Thursday. Eight in the morning, up after a good seven or eight hours sleep, six of us having had our annual Christmas dinner celebration last night in San Francisco, gathering at Harrington's at five and then on to Shanghai 1930, a Chinese restaurant set at the basement level in a building near the Embarcadero in San Francisco. Some of the best if not the best Chinese food I've ever had. Full exotically lit bar with a small three piece jazz group and prices to match. I looked at the wine list. Many many bottles of wine listed in the one to four thousand dollar range, one of them I seem to recall for six.
I have no idea what prices should be these days for a '75 bottle of Latour (I'm not sure how the '75 aged, but I had well over a case of it in my old cellar in the eighties), but two thousand dollars seemed steep. (There was a 1961 Château d'Yquem for 2k as well. Don't remember if I had any of the '61 salted away.) Kinda made me wish I still had my old wine cellar, though. Something to fall back on in your old age if, as we all fear, the economy should disappear.
So our table stuck with exotic cocktails and whiskey neat. I (oh righteous I) kept it to three glasses of Guinness throughout the evening, the head feeling like shit, but the attitude good if a bit crusty, carefully noting the young ladies who were passing: who hangs out on Wednesday nights drinking brightly colored cocktails served in giant v-shaped martini glasses at Shanghai 1930 was my question? Some things are still allowed at my age as long as you keep it sensibly to yourself and don't take too many pictures.
Here it is Christmas and you're talking about the cost of wine. Whining about the wine. Do you detect a disconnect?
Ah, well. It's just I haven't been to a place where they had page after page of wines nobodies like I can afford to buy. Did I mention the food was really good? The jazz trio excellent, a young woman who reminded me a bit of Blossom Dearie when I heard her in San Francisco in the seventies. You haven't heard of Blossom Dearie? Dear oh dearie. You've spent too little of your life lounging in supper clubs, I can tell.
As you have in your own?