Stan Lerner, editor-in-chief and creator of Downtownster is a revered cohort for whom I am indebted to Mike Berger, the subject of this entry, for making possible our acquaintance. Mr. Lerner has been googled over 1.2 million times; his blogs (articles for Downtownster and his satirical serial Downtown Oliver Brown) have around 2 million hits; he is a screenwriter receiving residuals in seeming perpetuity; he is published in hardcover as a novelist, a long-form satirist and a children’s book author. I am honored that he invited me to be a guest contributor to this blog and, after much consideration concerning what form to proffer (e.g., an op-ed piece, a film review, a vignette, etc.), I found it “altogether fitting and proper” to pay homage to Mr. Berger. This piece however, strictly speaking, could be classified as a restaurant review. The restaurant is an ad hoc wine bar and it is Mr. Berger’s one-man show.
On the north side of 9th Street between Hope and Flower – as any denizen of downtown knows – is the entrance to Ralphs Market. Its manifestation on the cityscape was like an oasis created by a meteor. At last, under one roof, downtown had a purveyor of some of the most essential trappings of civilization. What too many apparently do not know is, that within this architecturally unimaginative space, like gleaming crystals in a geode, lay a treasure for wine enthusiasts unparalleled anywhere in Los Angeles. On Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays between five and eight p.m., one can get both the best value and the best wines by-the-glass downtown. For twelve hours a week, four nights of happy hours, if you will…. Don’t blink or you’ll miss out. This is all because the store opened with an exceptional department manager. You see, dear reader, with the advent of this civilization, like a gift from an extraterrestrial race, came a subtle, dedicated, dyed-in-the-wool service professional – a one-off, wine and spirits manager by the name of Mike Berger. That’s right, you read correctly, in Ralphs Market.
Part of what makes him seem like he dropped in from another planet is the complete absence of the more-knowledgeable-than-thou baggage associated with wine experts of all stripes. Yet, Mr. Berger is at least a fourth-dan black belt in the fine art of wine and spirits. It is equally other worldly to see one so perspicacious and sentient in a Ralphs uniform vest smiling affably at some nimrod. Did I see him winking at another of the incognito beings sent to infuse refinement into our downtown culture?
A large man possessing a full head of fine dark hair, and an excellent, unlined brow which presides over keen brown eyes and a remarkably smooth, pink-tinged complexion, Mr. Berger hosts the best happy hour for wine drinkers in the downtown area. He has a determined yet unaggressive mouth and is always impeccably clean-shaven. This fresh, youthful appearance makes him look a generation younger but belies a wisdom that becomes apparent to any engaged listener. There is a cultivated depth to his softly spoken tenor voice as he, with unfailingly polite deference, holds forth to the assembled imbibers a condensed education on the evening’s four or five wine offerings, like some exegete of the cannons of all-too-arcane wine jargon.
The first time I heard this voice I was seeking produce and potables for a spur of the moment party invitation. This was in early September of 2007. Suddenly, an unusual announcement wafted over the store’s P.A. system: “…we’re tasting rosés…perfect wine for the summer months…”. I only registered part of the message. It’s somewhat serendipitously strange I noticed at all, since I am oblivious to such background noise in any shopping venue, as I believe most people are, just like the sound of traffic. It all translates subconsciously to: “Attention Kmart shoppers”. Perhaps it was because of Mr. Berger’s unobtrusive vocal delivery but more likely, for me, it was the Pavlovian keywords: wine, rosés, tasting. Having thus been skewered through the cheek with the proverbial hook, I followed his directions involuntarily to the wine tasting area.
This sectioned off area has the highest ceiling in the store. It is separated on the entrance side by a four-foot fence-like wall dividing it from the deli and the main communal dining area. Shared by deli patrons, it is a sort of indoor beer garden, the effect of which is heightened by heavy, black, cast-iron garden tables and chairs. Floor to ceiling twenty-foot high plate glass windows afford an excellent view of the street scene just south of the intersection of 9th and Hope. I later learned it has a special use alcoholic beverage license that permits wine and beer service.
I arrived to discover an unassuming but highly alert man presiding over a makeshift rolling bar that had a marvelous tray of four types of artisanal cheeses priced between $10 and $16 a pound and accompanied by a freshly sliced baguette from the peerless La Brea Bakery. There were likewise four wine buckets chilling dry rosé wines, three from Europe, one from California, priced between $14 and $24 per bottle. I then met Mr. Berger, who did not presume I wanted to know his name; rather, he politely informed me that the tasting of four wines and unlimited buffet privileges would cost me seven dollars. As if this wasn’t a good enough deal, he added: “You get to keep the glass.”. (All right, I must say the glassware was laughable. An old-restaurant style white wine glass with a proper pedestal and stem but too conical a bowl to be good for swirling. The kicker being the kitschy Ralphs logo in fire engine red.) Albeit on paper plates with plastic utensils, I had this bacchanalian feast completely to myself. This is a function of dry rosé being somewhat of an orphan wine category in the United States.
I then began to notice that attractive women of all ages could be seen both inside and outside the store from this vantage point. I could spend all day watching the feminine form navigate sidewalks, push shopping carts, peruse display cases, hold up and evaluate items for purchase or any other thing that they do. The pleasure of this lifelong avocation is only enhanced by fine wines and hors-d’oeuvres. I commented on this to Mr. Berger, as I introduced myself and learned his name. He explained: he had selected the cheeses to pair with each wine; the wines’ grape varietals, style, region, etc.; what types of food pairs well with each; and the frequency of the wine tastings themselves. After consuming roughly three glasses, heavily weighted towards re-tasting my favorite and sating my appetite with supercheeses, I decided to forgo the party. I had stayed until the end and Mr. Berger had suffered through some two hours of my mindless prattle and hyper-enthusiastic ranting on wine in general. This can be pretty bad. I’ve even been accused of being an oenophiliac: one who derives sexual pleasure from wine. Continue reading The Extraordinary Case of Mike Berger →
