About a foot square, a white ceramic tray lay there in front of each of us, whose nine dimples held tiny portions of fairly commonplace foods. That's a lot of prep for I think 20 participants. At the head of the table a Filipina crew member held forth with one of those machine-gun staccato voices designed for Tagalog. In the session that followed, we were meant to learn food subtleties and wine nuances, and in the process discover which combinations enhance, which contrast, and which, I suppose, destroy.
It was confusing. Two tomato deposits, one with a little pesto added; some smoked fish; olives; hard, mild cheese; roasted chicken; and a too-small bit of brownie.
And five samples of wine, sheesh. You had to be there, if only to pass notes to Eric about how each wine's peculiar features affect the palate. As in many disciplines, of course, one's vocabulary is critical to, well, to managing an otherwise unwieldy situation and getting on with your life. The really good news, here, was that there was not a single pretentious individual among us. Opinionated? Well, of course they were—but also humble about it all. We were all learners.
Or maybe as in my own case, wannabe learners. At any rate, I discovered that I like Pinot Noir a lot less than I always thought I did.
An afterthought that I hope will help (after telling you about this curious, semi-jovial hour of sipping and nibbling and reacting)... if you should bless me with an invitation to dinner, and should you select a wine for the occasion, I promise to love the affection you are demonstrating, and to shower you with praise. And mean it from the bottom of my heart.
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