Laughing At Life: Wine is bottled poetry

I never really drank in high school. I may have had a sip or two of wine that an uncle had brought to dinner, but that was it. It wasn't until I was twenty and attending summer school in Paris that I started drinking. While I was there I learned to appreciate wine. Kind of hard not to when you're visiting the regions wines are named after. Since then I've had good wine, just nothing like I had last week.

My favorite tour guide and I were invited to his roommate's birthday dinner last Tuesday. The roommate is half Japanese, and his father is this adorable tiny Japanese man who can cook native Hawaiian dishes. The food was all made from scratch and utterly fantastic. Best out of all he prepared was the best duck I've had since I was served it at Chateau Chenonceau. That is the only dish whose name I can remember. Well, that and the incredible chocolate cake, but who is going to forget that?

As wonderful as the food was, the wine was better. It started off with champagne that tasted great even thought it was brut. After that we had merlots, cabernets, and a pinot noir that smelled so good I wanted to eat the air. Our host was so delighted that he had guests that appreciated wine he kept bringing out different bottles. We didn't get drunk. Those of us that weren't driving may have gotten a tad fuzzy, but that's it. Our host only poured enough to be appreciated each time.

The pièce de résistance was the port that was served with dessert. I've never had it before, so I was given a crash course. Just like with wine there are a number of different types. Unlike with wine, the different types are an indicator of quality. The top of the line is vintage port, and one of the absolutely best years is 1977. That's the year the roommate was born, which is why the host had a bottle of it. He purchased it that year and kept it for his son's 30th birthday.

All in all dinner was wonderful.