Wine server: Janenne “S” (as in “skeptical” about giving her last name to a stranger pointing a camera in her face?)
Where she learned her vino 101:
“I’ve been trained through the restaurant. I learn as I go, and I ask a lot of questions and sample the wine with the experts.”
Recommendation: “It all depends on your taste. Everyone’s palate is different,” especially when you’re dealing with a 900-bottle monster of a wine list. But it’s never risky to pour a glass of 2005 Two Hands Bella’s Garden Shiraz from Australia, which -- rated at 94 points -- is “the second best shiraz in the world.” The world! No word on which shiraz is first.
Tastes like: $20 worth of inky, plump, purple plums and mulberry, with a tiny bit of anise and cedar spice. De-freaking-licious. Vintage Lounge can serve this class of wine by the glass because of a fancy tap system that preserves the wine airtight in the bottle between pours (like a keg for rich people).
So this is your favorite drink? “Personally, I like Chardonnay.”
So Chardonnay is your favorite drink? “Well, this isn’t where people drink my favorite -- I can tell you, but you can’t tell anyone …”
Recipe that would kick ass if Bud Light happened to be her favorite drink: Beer ‘ritas -- pour a Bud Light, can of frozen limeade, and a bunch of tequila in a blender. Blend.
On breathing: Easier. The swank, leather-drenched, 21st-floor nook (is that Spokane I see out the window?) used to be a premiere cigar bar until lawmakers decided two years ago that smoking and lungs in public could no longer commingle. It’s a good change, according to Janenne’s bronchia: “When you worked in that environment every day, you didn’t realize the effect it had on you until later.”
On mingling: With celebrities like Stephen Spielberg and notable local software tycoons frequently sipping in the finely-upholstered shadows, please, please -- be cool. “You won’t last long in here if you start asking them too many questions or being obnoxious.”
Putting my tab to shame: Vintage Lounge is known to host Seahawks rookie night, where the team’s unspoken game plan is to vacuum its way through at least $12,000 of meat and alcohol. Guess who gets stuck with the bill? Welcome to Seattle, sucker.