasting good money on an immature body of wine (albeit a stellar one).  I also said that because of my years in retailing, if I did my due diligence and told a customer the negative aspects of an item and they still wanted the item, that I had no choice but to honor the request.  I repeated the old adage,” that a bird in the hand, is worth two in the bush.”

We had finally come to the end of a great meal, in spite of the two gentlemen who kept us from our own private conversation and good company.  As I was calling for our bill, the sommelier was walking to our table with a tray with a single, most perfectly shaped wine glass with the longest stem I had ever seen.  I told the sommelier that we had received everything that we had ordered for the night.  He looked at me and smiled, and told me the gentlemen thought that I should have the honor of having the first glass and taste of the wine after it had been decanted.  I gamely accepted, asked if I could have a piece of bread and a fresh glass of water to cleanse my palate after a wonderful dinner.

I felt like every eye in the restaurant was watching this event unfold, though I am sure that this was not the case.  I asked my Bride if she would like the first taste, and she said that I had spoiled her taste buds enough and this was all for me.  As I swirled the wine in the glass, marveled at the rich color, inhaled the nose that was for me, I finally placed the first sip on my tongue, almost slurping as I whistled in that last breath of air for the wine, and chewed that first taste, then swallowed.  I waited for and studied the after taste or kiss of the wine and smiled.  I looked at my Bride, the sommelier and the two gentlemen and said that the wine was delicious, but it would have been monumental and awe-inspiring in about ten years.

I did nurse that glass of wine, and realized that this was one of the great wine stories in my life.  As they used to say on Dragnet, the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent.

A wine to insure that a groom would have a male heir was one of the medicinal beliefs about Tokay wines.  A glass of it was to be consumed the evening of the nuptials.  Another tradition was that doctors would prescribe this famous wine to dying patients, because it would invigorate them to live longer.  Two great reasons to always stock this wine in your cellar, and for years, no cellar was considered complete without a couple of bottles of Tokay.

This is probably the famous and noted wine from Hungary and comes from the village and surrounding area of Tokay (Tokaj) at the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.  They plant the Furmint grape there in a very volcanic soil, which lends a taste of the earth (terroir, as the French say).  They allow the some of the grapes to stay on the vine to achieve the Noble Rot, a process that is also found in the great dessert wines of France and Germany.  It is the bundling of these super sweet grapes that account for sweetness of Tokay.  These bundles of the sweetest grapes are put into containers called “puttonos” and they are added to the regular wine from the basic harvested grapes.

One can buy basic Tokay wine called Szamorodi, or they can buy Tokaji Aszu with the designated Puttonos from one to five.  Aszu is Hungarian for sweet.  I guess that you can liken the numbering system to Germany’s Auslese, Beerenauslese, Trockenbeerenauslese and Eiswein.  There is lore, and it probably was so, years ago that there was also a Tokaji Essence that was made entirely of “puttonos” grapes.  It is legendary, though I have never talked to anyone that has or had a bottle of it.  Perhaps after the Austro-Hungarian Empire, this was lost to Hungary as well as their nobility class.

As one would imagine, the bottles are smaller, sixteen ounces, and a very unique shape, and have a higher alcohol count.  One or two glasses per person after a feast will be more than adequate for everyone.  The wines that I have had are of a pretty golden color, with a nose of sugar or honey for a lack of a better description, but with the underlying taste of the soil that differentiates it from the other great dessert wines.  I have always been on the lookout for the one and two “puttonos” designations.  I have only found the three, four and five.  I will continue to look though.

Outside of having wine with great friends and a great dinner, the next most enjoyable taste fest one can have is by going to a tasting room.

There is no way to describe the electricity of trying a wine at its home.  We have been to Napa Valley, Carmel by the Sea, Monterey, the Central Coast of California and in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan around Traverse City; just to taste wines.  Each of these areas require several pages each to discus the wines and fun encountered.  If you are going to a wine area, you may even call or email some of them to see if they have special tasting events while you are there, or if you have an appointment, they may even offer some of their premium wines that are not normally poured to the public.  Then there have been wine clubs, some which we have joined, wine bars and even some wine shops have tasting specials.  Never miss a chance to go to any in your travels, because you may meet by accident wine representatives who can give you extensive information about certain wines, and sometimes by happenstance you even get invited to wine tasting dinners, that you would never have known about.

