Many of my earliest memories from childhood, before we moved from the South Texas tropics to the high desert of New Mexico, are images of my maternal Grandma Wade’s farm. It was a sprawling 2,000-acre expanse of cotton fields that surrounded her house, several barns holding farm equipment, a machine shop, and multiple garages. A paved semi-circular driveway went around the house, linking to Farm Road 1, which led to the nearby village of La Villa (population 500). Towering ebony trees, filled with nesting birds during the spring, lined the drive. Just across the drive from the front porch was Grandma’s flower garden, a screen-enclosed sanctuary to hundreds of exotic plants she had collected on her travels. Rumor had it that she had even been to Cuba at some point in the early 1950s before the advent of the Castro era.

Just a stone’s throw away from the house were several sizeable corrals that once held cattle. By the time I was old enough to clamber over the fences, the corrals were covered in burlap and filled with acres of aloe vera plants that Grandma sold to a company that processed them for medicinal purposes. No surprise that she was a staunch believer in the healing properties of aloe vera. Every day she slathered her skin in clear aloe gel until shiny, and then applied a generous powdering of Jungle Gardenia, which always screamed floral in her wake. Grandma even drank watered down aloe gel for her digestive tract. She kept it in quart Mason jars in the fridge. Only problem was that she also kept drinking water in the same kind of jars. Many times I reached into the fridge for a jar of water only to pour a tall glass, tale a huge gulp, and realize that is was aloe. Gack!

Inside the house several refrigerated air units that were mounted in the windows continually hummed. Originally Grandpa had central AC installed when the house was built in 1950, which was revolutionary for the time. However, after he passed several years later, Grandma had the window units installed because she didn’t trust central air conditioning. With refrigerated air being constantly on, a musty smell pervaded the house. Enter the middle bedroom, which was stacked floor to ceiling with old newspapers and magazines, and the musty smell became a force field. Yes, Grandma was a hoarder, long before it became fashionable TV. As for the musty smell, only many years later was I to learn that it was trichloranisole—or TCA—the same compound that taints wine corks. And to think that I was inundated with it at times as a child.

At some point Grandma started to use a single crutch to get around. That crutch served as an instrument of discipline, often used to keep the mangy lot of us kids in line. Many times a sudden whack across the butt would put an end to the tomfoolery of the moment. Then there was the time when Grandma caught my sister Tina and me trying on her wigs in the bathroom. Many whacks were instantly issued.

When Grandma wasn’t whacking us with her crutch, she was in the kitchen at the stove or at the counter prepping something for the stove. My memories of Grandma’s cooking involve a lot of breaded protein deep-fried in butter or lard. Vegetables from the multi-acre garden just beyond the aloe corrals were summarily shot on sight and cooked until rendered inorganic. Anything in the green vegetable universe was khaki by the time it was served. Boiled okra, one of Granny’s favorites, had the texture (and color) of snot. When the okra was breaded with cornmeal and fried, it had a crunchy outer crust but still the same mucous inner layer.

Aside from deep fried beast and khaki veggies, the true staple of Grandma’s cooking was her applesauce cake. It was—and still is—the stuff of family culinary legend. I remember watching her standing at the counter, crutch at the ready, mixing the cake directly into an enormous rectangular baking pan. It goes without saying that Grandma didn’t need a recipe, having previously made the cake from scratch hundreds of times. As she mixed up the batter, she talked non-stop in her raspy/whiny voice telling me what ingredients were being flung into the pan at the moment.

Truth be told, cake assembly was so fast that it was hard to keep up. But the last step before putting the pan into the oven was the best. Then, to get all the air bubbles out of the batter, Grandma picked up the pan and dropped it back on the counter with a deafening smack. Granny did this repeatedly until she was satisfied that all the hidden bubbles in the batter were gone. To me it was a thrilling moment of full-contact baking.

Some 45 minutes later, the cake was taken out of the oven and left to cool. Finally, after several preemptive cake strikes on our part had been warded off by the evil crutch, slices of warm, almost gooey cake were cut and served with ice cream. The first bite was beyond delicious.

In the first few years after we moved to New Mexico Grandma would visit always bringing a sizable portion of a cake in her luggage. It was a treat beyond compare. Grandma also taught Mom how to make her applesauce cake. But try as she might, Mom’s version was never quite as good. I’m sure the high altitude and dry climate of Albuquerque were to blame. However, I also have to think that it was a matter of Grandma being the source, urtext, and author of great applesauce cakes.  
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In the many years since, I’ve never tasted another applesauce cake remotely as good as Grandma’s. Her glorious applesauce cakes will live forever in my memory, along with cotton fields, ebony trees, and acres of aloe vera plants. And that’s how it should be.

It was April of 2001 and my second trip to Germany. I had been there the year before with the same importer. During that first trip we traversed through most of the wine regions in the country for over a week, visiting as many as four wineries a day. Lest you think a trip like this is a picnic, let me point out that tasting over 400 young high-acid Rieslings in eight days is utterly brutal on one’s teeth and gums. After returning, I had to reschedule cleaning my teeth for a couple of months. Otherwise, my dentist—and dental hygienist—would have been appalled. The scolding would have been legendary. There’s nothing like dental shaming.

The second trip started with three days in the Mosel, surely one of the most gorgeous wine places on the planet. The valley looks like someone decided to plant a section of the Grand Canyon with grape vines almost two millennia ago. The producers we visited in the Mosel were all stars including the likes of Mönchhof, Wegeler, Dr. F. Weins Prüm, J.J. Prüm, Fritz Haag, Schloss Lieser, and finally Rheinhold Haart in Piesport. At every stop we were tasting the 2000 vintage which had just been bottled. We also had the opportunity to taste a lot of older wines which was wonderful.

After our time in the Mosel we drove for several hours to Iphofen in Franken, traditionally called Franconia. Our one stop in region was at the Hans Wirsching winery. While the Mosel is the epicenter of Riesling, in Franken the Silvaner grape is king. Few, if any, do Silvaner better in Germany than Wirsching, much less anywhere else on the planet.

A note about Silvaner. More often than not, the grape (sometimes spelled Sylvaner) is about as thrilling as an old Toyota Camry. In other words, it gets you places but no one is excited. Not so with the Wirsching wines. Their top Grosses Gewächs Silvaner wines from the Iphofer Julius-Echter-Berg and  Iphofer Kronsberg vineyards are among the finest wines made from the grape anywhere.

After tasting the entire range of stellar Wirsching wines from the new vintage, we went next door for lunch. The meal was set up in a long, wood-paneled room with the walls filled with various trophies of small game animals that had met a sudden and tragic fate by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Lunch was comprised of a theme and variations on Vitamin P—pork. Platters of sausages of every shape and kind, some resembling Dr. Seuss creations, were passed. After I piled my plate high in an assortment of wurst I asked the woman serving us for some mustard. She didn’t speak English so I quickly turned to the son of the importer to translate. He rattled off something in German to her. She first stared in disbelief at him—and then me—before quickly turning on her heels and striding back into the kitchen. After many long minutes she returned with a small, ancient metal can of powered mustard. She then made a huge gesture out of showing me the can before sharply whacking it down on the table in front of me. I paused, thinking that if I asked for anything else my head would quickly join the others displayed on the room’s walls.

