The consequences of heavy drinking are well documented: failing health, broken marriages, regrettable late-night phone calls. But according to Gregory Luzaich’s calculations, there can be a downside to modest drinking, too—though one that damages the wallet, not the liver.
The Pek Wine Steward prevents wine from spoiling by injecting argon, an inert gas, into the bottle before sealing it airtight with silicon. Mr. Luzaich. a mechanical engineer in Windsor, Calif.—in the Sonoma County wine country—first tallied the costs of his reasonable consumption in October 2001. "I’d like to come home in the evening and have a glass of wine with dinner," he said. "My wife doesn’t drink very much. so the bottle wouldn’t get consumed. And maybe I would forget about it the next day, and I’d check back a day or two later, and the wine would be spoiled." That meant he was wasting most of a $15 to $20 bottle of wine. dozens of times a year.
A cheek of the wine-preservation gadgets on the market left Mr. Luzaich dissatisfied High-end wine cabinets cost thousands of dollars—a huge investment for a glass-a-day drinker. Affordable preservers, meanwhile, didn’t quite perform to Mr. Luzaich’s liking; be thought they allowed too much oxidation, which degrades the taste of a wine.
The solution, he decided, was a better gas. Many preservers pumped nitrogen into an opened bottle to slow a wine’s decline, even though oenological literature suggested that argon was more effective. So when he began designing the Pek Wine Steward. a metal cone into which a wine bottle is inserted, Mr. Luzaich found that his main challenge was to figure out how best to introduce the argon.
He spent months fine-tuning a gas injection system. "We used computational fluid dynamics to model the gas flow," Mr. Luzaich said. referring to a computer-analysis technique that measures how smoothly particles are flowing. The goal was to create an injector that could swap a bottle’s oxygen atoms for argon atoms; argon is an inert gas, and thus unlikely to harm a nice Chianti.
Mr. Luzaich, who had previously designed medical and telecommunications products, also worked on creating an airtight seal, to secure the bottle after the argon was injected. He experimented with several substances, from neoprene to a visco-elastic polymer (which he dismissed as "too gooey"), before settling on a food-grade silicon.
To save wine, a bottle is placed inside the Pek Wine Steward, the top is closed, and a trigger is pulled for 5 to 10 seconds, depending on how much wine remains. When the trigger is released, the bottle is sealed automatically, preserving the wine for a week or more. the company says. "We wanted to make it very easy for the consumer," Mr. Luzaich said. "It’s basically mindless."
The device, which resembles a high-tech thermos, first became available to consumers in March 2004, and 8,000 to 10.000 have been sold, primarily through catalogs like those of The Wine Enthusiast and Hammacher Schlemmer The base model sells for $99; a deluxe model, which also includes a thermoelectric cooler, is $199
According to Gregory Luzaich. the disadvantage of modest drinking is______.

