|A man went to a famous Parisian restaurant with his girlfriend and ordered the 1928 Mouton. The waiter returned with the bottle, poured a taste into a glass.|
The customer picked up the glass, smelled the wine, and put it down with a thud, "This is not the 1928 Mouton."
The waiter assured him that it was and soon a small crowd surrounded the table to convince him the wine was the 1928 Mouton.
Eventually someone asked, "What makes you think it is not the 1928 Mouton?"
"Because my name is Phillipe de Rothschild. I make the wine."
The original waiter blushed and admitted that he poured a Clerc Milon 1928.
"I could not bear to part with our last bottle of 1928 Mouton. You know Clerc Milon: it is from the same village as Mouton, you pick the grapes at the same time, the same cepage, you crush in the same way, you put them in similar barrels, you bottle them at the same time, and even use eggs from the same chickens to refine them. The wines are the same, save for a small distance of geographic location."
Rothschild responded, `When you go to bed tonight with your wife, put one finger in one opening, another finger in the other, and then smell both fingers. Then you may understand the difference a small distance in geographic location makes!"