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The Wine Master

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"If it were distributed in Missouri, everybody like us who has a really deep wine list — we would all want it," explains Andy Ayers. "We all saw it and said, 'Wow! What's up here?'"

The California vineyard only produces several hundred cases a year, and distributes its wines only by mailing list. The cost: $500 a bottle. The wait to get on the mailing list is said to be seven to ten years long. On the resale market, Screaming Eagle nets $1,500 minimum.

"I've heard of horror stories in divorce battles here in St. Louis," notes Hoel, "where the couple didn't care about the house. They cared about who got to stay on the Screaming Eagle mailing list."

"It's a $2,500 bottle of wine," says Lester Miller, Busch's Grove's principal owner. "We were able to get some. We bought a few bottles, and after we opened Busch's, it was determined that Screaming Eagle is not registered [with wholesalers] in Missouri."

Miller says the restaurant subsequently withdrew the gray-market wine from its menu. Although Missouri's Division of Alcohol and Tobacco Control (ATC) investigated the Ladue-based eatery, Busch's Grove was not cited for any violations.

That was not the case for the Wine Chateau, a Chesterfield retailer. In late 2004 ATC fined the store's owner, Brian Hartsfield, $1,500 for purchasing a 2001 Tua Rita Giusto dei Notri, a Tuscan red, directly from an importer. Says Hartsfield, "Tua Rita is one of the greatest wineries in Italy, and that was a wonder year."

Hartsfield wishes he had the freedom to buy on the gray market. "Distributors carry a lot of inventory, but they also do things they're not supposed to, like bundles: To get the good wine they make you buy the bad wine," he explains. "I personally don't see the difference between going to an auction and buying an antique piece of furniture versus a bottle of wine."

Pete Lobdell, commissioner of Missouri's ATC, says the agency rarely prosecutes violators of the three-tier rule, partly because it doesn't have the resources to seek out cheaters. Investigations only begin when rival establishments snitch on one another.

Nonetheless, the agency wants to ensure "an orderly marketplace" and keep organized crime out of the liquor business, Lobdell says. "We will fight to preserve the three-tier system."

"One more thing," complains wine consultant Marc Lazar, "to keep St. Louis in the dark ages."

The week before the Master Sommelier exam, Chris Hoel took time off from Monarch to brush up for the exam. His cramming began on a bittersweet note when a friend returned from Florida toting the dessert-wine list from Bern's Steak House, a legendary Tampa eatery that boasts of having the largest restaurant wine cellar in the world.

Hoel was ecstatic to have the menu for a study aid ("I'd pay $500 for their entire wine list!") but became uneasy when he turned to the section on Madeira, a Portuguese fortified wine he thought he'd mastered. "I came across an entire Madeira sub-region I had no idea even existed. It was very upsetting."

Pounding vitamin C and milk thistle for the immune system, Hoel spent the week making sure to wait fifteen minutes for all of his food and drinks to cool. "If I burn my mouth I won't be able to taste anything," he explains.

Hoel appeared confident rushing off to the airport from his Sunday Wine Clinic on March 18. "Bring back the Krug!" yelled one of his students, referring to the coveted Krug Cup trophy awarded to the sommelier who passes the Master's on the first try. Only twelve people in the Court's 38-year history have done it.

If Hoel succeeded in San Francisco, there might be a momentous decision to make — namely, whether or not to stay in St. Louis. "The Krug is like the Stanley Cup," he says. "It's a pretty big deal for hotels and restaurants to get their hands on it."

Hoel arrived at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel exam site and found he was one of a record 58 contenders — but only thirteen newcomers. "Very disheartening," he says.

The 25-minute blind tasting on Day 1 of the test went well. But during the oral quiz on Day 2, the sommelier's confidence slipped. "They were asking about a liqueur off the island of Cyprus. I was like, 'OK, next.'"

None of the Masters ignited Hoel's tablecloths during the service test on Day 3, but several repeatedly tried to topple his tray. When Hoel referred to a Grüner Veltliner, an Austrian white, as "schizophrenic," one of the Masters berated him. "He said: 'My aunt's schizophrenic! I'm very offended, and I'm two seconds away from getting the maître'd over here and firing your dumb ass!'"

On Day 4, Hoel walked into the judges' chambers, where the verdict would be rendered by a Master from Texas. The Court only gives each candidate a few details on his performance, in private.

Hoel learned that he successfully identified four of the six wines in the tasting, when five are necessary. The Court also took him to task for not spelling out each wine's characteristics — earth, fruit and wood — in the same order each time.

As for the oral exam, Hoel flubbed enough "obscure" questions — "Where is Meerlust located?" (Twenty-four miles from Cape Town) — to fall six percentage points short of the 75 percent needed to pass.

In the table-service category, Hoel was told his style is "cold and rigid," and that he needs to loosen up and not be so formal. "Another criticism," says Hoel, "was giving too much information. I think they thought it was showing off or cocky or arrogant."

He was finally informed that he's at a disadvantage not having any Masters in St. Louis to tutor him.

Hoel failed the test.

With eleven months to get ready for next year's exam, Hoel wandered into a cocktail bar at the Mandarin and ordered a drink. "I had a Manhattan, up, as strong as I could get her to make it," he remembers. "I think it was Booker's. It's a lot higher in alcohol — about 124-proof bourbon."

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