A:damaging the liver B:costing much C:breaking marriages D:spoiling the wine

The consequences of heavy drinking are well documented: failing health, broken marriages, regrettable late-night phone calls. But according to Gregory Luzaich’s calculations, there can be a downside to modest drinking, too—though one that damages the wallet, not the liver.
The Pek Wine Steward prevents wine from spoiling by injecting argon, an inert gas, into the bottle before sealing it airtight with silicon. Mr. Luzaich. a mechanical engineer in Windsor, Calif.—in the Sonoma County wine country—first tallied the costs of his reasonable consumption in October 2001. "I’d like to come home in the evening and have a glass of wine with dinner," he said. "My wife doesn’t drink very much. so the bottle wouldn’t get consumed. And maybe I would forget about it the next day, and I’d check back a day or two later, and the wine would be spoiled." That meant he was wasting most of a $15 to $20 bottle of wine. dozens of times a year.
A cheek of the wine-preservation gadgets on the market left Mr. Luzaich dissatisfied High-end wine cabinets cost thousands of dollars—a huge investment for a glass-a-day drinker. Affordable preservers, meanwhile, didn’t quite perform to Mr. Luzaich’s liking; be thought they allowed too much oxidation, which degrades the taste of a wine.
The solution, he decided, was a better gas. Many preservers pumped nitrogen into an opened bottle to slow a wine’s decline, even though oenological literature suggested that argon was more effective. So when he began designing the Pek Wine Steward. a metal cone into which a wine bottle is inserted, Mr. Luzaich found that his main challenge was to figure out how best to introduce the argon.
He spent months fine-tuning a gas injection system. "We used computational fluid dynamics to model the gas flow," Mr. Luzaich said. referring to a computer-analysis technique that measures how smoothly particles are flowing. The goal was to create an injector that could swap a bottle’s oxygen atoms for argon atoms; argon is an inert gas, and thus unlikely to harm a nice Chianti.
Mr. Luzaich, who had previously designed medical and telecommunications products, also worked on creating an airtight seal, to secure the bottle after the argon was injected. He experimented with several substances, from neoprene to a visco-elastic polymer (which he dismissed as "too gooey"), before settling on a food-grade silicon.
To save wine, a bottle is placed inside the Pek Wine Steward, the top is closed, and a trigger is pulled for 5 to 10 seconds, depending on how much wine remains. When the trigger is released, the bottle is sealed automatically, preserving the wine for a week or more. the company says. "We wanted to make it very easy for the consumer," Mr. Luzaich said. "It’s basically mindless."
The device, which resembles a high-tech thermos, first became available to consumers in March 2004, and 8,000 to 10.000 have been sold, primarily through catalogs like those of The Wine Enthusiast and Hammacher Schlemmer The base model sells for $99; a deluxe model, which also includes a thermoelectric cooler, is $199
According to the text, the "Pek Wine Steward" is______.

A:a metal cone B:a thermoelectric cooler C:a gas injector D:a wine preserver

Text 2

According to Gregory Luzaich. the disadvantage of modest drinking is______.

A:damaging the liver B:costing much C:breaking marriages D:spoiling the wine

Text 2

According to the text, the "Pek Wine Steward" is______.

A:a metal cone B:a thermoelectric cooler C:a gas injector D:a wine preserver

Wine buffs are like art collectors. Few can tell the difference between a well-made fake and the real thing. Yet whereas counterfeit art has been around for centuries, wine forgery is relatively new. It started in the late 1970s when the prices of the best wines—especially those from Bordeaux—shot up. Today, with demand from China fuelling a remarkable boom, counterfeiting is rife. By some estimates 5% of fine wines sold at auction or on the secondary market are not what they claim to be on the label.
The simplest technique is to slap the label of a 1982 Chàteau Lafite (one of the most prized recent vintages) onto a bottle of 1975 Lafite (a less divine year). Another trick is to bribe the sommelier of a fancy restaurant to pass on empty bottles that once held expensive wine, along with the corks. These can be refilled with cheaper wine, recorked and resealed. Empty Lafite and Latour bottles are sold on eBay for several hundred euros.
The margins are fruity. A great wine may cost hundreds of times more than a merely excellent one. Small wonder that oenophiles are growing more vigilant. Bill Koch, an energy tycoon and avid wine collector, currently has five lawsuits pending against merchants, auctioneers and other collectors. His grape-related gripes began in 2006, when he filed a complaint against a German wine dealer who sold bottles of Lafite he claimed had once belonged to Thomas Jefferson. The case is unresolved.
"There is a code of silence in the industry," says Mr. Koch, who owns 43,000 bottles of wine and estimates that he has spent $4m～5m on fakes. Some collectors are too proud to admit that they have been duped. Others fear sullying a vintage’s reputation and thereby reducing the value of their own collections. So instead of speaking out, "they dump their fakes into auctions or sell them to other private collectors," says Mr. Koch.
Wine merchants and auction houses say they are doing everything they can to filter out the fakes. Simon Berry, the chairman of Berry Brothers & Rudd, a British wine merchant, says his firm never buys wines from before 2000 unless they come from its own cellars. (Berry Brothers stores nearly 4m bottles on behalf of its customers. ) Christie’s, an auctioneer, says all the wines it auctions are inspected three times by different people, using detailed checklists for condition and authenticity.
Fear of fakery has not stopped the boom. But the wines that win the best prices at auction are those whose provenance is certain. In May, Christie’s sold an impériale (six-litre bottle) of 1961 Latour for $216,000 in Hong Kong. It came directly from the cellars of Chàteau Latour.
It can be inferred from Paragraph 2 that ______.

