Batali spoke at length, his entire body vibrating and jiggling like Jell-O.
"Château Latour. Perhaps France's finest wine. This bottle is from 1996, an excellent year for Château Latour Pauillac. A red Bordeaux from the Bordeaux region of France, wine connoisseurs the world around have come to know Château Latour as the name in fine drinking."
Batali uncorked the bottle. He inhaled deeply from the cork. His face furrowing into deep, gelatinous thought.
He poured a massive glass of wine, rotating the deep red liquid around the expensive, stemless wine glass. Batali leaned in close toward the camera. His beard was unevenly shaven and his entire face seemed to be made of butter. Then he threw the wine in his face.
Screaming into the camera now, Batali repeated over and over, "CHATEAU LATOUR! CHATEAU LATOUR!"
His purplish-red wine stained visage was horrific. The wine made his face expand and contort. Batali pressed his terrible purple face into the camera's lens, occupying the whole shot and mushing his already porcine features into a muddled grimace. Wine stained the camera lens and Batali grappled with the cameraman.
The wine drenched man continued chanting, "CHATEAU LATOUR! CHATEAU LATOUR!"
Batali was in a frenzy, now pouring the remnants of the magnum bottle of wine over his unusually large head.
"CHATEAU LATOUR! CHATEAU LATOUR!"
Batali's screams were getting louder and louder from the television.
I was unable to cope with Batali's vulgar display. I took a huge swill of overproof peppermint schnapps and put on the extreme motorcycle building channel.
