It was day 2 of Toast 2006, the wine festival by Wine Depot, which was being held at the Rockwell Tent. Oberon asked me to accompany him to the event at the last minute and only because the friends he was supposed to go with bailed that morning. Given that I used to make fun of his fondness for wine, I really don’t blame him. “I don’t drink vinegar,” I replied everytime he’d ask me to a wine tasting.

Of course, I was just covering up for my lack of wine knowledge. When it comes to wine, I’m — how do I say this delicately — an utter moron. I’m not completely embarassing in restaurants, being able to pronounce Merlot and Shiraz and whatever fairly well, but that’s only because I’ve seen too many episodes of Frasier. My attitude towards wine is simple: if it’s yummy, I’ll drink it. So when confronted with a roomful of the best wines in town, all of them up for tasting, I .. well, you know.

Unfortunately, it was Oberon who got delightfully tipsy first. “AG, am I walking criss-cross already?” he asked, during our fourth lap around the room*. I was eloquent in my reply — “Mmmm..mumble.. mumble,” I said, my mouth full of feta cheese and grapes.

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