Rating: NNNNN
I always likes a trip to the Metro Toronto Convention Centre. Tells me what the outside world is up to. In the north building they?re all in Cancer Management. From overpass to the south, there?s a view below into a male fantasyland. Flashy cars with big stereo (quad?) speakers. Driving in the house.
Over the turtle terrazzo and down. Sorry, I must pass up the Miss Chinese Canada pageant. I’m here for the Food and Wine Expo and “the most revolutionary wine seminar on the planet,” Billy Munnelly’s Wine By Mood, sold out at $65. Volunteers are carefully pouring exact shots into four glasses of white and five of red at 90 place settings for this Tutored Tasting.
The typical frumpish Canadian crowd forms a lineup. Poncho-counting was the game a coupla years ago. Now it’s scarf loopers. Suddenly everyone’s got the Paris scarf method with their faux pashminas and other wrong scarves. Lots of brown and black. When did so many women start wearing witch-pointy stilettos and denim bell bottoms? When will they stop? You can drink all the wine you like, but élan est une autre chose.
“I drink for a living – no days off,’ Billy Munnelly introduces himself. He believes wine shops of the future will be organized by mood, not country.
Sip white wine #1 and number #2 consecutively. Repeat. Feel and Experience the wine: “Identify as Fresh, Nice or Rich. If this wine were a style of music what would it be? Rock, jazz, country, disco, pop, classical? Consider another analogy, such as style of car, a celebrity or lover.”
Wine like cars? I guess they could both kill me. The “old way” was based on information and learning. In the “new way,” feelings take precedence over knowledge.
“I can see myself having this wine place/mood, time of day/season, company, possible food partner.’ There is no “I can see myself having this wine – if there’s nothing else on offer.’
We’ve had an $11.45 Vieille Ferme and a $14.95 Wolf Blass Riesling. Comments are starting to flow.
People want to use their imaginations. A woman says the #2 wine is like “a pinch on the bum in the subway.” There are a lot of fireplace scenarios.
Our little mood-wine conference is an oasis holiday compared to the wider scene where 1,000 exhibitors are flogging food, drinks and trips to the southern states to many, many thousands of young drivers on a night out. They look like drivers. I hope not. How late does the GO train run?
I am standing dazed and dinged by hordes and eating snacks off the sake bar wondering what it will be like at throwing-out (and -up) time here at this supermassive suburban (three escalators down) singles’ bar.
A uniformed policeman keeps eying me. He’s right. I don’t belong here. Maybe Miss Chinese Canada will let me in.
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