An elderly gentleman goes to the famous Lucas Carton restaurant in Paris with his girlfriend where he orders a 1928 Mouton Rothschild .
The waiter returns with a decanted wine in a beautiful crystal carafe and 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 Rothschild."
Well, the waiter assures him it is, and soon there are another twenty people surrounding the table, including the chef and the manager, all trying to convince the man that the wine is the 1928 Mouton Rothschild.
Finally someone asks him how he knows that it is not the 1928 Mouton Rothschild, to which the man answers, -"My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I make the wine."
Then the original waiter steps forward and admits that he poured the 1928 Clerc Milon. -"I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton Rothschild. And you know, Clerc Milon it is in the same village as Mouton, you pick the grapes at the same time, in the same type of baskets, 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 then understand what difference a small distance in geographic location makes."
The waiter returns with a decanted wine in a beautiful crystal carafe and 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 Rothschild."
Well, the waiter assures him it is, and soon there are another twenty people surrounding the table, including the chef and the manager, all trying to convince the man that the wine is the 1928 Mouton Rothschild.
Finally someone asks him how he knows that it is not the 1928 Mouton Rothschild, to which the man answers, -"My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I make the wine."
Then the original waiter steps forward and admits that he poured the 1928 Clerc Milon. -"I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton Rothschild. And you know, Clerc Milon it is in the same village as Mouton, you pick the grapes at the same time, in the same type of baskets, 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 then understand what difference a small distance in geographic location makes."
1928 Mouton Rothschild
1928 Mouton Rothschild