I was stunned. What was a kitchen in Germany without real mustard? I was also in a quandary. I had to use the mustard for the sake of appearances, if not survival. Using a table knife, I managed to pry the small lid off the top of the can and then scooped a mound of the yellow-brown powder on to my plate. For the record, it looked like rust from an old pipe. Then, using the skills of a four-year-old first encountering broccoli, I moved the mustard around my plate after eating the delectable sausages. Problem solved and international incident avoided.

Fast forward to the end of the trip. The second to the last day we were in the Pfalz region just across the Rhein from Alsace. The Pfalz, formerly the Rheinpfalz or the Palatinate, has historically been the sunniest and warmest region in Germany. The wines of the Pfalz, especially the Rieslings in both dry and sweet versions, are opulent, powerful, and utterly delicious. As for history, some two-thousand years ago the Romans conquered the area to take advantage of its thriving agriculture and strategic geographical location on an important trade route. I mention this because the entire region is literally strewn with Roman ruins and artifacts. I remember our car pulling up to a stop sign on a country road at one point and looking over to see a stone sarcophagus in someone’s front yard that had probably there for the better part of 2,000 years.

Lunch that day was in the town of Bad Durkheim at a famous restaurant called Dürkheimer Fass. Why famous? Because the restaurant is located in what is believed to be the world’s largest wine barrel. It’s nearly 50 feet in diameter and if filled with wine would hold almost 550,000 gallons. In other words, it’s a really big-ass barrel.

Victuals involved another huge plate of sausages (when in Rome) along with real honest-to-god Wiener Schnitzel. The latter was tender and juicy with a light crispy crust lathered in an artery-stopping cream sauce. No wonder so many of the older Germans seated at the tables around us were shaped like smaller versions of the restaurant.

On being served my plate of sausages I once again pined for mustard. After the previous episode I was hesitant about asking for anything. But I mustered the courage (ha!) and asked our waitress, who spoke perfect English, if I could have some mustard. She immediately smiled and said, “of course.” Within seconds she returned not with an ancient tin of caustic powder, but a large tray filled with various jars of locally produced mustard. It goes without saying that I was beside myself with condiment bliss.
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I thanked her profusely and then told her about my experience at Wirsching. She listened intently, her frown growing and her eyes narrowing the longer the story went on. When I finished the tale she looked at the floor for a long moment and then looked up at me hissing the phrase, “filthy barbarians.”

Later that afternoon in the car I thought about her response. In the olden days, the mustard provocation at Wirsching could easily have ignited an incident. If the exchange had happened with nobles around the table it could have been deadly. Someone’s face would have been roundly struck with a heavy glove and a challenge issued. Chairs would have been pushed back violently and a medieval version of the Jets and Sharks would have ensued sans dancing and snappy Leonard Bernstein soundtrack.

In the end, food regionalism—even of the mustard variety--runs deep. I think about sweet tea in the American south, what passes for chile in any other part of the U.S. outside New Mexico, and the vast and mysterious universe of BBQ. I’ll never be able to fathom the latter. Whatever the case, there’s just one thing:
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Never, ever, screw around with mustard. ​

Recently I read an online article about glassware. I learned that during the pandemic last year Americans drank 14% more than the previous year. No surprise given the stress of shelter in place and what with everyone always being home. I also learned that Americans purchased more wine online last year and, not surprisingly, more wine glasses than ever. The article then goes on to quote several industry professionals about their personal glassware choices. One mentioned that they drank wine out of small mason pint jars at home. Another admitted to using old McDonald’s glassware found at a thrift shop when hanging out with friends so as not to be so serious about the whole wine thing.

Several thoughts came to mind. First, I guess everyone gets a gold star for just showing up, aka drinking wine. After all, that seems to be the age in which we currently live. Beyond that, the gist of the article was that nowadays there are no hard and fast rules pertaining to use of wine glasses. In reality, this is ancient news. People have always been more than welcome to enjoy wine using whatever kind of delivery vehicle they so choose.

All snarkiness aside, one’s glassware needs lie somewhere between a Venn diagram and Maslow’s hierarchy of crystal needs. To begin, do you even care—or know enough to care--about wine to use a decent glass? If not, it doesn’t matter and you should feel free to use whatever vessel available when wine is the beverage of choice. However, there’s one thing you should know. Regardless of what you may think, your experience with a plastic tumbler of Merlot is not going to be the same—or as good--as mine, when tasting the same wine using decent stemware. I’m not talking about the “gold star/everyone’s potential enjoyment being equal” kind of a thing. I’m talking about chemistry.

The term “wine tasting” is a complete misnomer. Smell accounts for at least 85% of the sense of taste and the operative phrase should be “wine smelling.” That’s because the aromatics in wine are volatile compounds, with most attached to ethanol, or alcohol. As the wine comes into contact with air the volatiles start to evaporate at different rates, resulting in a range of different aromas. How important is olfactory in tasting wine? Someone with a good deal of tasting experience does most of their work with a wine by smelling--and not tasting--it. To point, by the time you get around to actually tasting the wine you should be confirming what you’ve already smelled and calibrating the structural elements (acidity, alcohol, tannin, etc.).

There’s more. The bit about Klaus Riedel and his experiments with glass shapes and sizes over sixty years ago was groundbreaking then--and it’s still relevant and important now. Quality wine glasses matter a great deal. They’re like audio equipment in that cheap and lousy speakers (or ear buds) make music, however well-recorded, sound shitty. Good speakers/buds deliver sound the way the artist, engineer, and producer intended. Likewise, cheap, ill-shaped glassware alters—even nullifies—aromatics and flavors in wine. The good news is that unlike the above-mentioned speakers, which can get absurdly expensive in cost (as in six figures), the very best crystal—Riedel Sommelier Burgundy and Bordeaux glasses—still runs for less than $150 per stem. But you don’t have to swing for the fences to get quality glassware. Good, all-purpose wine glasses cost a fraction of that. More below.

I have to call an official time-out at this point to bring up a much-needed caveat to my rant: context. As with everything in wine (and life), context is the ultimate trump card. Context meaning the setting, occasion, and the company you share the vino with—but not necessarily the wine itself, much less the glassware.
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One of the greatest wine experiences I’ve ever had was many moons ago in a trattoria in Florence, and involved the most delicious Chianti Classico I’ve ever tasted. The wine was served out of a large, heavy glass tumbler that could have easily doubled as a weapon in a bar fight. But the combination of being in Florence for the first time with the woman of my dreams made the meal—and the wine—unforgettable. 

​Context aside, the common denominators for quality stemware have never changed. They include the following:

• Clear glass without markings or etchings
• Made from crystal
• Have a stem
• Egg-shaped with a tapered bowl
• A capacity of at least 14 ounces—larger is better for red wine
• Have a thin, cut lip

Glassware Recommendations
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If you’re starting out or just want to find a good all-purpose glass, here are several options to consider:

Riedel: The Overture red wine glass is versatile for any number of different wines—both white and red. It’s a good value as well. More on Riedel below.
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Stölzel: The Exquisit Shiraz red wine glass is also a good value and works well for both white and red wines.

Spiegelau: The Winelover’s Bordeaux glass is arguably the best value in all-purpose glassware with a set of four retailing for around $30.

Schott Zwiesel: The Tritan Pure Collection Cabernet/All Purpose Red is a favorite all-purpose glass in that it’s made from titanium oxide and zirconium oxide, and supposedly unbreakable (not entirely true) and dishwasher safe.

