A man goes to the famous Lucas Carton restaurant in Paris
with his girlfriend and orders the 1928 Mouton.
The waiter returns with a bottle full of wine, pours a
small amount in the glass for tasting.
The customer picks up the glass, smells the wine, and
puts it down on the table with a thud. "This is not the
1928 Mouton."
The waiter assures him it is, and soon there are another
twenty people surrounding the table, including the chef
and the manager trying to convince the man that the wine
is the 1928 Mouton. Finally someone asks him how he
knows that it is not the 1928 Mouton.
"My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I make the wine."
Finally, the original waiter steps forward and admits
that he poured the Clerc Milon 1928. "I could not bear
to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. You know
Clerc Milon, it is in the same village as Mouton, you
pick the grapes at the same time, the same cepage, you
crush in the same way, you put them into similar
barrels. You bottle at the same time, you even use
eggs from the same chickens to fine them. The wines are
the same, except for a small matter of geographic
location."
Rothschild beckons the waiter forward, and whispers to
him, "When you return home tonight, ask your girlfriend
to remove her underwear. Put one finger in one opening,
another finger in the other, then smell both the
fingers. You will understand what difference a small
distance in geographic location makes."
with his girlfriend and orders the 1928 Mouton.
The waiter returns with a bottle full of wine, pours a
small amount in the glass for tasting.
The customer picks up the glass, smells the wine, and
puts it down on the table with a thud. "This is not the
1928 Mouton."
The waiter assures him it is, and soon there are another
twenty people surrounding the table, including the chef
and the manager trying to convince the man that the wine
is the 1928 Mouton. Finally someone asks him how he
knows that it is not the 1928 Mouton.
"My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I make the wine."
Finally, the original waiter steps forward and admits
that he poured the Clerc Milon 1928. "I could not bear
to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. You know
Clerc Milon, it is in the same village as Mouton, you
pick the grapes at the same time, the same cepage, you
crush in the same way, you put them into similar
barrels. You bottle at the same time, you even use
eggs from the same chickens to fine them. The wines are
the same, except for a small matter of geographic
location."
Rothschild beckons the waiter forward, and whispers to
him, "When you return home tonight, ask your girlfriend
to remove her underwear. Put one finger in one opening,
another finger in the other, then smell both the
fingers. You will understand what difference a small
distance in geographic location makes."
