Grocery store Gallo hearty Burgundy in a squat screw-capped green bottle from low on the shelf: I tried it as undergrad at Oklahoma State in the 80s, probably with rice-a-roni and chicken, the only thing I knew how to cook. I remember that I liked the taste of wine with food…and had a head-splitting hangover the next day.
We were into backpacking then, and part of any good trip to the New Mexico Pecos wilderness was for each of us (underage) intrepids to fill a plastic canteen with wine. Most backpacking food then was rehydrated glop du stroganoff or…wait for it…rice-a-roni. But, Gunga Din-like we all schlepped the ingredients for one special, impractically weighty and utterly UN-backpacking-like meal for three days in when the packs weighed heavy and we were sick of noodles. One time it was frozen lobster tails, but usually it was fluffy omelettes, whipped into an airy froth by a mentor (he was all of 27). He had a teeny-tiny whisk and strong opinions about chilling the eggs first in a cold running stream.
I remember sitting in mountain meadows, enjoying a simple perfect omelette filled with oozing Cracker Barrel sharp cheddar, a bit of onion and chopped Vienna sausages. We’d sip our wine and felt like kings.
The joy and freedom of those quiet moments made memorable by a shared quest, anticipation and a good meal stayed with me-now I’m the guy with the whisk.
Steve, your backpacking stories reminded me of a trip high in the Rocky Mountains near Silverton, CO. In the summer of 1976 my buddy and I shared a bottle of 1972 Clos du Val Cabernet, which was their first release. I think we had it with spaghetti, under a sky full of a zillion stars.
I also have memories to grabbing Dubouef Beauj Nouveau for more than one picnic in the woods around Ithaca New York in the Fall. I remember the wine seemed a bit sharp ( this would have been ~ 86 or so) but I had it in my head that wine+woods=goodness.
Something about the outdoors that calls for a crusty baguette, some hard cheese, and your sweetheart there to share it.
Does Manischewitz for Passover count? If not, a 187 ml bottle of Beaujolais on the train from Lucerne to Paris in 1967. They put one in every boxed lunch, regardless of age.
Back in 1971, my Dad had been transferred to Paris to work on an engineering project and I was headed to college. Prior to their going to France, we didn’t have wine in the house. Dad drank an occasional beer and Mom liked Gin & Tonics. After four months in Paris, my Dad’s project got cancelled and my parent headed back to the Bay Area. When I came home for Christmas, Mom pulls out a bottle of Riesling from some new producer she had discovered - Robert Mondavi, and we had wine with dinner! From then on, wine was on the table at dinner. I still can’t believe the transformation caused by four months in Paris.
I was at some sort of Catholic Church event. I think if I remember it had something to do with my aunt (who was a nun). Getting communion my dad let me try a sip of the wine. I tasted it, immediately ran out the doors and found a water fountain, stuck my tongue out and washed out every ounce of the taste. My dad laughed.
Years later, one of my dad’s friends started dating a winemaker. They would come over and she would do what they called, “Sunday school”. The winemaker would teach my parents and her boyfriend about wine and they’d hang out.
Thankfully he ended up marrying her (ten years ago today I think) and she still makes great wine to this day.
