I have told the story on this forum several times: how on a lark, before my wife and I could abide nothing but Bordeaux, I ordered a large cross-appellation, mixed-case sampling of 1997 Bordeaux en primeur, after reading that we would be able to compare the large horizontal tasting upon release.
Prior to that, we drank almost everything, such as wines from all over the world, gin and beer. We drank as much for the effect of alcohol as for taste – and not at all for any intellectual or spiritual purpose. Like a lot of people, we used wine and spirits as a social lubricant, joining other people to imbibe and jabber.
Shortly after my wife’s and my first sip of 1997 Grand Puy Lacoste, the first bottle we opened from the big shipment, we ceased drinking anything but Bordeaux. Still, on occasion, in the beginning of the shape-shift and before realizing what was happening, we bought bottles from elsewhere, such as 1996 Cinq Cepages, but followed with gag reflexes, until we realized we were narrowly confined.
An externality of this self-imposed imprisonment was the abrupt cessation of social contact, since nobody we knew drank Bordeaux. We couldn’t serve Bordeaux to guests nor be served Bordeaux in other homes. On top of that, we began to commune with our wine so that the presence of infidels only detracted from our experience. We stopped socializing altogether. Other than attending a couple of Bordeaux wine dinners, I can’t remember going out to dinner with, being at anybody’s home or having anybody in ours for years – other than obligatory family or very occasional people in the context of work events. (100% of my social contact now is limited to this forum and one person with whom I share emails, hence my liberty of expression here.)
While on a recent business trip to Pittsburgh with a young woman associate, which I wrote up on this forum, with “The Form Bitch” in the subject title, I stopped in a wine store. The woman asked me to pick out a wine for her husband, whose nickname is “The Pope.” I said it was too bad there was no Pape Clement. Later she searched local wine stores here in Albany, New York for the Pope wine, to no avail; so she bought another Bordeaux that was recommended by the store clerk.
The Form Lady told me at the office yesterday that she liked the Bordeaux so much that she has been going back to the store and purchasing other Bordeaux, while her husband has stuck with Merlot, since he didn’t take to the backward quality of Bordeaux. She said there was a certain wonderful quality in the Bordeaux that wasn’t exactly taste, but she didn’t know how to describe it. I’m going to invite the couple to dinner, but I haven’t yet figured out how to convince my wife.