This is the chapter where the sufferer, Leah (for now), meets her brother at a bar. He is a jazz musician as plays a set. After the music they sit down and talk. They talk about wine – old world vs. new world. The sense of place, terrior. People are losing their “terrior”.


It was 8:00 p.m. and Leah decided to go downtown. She first called up her girlfriends and told them to meet her at the Musician’s Place, a wine bar that had frequent musical groups performing shows. Tonight was a special night for Leah because her brother, Michael, was playing the gig. He was a tenor saxophonist and leader of a small jazz combo. Mike was tall, over six feet, and thin. He had black hair just like his sister and was svelte. Whether that was due to his shared genetics or the jazz musician’s lifestyle could be debated but, either way, he was very much like his sister. That is, until you met him.
As Mike’s combo began their set, Leah sat down at a table in the center of the room. Her place in the room and way that she sat, almost a swooping motion, made it clear she wanted to be seen. Leah had always been the center of attention and knew what to do in order to be noticed. As if to confirm that fact, a waiter came immediately to her table.

“What can I get for you?” asked the waiter.
“I’ll need a minute.” she said without looking at him.

Oddly, Leah didn’t need any extra time; she would order a very particular bottle of wine for her friends who were soon to arrive. Leah glanced through the menu for one reason. She liked to look at the entire menu even though she could recite the whole thing backwards. A regular patron of Musician’s Place, there was no need for Leah to do this, but she did it anyway. Leah enjoyed looking through menus and wine lists thoroughly. She didn’t know why this might be the case, but she in enjoyed the task nonetheless.

The band started to play so Leah looked up and caught the eyes of her brother. There was no love lost between them ever since she has stopped talking to their parents. She had been distant because the divorce. It was a nasty and brutish affair. Her parents had loved Tom, her former husband, and she resented that fact. To Leah, it looked like they loved him more than they did her which hurt immensely. It hurt even more than the divorce that had pulled her through the mud, taken her money, and stolen her sanity for a year. Her parents wished for a son like Tom who was handsome, talented, and caring. They merely tolerated their own flesh and blood. However, Leah didn’t spare but a moment on this thought. To her thinking, she would forget a whole season of her life and thereby free herself from the pain that she lived with.

Leah sat with her head in her hands as she watched the band play. They performed a dizzyingly fast Bebop tune. Her brother, Mike, seemed to soar through the air with flurries of notes coming from his saxophone. He had always been talented and was wonderful on stage. The music reminded Leah of a time when they were children. They had both gone to a summer jazz camp and Mike was able to wow the teachers and counselors with his playing. They said he sounded twice his age and couldn’t think of much to criticize. Leah, on the other hand, was not so gifted. She played the trumpet and couldn’t do many of things Mike could. She jealous of his talent, but knew he was destined for different things. She breathed a sigh and continued to watch her brother, the jazz musician. After the song ended her brother came to the mic to say a few words.

“That was “Salt Peanuts”. Thanks for coming to our show I hope you enjoy our next number. It’s an original written by our guitarist called “Paradigm Shift”.

The band started in with a flurry of notes but quickly slowed down. They moved together flawlessly proving Mike had made them practice this song many times. Leah was reminded of the many strange and interesting song she played on trumpet. She had quit after high school but still remembered most of the songs she played. A slight twinge of regret hit Leah as she wondered what might have been different if she had continued to play trumpet. The song continued and she suddenly remembered her drink order. Leah eyed the waiter who was standing on the other end of the room. He immediately moved towards her table.
“Château Pétrus 2000”, Leah said dismissively as the waiter approached the table.
“Certainly Miss”, stuttered the waiter.
He was shocked. She had not missed a beat as he came near her table and had proven her capacity to order the best of wines. The waiter, who was obviously new to the Musician’s Place, would certainly remember her next time. It didn’t matter the occasion; she would always act to leave an impression. It was a command over every situation that she wanted. Leah loved control and she longed to demonstrate it whenever possible.

Suddenly her friends arrived.

“Oh, hey guys. I’m so glad you could make it.” She said quickly and without purpose. “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered us something to drink. You all like wine so I’m assuming you will love my decision.”
“Oh, we always love whatever you chose. You’re the wine expert” said Jean.

