I’ll Drink to That

I’ll Drink to That

Christening ship cartoonThink About It. I’ll Drink to That. Count me among those who cringe every time a ship is christened with an attempt to smash a bottle of Champagne. On occasion when it fails I feel it has received a reprieve and should be saved for its intended purpose.  Unfortunately the boat bashing continues until the shattered glass and shameless spray dribble unceremoniously down the bow of the ill-fated USS Ignominious. Bad enough the affront to the magnificent vessel, but oh the loss of Sunday’s true “breakfast of champions”.

My good fortune came at age 21 during the Korean Conflict (not war?). My number drawn, drafted, trained as a Cryptographer with a Top Secret clearance, I happily headed for France. My most carefully guarded secret was enciphering the order of a case of scotch for a Captain in my small NATO outfit. It seemed I could serve my country better by providing homesick troops free-time snacks, entertainment and an occasional visit to the Folies Bergere and Paris night clubs. So I did.

My first taste of the bubbly was served by Perle Mesta when I took a group of soldiers to Luxembourg for one of her celebrated soirees. Known as “the hostess with the mostest”, the inspiration for the Broadway show Call Me Madam, the Ambassador was independently wealthy and had acquired very good taste, for beverages at least. Long after returning to a sort of real life of radio and growing family, that nose tickle and gentle, but distinctive taste happened again.

Fast forward twenty-five years to Santa Barbara, California. Like France, it was my dream world. This time it was real estate related business, radio, television with rounds of parties and beverages that go with the territory. To produce more net-profit for charity fundraisers, the hosts usually served Le Domaine. This night in the Biltmore ballroom was different. Tired of the usual sparkling wine, I thought I’d have a gin and tonic since I don’t really like the drink and would imbibe less. Fortunately I changed my mind.

Tasting the bar’s offering, a memory flashed. Small bubbles that seemed to stick to the side of the traditional round-bottomed glass permitted more of the scent and tiny explosions to reach the nose, better than today’s flutes. According to legend, the coupe was designed using a mould of Marie Antoinette’s left breast as a birthday present to her husband, Louis XVI. When asked what the attendant was pouring, I was referred to the host, Sir Daniel Donohue. The well-known patron of the arts and prolific philanthropist has a list of knighthoods and papal honors much too long to print here. It’s wonderful how wealth and position permit extraordinary eccentricity. In his lavishly stylish green velvet suit, the honorable gentleman nonchalantly responded, “Oh, it’s Dom Perignon.” Perhaps my second taste. Not my last.

Sparkling wine can be almost any fermented grape not grown in the Champagne region of France. Dom Perignon is Champagne. I’ll Drink to That. Think About It.

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