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| Day of Wine and Noses He sniffs, he swirls, he turns sideways—but will not spit—in a lesson on vino August 23, 2006 I owe a lot to wine. According to reports, it played a major role in my conception. Unfortunately, I’m not much of an expert. When a waiter brings the wine list, I use the time-honored system of “eeny-meeny-miney-mo.” Otherwise you run the risk of waiters raising an eyebrow and making French sounds through their noses. The editors promised that I’d be safe at Bodee’s, a six- or seven-star restaurant in the outback of Ojai. Just follow the Maricopa Highway until you are somewhere near Middle Earth. Bodee’s owner Michele Cromer-Bentivolio lives on a ranch behind the restaurant and picks avocados during her commute. These she hands over to executive chef and man of the hour Christopher Watson. At the wee-lad age of 27, Chris has rubbed spatulas with top chef dignitaries and is personally in charge of everything digested at Bodee’s. He and I conducted research in Bodee’s “fern grotto” (translation: patio), where Chris lined up wines white to red. “So what kind of wine do you like?” asked Chris. “Whatever tastes most like Kool-Aid.” He chuckled as though I were kidding. Chris rinsed with, and spit out, a glass of rose. I myself am principally opposed to spitting out alcohol, so I finished the glass. Think of the starving children. We started with the basics—corking—and would you know that I didn’t hurt anyone? That’s because the first bottle was a screw cap, or as wine snobs call it, a “Stelvin closure.” Really. And they say it with a “Winemakers are moving away from cork,” said Chris,“because bad cork was costingthem one in 12 bottles.” The cork, you see, lets in oxygen, which turns the wine to vinegar, not that we beer drinkers would notice. Chris didn’t care how I held the glass, but if you find yourself in snob-infested patios, just cup the bowl with three fingers. When you do it right, it feels a little naughty.
Chris asked me to swirl the glass, which is where I drew the line. There would be no swirling and no poetic faces. “The swirling,” he said, “opens up the wine. Reds are especially tense out of the bottle.” I was drinking and learning at the same time. Just like college. Chris wedged his nose into the glass the way a linebacker does an oxygen mask. That’s why wine glasses are so big— to fit your snout. Chris said that it helps you shift gears. “Have you ever reached for a glass of iced tea thinking that it’s 7-Up? That’s why we sniff.” Drinking oneself ‘Sideways’ No, no, no. I had come to debate the floral undertones of wine while wearing a monocle. We started with my favorite wine, the “voigner” (pronunciation tip: don’t sound any of the actual letters). Chris pushes voy-NYAY on chardonnay junkies when they want to get crazy. “My job,” says Chris, “is to help you discover your preferences. If you’re into Kool-Aid, do you prefer Sharkleberry Fin or the Great Bluedini?” I held newfound respect for this man. Chris recommends reading “Wine for Dummies” unless, of course, you’re a complete idiot, in which case read “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Wine.” You might also drop by the Ventura Wine Company, whose buyers have great judgment and don’t make French sounds through their noses. We graduated to red wines—the Dark Side—starting with my favorite, the pinot noir. Pinot noir lived in obscurity before the movie “Sideways,” which I am required to mention by state law. “Sideways” is about how scumbag men really aren’t scumbags when you compare them to wine, as you can easily tell by the movie’s title. Tannins and hangovers “The tannins,” said Chris, “can also intensify your hangover.” I verified Chris’ theory the next morning when I found myself sniping at the phone long after it had stopped “This next wine will be your favorite,” said Chris, pouring a sauvignon blanc. “It has a nice, peppery finish.” Pepper is not something I look for in a wine. In fact, it’s not something I look for on my food. Yet this bottle, Rock Rabbit, was the kind of wine that made you skip dinner. It felt almost nutritious. If you do eat, white wines go with white foods (fish, pasta, chicken), and red wines go with red foods (beef, marinara, more red wine). What is the favorite pairing of seven-star gourmet chef Christopher Watson? Peachy Canyon zinfandel and peanut M&Ms. That was my favorite, too, until we tried Rutherford Hill, the house merlot. Merlot is a “dry wine,” which means that if you spill it on your clothes you’ll need dry-cleaning. Quick, poetic consumption “This is not the merlot they’re talking about in ‘Sideways,’ ” said Chris. “It’s good merlot.” I wrestled with my tongue to describe the Bordeaux. Chris had already taken the obvious choice—smoky herbal dusk—so I had to stick with poetic faces. ‘Youngest’ his favorite “We consume so much wine as a society,” said Chris, “that you can hardly find a 6-yearold chardonnay. Most wines are designed to be consumed quickly.” And boy was I consuming quickly. The bottle read “12 percent alcohol by volume,” which had something to do with how loud we were getting. Chris cut me off when I started venting about how Ventura could name one road Telegraph and another road Telephone and HAVE THE TWO INTERSECT. By day’s end, I was not only sideways but upside down and backward. I had, however, learned some things. Whereas my motto on wine used to be “quantity, not quality,” I now feel comfortable walking into any snooty restaurant, looking that French waiter directly in the nose, and ordering my favorite wine—whatever they recommend. |
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