Bobby asked me to post some additional impressions of the night. In particular, he wanted to see if I could “top” Marc F. I thought this was a pretty bold request, since Bobby had asked me to top him just a few nights prior, but after he explained he didn’t mean it in “that way”, I agreed. So grab a beverage and settle down, cause I have a feeling this post is going to be of a length that would even make John Gonzales 
(but with better punctuation and paragraph structure). And just in case y’all think that I’m engaged in an unrequited bromance, let me assure you, the good Cuban pursued me. Perhaps a bit of background is in order…
So let me set the scene…Bobby (née RAlfie) and I have been exchanging PMs and e-mails for over a year (more recently he’s been texting me constantly, like a 16 year old girl obsessed with her first crush) about a host of topics: wine, art, architecture, watches, Frenchie’s jelly tendencies, etc. So, a couple weekends ago the Jade Dragon’s 15yo acts like a major C U Next Tuesday, and I had to lay the smackdown on her ass, which I didn’t really care for, since I’m a pacifist at heart. Anyhoo, I mention this in one of my exchanges with the Havana Hottie, and when I walk into work on Monday I see an email waiting for me. It read:
Subject: Dude
I have a proposal for you. It’s balls ass cold in Chicago. Your stepdaughter is driving you crazy. Grab your little hottie and fly down for the weekend, it’s gorgeous weather here now. I’m having a dinner party on Saturday night, Matt Latouchie and Marc Frontario, and they’re pretty wives, are coming. I’m having a chef do multiple small plate courses. And of course we will be carrying the wines that are the love of your life, Chino. <sic #2> Seriously, grab a cheap ticket to fly down.
This was intriguing. I’m not sure what the thermometer needs to read to be considered “balls ass cold” (the Caribbean Cassanova is obsessed with body parts, particularly on other men, not that I’m judging), but Chicago was no doubt in a deep freeze. My not quite step-daughter was certainly driving me crazy, so why not? I would only find out later that my invitation was primarily extended so that I could grab a bottle of the 1990 Joguet Les Varennes Du Grand Cru from HDH and mule it down to Orlando. Also I would come to learn that Bobby and Marc “I spell my first name like a Hebe” F. made a wager on whether or not I’d make it down. Natch, it was Bobby who thought I’d come through. Per Marc, the Hispaniola Hustler was very excited about the prospect of me coming and was willing to do whatever he needed to make that happen. Apparently, Bobby had so much fun on Saturday that he wants me to come again and again, but I’m getting ahead of myself…
The Big Cuban told me that Tooch would be at this shindig so I gave fair warning to my host-to-be that we might have some issues. The following is an only slightly truncated version of our conversation.
B: Do you hang out with Tooch in Chicago?
C: Not much.
B: Why?
C: Tooch hates me.
B: Does Tooch really hate you?
C : Yes.
B: Why does Tooch hate you?
C: For the same reason everyone hates me. Because I’m an annoying prick.
B: Seriously.
C: I think it started when I was a bit tipsy and asked his wife if he sang “Summer Loving” to get her in the mood for romance. Apparently Matt didn’t think that was appropriate.
B: Don’t be an ass.
C: No promises.
B: Don’t be an ass.
Jade thought I was a bit crazy for heading across the country to see someone I’d never met before and, apparently Bobby’s wife Chris felt the same. It was later relayed to me that she asked, “Why Jew invite that Chicago boy into our home? Jew think he’s going to be well behaved?” I’m pretty sure it was Chris’ idea to send their son Nick to pick us up at the hotel, a sign that she not so secretly hoped for our demise. Amazingly and much to Chris’ dismay, Nick got us to the Alfert home in one piece, the first accident-free trip he’s had in four months.
Now, despite a pen-pal relationship, in which I regularly receive love notes with little hearts drawn over the i’s, I had never met Bobby before, so I had some trepidation that things might be just a wee bit awkward. My concerns quickly melted away when the Big Cuban greeted me at the door with a big hug. I swear I saw fireworks at that moment, but I was jolted to reality when I felt a quick grab of my ass and realized Jade was across the room, talking to Chris. But, as the saying goes, what happens in Orlando, stays in Orlando (until reported on a wine board), so I decided to go with the flow and reciprocated.
