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That’s right: you, not me. Hey, you think this is service journalism or something?

Oh sure, you probably think that you’re going to learn stuff here. Like: what wine to buy when wasabi-encrusted emu loin is on the menu. Why that cabernet sauvignon you loved so much at the store tastes so horrible with your sainted Aunt Luisa’s tomato sauce. Or maybe even how the heck to pronounce “Condrieu” without sounding like you’re choking on your own tongue. And sure, I might opine on those subjects, and many more as well. Though maybe not so much with the emu…

And perhaps you think that a stuff@night wine column is likely to work its way through the seedy, corkscrew-wielding underbelly of Boston’s restaurant scene, exposing the movers, the shakers, the poseurs and the drunkards to the harsh light of eleven-point Times New Roman. It’s true that I’ll be talking to some of these people, learning what they know and maybe even getting them to reveal where the bottles are buried. But I’d prefer to avoid the poseurs, movers tend to spill their wine, and shakers are for diluting martinis. Let’s stick with the drunkards, shall we? They’re more fun anyway.

So what else do you think you’re going to read here? Late-breaking exposés on the scandalous intersection of wine and commerce? Why, for instance, a bottle of wine can cost $27 just across the border in Nashua, but tally a staggering $44 in Boston? (And, even then, why you might still want to save yourself the gas and buy it here?) Well, maybe you’ll see that sort of information, but care must be exercised, because the liquor business can be kinda rough. Wine columnists may see the world through rosé-colored glasses, but we do prefer that our kneecaps remain intact, thank you very much.

What about themes? You want themes? You think that, just because an issue is all about, say, guys (yeah, there’s an underserved minority), that there will be some sort of categorical submission to the motif? That the column will probably be about…oh, I dunno, wines made by guys? Wines made from guys? (Ew.) What, do you think I plan this thing more than a few hours ahead or something? I’m lucky to get any typing done at all, what with all the noshing on emu loin and scampering away from angry, billy club-wielding wine salesmen.

OK, OK, there might be a theme now and again. So sue me. I’m a slave to the Zeitgeist.

Inexplicably, you might figure that a wine column is going to be about, you know, wine. Yummy, low-alcohol rieslings for ice-bucket quaffing on a hot summer night. Which of the zillion and one Chiantis are actually worth buying, and why the ones in the straw baskets make fine low-budget candle holders. Why Champagne – the real thing, that is – costs so damned much, and whether or not any of it is actually worth it. A final answer to that long-simmering debate about the difference between Pouilly-Fumé and Pouilly-Fuissé. (Wait, that’s only at my house? Hmph.) Anyway: yeah, sure, I can promise some of that sort of thing as well. I’m not completely self-absorbed, you know. (Hey, do these parentheses make my hips look fat?)

So, getting back to the original idea of what you can do for a wine column…what, you thought I was Mr. Short Attention Span or something?...or, more precisely, what you can do for me…

See? Not self-absorbed at all!

It’s not that complicated, really. First of all, you’ll need to approach all of this with an open mind. And, even better, an open mouth. (Otherwise, the wine spills on your shirt, and that’s just not cool.) This column will do some wading in the shallows, but occasionally it’s going to paddle out to the more turbulent, shark-infested depths. Come on in, the, uh, metaphorical water’s fine! And if I can manage to rein in these analogies just a bit, we all might learn some things about wine in the process. Or at least have some fun with it.

At the same time, it would be very helpful to hear from all of you. What do you want to read? Do you have any wine questions that are burning a hole in wherever it is that you keep your wine questions? Am I telling you what you need to know? Leading you astray? Confusing you with complicated parenthetical phrases and syntactical chicanery that only I find amusing? Asking too many questions? Let me know!

And as for the perfect wine pairing for wasabi-encrusted emu loin? I really don’t know. Do emus even have loins?

(First published in stuff@night, 2007.)