The story behind the bottle, First Big Crush is Eric Arnold's wild account of his year immersing himself in all things wine...and somehow not winding up in rehab.

Never having held a meaningful job for very long (and getting fired from most of them), Eric Arnold heads to New Zealand -- to Allan Scott Wines -- seeking adventure and hoping to learn a little bit about wine. What could be better than working outside in the fresh air and drinking wine all day? Before he knows it, he is dirty, wet, cold, and at the mercy of a tank of wine that just might explode and take him with it. So begin Eric's adventures in the world of wine. He gets sunburned, sore, and drunk -- and then does it all over again the next day.

First Big Crush is a story that is as outrageous as it is compelling. Here are tales of first pressings, pruning, and tasting competitions. There are also rowdy nights at the local pub, girls, meat pies, girls, rugby, and tales of hunting wild pig. Along the way, each step of the winemaking process is explained in a way that humans can actually understand. Almost against his will, Eric becomes an expert.

Customer Review: Read the "dirty" in more than one sense

Eric Arnold spent a year in New Zealand's Marlborough winemaking region. Years earlier he spent a day touring the area: "And from my very first sip of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc at ten-thirty or so on that morning, I knew it, too -- I was tasting something special. My mouth zipped and zinged, and though I couldn't describe the flavors I was tasting, I was sure of only one thing: I wanted more. I was hammered by noon, with five wineries still to go. At one point I stole the tour guide's microphone in the van and started singing karaoke -- "The Tracks of My Tears" by Smokey Robinson -- even though I didn't know the words. I might've taken off my shirt, too, but I don't remember. From winery to winery and sip to sip, the wines just got better and better. From the time I got back home to Brooklyn, whenever I was in a wine shop I either bought wine from New Zealand or asked for something similar. Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc was my new Hogue."

The memory of that firts Sauvignon Blanc sticks in Arnold's memory:

"For a few years after that trip I was still guzzling whatever New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc I could find at night, and spending my daylight hours working the copy desk at a small business magazine. It was better than working for the Nazi devil woman at PBS, but the same could probably be said for cleaning up monkey shit at the zoo (which, I imagine, is very similar to working at PBS). So out of a desire to drink more, work less, and maybe satisfy a little curiosity, up sprang the idea of just throwing myself into the lifestyle: getting a job at a winery and writing a book about it."

Arnold initially knows nothing about winery work, but you have to admire his cheerful attitude, no matter what reality throws at him. He learns about rugby, pig hunting, and hard working rural New Zealanders. He finds two particularly difficult areas: the finer points of pitchforking and pruning winter vines in the cold fields. He concludes:

"Vineyard work sucks...I have no idea why, but many people who drink wine think that making it is some sort of relaxed, cushy lifestyle. And I don't understand it , because I've never eaten a juicy steak and imagined how romantic and luxurious a life I'd have if I started raising cattle in Wyoming. Similarly, I've never met anyone who got a massage and moved to Sweden or shot heroin and moved to Afghanistan."

Arnold is excellent at describing the difficulties and joys of working in a vineyard and in a winery. His language may be a bit racy for some readers, his humor a little too broad. Overall, I found the substance worth a few "Oh, grow up" moments.

Customer Review: Plow through the puerile...it's enlightening

The author's unrelenting use of tacky sexual simile might be difficult to deal with if the overall content of the book wasn't quite so interesting...his 'hands dirty' insight to this small piece of the wine making business is compelling, though, and I found myself ignoring his hormonal excess. This is one that I'll read again.

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