Wine Cellar Secrets: A Day In The Life Of Quintessentially Wine
By: Quintessentially Wine
Tags: Wine, Short Story, Ficton

Wine Cellar Secrets: A Day In The Life Of Quintessentially Wine

Chapter Ten: The Oenophiles

“So, talk to me, Ken. Tell me about wine.”

Wilkes smiled. “Well, it’s made from grapes, sir, and you can get red, white or rose.”

Tinnion paused, half-way down in his chair, and fixed the sergeant with a steely glare that had a glint of humour in his eyes.

“When do you retire again?”

“Not until my family are free of childhood diseases. So at least another ten years.”

“Good.”

Tinnion sat down fully and stretched his legs out under the table. He suppressed a yawn — his body was reminding him that he had been up late the previous night — and crossed his arms across his chest.

“Why do people get so passionate about wines?” he asked. “I mean, why do people care about wine so much? You don’t get connoisseurs of lager — well, not that I’ve heard, anyway — so why do people become connoisseurs of wine?”

“Because of the variety and quality, I think,” Wilkes said. He frowned. “At least, that’s the impression I got from my research. People like the fact that there are so many different vines, types and qualities of wine to choose from, each with their own flavour, taste, smell … well, the list is endless, really. It becomes just as much a social occasion as something to drink.”

Tinnion nodded. He could see that; he always saw adverts for wine tasting around London, being advertised outside pubs, supermarkets, wine stores … well, anywhere there was a piece of advertising hoarding. A lot of people seemed to enjoy coming together to savour wine, and Wilkes’ explanation as to why made sense.

“Matthew Jukes, from Quintessentially Wine, is one of the best-known wine buyers and organisers of specialist wine events in the country,” Wilkes went on. “His reputation precedes him. It’s certainly no surprise that Adam reacted as he has done to the theft; wine wouldn’t just be a job to the staff there, it’s got to be a way of life. With someone like Matthew — and Stevie, the chief exec — leading them, their passion has got to embed itself into the rest of the staff.”

“So, wine lovers see their passion -”

Wilkes interrupted him; “Oenophiles, sir.”

Tinnion blinked. “Say again?”

“Oenophiles.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s any way to talk about them, Ken. I mean, just because it’s not necessarily our cup of tea -”

It was Wilkes’ turn to roll his eyes. “No, sir, an oenophile is the official name of someone who is passionate about wine.”

“Oh.” Tinnion squirmed in his chair. “I thought it was some kind of social disease. Thank god you corrected me before I made a fool of myself — well, more so than usual, anyway.”

Wilkes smiled genially, but didn’t say anything. Tinnion cleared his throat, returned the smile and went on; “So, oenophiles see their passion as more of a lifestyle than just a hobby, is that a fair assessment?”

“Yes, sir,” Wilkes confirmed as he nodded his head. “That’s why businesses like Quintessentially Wine exist in the first place; to help people with their love of wine. Oenophiles like to enjoy, appreciate and, perhaps more importantly, collect wines.”

“Ah yes, wine collectors. I remember reading stories every now and then about people having special rooms built for the collection — underground, or climate controlled, or whatever.”

“Yeah, for those that can afford to do that, that’s definitely a growing trade. Not everyone can afford it, of course, but that doesn’t stop them from building up a collection. People develop particular preferences to wines from certain regions, types, grapes or ways of creating the wine.”

Tinnion raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you just crush a load of grapes in a big vat and squeeze the juice out?”

“Oh dear,” Wilkes said wearily. “Absolutely not. It’s more than just crushing the grape. There’s different needs for white and red grapes, the chemicals needed for the process can vary according to what type of wine you’re trying to create and how much fizz needs to be brought out -”

He stopped as Tinnion raised a hand to forestall any more detailed explanation. “Alright, alright,” he said, “I get the picture. I stand corrected — it’s clearly more complex than I gave it credit for. I’m certainly beginning to appreciate why people enjoy wine so much, given the fact that so much work goes into it.”

“It’s not just that, sir,” Wilkes went on, thoughtfully. “It’s the ability to … well, I don’t know if I’m doing this justice, but it helps a lot of people to widen their palate, understand more about different cultures and how they value wine development, and mix with like-minded people.”

Tinnion was intrigued; Wilkes was waxing lyrical about the wines in a way that made the inspector wonder if he wasn’t a secret oenophile himself. Tinnion asked him the question outright, and Wilkes grinned, but shook his head.

“No, sir,” he replied, “but I know what I like, and the missus and I always share a bottle every Friday night I’m home.” He paused and seemed to think about it for a moment. “Every Saturday night as well, to be honest with you. But I’m not a connoisseur — like the people who belong to places like Quintessentially Wine, for example. We’re rank amateurs compared to people who join wine societies.”

“Yeah, I can appreciate that now,” Tinnion said, feeling thoughtful as he absorbed Wilkes’ briefing. It was a whole other world that he hadn’t fully appreciated before; like Wilkes, he enjoyed a bottle of wine, and knew what he liked, but it paled in comparison to people who knew what they were talking about — and knew what they were drinking.

He could imagine that many of these connoisseurs would only like one thing better than a bottle of wine lovingly poured, and that was a bottle from someone famous. The status and kudos of owning a bottle from Churchill, Shakespeare or even — perhaps whisper the name — Napoleon would be a huge cachet. Whether they ever actually drank it or not was probably irrelevant; it would be the act of owning it that was important.

…stay tuned, Chapter Eleven ‘You Can’t Keep A Secret’ is only a day away.