🍷 Whisper in the Cellar — Lafayette Edition (A-List Experience)
The thing about “private tastings” is that they sound polite until you walk in and realize no one’s behaving.
The sign outside said Members Only. Being on the A-List seemed close enough, so I pushed the door and let the smell of oak, laughter, and expensive decisions hit me in the face. The room was small—twenty chairs, one long table, candles doing their best impression of mood lighting. A host in a linen shirt welcomed us like we were old friends, which was funny because I didn’t know a soul. Five minutes later I had three new friends and a half-full glass of something labeled “not for beginners.”
The pourer told us to swirl. I said, “If I swirl any more, I’ll spill my reputation.” She laughed. The table followed. That’s when we crossed from event to party.
“Where’s everyone from?” someone asked. Antioch, Walnut Creek, Danville—it sounded like a county convention, only better dressed. The woman next to me said she joined the A-List “to meet interesting people.” “Mission accomplished,” I told her. She didn’t disagree.
The wine got bolder with every pour—or maybe we did. By the time the truffles landed, we were swapping numbers like middle-schoolers at summer camp. The host tried to wrap things up, but nobody was listening.
I don’t remember the official tasting notes, but I remember the toast: “To the nights that start civilized and end with great stories.” That’s A-List for you—one minute you’re strangers, the next you’re family… with a wine problem.