A:the date of production is a significant symbol to assess wine B:the original corks provided by sommeliers are indispensable to make counterfeits C:the subscribers of empty Lafite and Latour bottles are probably fake-makers or working for them D:the price of empty bottles is chiefly depended on the year in which the wine was produced

Wine buffs are like art collectors. Few can tell the difference between a well-made fake and the real thing. Yet whereas counterfeit art has been around for centuries, wine forgery is relatively new. It started in the late 1970s when the prices of the best wines—especially those from Bordeaux—shot up. Today, with demand from China fuelling a remarkable boom, counterfeiting is rife. By some estimates 5% of fine wines sold at auction or on the secondary market are not what they claim to be on the label.
The simplest technique is to slap the label of a 1982 Chàteau Lafite (one of the most prized recent vintages) onto a bottle of 1975 Lafite (a less divine year). Another trick is to bribe the sommelier of a fancy restaurant to pass on empty bottles that once held expensive wine, along with the corks. These can be refilled with cheaper wine, recorked and resealed. Empty Lafite and Latour bottles are sold on eBay for several hundred euros.
The margins are fruity. A great wine may cost hundreds of times more than a merely excellent one. Small wonder that oenophiles are growing more vigilant. Bill Koch, an energy tycoon and avid wine collector, currently has five lawsuits pending against merchants, auctioneers and other collectors. His grape-related gripes began in 2006, when he filed a complaint against a German wine dealer who sold bottles of Lafite he claimed had once belonged to Thomas Jefferson. The case is unresolved.
"There is a code of silence in the industry," says Mr. Koch, who owns 43,000 bottles of wine and estimates that he has spent $4m～5m on fakes. Some collectors are too proud to admit that they have been duped. Others fear sullying a vintage’s reputation and thereby reducing the value of their own collections. So instead of speaking out, "they dump their fakes into auctions or sell them to other private collectors," says Mr. Koch.
Wine merchants and auction houses say they are doing everything they can to filter out the fakes. Simon Berry, the chairman of Berry Brothers & Rudd, a British wine merchant, says his firm never buys wines from before 2000 unless they come from its own cellars. (Berry Brothers stores nearly 4m bottles on behalf of its customers. ) Christie’s, an auctioneer, says all the wines it auctions are inspected three times by different people, using detailed checklists for condition and authenticity.
Fear of fakery has not stopped the boom. But the wines that win the best prices at auction are those whose provenance is certain. In May, Christie’s sold an impériale (six-litre bottle) of 1961 Latour for $216,000 in Hong Kong. It came directly from the cellars of Chàteau Latour.
According to the text, which of the following will most probably happen in the future

A:The demand from China will become an important incentive for wine forgery. B:The counterfeits will lead to a calamity in the wine market. C:The collectors will break the code of silence in the industry and accuse the frauds. D:It will become more difficult for the counterfeits to enter auctions.

The consequences of heavy drinking are well documented: failing health, broken marriages, regrettable late-night phone calls. But according to Gregory Luzaich’s calculations, there can be a downside to modest drinking, too—though one that damages the wallet, not the liver.
The Pek Wine Steward prevents wine from spoiling by injecting argon, an inert gas, into the bottle before sealing it airtight with silicon. Mr. Luzaich. a mechanical engineer in Windsor, Calif.—in the Sonoma County wine country—first tallied the costs of his reasonable consumption in October 2001. "I’d like to come home in the evening and have a glass of wine with dinner," he said. "My wife doesn’t drink very much. so the bottle wouldn’t get consumed. And maybe I would forget about it the next day, and I’d check back a day or two later, and the wine would be spoiled." That meant he was wasting most of a $15 to $20 bottle of wine. dozens of times a year.
A cheek of the wine-preservation gadgets on the market left Mr. Luzaich dissatisfied High-end wine cabinets cost thousands of dollars—a huge investment for a glass-a-day drinker. Affordable preservers, meanwhile, didn’t quite perform to Mr. Luzaich’s liking; be thought they allowed too much oxidation, which degrades the taste of a wine.
The solution, he decided, was a better gas. Many preservers pumped nitrogen into an opened bottle to slow a wine’s decline, even though oenological literature suggested that argon was more effective. So when he began designing the Pek Wine Steward. a metal cone into which a wine bottle is inserted, Mr. Luzaich found that his main challenge was to figure out how best to introduce the argon.
He spent months fine-tuning a gas injection system. "We used computational fluid dynamics to model the gas flow," Mr. Luzaich said. referring to a computer-analysis technique that measures how smoothly particles are flowing. The goal was to create an injector that could swap a bottle’s oxygen atoms for argon atoms; argon is an inert gas, and thus unlikely to harm a nice Chianti.
Mr. Luzaich, who had previously designed medical and telecommunications products, also worked on creating an airtight seal, to secure the bottle after the argon was injected. He experimented with several substances, from neoprene to a visco-elastic polymer (which he dismissed as "too gooey"), before settling on a food-grade silicon.
To save wine, a bottle is placed inside the Pek Wine Steward, the top is closed, and a trigger is pulled for 5 to 10 seconds, depending on how much wine remains. When the trigger is released, the bottle is sealed automatically, preserving the wine for a week or more. the company says. "We wanted to make it very easy for the consumer," Mr. Luzaich said. "It’s basically mindless."
The device, which resembles a high-tech thermos, first became available to consumers in March 2004, and 8,000 to 10.000 have been sold, primarily through catalogs like those of The Wine Enthusiast and Hammacher Schlemmer The base model sells for $99; a deluxe model, which also includes a thermoelectric cooler, is $199

