''Such a thick concentration,'' he says, furiously swirling the red zinfandel around in his glass. He holds it up to the light, marveling at remnants of grape skins. ''You cannot see through this.'' For all this fuss, though, Howard would have you believe he's no more taken with wines than he is with, say, acting.
''I still don't like them much,'' he says, carefully savoring another sip. ''But I think I've got a pretty good tongue.''
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