Where the 'the usual' is never on the menu

It was only a liquor store, but before opening the door I straightened my tie and passed a hankie over my shoes: I worried that this might really be one of those smirking private clubs that maintain the right to use the adjective “exclusive” against certain types who might seek admission.     

Besides the gleam off thousands of dust-free bottles of wine, liquor and beer — many with labels I’d never seen before — the setting included a 26-door cooler, a walk-in cigar humidor, a walk-around-carefully wine cellar, complete with stemware; a wine-tasting lounge, wide-screen TVs beaming lore about the grape and some very unique counter displays.

These included seven containers of vodka, styled like Fabergé egg shells, two-toned in nacreous pearl and darker baked enamel and banded in 21-karat lasered gold — obviously replicated from a Tsarist Russia design. Each egg (the size of an American football) when opened up reveals a decanter of vodka and a merry-go-round of little shot glasses. Price tag — $1,000 per egg.

As a counterpoint — and the only thing that looked out of place amidst majesty — there was a pyramid of 880 cases of Grey Goose vodka. It stretched from floor to vaulted ceiling, compelling attention to a sale at $23.99 per 720 ml. bottle. What a deal! One shot of Grey Goose, and the sound of ice tinkling against crystal, can cost you $10 in a modern bar.

Surprisingly, all regular prices on liquor here are very competitive. “We’re about $1 more or $1 less than Costco, but we have a greater selection and offer smaller sizes,” said Manager John Nigoghosian.

But I wasn’t here for price comparisons; I wanted to christen the new barbecue season with some special wine you can’t find in liquor store-starved Pasadena. It would not be drink for a common luau where cheap vodka would do in any beheaded pineapple; or for a powwow of jocks who pounded Budweiser while the steaks burned. To impress my guests from the East Coast, my barbecue would feature grilled oysters.

Like a Chesapeake Bay pro, I’d haul the plump morsels off the fire at the exact moment the shell opened; and while their soft fawn-gray color was turning a golden brown, I’d hit them with butter and cayenne and brush with some vinegary prep of cloves, parsley and basil.

But what wine sublime is there to match the ecstatic moment? A Chablis? Nigoghosian turned me over to Pete Sandoval, a sommelier without credentials. “A French Chablis like Albert Pic ($34.95) would be fine,” said Sandoval, who, I’d learn, has a reputation as a wine taster who can discern the most elusive flavors. Though both are made from the same Chardonnay grapes, “The French Chablis,” he said, “has more mineral in it than buttery California Chardonnay.”

But for oysters, Sandoval said that a 2006 Pouilly Fumé ($21.99) “would be superior to Chablis,” and a Spanish Muga rose blush for only $10.99 “would be excellent and with chicken, too.”

Sandoval and Nigoghosian work for Vic Mankerian, a local who attended Marshall High School and Pasadena City College and worked as a teenager at the original Mission Liquor store next door, which his family purchased in 1979. The original store has shut down in favor of this completely remodeled building that once was a thrift store.

Remembering Sandoval’s counsel that a few bottles of $10.99 wine would pay the oyster sufficient tribute, I settle on the Spanish Muga blush and then toured the store.

The walk-in cigar thermidor, lined in Spanish cedar, was no place for a reformed smoker. The sight and aroma of a beautiful array of Davidoffs ($20 each) and Arturo Fuente curly heads ($3), made me want to cry out, “Oh, how I love the smell of toast in the morning.” It reminded me of the gorgeous whiffs of toast I’d gotten in the sunshine of my happy youth whenever I cracked opened a pack of unfiltered Pall Malls.

The 26-door cooler contained everything from a 24-pack of Heineken for $22.99 to a single bottle of rich Belgium Chimay beer for $9.99. The wine-tasting lounge was awaiting guests for regular evening samples – often five varietals for $5. In the wine cellar, there was a bottle of Domaine Romanée Conti La Tâche Burgundy for $4,000 that I didn’t touch. The tequila section contained everything from $10 bottles to Patron Burderos for $500. There was space on a shelf for a bottle of Clase Azul Anniversary, on order for $1,800.

This is a drinking establishment where where “the usual” is never an order.