Our first stop on the Wine Trail of York County, PA was to be Foxridge Wines. We didn’t seem to be in Wine Country as much as the land of Strip Malls, but our GPS announces “You have reached your destination.” We pull into the nearest parking lot and there was Foxridge Winery wedged inbetween a dance studio and a Dunkin Donuts…and a sign in their window proclaimed “Wine Tasting”. We had indeed reached our destination…although the woman behind the counter seemed to busy with something out of sight to take notice of us.
“Ahem…” we said, with our most polite throat clearing.
She looks up suddenly and blurts out, “What?!?”
“Oh, um…we’re hear for a wine tasting.”
She looks utterly confused at this.
“Oh, okay…we could–”
“Oh…” She gets an idea, “Maybe Steve could do it.”
She’s working on something behind the counter that we can’t see, but she puts it down to get Steve.
My friends and I share looks of “Should we just go?” but before we can she comes back with Steve. We expect that Steve will lead the wine tasting, but instead they are in deep conversation that this year’s wine is darker than last year’s.
Steve asserts, “Last year you said it wasn’t dark enough.”
“This is going to be a problem.” she says.
She holds up the two glasses of wine that she had behind the counter and holds them up to the light, in the manner of someone comparing two things that are almost identical and she was trying to discern the difference. The two of them stare deeply into the two glasses, looking for subtle differences.
I think I must be crazy because she’s comparing a red wine to a white wine. I look to my friend and he’s stifling laughter, so he must be seeing the same thing.
“We’ve got to do something about this.”
Steve shrugs and heads off to the other room.
We hope that this is the sign that the wine tasting will bring us back to normalcy. He brings us three glasses of wine for the four of us. Steve looks confused, so not wanting to confuse him further my wife and I just share a glass. When we ask for the Riesling, Steve gimmaces and heads to the fridge. Almost a minute of digging yields no results and he leaves the room. He comes back a minute later with a bottle.
“She said to open a bottle of Niagara.”
That’s not what we asked for…nor is it even something on the tasting list, but again we don’t want to further upset Steve who seems rattled. My friend tries shop-talk to calm him.
“Look. I don’t know anything about grapes.”
“Oh, how long have you worked here?”
He has the Niagara open and says, “I should wash your glass.”
It’s not really that necessary since it’s another white, but he takes my glass (but not the other two) to the bathroom to wash it.
We’re all weirded out by this point, and my friend makes a gesture of “Let’s leave after this glass.”
We all agree. And the mystery remains how Steve who knows nothing about grapes can turn a white wine into a red wine.