Wine

Why am I always chosen to order the wine when at dinner with friends?

I don't know, but I am.

I always ask, do you want red or white?

Most people say they want red wine, even though they may want white, knowing white might pair better with what they're having for dinner and that white won't keep them up as late at night as red will, but knowing all this will say they want red wine anyway.

Do you like Pinot, I ask.

I don't ask if they like Cabernet, therefore Cabernet's eliminated immediately.

If they like Pinot, I order Pinot. If not, I go to Syrah or Zin. Italian reds are nice, I know they have to breathe longer than other reds, so if we have time I'll order an Italian red. I avoid French wine when not in France, and when in France and dining with friends I'm never chosen to order the wine.

Last night at dinner at Pisces on Judah, I was asked to order the wine. It was something of a conundrum ordering for Karen and Armond who'd just returned from Morocco, where they'd ridden camels and seen white goats climbing trees, and who are both discerning and value-conscious.

I choose a Syrah, 2008, Girard, Napa. I liked the name, Girard, it looked and sounded real, possibly a family name, and 2008 meant the wine would be whatever the wine was meant to be, good or bad.

When he brought the bottle to our table, Michael, waiter, said it was the last bottle in the cellar.

Armond said the wine was nice. And I kept breathing.

We all agreed we'd return to Pisces, the food was good and the room elegant. It was good having the place almost all to ourselves and to be able to hear what each one of us was saying.