Rex Pickett's Sideways Column: Pinot Noir Saved My Life

My wine epiphany fulgurated when I was 19 years old. I went to a liquor store with my room mate Mark. We had just returned from a two-month tour of Europe where we had discovered the explosive hoppiness of German and Dutch beers. In the mood for wine, we were eager to transit the saccharine treacle of Mateus and Blue Nun. While Mark occupied the attention of the clerk – a sallow, burst-capillary faced guy with failing eyesight – I slid a bottle of 1967 Beaulieu Georges de Latour Private Reserve under my coat.