I certainly wasn't raised to be this way.My parents didn't really drink much when my brothers and I were growing up. Every year during the holidays, my dad, a dentist, would receive liquor baskets from patients and colleagues that would sit untouched in the basement (they still managed to disappear over the years. I swear my house must have been haunted.)
In high school, we drank Bud Ice-- I think it had a higher ABV, though still shared the lovely flavor of watered-down piss with its uncle and cousin. In college, we would buy the plastic bottles of vodka and mix vats of "punch" in garbage cans.
After college, the means may have changed, though the end remained the same: I favored microbrews over Bud Ice, but I still drank to feel the effects instead of understand the process.
Then I started moonlighting at a friend's restaurant, hostessing, a couple of nights a week. Kristin, the owner and wine and beverage director, has won multiple awards of excellence from Wine Spectator. I loved the way it sounded when she said, "Chateauneuf du Pape," but never bothered to learn what it meant.
That lost opportunity wasn't to be found in Indianapolis. There, I worked at a fine-dining restaurant owned by a celebrity chef. The GM's prior relevant experience consisted of running the cafe at Nordstrom and the self-appointed "head waiter" conveniently combined "syrah" and "shiraz" into one handy word-- "shirah."
And then I came to New York. At the interview for my first job, as a bartender in Manhattan, I couldn't tell my interviewer what the base liquor was in a manhattan. I still managed to snag the job. I credit my red pants. And Pete.
I learned how to make cosmos and margaritas and the type of martini that is really just a big-ass glass of vodka, but my learning plateaued-- my benchmark being the Real Housewives of New York (Ramona sings the praises of Pinot Grigio. Enough said.)
And then I somehow stumbled my way into one of the best restaurants in the city (again, I credit Pete), with, more importantly, one of the best sommeliers in the city, whose taste in funky, earthy, sometimes dirty wine that remains balanced and elegant is right up my alley, along with one of the best mixologists in the city (the aforementioned Pete), whose skill at balancing unique flavors in a cocktail is matched by his creativity in incorporating seasonal ingredients.
Now, here I am, a snob. I am insufferable at times. My family, whose sweet tooth skews toward California cabs and pinots--not my glass of wine-- will attest. Sometimes I judge people who order grey goose cosmos as I sip on my negroni.
Really, this snobbery is the emblem of a newbie with much more to learn. And I intend to share that knowledge here, even if I'm the only one who reads it.
Welcome. I came. I drank. I conquered. Enjoy.
