GRAPES OF LAUGH (Sommelier)

Pairing wine with food is like choosing which tunes to dance to. It's a matter of personal taste, not right and wrong. Even the DJ at Tao spins the Kevin Federline album (at least when Federline is in the club).

I've come to RM Seafood at Mandalay Place to test this theory. Can I beat a real sommelier, Jeff Eichelberger, at his own ritzy game?

"The hardest thing is trying to keep as much stuff in your head as you can," says Eichelberger, 39, who was named one of America's best sommeliers by Wine & Spirits Magazine in 2005, "because there's so much stuff going on." (RM's two adjoining restaurants stock 620 labels.)

A linebacker type whose voice is as smooth as a 2002 Comte Lafon Montrachet (a reference I had to look up), Eichelberger entered the restaurant business by washing dishes in his native Northridge, Calif., at age 12.

"But I had my wine epiphany on my 21st birthday," he says, referring to a crash tasting course he received from Grgich Hills Winery owner Mike Grgich while visiting Napa Valley as a University of Nevada, Las Vegas student.

"I was really taken," Eichelberger says. "It made a big impact on me."

In 2003 -- following a random career path pingponging from air-freight logistics to plastic fabrication to waiting tables -- Eichelberger finally explored his true love after the head sommelier at Bouchon Bistro decided to take him under his wing. Eichelberger arrived at RM last year, after popping corks at Rao's and Restaurant Guy Savoy.

"I love the instant reaction you get from people," he says. "I know right away if I'm doing something that excites them."

Sommeliers earn an average of $40,000 a year -- unless and until Britain's Court of Master Sommeliers recognizes them as one of the world's 138 masters. (In 2005, Eichelberger was named an advanced sommelier -- one level below master -- and is currently studying for three preposterously difficult written tests.)

"Hello," Eichelberger says into his walkie-talkie headset.

The couple at table 23 has ordered a wine pairing ($135 per person) with the seven-course chef's tasting menu (another $135 per person).

Scanning the ticket in the kitchen, we each devise pairings to serve simultaneously.

I know a little about wine. Name a type and I can probably identify it as red or white. But, for the purposes of making my argument, the choices I make are as random as chicken pecks on a tic-tac-toe board.

For tuna ceviche in a soy-lime-ginger marinade, I choose an Anderson Valley 2006 Gewurztraminer, because the name is funny. The day-boat scallop warrants Sam Adams, because that's my favorite beer. And I pair the butter-poached Maine lobster with Pinot Noir Laetitia 2003 Les Galets just to be cocky. (Even I know that white is the proper fish wine color.)

As we gather our wines from RM's two cellars and upstairs bar, Eichelberger shakes his head and smiles.

"There are some rules you have to follow," he says. "There has to be more acid in the wine than the food. If you don't do that, the wine will taste flat."

I'm developing another theory, by the way -- that people make their job names difficult to pronounce (it's sum-ahl-YAY) to make their jobs seem more difficult than they really are.

Eichelberger, noticing another one of my pairings, adds: "You don't want to do tannin with shellfish, because it's going to taste bitter."

It's time to see about that. Two glasses have been dropped for Scottsdale, Ariz., residents Scott and Sherry Kriegshauser.

"Good evening," I say, presenting the Gewurztraminer.

Scott, it turns out, is a wine expert himself. So he notices all my mistakes: holding the glass by the bowl instead of the stem, forgetting to frame it against my serviet, and lifting up the glass.

"And it's Gewurztraminer," he adds, correcting my pronunciation.

OK, so my form is a tad weak. But this contest is about taste.

Or is it? Eichelberger delivers a soliloquy before pouring his choice: Chikurin "Lightness" Junmai Ginjo sake.

"There's a story that I heard one time," he says, "that the sake master actually puts a little bit of his soul into each bottle. And I think that it's funny, because in this case, this is a very light, fruity, floral style of sake, and the Fukamari is a very earthy, deep style of sake.

"So it kind of makes me wonder about his soul if he's doing both of these styles at the same time."

This guy wants to play rough.

By my second entirely random pairing, Heidi Schrock "Elfriede" 2002 with spiced Hawaiian swordfish, I am prepared. I explain that Heidi has a stud farm in Austria and that they are about to taste Charlie Sheen's favorite vintage.

Later, Eichelberger tells me I did good by making the customers laugh.

"The most important thing is for them to enjoy their experience," he says.

Unfortunately, I pour Heidi into the cognac snifters awaiting Eichelberger's choice: Doc's hard apple cider.

"We're trying new and inventive things with glasses tonight," Eichelberger explains as his cider takes the shape of the wine glasses.

This isn't entirely my screw-up. Eichelberger instructed me to always pour into the glass to the guest's right. But the captain was never made aware of this.

"That's OK," Sherry says. "We don't have to do their laundry tonight."

This time, it's entirely my screw-up. The final course has been cleared, and I have just dotted the white tablecloth like a Jackson Pollock painting with 2000 Warres Port.

"They have bleach for that," Scott says. (Actually, Eichelberger interjects, white wine is the best red-wine remover.)

An hour and 45 minutes later, the Kriegshausers are ready to announce the results. For the first time tonight, Eichelberger shows signs of losing his smoothness.

"I'm under a lot of pressure here," he says.

Scott -- who after tasting double appears to be seeing that way -- pauses before passing the first judgment.

"Gewurztraminer is one of my favorites," he says.

Eichelberger is crushed. His entire life's work may be a sham.

Unfortunately for my theory, Scott continues.

"That's probably the only point you got," he tells me.

Scott explains why I lost every round -- taking special notice of the Sam Adams.

"That was just out of left field," he says. "It really sucked."

However, Scott calls my other pairings "very close." He adds: "I assume the sommelier had a lot of influence on what you picked."

As far as I'm concerned, this is sufficient proof that my argument holds some water -- even if it holds it in the wrong glass.

Watch video of Levitan as a sommelier at www.reviewjournal.com/video/fearandloafing.html. Fear and Loafing runs Mondays in the Living section. Levitan's previous adventures are posted at fearandloafing.com. If you have an idea for a job or lifestyle, e-mail Levitan at clevitan@reviewjournal.com.