Last night, I was a bit of a nervous wreck, but that is nothing really all that earth shattering. The reason? Well, there was a Napa winemaker coming over for dinner and I had no idea what wines I should serve. I have plenty in the basement, er, I mean ‘cave’ but I had no friggin’ clue which one(s) to chose. I had put my wife in charge of dinner, which is usually my bailiwick, but I was on child pick-up duty, so I would not have time. She told me to “just worry about the wine.” Worry? Check.

Let me back up. I certainly have met a few winemakers over the years, and I would say that I might even be ‘friendly’ with a few of them. One might naturally think, then, that one of my preferred ‘drug pushers’ was in town for business and through relentless pursuit, I…