Zalto: is produced from mouth-blown, non-lead crystal. The Denk’Art Burgundy glass in particular is a favorite of sommeliers and other industry pros. It’s light in hand and beautifully designed. Be aware that it’s also considerably more in cost than all the previously listed glasses.

Personal Favorites

If I had to take just one glass to the proverbial tropical isle it would be the Riedel Vinum Zinfandel/Chianti Classico glass. It’s elegant, attractive, and doesn’t cost a fortune. I also like the Riedel Vinum Extreme Riesling glass and use it often for both white and red wines. Otherwise, at some point you may want to expand the lineup. Here are the four glasses I use at home most often. All are Riedel Vinum: 

Champagne flute: sparkling wines of all kind and Champagne

Zinfandel/Chianti Classico: white wine, rosé, and dessert wines

Pinot Noir: as well as Burgundy, Nebbiolo-based wines, Grenache blends, and more.  

Bordeaux/Cabernet Sauvignon: all Cabernet family grapes/wines
 
Finally, a wizened bit of advice when it comes to cleaning and polishing glassware. Always wash and polish glasses the next day—when you’re sober. Washing glassware the night of a dinner or party only leads to casualties. Wait until the next morning and then, with coffee or other favorite morning stimulant in hand, rinse the glassware with hot water and polish with a micro-fiber cloth. If you’ve had guests over and the microbiome has been expanded, use a bit of mild detergent and then rinse the glasses thoroughly in very hot water. Polish after.
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Prost!

Ann-Sophie Barwich is a scientist and professor with joint positions in the Cognitive Science Program and the Department of History and Philosophy of Science at Indiana University Bloomington. Her recent book called Smellosophy is about all things olfactory. While it may have a cutsie name, it’s anything but. The book is written for neuro-scientists and the nomenclature is dense and barely readable by the consumer, much less your humble author.

In a chapter called “Perception as a Skill,” Barwich goes into considerable detail about watching part of the second Somm movie (Into the Bottle) in which then student--now MS--Ian Cauble tastes on camera. As Cauble goes through a wine using the MS deductive tasting grid, Barwich comments on what she thinks Cauble is doing using the context of her knowledge and research. I think she misses several important points but that’s another story. Arguably the most important idea presented in the chapter comes from a comment made by one of Barwich’s colleagues: “skilled pattern recognition is what unites the perceptual expertise of perfumers and sommeliers.”

It’s a brilliant statement and describes what we as professionals do when analyzing wine. In Ian’s case, this means taking a wine through the lengthy list that makes up the MS deductive tasting grid. Think about it for a moment. A wine has to be assessed using over 40 different criteria. Given there may be several different kinds of fruit and non-fruit savory aromas/flavors in a wine, there could be several dozen itty-bitty pieces of sensory information that have be recognized, logged, and kept in one’s internal field in order to be able to get to the finish line and make a conclusion about the wine’s identity.

The conclusion is by far the trickiest part of the entire exercise. For the record, it consistently freaks the hell out of students. It also requires pattern recognition in the form of being able to identify a handful of the most important aromatics I call “impact compounds” and then matching them to the fruit quality/character and the structural levels (acid, alcohol, phenolic bitterness, and tannin) in the wine. All this information is visually represented internally, even the structural aspects which are images of some kind of scale or dial to confirm what’s being tasted and felt on the palate.
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Before making a conclusion, Cauble--and practically any taster for that matter-- literally looks internally at five-to-nine images in his mind’s eye that represent key smells/tastes and structural levels, and then concludes, “wow, this must be Gran Reserva Rioja from 2012.” Or something like that. Note I said practically. It’s not universal. It’s been my experience that a very small percentage of tasters are true synesthetes, who regularly experience cross-talk between the senses and process the wine experience in a completely different way.

Pattern recognition goes far beyond wine tasting. Every second of the day we’re bombarded with countless bits of sensory information. If our brain didn’t filter out 99.9% of it, our motherboards would constantly freeze. What’s interesting is how we we’re able to constantly categorize all the information and look for patterns we recognize so the world makes “sense” to us. This allows us to find our mate in a sea of faces (now more challenging because of masks) or remember how to get dressed in the dark (or not).

Pattern recognition is an important strategy for identifying grapes and wines when blind tasting, not to mention judging quality and assessing typicity. The following is a guide of sorts to classic grapes and wines, each with a subset of the most important impact compounds, fruit qualities, and structural levels. Memorizing these subsets will help to form unique internal “patterns” for recognizing grapes and wines during an exam. It goes without say that these patterns are my own. I strongly recommend that students use them as a launching point and create their own lists.

White Grapes and Wines

Chardonnay: Chablis 1er Cru
Fruit quality: tart
Impact compounds: lees contact, possible malolactic (ML), pronounced chalky minerality, and possible use of oak
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity.

Chardonnay: Côtes de Beaune
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: lees – ML – mushroom/earth/mineral – oak usage (often new)
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity

Chardonnay: New World
Fruit quality: tart – ripe - over ripe
Impact compounds: lees contact – ML – oak usage (often new)
Structure: dry to off dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity

Sauvignon Blanc: Sancerre/Pouilly-Fumé
Fruit quality: tart
Impact compounds: green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) - pronounced chalky mineral - possible oak in Pouilly-Fumé
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity

Sauvignon Blanc: New Zealand
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – possible mineral
Structure: dry - medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity

Chenin Blanc: Loire Valley
Fruit quality: tart - ripe – botrytis influence
Impact compounds: SO2 - possible botrytis – considerable chalky minerality
Structure: bone dry to medium sweet depending on style - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity    
       
Chenin Blanc: California – Washington State
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: overt fruit basket quality - possible residual sugar
Structure: off-dry to slightly sweet - medium alcohol - medium-plus acidity
 
Albariño: Spain – Rias Biaxas
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: considerable floral (terpenes) - pilsner-lees contact – mineral
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity - phenolic bitterness

Grüner Veltliner: Austria
Fruit quality: tart – ripe - possible botrytis influence
Impact compounds: white pepper (rotundone) - herbal-vegetal-botanical notes – lees contact - earth/mineral - botrytis influence depending on style
Structure: dry to off dry - medium to high alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity – phenolic bitterness

Riesling: Germany
Fruit quality: tart – ripe - possible botrytis influence
Impact compounds: possible SO2 – TDN - possible botrytis influence - pronounced slate/mineral
Structure: dry (trocken) to very sweet depending on classification - low to medium alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity

Riesling: Alsace
Fruit quality: tart - ripe - possible botrytis
Impact compounds: TDN - possible botrytis - considerable earth/mineral
Structure: dry to slightly sweet - medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity

Riesling: Clare Valley and Eden Valley
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: considerable TDN - pronounced mineral
Structure: bone dry to dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity

Pinot Gris: Alsace
Fruit quality: ripe – possible botrytis
Impact compounds: ripe fruit quality - possible botrytis
Structure: dry to off-dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - phenolic bitterness

Pinot Grigio: Alto Adige
Fruit quality: tart
Impact compounds: floral (terpenes) – lees contact – mineral
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus acidity – slight phenolic bitterness

Viognier: Northern Rhône
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: considerable floral (terpenes) – less contact – ML – mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - phenolic bitterness

