I find wine classes about as exciting as watching grapes fermenting. For those of us with an aversion to the academic approach to wine appreciation, the wine dinner, held in the comfort of a friendly restaurant, is a godsend. Wine dinners bring together the talents of the winemaker and the chef and are an invaluable source of information. I do, however, steer clear of elitist wine and food organizations, who spend most of their time fawning over chefs with distinctly arrogant dispositions, and heavy French accents. A good presenter is essential to the success of a wine dinner. A couple of years ago, I attended one at a Philadelphia restaurant. Mid way into the meal my wife prodded me because my snoring was distracting our dining companions. The winemaker was so boring, dinner with an insurance agent would have seemed like the Folies Bergeres in comparison.
Many restaurateurs are under the misconception that a wine dinner is purely and simply the act of marriage between a wine and its betrothed food. That's absolute tripe and onions, it should be considerably more than that. It should, in fact, be a well organized occasion, with each part of the evening's program carefully choreographed. Wine dinners come in a variety of shapes and sizes, ranging from a selection of wines from one specific winery, to a vicissitude of wines from vastly differing origins. Another rendition is the "Famous-Author-Signs-His-Book-During-Dinner" theme. These can be absolutely riveting as long as the author smiles frequently and avoids mumbling to his feet.
If the author is a culinary wizard, the meal will normally recreate some of his or her recipes accompanied by some splendid wines. The cost of the dinner usually includes a copy of the book, which the author will sign at the end of the meal, if he or she is still in a state of sobriety.
I find seven wines and five courses to be just right, anything less - it's not a wine dinner, anything more - a flashing light might appear in your rear view mirror on the way home. By the end of the meal, ties and tongues become loosened, and the final wine is poured and greeted with groans of pleasure as the lusciously heady golden nectar of dessert wine caps off the evening.
Now for a few personal observations: If anyone in the room lights up a cigarette, you have my full permission to pour the Evian over their head, and if a guest arrives drenched in an obnoxious aftershave or perfume, lock them in the rest room until the dinner has ended. Cigarette smoke and overpowering perfumes have no place at a wine dinner and the offenders should be banished instantly. Any restaurateur with the personality of a funeral director should avoid speaking at such engagements, as they tend to contribute little spirited banter to the occasion.
Finally, you anxiously prepare for the arrival of the check and the removal of the little plastic card from your wallet. And then you discover why they are called wine dinners. As you leave the restaurant you wine: "How the heck am I going to afford to pay my American Express bill next month?"
M.F.K. Fisher, probably the greatest food writer of all time, and my idol, prefaced her book "The Gastronomical Me" with a statement which is a succinct commentary on the subject of wine with food: "There is a communion of more than bodies when bread is broken and wine is drunk".
Cheers!
Phillip Silverstone writes and hosts syndicated radio and TV wine features. His book, "Cheers! The World of a Wine-osaur" (Camino Books, $12) is available in bookstores everywhere. Phillip can be reached via e-mail at: winechap@pond.com.