Inez Ribustello's Wine Blog

As is the case so often in life, we begin to think about people and events that took place what seems like an eternity ago.

Today, I came across a magazine edition of Slammed, a periodical dedicated to the restaurant industry.  No longer in print, I picked up this old, ragged copy with my first mentor, Kevin Zraly, on the cover.  For a wine professional to call Kevin Zraly a mentor is pretty commonplace as he is the author of one of the great wine primers ever written, Windows on the World Wine Course.  He has impacted many, many people in and out of the wine scene, and I am blessed to have had the honor to work with him.

I flipped to the end of the magazine where the editor had asked me to write a letter to Kevin.  The piece is titled Love Letter, and as the magazine is no longer around, I thought I would share it with those who may have never had the chance to read it.

Once upon a time, in a world that was so bright and sunny and so high, I met Kevin Zraly, wine educator extraordinaire.  It was on the 107th floor of One World Trade Center, and I was in the liquor room mopping up red wine.

I heard a voice coming from the door of the room saying, “Aren’t you glad you went to college for this?”  I looked up from the floor to find Mr. Zraly watching me.  I was shaking I was so excited.  I had just gotten the job as an assistant cellar master at Windows on the World, and I had not yet met this man whom I had read so much about.

That same evening, for the first time, I was able to attend Kevin Zraly’s Windows on the World Wine School.  It was heavenly.  Listening to him speak about wine was an experience like no other, and I truly believed I had found the niche I had been searching for.  Everything I had read became true that night–not only was he an educator, but he was an entertainer as well.

The wine class continued for eight weeks.  Every Monday night, I would attend and listen to this passionate teacher share his knowledge of wine and its many mysteries.  I took notes, I tasted, I asked questions, I laughed  and I loved.  What a beautiful life I was having.

Kevin spoke of cool climate versus hot climate; wine textures relating to skim milk, whole milk and heavy cream; how to taste flavors in 60 seconds; the villages of Burgundy; and how Italians don’t drink white wine.  Everything that he said, I absorbed.

It wasn’t long before I got to help set up the wines for Kevin’s wine classes.  I felt like I finally had a purpose in life because I was doing something I truly loved.  For 10 months, I moved wine boxes and stripped labels and printed circle sheets, but it never really felt like work.  I knew if I kept at it, I would eventually get to work closer to Kevin.

After 16 months, I was promoted to Beverage Manager.  Kevin called me every week to check on me and make sure the job was bearable.  He was always there if I had questions about departmental issues, case discounts, vintage changes, etc.  He always gave me an honest answer, and he always made me feel like I had made the decision.  Kevin has so many special traits, and one of them is is needlessness for attention or recognition.  He always placed the spotlight on me, and made me feel special.

On September 11th, I called Kevin to tell him that our Windows sommelier, Stephen Ribustello, and I were o.k.  I also had to tell him that our two assistant cellar masters, Jeffrey Coale and Steve Adams, had been at work that morning.  It was the most difficult time of our lives.

A month later, Stephen and I went to Kevin’s house in New Paltz to talk about the future and share a bottle of Bordeaux from his cellar.  Seeing him that October morning was more than I could bear.  He was thin and pale and looked so shaken and depressed that all I could do was pray that he would recover from this horrible tragedy.  We talked about our Windows family and their loved ones and the constant heartache of seeing them in our minds knowing we would not ever see them again on earth.  The more we talked, the sadder Kevin became.  When we were leaving, Kevin told us he had set up interviews with the Robert Mondavi sales team for Stephen and me so that we would have a job during the holidays.  Only one month had passed and Kevin was already taking care of his two wine children.  Nothing has touched Stephen or me more than that act of kindness.

Kevin and I speak on the phone once  month to share any news or information about our Windows family.  In April of 2003, Kevin came to North Carolina to attend my wedding.  It was such a special celebration because of his relationships with both the bride and the groom.  You see, I married the Windows sommelier, Stephen Rbiustello.