And for the second time that evening, fireworks.
So a bit of context is in order. I like drinking wine. I like writing tasting notes (and even brought a small note pad to do so). But sometimes taking tasting notes can be a bit out place and this wasn’t the event to do so. Accordingly, I had more impressions of the wines than I had formal notes, and will only touch on the ones that I can remember the best.
Whites:
We started off with a whole mess of whites and when I tasted the 2010 Edmund Vatan Sancerre Clos la Neore, I couldn’t help thinking of how much I wanted Tooch’s tongue. In my mouth. I mean I want to cut out Tooch’s tongue and surgically implant it in my mouth because his palate is superb. (Tooch was also the person that opened my eyes to French Syrah…my legs remained closed, however.) The Vatan redefined Sauvignon Blanc for me. Crazy minerality and with flavors of white citrus. Bobby said it needs more time, but I think it was in a great place. Yes, it could have gained some complexity but the depth and power elevate the wine and make it a joy to drink, I would hate to see those characteristics tamed by age.
The 2014 Dirty and Rowdy Familiar Blanc was a really fun wine, an assemblage of Chenin Blanc, Semillon, Chardonnay and a couple other varieties and varietals. Nice grapefruit flavors with a hint of florals. The Chard added a bit of body, but this still remained light on the palate. Not crazy serious, but crazy gulpable. Good stuff.
The 2002 Foreau Domaine du Clos Naudin Vouvray Moelleux, was a lovely starter, off-dry and light+ bodied, with notes of honey and muskmelon. This should continue to age for a good while, but not a crime to drink.
The 1993 Olga Raffault Chinon Champ-Chenin was a really strange bird, not unlike Bobby himself (a dodo, perhaps?) Wool/lanolin with underripe green apple and lemon flavors and a healthy dose of acid. Very funky. I found it more interesting than delicious, but I really enjoyed the experience.
The Big Blind:
It was after the whites that Tooch decided to blind us (us being Marc, Bobby and yours truly). fck. I hate blind tastings and now it was my turn to hate on Tooch. Here I was hanging out with some new friends, and I didn’t want to look like a fcking idiot, since the “Chinon and On” theme already had me firmly outside of my comfort zone. I took a sip and immediately thought Cabernet Franc, never once tying it into the theme of the evening. Well Bobby and Marc are throwing out guesses. It’s a blend, it’s old world…I stuck to my guns. Cab Franc, new world. Nailed it. Then Tooch decided that he wanted to make me look bad, so when pressed for the year Bobby suggested 2012, which was the year I also had in my head. I overthought my guess, The tannins were just a bit fuzzy, so I thought it might be early-2000s, but I kept thinking that if this was an older wine that I would have tasted this before. The 1999 Thunder Mountain Cabernet Franc was really f*cking good with dark raspberry and violets with enough acidity/structure to make me think that this isn’t going to fade any time soon. This has lovely fruit, but it is the antithesis of purple drank.
Reds:
Rougeard
I don’t drink much Chinon, but even I know Rougeard. Bobby whipped out a 2003 and 2005 Poyeaux (I’d find out later that he loves whipping things out). Both wines were red-fruited and relatively clean, certainly on the elegant side of Chinon. If the ’03 was Cheryl from accounting, the office flirt who always has her goodies on display, the ’05 was the sexy librarian with her hair up in a bun, but who you know is secretly a party animal. For me, closet freak beats obvious whore any day of the week. The ’03 was the bigger and more flamboyant of the two wines, instantly seductive with gobs of concentrated red fruit. In contrast, the 05 was a bit more reserved and had noticeably more tannic grip. Given the choice, you want to go the distance with the librarian.
Raffaults
The Raffaults were noticeably more rustic that the Rougeard, but not nearly as bretty as I feared. I also found the fruits a bit more dark red shading to purple. I am embarrassed to say that the alcohol started to play tricks on me and the years got somewhat jumbled in my head. The 1977 stuck out as a winner, fully mature, soft, earthy with loam and mushroom along with tobacco and pepper notes. These tastings are fun as all get out, but I really wish I could have spent an entire evening with this wine. Cool stuff.
