By Joel H. Cohen
NEW YORK — Before we begin, let the record show I’m a Philistine – not one of the old crude, warlike race of Biblical infamy, but the modern style: “disdainful of intellectual or artistic values”
When it comes to food, for instance, I eat a lot but have no or low standards. A meal just has to be free of non-kosher or gluten items and, unless it’s wonderful or terrible, I’ll forget it the next day.
When it comes to wine. I grew up believing that “real” wine had to be very sweet, and any other type was suspect.
Even in recent years. I could happily relate to an episode of Fraser, in which the two brothers, uptight psychiatrists, are expecting a Jewish woman to visit and. to establish their Jewish bona fides, one brother pours vast amounts of sugar into their dry wine.
What prompts my Philistine confession is recent attendance at the 13th Annual Kosher Food and Wine Experience at New York City’s Chelsea Piers, at the Hudson River. There were at least 300 attendees at the afternoon session I attended and, in what could be described as a form of “pier pressure,” something like 1800 at the night-time session.
The event was hosted by Royal Wine Corp. (also known as Kedem), purportedly the world’s largest producer, importer and distributor of kosher wines and spirits. It featured hundreds of wines from Israel and elsewhere around the world, as well as food from leading kosher chefs, caterers, restaurateurs and gourmet specialty companies.
Each visitor was given a souvenir glass goblet (this clumsy Philistine dropped his going home) in which to sample some of thousands of offerings at dozens of tables. There, importers or other representatives stood – literally and figuratively — behind their products, from which visitors could select a sample.
Each table had a pitcher of water for rinsing out visitors’ glasses for sampling at other tables.
A highlight this year was the grand reserve of former pro basketball star Amar’e Stoudemire. If he’d been present, I would have asked him whether grapes for his Israeli wine were crushed in a full-court press. (Philistines make bad jokes).
With wine, Philistines can also be cheap, as I am — a reputation attested to by a longtime friend’s gift of Ripple to me as a birthday gift.
But seriously, and not s matter of reverse snobbery, I could never understand how, say, a $200 bottle of wine could taste 20 times better than a $10 bottle. When I mentioned this to some of the oenophiles (sounds illicit, doesn’t it?), they agreed, essentially saying, “sometimes yes, sometimes no.” One importer remembered being part of a group invited to taste the contents of a bottle valued at thousands of dollars. The contents had turned to vinegar.
Continuing the confessional – Philistines, as noted, are clumsy. For instance, the few times I swished a glass to help the wine “breathe.” whatever that means, I’ve accidentally spilled the contents.
And some of us are not too bright. When people spoke of a wine’s bouquet, this Philistine used to think it meant the appropriate flowers to accompany a gift of wine.
Also, a “good year” to me meant that a war was over, or someone close had recovered from illness, or the cute, but sort of stuck-up, girl across the street reluctantly went to the junior prom with me.
An older wine? As one who’s found that aging seldom equals improvement, I figured it probably had spoiled by then.
`When I confessed at the event that I’d been brought up on sweet wine, and anything else seemed suspect, one importer laughingly said, “If you liked Manishewitz, you’ll love this,” as he handed me some of his sweeter wine.
All in all , the Experience was an experience, and somewhat broadened my wine “nose.” So “under the influence,” in a good way, I’d be happy to share a l’chaim moment with you, with wine of any degree of sweetness or dryness.
But could I keep a packet of sugar handy?
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Humorist Cohen is a freelance writer based in New York City. He may be contacted via joel.cohen@sdjewishworld.com