I truly believe I am one of the most fortunate people on earth because of my friendship with Kevin Zraly.  Because of my love for grapes, he is an inspiration and a hero.  Not just anyone gets to work with the Michael Jordan of wine.  For whatever reason, I was able to work with him and I am a better wine professional and a better person because of it.  The Lord works in mysterious ways, and September 11th has taught me that more than anything else.  Knowing Kevin Zraly is one of life’s blessings, and I am thankful for that golden opportunity.  He has given back to the community in so many ways, and he will always be the man who made so many people fall in love with wine while they were falling in love with him.

Slammed Magazine, November 2003

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As this is a wine blog, and hopefully, people reading it won’t judge me too much for saying wine is a way of life, I have to share what’s going on in my current world to explain.

As a mother of a five-year-old girl who is quite the head-strong perfectionist I totally deserve, it has come to a point in her life where she (slash me) is trying to figure out what extracurricular activity might suit her best.  Now that I have finally realized if I suggest it, she will not even consider it, I have stopped trying to say how “cool” piano lessons are or what a great idea it is to take ballet.

Actually, I wasn’t quite sure what Cynthia might love to do until a couple of months ago when she stood in front of our church congregation and sang so vehemently, my mother-in-law whispered, “You didn’t tell me she had a solo.”  The reason I didn’t tell her was because she didn’t. She was just singing so loudly that you could not hear any of the other children.

Seeing this sight, this absolutely precious, adorable, loud sight of a child performing as if her life depended on it led me to talk to her about our community theater’s upcoming performance of Charlotte’s Web, the chosen play for the summer.

I decided Cynthia may really enjoy a real-life play with other children and performance-minded adults.  What Cynthia said in return has tormented me for weeks.

Her little hazel eyes looked up and me, and she said, “I would love to be in it if you’re in it, too.”

Why wine is absolutely necessary #1:  After saying yes to my conniving, I mean sweet-as-sugar daughter, I felt the overtaking urge to grab a glass of Vinho Verde from Portugal and sip the bubbles right out of it.

Our amazing director and incredibly talented commuity-theater revivalist allowed me to take the role of the cynical sheep (only after the child I used to baby-sit turned it down).

Why wine is absolutely necessary #2:  As if I have the slightest ability to memorize lines while I memorize the grams per liter of residual sugar in Vin de Paille, I realize way too late, I have taken on way too much.  Let the Gruner Veltliner flow because this time I need something a little more substantial to get my ewe on.

Practices begin.  Darling children everywhere.  Lots of opinions.  Funny props.  Long practices.

Why wine is absolutely necessary #3:  When you get home at 9:30 p.m. and have been at play practice since 6:00 p.m., you start realizing a lot of your wine drinking time is being compromised.  A total injustice, you need to splurge and possibly open a bottle that will allow you to stop thinking about what you are supposed to say after Wilbur’s line regarding if he’ll be turned into smoked ham.  Can you say Prosciutto?  Freudian slip:  Can you say Rioja?

Why wine is absolutely necessary #4:  You arrive at play practice and see a full-fledged, wool-sheep costume ready to wear by you and you only.  At 34 years old, I assure you, nothing makes me seem less attractive than this get-up accentuated by white tights and a headpiece.  Get out the Pinot Noir from Oregon that I have been saving for 6 months now.  It’s a half-bottle, but I’m so tired, that’s all it will take.

So, here we are, the night before the “friends and family” performance, and the play makes me question why children ask so many damn questions and have so many friggin’ opinions.  All right, it really makes me ask if children are even necessary.  The costume is hot, the entire cast is exhausted, and the only beverages in the cafeteria are ginger ale, sunkist and diet pepsi.  Putting that in writing makes me excited about the invention of a wine dispenser deemed legal only in areas where there is community theater featuring children.

Why wine is absolutely necessary #5:  At this point in my career, you rarely think or appreciate just how great any glass of wine can be.  However, on this particular evening, as I pull in the driveway at 10:15 p.m., I assure you wine has never tasted better in my life.  This Australian Riesling from the Clare Valley could be the best wine I have ever drunk.

Until tomorrow night, that is.

See, it took a role as a sheep in Charlotte’s Web to make me appreciate why wine is absolutely necessary in my life.

Long live Wilbur and God bless Charlotte, but I am more than happy to be the sacrificial lamb.