Viognier: California - Australia
Fruit quality: ripe – overripe
Impact compounds: considerable floral (terpenes) – lees contact – ML – oak usage
Structure: dry to off-dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - phenolic bitterness

Gewurztraminer: Alsace
Fruit quality: ripe – over ripe – canned - possible botrytis influence
Impact compounds: pronounced floral (terpenes) – possible botrytis – considerable earth/mineral
Structure: dry to slightly sweet - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-minus to medium acidity - pronounced phenolic bitterness

Muscat à Petits Grains: Alsace
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – over ripe
Impact compounds: pronounced floral (terpenes) – possible botrytis -   earth/mineral
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - considerable phenolic bitterness

Torrontés: Argentina
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: overt fruit quality - considerable floral (terpenes) – common lack of earth/mineral
Structure: dry - medium-plus alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity – considerable phenolic bitterness

Marsanne-Roussanne Blend: Rhône Valley
Fruit quality: tart - ripe – over ripe
Impact compounds: floral/terpenes in lighter style – oxidative character in oak-aged wines – earth/mineral – possible oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol – medium to medium-plus acidity - phenolic bitterness

Semillon: Bordeaux - Graves Sec
Fruit quality: tart and ripe
Impact compounds: SO2/mercaptan note – mineral – phenolic bitterness – possible oak usage
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus acidity – slight phenolic bitterness 

Semillon: Bordeaux: Sauternes – Barsac
Fruit quality: ripe – over ripe - botrytis influence
Impact compounds: botrytis character – pronounced earth – oak usage
Structure: medium sweet to dessert sweet - medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity

Semillon: Australia: Hunter Valley
Fruit quality: tart – under ripe
Impact compounds: two styles: stainless steel wines with floral/terpenes – mineral – phenolic bitterness; oak-aged wines - oxidative character – mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-minus to medium-plus alcohol – medium-plus to high acidity

Melon de Bourgogne: Muscadet
Fruit quality: tart
ID Keys: lees contact – pronounced mineral
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - high acidity

Assyrtiko: Santorini
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
ID Keys: tart-ripe fruit quality - pronounced minerality – possible oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity – considerable phenolic bitterness

Red Grapes and Wines

Cabernet Sauvignon Blend: Left Bank Bordeaux
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Cabernet Sauvignon: California
Fruit quality: ripe – over ripe – raisinated
ID Keys: possible raisination – possible green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) - new oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Cabernet Sauvignon: South Australia – Coonawarra
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
ID Keys: pronounced green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – possible mint/eucalyptus – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Merlot Blend: Right Bank Bordeaux
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact compounds: green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus tannin (softer tannin than Left Bank wines)

Merlot: California - Australia
Fruit quality: ripe – over ripe
Impact compounds: possible green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – oak usage
Structure: dry ­- medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus tannin (softer tannin than Cabernet Sauvignon)

Cabernet Franc: Loire Valley
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact Compounds: pronounced green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – possible stem inclusion - considerable chalky mineral – oak usage (used)
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Malbec: Argentina - Mendoza 
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact compounds: opaque purple color – possible green herbal/vegetal (pyrazines) – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus tannin

Carmenère: Chile
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: pronounced vegetal/green peppercorn (pyrazines) - possible earth – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Pinot Noir: Burgundy – Côte de Nuits
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: lighter color - possible stem inclusion – considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Pinot Noir: Burgundy - Côte de Beaune
Fruit quality: tart - ripe
Impact compounds: lighter color - possible stem inclusion – considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Impact compounds: lighter color – possible stem inclusion – earthier than Côte de Nuits – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Pinot Noir: California and Oregon
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact compounds: possible stem inclusion – possible earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Pinot Noir: New Zealand
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact compounds: lighter color – possible stem inclusion – herb/leaf – possible mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Gamay: Beaujolais Villages
Fruit quality: tart – ripe - candied
Impact compounds: lighter color – carbonic maceration notes - stem inclusion – earth/mineral
Structure: dry - medium alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-minus to medium tannin

Gamay: Beaujolais Cru
Fruit quality: tart – ripe
Impact compounds: possible carbonic or semi-carbonic notes – possible stem inclusion – earth/mineral – possible oak usage (used)
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Sangiovese: Tuscany—Chianti Classico
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried
Impact compounds: anise/herb - considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: bone dry to dry - medium plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity - medium-plus tannin

Sangiovese: Brunello di Montalcino
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried - oxidized
Impact compounds: anise/herb - considerable earth/mineral – oxidative character - oak usage (barrique or larger barrel)
Structure: bone dry to dry - medium plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Sangiovese: Vino Nobile di Montepulciano
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried
Impact compounds: fruit ripeness (darker fruit from international varieties) - considerable earth/mineral - oak usage (barrique or larger barrel)
Structure: bone dry to dry – medium to medium plus alcohol - medium-plus to high acidity – medium tannin

Nebbiolo: Piedmont - Barolo and Barbaresco
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried - oxidized
Impact compounds: evolved color and secondary color – pronounced floral – considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: bone dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - high acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Barbera: Piedmont
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried – possible oxidation
Impact compounds: herbal notes – possible oxidation – earth/mineral – possible oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Corvina Blends: Veneto – Amarone
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried – raisinated – oxidized - botrytis
Impact compounds: pronounced raisination – volatile acidity – possible botrytis – possible Brettanomyces - considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry to off-dry - high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Aglianico: Campania
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried
Impact compounds: baked fruit quality – reductive/sulfur compound quality – pronounced earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry – medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Tempranillo: Spain - Rioja Reserva and Gran Reserva
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried - oxidized
Impact compounds: dried/oxidative character – chalk-mineral – oak usage (American oak with traditional wines)
Structure: dry with medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Zinfandel: California - Dry Creek Valley
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – jammy - raisinated
Impact compounds: possible uneven fruit ripeness - black/white pepper (rotundone) – lack of earth/mineral – oak usage (often American)
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Syrah: Northern Rhône
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried
Impact compounds: possible uneven fruit ripeness - black/white pepper (rotundone) – savory meat/game qualities – possible Brettanomyces - considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium to high tannin

Syrah: Australia - Barossa Shiraz
Fruit quality: tart – ripe – dried - raisinated
Impact compounds: possible raisinated fruit - black/white pepper (rotundone) – savory meat/game qualities –– oak usage (sometimes American)
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium-plus tannin

Grenache Blend: Southern Rhône – Châteauneuf-du-Pape/Gigondas
Fruit quality: ripe – jammy – cooked - dried
Impact compounds: Mediterranean herb/garrigue - black/white pepper (rotundone) – savory meat/game qualities - considerable earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin 

Grenache: Australia - Barossa
Fruit quality: ripe – jammy
Impact compounds: jammy fruit quality - black/white pepper (rotundone) – mint/eucalyptus – oak usage
Structure: dry - high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium-plus tannin

Mourvèdre: Provence – Bandol
Fruit quality: tart - ripe – jammy
Impact compounds: black/white pepper (rotundone) - savory herb - possible reductive quality – pronounced earth/mineral - oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium-plus acidity - medium-plus to high tannin

Monastrell: Spain – Jumilla
Fruit quality: ripe – jammy
Impact compounds: jammy-raisinated quality - black/white pepper (rotundone) - savory herb – earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium-plus to high alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Pinotage - South Africa
Fruit quality: tart - ripe – jammy
Impact compounds: pronounced herbal/vegetal – possible reductive/sulfur compound – possible Brettanomyces – pronounced earth/mineral – oak usage
Structure: dry - medium to medium-plus alcohol - medium to medium-plus acidity - medium to medium-plus tannin

Author’s note: Here are some suggestions on how to use the information in this post.

