A year ago on our first trip to Japan we stumbled across this newly opened wine tasting room within walking distance of an apartment we were considering moving into. That day had been crushingly hot and the air conditioned, non-smoking establishment, with the added seduction of wine, was a welcomed respite from our canvasing of the potential neighborhood. We enjoyed a very small plate of very tasty cheese with some strikingly delicious wine, served in minute pours in Riedel glasses, from unbelievably, the Napa Valley. I took this as a sign that this apartment was obviously the right choice for us.
And here a year later, that same wine tasting establishment, the very one in walking distance from our apartment, was hosting a party to commemorate their one year anniversary. At first I balked. Well, actually I kind of whined. You see this weekend is 4th of July weekend. I know it doesn't mean anything here. But I was feeling kind of melancholy. Back in L.A. 4th of July is a big deal for us. It's America's Independence day, and more personally, it's Lobster Fest. For almost ten years we've hosted Lobster Fest on the 4th of July. We fly in Lobsters from Maine for a group of our friends. The boys steam them and grill corn on cob, while the girls drink. Then after dinner, we all go out on our boat to watch the fireworks shimmer off Los Alamitos bay.
This will be the first time we haven't done that and I was feeling kind of sad. The last thing I wanted to do was go to some over-priced, pretentious wine function where our $225 entry fee would buy us five pours that eventually equate to one glass, where guests would flock like crows on road kill for the few morsels of passed hors d'oeuvres, and where above all, we would be the only expats in a sea of unfriendly locals, or worse, in a sea of pretentious, unfriendly expats.
But finally I succumbed, after all it was in walking distance, and I did make Russell swear he would take me out for some real food and a lot more wine if we didn't get enough. I rationalized, I guess the good news is, since we don't speak the language, we wouldn't have to endure the insufferable "wine connoisseur". There's always one of those in every wine crowd. You know the guy, affected and opinionated, who thinks they know everything about wine and looks down their nose at you if you admit to liking, gulp, merlot. That is... if you can get a word in edgewise. That's why Russell and I have adopted the "wine enthusiast" axiom, not the "connoisseur" idiom. For God sakes we started out drinking box wine and we still have friends who remember.
We had an amazing time at the party.
There were about one hundred people there and they were all Japanese, except for us. We got there early, before the actual party had begun. This enabled us to get the few seats in the room, next to the VIP section. The wine started flowing. They served their rose first. It was refreshing enough to make you crave more. Soon my glass was empty and I was giving Russell that I-told-you-we-wouldn't-get- enough-wine look, when the exceedingly nice lady who greeted us and took our money at the front door, came over to pour us another glass. Now, we're getting somewhere.
A half hour later there was a toast. More rose was poured. We couldn't understand a word of the speech until the end when he said, "kampai!". For some reason we seem to know every country's word for "drink up". By this time all the seats had been filled except one on each side of us. Why is this always the case. Do we smell funny? I suggested Russell move over to the empty seat on my right so the couple next to us could both sit down.
This random act of kindness and the fact the sauvignon blanc was being poured must have been the turning point for soon we were having a pleasant conversation with the couple we gave the empty seat to. Turns out the wife is a senior sommelier and has traveled the world extensively in pursuit of the grape. We discussed several of our favorite wine destinations. She had been to all the wine regions we had and more. She had even visited the tiny family owned boutique champagnery, Tarlant, in Champagne, France. How amazing is that?! She even remembered their little dog.
The husband was exceedingly droll and kept peppering the conversation with sardonic quips. After an hour of wine talk he leaned over chummily and told me his wife is quite drunk and won't remember anything tomorrow. He pointed out she's a sommelier but can't handle her liquor - he seemed quite amused with this contradiction. She must have been more than just a senior sommelier because the paid photographer took her picture and when the man himself, Mr. Kenzo Tsujimoto and his wife showed up, they went right up to her like they knew her and she was beneficent enough to introduce us. We were very flattered and just a little intimidated. Mr. Kenzo and his wife were so gracious to us. They had literally just arrived from the airport after flying in from California and it was Mrs. Kenzo's birthday. I felt like an honored guest even though they must have been thinking, who let these gaijin in here? Mr. Kenzo noticed my glass was empty, nodded to a hovering staff member, and instantly I had more wine. It's nice to be a billionaire.
Too soon, however, our sommelier friend had to go. Turns out they had dinner reservations at Appia restaurant nearby. Another coincidence; we had just gone by there earlier that day and thought about making a reservation. How strange would that have been? We would have looked like stalkers. As they said their farewells they handed us a bag with a bottle of Kenzo Estate wine in it. We couldn't believe it. How nice! We didn't know what to say other than let's get together soon. They were great fun. For the first time since coming to Japan I actually met somebody I really liked and wanted to see again.
I don't know if it was because Mr. Kenzo himself had talked to us or because the guests were on their third or fourth glass of wine but after that we met a lot of people. We felt like the shiny new object in the room. Russell ended up talking to a young woman and her husband who work in television, while I met a baker. A baker!
Not only was he a baker, but his bakeries are "American style" designed after Amish baking. Amish? This was growing more surreal by the minute. How many glasses had I had? "I'm sorry did you say you make Amish brownies", I stammered? He explained how he had lived with an Amish family for a few days in order to learn how to bake like them. I thought he was teasing me. I don't know any American's who can say that, much less Japanese. And I don't know what an Amish style brownie is either but I'm definitely willing to try one. That and his nectarine pie.
After the baker, I started a conversation with a Japanese woman about her dress which I liked. We got to talking and soon discovered she works for the Bellagio resort in Las Vegas. She introduced us to one of her clients, a very successful corporate construction guy with a penchant for fine wine. Apparently he builds shopping centers. When I commented that Kenzo Estate's wine maker was also the wine maker for "Screaming Eagle, he nonchalantly mentioned he had several bottles and we should open a bottle together some time. I almost fainted. OK! Really??! Can we go now?! And I thought the baker was teasing me with Amish brownies. Screaming Eagle?! WOW. His friend from MGM backed him up. "Oh yeah, he's got a lot of wine." And I have a lot of jewelry but nothing from Harry Winston.
The construction guy was actually really nice. When I commented on the fan he was using to cool himself off, he gave it to me. He wouldn't take it back so in return I gave him one of the two mood rings I was wearing. I didn't know what else to do. What is the deal with giving gifts to total strangers? The only gift Russell and I want is to make some friends here.
Russell and I left the party ecstatically happy. Finally we had met some people we really liked, who seemed to have a lot in common with us, aside from owning a winery or bakeries or building multi-million dollar malls in Vegas. They all seemed to be wine enthusiasts like us and seemed interested in seeing us again. I felt I should manage our expectations and heed the warning one of my friends had given me before I moved to Tokyo. He said to be wary of the "shiny new object syndrome".
He warned, we may be befriended by a Japanese person, courted intensely and then dropped like a hot potato just when we thought we were really friends. Apparently fans are a lot cheaper than friendship.
We'll see. I just sent invitations to everyone we met. Well except for Kenzo.
Congratulatory flowers in front of the shop.
More flowers.
Bottles of wine on display,.
More flowers.
The chairman and the enthusiast.
"Shiny new object syndrome" is so real, even in the US. I battle against being on the bad end of that, myself. I've definitely been a hot potato a few times.
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