At some point during our tasting, possibly as he poured our third wine, I had an epiphany. I know this is going to sound a little strange so bear with me—I realized this winery owner was reminding me of God…

Not too long ago, Tony and I went away for the weekend with our closest friends. We drove up north to the Finger Lakes in New York, to relax, do some hiking, and spend some time together. But we also went to visit some of the many wineries that surround a few of the lakes. The four of us had done this trip before, a couple of years ago, and it felt like we were overdue to come back.

So we left early Friday morning, and reached our destination just after lunch. That afternoon, we took in some beautiful views of Seneca Lake, and did a couple of wine tastings. At each winery we stopped at, we were given a wine list and asked to choose what ones we wanted to try. If you have done wine tastings before, you know, this is how it is usually done. But the following day, we were about to have a wine tasting experience unlike any other.

That Saturday afternoon, after a morning hike to Taughannock Falls, a few winery visits, and a drive around the northern point of one of the lakes, we made our way to a winery we were saving for last. When we arrived, we were asked to follow an attendant through the store and into a room in which four or five tall steel tanks stood in the center. We were lead—not to a bar alongside other tasters—but rather to our own little table, about waste high. In the center was a stainless steal spittoon for pouring out unwanted wine, and that was all.

Moments later, a man who Tony and I recognized from a previous visit to be one of the owners and the agronomist of the vineyard, came over with their wine list. Laying down a long thin white menu in front of each of us, he told us the tasting included five wines, he collected our money, and then disappeared—giving us a chance, we thought, to pick out which wines we wanted to taste.

Then he came back and quickly placed four beautiful, full-sized wine glasses on the table, one  in front of each of us. He stepped over to the side of the room where the wine was being kept, reached for a bottle, and before any of us could say a word, started pouring us each a generous amount for tasting. As he did, he told us he was pouring a 2014 Chardonnay, then he explained:

“I want to have you try some wines that I think you should try first—before I let you tell me what you like.” Then, before walking away, he said with a smile, “I am not completely rude.”

Now, as I said, we had all been to the finger lakes before. Each time, we’d come away with one type of wine that we liked the most. Usually, as the finger lakes are known for their Rieslings, we’d come home with a few bottles to drink sparingly over the next year. However this year, we found ourselves gravitating towards the Chardonnays—and we had tasted some really good ones. But, this Chardonnay—the one he gave us—topped all others. So much so that my friend said:

“This one is my favorite.” 

If this winery owner was trying to sell us just one bottle of wine, he had done it with our first taste. But, he wasn’t finished. He then moved on to their Rieslings—which are known for being some of the best—if not the best—in the Finger Lakes. And at almost each one, my friend continued to say:

“No, this one is my favorite.” 

They all were so good, and so different, it was hard to pick one as your favorite with finality. Though we had tasted some wonderful wines all weekend, this wine was at a whole other level of excellence. And you could tell the winery owner knew it.

At some point during our tasting, possibly as he poured our third wine, I had an epiphany. Sure, you might chalk it up to the wine, but all of a sudden—I know this is going to sound a little strange so bear with me—I realized that this winery owner was reminding me of God.

Please join me next Monday for part two of this story—if anything, so you can find out why this winery owner reminded me of God, and how I am not a heretic when I say this!

 

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