in a season, well, oscar season, where the vin du mode is pinot noir, it's hard to admit that I may have, at one point in my artless, not to mention pretentious, oenophile education, worshipped merlot.
despite the forecast, some of my work peoples decided yesterday that it was too late to ditch our long-planned farewell dinner for this guy who we were never particularly fond of but who has finally made good on his dare to move on to another hospital. besides, who cares about the expected seven to eight inches of snow heading our way when there was a legitimate excuse to get drunk. on great varietals, I should add, quite belatedly and insincerely.
the dinner would be held in this italian bistro in our area with a horrible reputation for meat entrees but with quite a substantial wine tasting cellar, I heard.
i arrived at the appointed place when snow flurries were just starting to powder everything. two leafless trees, a neat though wispy poplar and a scraggly bigleaf maple, I believe it was, framed the entrance of the bistro's parking lot.
our party had been assigned to this rustic long table down the cellar. an indifferent sommelier was fidgeting against the cold wall while the rest of us could not come to an agreement on which wine to have for our first course.
finally, this guy we were throwing the dinner for finally put his foot down, as if he was footing the bill. but anyway. he demanded that all through dinner, no one should be allowed to order anything remotely merlot. this was maybe when, in my melodramatic mind, the snow outside started to really pour.
the only comedy nominated for best picture in this year's oscar derby, sideways, did not really rake it in in the tills. however, in the cultural zeitgeist, this alexander payne film has inebriated a whole lot of critics and sopped to the core the american wine drinking world.
in the film, Miles, an unrecovered divorce and novelist manqué, in short a sad sack really, played by the insanely underappreciated paul giamatti, gifts his college buddy, Jack, a hollywood has-been, with his idea of a bachelor's party - a traipse through the Santa Barbara wine country.
in the wine friendly movie, the odd couple is superficially contrasted by their wine tastes: Jack, a-okay with cheap Merlot while Miles pines for the perfect pinot. pinot noir, most specifically.
in a scene not so pivotal to the movie's narrative but has sent shivers down spines of wine snobs, miles threatened not to go along with this double date that his oversexed buddy has contrived should any of the girls order merlot. ouch.
not to sound overly defensive, (too late now, I realize) I grant that merlot is overly fruity. but I do enjoy it for its fickleness. and besides, loving this much dissed varietal places me in a comfortable spot in the wine loving world.
there are the snubs, those that could never be caught dead quaffing merlot, and then there is I, together with cheap bar mitzvah hosts and chintzy wedding planners, adoring the merlot.
and I have no qualms with this highly segmented world order. unlike what ivan turgenev said, I do, I really do, understand how others can blow their noses quite differently than I do. and I find it quite charming. the variety of nose blowing in this world, I mean.
but throughout dinner, against my instincts, I was reduced to a sniffling fool, a pretentious wine sniffing fool, trying so hard to be labelled as someone with the nose. oh, this pinot grigio is so crisp, so aromatic and wonderfully complex. true, typical fruity boquet, but surprisingly full bodied on the palate. I did not know I have the capacity to actually loathe myself quite convincingly.
the snow continued to pour as we stumbled out of the restaurant. as I followed our designated driver to the parking lot, I saw the two trees by the entrance now being covered entirely by snow. and in the rage of the storm, the two looked exactly alike, twin sisters dressed up in similarly clean but decidedly ugly white frocks.