AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Love me some Syrah!” says the gentleman who’s been talking about Syrah all afternoon.
“You’ll definitely feel the Syrah in this blend,” I say.
“Does this blend mimic the northern Rhône or the southern Rhône?” he asks.
“That’s an excellent question. Châteauneuf-du-Pape comes from the southern Rhône region of France. Red wines from the northern Rhône area are made with mostly Syrah, so I imagine you would love them. Some of them are very age-worthy, such as Hermitage. Southern Rhône blends tend to be more drinkable when they’re younger. We age this wine in stainless-steel barrels for at least two years before bottling.”
Ashley takes the lead and pours the wine into another set of clean goblets. She begins to distribute them.
“Let’s start with color,” I say. “Ashley guided you through the color of the Cab Franc. Do you see any differences in this wine?”
“Is it called Ruby because of its color?” Katie asks.
“No. If you look closely, it’s darker than a Ruby. My uncle named it after his wife.”
“It’s beautiful,” a woman says. “Like a clear garnet.”
“Definitely,” says someone else. “I don’t think it’s lighter than the Cab Franc, just a slightly different hue.”
“Swirl it around in the glass,” I say. “Does the color coat the sides of the glass?”
“Maybe very slightly,” the man who likes Syrah says. “Just the slightest tinge of pink.”
“Let’s go ahead and check out the nose,” I say. “What scents are you getting?”
“It smells…red,” Katie says.
“Colors don’t have smells,” someone huffs.
“Oh, they can,” Ashley says. “Do you have synesthesia, Katie?”
“Cinnamon what?” Katie asks.
Ashley doesn’t laugh, which surprises me. Instead, “Synesthesia is a condition some people are born with where the senses cross. For example, I have synesthesia. For me, sounds have colors, and sometimes, colors have sound. Others with synesthesia see letters and numbers and colors. And though it’s rare, for some, smells have colors. Do smells have colors for you?”
“I don’t really understand,” Katie says.
“Then you probably don’t have synesthesia.” Ashley smiles. “Which means, when you say this wine smells red, you’re thinking of something else red that you’re smelling. What might that be?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe another red wine? The one we just smelled?”
“To a novice,” Ashley says, “red wines can smell similar. Our job here is to help you discern the differences.”
“Ashley’s right,” I say, expecting to feel reluctant about it but instead feeling a sense of pride. I’m proud of her. “Think about the aromas you associated with the Cab Franc. Do you smell them here?”
“Cherry,” a woman says.
“Excellent.” I smile. “This wine definitely has cherries on the nose. Anything else?”
“Spice? Like cloves, maybe?”
“Very good.” I nod. “Cinnamon, cloves, allspice. All very common fragrances with Rhône blends. Try digging a little deeper. Anything else?”
“I’m getting a little bit of cardamom,” says the man who likes Syrah.
Ashley nods. “I’m getting that as well.”
“Haven’t you tasted this wine before?” he asks.
“I haven’t. I just started my internship today.”
“Really? You did an amazing job with the tasting.”
Her cheeks pink slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Anything else? If not, we’ll move on to taste.” I swirl my glass once more. “Take a sip, and as Ashley instructed you earlier, let it sit on your tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.”
“Oh, it’s delicious,” the woman says.
“Yes,” someone else says. “It’s completely different from the Cab Franc. I love them both, though. I’m not sure I could say which one I like better.”
“I like the Cab Franc better.” Katie beams at me.
I give her a tense smile. From her facial expressions, I can tell that the only wine she’s truly liked so far is the Fuji apple. That’s the only one she committed to buying. She’s trying to get my attention, and she thinks stroking my ego is the key.
I steal another glance at Ashley. She’s darting daggers at Katie with her eyes.
I hold back a chuckle. Katie is no competition for Ashley. I’ve already made up my mind who I want.
The only problem? I have no business bringing a bright light like Ashley White into my darkness.
Chapter Forty-One
Ashley
Once we’re done tasting all four wines, a few other employees come in and take orders from the customers. Katie purchases a whole case of the apple, and, surprise of surprises, a whole case of the Cab Franc, Dale’s wine.
I’d bet my weight in gold she can’t tell a Cab Franc from a Concord grape, but what the hell? It’s a sale, and I’m pleased. Sort of.
Syrah man, whose name turns out to be Levi Jones, orders two cases of the Cab Franc and a case each of the Ruby and fine Cabernet Sauvignon.
As an employee writes up his order, I smile at him.
“I’m surprised you’re going for more of the Franc than the Ruby. The Syrah notes are very apparent in the blend.”
“I have a ton of Syrah in my wine cellar,” he says. “You’ve definitely expanded my horizons today. This is the most interesting wine I’ve tasted in a long time.”
