“So, Gary, what was your favorite wine of the night?”
It was about 11:15 and dinner had been over for about forty-five minutes, but no one had left the table.
Our guests had been drinking water and nibbling on three types of chocolate in a desperate attempt to get back in driving condition before heading home. It was at this point that I thought we should hear which of the nine wines we served were the favorites.
“I liked the Pigato and the Gattinara but the Sforzato kept getting better and better. Maybe that one.”
The dinner was in part my personal graduation exercise after completing a fairly intensive Italian wine class given by the North American Sommelier Association, which is the only United States Sommelier Association affiliated with Associazione Italiana Sommelier, Italy’s premier sommelier society. My wife, Peggy, had talked me into taking the course because of an ever growing interest in Italian wines that took hold after a trip to Tuscany about two years ago.
I'm obsessed with wine bars. Or I guess I should say, finding the perfect wine bar. Every trip we take usually revolves around this odd quirk. However, it was not a priority on this excursion to Chicago. We only had one day in the city and I initially had other plans. Plus, the places I wanted to go were too far away from our hotel. Or so I thought. Traffic ruined my morning itinerary, so we ended up grabbing a quick snack and then just walking along Michigan Avenue window shopping, trying to overcome the minor hangover from the night before. With no thought of wine on my mind what do we come upon? 
We were really happy to sample the new PomWonderful drinks as a prelude to the holiday season. Pom Mango, Pom Hula, Pom Coconut. And since we’re not going away for Christmas this year, it was an excuse to pretend we were lounging under an umbrella on the beach, listening to the waves pound against the shore, and watching the sunset as we tasted the new varieties. (For the record, these were sent to me as samples, but as people who know me know, I don’t always write about the samples that I’m sent, not unless I like them, anyway – those crabcakes shaped like baseballs come to mind...)
The email was very cryptic: “The Blindfold Dinner, April 24, 2012, at Osteria Mamma”. There wasn’t even a time, let alone an explanation. But still, how could we resist? After all, Osteria Mamma is our favorite Italian restaurant and the email is from Filippo, one of Mamma’s two sons who I became friends with first while taking an Italian Wine Specialist course and then from endless dinners at their restaurant. I hit the “reply” key on the email and write “Peggy and I will be there. What time?”