He had prepared cheeseburgers and I had brought a bottle of 2007 Barbaresco Vicenziana by Silvio Giamello, a wine that I had cellared in my wine locker in San Diego since its release.
I wanted to bring a Nebbiolo with some age on it: our get-together was long overdue and I was excited to see my old friend; I wanted to share something memorable with him.
You see, he’s that one-in-a-million friend with whom I played in a band and wrote some of my first songs back in high school in La Jolla.
He’s that one-in-a-million friend with whom I went through my teens, the acne, the insecurity, the Duran Duran concert where we locked our keys in the car, the visits to the gym trying (unsuccessfully in my case) to “beef up,” the first experiences in a recording studio, the prom…
Later, he’s that one-in-a-million friend with whom I played in bands in Los Angeles and with whom I went on tour as a cover band in Italy.
In our teens and in our twenties, in high school and then in college (me at UCLA and he at Loyala Marymount), we experimented, played music, partied, and learned through joy and sometimes bitter disappointment about the challenges and rewards of our southern Californian upbringing.
We ended up not opening that bottle yesterday with his burgers.
You see, he’s also that one-in-a-million friend who is battling aggressive melanoma.
We decided, instead, that we’d open it a year from now when he’ll have complete the next phase of treatment.
“In another year,” I told him, “it will only be better for the age.”
I’m looking forward to tasting that bottle and so is he.