By W. R. Jones
This past weekend I painted with a watercolor sketchbooking class of Susan Cornelis given at Lynmar Estate winery in Sebastopol, CA. It was a delightful combination of learning and fun. If you get the opportunity to study with this facinating teacher in a beautiful landscape I strongly recommend it.
On Friday evening I attended “Pinot and Pizza” at the winery with Susan and her husband, Bob. They are like children when it comes to drinking, but I think I straightened them out. This wine tasting business is a study in making up the most fanciful words your little brain can conjure to describe some grape juice gone bad.
They do have an excellent business plan at this place as it cost $45 for what I think may have been wine and what I would call “palm” pizza. The entire pizza would fit in the palm of your hand. But you don’t get the whole pizza – it is shared between 12 tables. You have to run your ass off to get enough for your tastebuds to figure out what exactly was on those little tidbits.
When I walked in and saw a table of two filled with empty wineglasses I thought those two were power drinkers who had got their $45 worth. I couldn’t imagine how they could still speak so clearly. When I drink that much I’m face down on the table muttering to myself in a pool of drool. Then I heard a few of their words – utter nonsense – “fruity, an oak aftertaste, winter plums, etc.”
A waiter brought wine to our table and tipped the bottle over my large glass. Now I get why those people stick their nose down the glass then hold it up to the light to look for color. They want to see if that slick ass waiter actually put ANY wine in there. I’m thinking a bottle poured by that waiter may last a semester. I ran my tongue around the inside of the glass to see if I could pickup a hint of anything. Here is where I fell into “The Emperor’s New Clothes” trap. I started making up whiffledust about what I was tasting even though all I really got was some air and dishsoap residue.
After that tightfisted waiter tried this on me for the 5th time I put my foot down. “Look here young fellow, why don’t you just fill the glass and save yourself all this shuffling back and forth? Perhaps you came from a poor family? That would explain the parsimonious pour. There, that’s better, now I can taste it. “
Surprisingly, Bob and Susan seemed embarrassed to be sitting with me. I was expecting them to be impressed with my negotiating skills.
I’d like to point out that you don’t get any better (read bigger) buzz from a $100 bottle of wine than you do from a $2 bottle. So why on earth would you spend more? Here is an earthy lesson for all those bright homebuyers and Wall Street gurus. And, also, you can get jeans at Wal Mart for $15.
God, I’ve got a headache this morning.