Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published May 20, 2009 Max Zander, 1920-2009 Although I didn't learn about it until days later, Max Zander died on May 14, 2009. He was older than I thought: eighty-nine. Must have been his infectiously convivial personality that fooled me. In a field full of snobs, Max did more to help New Orleans people learn about and appreciate wine than anybody else. Decades before fine wine made its way onto the tables of the average person--I'm talking about the 1960s--Max was out there with his classes, wine dinners, and tastings, getting people excited about this new enhancement to their lives. The first time he and I dined together at length was in October, 1975. I had orchestrated a lavish Christmas dinner for the December edition of New Orleans Magazine. Dan Fusilier was the host; Christopher Blake was the chef. Max, who managed the biggest wine wholesaler in the state (he continued to work there until he died), brought the wines--and what wines! Big red Bordeaux (Chateau Haut-Brion 1970 was one of them). Chateau d'Yquem. The dinner was beyond belief; it would impress the most jaded gourmets even now. On the cover of the magazine, all the guests stood there toasting the readers, Max right in the middle of the group. Max was part of my life from then on. He made more appearances on my radio show than any other wine guest, always bringing interesting things to taste, never failing to pack an extra bottle of Champagne for me when he made his pre-New Years visit. I was flattered to see that his obituary specifically mentioned his participation in my radio show, what with all the other honors and accomplishments he accumulated in his long lifetime. Max was the most likeable kind of person, never displaying a hint of the pomposity that scares so many people away from wine. He was as quick to recommend affordable wines as he was the world's best. He knew about it all, and was always ready to share his knowledge, sophistication, love of life, and friendship with anyone. He was a mentor for me and for hundreds of other New Orleans oenophiles, wine merchants, and restaurateurs. And he was good company. He was always ready with a funny line. My favorite was his response to a question about the wines he thought worth buying and laying up for aging. "Tom, at my age, I don't even buy green bananas anymore!" But he told me that over a decade ago. He kept on going, his bonhomie suppressed by the decline in his beloved wife Selma's health and her eventual death, but always living on the bright side. I am very proud that he was my friend. © 2009 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com