Purple Rain
From the not knowing to feeling like I had to something to prove, this tasting almost didn’t happen. Then the rain came down🍷
Before the juice was the ink. Before the pour was the promise. That’s how my wine story begins. Well, technically, if you’ve been reading “Sipping Lovely” for a while, you know my wine story begins in the straw basket mama (Sistah Sonia) hid on top of the fridge. In it, always a bottle of Manischewitz Concord Grape wine. Three dollars in those days. But in the first generation dreams of my Jamaican mother, it was a million dollar bottle.
It’s amazing how we attach meaning to these bottles. No matter how many bottles of Sauternes mama tried, she loved Manischewitz Concord Grape wine best. It was emotional for her. I never knew why. Had she been exposed to the label working as a private duty nurse on the beach for the Frankels? What I did know was when she took down that basket, unscrewed that bottle, and poured just enough into her crystal glass for a couple sips, it was a statement of how far she had come–from those misty, Manchester mountains to Wales, Canada, New York, and finally, Miami. The promise of a better life even if in many ways, it was a promise petrified in potential.
Why do we attach meaning to these bottles? I was always fascinated by Monique Samuels’ wine choice when she starred in the Real Housewives of Potomac. Before her time on the show ended after a brawl with a co-star, Candiace Dillard Bassett, at a winery, Monique always had a bottle of Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon and an extravagant aerotar close. It seemed it was the only wine she drank though I’m sure (well, I hope), it wasn’t.
“I’m serious about my wine,” Monique says in an episode at the hookah bar. “I need to make sure it’s nice and right…This used to be my favorite. It used to be a $250 bottle. It’s, like, $70, $80 now.”
The price sharing didn’t go over well with another housewife. I don’t think Monique’s intent was to boast, but there was a kind of pride in announcing to the world that she drank Caymus Cabernet, aerated.
This is why I created “B.Y.O.C. (Be Your Own Critic) with Professor Dink” which actually used to be called “Rock Star Wine Tastings” back in the day when I was just starting out as a food and wine columnist at The Miami Herald.
What would happen if our palates were stripped bare? What would happen if you tasted the wines, blind, like the “critics” allegedly do? No preconceived notions to cozy up to. No brand name numbness to distract you. Just you and the glass of wine before you. “Just you and your little ole self,” as Toni Morrison once said in an interview with Charlie Rose. No ratings to hide behind. Just your senses, your intuition, you.
When I was coming up in the late 90s and early 2000s to mid-2000s, it used to be (and, maybe, it still is): “You are what you drink.” Brand names were as important in the wine world as they were in the fashion world. There were the Bentley Bottles: Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Barolo. The higher the price, the better. The more difficult to pronounce, the better. The higher the rating, the better. Before chardonnay was damned and mainstream French wines got sweeter, Chablis was Tiffany’s. Americans drank big, burly, oaky, in-your-face cabs because we had polyester palates. From tasting to tasting, wine book to wine book, that was the usual implication. And if you were black, pass the white Zinfandel, the moscato, and the straw.
I pitched Tracy and Tim who own Small Wine Shop in downtown Fort Lauderdale about doing a Prince-themed B.Y.O.C. event. Still mourning the closing of Paradis, a natural wine bar and bookstore in North Miami, Small Wine Shop is one of the only venues where I truly feel comfortable though it’s a bit of a pilgrimage from Miami.
That was the goal of “Be Your Own Critic with Professor Dink.” I wanted guests to be comfortable while being slightly uncomfortable. What I have discovered after years of curating and hosting these tastings, is that as much as we talk freedom, there are folks who are afraid of it. Thinking on their own. Freedom in theory is completely different than freedom in practice. Not-knowing can be intimidating.
As time got closer for “The Prince Wine Experience” at Small Wine Shop, not knowing almost took its toll. Tracy was concerned that we weren’t selling enough tickets despite weeks of ongoing promotion. When I met with her, I shared that I wondered if I, as a black woman, wasn’t resonating with Small Wine Shop’s demographic which was predominantly white. She shared that she wondered the same. In that moment, I almost called off the event. I could feel it creeping in–the ghost of having to prove myself worthy. My chest was getting tight. The need to defend myself rising with an inner-tide. In a write-up in The Sun Sentinel about the event, the reporter wrote, “O'Connor is a veteran explorer of wine and South Florida culture…” “Veteran.” Hmmmm. I’m an OG, innovator, and narrative artist of wine, food, and culture. Was this really happening? I’m doing it, aren’t I? Right here on this Substack page–defending myself.
I was making a lot of assumptions. Fear and trauma as a result of racism will do that to you. But Tracy and I carried on–promoting and sharing, promoting and sharing. Then on Friday March 22nd, the rain came down, monsoon-style, hurricane-style. There was a tornado watch for Miami. Wait. When did Miami start having tornados?
There I was driving a friend’s old truck in the blinding, flooding rain, looking for something to wear for the tasting. I was listening to one of those 80s, 90s music stations where you’ll always hear that same songs: Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer,” George Michael’s “Careless Whisper,” “Faith,” and “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” (technically Wham). If Prince comes on, usually, it’s “When Doves Cry,” sometimes, “Little Red Corvette.” But, on that afternoon, in the blinding, flooding rain, I received the last sign. There was Prince’s voice singing through the old truck radio with what sounded like a gospel choir in the background:
I never meant to cause you any sorrow
I never meant to cause you any pain
I only wanted to one time to see you laughing
I only wanted to see you
Laughing in the purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
What are the odds, right? The spirit had spoken, and the rain stopped despite reports of ongoing, ominous downpour. The Purple Rain Experience carried on. It was all women plus one man. Every seat filled, every glass full, folks laughing and talking loud. The awkward moments came as this was a diverse group--generationally, racially, and maybe in ways I don’t know. Diversity ain’t easy. Period. Especially unexpected (slightly forced) diversity.
Before the bottle is the body and while the bottles pour, so do the people. That’s what hosting these events have taught me. We heard it all in the descriptions: “butter melting over steak, strawberry cake, smoke, lychee, vinegar, armpit, and baby boo boo.” Armpit and baby boo are my classic wine descriptions.
The tasting at the small wine shop was its own kinda Prince-church service, people catching the spirit, laughing, loud talking. I enjoyed meeting the people–the smiley, young woman from St. Louis whose energy was so Champagne-bubbly, we knew she wasn’t local. The woman from Prince’s own Minneapolis who guessed the cabernet franc bottle. Brilliant.
The woman who told us to slow down and that she wished she could hear me more.
DJ Tim-Tracy dropped a beat, and the vibe went on. Tim’s wine selection was exquisite, the music pairings, sublime. Check out the list below. The last song said it all as we honored the spirit of Sinead O’Connor (She covered Prince’s “Nothing Compares To You”). Lights dim, glasses raised, spirits high, teeth purple.
The Glamourous Life –Champagne Chavost Blanc D'Assemblage
When Doves Cry –Iruai Elphame Savagnin
Little Red Corvette –Mersel Red Velvet Carbonic Cinsault
Let's Go Crazy —Domaine de L'Ecu Mephisto Cabernet Franc
Purple Rain —Pax Mendocino GSM
Nothing Compares 2U —Cantina della Pioppa Lambrusco di Modena
Hail Mary. Sounds like another snatched from the brink triumph, Dinkinish!
It was so delicious😋