Humiliated By a Punk Wanna-be Sommelier

My wife and I recently visited a nice Italian restaurant for lunch as a break from our busy and fruitful (that’s what my wife said it was, anyway) shopping excursion. I decided to splurge, take my jolly-old time, and thoughtfully choose a wine I hadn’t yet tried. On the wine menu I saw the following word:

Chianti.

I had wanted to try a Chianti for a quite a while now. And there it was in front of me—waiting like a dog in front of its master’s door, wagging its tail in eager anticipation of a walk in the park. I have a soft spot for cute dogs and Chianti, so I couldn’t resist.

When our server came to the table—sporting studded earpieces hanging from both his ear lobes and wild, wacky hair on his head—I asked if I could try the Chianti. Only, I made a dreadful error—perhaps the most humiliating error I have ever committed (besides the time I let a beat-up, clunker Jeep Wrangler pass me on the highway). I said “Chianti.” Only I pronounced it “Shē än`tē.” Ooooohhhhhh, nnnnnnnooooooo. How mortifying! Talk about a size 20 boot in the mouth.

The even more disastrous part was that I didn’t catch my own mistake. Period. I just proceeded to finish spouting off the rest of my order. Then, Mr. I’m-a-punk-wanna-be-sommelier-and-I-am-so-stinking-smart-and-giddy-to-
show-off-my-extensive-vino-knowledge-to-you-because-obviously-you-
don’t-know-anything-about-what-you’re-talking-about-when-it-comes-to-wine spoke up. “Actually, sir, it is pronounced ‘Kē än`tē.’”

I sat there, my face twisted with jealous frustration and degrading dejection. This young wine-whippersnapper had just “one-upped” me, a wine “expert.” What on earth?! How dare him!

But, after my initial envious reaction, I realized that I owed him.

It was thoughtful of this server to correct me, however degrading it may have been. He could have been a real jerk, let me think I knew how “Chianti” was pronounced, and just went on his merry way, all the while laughing behind my back at my obvious ignorance (okay, maybe he did this last part, but that’s beside the point). I could have gone to a party with some friends who really know their wines (and know me), and been the laughingstock of the entire evening. Thanks to my waiter friend, this didn’t happen.

That server and I became a bit more cordial as the dinner progressed. We chatted some more about wine. I appreciated his expertise in wine linguistics, and he learned to appreciate mine in wine history and geography (as I explained the history of Chianti wine, where it comes from, why it’s called “Chianti”, etc.). I gave him a fairly hefty tip. And I went home with another wine nugget to store up in my treasure chest mind.

There are two morals to this story. First, be willing to accept criticism from anyone when it comes to wine. Have an open, humble, teachable mindset. You just might learn something new. Second, study the pronunciation of wines. Get to know how it should be said. Don’t be cocky and think it doesn’t matter. It does. If you refuse to change your ways, I guarantee you’ll be the laughingstock at some wine social event in the near future.

Get to know the wine, but also get to know the culture of that wine. Where does it come from? Italy, France, Argentina, Chile? How do they pronounce it? Is the American way to pronounce it different? Why? Study. Dig deep. Be eager as a beaver to get the facts. Maybe you’ll be able to gently correct someone else’s wine knowledge. And then, believe me, you’ll feel like a champ.