• There is a great deal of information above. Break it down into three-to five grapes at a time to make it manageable.
• In regards to your internal images, make them big, bright, and close in proximity in your internal field.

• You’ll need to be able to visually represent the structural levels internally. Use a scale or a dial to do so. For more information, see the post called “Sight Unseen” from January of 2020.
• In your internal field, fan the images of important aromatics out in front of you in a simple pattern—left to right, up-down, or whatever is easiest. Do the same with the structural elements.
• Make auditory part of your memory work. As you “look at” the internal pattern of aromatic and structure level images, name each internally—or out loud.
• Remember to have fun with the process.  

To an outsider, a wine trip seems like a dream junket where we, the anointed industry professionals, are escorted in luxury from winery to winery in some foreign exotic locale. And once there, we’re treated like royalty by winery owners and importers as we taste (drink) our way through zillions of expensive wines and eat at fabulous restaurants.

In reality, wine trips are a totally different thing. More often than not, the trips are like death marches where you and a group of people in the trade you probably don’t know (but will soon know all too well) are stuck in a van for hours a day for a week or more. And the daily schedule of appointments can be brutal with four or five stops a day and between 60-100 wines tasted.

Hopefully the food will be decent. Many times it’s not. Because wine is involved with every meal save breakfast there’s entirely too much protein and little in the way of green. There was a time when vegetarians perished on one of these trips. Now it’s better but vegans are still in the same boat. Traveling in Spain or Italy and you’re a vegan? Good luck.

Eventually, the metabolic seesaw of stimulants, depressants, and too little sleep takes its toll. Then someone in the van gets sick. If one person gets a cold or worse, everyone gets it. And there’s always the possibility for a shared food poisoning experience.

There’s another aspect to wine trips rarely mentioned, but experienced by all: the drivers. They can be consummate pros or ordinary hacks who somehow got roped into driving your group around for the day or a week. The young Greek lad who drove our group around his country for 10 days comes to mind. He wore the same polyester disco shirt the entire trip. I tried not to get close to him after the first couple of days. I’m sure he just stood the shirt up in his hotel room at night. And he definitely redefined the term “terroir.” Yes, car experiences on wine trips can sometimes be the stuff of legend. But they can also be some of the most terrifying moments in one’s life. Here are four personal fear and loathing experiences on the wine trail.

I: March, 2000 - Aconcagua, Chile

At the time I was working for the artist formerly known as the original wine.com. The trip was billed as a “Sommelier Summit” for a group of august U.S. wine professionals. For several days, we were shown wine country in and around Santiago and Casablanca near Valparaiso. On the last day of the tour I opted out of sightseeing with the group to instead go to a small winery in the Aconcagua about 90 minutes from where we were staying. My assignment was to taste through their inventory and choose some selections to direct import for wine.com.

I was picked up promptly at 8:00 AM by a young goateed lad in a smallish Euro car. I piled into the front seat and immediately noticed two things: first, that the floor was littered with trash and fast-food wrappers, and second, there was a small plastic statuette of the virgin attached to the dashboard. Little did I know I’d be praying to the tiny icon in a matter of minutes.

Goateed lad immediately took off full blast from the hotel into traffic. In no time we were on the highway, which wasn’t actually a highway but a two-lane affair with a middle passing lane. My driver immediately started to pass any car or truck he could. In short order I discovered the gestalt of highway driving in Chile: your single mission was to go as fast as you could and pass every vehicle in front of you to do just that. Using your blinker was less than optional. But there’s more. All the vehicles on the road with you were trying to do the same—even those in the opposite lane. This meant that the middle lane became a dangerous DMZ of sorts in which a never-ending game of chicken was played with the bigger vehicle or driver having the largest cajones winning quick and perilous stand offs.

Within minutes I was gripping the hand rest with one hand, the seat with the other, and repeatedly stomping on an imaginary brake pedal which was in reality a pile of trash. I must have told goatee man that we weren’t in a hurry at least a dozen times. He nodded every time and then stepped on the gas. At some point during the first hour I had the sudden realization that my life was in the young man’s hands. And if the gods were willing for us to live to see another day it would be. If not, at least the end would be quick. But it would also be messy.
​
In time we did make it to the winery which was in the foothills of the 20,000-foot Mt. Aconcagua. It turns out that goateed lad was one of the sons of the owner. The latter took me through the winery, which was not much more than a concrete and corrugated metal building filled with tanks and barrels. Then we sat at a table and tasted through over 20 wines, mostly red. I made notes and chose six of the samples. We then talked about pricing and the logistics of shipping the wines to California. After a quick lunch it was time for the return trip back to the hotel. It was just as harrowing. But I don’t remember most of it because I slept—or pretended to. 

II: April, 2006 - Douro, Portugal

I was in Portugal with friend and fellow MS Keith Goldston under the auspices of AMORIM, the giant cork producer. For the better part of week we had toured cork forest, cork production plants, and a few wineries. Towards the end of the trip we drove from Porto to the Douro Valley located about two hours away. The Douro is one of the oldest vineyard areas in Europe. It’s also a barren moonscape that resembles the Grand Canyon, with vines planted on steep craggy hillsides that rise hundreds of feet up from the Douro River. Dynamite is actually used to put in new vineyards. The climate is also extreme, with temps averaging over a hundred degrees during the summer. Fortunately we were there in March before the heat set in.

Our driver for the week was the lovely Maria Rosita. She was bubbly, charming, and talked a mile-a-second. Maria was perpetually on her flip phone (remember, this was 2006) giving trip updates to her boss or chatting with friends. Maria also drove fast. Insanely fast. We must have made the trip between Lisbon and Porto in record time.

Our first appointment in the Douro lasted until late afternoon, when it began to rain. Keith and I piled into the back of the rental with Maria at the wheel. Our destination was the hotel/restaurant for the night. In no time it was dark and pouring. Once settled behind the wheel, Maria rolled her window down (deluge and all), lit a cigarette, and then put on a cassette (yes, a cassette) of the Rolling Stones full blast. She had already told us multiple times that they were her favorite band. Maria then called one of her best friends to talk about the soccer game the night before between Porto—her team—and a close rival.
​
From there, things went like this: it’s pitch dark and raining in sheets. From my window I can see the lights of buildings on the banks of the river hundreds of feet below. The town of Pinhão, our destination, is blinking in the distance. Maria is driving as fast as the tiny single lane road—now shiny and slick--will allow. There are wickedly sharp switchbacks and hairpin turns at regular intervals—but they’re not well marked. Meanwhile, Maria is yelling into her phone and waving her cigarette out the window with the other. I’m not sure how the car is being steered. With each turn Keith and I are tossed against each other or against our door. But the finishing touch is the music. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” is blaring from the fuzzy warbles sounds system. The song has never been the same for me. It never will be.

