Recently, my wife (Anne) and I found ourselves facing a table covered in cheeses, dried fruits, olives, crackers, all backdropped by six black-bagged bottles of mysterious wines. This, in the middle of our old digs, a place so deeply familiar yet newly furnished by unfamiliar guts. Our friends, Virginia and Patrick, now lived there and the furnishments were theirs. They also supplied the mystery we faced that evening, having heard of times that we had managed a blind wine tasting. We brought cheese, crackers, and incisive curiosity.