Jean was the spokesperson of the group and usually made all of the conversation with Leah. Though four people, Leah, Jean, Rachel, and Faith, were present, in reality Leah and Jean did most of the talking. Rachel and Faith did most of the paying.

“I’d like to try a quick game”, said Leah.
“Oh I love your games”, replied Jean
“I’m going to wait for the wine to come and, barring any faults in the wine, we’ll see if you can guess vintage, place, or winemaker.”
“We’ll do our best Leah.”
“Before we start, I’ll give you a hint: it’s red.”
“Oh, that’s a big help”
“O.K., here’s the real hint: it’s French.”
“Hmm...” Jean looked at her other friends who gave no help, “Get ready to be amazed. You know I’m an expert in the wines of Burgundy, Bordeaux, and the Rhone.”
“Oh sure, don’t you mean Vin de Pays?”

They all laughed nervously. Jean nodded in approval then Rachel and Faith turned to watch the band. They knew when to speak and when to wait. Leah made it clear what they were to do and they followed blindly.
“Ok, here’s your chance to shine Jean”, said Leah as the wine arrived.
The red liquid slid from the mouth of the bottle and made a small pool in Leah’s glass. As the one who ordered the wine she was entitled to rule on the quality of the bottle’s contents. Was it spoiled, corked, or damaged? She could turn the waiter away and not pay for this bottle of wine if she decided. Leah liked that power, and with a sniff she nodded in approval. She didn’t need to sip the wine, and, in glorious fashion, she cast judgment down upon it. Leah looked to her companions and waited as they too sniffed the contents of their glasses.

“Well… it smells wonderful no matter who made it”, smiled Faith
“You’re on the right track.” Replied Leah as she eyed Rachel for a response
“I smell caramel.” said Rachel
“blackberries, tobacco, and licorice” shouted Jean.
“Great! Now take a sip” said Leah.
“Umm… it tastes smooth. It’s almost like velvet, but still has a real black tea component.” said Jean who had taken over the response duties as Rachel and Farah listened intently.
“So what is it?” asked Leah as she leaned in closely.
“Is it a right bank Bordeaux?” asked Jean quzzically.
Shocked, Leah nodded in approval. Jean had really improved in her wine tasting ability, but she certainly didn’t want to show her too much satisfaction. Leah looked straight into Jean’s eyes and asked, “Now… who is the producer?”
“Château Pétrus?”
“and the year?”
“1985?”
“No… it’s 2000.”

Leah breathed a sigh of relief. Jean was very good, but she could not be allowed to guess correctly. If she had guessed the wine, the entire group hierarchy would be turned upside-down and Leah needed to be in charge. Therefore, the night was saved. Leah and her friends sipped the glorious wine as they listened to her brother play. They talked, drank, laughed, and sighed as the night went on. Leah ordered a few more wines. These were more obscure, cheaper wines that still deserved drinking, but wouldn’t rack up more on the already hefty bill. Leah had decided a long time ago that she would open with a big wine and allow the girls to get tipsy from it and then follow with some less pedigreed wines since they were unlikely to notice the quality anyhow. She knew the game to play and played it well.

“Well girls,” said Leah, “I think it’s almost the end of the night so I’ll say goodbye. I must speak with Mike before the end of the night. Otherwise, what was the point of coming out?”
“You’re right”, said Jean, “We should get going too.”
“I’m so glad you all came”, said Leah as she glanced at each of her friends making sure to pause and make eye contact with each one.
“We’ll see you soon Leah. Oh, and we’ll cover the bill,” said Rachel.
“I love you all so much”, remarked Leah. However, her look said something much different. Rachel was not supposed to speak even if it was to graciously pay for the drinks. These were rules to their friendship; only Jean was to be the speaker for the group. Leah had made her group of friends on purpose. They were to follow her lead. That way Leah might control their actions, lead them as a whole, and find satisfaction in having friends who will do what she asks at the appropriate time. Too many friends had been unreliable in the past and Leah had decided to take control.
Two more songs later, Mike ended his set and packed up his instrument. Leah and her friends had finished all but the last two glasses of some Australian Shiraz. Her brother was even more into wine than she was and Leah wanted his opinion on her choice. It might not have been the like the first wine, but Leah never had a wine than she didn’t deem worthy of imbibing.
“Hi Mike”
“Hi Leah”
“Thanks for coming out.”
“Yeah, I love your music.”
“Thanks.”

