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A few days later, Callahan invited me back to Grill 23 to show me how he shrinks the world. At the bar, he lifted up a glass containing three or so ounces of red wine, tilted it to a nearly 90-degree angle, and peered through the purple-hued liquid toward his wristwatch. 鈥淚 can read the time, so that means it鈥檚 Pinot Noir, Gamay, Nebbiolo, or Sangiovese,鈥� he said. 鈥淚t could be Nerello Mascalese, it could be Grenache. You have to make the world smaller before you smell or taste it.鈥�

From there, a quick sniff narrowed it down to a Pinot or a Gamay. Then he pulled a small sip while steadily inhaling through his nostrils. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a Pinot Noir,鈥� he declared. But where was it from? He instantly ruled out South America, Europe, Australia, and South Africa, making the world smaller and smaller, until finally landing on Oregon鈥檚 Willamette Valley, circa 2016. Bingo.

The sommelier culture hews to a strict hierarchy in which master sommeliers are perched on top. They鈥檙e expected to know everything in the world there is to know about wine, from the perfect glass to pair with a filet of monkfish to soil conditions in Romania. As anyone who鈥檚 seen the acclaimed documentary聽Somm聽knows, the master sommelier test is an all-consuming experience that can take years to navigate, and that demoralizes just about everyone who tries their hand at it. The test consists of three parts: service, in which candidates are judged on their performance in a simulated restaurant experience; theory, an oral exam that probes their knowledge of history, laws, aging requirements, and anything else that鈥檚 obscure and related to wine; and a blind tasting, in which test takers must identify the precise vintage of a wine based solely on its taste, smell, and appearance. Since its inception in 1969, more people have gone to space than have successfully completed the exam. Callahan passed it at the ripe old age of 30.

Growing up in South Deerfield, Massachusetts, Callahan realized early in life that he was sensitive to the world around him in ways most people weren鈥檛. 鈥淚 was the kid who had to have all the tags and loose threads cut off my clothes and sneakers and socks or they鈥檇 drive me nuts,鈥� he said. 鈥淚鈥檓 also the person who thinks cilantro tastes like soap, and I鈥檝e always been sensitive to smells. I remember there was one tree in my neighborhood that when it bloomed each year I had to stop going on our family bike rides because the smell would bother me so much. It just smelled rotten, and my parents thought I was crazy because they couldn鈥檛 smell anything.鈥�

Around age 14, Callahan landed his first restaurant job at the Deerfield Inn, a high-end hotel and eatery nestled in the foothills of the Berkshires. He served and cleared palate cleansers between courses. 鈥淢y entire existence was based around scooping sorbet and putting it in a fancy glass,鈥� he recalled with a laugh. He loved it.

At the University of Massachusetts Amherst, Callahan majored in history and worked nights as a sommelier at a nearby restaurant. He was trying to sell baby boomers $120 bottles of wine, but he looked like he was 12, so he did a bit of studying and passed the test to become a certified sommelier, the lowest rung of the ladder.

Soon after graduating from UMass, Callahan enrolled in Boston College鈥檚 master鈥檚 program in ancient history, and accepted a job running the wine program at the now-defunct Boston restaurant Excelsior. The idea was to pay his way through graduate school and then enroll in a Ph.D. program, with an eye toward ultimately becoming a professor.

As a student of history, Callahan has always admired the Roman Empire鈥攕o much so that he has a Roman centurion tattooed across his upper thigh along with 鈥淪PQG,鈥� short for Senatus Populus que Romanus, or the Senate and People of Rome. All centurions supposedly had the letters branded or tattooed on them, he explained, as a reminder of whom they served. 鈥淚t was centurions鈥� duty to live and die for the empire鈥攆or the greater good. But if they survived to the end of their tenure, they would be given enough land to retire and be able to live well off the empire,鈥� he said. 鈥淎nd I just love the idea that if you鈥檙e willing to put more of yourself into something than you necessarily should, oftentimes it will come back to you.鈥�

Callahan is a sommelier, of course, and that means he still gets excited about the flavor profiles of Rieslings or the aromatics of a glass of Burgundy. But these days, he鈥檚 more passionate about the business of wine. 鈥淭he restaurant industry and the wine industry are changing at light speed and the traditional role of a sommelier鈥攑airing an appropriate wine with the appropriate food, opening the bottle, and selling it鈥攊sn鈥檛 really what we鈥檙e doing anymore,鈥� Callahan said. 鈥淚 think of myself as someone who fully understands the business of wine.鈥�

鈥淚 think of myself as someone who fully understands the business of wine,鈥� said Brahm Callahan, pictured here at Grill 23.