III: April 2006 - Douro Portugal

Same trip the next day. In the morning we toured Quinta do Crasto, a Port producer. After lunch Maria dropped us off at Niepoort, a historic family-owned house that specializes in aged Tawny Ports and dry wines from Port varieties. Dirk Niepoort is one of Portugal’s most important winemakers. He’s also an affable no-nonsense guy. After introductions we piled into his Land Rover for the trip up a very steep hill—as in, a 40-plus-percent grade—to the winery. The Land Rover was ancient: one of those thick rattly metal cans with an engine and drive train that are good for nothing other than traversing off-road or up really steep hills at a snail’s pace.

I got in the front seat next to Dirk. Keith and Roger Archey from the PR company were in the back. I immediately noticed that there were no seat belts and mentioned it to Dirk. He looked at me as if I had two heads. “Why would you need them up there?” he asked. I shrugged. We then chug-chugged in slow motion up the bumpy dirt road to the top.

Just as we reached the summit Dirk suddenly said, “Shit, I left the keys down at the house.” At this point any normal/sane person would have slowly turned the car around to go back downhill. But not Dirk. With left hand on the steering wheel, he clanked the mighty Land Rover into reverse. Then he turned around to look backwards and told us, “you’d better hold on.” What followed was 30 or more of the longest, scariest-ass seconds of my life. Any wrong move with the steering wheel, however slight, and we would have somersaulted hundreds of feet to the bottom of the vineyard. We might even have made the river. It’s been done before. Roger yipped at one point. I just held on to anything I could for dear life. I’m not sure about Keith. After an eternity we reached the bottom of the road and zipped up to the side door of the house. Then Dirk looked at us and said “what?”

IV: May 2008 - Palermo, Sicily

Flying into Palermo from Rome took all of 35 minutes. Unfortunately, my suitcase did not make it. Trying to make sense of that with the woman handling missing luggage was hit and miss at best. But I did show her my passport and the name of the hotel so there was a glimmer of hope.

After, I met up with a colleague and we grabbed a cab to the hotel. The cabbie nailed every stereotype of his ilk possible. He was large, completely unkempt, and given to laying on the horn, waving his fist, and screaming at any car that wasn’t going fast enough. And this was even before we got out of the parking lot. Once we got on the freeway he hit his stride. The good news was that the hotel was only 30 minutes from the airport.

By the time we got into Palermo it was rush hour. No surprise that the cabbie became all the more incensed by stopped traffic, muttering and periodically leaning out his window to verbally assault some random driver who then did likewise. When in Palermo…. But scary cab driver had one more trick up his sleeve. At some point he made a sharp left turn down a major one-way street--going the wrong way. Cabbie guy took the far-right lane, lowered his head, laid on the horn, and drove. Cars and trucks coming toward us scattered like pigeons on a playground, some ending up on the sidewalk. I had one of those moments described in the Chile incident above. There was nothing I could do and it was only a matter of seconds before this crazy moron got us all killed. But it didn’t happen. Instead he whipped a hard right turn and screeched to a halt in front our hotel. Before we could even move he was out of the car, trunk opened, and my colleague’s suitcase tossed in front of the bell stand. We got out and he immediately asked to be paid. Basta! he said with his hand out. I paid him and he got back in the cab muttering and giving me the eye. But there was a happy ending to the story. My suitcase turned up around midnight. And I had lived to be able to open it.
​
Finito

It was April 2006. I’d been in Portugal for the better part of a week with good friend and fellow MS Keith Goldston. We were guests of AMORIM, Portugal’s largest cork producer. For the past several days we had toured cork factories, seen cork forests, and sat through seminars on all things cork-related with an emphasis on TCA issues. The week also involved several great meals including numerous opportunities to taste black pig, the most delicious pork in the known universe. But now it was late afternoon on the last day. We were sitting on the beach in Porto watching a huge golden sun set over the Atlantic while sipping ice-cold Sagres beers and eating the freshest, briniest oysters I’ve ever tasted. Life was grand.

It was precisely at that moment that Maria Rosita, our guide for the week, suddenly rushed up saying she had managed to get tickets to the first ever winemaker dinner to be held that night in Porto. Further, the meal would be prepared by one of Portugal’s hottest chefs and would take place at the modern art museum. She was simply giddy at the prospect as if she had scored backstage passes to a Stones concert. 

Maria was therefore understandably shocked when we barely registered any response at all. “So let me get this straight,” I said, “you want us to leave all this to go to a winemaker dinner? Seriously?” Maria was visibly crestfallen, even offended. After all, she had been our cheerleader, biggest fan, and crazy-ass driver for the past week. Needless to say, the guilt of it all quickly sunk in and we caved in seconds. We would then go to the dinner, forsaking the Hallmark moment of sunset at the beach, oysters, and cold beer.

In less than half an hour we were at the entrance of the stark white museum exterior. Once inside we were quickly ushered to the room designated for the night’s gala event. It took just moments to realize that the venue may have worked for a museum but was a completely untenable space for any kind of catered meal. The ceilings in the “dining room” were barely ten feet high, which wasn’t exactly a problem except for the fact that everyone—except us—smoked. Constantly. Heavily. If not familiar, smoking is one of Portugal’s national sports along with football. To top it all off and complete the psycho-killer feel of the room was the fact that there weren’t any windows. What followed can only be described as a quick descent into the darkest reaches of culinary hell. But as the wise Inigo Montoya once said, “It’s too long to explain. Let me sum up.” 

To begin, the cast for the evening’s performance:

The crowd: Dozens of Porto’s top foodies, all fashionably attired were there in force eagerly awaiting the night’s event as they smoked cigarette after cigarette non-stop. 

The winemaker: Was from a small estate in the Douro Valley that produced both Port and dry wines from indigenous varieties. He resembled a short, beardless Santa Claus and was perpetually smiling as if someone had dialed up his medication for the evening. He spoke only Portuguese, which to me has always sounded like Russian pirates trying to speak Spanish. 

The winemaker’s son: Would be joining us at our table, which meant that Keith and I would actually have to behave and pay attention. The son had gone to school in New York and spoke very good English. He was a timid sort but truly excited about the evening because it was a grand opportunity to show off his family’s winery and wines. After all, it was also Porto’s first winemaker dinner and how bad could that be? The gods were just about to show us.
​
The Chef: Soon after arriving, Maria arranged for Keith and me to meet the chef.  Moments later he appeared from the kitchen in impeccably clean starched whites with his tiny assistant trailing behind. Said assistant was a short, mousy woman who looked as if she’d experienced one too many explosions at close proximity. We would soon learn why. The Chef shook our hands vigorously and, in perfect English, regaled us with tales of his recent opening of a multi-million-dollar restaurant in Rio de Janeiro. He then went on to provide his thoughts on the menu for the night’s extravaganza.

​It was about ninety seconds into the conversation when I noticed the chef’s left eye start to twitch. Odd, I thought, but really no big deal. But as he went on describing the menu and how he would, and I quote, “flout convention,” things got downright strange. His speech became increasingly punctuated with loud staccato words accompanied by jerking gestures. Several minutes in and our chef was shouting and literally spitting out words as he finished describing the dessert course. Keith and I looked on with more than a bit of concern. We weren’t quite sure what had just happened. But in watching him and then looking at his tiny cowering assistant everything suddenly became crystal clear. And the thought of this guy in a hot busy-ass kitchen working with knives also became an unsettling picture. 

