2015 Joseph Drouhin Meursault Genevrières

You saw the light. Don’t pretend you didn’t. I was there. I saw you see it.

Relax. I haven’t told anyone. And I won’t. And even if I did, who would believe me? You were the one who used to say the myth of enlightenment was just another form of crowd control. Your secrets are safe with me.

And just so there are no misunderstandings—just so you can sleep at night, like a baby, in your fully realized dreams— I get it. I’m on nothing but the best of terms with your decision to act like you never saw it. Enlightenment? Realization? Who uses those words any more? Okay. Maybe I’m not perfect at keeping my opinions to myself. Are you? Is anyone? What I can do is keep a secret. When it comes to secrets, I’m the sphinx.

Do you remember what we were doing the day you saw it? Of course you do. What I remember about that day was the horizon, the way it floated like the edge of a bright cloud above the earth and below the sky. The space between worlds, you used to say. The intersection of time and eternity.

No, I don’t. Or maybe I do. How should I know? You have all my love and most of my respect but that does not give you the right to ask me questions you know I can’t answer. You’re the blessed one. You’re the one the universe decided to touch. You want to ask those questions, ask yourself.

Here’s what I know. We’d been watching the world—watching it as a team. You, my wife, my children, and me. And my wife’s cousin, his wife, and his children. And a handful of friends who were like family. More family than family, according to you. The moment came and went. The light was gone before you had the chance to identify it. If I hadn’t been watching your face, I would have missed it. Not that it was an accident. Like you used to say, “Freud says there are no accidents.”

By all means, go right ahead. Dispute my view of the biggest event of our lives. Tell me I’m broken. Tell me I’m damaged goods. Delusional. That’s one of your words. Call me whatever you like. Just don’t call me late for dinner. I was there. I know what I saw. I saw you. And you saw the light.

Which brings us to the 2015 Joseph Drouhin Meursault Genevrières.

In the glass, Drouhin’s 2015 Genevrières is a balancing act between two shades of gold: the gold you own and the gold you borrow. Both shades are as much about light as substance. The moment you settle on light, substance asserts itself. The moment you settle on substance, light emerges as the element of balance.

The bouquet has all the restraint of a rich man’s decor and all the largesse of a poor man’s table. At first, it comes at you in waves. You’re grateful for each one but then the tide turns and the bouquet resolves itself into a lonely suggestion: Late afternoon, the magic hour, the moment when the world lets you know how much it loves you.

On the palate, the wine delivers with a degree of generosity that comes as a jovial surprise. You don’t taste this wine as much as you allow its blended depths to spoil you. The finish arrives early and stays late. This is not a spiritual wine. It’s a wine that aims for your soul and hits the bull’s eye. Like they say in the old country, “If enlightenment was a wine, it would be a white Burgundy.”

Yes, we do. We fight like cats and dogs. But wait. Can a realized master fight with an unrealized student? Can a seer take issue with a fool? By your illuminated standards, isn’t that a contradiction in terms? Or does your compassion only go where you point it?

Fine. We disagree. That’s why we’re still friends. Or enemies, if you prefer. I’d rather be your best enemy than your casual friend—all day long and twice on Sunday. It’s the intimacy, not the affection. I like the contact.

When you saw the light, it didn’t stop at the level of a vision. No. The light moved into your body. I saw it looking out at me through your eyes, your pores, and every hair on your head. It had nothing to do with reflection and everything to do with radiance. You were its vessel. You took it where it wanted to go.

One last question. And I’ll understand if you can’t answer. Or won’t.

Did the light reach out to you, or did you reach out to the light?

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.