It was January 2015, I think. Newport, Rhode Island.

The wine dinner had been initially organized back in the prior Fall. The dinner was with a long time friend who was managing a shop. He had set the dinner up a super cool restaurant in Newport. He was very excited for the event. He predicted that the dinner would be easily oversold. I remember him having concerns about how much inventory we had available for our Rhode Island distributor. What if we couldn’t supply him for all of the orders he was going to get? He asked about stock a number of times.

I was supposed to be the talent for this event. I would be there at the dinner to tell stories, bring the energy, connect wit the guests and add credibility to the enthusiasm that he had preached to his customers. 

The wine dinner was booked. It was happening. And we all put it aside as the end of year holidays roared in. 

And then the end of December came in. The year finished. After a pause, I looked at the first two weeks of January. 

I reached out to check in. “How are we looking?” 

“We’re at 50%, but everyone is still coming off the holidays.”

“No problem. I'm stoked!” I replied. 

I checked in ten days out from the date of the dinner. 

“I’m at 65% (or so)” he wrote. There were still key buyers who hadn’t yet replied that he expected to get the nod from.

“No problem. Stoked!” I replied. 

The day before the dinner I wrote. “Coming up. I’m planning to be there tomorrow by 4:30pm." I was coming from my home on Long Island. The trip up entailed me driving out to Orient Point, NY, then taking a ferry across te Long Island Sound, then driving all the way out across Connecticut, and across the wilds of lower Rhode Island, before driving over two large bridges to pass through Jamestown- all to arrive in Newport. I was staying over that night after the dinner. I checked the weather and noticed that New England was forecasted to get snow coming in by the evening of the dinner. 

Noting the weather, I checked in again just before the dinner date. “All good. We still on?”

“Yes. Yeah, I’m bummed we didn’t completely fill it out but we’re a solid 65%.”

“I’ll be there.” I had commited. He was at 65%. Guests were expecting the Indie Wineries guy.

(The weather report was actually much worse. A full on New England Nor’Easter. I should have bailed, but he was committed and I was the show. And I had told him I would be there.) I got in the car early that day and started driving.  Halfway thru Connecticut it started heavy. I pushed on. In early January in New England it gets dark by 4:45-5pm. I crossed both bridges in semi-white out conditions. And I arrived at dusk. The snow was roaring. The streets hadn’t been plowed. I pushed my car into a snow bank. 

I walked up to the restaurant and it was well lit. Quite pretty from the outside. It eminated a coziness in its steamy windows. A few people buzzed about inside. Promising, I thought. 

I walked in. 

They were dropping like flies. Cancellation. Cancellation. Cancellation. I watched as his body language plummeted with each call and text. At a certain point all of the bravado and ego was gone. Disappointment turned to slight shame. I had arrived. The kitchen and the restaurant staff had arrived. We were about 10 minutes out from the start and not a soul had come. And then the door opened. 

A lovely couple. Well dressed. Excited and beaming with some fun energy. They were in their 60s and they had come for the wine dinner. Of course. 

Do we cancel? I could see the issue and decision being debated on his face. 

The couple sat down and started to chat, and then all of a sudden it dawned on them. There was no one else there. An awkwardness swept over them. They were the only fools who had come out for a wine dinner in the middle of a Nor' Easter. They looked around quickly. 

He came over quickly to address them. “We did get some cancellations but we’re going to give it a few more minutes.” We were 5 minutes out. 

I came by and leaned over to introduce myself and say hello. Tell me about yourself, I asked. Had you traveled to Italy. That was always a good stock question as it opened up a world of both information and connection. Tell me where? Tell me about your favorite meal there. 

I bought time for him. I and everyone else in the restaurant was awaiting the cancellation notice. But no one wanted to send these poor brave souls home. 

Then the chef arrived. “Well?” I love chefs for being the blunt voice of reason in situations like this.

“I’m here and I’m ready.” I added.

“We’re ready and whatever we don’t use I can store away for tomorrow.” Chef added.

I turned to him. “Let’s have a dinner”

He smiled. “Ok”. 

I walked over and sat down across our guests and smiled. By now, they were anxious. They now understood that they were not only foolish enough to come out but this entire production would go on just for them. 

“You guys. You are the only guests here for the dinner. And I can’t tell you how excited I am. Normally, there would anywhere from 30 to 50 people in here, sometimes more, and I would be all but shouting as I tried to control the room while telling stories about my producers. The kitchen would be stressed as it worked to drop the same dish at the same time for so many covers, over and over...But not tonight. Tonight we all get to sit down and talk wine. We will talk about these wines and we will share our stories, perhaps open even some more wine."

I poured them each a glass of wine. Then he sat down next to me and I poured a glass for him and myself. Our server came over. I told her to open another bottle and send it back to the kitchen for the staff. I said, each wine we open, open a another bottle so you all can dine with us.

She beamed. They beamed. Everyone relaxed. And I hosted one of the most intimate wine dinners I have ever done. It was as if we were all in a beautiful living room, and by the end hugs were given, cards traded, and the nervous couple left over-joyed. 

Low and slow isn't just about making great food and wine. It's about the way to handle life. It's counter to everything we are told. Fast and loud are celebrated. Growth and efficiency are praised. Mistakes are ground for cancellation. And it's very hard to fight this war between art and commerce schedules.

Unless you love the ones you're with.