According to Gregory Luzaich. the disadvantage of modest drinking is（）

A:damaging the liver B:costing much C:breaking marriages D:spoiling the wine

The consequences of heavy drinking are well documented: failing health, broken marriages, regrettable late-night phone calls. But according to Gregory Luzaich’s calculations, there can be a downside to modest drinking, too—though one that damages the wallet, not the liver.
The Pek Wine Steward prevents wine from spoiling by injecting argon, an inert gas, into the bottle before sealing it airtight with silicon. Mr. Luzaich. a mechanical engineer in Windsor, Calif.—in the Sonoma County wine country—first tallied the costs of his reasonable consumption in October 2001. "I’d like to come home in the evening and have a glass of wine with dinner," he said. "My wife doesn’t drink very much. so the bottle wouldn’t get consumed. And maybe I would forget about it the next day, and I’d check back a day or two later, and the wine would be spoiled." That meant he was wasting most of a $15 to $20 bottle of wine. dozens of times a year.
A cheek of the wine-preservation gadgets on the market left Mr. Luzaich dissatisfied High-end wine cabinets cost thousands of dollars—a huge investment for a glass-a-day drinker. Affordable preservers, meanwhile, didn’t quite perform to Mr. Luzaich’s liking; be thought they allowed too much oxidation, which degrades the taste of a wine.
The solution, he decided, was a better gas. Many preservers pumped nitrogen into an opened bottle to slow a wine’s decline, even though oenological literature suggested that argon was more effective. So when he began designing the Pek Wine Steward. a metal cone into which a wine bottle is inserted, Mr. Luzaich found that his main challenge was to figure out how best to introduce the argon.
He spent months fine-tuning a gas injection system. "We used computational fluid dynamics to model the gas flow," Mr. Luzaich said. referring to a computer-analysis technique that measures how smoothly particles are flowing. The goal was to create an injector that could swap a bottle’s oxygen atoms for argon atoms; argon is an inert gas, and thus unlikely to harm a nice Chianti.
Mr. Luzaich, who had previously designed medical and telecommunications products, also worked on creating an airtight seal, to secure the bottle after the argon was injected. He experimented with several substances, from neoprene to a visco-elastic polymer (which he dismissed as "too gooey"), before settling on a food-grade silicon.
To save wine, a bottle is placed inside the Pek Wine Steward, the top is closed, and a trigger is pulled for 5 to 10 seconds, depending on how much wine remains. When the trigger is released, the bottle is sealed automatically, preserving the wine for a week or more. the company says. "We wanted to make it very easy for the consumer," Mr. Luzaich said. "It’s basically mindless."
The device, which resembles a high-tech thermos, first became available to consumers in March 2004, and 8,000 to 10.000 have been sold, primarily through catalogs like those of The Wine Enthusiast and Hammacher Schlemmer The base model sells for $99; a deluxe model, which also includes a thermoelectric cooler, is $199

According to the text, the "Pek Wine Steward" is（）

A:a metal cone B:a thermoelectric cooler C:a gas injector D:a wine preserver