There was an awkward silence

“So, I’ve got two more glasses of this wine.” said Leah hurriedly.
“For old time’s sake?”
“I wish you would.”
Mike swirled his glass in the air an eyed the contents with a critical eye. He sniffed the contents if the glass and thought for a while. Deep in thought, he swirled and moved the wine again checking for color and density. He watched the little “legs” form on the side after he swirled the liquid. Mike sniffed the glass again
“Red fruit, oak, vanilla, cedar box,” Mike listed off the qualities he found in the smell of the wine. He took a sip.“Mmm… more oak on the taste, some blueberries, and soft tannins. I can tell by the style its new world and very oaky so my guess is a Penfolds Shiraz.”
“Wow Mike. You always get it dead on.”
“Thanks Sis.”
“Well, it’s just incredible, I’m certain you have improved since I saw you last.”
“Since the divorce.”
“Yeah” muttered Leah. It had been years since the divorce and she hadn’t seen anyone from her family in the intervening years. Why had she chosen this time to come out? Leah shuddered as the she realized that the family she once knew was foreign to her. “It’s been a while.”

“Leah, can I talk to you about something?”
“Yeah”
“It’s pretty random but follow me for a minute.”
“Sure.”
“I’ve been thinking lately about the old world vs. new world issue in wine.”
“Go on.”
“We see all of these over extracted, over produced wines across the globe. They have too much oak and too much alcohol, and I can’t help worrying about the future of wine.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely! These over-done wines have hit the world market and appeal to an international style. It appeals to people on an individual level; we all love richness and high alcohol, but where is the sense of place? We want… no, need an identity of place in everything and wine is no exception. Wine must express terrior, the identity of the earth. I should taste the slate and limestone that the grapes were grown on. I should taste the hot summer or the rain in the fall for better or worse, and then the wine will express individuality. You see, only when wine expresses the community of things that surround it can it be true to its terrior. In this way wine is very much like people. We need a sense of place or community to make us who we are. People can find individuality within the things that surround them. Without that human terrior we end up as overdone and out of place people. In other words, we lose that which makes us ourselves.”

“Leah replied “I happen to enjoy these ‘new world’ wines and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that? If it’s in the glass and smells and tastes like wine then how is it not wine?”
“But Leah the terrior”
“I could care less about this sense of place and your stolen French vocabulary. It’s just an opportunity to excuse poorly made, thin wines.”
“You can’t believe that. I know for a fact you’ve had many great wines from Burgundy, Bordeaux, California, Germany, and the list goes on. You know a great wine when you see it and what makes it great?”
“Ok, I see your pint there, but what about your little ‘human terrior’ idea? I refuse to believe that it is our surrounding that makes us who we are. I make the decisions in my life and, though others might affect me somewhat, I’m still my own person. My actions, emotions, and thoughts could be virtually the same here or back home with Mom and Dad.”
A smile crossed Mike’s face, “You’ve certainly changed, but I can still rope you into a philosophical discussion.”
She returned the smile and said, “And you haven’t changed a bit. You still think the same way and your solos still sound stiff and uninspired.”
“Hey! That hurts.”
“Well, you deserved it.”
“Never make fun of a man’s profession and never make fun of a musician’s ability.”
“Oh sure, I can’t criticize you, but you’ve got free reign to say whatever you wish?”
After looking at each other for a moment they burst into laughter. This was the first time in a while that they could joke together and it was good to ease the tension. Leah was never good at setting other people at ease, but she knew when the air was cleared. They talked for a little while longer about work, friends, and old times, and then said their goodbyes. Leah was happy to see Mike, but for some reason felt that this was the last time they would speak to each other. She was going places, and there was no need to be held back by a need for terrior.