I’d share what I tasted today, but that would be a chorus too busy for someone of my limited expertise to join. So I’ll get right tangential instead, and notice the absence of drunks.

It used to be, back in the day, that some industry folk would tie one on at either of the Vancouver Playhouse International Wine Festival’s two Trade Tasting days. These were probably the days of the year when most front and back of house would find trouble sipping too much and then either pitching up at work with the linguistic gifts of hamsters or calling in violently ill, stuck in a Pan Pacific bathroom cubicle. Our stats show that several lifers have been fired for both. But how could any irresponsible person resist?

Explore the International Festival Tasting Room with your food and beverage industry peers at this unparalleled opportunity to meet wine producers from around the world, taste rare wines and boost your knowledge. The Trade Tastings are not only an excellent opportunity to network and taste away from the crowds, but also a chance to sample 159 wines that are unlisted and not yet available in this marketplace; these are in addition to the 723 served at both trade and public tastings. [my italics]

All the sommeliers were there with their waitstaff keeners during the buyer’s hour together with a few dozen restaurateurs, but there were no overzealous busboys or 19 year old hostesses off their gourds, their breath the cruel stench of goat’s cheese, Freybe meat products, Export A’s, and 468 one ounce pours of everything from Golan reds to diligent local saké. It would have been far more entertaining if that were to be the case, as a room that soaked in booze deserves a few good drunks, like the fellow who woke up to find himself being massaged by a strange woman in a wine rep’s suite across the street from the tasting. He tipped her and promptly left, extremely confused, through another room littered with dozens of half drunk wine bottles, used canapé napkins strewn everywhere, and a hundred wine glasses, half empty or nearly and the other half lip-lathered in a dizzying spectrum of rouge pink. It wasn’t that he’d passed out. He was tired. It was a good massage. He fell asleep. It happens.

Times have changed. Or maybe the trade has. Either way, today seemed exceptionally sober, and uncharacteristically so. I have no clue as to why, but that’s my main take away from the day. A memory, such as it is, put into question. Oh, and there also were fewer Australian cock-of-the-walk types in loud suits. Mike Bernardo’s shiny robot dancing shoes were the biggest statement in the room.

Karen Hamilton was in with me shooting for Scout today, and I’ve added several of my own photos (the much shittier ones) to the gallery as well, making for about 100 shots in all. Kick back and click through. You might recognise a few faces…

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More tomorrow…

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Andrew Morrison is a west coast boy who studied history and classics at the Universities of Cape Town and Toronto after an adolescence spent riding skateboards and working in restaurants. He is the editor of Scout Magazine, the weekly food and restaurant columnist for the Westender newspaper, a contributor to Vancouver and Western Living magazines, and a proud board member of the Chef’s Table Society of BC. He lives and works by the beach in Vancouver.

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