As Himmel Group beverage director, Callahan buys and sells millions of dollars worth of wine from vineyards around the world鈥攈e flies 150,000 or so miles each year, to destinations like New Zealand and Argentina. He needs to know which bottles are in demand now and which bottles he can buy and lay down for ten or twenty years in the restaurant鈥檚 bunker-like cellar. He also needs to stay ahead of trends鈥攎illennials and ros茅, for instance鈥攁nd navigate unpredictable market forces, including President Trump鈥檚 recent threats of a 100 percent tariff on European wines. 鈥淎 bottle that costs $20 today could tomorrow cost $40,鈥� he said. 鈥淎t Grill 23 we have three years worth of wine we could sell if we needed to while this whole thing works itself out. If we鈥檙e only thinking about tomorrow, then I鈥檓 not doing my job right. I have to be three, four, five steps ahead.鈥�

Of course, not all of Callahan鈥檚 job involves jetting from vineyard to vineyard, sniffing and sipping wines while being doted on by distributors and wholesalers. A lot of his most important work involves nitty-gritty management鈥攐verseeing budgets, tracking inventory, and grooming up-and-coming talent. Under Callahan鈥檚 leadership, Grill 23鈥檚 wine program has grown to include approximately two dozen sommeliers whom he actively trains and mentors. 鈥淗e鈥檚 one of those people who knows the answer to every question we have,鈥� said Hugo Bensimon, the restaurant鈥檚 recently promoted wine director, who is himself currently studying for the master sommelier exam. Meanwhile, Callahan鈥檚 knack for sussing out and stockpiling coveted vintages has helped Grill 23 rack up enough awards to fill a trophy case. Last year, the restaurant was one of only eighty-nine in the world to earn聽Wine Spectator鈥檚聽Grand Award.

Before I departed Grill 23, Callahan had one last thing he wanted to show me. We took an old service elevator to the basement, where Callahan led me down a winding hallway until we reached a padlocked door. Behind it, racks and racks and racks of wine greeted us.

Now, you might imagine that one of the best wine collections in New England would be housed in a state-of-the-art, climate-controlled room with laser alarms and beams of mahogany. You鈥檇 be wrong. The room was impressively bare-bones, consisting of cement walls, an old thermostat that read 52 degrees, and a couple of dozen shelves. Most people don鈥檛 give wine enough credit, Callahan said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 incredibly durable. There鈥檚 a reason people have been making it and drinking it for thousands of years.鈥�

I asked Callahan which bottle down here excited him the most, but he doesn鈥檛 play favorites. He can鈥檛. 鈥淲e have bottles that would bend most people鈥檚 minds,鈥� he said. 鈥淲e have Roman茅e-Conti Roman茅e-Conti鈥攚hich is arguably the rarest bottle of wine in the world鈥攁 鈥�61 Lafite, and Madeira from the 1800s. But this is all so normalized to me. I鈥檝e pretty much had everything at this point and I think that鈥檚 one of the reasons I have such a casual attitude toward wine.鈥�

For all of Callahan鈥檚 expertise and experience, he truly does appear to have zero pretensions about wine or his career. He doesn鈥檛 care if you love canned Chardonnay or have a rack full of Two Buck Chuck in your living room. Nor does he mind the rise of Instagram influencers who鈥檝e never studied a day in their life but are busy living that #winelife and sharing #wineporn to 40,000 followers. 鈥淚f they鈥檙e drinking wine and enjoying it,鈥� he said, 鈥渁nd that inspires someone else to go out and buy some wine, it鈥檒l eventually trickle over to our side.鈥� Callahan doesn鈥檛 romanticize wine or the path he鈥檚 taken. In his world, wine is first and foremost a business, and he鈥檚 after every bit of market share he can grab. 鈼�

Chris Sweeney is a Boston-based writer and editor whose work has appeared in聽Men鈥檚 Journal, Popular Mechanics,聽and more.