“Well, shut my mouth!”

Lately, when I’m out in the world, I keep getting this sense that I had when I was a youngster. Namely, to stop talking and let the adults talk.

I was in my Italian store the other day, straightening up the shelf talkers. A young man was in there and he was looking intently at wines. He’d just passed his WSET level 2. He was so proud he told me three times. Bless his heart! His fiancé (which he told me several times and emphasized w/one “e”)  he reported, was encouraging and also proud of him. “Follow your passion!”  

The Stages of a (Wine’s) Life

Rummaging around my wine closet recently, I realized it was turning into a vinous elder hostel. 25% of the wines were 25 years or older, with the oldest one approaching 89 in the fall. With that, I took a stool and sat down and had a little chat with some of the golden agers. I know, it’s a discarded practice these days to sit at the feet of the ancients and glean for any wit and wisdom. But it was a long, hot summer day outside, and the cool dark room of the wine closet was a refreshing change from the tumult of the external world, these days filled with so much hair-trigger melodrama. I figured I had nothing to lose. Boy, was I in for a jolt.