Thursday, November 29, 2007

stop and smell the flowers...and the wine


Wine appreciation is in its own way an art form. The pretension in that statement is unavoidable, but it's true. There's always more to learn and more to master. Like playing an instrument or maybe more appropriately, like learning to cook. Especially in the realm of the sensual, there's a large grey area between right and wrong. In fact, one could most certainly argue there is no right or wrong. Sure, there is the technical stuff, like grape varietal, the source of the fruit, fermentation (natural or controlled yeasts, malolactic or not) aging (stainless steel, oak, ceramic), and of course the year bottled. However, when it gets down the actual analysis of the wine, the facts are academic. A wine could be perfect in all technical respects, but how it tastes and how it makes you feel is where the art lies. The beauty of a wine is truly in the tongue, or more precisely, in the nose of the beholder.

It is widely known that most of the flavors we absorb from foods and beverages are nuanced by smell. Our sense of taste is greatly limited, providing only a base upon which to build with scent. It is like a coloring book. Our tongue outlines the basic profile of the flavor, and our olfactory receptors busily color it in with any thousand different shades of aroma.

Everyone is familiar with the four primary taste sensations: salty, sour, bitter, and sweet. However, there is actually a fifth sensation known as umami, which is the response to glutamic acid, the most obvious form being monosodium glutamate, or MSG. Of course, it is also naturally occurring, mostly in fermented foods, namely parmesan cheese and soy sauce. For more information about taste, click here.

In wine circles, there is a lot of talk about palette and its vigorous and daunting training. This is most certainly an integral facet of wine appreciation. However, since odor is by far the dominant mechanism in registering taste, it is much more important to focus on the aroma, or bouquet of the wine. For this will ultimately lead you to salvation from the pretentious banter of over-zealous flavor profilers.

To Begin


It's always the hardest thing, isn't it? To create something from nothing. Once you've got something, it may not be much, but at least it's momentum. Until you have that, all you've got is inertia. Inertia is the seedy culprit. It is the fly in your soup, the crumbs in your bed, and the cork in your wine. It exists to prevent sublime satisfaction, and we are always overcoming it. But the joy that comes with the day's first glass of wine is the jewel in a fountain of stress and obligation. It is the relinquishing of necessity and the embrace of desire, and it is incomparable. It is my mission to make this hedonistic delight more approachable, affordable, and most of all, enjoyable. I've already had a glass. Have you?