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How I love thee, let me count the ways.  You are perfect to drink when there is nothing to eat.   You are in your own, total glory when arugula, green curry, jalapenos or juicy steak is at hand.  Whatever is on the plate, you seem to know exactly what to wear, and as if US Magazine was there photographing, you steal the show with your style and your ability to make elegance out of ineptness.

From the rednecks to the newbies to the collectors to the doting sommelier, Riesling is friends, best friends, that is, to all.

From the great state of North Carolina to our mates in Australia, Riesling continues to wow wine drinkers as those who have already learned, nothing tastes better with food, or alone than this noble grape.

Of course, as your popularity gains, we must remember your birthplace, the country that loved you first.

Germany, the Mosel, to be precise.  And when we think of the Mosel, we think of purity.  We think of slate.  We think of spring rain, fresh pears, green apples and acidity that makes your motor run.  I get all juiced up just thinking about the Mosel, and as many wines as there are from this area that I absolutely love, I have to honor the man (and I mean, “the man”) who didn’t just go to New York City to serve his wines or San Francisco to trick his trade, but the man who left the spice route and went to Tarboro, North Carolina, a town misunderstood, yet completely in awe of what Riesling can do and how it can reform.

Just like the pagan who finds the Lord, Riesling makes believers out of those who say they don’t drink the juice and those who say red is the only wine to sip.  In one case, Dr. Richter found his followers, or should I say, the disciples found him, when a wine dinner occurred in a small, rural town in eastern North Carolina.  From his Sekt to his Kabinetts to his Eiswein, the menu took turns and even off-roaded a bit to show that any dish can be paired with this magnificent grape turned wine.

If you’re eating at Hearth, On the Square or Terroir, you already know about how great the Mosel is and what awesome acidity is achieved.  You may also know that Dr. Richter is an incredible intellectual who is super passionate about his wines and his winemaking.  Pick a dish, pick any dish.  Pair it with the Graacher Himmelreich or the Brauneberger Juffer Kabinett.  See the magic, feel the magic, taste the magic, and enjoy off-roading.

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Answer: Flavor compounds responsible for herbaceous flavors in wine, such as the bell pepper aroma in cabernet.

Just in case you thought my blog was getting too soft and emotional versus winey and intellectual, I thought I would surprise you a bit with big words that may stump the average person.

Methoxypyrazines, pronounced ‘me-thoxy-pie-razines’ are flavor compounds that give wine aromas of green herbs or bell peppers.  I often smell these compounds when opening a bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon or Cabernet Franc from the Loire Valley.  Of course, you don’t have to be drinking red to experience these flavors.  They are also found in our friend Sauvignon Blanc.  All of the herbaceous flavors, like fresh, green herbs and jalapenos you so often encounter in New Zealand or South African Sauvignon Blanc are results of methoxypyrazines. 

To me, it is incredibly fascinating that grapes, once made into wine, have the ability to smell like so many other flavors than just grape juice.  As the world becomes more and more advanced, I discover there are actual reasons, i.e. compounds, that make wine smell like millions of other things.  I find that wine is not just about magic, but more about science.  It is a fascinating discovery, one that I pray will have me discovering for the rest of my life.

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Hello all…I apologize for being so slack in my blogging.  It isn’t that I haven’t had anything to write about, it’s more that my May has been as busy as our last December.  A pretty busy May, or as one of our wonderful customers said to me today, “You’re busier than a one armed paper coat hanger!”  Whatever you call it, it has been a little hectic in my world. 

As much as I enjoy commotion and lots of activity, when it comes to my job, I like things thorough, efficient and well, dare I say, perfect. 

I’m not sure if it’s the unobtainable I am after or if I am a total masochist, but perfection in a restaurant (save one by Thomas Keller) is completely unrealistic. 

My dad always told me if everyone likes you, you’re doing something wrong, and I try to apply that advice when someone is telling me that the service was poor or that the website wasn’t updated on time.  You see, I want our place to be perfect and so when there is a complaint, I not only take it seriously, I sometimes let it hurt my feelings.

Regardless, I completely stress myself out trying to make sure our restaurant is run so that everyone is satisfied, and it is frustrating and disappointing when it doesn’t happen.  Of course, I alone, cannot make our place what it is.  That is why I value all of our friends/co-workers who come to work each day to make sure we succeed.  Running a restaurant helps me to appreciate key people who work here on a regular basis.