Punctually at eight o’clock the proceedings began with an elegantly dressed socialite, cigarette in hand, welcoming the group and introducing the evenings’ important personalities. First the winemaker stepped up and, over the course of the next ten minutes or so, told the story of the family winery all the while mewling in sotto voce Portuguese. Every few minutes Keith and I turned to his son and asked, “What did he just he say?”  The response was something like, “he said the winery is really old,” or “the hills are very steep.” Finally, the winemaker showed both wisdom and temerity by sitting down. Next up came the chef with his assistant. Any doubts about the earlier script being repeated were quickly resolved as the chef sputtered his way through the description of the first course. The crowd, bless them all, listened with rapt attention and smoked incessantly on as if nothing was amiss.   

As the first course hit the table I remembered the chef’s phrase: “flout convention.” It was a soup course. In this case, a cream of almond soup with a texture not unlike Malt-O-Meal. But the crowning touch was a raw egg yolk floating in the center of the bowl looking for all the world like an enormous evil yellow eye. Memories of the black and white Twilight Zone commercials with the huge blinking eye quickly came to mind. All around me diners with spoons in hand pierced the evil yellow eye and tucked into the almond soup, which was remarkably salty and a stark contrast to the slimy texture of the egg yolk. To top it off, the soup was paired with an oxidized and over-oaked Douro white wine that reminded me of an unfinished bedroom set that had seen better days. I will leave it to you to imagine the combination of gloppy soup, slimy egg yolk, and oaky over-the-hill white. It was definitely not conventional. 

With each successive course the bizarre tableau repeated itself. The foodies chain-smoked as if it were their last day on earth until the smoke got so thick that one could, as they say, cut it with a chef’s knife. The winemaker would stand up and quietly mewl away for 5-10 minutes about the next wine. Finally, mercifully, he would stop talking to the smoky applause of the diners. Then the chef would reappear from the kitchen with his tiny assistant trailing behind him. As before, he would start speaking to the group with authority and conviction but within minutes start to melt down. After sputtering and barking through his description of the next course he would return to the kitchen as the audience politely applauded through the haze. To say it was all surreal is a bit of an understatement.

Between courses Keith and I would stagger outside through a side door gasping for fresh air. Any and all urges to grab the nearest cab back to the hotel were quickly thwarted by the appearance of Maria, who was concerned about our sudden absence. We complained vociferously about the cigarette smoke but there was nothing really to be done. To her credit, Maria tried to get the people around us to give the smoking a rest several times but they completely ignored her. 

The high point, the pièce de résistance, of entire evening was surely the entrée. It consisted of a large chunk of cod, a staple of the Portuguese diet, which had been pan-seared and supposedly finished in the oven. Beneath the cod was a puree of roasted pearl onions and on the side a lettuce leaf burrito looking affair filled with soggy mashed potatoes. As I went to cut into the cod for the initial bite I quickly realized that it was all but raw. In fact, it had the same texture as a piece of flesh just carved from the bone of basically any kind of dead animal. 

Accompanying the dead cod and fixings was the Brettiest, most tannic Douro red wine I’ve ever tasted. Imagine the essence of barnyard and iodine combined with a texture similar to licking the floor of a machine shop. When I first put my nose in the glass my eyes watered and I saw the color brown. At that point I looked up and across the table at Keith. He was equally stunned. We put our dinning utensils down in unison, picked up a glass of one of the other wines, and quickly slammed the remaining contents. All around us Porto’s top foodies wolfed down the raw cod and potato burrito with relish and aplomb.

The end the meal was kind of/partially/sort of saved by a delicious flourless chocolate cake prepared not by the chef but by a local caterer. It was paired with the winemaker’s vintage port which had a smoky edge due either to the wine’s age or the tainted air in our lungs.
​
Three-plus hours later we emerged from that hazy den of gastronomic disaster practically begging for another beer. Back at the hotel bar we did our best to tell Maria that it was OK. We would be just fine. After the second beer even she had to say, “Wow, that really sucked.” And so it did--but with style. 

Something often overlooked in tasting books or even tasting classes is basic instruction on how best to pick up a glass of wine and, for lack of a better term, address it. Further, the value of discovering the best angle to hold the glass and smelling techniques to get the most out of a wine’s aromas is not often emphasized enough. This post covers all that and more. I include the concept of eye positions as it relates to smelling wine, specifically the need to discover one’s starting eye position and how critical it is to becoming a consistent taster. While the subject of eye positions may be new to you, behavioral scientists have known about their importance vis a vis language patterns and sensory memory for some time. With all that, read on and discover!
 
Sometimes I think the process of smelling and tasting wine is a lot like playing golf. Both are very complex sequences that involve the use of multiple senses to process a great deal of information in the moment all to achieve a single goal. To point, addressing the golf ball consistently before making a shot in golf is probably the single most important factor for success in the game. Likewise, consistency in technique when picking up a glass to smell wine is incredibly important. I call the process “glassware stance.” Here’s a breakdown of the essential steps.  
 
The Angle of the Glass
 
Every wine glass has a “best angle” or sweet spot for smelling wine—the angle where the aromatics can be most easily perceived and recognized. To find the best angle, start by placing the glass vertically just underneath your nose and slowly tilt the glass up. Don’t go too far! You’ll inhale the wine. At some point, when the angle of the glass is between 45 and 50 degrees, the aromas of the glass will begin to “sing” and be easy to detect. It’s important to note that different kinds/shapes of glasses (Bordeaux vs. Burgundy stems) have different “best angles.” Remember to check for this every time you pick up a different glass.
 
Smelling Techniques

Practically every source on tasting I’ve ever read suggests smelling wine using several short and gentle sniffs. I completely agree. The opposite—smelling wine with one prolonged intense hoover/inhalation--is anything but effective. For one, the alcohol in the wine can quickly overwhelm your sense of smell. I call that carpal nasal. It’s also a bit awkward.

Passive vs. Active Inhalation
 
Most of the human race smells wine by placing the lip of the glass directly on the upper lip just beneath the nose, then sniffing. I call this passive inhalation as it relies almost entirely on orthonasal smelling or, technically speaking, detecting the volatile compounds (aromatics) in a wine by inhaling through the nasal passages. For the record, this doesn’t work for me. It quickly overwhelms my sense of smell. Instead, I use a technique I learned at a Cognac master class decades ago. I call it “active inhalation.”
 
When smelling wine, I pull the glass away from my face by about a half-inch, open my mouth slightly, and then breathe in (and out) gently through my mouth and nose at the same time. Why does active inhalation potentially work better? It’s due to physiology. There are two methods of smelling—ortho nasal, mentioned above, and retro-nasal, which uses both nasal and oral cavities. What I call “active inhalation” makes use of both ortho and retro-nasal smelling in tandem. It also more than doubles the physiological real estate used to smell. Will it work for you? No guarantees, but it’s definitely worth checking out. To do so, simply try the following:

1. Start with the glass resting directly underneath your nose positioned at about a 45° angle.
2. Move the glass slowly out to at least an inch away from your nose. 
   Make sure the glass is also positioned near your mouth.
3. Open your mouth about ¼ inch.
4. Smell the wine breathing gently in--and out--through your mouth and nose at the same time.
5. Test the results: are you able to smell better? Does the change make a difference at all? Try going back and forth between smelling with just your nose vs. nose and mouth together.

