Twice in Volume 9, someone rolled their eyes at someone else’s melodrama during the big showdown, and I was 100% there for it. It actually made me like the whole story better.
The first half of this arc is spent redeeming Chef Mikasa, the accomplished French chef whose reputation was ruined by the criminal actions of her sponsor during the Wine and Food Festival. Mikasa decides to return to France, where she grew up, and revive the restaurant that inspired her to be a chef. To do that, she and Shizuku have to convince this arc’s crazy old man, who owns the restaurant, to agree. What follows is a whole manga of its own as they find the old geezer’s heart, reunite him with his family, etc. The arc ends with a wedding and lots of joy. They help Shizuku find the wines that will make a perfect mariage with each course. Of course, we have to also learn how best to make each course, to understand each ingredient intimately and how it is chosen, prepared, and integrated into a perfect harmony on the plate. I have never read so many words about ratatouille in my life and hope never again to do so. This arc was a perfect palate cleanser before jumping back into an increasingly silly Drops of God competition.
But, eventually, we will all be back with the Order of The Drops of God, as these no-longer shadowy, but no less absurd, figures hold the last clue to the identity of The Drops of God in their hands. We will watch as each judge judges not only the wine chosen to accompany what we are repeatedly assured is perfectly prepared food, but the presentations of those wines and the images of the mariages they make. It reminds me of oral reports in elementary school, in which the conviction with which the report was given was graded as important as the information. So as Issei once again winegasms in what would, in any other context, be an immensely embarrassing way, Shizuku finally rolls his eyes. I cheered.
The seventh judge’s comments reminded me strongly of the episode of Iron Chef that pitted Masaharu Morimoto against Bobby Flay. Zagat publisher Tim Zagat did a great Homer Simpson impression as a judge and came off as a glutton rather than a gourmand. Likewise, Wang, the final member of the Order of The Drops of God, appears more concerned with how much he can eat and drink. In the final chapter of Volume 9, he creates a tie between Issei and Shizuku, and raves about how he can’t stop eating and drinking. At this unpretentious display, Kanzaki’s friend, Shizuku’s former psychopomp and crazy old geezer from the original Drops of God manga, Robert, rolls his eyes. And, finally, we have a major shake-up in the Order, as one of the members steps down because they are too invested in the outcome of the contest—much more so than I am.
Which brings me to the real weakness of this series. I still love the redemption and rebuilding arcs, the new friends and family, the whole “wine is fun!” aspect of this series. But. The contest for the “Drops of God” is just…stupid. Every test has three other tests embedded into it. There’s no end of tests to be able to take the test, to get into the test, to be eligible to test for the clue, which is so very manga, but really irritating here. And, as we are regaled with wines that have spiraled into the many thousands per bottle cost range if they are available at all, it feels less like a celebration of wine and food, and more like creepy rich collectors with their 6 million dollar watches or copies of the Voynich manuscript. It’s a common belief that wine is an unapproachable interest exactly because of this level of snobbishness. The original Drops of God manga went to great lengths to disprove that reputation, and here we are buried under the obsession with perfection, cost, terroir, reputation, and knowledge gatekeeping that makes wine people intolerable.
On the one hand, it is obvious that Shizuku and Issei are competing out of spite and desire to win, but as the tests continue, it also becomes obvious that both men are drawing closer to Kanzaki Yutaka, which is clearly the point of all this nonsense.
With a mere three volumes to go, I actually don’t care who wins, I just want to read the interstitials and meet some cool folks and do “food is fun, wine makes it better” stories.
As a last note, I promised that I would pay attention to the wine I drank while in France in early November. I had very little outstanding wine, with one exception. Right now, artisanal pizza is all the rage in Paris. Every café had pizza on the menu, and we had several. But one night, in the company of a new Y/CON friend, we went to Pepe Pizzeria in Châtelet, a happening spot full of young folks and restaurants. I drank a Primitivo Puglia from Paololeo winery that was outstanding. I went all the way to Paris to drink a really nice Italian wine.