From Chinon and On and Onto Mouton
Just past midnight, the Florida Fondler was feeling happy. I know this because he kept “accidentally” brushing up against my leg to let me know how happy it was that I made it down. He also mumbled something about wanting me to go down more often. At any rate, 1965 is the Big Cuban’s birth year, but he forgot to tote the bottle of 1965 Moutin Rothschild to his birthday celebration, so the party goers were the recipients of his largesse (and faulty memory). Autumnal leaves, some dried cherry, a touch of spice. This was fully mature and on the downslope, but certainly alive. That’s also how I describe Bobby – on the downslope, but certainly alive. However, he’s not fully mature and I doubt he ever will be.
Desert wines:
1965 Bodegas Toro Albala Don PX Selección – This was liquid brown sugar. You could get a cavity from just looking at this wine. I got two from drinking it.
1995 Foreau Domaine du Clos Naudin Vouvray Moelleux Réserve When Bobby told me the theme, I asked him what I could bring and mentioned I had a couple of older Clos Naudin Moelleux’s. Dude was psyched because the ever so patient Chris loves Vouvray. Well now, here’s the funny part [CONFESSION TIME!]…this is actually the second time I brought this wine to a wine dinner. The first time, I brought it to NYC after clearing it with Georgie Porgie Puddin and Pie. “Do you think this would work?”, said I. “Awesome wine”, said he. Needless to say, when I pulled it out at our dinner in Crooklyn, Suzanne looked over the bottle and said “Vouvray? That’s what Brad Kane drinks” and unceremoniously handed the bottle back to me, rejecting the wine like Manute Bol rejected a layup from Spud Webb – clear into the cheap seats. Needless to say Georgie Porgie said not one word in my defense as the wine bottle made the vinous equivalent of the walk of shame. Well it turns out that Suzanne was a bit hasty because the wine was stellar. Lots of honey, wax, yellow fruit, and a hint of florals with medium+ sweetness balanced by a copious dose of acidity. I really liked this a lot.
2001 Rieussec Big Cuban loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that this wine received dual hundos from the reviewers. So you can add “points” to his whore repertoire. Dark golden color. Extremely concentrated flavors of honey, orange rind and botrytis. The wine suffered from a lack of acidity, so it felt a bit heavy and ponderous…not unlike Bobby himself.
And yet there’s more…
Food
Naturally, Bobby made sure to choose a menu that was hostile to his Fauxsher guest. He hired a couple of local chefs to prepare a 7-course small plate line-up that featured mussels (nope), plantain soup with chorizo spices and chicharon (nope), pork belly (this deserves a special f*ck you to the Cuban, as Jade said it was tremendous). Thankfully the tuna tartare and the ropa vieja made up the dietary snubs.
Art
Incredible. Flat out stunning. I pulled myself away from the guests and was lovingly gazing at the many wonderful paintings in Big Cuban’s home. It’s one thing to see a painting as an avatar; it’s quite another to marvel at it in person. I wanted to move in.
People
For as much as there was wonderful food and drink, this night was made by the people. It is simply impossible for me to express how touched I was by Robert’s warmth and generosity. While I had never corresponded with Marc F. previously, I felt an instant connection with him as well (possibly static cling?), even if he is married to a woman that thinks Oklahoma is best known for its pecan pie (hey, at least she’s pretty). Ivan was great too. Not many men can pull off a velvet jacket in the Orlando sunshine, but he gave it his all. I heard through the grapevine that even Tooch had a good time with me and upgraded his assessment from “hate” to “do not like”. Baby steps.
A wonderful, wonderful evening. My many thanks to everyone who attended and a shoutout to Frenchie too, for without this weird, wacky place, I would not have met so many great people. I am told that he also recently upgraded his assessment from “hate” to “do not like”.
Much love from Chicago,
C-Money
PS
How’d I do Bobby?
![[drinkers.gif]](/uploads/db3686/original/2X/8/82916bed5ad74ac8470bc04089d9758b0c80c9fa.gif "drinkers"){kind=small}
