What Can You Drink for $3,000?

I have tasted wine that costs three grand per bottle. It happened for me last weekend. This is a life experience I did not anticipate. I have absolutely no idea why any bottle of wine would cost three thousand dollars, but this one did, and I got two glasses out of it.
This was after sharing two bottles of French wine that were on the wine list at 500 bucks a pop. Again, this is something I never aspired to do, but it’s one of those things; if the opportunity presents itself, you live the moment.
I’ll leave out some of the details for the sake of propriety, but let’s just say all of this happened far from any traditional cultural or culinary Mecca. I had occasion to visit an ordinary mid-sized U.S. city on a routine matter. I anticipated staying in a non-descript hotel for one night, possibly two. I fully expected to spend somewhere around twenty bucks for dinner, then to wake up and have “continental breakfast” at the hotel using plastic utensils and Styrofoam cups.
Somewhere on the road, my traveling companion’s phone rang and a dinner invitation followed in short order. I was dozing or something and missed this piece of news. When we arrived in AnyCity USA, I was told we would be meeting a couple of Fellow Traveler’s friends. Before I knew what hit me, I was whisked into a restaurant which one of the friends owns.
The menu was high-end. Chef and the boys quickly gathered ‘round the boss and started fawning. The Boss, obviously hoping to impress his visitors, had a bottle of Burgundy brought forth. It had French words on the label with hyphens and accent marks. Suddenly, it was open and one of the guys was swirling some of the wine about in his glass and sniffing it like that guy in the movie “Sideways.” The wine was deemed acceptable. A discreet glance at the price list revealed all those hyphens and accent marks add up to $500.00. The wine was excellent, and I would have said that if I hadn’t known the price. It was also gone rather quickly, and another bottle just like it magically appeared and opened just as suddenly. Soon, all of that wine was gone and we hadn’t even gotten to the salads yet.
So, there I sat with one acquaintance and two strangers. Despite this circumstance which ordinarily I would find quite uncomfortable, I was having a fabulous time. More wine, this time from California, made its way to our table. I personally had consumed what I estimate to be about 750 dollars worth of fine wine before I ever got near my pasta and shrimp appetizer. This may be the only time in my life I will be able to truthfully construct that sentence.
The Boss and his high-rolling buddy obviously know this restaurant well. Chef and the Boys were told just to “bring us whatever you think is good tonight.” They did, and it was. Clearly, a significant amount of high-end intoxicants had been consumed, and The Boss was feeling convivial. He invited the dinner party of four to his house for after-dinner (you guessed it) wine.
The Fabulous Manor of The Boss, of course, has a wine cellar. Traveling Companion, Boss and Boss’s Buddy apparently are wine connoisseurs. They regaled one another about their vineyard conquests and one-upped one another with knowledge. It was all very entertaining, to be honest. Finally, The Boss lovingly cradled a bottle of white wine which he asserts was purchased for three thousand dollars. The Other Two nodded their assent, and I hung in there. Again suddenly, there was opening afoot. I have to tell you, there’s pressure in consuming a glass of wine poured from a bottle that purportedly costs three grand. You certainly don’t want to break the glass. You don’t want to spill a drop. You don’t want to shotgun it, do you? Sipping appropriately while staying in touch with my own manliness, I enjoyed the experience.
How do you thank someone who provided you about 1500 bucks’ worth of beverages in one night? Carefully and graciously, that’s how. I think I did okay. The four of us got back together again the next day, so something must have gone right. That time, I just had soup and salad at a restaurant that looked something like a Bennigan’s or a Friday’s, and the bill was about fifteen bucks.
Everything was back to normal, or so it seemed. The food was above average at best and the ice tea was a little weak, a meal you would expect in an ordinary mid-sized U.S. city you’re visiting on a routine matter.

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