No one knows all of the staff at On the Square, but I think it’s pretty important to start telling some stories of people who make my job much easier as well as accommodate many of the people who come here to dine.  I have already spoken about Frances, my saint, but I think it would be nice to share some stories of others who do so much for On the Square, and in turn, for Stephen and me. 

In no particular order, I would like to invite you to get to know the people who work with us. 

May I introduce Alex Hernandez, born as Eliseo, but his name was changed to Alex upon arriving in the kitchen at the young age of 16.  Alex started as a grill cook in 2004, and even at 16, he was incredibly talented and efficient at cooking ribeyes, filets and pork tenderloin, not to mention, mahi, tuna, etc. 

Alex graduated from Tarboro  High School, and began his studies at East Carolina University where he stayed for about 3 semesters before realizing he liked working more than being lectured to.  He also realized that while cooking was fun, it wasn’t where he wanted to be for the rest of his life, and so he took the plunge, left us (for a brief while), and moved on to work the assembly line at Honeywell, a plant outside of Tarboro. 

I cannot remember how it happened, but one day, when he came back to say hello, I asked him about working the in the front as a runner.  He said it would be fine as long as he could continue to work days at his other job.  Of course, it was, and his new position in the front-of-the-house began. 

Within a couple of months, Alex became a server, after he easily proved how well-spoken, polite and well-versed he was on the menu.  After all, he had worked the grill for so long, he knew more about the food coming out of the kitchen than yours truly.

With the knowledge of Alex reading this blog, I will admit I was nervous about him waiting tables.  Would  he grasp the needs of our clientele?  Would he be able to anticipate what our guests wanted?  Would he be clear and definitive when he spoke to tables?  I knew Alex was trustworthy and hard-working, but a server is the liason between the kitchen and the guest, and there are many different skills one must have to properly serve.

As I write this tonight, I become so excited/proud at having Alex on my team.  He is sincere, extremely polite and always pleasant.  Customers adore him, and I am calmed by his ease and effort while working.  Not only does he take very good care of his tables, he also makes sure his co-workers’ tables are well-provided for.  He is a team player if there ever was one, and we are extremely fortunate to have him work at On the Square.

In his ever so calm, polite way, Alex will ask me what is Chianti or how do you say Dornfelder?  He will tell me why he thinks Gruner Veltliner is delicious with the Shellfish Stew.  Not only does he dominate when it comes to serving others, he also has a passion for knowing all of the details of his job, including wine and wine service.

Alex and I share dinner at night.  He has a son that is 6 months old that is named Baby Alex.  We look at pictures on his I-phone of my children playing with his son.  I pray that they can be as good of friends as their parents. 

I am so thankful that at 34 years old, I can continue to meet people who I hope will be my lifelong friends.  I am so thankful there are people like Alex who want to work with people like me.

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So many of you who drink wine may think I am getting ready to talk about the wines of St. Francis in Sonoma, but you would then think I misspelled the name of the winery which I would try to never do.

No, instead, I want to tell you a story of a woman very dear to me who has become a best friend during the past eight years.  Her name is Frances Liverman, and we bought our restaurant On the Square from her in October 2002. 

Frances is what many people call a teetotaler, a word I had never heard until someone said it in casual conversation.  A teetotaler is someone who does not drink.  Nada.  No whiskey, no wine, no nothing.  Teetotalers are perfectly content drinking beverages with no alcohol.  It is a phenomenon I cannot even begin to grasp, but I have to respect the fact that in the eight years I have known Frances, she has yet to come into work hung over or left early to hit a bar. 

Frances does not drink wine.  She also does not come to work late nor does she become impatient at any time (with the customers or with us).  She always has a smile on her face, and she always makes sure our restaurant is run the way we want it to run.  Frances is the reason I can enjoy myself on vacation.  She is my peace, she is my saint.

Now, what does this have to do with wine, one may ask? 

I cannot help but laugh when Frances calls me on my cell phone to tell me she just sold a case of wine or ask me where is the Cava or who distributes the $9 Malbec on the list.  My heart becomes lighter when she tells me she rang up the $190 bottle of Chateau Montelena 1997 or that she recommended the Moscato d’Asti for someone who enjoys sweet wine. 

