I had not had white wine for almost 30 years. It was the cheap wine we had in college. It was college, the simple and pleasurable
time when all limits were reached; when there were no limits.
Since then, having white wine seemed to defeat the purpose
of having wine. A rosé is still
acceptable on a hot day in Lisbon. But
white?
… It was a warm day in November. I was leaving from San
Francisco to Taipei . A long trip, but I was looking forward to
it. My life had been a total race for
months and, somehow, being away from email and phone, at 36000 feet in the
clouds felt like a mini vacation!
I placed myself the best I could in the seat, smiled at the
man who was going to be my travel companion for almost a day, then put my
earplugs in to be transported by Silk Road Ghazal music, and then by religious
Gregorian chants. These are my favorites
on long trips- they take me where I have not yet been and I identify with the
moment. Not the past. Not the future. Just the moment, at 360000 feet in the
clouds, over some ocean or snow capped mountain chain.
… There was a decent selection of wines for dinner- a 2004
Tempranillo from the Toro region; a same year Trepiche from Mendoza; and a 2005
Pouilly Fumé Sauvignon Blanc. And then,
I noticed the unthinkable- a 2005 Chablis Champ Royaux! Chablis probably tasting of old mushrooms,
tart fruits and unknown minerals! Chablis
we used to buy by the gallon for cheaper than a hot dog and Coke! Chablis that reminded me of the long and cold
nights of Michigan.
That was 30 years ago, and I had not had Chablis wine
since. Yet, on this pleasant November
day, I was tempted. I wanted to remember
the taste of that wine, as simple as that.
I wanted to live a past time in a no-time zone, somewhere over a vast
ocean or a snow topped mountain range.
The flight attendant was a man in his late 50’s. I am sure he could detect a red wine drinker
from a white one habitué within minutes.
He could even guess how many drinks they will have before putting down a
management or oncology book and try to sleep for a while. He could, I am sure.
So, he came near our row with his little cart and asked:
“The Merlot, the Trepiche or the Spanish Tempranillo?”
Without looking at him, I almost murmured “A glass of
Chablis, please.”
There was a moment of no communication. At least without words. I continued to look away from his eyes (he
also reminded me of the Arabic teacher I had in high school…)
Then, “Did you say Chablis?”
“Yes, a full glass of that very nectar” I tried to joke.
… I stopped the Gregorian chants and dialed into the
in-flight music, channel 12.
“I wished on the moon
for something I never knew” sang B. Holliday. We used to listen to Jazz in Detroit .
We used to drink Signature beer in Detroit . We used to also drink Chablis, which was
cheaper than a hot dog sandwich and a Coke.
… The over steamed mushrooms were there! And the unpleasant minerals! They seemed to have never changed. It was a taste I once knew and now I could
relive within a single sip. Chablis was
college students, and I was not a student anymore. Yet, I recalled that young man, who wanted to
learn so one day he may apply. So that
one day he may teach, to those young man and women ready to learn. Yes, I was that young man again, living for
the unknown, for the moment only.
I do not recall the last time I shut my eyes while taking a
sip of wine. I do not recall when it was
that I kept my eyes shut after swallowing the sip of wine. But I did.
The feeling was intense.
It had nothing to do with the wine.
It had nothing to do with memories.
It was one of those moments when as B. Holliday sang “half-love never appealed to me. If it is love, there is nothing in between.” Well, it was love. Love of what I had learned while I watched 30
years pass by. I recalled buying Chablis
and pipe tobacco on a snowy night in Ann
Arbor . Because
I was writing my dissertation and needed to work into the night. It was Chablis and the first MAC computer
circa 1983! And I thought I had
everything (especially when I had enough wood to keep the fireplace working
overtime…). Perhaps I did. Everything
was not that much, then.
… I practically forgot to eat my “Asian Vegetarian Special
Meal”. And the flight attendant came to
check on me.
“You do not like the meal?”
This time, I looked at him.
And without shame I said:
“I like the Chablis better.”
His facial expression was priceless. Then he regrouped, put on a fake smile and
said:
“It is a special type of wine, isn't it? Has its followers. Almost like a cult.”
Ah! I felt proud to
be a “Chablis Cultist” while over a vast ocean or a snow capped mountain range.
November 17, 2010
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