The Wine Bar

Before I go on, I must admit I'm not educated about wine. Anything I know I learned from the movies and from Avery Kamilla's "Spit or Swallow" article in The Maine Switch. My perspective on what a wine bar should be is skewed, I'm sure.

I'm supposed to look kind of nice, right? I guess I could wear jeans, as long as I'm not topping it off with a wife beater. I imagine walking into a dimly lit room, with exposed brick walls and sexy people everywhere. At the bar I say things like "What is the varietal of this Pinot Noir," leaving out that I refuse to spend more than $10 on a bottle at Hannaford and that I would have never even tried that type of wine if I hadn't seen Sideways. I toss the wine around the glass without spilling any and gingerly sip it without chugging or dripping any on my blouse. I nod to the bartender, agreeing that the wine is, indeed, spectacular and ask for the bottle.

With this visualization in mind, I went to the Wine Bar not once, not twice, but three times. And this wasn't because I loved the place so much I had to return. It was because they weren't open during regular business hours. I advise you to call ahead before getting all fancy, fighting for a parking spot and tip-toeing through the snow and cobble stones.

When I found the doors unlocked, finally, I walked upstairs to find a my visualization to be quite true. The lights were very dim - little lanterns hung over some of the tables and lamps were sprinkled throughout - and the exposed brick walls and pipes overhead, along with the mishmash of couches, proved as cozy as it looked.

The atmosphere is laid back, not as stuffy as I'd thought a wine bar would be. You get the feeling of being out, but the comfort of being home, too. The patrons are a mix of middle-agers, thirty-somethings and hipsters. The bartender assured me it's not a pick-up place - they don't allow such cheap behavior. This is the kind of place you go with a small crowd to share opinions on the current economy, fantasize about your next trip south or talk shop.

Before I lay into my major complaint about the Wine Bar, there are a few things to know.

1. They serve appetizers like bruschetta, cheese and fruit plate, quesadillas, pizettes, mussels (ranging from $4-14) and desserts including creme brulee and a chocolate torte (both $6). The bruschetta hit the spot and a friend of mine gushes about the cheese and fruit plate. Everything is home-made with the exception of the pizza dough.

2. If you don't drink wine (um, why are you even there?), you can drink well drinks for $6 or drafts (HSA, Allagash and Miller Lite) for $4. There's also a long list of specialty cocktails including "Ebony & Ivory" (Godiva white and dark chocolate, vanilla vodka and Bailey's), "N-17" (Irish whiskey, Bailey's, Frangelico and cream) and Graceland (Maker's Mark, lemon, mint, brown sugar and soda).

3. I like numbering things.

4. There's a ghost in the Wine Bar. The bartender said he's dressed in khaki pants and a dark green work shirt. He just walks around every now and again, not doing anything more menacing than rattling up the occasional worker who thought he or she was alone. I guess a lot of people have seen him.

Now on to the wines. One would think a bar that specializes in wine -- so much so the name is The Wine Bar -- would inspire a reviewer to write a book about the wine varieties. I planned to spend a good twenty minutes digging into the wine menu. Instead I found a dry-erase board with the night's varieties - just six whites and five reds! There were eleven choices if you don't count the five port and dessert wines listed on the menu. I have to admit I was disappointed.

The wine menu changes, but not regularly. While I was hoping to get a some wine education, I could probably learn more at the wine section in Whole Foods. But, don't let the small selection stop you from going to the Wine Bar. It's still worth a visit - maybe even a few. The atmosphere is chill, the food is decent and, with the right company, you could have a first-class evening.