Seedling 11:  Sometimes Croatina

‘Pop quiz!’.

One Direction and I were having our post-staff meal coffee, chit-chatting at the edge of the marble bar when Kamil came in shaking a fist full of loose papers, a self-satisfied grin exposing his wide-spaced shark teeth in full regalia.

“For fuck’s sake…’

I couldn’t help it.  It just slipped out in the next breath.  1D looked at me, but I think after bollocking Erich on that last shift together, he was prepared for further anti-social behaviour from me, the new somm.

“Kamil gives us these on occasion; they’re really quite useful”.

His sentence sounded optimistic, but his face betrayed otherwise.

‘You guys.  Finish coffee, is time for quiz’.

It was childish of me, but I dragged out the very last drop of my Americano and even clanked my spoon around the inside of the cup before joining Eoin and 1D at table two.  Seems Eoin had already been plugging away for a good fifteen minutes; he was beginning to perspire.  We only had about ten minutes more before briefing started, and from what I’d seen, Eoin needed every second he could find.

I leafed through the stack Kamil had given me.  Three pages, one of them upside down and all of them littered with spelling and grammatical errors.  Generally, though, it wasn’t much of a challenge.  The questions were mostly specific to Seedling’s list and I’d done my due diligence in studying up.  I liked Mike, yes, but I certainly didn’t want to end up on his bad side by faltering on a wine some night.

Main grapes in Valpolicella, what region Bardolino, what is oak regime(he means ‘regimen’ I assume) on Ehmoser Gruner, what is the RS on Jacques Picard, check, Kumeu River is where…shit I know it’s New Zealand, but can’t remember the appellation.  Skip.  Givry is where in Burgundy, Chalonnaise, duh and…

I was unsure on a few, but done in five.  That was a mistake.  Because, it gave Kamil five minutes to correct it and come back to me in time for briefing.  He put up one index finger and then waved me back to join him at table six, like he was a fucking college admissions officer.

‘Sit down.  Fine.  So, Kumeu River is Auckland.  You put North Island.  North Island is not a wine-growing region’.

‘Yes, yes…’

‘The Valpolicella is Corvina, Rondinella and Molinara, but Marinella sometimes uses Croatina and Rossara, also’.

‘Oh, I thought the question was on Valpolicella, not specifically the Corte Sant’Alda’.

‘No, it is clear is about Corte Sant’Alda’.

‘But it just says “Valpolicella”’.

Kamil gave me a solid glare.  Not a passing look.  It was a glare.  Suddenly I wasn’t in Covent Garden, I was in ‘Full Metal Jacket’.

‘Bardolino is Veneto, not Verona’.

OK, now I was irritted.  I’d begun my wine career in Italian wine and wasn’t easily cowed.

‘Bardolino is a DOC on Lake Garda in the Province of Verona’.

The Sniper smiled slightly, his little daggers half-showing.  Then he shook his head as if in disbelief he had to put up with such insubordination from lower staffers.

“Yes, fine, you say Verona.  But main wine region is Veneto, and Bardolino is inside Veneto wine region”.

If I were to split hairs on that one, I suppose from a wine perspective - not geographic - Veneto was right and Verona was not.  Touche. I gritted my teeth and tried to return to my wide-eyed newbie persona rather than invite a battle.

‘Ah, yes.  Don’t know what I was thinking’.

“Anyways, not bad start.  You will have more of these.  More chance to improve’.  

He started to shuffle the papers, an unspoken sign that I could leave when the mystery woman in leather skirt and knee-high boots sidled up to the table.

‘Kamil, Hannah says the plimsouls are bothering you, yes?’

Kamil smiled as toothily as I’ve ever seen; he squared his shoulders and his eyes brightened like a labrador puppy at the sight of lamb fat.

‘Yes, this is true.  It’s just making it hard to work the service, sometimes does’.

‘Listen, I looked at the suggestion you gave Hannah.  The blue Skechers?  Darling, perfectly fine by me.  Just save the receipt and we will credit it back to you on your next payslip.  Paul…’

Kamil looked at me and I looked at him and then I looked up at the mystery lady less with puppy dog eyes and more with cat in litterbox covering up shit panic face.

‘Paul, why don’t you just go ahead and do the same, yes?  I mean, nobody our age should be wearing plimsouls, anyways, am I right?’

She smiled and cocked her head to one side.  I may be a homosexual, but she was as dazzling to me as she was to the rest of the Y chromosome Seedling team.  I simply nodded.

‘Well, that solves that.  Why don’t the two of you go together between shifts.  It’s only a ten minute walk up to Long Acre.  Sorry, darlings, have to run’.

With that she turned and decidedly did not run.  Kamil’s eyes followed her for a few beats, just until he noticed that I’d noticed.

‘Fine.  We go between shifts.  Three p.m. at Salon Bar and don’t make me wait’.



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