Monday, May 6, 2019
On the Island of Lost Master Sommeliers
It's been many years since I've been on a wine junket. I can't even remember the last one. I can't even remember the last time I was invited on a free trip anywhere, not counting jail. The same eleven bloggers go on every trip anyway, and, believe me, this is not a good-looking group of humans. Their liver X-rays are even worse. I paid my own way to the Island of Lost Master Sommeliers for this exclusive peek at what happened to the poor souls who were stripped of their MS pins, and what was left of their dignity after the Practical Exam. For the startling exposé, you'll have to jump over to my Home Away From Home timatkin.com. Oh, it's well worth the price.
Feel free to leave your thoughts and witticisms and threats there, or hop the first cargo ship back and bless me with your wisdom.
You can’t find it on a map. Believe me, you don’t want to. It’s one of those God-forsaken places in the world we all do our best as a civilized society to forget. Places like leper colonies, massive Brazilian garbage dumps, death row prisons, and En Primeur week—horrible places populated with the very worst of the unfortunate. You might be able to get in, but, like the inmates, you’re unlikely to get out. There is nothing you can do for those who live there. You can feel sorry for them, but your tears won’t end their exile, their shame, or their struggles with blind tasting. Allow me to take you to the Island of Lost Master Sommeliers.
TIM ATKIN MW