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By Sylvia Jansen, Sommelier( ISG, CMS), CSW secret service
Four of us tripped in off the dark street through the doors of Berry Brothers & Rudd on St. James’ s Street in central London. It was ten minutes before closing at the historic wine shop, but this was our only opportunity to visit, so we wanted to make the most of it. I had a few questions, and I was looking for a wine or two. Despite the clock ticking, the staff person— a reserved, smartly dressed man in his forties— dealt with us graciously.
He gave us a brief history, from its start in 1698; an interesting artifact was a framed letter on the wall from the White Star Line, apologizing that 69 cases of their wine had gone down with the Titanic. We talked about wine. I was after an inexpensive wine, and was also searching out a particular small Champagne producer. He helped me with the first, and about that Champagne, yes, they had two. We chatted. One was in a price range I was expecting for a good Champagne, about $ 60 Canadian, and the other was about twice the price. Hmm, I thought. Probably more than I should spend.
Not hearing the conversation in my head, he explained the differences and asked which one I might like. Despite the fact that I really wanted the more expensive one, I asked for the other.“ Absolutely.” He drew it from the shelf and began the invoice. As he was doing that I asked,“ So, is the other one really that good?” He paused, as though we had all the time in the world.“ Well,” he said quietly,“ it is quite something.” He re-explained its taste profile and its rarity. At that moment, the extravagant wine geek inside me took over from the responsible one. I had him swap up for the one I really wanted in the first place. When we left, it was after six.
The Champagne was divine. I was glad it was not part of what went down in the Titanic.
A week later, in the town of Troyes in southern Champagne, I came across another wine shop, a small stone building across from the big cathedral. The main floor display had single bottles, stacked wood crates, and a doorway that led to uneven stone stairs and a poorly lit basement. You knew the basement existed only if you asked about something not on display, but the culture of the shop was to greet customers and learn about their likes and dislikes. With the staff person’ s help I bought some affordable wines; it was my friend who asked about an expensive one. We trundled down the stairs and talked over bottles in the dim light. I left the shop with only the inexpensive wines. Close to an hour later, after a glass of wine and a conversation, I walked back into the shop. The staff person greeted me with,“ So, you have been thinking about your Corton Charlemagne?”
My secret agenda when travelling is to find interesting wines and wine shops. I am also on an even more secret agenda: I want to know how, and how well, wine shops serve their customers.
Wine is a distinct commodity, part agriculture, part commercial; it is partly about taste and partly about experience. And no one knows everything. But staff who know their wines, and who take the time to understand their customers, can help them find their ideal wine. The secret is in the service.
So here’ s to you, secretly. �
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