The gist of the blog is that Frances tries.  She tries very hard to make our business successful.  Maybe it’s because she feels like it’s her business too.  Maybe it’s because she values our friendship.  Maybe it’s because she’s a saint.

Whatever the reason be, Frances sells wine like no other person I know who has never touched the stuff.  She pushes wines that she has listened to us suggest and she has even given flavor profiles to the customer, when she thinks we aren’t listening.  The funny thing is, she’s describing the wine exactly as it is.  All from listening to us winoes talk in her presence. 

There could be a name for someone like Frances….a wine salesperson who does not drink wine.  She says she is fortunate that nobody has asked if she drinks or not.  They may not believe her sales pitch if they find out she doesn’t indulge.  We won’t tell if she doesn’t.  Instead, we take great pride in knowing someone who is so efficient, so reliable, so dedicated, so perfectly attuned to how a business should operate.

Whenever I start my nightly drinking, I become emotional about people I love, and sometimes about people I don’t love (but that is a whole ‘nother blog).  Regardless, my love for Frances is always brought to the front burner as I sip or gulp my nightly glasses.  Wine may not be her love, but it is her love for us that makes her sell wine on a daily basis. 

If I had to guess…Frances probably never thought in a million years that she would be telling people the difference between Riesling and Moscato, but that makes the story so much sweeter…she absolutely is.

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One fundamental lesson that constantly reminds me of my priorities on a day-to-day basis is the importance of relationships.  Just like the importance of saying thank you or the importance of not always saying what is on your mind, the importance of maintaining relationships at every level will help you progress in education, career and in life.

Wine is truly about relationships.  I keep learning this over and over and over again.

On Saturday evening, I was reminded once again of what it means to make a connection.

As many of you know who read this blog, I basically write about my journey of becoming a Master Sommelier.  It is a goal I plan obtaining in my lifetime, provided I don’t die tomorrow.

Anyway, a key person in the Court of Master Sommeliers is a beautiful woman named Blakesley.  She is the Executive Director of the Guild of Sommeliers Education Foundation.   

For the past five years we have gotten to know one another, albeit electronically.  Most of our correspondence has been via email as she lives in Napa and I live in Tarboro. 

A couple of years ago, when my email account was hacked, Blakesley called me to make sure I was o.k.  Keep in mind, at this point, we had never met in person.

However, just a couple of months ago, I was given the opportunity of meeting Blakesley face-to-face in Napa where I attended Rudd Round Table.

At the end of the whirlwind prep course, the attendees enjoyed dinner at Tra Vigne with a few other selected guests.  One of these guests was Cyril Chappellet, Blakesley’s husband and owner of Chappellet Winery.  I was given the honor of sitting beside Cyril and learning more about the history of his winery and how he and Blakesley met and fell in love.  It was a wonderful evening, and not far away from the many enjoyable evenings I have had with good people in Tarboro.  That’s the irony of the story.  Although I was thousands of miles away from home, I was made to feel at home by people who understand the value of relationships. 

This past Friday, Blakesley emailed me to say Cyril would be in the Chapel Hill area for a wine dinner.  She asked was  On the Square far away.  I fudged a little and told her we were one hour due east of Raleigh, and it was a great drive. 

It made me think back to the many people I have met over the past 12 years along my incredible wine journey.  Susan LaRossa, Mark Coleman, Glenn Vogt and Paolo Villela at Windows on the World; Laura Maniec and Kerrin Ott at Blue Fin; Jeremy & Diana Seysses while working the harvest at Dujac; David Gordon and the entire Borgata team; the list goes on and on and on.  And now, many years after making my debut into the world of wine, I am still making friends with people who not only love the juice but also love people. 

It is a special job, this wine gig that I have.  And not a moment goes by where I don’t thank God for letting it be my career.  You see, I get to sip wine made by people I love and with people I love.  That is a pretty awesome gift that keeps on giving.

Cheers to all special relationships, wine-related or not.

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Dear Friends,

I kept a secret from you.  I apologize for being deceptive in any way, but I was too nervous, too insecure, too scared to share it because I didn’t want to disappoint you yet again.

