I suppose this is as good a time as any to confess my wine conversion experiences. They are recent, and involve Beaujolais Nouveau, so I don't tend to share them in this sort of rarified company, but here goes.
For many years I was a grocery store bargain hunter. I drank under $10 Spanish and Italian reds, and when I found a good one I would buy a case, because most of them were mostly just useful for, well, drinking.
Then I married into a family with an Italian connection, so I started drinking the local peasant wines in the part of Tuscany her family lived in. These were un-complex, low alcohol, fresh, and alive, and about a euro or two a liter to drink, always from this or the past years' vintage. If 95% of what I drank was this sort of thing, even today, I wouldn't complain. But I don't live in Italy.
One year at Thanksgiving I was depressed so I wandered into a local shop that carries a lot of Kermit's wines. "Give me something that smells of springtime," I said to the clerk. She sold me some Dupeuble and Chermette nouveau, which I absolutely loved. This was the point at which I started really trying to learn about wine.
But I still wasn't obsessed.
A year or two after that nouveau, still poking around, I got convinced to spend I think $25 on the 2005 Lapierre Morgon, which seemed an inconceivable amount to pay for a bottle of wine at that point. But I was assured it was good.
It was more than good: it was breathtaking. The bouquet was like nothing I had ever experienced, so full of fruit and flowers and so achingly beautiful I couldn't have imagined anything like it beforehand. It's a reference point wine for me. I bought several more bottles of this 'insanely expensive' ($21 on the case? - felt like a fortune at the time) wine and shared it with everyone I could find. Many of them, grocery store bargain hunters as I had been, fell over themselves in awe: easily a dozen people told me it was the best wine they ever drank.
Who knows: maybe some of them are your customers today.
Those scents are etched into my mind forever.
So, I didn't know Marcel Lapierre, as I don't know most of you. But his wine changed my life. So I thought I'd post my regrets, and also say what I often say when people like this pass on: we should all be so lucky to have done with our own years what they did. Death is sad, but it is the price of admission for life, and a vigneron like Lapierre touches more of us during his time here than most.