Please don't be catty: our first wine class

On Wednesday afternoon, we had our first wine class in a small room off of the employees’ cafeteria in the basement of the Ritz. The conditions were not ideal for wine-tasting: the room was dark, the lighting was yellow, and the air was blue with cigarette smoke generated by successions of chambermaids, bellhops and waiters on break.

Our teacher was quite charming. She wore thick burgundy-colored Dior glasses encrusted with matching rhinestones and had plump, sensual lips, reminding me of Marilyn Monroe in Gentleman Prefer Blonds (“Oh, Piggy!”). Maybe it’s good to have sensual lips when you’re tasting wine? I’m sure it can’t hurt.

Every wine-tasting class I’ve taken starts off the same way, with the instructor informing the students that they will not be tasting any wine for at least an hour, until the lecture is almost over. In our case, the announcement inspired a collective sigh of resignation. We’d spent the morning making lamb chops, potato casserole and shellfish pie (see below for some shots of our handiwork), and I think we were looking forward to kicking back a bit. But it was not to be, for we are in France, and wine is serious business here.

The lecture was straightforward; the most interesting part for me was learning that “cat’s pee” or “catty” are legitimate terms for describing certain wines. But that is because I am not a particularly sophisticated person. Throughout the hour, I watched as the girl sitting across from me struggled valiantly to stay awake and failed repeatedly. Her eyes would drop shut, her head would start to droop forward, and just when I thought she’d wind up face-down on the table, she’d jerk awake and recover, only to repeat the process a few seconds later.

We tasted two wines: a 2003 Château de Pibarnon Bandol rosé, and a 2000 Domaine de la Citadelle Côtes du Luberon Cuvée du Gouverneur. I love roses, and this one was tart and crisp and acidic and fresh. But the red really blew me away. It started out rich and smoky and then exploded into ripe berry flavors. Mmmmm.

We tried to employ the technique our teacher used while tasting, but I was unable to replicate her guppy-like mouth maneuvers. It was also the first time I'd watched someone actually use the spit bucket, and I must admit that I found it slightly gross. Between the bucket, the cat's pee and learning about the nasal cavities that help us smell wines' aromas, I was feeling a little queasy about the whole thing.

But one sip of the rosé and I was back on track.


Making a shellfish pie.

The final product.

Lamb chop and potato casserole.

Lamb chop and potato presentation.