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“I do. You guys said there was too much that could go wrong. Unclean tap lines, and if the temperature or the gas mix isn’t just right, the wine could taste terrible.”
“Exactly. But it’s not a bad idea, if it’s done right. Keg wines are more sustainable, more economical...” He stood. “Anyway. . . come have a look.”
Grabbing my purse, I followed Neo out of the restaurant toward the bar, curious now. As soon as we walked in, I realized why he’d brought up kegging wine. The entire wall on the opposite end of the bar was comprised of wine taps. I’d never seen anything like it. Tap after tap, all labeled. Maybe thirty of them or more.
“This is unbelievable,” I said, moving closer, vaguely registering Neo slipping away in the opposite direction, toward the bar.
Unlike most of the Grado family, I was a white-wine drinker by choice—they’d long ago stopped trying to convert me to red—so naturally, I gravitated toward the whites.
When Neo returned a few minutes later with two wine glasses, I said, “I can see the benefits now.”
I drifted down to the dry whites.
Neo followed, handing me a glass. “This is where Min got the idea. Go ahead, pick one.”
I looked behind us at the bartender, who stood behind the bar, then frowned as I turned back to face Neo.
“You pay for five tastings and then a full glass. He’s watching, keeping track.”
“So you’re saying the bartender has to literally stare at the wall and watch to see how many people are sampling the wine? That seems like a major pain in the ass.”
Neo positioned his glass under one of the wine taps and poured a small amount into it. “Agreed. Usually the taps are behind the bar, more controlled. But it’s sort of a signature of the inn, so I guess worth the extra effort. To answer your next question, yes, you can pour as much as you want for the tasting.”
“So I could have six full glasses of wine for the price of one? If I wanted to?”
“You could. But most people don’t.”
This was nuts, but also kind of fun. I worked in wine, and while the experience for the customer was similar—you were essentially getting a tasting—the aesthetics of a wine wall and having control over the amount as a customer did lend a novelty to the experience I’d never encountered before.
“I really like this idea,” I said.
“Min did too.”
Just as he predicted, we didn’t drink five full glasses but instead behaved like civilized wine drinkers, meandering from one to the next. Once I found my favorite, I filled up. Just when I was about to pull my glass away, Neo put it back and topped me off.
“That’s an extremely generous pour,” I said.
“It is, but you’ve got to work the system a bit, no?”
I agreed. And also agreed when Neo asked if the courtyard would be a good place to drink our wines. We made our way back through the restaurant and outside. Normally I’d be wearing a jacket this time of year, but a warm spell made it feel more like an early September night than an early November one.
“I still can’t believe how warm it is tonight,” I said as we wandered to a bench just next to the pond. Weeping willow trees surrounded us, but there were no other guests now that the wedding party was gone. It was an altogether romantic setting, or would have been if I was with someone who thought of me as more than a little sister.
“Salute,” Neo said, lifting his glass, “to a successful first post-harvest tour day.”
We clinked glasses, neither of us looking at the other for too long. Usually Neo and I hung out with Min or other members of the family. There was a night back in the summer when we’d gone out with Cos and Brooke, before they began dating, and we had ended up alone for a bit, playing darts. As it had then, it felt awkward now. Taboo, even.
“I’m surprised you came,” he said. “This trip was about as spur of the moment as you get.”
As he took a sip of wine, I couldn’t help but stare at Neo’s forearms. He was usually dressed in jeans and a tee around the vineyard, so when I walked into the restaurant and saw him in a button-down, more covered up than usual, my initial view of him wasn’t anywhere near as butterfly-inducing as when I got close and noticed that his shirtsleeves were rolled up. What was it about that look anyway? It made no sense. All summer I had an ample view of his forearms in a T-shirt. Not sure what the difference was.
“You are?” I said. I was a pretty spontaneous person. Surely Neo knew that about me.
“A little bit.”
He sat back on the bench, crossing his extended legs. I took it all in. The setting, the sound of the water, Antonio Grado lounging next to me, wine glass in hand, without a care in the world...not running to the vines or barrel tasting or blending or meeting the vineyard manager or the thousands of other tasks he does, some all in one day. It was just a bit...much. I could feel my cheeks flushing as I stared at him. Not good.
“Why?” I asked.
