Back in 1993 the Ontario government outrageously boosted the cost of importing wine. Refusing to succumb to these punitive fees, our wine scribe Jim Walker vowed to do his best to avoid them. Here he relates a couple of his more memorable border crossing escapades.

I recounted a few of my border crossing adventures in my last Gentleman’s Portion post, Border Hijinx. Here are two more, perhaps the most audacious of all.

My old friend Arnaud Ratel and I decided to make a large purchase of 1996 Bordeaux futures from Century Discount Liquors in Rochester, New York. I had convinced him that I had a foolproof plan for bringing back these treasures with minimum duty costs. Here was that plan. When we got to the border, we would simply present our credit card receipts for the wine we had just purchased, but ‘forget’ to account for the futures that we had paid for when we originally placed that order a couple of years earlier.

It was a lovely fall day when we headed out from Montreal for Rochester in Arnaud’s Jeep Wagoneer with our wives in tow. We picked up our cases of futures and purchased many additional bottles including a couple for lunch. One of the latter was a 1992 Bâtard-Montrachet from Joseph Drouhin that Arnaud had judiciously selected. After a marvelous meal, we headed back to Canada via the Thousand Island Bridge border crossing. We presented our credit card receipts and unloaded all the wine at the customs office. Arnaud and I then went to the LCBO outlet in Lansdowne, Ontario where we obtained a permit to import all the wine. This went smoothly.

When we returned to the customs office, we could sense that something was amiss. The head honcho, a burly chap in his forties, told us that things just didn’t seem to add up. Would I please step into his office and wait for him. It was a big empty room save for a large oak desk and chair along with a smaller wood chair in front where I assumed I was to sit. I perched and found the chair uncomfortably far from the desk, so I attempted to move it closer. It was bolted to the floor! This was decidedly not good.

My inquisitor entered some time later and plunked himself down at his desk. “Mister Walker, that is the finest shipment of wine to ever come through this customs office.” It was not a compliment. He then pulled out several Century Discount Liquor price lists from his desk drawer including the one detailing our futures offer. Busted!   

“There seems to be a very large discrepancy between the total of the receipts you produced and the actual value of the wine as we calculated it,” he officiously intoned. I did my finest innocent naïf impression and said, “Really, how could that be?” We parried for a few moments. I was clearly losing. “I think I know what the problem is,” I said, feigning an eureka moment. “I think we forgot to include the price of the futures.”

While I was blithering away, other border staff were ransacking Arnaud’s car and rummaging through our wives’ purses in search of more contraband. My three travel companions were not amused, particularly our wives.

I was certain that our wine and possibly Arnaud’s car were going to be confiscated. How would we get back to Montreal? My dire inner thoughts were broken by, “Mr. Walker, although I’d like to, I can’t seize your wine because technically you didn’t attempt to smuggle it across the border. But I can fine you for misrepresenting the value of the goods, which I am going to do. In addition to the fees you were attempting to avoid, we are going to charge you a like amount as a penalty.” While no mere bag of shells, I was inwardly doing Snoopy dances over this surprising turn of events. Arnaud was going to keep his car and we weren’t going to lose our wine, although it did become considerably more expensive.

The rest of the ride back to Montreal was a conspiracy of silence. But years later as we enjoyed the wine, we agreed it was well worth the angst, humiliation and extra cost.

I am now going to leap forward a few years. We had moved to Oakville which made forays to Century Discount Liquors much easier. One such trip included brother Doug and our good friend Philippe Gadbois. It culminated in more excitement at the border.

Philippe picked Doug and me up on a fine early summer morning and we headed down the QEW to the Queenston-Lewiston (Lewiston-Queenston when approached from the States) border. There was little traffic at the crossing and we made our way to the Lewiston Tops supermarket where we purchased the requisite tin of Blue Diamond Smoke House Almonds and a six-pack of Michelob beer for the long, thirsty drive on the picturesque back roads to Century Discount Liquor in Rochester. Once there, we enjoyed a pleasant chat with the owner, Sherwood Deutsch who helped us select an array of vinous treasures as well as three victims (a Meursault premier cru, a Pommard premier cru and a Château Pichon Baron) that would make the ultimate sacrifice at lunch. Philippe also purchased six large Riedel wine glasses. Oh yes, we selected a bottle of Veuve Clicquot from the store’s cooler for the long, thirsty drive back to Lewiston.

Before long we arrived at our luncheon destination – Apple Granny. Doug and I, usually in the company of our father, had enjoyed many a fine meal and countless bottles of wine (no corkage) at this humble eatery. Too humble for Philippe’s liking. The moment he set eyes on the little wine glasses he declared them entirely unsuitable and trotted out to the car to fetch his Riedel crystal stemware. Fellow diners cast curious glances our way, but the restaurant staff took it all in stride and with good humour.

As an aside, Lewiston is but a few miles from Canada. We learned that none of our wait   staff had ever ventured forth to that distant, strange and foreign land.

Even Philippe had to admit that the meal was edible, particularly since it had been washed down by the lovely wines. Early on, judging from the way my companions were laying waste to the nectar of the grape, I had concluded that I was to be the driver for the remainder of the excursion. I coasted, they inhaled. The lunch concluded, Doug and Philippe determined that a digestif was in order. Doug knew what it was to be – a Beautiful, Errol Flynn, French Kiss – all essentially the same thing he declared, fifty percent each of Cognac and Grand Marnier (the actual recipe is two-thirds Cognac, one-third Grand Marnier). They arrived in gigantic cognac glasses more than half full.

Doug and Philippe both smoked back then and they decided it was time to light up. So outside they went with digestifs in hand leaving me alone at the table in the now empty restaurant. There I sat for what seemed an eternity. I finally went out to see what had happened to them. There they were curbside entertaining, with jokes and amusing anecdotes, what seemed like half the citizenry of Lewiston.

 A combination of my nagging and their glasses now empty convinced the lads that it was time to head home. With me at the wheel, we approached the Lewiston-Queenston customs booth. When asked if we had anything to declare, I said, “Yes, a little wine.” We were directed over to the modern inspection centre where I parked. Doug, with a bit of a slur, said, “Leave this to me.” Out of the car he went and unsteadily    made his way into the building. A few moments later he reappeared and bumbled his way passed us to the far end of the centre. He reappeared a few moments later and lurched his way back into the car. “Go”, he said. Philippe joined in the chorus, “Go.” I dutifully obeyed, fearful that I would see red lights flashing in the rearview mirror at any moment.

Here’s what had transpired. My cunning brother had merely asked the customs folks where the washrooms were. He then availed himself of them and returned to the car. Had he and Philippe planned all this whilst they were out regaling the Lewistonians? I never found out. But I did ask if the lads were worried about having our treasures confiscated and Philippe’s vehicle impounded. “Not at all”, Philippe mumbled. “It’s my wife’s car.

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This is Jim’s 85th blog on Gentleman’s Portion. The SEARCH function at the top works really well if you want to look back and see some of his previous stories.