CORKAGE

My parents don’t drink. They don’t like the taste of alcohol, it’s not part of their lives.  I grew up hating the taste of beer, wine, vodka, gin, you name it.  And so I didn’t drink.  Didn’t drink all through high school, all through college, and for several years after college.  (Took plenty of bong hits, though). Then, one evening, I was about 25, my dad was meeting Ernie Glanz, a business associate, for dinner at Ruggerio’s on 23rd St in Chelsea.  Ernie, as a side gig, wrote freelance articles about wine.  My dad invited me to join them.

Ruggerio’s was a clubby, New York Italian steakhouse.  Ruggerio was always there, and made everyone feel at home.  I sat down with my dad and Ernie, we chit chatted, and soon Ruggerio came over with the wine list.

I then watched Ernie do something which I now do all the time, but which then was completely mysterious to me: he dialogued with Ruggerio for 15 minutes about which bottle of wine to order. He probed, he cross-examined, he narrowed it down.  My dad and I watched, bewildered and bored, like we were watching goldfish mate. Finally, Ernie chose a wine, and the wine was brought to our table. 

Ernie literally insisted that I taste the wine.  I say insisted because I tried to refuse about 10 times.  I knew that I did not like wine.  Ernie knew he wanted me to taste it.  Finally, I relented.  I brought the wine to my lips … and my life was changed.  The perfume, the flavors, but most of all, the way the wine felt in my mouth.  The wine caressed my palate.  The wine was lush.

I’ve subsequently heard the story of a famous wine critic who, at like 80 years old, got into a car accident and lost his sense of smell and taste.  Most people figured his career in wine was over.  But no, he continued to “taste” and write about wines based solely on how they felt in his mouth.  Totally.

Anyway, it was not a gradual progression for me.  One sip, and I was born to wine.  Somehow I remember that the wine was a Brunello, although I have no idea of the producer or the vintage. 

After dinner, I walked over to my friend Larry Polsky’s house, he lived in Chelsea, and I shared my epiphany (Larry had been drinking heavily for a decade.)  Larry was stoked. 

I was HIGH.  I didn’t know wine could make you feel this way.  And even in my post-virginal bliss, I recognized a very key element of the joy of wine:  the aesthetic quality of a wine is directly proportional to the quality of the high.  Wine is a unique drug in this respect, and it quickly became, as they say in certain circles, my drug of choice.