We started with a Riesling. A 2002 Müllheimer Kirchenpfad from the Rheingau. A pleasant drop. Rich, warm. Reminiscent of summer days in the Alsace region of France. Hints of berries. A small suggestion of honey in the aftertaste. His nostrils moved appreciatively as he savoured the aroma before helping himself to the first nip.
Our second bottle was the from the same small winery of south western Germany. This time a 2001. More powerful than the first wine it brought a woody taste with it. One that could hold its own against the onslaught of a meat dish. A brief sniff was all that was needed before it gained his approval and the taste hit the tongue.
Oh no! Before the evening has ended we have run out of wine! A hosting catastrophe. I will never be able to hold my head up in polite European society! But wait, what´s this? A bottle, hidden at the back. A local speciality. An acquired taste. The famed Apple Wine of Frankfurt.
Cautiously I uncork the bottle, pouring the first glass quietly. I introduce it´s uniqueness, the unusual aspect of being able to sample this on an evening in Berlin. I pass it across for approval. Barely has the scent reached his nose before he turns his head away. He won´t even sample the flavours of this working class drink. He turns his nose up at the common.
My dog the fucking wine connoisseur.