Adventures in the Northwest
By Christina Kelly, our columnist and roving reporter

"Good wine, good company
and a pushy waiter"

By Christina Kelly

The waiter arched his eyebrow when I asked whether the restaurant had a very dry, full-bodied red wine at a reasonable price.

Without looking, I knew he would suggest the most expensive bottle on the menu.

"If you want a foreign wine, I suggest the 1994 Ismael Arroyo Val Sotillo
Gran Reserva, from Spain," he said, rolling his rrrrrrrr's to imitate what
he thought was an accent. "This is a full-bodied wine. Actually, it's
massive, but still quite refined."

I had actually tasted this wine before and found it to be massive because
it needed to be cellared a few more years. The bottle I tasted retailed
about $80. At the premium Seattle restaurant where I was about to celebrate my birthday, the price was $160. In mark-up terms, 100 percent was not bad for a place that pushes the price of wine up 200 to 300 percent.

The waiter waited impatiently as I scanned the wine list.

"Have you tasted this wine?" I asked, curious to know if he had any wine knowledge.

"No, but I am told it is a handsome wine and highly recommended for those who want a powerful red wine.

"Would you like something from Washington state? We have a 1998 Merlot from Leonetti Cellar. We think it's one of the best Merlots in the world."

For a bottle of wine that generally sells at $50, the asking price on the
menu was $130. I was getting depressed. Although I wanted to splurge for a good bottle of wine, I knew enough about prices to realize I was getting
gouged.

"Perhaps a bottle of Gallo would be more affordable to your pocketbook,"
the waiter said snidely at my friend Anne, who was chipping in on the wine.

"Don't look at me I don't know anything about wine," Anne protested. "I just can't figure out why anyone would pay three times the amount for a
bottle of wine at a restaurant. I guess it's like when you go to the movies and pay $10 for a bucket of popcorn and a diet soda, huh?"

With that said, the waiter looked aghast that premium wine would be compared to movie popcorn and soda pop. I couldsee he was measuring up Anne, wondering if she collected prints of Elvis on black velvet.

Anne and I decided on fresh salmon for dinner, so I asked about several
Pinot Noirs.

"Just how much do you want to spend?" the waiter asked. "We have Pinot
Noirs, and then we have big Pinot Noirs. You won't spend any less than $25, and you won't get much for that."

We finally settled on the 1998 Chehalem Corral Creek Vineyards Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley in Oregon. Once again, our waiter had not tasted the wine, but snorted when he saw the $65 price tag.

As we settled in for our yearly discussion about our lives, the waiter
brought the wine and poured two big glasses.

"Enjoy," he said as he quickly exited the table.

It was the first time I'd tasted Chehalem wines and I was delighted to
discover a new friend. With the first sip, I tasted a brambly, oak-driven
flavor, full of complexity and style. After a second sip, I decided to let
the wine breathe before tasting it again.

That's when the waiter scurried over and poured more wine into the glass.

"You know, I have a friend who works in Oregon and he raves about their
Pinot Noirs," said the waiter, oblivious to our annoyance. "I am not a
Pinot Noir drinker it has a funky smell when you first open the bottle. In
fact, I prefer white wine big oaky chardonnays. How about you?"

At this point, I could see Anne stare at the waiter, boring into his thick
skull. Her interest in wine tasting was minimal, but she was a New Yorker,
and didn't want to be messed with while enjoying food and company.

"My preference is to enjoy my meal with as little intrusion as possible,"
Anne said. "Thank you."

From that moment on, the waiter lurked in the background. On occasion, I would glance up to see his head stretching around a corner, checking out
our wine glasses and appetizers.

After allowing the wine to sit, I explained to Anne that many good wines
will open up, providing more layers of flavors. The Chehalem expanded
wonderfully, exposing leather and smoke elements with a big cushy mouthfeel.

Just as I sat my glass down, the waiter swooped down to pour more wine,
then quickly disappeared.

"Does he think we're going to order more wine?" Anne asked. "I was in
Europe last year for several weeks, and ate out quite a bit. There is a big
difference in the attitude about service there.

"At the nicer places, the waiter seemed to anticipate what I needed without being in my face. There seemed to be an understanding with minimal conversation. I wasn't there to discuss the waiter's preferences or whether he or she was studying at the local university."

At that point, the waiter brought our food.

"Oh, this is one of my favorites on the menu there's nothing like fresh,
wild salmon," he said, twisting the plate in circles to show off the food.
"We had a poached salmon special last week that went like hotcakes."

The waiter eyed the bottle of wine, calculating whether to ask if we wanted another bottle. You could see him mulling over the thought, glancing
sideways at Anne.

"Just in case you're interested, we do have a special on a California
zinfandel from Forchini it's probably in your price range," he said rapid
fire. "I personally don't like zinfandels but I am told this is a good one,
and it's only $45."

I quietly told the waiter that we were not interested in any more wine. He
left us alone for a few minutes, returning only to ask about our meals.

"Fine" we both responded with a little hostility in our voices.

Anne and I enjoyed the wine down to the last drop. We discussed how we
would make the world a better place if we were in charge. We discussed our feelings about getting older, cursing the body changes as we grew wiser and more experienced.

And, we trashed pushy waiters and over-priced wines. Armed with a good
bottle of wine and a great friend, even an intrusive waiter couldn't spoil
the day.