The only caveat that I may mention, is do expect to pay for a tasting, if it is free, consider that a bonus.  On the times where the tasting is gratis, I have always made it a point of courtesy to buy a couple of bottles, and sometimes a case or two.

As strange as it may seem, there is a routine one should get into when doing a tasting.  Start by having a cracker or two and then a glass of wine to cleanse your taste buds.  Look at the glass of wine that has been poured, study the color, is it deep or pale.  Swirl the wine in the glass; this will aerate the wine more, which adds to the tasting.  Now stick your nose into the bell of the glass and smell, you do want to use all of your sensory powers.  You will be surprised what you may smell; it can be a sensory overload.  Take a sip of the first wine, and lay it on your tongue, do not swallow (even though that is your first inclination).  Purse your lips as if you are going to whistle, but inhale air (when you whistle you are exhaling air), this sudden rush of air just before tasting can make the wine explode in taste.  I know if sounds silly, but it works wonders for the moment.  Then proceed to chew this nectar that has been on your tongue (you may feel silly the first couple of times that you do this), then pause and wait to experience the after taste.  Discus what just occurred with your friends, strangers and the servers.  Write your immediate thoughts, if that will help.  Then reach for the crackers and another glass of water, and pour some water into your wine glass and rinse it before getting the next glass of wine.

If you are fortunate to be in an area, where you may be going to several wineries in one day there is a trick you must learn, otherwise you may be useless by the third winery.  You must learn to spit out wine; there will always be some decanter or jug around for this purpose.  Also there may be a wine that you just do not enjoy, free feel to spit it out.  You will not hurt the server’s feelings, as this is common practice.

Occasionally you may see, usually as a decoration on a wall, a silver shallow cup called a tastevin, and it may look line a fancy ashtray.  This cup is used by some in the profession to taste wines out of the barrels before bottling.  You sometimes see a sommelier in a fine restaurant having one dangling on a chain around his neck.  I am not a sommelier, but after seeing one, I wanted one, not that I would use it, but because I thought it would be cool.  I searched several years for one, and then in an antique shop in Calistoga I found one.  I did have to listen to the obligatory, “what do you need that for?” and then I bought it.  It is a great conversation piece in our house.

Below is a picture of my tastevin, next to a corkscrew that has been mounted in an antique wine root.  For background I grabbed a few bottles of wine from my cellar.  If you are interested in the labels they are from left to right: Ch. Mouton-Rothschild ’73, Ch. Cheval Blanc ’92, Dominus ’97, Gaja Barbaresco ’82, Ch. Mouton-Rothschild ’64 and Cain Five ’92.  Please excuse me for some bragging rights.

To celebrate Mother’s Day this year, one of our sons took my Bride and me to the second location of Pizzeria Biga.  This is a very fine gourmet style pizzeria started by a stellar chef named Luciano Del Signore.  We have followed Luciano and his great approach to the culinary arts since the days of Fonte D’Amore in Livonia.  As far as I was concerned this was one of the best kept secrets in the Metropolitan Area for Italian food.  Luciano would take time to talk about food, and wine, passions for both of us.  Luciano introduced me to many Italian wines that he thought that I might miss off of his wine list.

Fonte D’Amore was closed, so that he could open an even finer dining experience called Bacco Ristorante.  This restaurant will be a subject all to itself, and if you ever get the chance to go there, go there.  It is an experience for the food and one of the best selections of Italian wines you will ever encounter under one roof.

Now back to Pizzeria Biga, the first location is about two blocks away from Bacco, and on occasion you might even catch Luciano on a Segway going back and forth.  Luciano came up with one of the lightest pizza crusts you will ever have, and that is the start of his pizza, not to mention the finest of toppings, including his own charcuterie.  He also brought back, much to my Bride’s happiness his Roasted Garlic and Eggplant soup.  We would go to Fonte D’Amore and buy a half-gallon of this soup along with his bread, put it into a chafing dish, and just let people dunk the bread into the soup, as a casual appetizer.

We tried two different wines, while we were there.  One as a MarrraMiero “Dama” Montepulciano Di Abruzzo.  This is a fine district in Italy, which is underplayed compared to the more famous areas. We also had a Mendoza “Carelli” Malbec from Argentina that was very full bodied.  These two wines were good choices for our pies.

I would also be remiss, not to mention a door that was upstairs in a loft area that caught my fancy.  I had discussed using wine crates as siding in my cellar, well at Pizzeria Biga they had a door that was paneled with the wood from shipping crates.