My neighbor wanted to invite over some girlfriends for a wine, cheese and pupu party and asked if I could cater and maybe do a little wine talk.

How much trouble could it be? I've only been working in food and beverage for half my life. It would be a slam dunk! I'd cook a few appetizers I'd been wanting to try out and brush up on some wine-geek fundamentals.

"No problem, nothing to it. How hard could it be?" I said assertively. She thanked me and tentatively offered to pay me.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Buy me some beer and we're good. About how many people are you expecting?"

"Oh, myself, plus eight others," she replied.

"Perfect! Only one thing I ask: None of that white-zinfandel nonsense."

She promised.

"Can I have some fun with it, and maybe we'll learn a thing or two?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "Why do you think I came to you?"

Obviously, because I work for cheap — but I kept this observation to myself.

With that, I put my evil mind to work on a menu and wine pairings.

First things first. Seeing as how no one is a heavy drinker, I planned on a couple of glasses per person. With the food pairings and a little palate education, the intake might go up by a half-glass, so I estimated they'd drink three 5-ounce glasses over 2 1/2 hours. However, when I was told the women had found babysitters and lived nearby, I knew we were up to a bottle each.

"Are there any vegetarians?" I asked.

"I think maybe one or two, but fish is OK," the host said.

Great. No major dietary restrictions, and the cook can go wild. Easy enough.

A three-cheese platter, gravlax salad, grilled eggplant bundles and stuffed mushrooms should do the trick. This food is easy to prepare and wine-friendly.

On top of that, I'd bring six or seven fruits as an educational prop.

One by one, they arrived. Smiles on faces and wines in hand. I had asked that they bring different wines so we could taste around. Heaven forbid everyone shows up with the blue-light special on California merlot.

I had arranged the fruits — lemons, apples, pears, blueberries, raspberries and such — in bite-size pieces, hoping everyone would try a different fruit with a different wine. And I put out slivers of vanilla bean and wood chips just for my own experiment.

Most white wines will have several members of the citrus family hidden within, either in flavor or acidity or both. If not, it's a great possibility that tree fruit, such as apples or pears, will be comparable to the wine's hidden charms.

The same goes for the reds, with an array of light to dark berries, coffee, chocolate and the like.

The vanilla bean and wood chips I keep to the side just to show the effect of heavy oak treatment on some wines. Believe it or not, most chardonnays not aged in oak barrels don't taste like vanilla or wood.

The wine was flowing, the chatter got louder, and at last, the stragglers had arrived. So I brought out the food.

"Try the herb-crusted goat cheese with the sauvignon blanc," I directed, as it's always been a traditional favorite.

With the grilled eggplant stuffed with mozzarella and tomato, I recommended a barbera. The light grilling combines smoke with the acidity of the tomato and works brilliantly with the barbera's acid and light earth.

The decibels got higher and the syllables got longer. But who cares? The guests were enjoying food and wine.

"Wow, Heath, these blueberries really are a component in this cabernet sauvignon," I was assured by Neighbor No. 2. As I turned to discuss the wine, I was doubly assured, as the blueberries were floating in her glass. Not wanting to put a damper on her $20 glass of homemade sangria, I handed her some vanilla bean and ran for the kitchen.

Almost into my safe zone, I was approached by Neighbor No. 4. "Do you have any pink wine?" she asked. Playing dumber than usual, I asked if she wanted a nice, dry rosé, knowing well what I was in for. "If that's the one that tastes like cotton candy, yeah!" she responded.

Hustling to get more food, and a hiding place, I returned to the kitchen. I had just the thing — stuffed mushrooms to pair with that newly opened pinot noir.

"Ladies, if I may interrupt, this pinot noir goes perfectly with these pancetta-stuffed mushrooms." Feeling as if I were about to be rushed like Neil Diamond after singing "Sweet Caroline," I dropped the plate and ran for my shelter.

"What's pancetta?," I heard the vegetarian ask. "Oh, it's sorta like an Italian bacon," Neighbor No. 5 responded. And with that, the vegetarian stuffed two into her mouth.

"No, wait!" all the women yelled.

"Why?" the vegetarian asked as she turned up the bottle of pinot. "Everyone likes bacon."

And how could anyone disagree?

With the last plate of food out and a great debate over the perfect man brewing, I went for the couch. Much to my chagrin, I ended up face to face with Pink Wine Lady. She informed me that if I didn't produce pink wine in a hurry, Tom Cruise wouldn't be the only one jumping on couches.

With a new-found spirit to please, I did the unthinkable — a light blend of white wine with red, and a teaspoon of sugar (do not try this at home).

I could only wish the best for her husband, who would have to deal with her hangover.

Thankful to be done and not wanting to interrupt the latest discussion, I tried to sneak out. If ever one was deserving of a liquor-store run, it was me.

Unfortunately, backing out of the the drive woke the flock. As I drove away, I heard Neighbor No. 1 yell, "Hey wine boy, we're out of food and need more booze."

"Yeah, wine boy," I heard Pink Wine Lady say, "grab some Boone's Farm and pork rinds!" Another perfect pairing.

In case you would like to try this at home: