Rubbing Elbows, Stealing Glances

Being in the wine business means constant schmoozing with famous wine personalities as I sip extravagantly expensive and rare vintages from the world’s most obscure appellations. OK, not really.

But on a recent weekend, at a special Burgundy tasting, I rubbed elbows with chief New York Times wine critic Eric Asimov while sitting directly across from Daniel Johnnes. (Yes, that Daniel Johnnes, the highly regarded New York sommelier with the “beeline” wine ejection technique that I chronicled in a previous post.)

It might occur to those of you who religiously follow my blog (I love you too, mom), that this triangular seating arrangement was a bit intimidating for a freshman wine writer who is still hoping to be called up to the big leagues of professional wine spitting.

The seminar featured wines imported by Becky Wasserman (also at the event) who in the late 1960s with two small children in tow, settled into the decidedly male-dominated world of Burgundy, France. I intended to write about her fascinating life story, which includes an allegedly philandering ex-husband (a great collector of fine Burgundy as well as au pairs), her ex-ballerina mother (whose button-sewing capabilities were of great value to Romanée-Conti's co-owner Aubert de Villaine), and a brief, chain-smoking stint selling French oak casks to California winemakers.      

Fortunately for wine lovers, this story ends happily with Wasserman gaining her financial independence by preaching the gospel of the small domaine movement to a receptive buying audience. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Asimov had his notebook out and I was in mortal fear of dribbling on myself under the watchful eyes of Mr. Johnnes.

As luck would have it, Johnnes (who after-all had organized the event) was there to listen to the moderators and therefore had his back to me for most of the session. But Asimov was another matter.

Being decidedly more handsome than his New York Times picture was just the beginning. How, I wondered, does Asimov always manage to strike that characteristic balance of technical and gustatory information and deliver it with such eloquence and wit?

Then, just moments before the tasting began, Asimov leaned over to ask me if I might need some water and proceeded to fill my glass. His friendly demeanor put me instantly at ease. We exchanged a few pleasantries (mostly consisting of my gushing about how much I admire his writing) and I settled into the moment feeling infinitely more relaxed.

Still, I must admit that I couldn’t help at one point indulging in a sideways glance at one of Asimov’s tasting notes. To my delight I discovered it was almost identical to mine. This momentary act of espionage gave me all the reassurance I needed to forget, once and for all, the high-paying job I left behind, and to forge ahead with my life in wine.

Tags: wine