Dilettantes Unite.
Let us momentarily transubstantiate ink for wine, so that with these words I may toast the Valley of the Moon Dilettante Enological Society. Clink.
I like these guys, not just because they make wine, but because their name is nearly as pretentious-sounding as my own. I mean, what would it score in Scrabble – infinity? Moreover, they have proved themselves a rather forgiving lot. You see, I missed the amateur wine tasting I was invited to judge prior to their annual awards ceremony at the Vintage House last Friday. Consequently, upon my arrival at the banquet, I felt obliged to conduct my own speed-tasting of the 20 or so wines that were represented. The gent behind the bar was game and always had the next splash of homemade wine at the ready, so I strapped in and proceeded with the impromptu flight (some minor turbulence, some Icarian moments, some true high fliers).
Of course, it was during this vino-hued crash-test that a friend decided to introduce me to a fellow wine writer to whom I must have appeared a total lush or – after I breathlessly attempted to explain why it was I had to taste so many wines in such rapid succession – completely unprofessional. I survived both the greeting and the tasting (a dump bucket aided in the latter, which I’m assuming was whisked away for an “amateur sangria” tasting or something) and I was able to continue comporting myself with some sense of dignity since I wore black, which made the wine dribbled on my shirt impossible to detect. Despite my no-show at the tasting, VOMDES, still had me participate as a “celebrity” presenter with friend and food and wine editor Kathleen Hill. We alternated duties opening red envelopes and reading the winners and at some point onstage, I attempted to apologize for having missed the tasting by quipping that I had sent pal and “sommelier to the stars,” Christopher Sawyer, to taste in my stead. When I added that he was my “mentee,” those who know Sawyer and me chuckled since I’ve made it known that he’s the one who educated my palate, or as I like to say, “He’s the sommelier, I’m the star.”
Those who did not know Sawyer and me shifted anxiously in their seats, unnerved by the misperception that I would send a mentee – in their minds a kid from the Sonoma Valley Mentoring Alliance – to a wine tasting.
Ugh. I would never, of course, but the gag died a slow and agonizing death until Kathleen saved me by insisting I give her the envelope, please.
Finally, after dozens of awards were distributed, Hill closed solidly with a heartfelt story of her cousin whose amateur winemaking award received more attention than the Emmy Award also on the mantle. Having no such story myself, I punted: “Though I’m not an amateur winemaker, I am an amateur wine drinker and I salute you all,” which was not entirely accurate, so I needlessly added “Actually, I am a professional wine drinker…” but before I could brag about my laser-etched Lucite plaque that proves it, master of ceremonies Philip Sales mercifully commandeered the microphone.
Regardless, I got the cheap laugh I needed to endear myself to the table of home winemakers who had sneaked in a handsome bottle of Hanzell chardonnay. I’m going to hazard that smuggling non-amateur wine into an amateur winemaker awards ceremony is strictly against VOMDES regulations. But the good-humored group, whose experience at such events was evident in their jovial badinage, apparently knew something about amateur winemaking that I did not. So, I poured myself a glass and deferred, alas, to the professionals.
Related posts:
- The Mayor of Wine Town Writers and booze — it’s a cliche as well-worn as the elbow patches on...
- Nomaville: Misconceptions about Wine Country Living One of the benefits of having a presence on the world wide web is...
- SonomaWino: Sbragia Family Vineyards The term “sommelier,” or “som” as those in the biz like to breezily abbreviate...
- Wine Tech At this point in my wine drinking career, I’ve decided the only technology I...
- Wine Fraud Uncorked A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, unless it’s the bouquet...
Dilettantes Unite.
Let us momentarily transubstantiate ink for wine, so that with these words I may toast the Valley of the Moon Dilettante Enological Society. Clink.
I like these guys, not just because they make wine, but because their name is nearly as pretentious-sounding as my own. I mean, what would it score in Scrabble – infinity? Moreover, they have proved themselves a rather forgiving lot. You see, I missed the amateur wine tasting I was invited to judge prior to their annual awards ceremony at the Vintage House last Friday. Consequently, upon my arrival at the banquet, I felt obliged to conduct my own speed-tasting of the 20 or so wines that were represented. The gent behind the bar was game and always had the next splash of homemade wine at the ready, so I strapped in and proceeded with the impromptu flight (some minor turbulence, some Icarian moments, some true high fliers).
Of course, it was during this vino-hued crash-test that a friend decided to introduce me to a fellow wine writer to whom I must have appeared a total lush or – after I breathlessly attempted to explain why it was I had to taste so many wines in such rapid succession – completely unprofessional. I survived both the greeting and the tasting (a dump bucket aided in the latter, which I’m assuming was whisked away for an “amateur sangria” tasting or something) and I was able to continue comporting myself with some sense of dignity since I wore black, which made the wine dribbled on my shirt impossible to detect. Despite my no-show at the tasting, VOMDES, still had me participate as a “celebrity” presenter with friend and food and wine editor Kathleen Hill. We alternated duties opening red envelopes and reading the winners and at some point onstage, I attempted to apologize for having missed the tasting by quipping that I had sent pal and “sommelier to the stars,” Christopher Sawyer, to taste in my stead. When I added that he was my “mentee,” those who know Sawyer and me chuckled since I’ve made it known that he’s the one who educated my palate, or as I like to say, “He’s the sommelier, I’m the star.”
Those who did not know Sawyer and me shifted anxiously in their seats, unnerved by the misperception that I would send a mentee – in their minds a kid from the Sonoma Valley Mentoring Alliance – to a wine tasting.
Ugh. I would never, of course, but the gag died a slow and agonizing death until Kathleen saved me by insisting I give her the envelope, please.
Finally, after dozens of awards were distributed, Hill closed solidly with a heartfelt story of her cousin whose amateur winemaking award received more attention than the Emmy Award also on the mantle. Having no such story myself, I punted: “Though I’m not an amateur winemaker, I am an amateur wine drinker and I salute you all,” which was not entirely accurate, so I needlessly added “Actually, I am a professional wine drinker…” but before I could brag about my laser-etched Lucite plaque that proves it, master of ceremonies Philip Sales mercifully commandeered the microphone.
Regardless, I got the cheap laugh I needed to endear myself to the table of home winemakers who had sneaked in a handsome bottle of Hanzell chardonnay. I’m going to hazard that smuggling non-amateur wine into an amateur winemaker awards ceremony is strictly against VOMDES regulations. But the good-humored group, whose experience at such events was evident in their jovial badinage, apparently knew something about amateur winemaking that I did not. So, I poured myself a glass and deferred, alas, to the professionals.
Related posts: