Pass me a blue robe.

I think I've graduated.

In the world of wine, there are baby steps one must take before moving on to the next level.

Basic levels:

1. "OMG I'm totally drinking wine!"
2. "Heck, this is pretty cool... aaaand legal."
3. "What are we waiting for? Pop open the Bordeaux."

At level one, we drink wine coolers or white zinfandel. Neither of which can actually be classified as wine. And neither of which we come to be particularly proud of. But it's just a phase, it shall pass.

Level two, it's the easy white wines. The ones that still kinda taste like a simple, chilled fruit juice. But they have a little kick in them.

Level three, we're down to the good stuff. The deep, complex wines that stain your glass. The ones that make your food taste better. The ones that make your stomach warm. The ones with that special something you detect on the nose; and though you can't quite call it, you know it makes the wine better.

I went to hibachi this week and ordered my tofu stir-fry and California Riesling, which used to be my favorite. Not anymore. It was like drinking apple juice. I was hardly interested. (And at $6.50 a glass, I really should have been.) I wanted something more intricate. Something that I had to work at figuring out. I wanted more than alcoholic fruit juice.

I'm excited to see what my taste buds crave next.