Two Mondays ago I attended a food and wine tasting event. The theme? Pinot and pork; these are a few of my favorite things. A local wine importer sponsored the event, and proceeds went to Slow Food U.S.A, an "educational organization dedicated to promoting stewardship of the land and ecologically sound food production; reviving the kitchen and the table as the centers of pleasure, culture, and community; invigorating and proliferating regional, seasonal culinary traditions; creating a collaborative, ecologically-oriented, and virtuous globalization; and living a slower and more harmonious rhythm of life."

The pork dishes? Delicious. As soon as the event began, everyone was fighting for a spot in one of the food lines to grab a sampler from one of the participating restaurants. A bite of pork belly here, a bbq pork sandwich nibble there, and before you know it you're stuffed. Quaff the equivalent in pinot and you're loopy to boot. Rookie mistake. Next time I'm going to pace myself and wait for everyone to tire themselves out, and then I'll make my move. The space, which appeared to be a night club after hours, didn't have enough tables. People were standing around trying to hold a wine glass and a small plate of food and to eat and drink, all at once. Not an easy task with only two arms.

My old roommate Robert first turned me on to pinot noir. Ever since Sideways, the popularity of pinot has soared, and unfortunately, most of the pinots I've tried since just don't measure up. The pinot noir I love tastes like earth, and the pinots I tried at this event tasted fruity, like light burgundies. This seems especially true of pinots from California, though I haven't sampled enough to assert that with any confidence.