At two minutes to 6 p.m. Monday, Jan. 25 at the Washington Duke Inn & Golf Club, in the high-ceilinged Presidents Gallery, a glass sang out, struck by a knife playing pitch wand.
Don Ball, the Inn’s director of Food & Beverage, looked satisfied by the sound, and he surveyed the group of some 200 Duke seniors corralled just outside of the Presidents Ballroom for the 2010 Senior Etiquette and Wine Tasting Dinner, hosted through the Career Center. Few introductions passed among them. Instead, within the larger crowd, some silent couples stared vacantly, waiting to be joined. A girl, walking pigeon-toed on high-heels from a recruiting season now fallow, met her friends—her face drawn down with regret to see their flatter footwear.
The seniors stood suit-to-suit, some reveling in reduced courseloads, others observing that they were drinking on a Monday, a certain coup. Ball had likely foreseen this, and, before permitting them to enter the dinner area, he led them in an oath. They were directed to repeat after him, which they did, verbatim: “I, (state your name), as a proud member of the senior class, do solemnly promise not to drink all the wine before it’s time.”
Underneath four chandeliers in the cardinal points of the room were about 20 circular tables dotted with 10 seats. Each white-clothed table was anchored by a blue-glass vase spritzing four roses and bunches of babies breath, four votives and three uncorked and empty bottles. Each place setting kept seven glasses—one for water, the others for wine.
Etiquette educator Sharon Hill, her impossibly curly hair bouncing against her patterned, green-gray lamé skirt suit, greeted the groups that were chatting idly before the program began. Hill is a woman who, on her Web site and in person, professes her hope to “save the world from rude behavior.” For this act of heroism, she commands fees of up to $1,000 an hour, depending on the nature of the event and how far she travels. She only has one rule, she tells each table: “Ask questions!” But really she has a lot of rules, as does American business culture. Hill was accompanied by Susan Holmer, a Duke parent and wine educator for Terlato Wines International, which furnished the wine. Holmer’s son was unable to reserve a seat at the event, which filled up on the DukeCard Web site less than a few hours after registration opened at noon Jan. 18.
Christina Azimi, senior class president, took the stage around 6:15 p.m. The platform was bare except for a few standing microphones, a plant or two and a blue spotlight that, though jewel-toned, looked harshly commercial. “Here’s two opportunity, zero limitations, one Duke family and zero hesitations,” she said, raising her Prosecco. “Here is to 2010—more than just a number.”
The muffled clink of more than a hundred slender flutes followed, the sound caught in the throat of the glass. “That reminds me,” Ball said. “Never hold a glass of wine from the bowl.” At once the group re-learned to balance their beverage, fingering the stem, and clicked and sipped again.
Tom Szigethy, director of Substance Abuse Prevention & Health Promotion Center, noted the potential contradiction of his presence at a drinking event. “Keep in mind,” he said, “this is a professional event from which you should be able to leave professionally.”
The professional event comprised five courses—for the carnivores, saffron poached prawns, mushroom and leek soup, duck confit with truffle potatoes and a selection of dry cheeses before a dessert and coffee buffet. These were accompanied by six wines, which followed a gradient from sparkling to white to red. Terlato is the leading marketer of luxury wines in America, and the wines provided participants with an exercise in pairings. The Terlato Pinot Grigio, the versatile Quickfire Chardonnay, made specially for Top Chef, the bridge Sanford Pinot Noir, a rich Rutherford Hill Merlot and a Chimney Rock Cabernet Sauvignon. The final wine’s cousin, Chimney Rock’s Elevage Blanc, a white Bordeaux blend, had a cameo in “Sex and the City: The Movie,” the scene in which Carrie and Big discuss marriage as merger. Big, for the record, holds the glass by the body. (Coincidentally, Holmer disclosed, the wine will also appear in the movie’s sequel.)
Hill spoke of the sign language of silverware, and of communicating to a server through the napkin. The knife should rest across the top of the plate, spearing 11 o’clock and 1 o’clock, and they should lie tine-down across 10 o’clock and 4 o’clock to request that a plate can be removed.
There was a morality-tale quality to the caution with which one should dine, and Hill attempted to teach the brand of psychology that governs networking dinner, wherein eating behavior reflects all sorts of deplorable personal qualities. Seasoning food before tasting it, for example, could be a clue that the seasoner is brash and unwilling to adapt. A wise diner would never order from a menu first, either, and should instead take price cues from the host. Hill’s oft-repeated refrain, “You’ve lost the job!” warned diners of the pitfalls of broken etiquette rules.
A gentleman would never toss a tie over his shoulder or tuck it into a shirt, and it’s a polite person’s imperative to inform a dinner companion of spinach wedged in his or her teeth. One should not “dunk” bread, even if it means leaving a shadow in the soup bowl. It would be inappropriate to order cocktails when others have ordered wine—err on the side of sobriety—and it would be worse to suck the marrow from a duck bone.
Red-wine drinkers who loathe the stain of the drink should take heart: they’re in good company. But is there a way, one sufferer inquired, to avoid the blotchy phenomenon known as Asian glow? Szigethy fielded this one, noting that the flush is caused by a deficiency of an enzyme that breaks down alcohol, and happens regardless of the particular variety of alcohol consumed. His expression of futility over the questioner’s dilemma—to drink or to save certain face—met with peals of laughter. “So,” he concluded. “It’s up to you.”
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