A few of you have emailed me to inquire about the latest episode of Ohmygod. A new month has begun, and normally that means a new installment in the series. While I appreciate your interest, I have some sad news for you perhaps. I have been advised by some people in the wine industry that the ongoing series is a distraction and it diminishes my efforts to be considered a “serious wine writer”.
While I am not entirely sure what that means, I do need to reflect on it a bit and that is why, at least for the time being, I have decided to suspend the series, at least for a while. I might come back to it eventually, perhaps on another site. When (if?) I do, I will certainly let you all know here.
Hopefully, you will continue to follow my blog regardless.
I’m just kidding–all the above was just a joke. Had I done it on April 1st, that would have been too obvious.
I have been working as a cycle tour guide in Europe since September 4th and have not had enough time to work on the next episode. I will hopefully get that time this weekend in Paris, and I plan to publish the next installment on Monday (the day I fly back). Here is an excerpt of this month’s chapter (still subject to editing) to perhaps hold you over in the interim:
About this time, she opened and poured from the first bottle–about an ounce in each glass. Like most producers, the Rogers produced a non-vintage Brut—a wine that is a blend of several vintages (there is not single “year” associated with the wine) and is blended with the goal of producing a consistent wine every year. After she was done pouring, each person took a flute. Except Ohmygod. He seemed paralyzed from the neck down, staring at his glass. Then he would look to me, then Madame, next the bottle, back to his flute. It was a sort of four-way tennis match as this sequence repeated itself in rather rapid succession several times. Clearly, he was confused as to why the glass was not full.
Eventually, he picked up the glass and threw back the 1-2 ounce pour as if it were a whiskey shot. I was waiting for him to turn the glass over and slam it down emphatically as if he were in a western saloon, but instead he delicately set it on the table and gently nudged it forward as to not so subtly announce he needed more.
Madame Roger, to her credit, although a bit taken a back, was not all that fazed. Immediately adopting a posture that Ohmygod seemed to immediately respect, she then repeated the finger wagging that I had experienced earlier. This time, however, the wagging was much more emphatic and accompanied by a scowl that would have frightened even the most precocious child.
Ohmygod dejected, sunk down into his chair. Clearly, this was not his first trip around this block.
The rest will be out Monday (I hope!)….