A man goes to the Lucas Carlton in Paris with his girlfriend and orders the 1928 Mouton. The waiter returns with a decanter of wine and pours a small amount into the glass for the man to sample.
The customer picks up the glass, tests the nose, puts down the wine with a thud and announces “This is NOT the 1928 Mouton.”
The waiter assures him that it is, and as the discussion ensues, there is shortly a small group surrounding the table, including the Chef, Chief Sommelier, and Hotel Manager insisting that it is indeed a 1928 Mouton. Finally a diner at a nearby table asks ” How do you KNOW that it’s not a 1928 Mouton?”
“My name is Phillipe de Rothschild, and I own the winery, and make the wine.”
Finally the waiter steps forward and admits that he poured a 1928 Clerc Milon. “I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. Clerc Milon is in the same village as Mouton, the grapes, which are the same cepage, are picked and crushed at the same time, using the same methods, you use 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 geographic distance.”
Rothschild looks at the waiter and says: “Tonight, when you go home, ask your wife to remove her underwear. Put one finger in one opening, and another finger in the other. Smell both fingers, and then you will understand what a difference a small geographic distance makes.”
...And This Is Why We Drink™