Jeff Cox brings no credentials to his self-described métier of "wine guy." He's not a trained sommelier, nor an MW. There are neither diplomas nor awards on the walls of his often messy office — just a map of the Languedoc and an odd assortment of quotes ranging from Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Hunter S. Thompson. Neither Marvin Shanken nor Robert Parker has him on speed dial.
But after 27 years in the wine business, a fella can't help but think he knows a little. When those years include driving a delivery truck, managing a warehouse, being a "cellar rat," picking grapes, selling wine everywhere from Burien to Beverly Hills, building relationships with wine producers and brewers in Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, the Rockies and the entire Left Coast of the US of A ... he might even think he has a license to expound.
License or not, he has a thing or four to say, and promises not to euphemize, b.s., pull punches or otherwise obfuscate on the course of said elocution. So, there you have it. Your discourse is encouraged. Thanks for reading.