My aspiring connoisseurships do funny things to my body chemistry.

There's the tea; I do feel caffeine. And there's wine. It is just registering that I now have free and legal rein of the alcohol world. Like, if I feel like getting a bottle of wine, I can just get it! No worries. That is weird. I just bought a couple bottles yesterday.

Now, when I speak of connoisseurship, I don't mean professorship; I don't intend to know enough to teach a class on it. I just mean, I want to know distinctions and preferences. I want to have some favorite wineries, and maybe a shelf of some bottles I'm holding. And I would like to know how to savor teas, and brew an excellent cup for me and my friends. To know the personalities of teas and, again, have my favorites. My connoisseurship only extends so far as to give me and mine a rich experience.

This little I know about myself: In reds, I prefer Zinfandel first, Shiraz second, over Cabernet S. or Merlot. I prefer wines that are not very 'dry'. In whites, I like Riesling and Gewurtztraminer. In desserts, I like a good Muscat.

I love the Robert Mondavi Winery. Robert Mondavi was one of the pioneers of the Napa Valley wineries, and their wine is still consistently the best. He funded the huge viticulture research center at University of California, Davis, which is the foremost institution of its kind in the world.

AHHH! California Rocks! It is so cool! (punching motions in the air) The fact that Californians become among the best at whetever it is they freakin' decide to do is a source of unending pride for me. Wherever there is good wine, there is wine from Napa Valley and Sonoma County.

Yeah, you know all those pedigreed French wines? Well, they were all but wiped out by a blight in the sixties. Guess from where they had to import disease-resistant vines? Guess where 90% of French wines claim their true roots? Yeah that's right. Napa. Valley. C-A.

Whew. That aside, my love affair with R Mondavi goes way back. To when I wasted nary a thought on alcoholic beverages. I guess I was ten or twelve. My parents--they're not drinkers, nor are they connoisseurs, but they like a nice wine now and then. They had a Robert Mondavi Muscato D'Oro (it was called) that they let me try one night after dinner. Golden. It was heaven. It was drinkable beauty. I had but a few sips. Luckily for me, they never finished a bottle right off the bat, so they stored the rest in the basement fridge. It lasted for a long time. And every now and then, when the mood struck me that I deserved paradise, I would sneak a couple sips, no more. From the bottle, I admit, but I didn't know any better, and I didn't want to leave evidence. I think my parents knew that I loved it with a non-alcoholic passion, and so let it stay there as my personal treat. Of course, I couldn't very well finish the bottle, so once it got down to like, a quarter (from a half), they polished it off.

I thank the heavens for such positive and open first experiences with wine. When we were tiny, my family used to go on day outings to Napa Valley. We'd tour a couple wineries; there was a magic about the cool cellars and racks of bottles that overcame the boredom of the blah blah blah. The adults would taste and buy, while my sister and cousins would poke around the shops, and then we'd picnic with sandwiches from home on sunny expanses of grass--the large stone buildings behind us, trees and vines around us, people flying kites and dogs running.

Yes.

6:06 p.m. 2004-02-22