Over the years I’ve found that wine geeks like me can amuse ourselves in the most unlikely places.
Earlier this week I was flying out of Washington, D.C.’s Reagan National Airport on a bleak afternoon with flurries of mixed sleet and snow. I had a couple of hours to kill when I happened upon a wine bar, Cibo, inside the airport.
Just about every restaurant that pours wine by the glass now fancies itself a wine bar, so I wasn’t expecting much when I wandered in and sat down for lunch.
I ordered steamed mussels as a starter, to be followed by pancetta-wrapped prawns. (Does anyone remember the day when the best you could do in an airport was a rubbery hot dog?)
I glanced at the wine list and settled on a Nobilo Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. Not bad, I thought. As I continued to peruse the wines behind the bar, I noticed a Sancerre from Pascal Jolivet. Wow.
A glass of the Jolivet later I spied a Domaine Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet. The bottle was open. I explained to the woman behind the bar that I was sorely tempted to order the Leflaive, but I wondered how long ago that cork had been pulled.
My heart sank when she said a couple of days. “I’ll pour you a taste and you can see if it’s OK,” she said sweetly. “And if it isn’t, I would be happy to open a new bottle.”
Hardly an offer I could refuse, so I went for it. The wine was fine and I was a happy camper, knowing the next eight hours of travel wouldn’t present anything nearly as delicious.
I walked down to the gate sated and satisfied, and wondered to myself why all wine bar experiences couldn’t be as gratifying — and I’m not only talking about the superb wines, but the exceptional customer service.
It’s food for thought.
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