The Court of Master Sommeliers, the group I have so desperately been trying to join, has started a new competition called Top Somm.  It is a contest to become the best sommelier in America.  The process began in late Fall when we applied over the internet to compete.  We were given a date of Saturday, January 23rd, where we would get on line at precisely 12:00 noon to take a written exam deeming 10 people worthy in each region to compete in person.

I was chosen as one of the top 10 contestants in the southeast region, and Saturday, April 10th at the Breakers was my given date and location.  The irony being the date was my birthday, as well as having to leave husband and family once again to possibly be disappointed because in this event, there is only one winner.

So, forgive me, for not telling you about the competition, but it was for the sake of not having to go through an emotional roller coaster of having to tell my friends, family and readers that I did not come out on top.

My exam began yesterday at 8:00 a.m. when a most difficult written exam of 31 questions was issued to each contestant.  Absolutely absurd, if you must know.  Questions about Greece, Romania, Hungary and even, North Carolina, for God’s sake. (on a side note, I was extremely thankful for the question on North Carolina).  It wasn’t a gimme test for me nor was it an embarrassment, but by golly, it was hard, and I felt a bit defeated after I handed it back to our judges.

Blind tasting was next:  Italian Pinot Grigio, Austrian Gruner Veltliner from the Wachau at Smaragd quality, Clare Valley Riesling, Barossa Grenache, Morey St. Denis 2005 and Walla Walla Syrah.  Final answer.  No, I went back to the Barossa Grenache and changed my answer to Rioja Gran Reserva.

Left the exam and felt like I was successful.   Was I?  I will never know.  I will never find out the wines we tasted.

Last section of the exam was service.  Service, I love.  It went well, and I enjoyed the challenge.  Was I a rock star?  Not really.  BUT, I had a good time, and I got into the idea of making others happy.  In the end, I left having no idea of the results, but I did feel good about the process.

At 4:30 p.m., we reconvened to find out the winners.  Life being totally crazy, my name was called out as the winner.  Yes, now I get to go to the finals and compete as the Southeast’s candidate against four others who made it this far.

What could be better?  I didn’t really know until approximately 24 hours later.

Flashback to January 2000:  my lifelong childhood friend who would always be someone I felt close to came back to Tarboro to be with her mother as she battled cancer.  Before I moved to California, I stopped by my friend’s mother’s home to say hello and good-bye to Cookie, the woman whom I had known my whole life as my mother’s childhood friend and my childhood friend’s mother.  A couple of weeks later, I was informed that Cookie had gone to another place to live a much better life.

I didn’t come back to Tarboro for the funeral nor did I act as the best friend to Anna.  Instead, I continued life as I knew it, and I didn’t think of those who were really suffering.

After September 11th, 2001, I became a different person.  I was much more reclusive, and I didn’t have much to say.  If I did say something, it didn’t make much sense to me.

I remember walking along the upper east side one cold Autumn afternoon after work and seeing an eastern North Carolina area code on my cell phone.  I answered it, and I heard Anna’s voice on the other line.  Her voice was so soothing.  It was so tranquil.  It was so healing.  I knew in an instant how much she was hurting–if there was anyone who loved their mother, it was her.  Her voice let me know I was not alone.  Her voice let me know I could get through this sickening time.  And, of course, her voice made me believe in God because she was calling me when I had not been calling her.

Needless to say, Anna and I became closer and closer as the years progressed.  She has no reason to look up to me, but I have every reason to look up to her.  She is a wonderful mother, an amazing wife and a hard worker.

Come back to today’s present, April 11th, 2010:  I have flown back from Florida after a whirlwind trip and an exhausting flight.  I am on cloud nine because life doesn’t get much better than winning, does it?  My husband and children welcome me with open arms, and the world seems absolutely perfect.

And then, there is Anna.  She is there with me, with darling children in hand.  We talk, we laugh, we even get pulled over at a license check point.  The afternoon is ending, and I truly believe life is at its grandest–hometown, family and being a champion….and then.

And then, Anna asks me to be her son’s godmother.

Anna asks me to be her son’s godmother.

Someone believes that I am good enough of a person to raise their child in case anything happens to them.  Someone believes in me to love their child like they do.

Nothing, my friends, is better than that.

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