Vino Vixens

[February 7th, 2007] My boyfriend and I were wary. The class description read, "Be a couple of wine snobs in under three hours. For romantic couples—kissing and canoodling required." Oh boy, I thought, this should be uncomfortable. A wannabe-yuppie sap fest.

Thankfully, my cynical instincts were wrong. "Bear with me for the first glass," said Erin-Marie Palmer, instructor and owner of Vino Vixens. "But after I explain the hell outta that one, we'll be throwin' 'em back like college kids." Now that I could get on board with.

Palmer's sass is what kept the 20 of us—young professionals, middle-aged suburbanites, boho lesbians—engaged in the cramped "Vatican" classroom. The way she poked fun at my kiss-ass comrades, called the decanter a "wine bong" and disclosed how she and her 6-foot-5 husband dressed up as Ginger and Mary Ann for Halloween, turned me from hesitant pupil to newfound fan.

Palmer expanded her "Estrogen Empire," a nickname that makes even her cringe, last September with the opening of Vixens on Southeast Powell Boulevard. With the success of her Beaverton store The Wine Cellar, she was able to remodel her new 5,000-square-foot space, using recycled materials only (the floors of the Vatican are from an old Jack Daniels distillery; the room itself is a converted walk-in freezer), to create a three-part storefront: wine bar, classroom and game room. Most anything from the shelves—many are organic North American wines—can be poured by the glass, and the loungy game room runs like a co-op—bring your own dinner if you like, just clean up after yourself. Otherwise, Ding Dongs and Planters nuts (as well as exotic cheeses and candies) are available to complement your chosen varietal.

Although I was quick to follow Palmer's instruction of "your mouth is also a dump bucket," I did learn a few more valuable things between chardonnays and cabernets, including: all grapes make white wine; most wines aren't vegetarian-friendly; one in 10 wines is corked (a.k.a. bad) and should be returned.

As the class ended, making way for a private Goth party, I realized my 10 tastings did make me slightly friskier toward my boyfriend. However, I was even more enamored with watching the woman in the corner pointedly ignore some yuppie's pompous question to savor her last sip of port with a square of Spanish chocolate. —JESSICA MACHADO.