wine tasting

Wine tasting is an art, I have discovered, that is best explored when you are in a quiet room and can simply enjoy the Italian speech of your host while sipping out of different sized glasses without someone whispering in your ear if there is any more cheese when the bowl has already been emptied on their plate.

I went to a wine tasting last night. Invited by Joanna and her Aunt, I could not help but to accept with a pleasing smile. At five thirty, the five of us (Joanna, Joanna’s Aunt, Joanna’s Aunt’s Friend, Rachel, and I) met at a little corner store just down the street from our apartment called Pozzo Divino. We were greeted by Pino (aka the guy that makes delicious sandwiches) and directed down to the cellar. No joke, it used to be a prison cellar. Here is where we were seated together at one table. The table happen to have four extra seats at it and next to us was an empty table which we were told late guests who fill. Fifteen minutes later, three dashing young men come down the cellar, all smiles and cute in their little button up plaid shirts. I thought to myself, well hey, this is going to be fun, but pretty soon the entire American “party” abroad program came trotting down the steps, loud and obnoxious. Girls with their giggles and similar hair cuts escorting their rich and arrogant grinned parents to sit down. They would not separate, so our group, being courteous and all, decided to take the task in our own hands. We switched seats and forced Joanna along with her Aunt and Friend into a corner, while Rachel and I were immediately surrounded with Gucci bags and perfume.

Being raised by experienced wine drinkers and proper table manners, I was appalled by the way the evening carried on. Food was being stuffed into their mouths like they had never eaten and then it would fall out as they tried to talk at the same time. I sat quietly, desperately trying to listen to what Pino and his translator had to say about the wine we were drinking and the vinegar we were tasting.

 We tried a white wine and two red. I cannot tell you what they were called, because you probably already guessed that the noise level was higher than necessary, but they were local and delicious. I loved going through the process of examining the color/transparency, smelling the flowers and spices each glass contained, and then indulging in the wine’s flavor with different cheeses and meats at hand.

As I did this, I noticed how much my parents know about enjoying wine. The people surrounded me held their glasses like beer mugs and gulped down the wine like kid drinking grape juice. And there was the constant demand for more. My father always pours a little bit into my mother’s class with a smile and say “there is always more.” Meaning, you enjoy what you have, you do not need the entire bottle in one glass. Pace yourself. It also made me think of a little sign we saw in a store this summer while we were traveling Italy. The sign was placed on a table that had a platter of cheese and little glasses to taste local wine. The words on the sign were written large and in blunt English “THIS IS A TEST TASTER- NOT A MEAL. PLEASE THINK OF OTHERS.” We knew instantly of the sort of people to fall victim of eating the entire table, and I think they were all in the cellar with me last night.

My look may have been one of disgust as I watched my fellow table members, but Pino called me the “serious blonde.” This became a nickname that lasted through the rest of the night. He even asked to take a picture with the “serious blonde” and the end of the night. Thus the picture that follows:

Notice my hair around my neck. . . . no that is not a style in Italy. . . yes, it is the look that comes after a few glasses of really good wine. : ) 

Other than the pain in the arse group that yelled in my ear the entire night and ate all my parmesan, I enjoyed it. I know this post may have sounded like a nag… but hey, I have to complain about something when I am in this perfect city, right?

I hope you are having a wonderful Wednesday! Xoxo

Ciao Bellas!