If you retain nothing else, remember this: Wine is not for the sanctimonious. It is for the thirsty. While the guy with the yellow Ferrari sucks on a mouthful of Montrachet, desperately trying to figure out whether it’s blackberry or fig he’s tasting, you should be leaning back on your banquette in clear-headed, red-toothed ecstasy—because great wine leaves plenty of room for error. Kylie Thompson, sommelier at Fiamma in Manhattan, remembers the best wine he ever had, an ‘82 Bordeaux: “We decanted it into a Star Wars beer stein and drank it out of Chianti glasses while playing Nintendo.” Trust this man—he is a professional.