Gauging the responses to last week’s giveaway post, I believe we’re suffering from collective high winexiety. I had an attack on Thursday.
My college roommates crossed the Hudson by ferry to join me for dinner at Union restaurant (I believe this was the start of a Ferry Supper Club, with alternating dinners in Haverstraw and Ossining.). We asked for a table on the patio since it was one of the few warm nights we’ve had this spring. The waiter asked for our drink orders; 3 of us wanted the Malbec, so my friend suggested a bottle. When the waitress returned, she asked for a taster. They pointed to me with a swiftness that made me quite nervous. If we were to get hauled in for police questioning, I now know they’d rat me out in a NY minute. I gulped and nodded. The waitress showed me the label of the Tilia Malbec. I nodded. She turned her back and I heard the unmistakeable hiss as the screw top was released. At that moment, I relaxed and smiled as I sipped the proffered taste.
The wine was fine; dinner was delicious. And the company? Excellent. Would a “better” wine have improved the night? I certainly don’t think so.
