Wine pairing is a delightful notion. Choosing a cabernet to go with steak or a pinot gris to go with fish, is a pleasantly decadent activity. The foodies have definitely invented a great concept, heightening the pleasure derived from both the food and the wine. I liked the idea of extending the reach of my favorite beverage, so I decided to push the pairing envelope. Wine is a constant companion at my supper table. During the week I go with carefully selected jug wines, moving up to mid-price varietals on weekends.  Most of my meals are solitary, and I like to read at the supper table-it’s kind of like inviting an author to dinner. So I guess it was inevitable that I would eventually create the notion of pairing wine, books and food. Tripling, if you will. I’ve matched Jorge Luis Borges and an Argentine Malbec with baked trout. I’ve read the Australian writer Patrick White while sipping a Barossa Valley Shiraz and eating barbecued shrimp. And I continue to push farther afield with more obscure triplings.

As I triple, I always read the wine labels, and marvel at their highly condensed and inventive text. I really want to be a wine label writer, but I have issues, which may put me beyond the fringes of the wine label literary canon:

“This cheeky Pinot Gris woos you with its in-your-face fruitiness and saucy finish. Perfect for an afternoon of extreme croquet.”

“A wine robust enough for two men to drink, after they’ve pissed into the radiator of an overheated 57 Chev flatbed, in the desert, under a full moon.”

“For those who admire unoaked auxerrois, Ambling Armadillo 09 arrives at the absolutely apropos enological aperture.”

“A red blend with unexpected glissandos, yet dark with troubling undercurrents. A wine to turn Rodney Dangerfield into a philosopher, and Albert Camus into a standup comic. ”

“The hints of leather in this Cabernet make it the beverage of choice for après-bondage.”

“Bottled by ten, sold by four.”