You Ask What I’m Doing Here Tonight? Oh, Just Wandering Through a Wine Tasting at That Wealth Mecca, Mar-a-Lago


Tonight Rita and I and two friends of ours, one with a bell ringer last name that evokes oohhs and aahhs whenever we introduce him, will be tasting the finest vintage wines with the wealthiest vintage voters for President Trump at his posh Palm Beach peachy residence, Mar-a-Lago.

Am I a Republican?  Not sure, but tonight I certainly am.  Yet sometimes when I look in the mirror, I can see a Democrat quizzically staring back at me, at least until I shave, put on a dark suit and red tie.

Please don’t ask me what it’s costing us for the privilege tonight as it’s probably enough to feed an entire village in Africa for a few weeks.

Yet I must admit it’s always exciting to wander with elites around the royal residence that was once the estate of Marjorie Merriweather Post.

Marjorie was a colossal businesswoman who hit the Birdseye in brand building as one of the first to see the potential in frozen food.  She was a soaring socialite and Russian art collector (any collusion there, I wonder?) who owned General Foods, a competitor of mine when I was promoting Kellogg’s and writing speeches for its then chairman Bill LaMothe, many of them published in that very un-Mar-a-Logo rag,  The (pardon the expression) New York Times.   

There at palatial Mar a Lago amid all the grandeur and opulence, you’ll find hardly any hoi polloi or pardon my language, Elizabeth Warren types or Bernie Sanders supporters.  Perish the thought.  What an infuriating idea just to Mar-a-Think it.

No doubt we’ll be talking with fellow gentry about the meteoric market rising sky high, hitting thumbs-up new heights, the near full employment, the economy kicking ass and all the other positives our President is presiding over while he eliminates the world’s bad actors who would do us all harm in a heartbeat if they ever got another chance, like the one Obama gave Ayatollah with all that cash. Ugh!

Am I member of Mar-a-Lago?  No, tonight we’re guests of a member.  I belong to the Boca Raton Hotel and Club.  How many clubs can I belong to?  I don’t own a conglomerate, just a boutique PR firm with a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig mouth, TransMedia Group in bubbly Boca Raton.

Okay, we’re at the event.  George, our gracious host shows us around the august premises as we sip our Stonestreet Sauvignon Blanc Aurora 2016 and he points out various aspects of interest, like the bar where Trump’s portrait hangs beside which we did something you’re not allowed to do, have a picture taken.

George then shows us where Trump likes to dine, points to his sleeping quarters upstairs and the pièce de résistance, Trump’s famous American Flagpole parked outside on the lawn that he was forced to shorten as Palm Beach residents complained to the town council the Flag was too high.

So, Trump being Trump, outsmarted his critics by complying with the order to shorten the flagpole by several feet, then replanted it on a hill so that even on a shorter pole his American Flag waved as high as it was before. It was as if the moral of the story was you can’t beat Trump, so you might as well just salute the Flag.

Then we entered one of the elegant smaller dining rooms bedecked for the occasion and started our first course of Crab & Caviar as the Master Sommelier gave us details about the Gran Moraine Chardonnay we were tasting.

Then followed a superb, lightly smoked duck breast with celery & mushroom ravioli and red currant jus served with the first red of the evening, a pinot noir, followed by grilled rib caps with leeks, blackberries, rosemary crumbs and porcini jus with our next tasting, a cabernet sauvignon from Napa, then dessert, a dark chocolate mousse accompanied by a delicious merlot, also from Napa.

We met charming people that sparkling night, including an amiable allergist from Montreal, a jovial gentleman who told us he once lived in Florence, Italy, had a business in Brazil and was on his first date with the lovely woman beside him saying they were in love, so I immediately invited him to the signing of my latest book, “Love Boat 78.”   He said he’d come aboard with pleasure.

In all, it was a marvelous time filled with moments to remember at the magnificent Marjorie Merriweather Post Estate, now President Trump’s capacious and captivating castle, Mar-a-Lago.


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