The Wine Cellar, The Ergometer, and Postmodernism: A Gen X Time Capsule
Below the living room and the floorboards, among the wine racks, a quiet transformation has taken place over the past year. What began as a subterranean cellaring space has evolved into something far more eclectic: an engine room, an athletic retreat, and an unintentional shrine to a lifetime spent in restaurants & bars, over books, and on my feet.
It started with a practical shift: converting a portion of my basement wine cellar into a functional workout space. Being older & working on my feet takes its toll, and over the years, my back has always been my primary physical hurdle. So, I added a stationary bike, a Roman chair, and a GMWD rower—my faithful, budget-friendly Concept2 knockoff. Rowing has been a game-changer for building core stamina and keeping my back alive. Six or seven days a week, I’m down here pushing short, intense interval sessions, keeping my heart rate locked in the red zone.
But when I step back and look at the space, it’s no longer just a wine cellar or a makeshift gym. It’s an accidental time capsule of my entire adult life.
The Wine Era & The Robert Parker Spell
Surrounding the workout gear are rows of books and artifacts I’ve held onto for decades. Among them is a prized first-edition copy of Robert Parker’s Wines of the Rhône Valley. Inscribed inside—dated August 4, 1997—is a personalized note from Parker himself: "To Anthony — Good luck with Tocai!"—a nod to the restaurant I owned in my twenties back on 6th Street in Austin.
Looking at that inscription now brings back a rush of memories. Like so many somms and wine lovers coming up in that era, I followed Parker’s palate almost religiously before eventually breaking away and learning how to think, taste, and buy for myself. Nearby hangs my Court of Master Sommeliers Advanced certificate—a reminder of the intense rigor of those early wine years.
The Shift Behind the Bar
Next to the wine texts sits the collection that chronicled my transition into spirits, cocktails & beverages other than wine: David Wondrich’s Imbibe!, Standage's A History of the World in 6 Glasses, Martin Cate’s Smuggler’s Cove, and the original Death & Co manual. These weren't just decorative coffee table books, rather more like inspirational textbooks, the fodder that fundamentally reshaped how I think about beverages and manage drink programs.
The Theory Shelf & The Media Archive
Then there’s the philosophy corner—relics from an extended deep dive into postmodern theory that defined my early intellectual life. A stack of Jean Baudrillard (Simulacra and Simulation, Seduction, The Ecstasy of Communication, Forget Foucault) alongside Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus and What is Philosophy?.
There is something wonderfully absurd about sweating through a row on a knockoff ergometer while staring directly at Baudrillard’s theories on hyperreality.
Right beside them are the true survivors of my once-massive CD and DVD collections. The movie shelf reads like an era-defining hall of fame: Fight Club, Trainspotting, Sixteen Candles, and my personal favorite Coen brothers film, Miller’s Crossing, framed by racks of jazz and classical music.
Shadows on the Wall
Hanging on the wooden walls are snapshots of different chapters. One of my favorites is a picture of me (back when I had a full head of hair!) during my music promoter days in my late 20s / early 30s at the Red Eyed Fly in Austin. I'm standing next to my buddy Bavu Blakes—a true godfather of the Austin hip hop scene and a central force behind the legendary Hip Hop Humpday crew—at an event we put together for his birthday.
It’s easy to feel a quiet nostalgia standing among these milestones. As a father to a young family, I don't collect wine at a high velocity anymore. Time is tight, and let’s be honest—you feel a bit of guilt dropping serious money on high-end bottles when you have far more important real-world responsibilities.
Planning for the Future
Yet, in this strange, dank basement space, surrounded by dusty vintages, old theories, and hectic memories, there’s a profound comfort. Someone once wrote that the past dictates nothing, but it influences everything.
Every day when I strap into the rower or jump on the bike, I’m using this space less as a wine repository and more as an engine room. The short, punishing workouts aren't about chasing vanity; they’re about building stamina, protecting my back, and ensuring I’m here and healthy for my family for decades to come.
It’s a funny contrast: working out in a room filled with remnants of who I was, all so I can build the strength for who I need to be tomorrow.
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P.S. — I almost forgot: I also have a proper competition dartboard mounted down here. Truth be told, I don't use it much these days—maybe throw a dart or two between sets—but it’s another quiet nod to my twenties, throwing darts over pints with friends at The Ginger Man in Austin. You might also notice the 20-inch box fan taped up with a high-grade air filter (bottom right). It’s my slightly ghetto, DIY air purifier for keeping the basement air fresh, but hey... it works.
