December 9, 2008
The display window is enticing, but so elegant that nothing as mundane as price tags are allowed to mar its perfection. She’ll have to go in. The shop is empty as she ventures inside. The superior man behind the counter asks if he can help her. She immediately feels unsure of herself, and he presses her, asking what food she is planning to serve. “I’m not sure…” she responds. She’s sure he can guess. He suggests a light red, a rosé, and a full-bodied white to cover all possibilities. She pays nervously, anxious to go home and open the bottles.