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YOU
think this is expensive? And to drive home the point,
Alex Lichaytoo shows me a bottle of Argento, the
Mendoza
malbec, at P375. We were in the inner sanctum of
Bacchus, his wine shop, perched on stools along one
narrow corner, my back against the rack holding the
bottles with famous labels: the Catena Zapata malbec
2002, the Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars 1998 Cask 23, and
Christian Mouiex’s Dominus Napa Valley 2000. Here, in
the L-shaped room where the temperature coasts along an
even 12 degrees, Alex Lichaytoo is at home among the
bottles of wine nestling on wine racks, the latticed
private wine lockers, the wine bins and the wooden cases
stacked one on top of the other, burnished golden by the
soft glow of the antique hanging lamps.
 From
the sidewalk, the shop’s glass façade gives an
intimation of what lies inside. There is a glimpse of
the wines—and also of Riedel wine glasses, Lavazza
coffee, Valrhona chocolate and Le Creuset cookware,
premium labels that collectively spells “expensive.” The
doorman in the barong and the shop’s plush address,
6750 Ayala Avenue,
only add to the myth of hauteur. Just the thing that
Mr. Lichaytoo wants to dispel. Our paths had
crisscrossed over the years, and not just because of
wine, but also because I am a fan of his sister Winnie
Go, a gifted pottery artist who is given to storing some
of her creations in used wine crates. Just before
Christmas last year, at a tasting of Italian wines that
he had organized for the Cheese Club, he dropped the
irresistible line: “I’ll let you in on some Bacchus
secrets the next time.” And so I had come back, fueled
by curiosity.
Bacchus
carries some 300 labels from about 80 vineyards spread
out across the major wine-producing regions.
Bordeaux
does figure prominently in its portfolio because Mr.
Lichaytoo had been collecting—and drinking it—about
eight years before Bacchus even came to be. It was the
case of a passion that played out into a business
enterprise. Not that it was something Mr. Lichaytoo and
his brother Clifford had intended. What they were
drinking, friends wanted more of—and wanted to buy; they
started Bacchus in 1995. This journey from wine
aficionado to wine importer has largely contributed to
the company’s mission statement, engraved on a brass
plate, just beneath the gaze of a plaster image of the
wine god Bacchus: “Our mission is to provide wines that
have been cared for under strict temperature controlled
conditions. We ship our wines only by reefer container;
store by refrigerated warehouse; and guarantee the
authenticity of all our products.”
In his
award-winning book Adventures on the Wine Route, the
famous wine merchant Kermit Lynch explains all too well
the merits of shipping via reefers,
temperature-controlled containers used for transporting
perishable food items. Wine, he believes, is a
perishable item, too. And because the climate during the
voyage is unpredictable, the wine can therefore suffer
extremes of temperature and arrive at its destination
dead—or with some sort of maladie. Mr. Lichaytoo is of
the same sentiment. For years, the company has been
dealing with a specialist wine shipper that maintains
refrigerated warehouses all over the world. If we charge
just a little bit more because of the cost of shipping,
it is because we want our customers to feel secure that
the wines they buy from us taste like what they are
supposed to, he adds.
The bulk
of the business is not the top
Bordeaux
and Burgundies, but the everyday wines, most of them
under P1,500. These are the secrets hidden among the
racks and the bins; the great-value wines that taste
like they cost three times more. And because the
brothers Lichaytoo want people to discover these wines
on their own (isn’t that part of the pleasure?), they
leave clues. Like tags that say “Alex’s choice” and
“Cliff’s favorite.” Or the neon-colored stickers on the
“sale” bins, holding incredible finds for the intrepid
treasure hunter.
It was
in one of those bins, among the P500 bottles, that I
found a Chinon, the Clos de l’Echo Crescendo, made by
Couly-Dutheil, one of the best producers in the Loire.
Did I know that Joan of Arc stayed at the castle on its
vineyards? It was a 1997, one of the last three bottles
available. Can a cabernet franc live that long? I called
a drinking buddy and over a dinner fashioned from pantry
staples (torta española and linguini with a
tuna-caper-red onion-pecorino sauce), we marveled at the
wine’s finesse. We knew it would be over the hill soon,
but it was going there in great style.
Bacchus
holds still more secrets. But the thrill of discovery is
the reward for those who would see beyond its image of
exclusivity and expensiveness. Go past that smiling
doorman and the helpful store clerks. And in the wine
room, choose among the bottles so carefully shepherded
on their long journey to Manila. The clues are there.
Seek...and you shall find. |
