1991 Domaine Ramonet Batard-Montrachet
Ass Chat’s intro-track—guitar chords at the end of I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For—dissolve into Russell “Rusty” Duncan’s voice.
Rusty: Welcome to Ass Chat. I’m your host, Rusty Duncan.
Nails: And I’m Nails Castillo, Rusty’s partner in crime. All guests appear courtesy of the Ass Chat Hot Line. We’ll be taking your calls through the bottom of the hour. Second half, Seattle deejay Meter Davis will join us on the Hot Line. We’ll chat with Meter about his ass, his girlfriend’s ass, and the view from the wine cellar on the top floor of their new townhouse on Mercer Island. And here I thought you were supposed to keep wine underground.
Rusty: Nails, we’ve got Angie in Palo Alto with an inquiry about an engineer at work. How you doing, Angie?
Angie: Psyched to be on. I’m in digital strategy with Tesla, and there’s this engineer who liaises between our office and our factory in Fremont. He’s in here twice a week. And he’s a kook, but in a good way. Always makes me laugh. I’m not exactly single, but it’s not like I’m married, and he doesn’t look married, either.
Nails: How about his ass?
Angie: It’s a winner. Here’s my conflict. I mean, you guys are guys, so I figured, get a guy’s take first, before I poll my girlfriends.
Nails: We’re here to help.
Angie: Thanks, Nails. I don’t want this engineer to think I’m throwing myself at him, but I can’t get his ass out of my mind.
Rusty: The issue is how to break the ice.
Angie: Yay! I knew you’d understand.
Rusty: Here’s the bad news, Angie. If you like his ass, chances are, you’re not the only one who’s interested. So, time’s not on your side. The good news: It’s the Age of the Ass. His ass is out there for a reason. If he’s not hiding it, he’s not shy. Just tell him you like it. He’ll take it from there. Let’s go to Paul, in Minneapolis, with a question about yoga. How you doing, Paul?
Paul: Thanks for taking my call. My wife’s twenty-six. I’m thirty-six.
Nails: Lucky you.
Paul: Tell me about it. Anyway, she’s into yoga. Five classes a week.
Nails: Kids?
Paul: No, but we’re working on it. Truth is, I hate all kinds of exercise, including yoga. But sometimes I’ll swing by and watch, you know, the last ten minutes of her Wednesday class. And I really enjoy that. Except there’s this East Indian dude in the row behind her, and I swear to God, he never takes his eyes off her ass. And he wears a turban.
Nails: Paul. Word of advice? Take a step back. A giant step.
Rusty: Has your wife so much as had coffee with the gentleman?
Paul: No, she’s never mentioned him. Doesn’t know he exists.
Rusty: But her ass is a masterpiece?
Paul: Tightest bubble butt in the Twin Cities. Of course I’m biased.
Rusty: Paul. You’re not biased. You’re blessed.
Which brings us to the 1991 Domaine Ramonet Batard-Montrachet.
In Burgundy, they say Batard-Montrachet was invented to help middle-aged men seduce young women. The theory, if you want to call it that, is that young women have everything going for them, except experience. By virtue of its clarity, complexity, and unexpected depth, Batard-Montrachet speaks to that lack of experience. When an older man introduces a young woman to Batard-Montrachet, he compliments her only weakness, which, ideally, induces her to trust him. Or so the theory goes.
In the glass, Ramonet’s 1991 Batard-Montrachet does not look like a twenty-four-year-old wine. Its gold body has pale green highlights at its edge. The bouquet is outdoor bliss: a blend of apricot blossoms, straw, and sunlight. Sipping this wine requires some discipline. Every cell in your body says, “Chug it,” but if you’re patient, the wine will change in the glass, and the changes will astonish you. The finish is a heartbreak, a light touch, and a séance, combined. If your final sip of this wine leaves you out of breath, congratulations. You’re human.
Rusty: We’re back live with Meter Davis, on the Ass Chat Hot Line. Meter, are you there?
Meter: Here, there, and everywhere, Rusty.
Nails: Tell us about the wine cellar.
Meter: Well, it’s my new toy, basically.
Nails: And a man is only as good as his toys.
Meter: Indeed. What happened was, we tend to sleep in, so, after we bought the place on Mercer, me and the lovebird set up our bedroom in the basement, where the prior owner’s cellar had been, and put our cellar in the master bedroom.
Rusty: Aren’t you supposed to keep wines in the dark?
Meter: You’re supposed to do all kinds of things. Doesn’t mean you’re obliged to. It’s all good. There’s A.C. And there’s blinds. Long as we’re not in there, selecting, the blinds are closed.
Rusty: But when you’re selecting, they’re open?
Meter: Blinds open automatically. And the view of the lake is magic. Lunch or dinner, every time we run upstairs for a bottle, we see all that water and there’s no other place on earth we’d rather be.
One Bottle is dedicated to the appreciation of good wines and good times, one bottle at a time. You can write to Joshua Baer at jb@onebottle.com.