Archive for September, 2008

You can determine a lot about a profession based on the kind of people who choose to do it. I’ve worked in various fields: luxury retail, adventure travel, magazine publishing, even holistic health. I’ve encountered myriad eclectic people along the way, from the horror novel-writing wine editor to the massage therapist who based her day on the number of red lights she encountered on her drive into work (more than two meant the day was inauspicious). But in my experience, no field attracts more interesting, some would even say inspired, characters than the wine business.

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Years ago, while conducting research for my book about gastro-pairing (Red Wine with Fish, Simon & Schuster, 1989),  I stumbled upon a freaky surprise: anchovies were just fine with a fruity, reasonably young red Rioja. And the more I tested the combo, the more the truth became clear: there’s something about the Rioja fruit combined with the normally excellent Rioja acidity that covers the fishiness, cuts through the salt, and leaves your taste buds in more harmony than they should have any right to expect. It offered a pairing alternative to a difficult food that was quite unexpected.

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I’m practically immune to a PR disease that I’ll call the “high-end spirits promotion.” Look, I’m a simple guy. There I am in this world, bumping along, loving my simple bottle of Tequila, the one that really does taste like blue agave–when suddenly they come roaring at you, making you feel worthless unless you’re into the Extra Reserve Jimador’s Grandmother’s Añejo.” It’s dark-brown, it tastes more like brandy than tequila, and it only costs $190.

I’m sure you’ve seen the phenomenon: advertisements and geeks exhorting you to always “drink up” (2008-style), with bottles of high-end rum, Bourbon, cachaça, rye, etc. Here’s one that especially cracked me up recently, at a very upscale southern restaurant in New Orleans: I was served a “boutique moonshine.” Its pronounced flavor of kaopectate made me long for a night next to a simple backyard still, howling at the moon, avoiding the revenuers as well as any pretension.

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