My father died eight years, one week and one day ago when his plane crashed into a vineyard in Southern Hungary.

When I went to Hungary for his funeral, my stepmother took me to the site of the crash. Because of differences in national airline investigations, we could walk around the area freely.
 
I remember how the ground had opened up to welcome the plane. I remember the gravelly soil, which now I know makes for a good vineyard, a wine that struggles and has depth and character, much like me, today. I remember the gaping indentation, the hole where the nose of the plane impacted with the ground; the burned, scarred outline of the wing, like a body outline in chalk but burned away, marking: a plane died here.

I picked up pieces of bent metal, felt the charred ground. It was quiet – so quiet and still, and in a strange way peaceful. In the surrounding area, I could see the vineyards though I don’t remember any grapes, just the rows. Nearby, a century-old stone well stood impassively, it had already seen everything. I dropped a forint down, waited for the sound of it hitting the water, having nothing to wish for.

It was a sad day, a sad year.But this year, I wanted it to be different. I wanted a joyful memorial. I wanted to commemorate my father by celebrating what he valued most: great food, unbelievable wine and wonderful friends.
 
I invited the smallest group of my very closest friends over for a four-course Hungarian feast and since I’m now a Swirl Girl, corresponding wine. The menu was simple: a salad with walnuts, pomegranates and bleu cheese (okay, there’s nothing Hungarian about this but it sounded better than the cucumber salad with sour cream that I remember); a cold cherry soup, Chicken Paprika with Galushka dumplings and Palascinta or crepes for dessert.

But the wine – how I struggled! I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted the whole evening to be perfect and I felt such    pressure to match correctly and to find wines my dad would like.
 
 Dry-Gwen made the salad and brought along a Domaine Rene Mure Riesling that  she used in the dressing and we finished up with the salad. The salad was truly  show-stopping and the light, off-dry Riesling was a perfectly crisp start to the day.
   
 When the Swirl Girls had their five-course summer sippin’ white wine dinner, I  amusedly mocked Dry’s obsession with proper pairings. I didn’t see the pairings  as that big a deal and was amused by how worried she was. Then we had an oft-  paired course and I finally understood how important pairings really are. Now it  was my turn to obsess over what wine to serve with the cold sour cherry soup. I  tweeted it, asked wine merchants, researched and obsessed. I went back and forth  between a Riesling, a Rose and a Gewurtz. Finally, I settled on the Rose because I  included a cup of Pinot Noir in the soup. And the Rose, the 2008 La Scolca Rosa  Chiara ($14) was perfect. The soup has cinnamon, sour cream, sour cherries and  a bit of sugar and for whatever reason, the off-dry, crisp, light and subtle Rose  acted like it was fated to marry that soup.
  
I know many felt I should have served a Riesling with the Chicken Paprika. But for this course, I desperately wanted a wine I knew my father would like, which meant French, specifically Bordeaux. And since the Paprika added flavor but not heat, I easily got by with red blends. We first opened up a 2007 Ferraton Pere et Fils Cotes du Rhone Plan de Dieu ($15.75) that I ordered from Zsazsa and Company, a great wine supplier. I am not a huge fan of Rhones in general. I find them too spicy and overpowering for me, but this was a great duo. The food added complexity and a sense of purpose to the wine. The wine had the characteristic spice and a strong presence in the mouth but also had a rounder edge and a balanced finish. And then for good measure we opened up a Mouton-Cadet Bordeaux my friends had brought, which was a great choice as well. These were two wines my dad would have loved.

After sitting and digesting and getting into a great discussion on religion and politics for a good while, I brought out the “palascinta” or crepes and some nutella, bananas and my father’s favorite, apricot jam as filling. And with great ceremony, I took out the 2000 Tokay Aszu. It the most expensive bottle of wine I’ve ever bought ($49.99) but I felt strongly we needed to try it. Tokay is Hungary’s finest wine and was lauded by Louis XIV as the “Wine of Kings, the King of Wines.” It’s similar to a Sauturnes but is richer, smoother, more incredible than any sweet wine I’ve ever tried.

 It had an insanely long finish and was a beautiful golden color. It covered the whole palate with a luxurious opulence. I understand the price tag and the reverence this wine evokes.
 
Tasting Tokay is like drinking spun gold.

The evening was everything I dreamed of. Delicious food, great wine and wonderful conversations with great friends. Nearby, I had put out a picture of my dad and I carefully poured him a glass of the Rhône and felt comforted to know that he was there with us and insanely proud of me.