It all began with a photo...

Somebody recently asked how DucCat and I originally met. Since it naturally involved food, wine and photography, I’ll share the story here.

I’d begun frequenting a restaurant by the name of Aria 51, just as they were starting a monthly wine tasting program. Clutching my ‘new’ Sony Mavica FD-73, I asked the owner for permission to photograph the tasting. He had no problem, so I wandered about, wine glass in one hand, camera in the other.

A couple were talking, looking rather prickly and bristly; you could practically see the ice crystals forming along the edge of their words. They were also in perfect profile, framed just so against the windows, and I whipped out the camera to grab the shot. At the last moment, a man stepped into the background, looking right at me.

I checked the LCD, and there he was in the photo, making direct eye contact, and looking rather frosty himself.


I glanced up to see him still making direct eye contact, not smiling, just looking. I blushed, and he walked over.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said, in a rather intimidating manner.

I laughed it off, telling him that the owner had already given me permission to take photographs of the event. He didn’t seem convinced, but we still made small talk for a few minutes. I would discover in the future that there had been shady dealings going on around the restaurant, and he wasn’t certain if I had some part to play in it.

He abrubtly set his glass down and excused himself, saying he hoped to see me at the next tasting. I still didn’t know his name.

One month later, I was back, but terribly late. He came up to me almost immediately to say hello, and ask if I’d join him in the tasting. Since there was only about 20 minutes left to do the tasting, I told him I didn’t want to pay the $25 ticket price for such a short amount of time.

I excused myself to the restroom, and when I came back out, he held out an empty wine glass towards me. “Your ticket’s paid up, so let’s drink some wine!” We did, and chatted, and laughed, but soon he had to leave. He asked me to join him at dinner that night; I told him I’d already eaten. He asked about the next night- I had plans. He asked about the following night- I didn’t have any excuse for that night, so we agreed to meet back at the restaurant in two nights time for dinner.

He asked for my phone number, and I tried to give him my email address instead. DucCat doesn’t dig on the digital side of life, so it was no wonder that his eyebrow shot skeptically upwards.

The gentleman politely accepted the paper, slid it into his pocket, and bade me goodnight. I stared out the front window for quite some time, without a clue as to where this would end.