 
Give the active inhalation technique a try. It may—or may not—work for you. Again, no guarantees. But I think you’ll find it especially effective when smelling higher alcohol wines like Port and Sherry, as well as spirits.

Using a Consistent Starting Eye Position
 
The last piece of the glassware stance equation is perhaps the most important—and something no one ever talks about, much less teaches. As you put your nose in the glass to focus on all aromatics, you might be aware of the fact that your head and torso tend to go slightly down. You might also notice that as you reach the spot where you can smell the best, your eyes probably end up looking down in front of you either straight ahead, slightly to the left, or even slightly to the right. It’s different for everyone.
 
This may not seem important, but it’s a vital part of being consistent in starting the internal sequence of smelling wine. The relationship between eye positions and various kinds of sense memory are called “vertical and lateral eye movements” or “eye accessing cues.” I strongly believe that finding your consistent starting eye position is vitally important in becoming a professional taster. Most discover it unconsciously over time with a great deal of repetition. It would therefore seem preferable to find it sooner rather than later. Here are steps to find your starting eye position.  

1. Stand up—you’ll be able to focus much better than you can when sitting down.
2. Pick up the glass and smell the wine.
3. While smelling the wine, focus your eyes downward at a 15-20° angle above the floor and straight ahead.
4. While continuing to smell the wine, take your free hand and point to the location where your eyes are looking.
5. Now move your eyes and free hand together, slowly, from left to center to the right—all the while continuing to smell the wine.
6. Gradually find the one place that feels the most comfortable and familiar—it shouldn’t take long to locate it.
7. Once you find your “best” starting place, be sure to mark it clearly in your memory.
8. This is your starting eye position. Be sure to use it whenever beginning to smell a wine.

 
Important! Remember that it’s just your starting place. After you begin to examine a wine, your eyes will move to various locations as you analyze it. However, what’s important is that you remember to start in the same place every time. Being aware of your starting eye position is also a priceless resource when taking a tasting exam. It gives you a “reset” place when a wine is proving difficult to describe or identify. 
 
Coda
 
There are several concepts listed above. For the sake of ease and your sanity, I suggest taking them one at a time and working with them until they seem easy. If something doesn’t seem easy at first, odds are you’re doing it in a way that doesn’t work for your brain. The moment you do find the right way, your brain will let you know immediately. When that happens, make note of it and do it every time going forward. You’ll be glad you did.
 
Cheers!

​Everyone, hope you are keeping safe and well. Welcome to the holidays in a time of pandemic. Odds are you’ve done more reading this year with the quarantine thing than in previous. I know I have. And we could all use a good book right about now. Here is a list of recommendations for books I’ve read this past year. I’ve also included two books that I’m currently reading. Both are so good I had to include them. With that, read on and enjoy!

Non-Fiction

Letters from an Astrophysicist, by Neil de Grasse Tyson

A thoughtful small tome of letters written to and by famed scientist Neil de Grasse Tyson. Throughout he is a pragmatic scientist to the core, answering challenging questions from readers, critics, and even fundamentalist firebrands. His personal account of 9/11--he lived literally four blocks from ground zero--is chilling. A completely enjoyable read. And it’s a good thing we have scientists like him in this nutty world.

The Queens of Animation, by Nathalia Holt

Holt's book is a history of the women animators who worked for the Disney studio during its golden years. Of the artists chronicled, Mary Blair is the only name I knew previously. She truly was a giant among giants--Disney loved her animation. Beyond, I enjoyed making the connections between the various artists and their contributions to early Disney animated classics. Retta Scott and her work on the movie Bambi is one of many notables.  

Chaucer: A European Life, by Marion Turner

Dr. Marion Turner is Professor of English Literature at the University of Oxford, and a Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford. She specializes in medieval literature and culture, with a focus on Chaucer. Carla heard Terry Gross interview her on Fresh Air early in the year and shared it with me. I thought Turner’s enthusiasm for Chaucer, his life, and writings--especially The Canterbury Tales—was infectious. Her book is comprised of over 500 pages of incredible detail about Chaucer and English history of the time, including all the insane politics. It’s a superb read about one of the early greats of English literature. 

Tea: A Nerd's Eye View, by Virginia Utermohlen Loveland MD

Dr. Loveland is an MD by profession and a chemist. Her book is a deep dive into the world of tea, especially in regards to the chemistry of the plant and the brew itself. There’s more than a bit of science here but lots to learn and appreciate. 

The Ninth: Beethoven and the World in 1824, by Harvey Sachs

Harvey Sachs is a trained musician (piano and conducting) and a music historian. The Ninth is a heartfelt homage to the author’s lifelong obsession with Beethoven and his ninth symphony. Further, it’s an exploration into Europe post-Napoleonic war and how repressive society was at the time following the previous era of égalité and liberté. Sachs also includes short sections in the book on Byron, Pushkin, Delacroix, and the German poet Heinrich Heine, and their roles as revolutionaries in their respective arts. Perhaps the most impressive part of the book is the chapter where Sachs describes his impressions of the ninth symphony movement-by-movement, section-by-section. His text is the product of being intimately familiar with the score for several decades. I personally find it hard enough to describe a piece of music even for a few bars. Sachs succeeds in doing that on a grand scale and for one of the greatest compositions ever written. This year marks the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth. The Ninth is a timely read. 

The Art of Eating, by M.F.K. Fisher

I'd heard about M.F.K. Fisher forever but had never read any of her books. Shame on me. Earlier this year I tackled the 50th anniversary edition of her The Art of Eating. It’s a compendium containing her first five books published between 1937 and 1949: Serve it Forth, Consider the Oyster, How to Cook a Wolf, The Gastronomical Me, and An Alphabet For Gourmets. Fisher is widely considered one of the country’s greatest food writers ever. Any and all accolades are well-deserved. I found her writing to be completely engaging, capable of capturing the very essence of savoring a truffle or sipping a great bottle of wine. Her ability to effortlessly go between microscopic detail and 30K feet is remarkable. As much as anything, I enjoyed her detailed accounts of the state of food, wine, and dining between the wars and beyond. If you are remotely interested in food and wine you’ll love The Art of Eating. 

The Biggest Bluff: How I Learned to Pay Attention, Master Myself, and Win, by Maria Konnikova

Maria Konnikova has a PhD in psychology from Columbia and has written two previous books that made the Times list. In The Biggest Bluff Konnikova writes how she has always been intrigued with the role that luck and chance play in our lives. After reading a book by John von Neuman (20th century scientist) and how he took up poker to further his theories on chance, Maria decides to dedicate a year to becoming a professional poker player. What follows is one of those classic writer decides to spend a year or more trying to learn a completely different profession books. However, Biggest Bluff is well-written and by the end you care about Maria and her experiences in the underbelly of gaming and poker tournaments. There are also several passages in the book where she compares the skills needed to play poker professionally with dealing with real-life decisions. An enjoyable read.  

Anaximander, by Carlo Rovelli

This is the fourth book I've read by Italian theoretical physicist Carlo Rovelli. All have been superb. Reading his work about Anaximander of 6th century BCE Greece is to discover one of the greatest minds human kind has ever produced. A thousand years before the Renaissance, Anaximander believed that the earth floated in space, that rainfall came from the clouds formed from water evaporated by the sun, and that all living things originated from the sea. However, the most important thing we credit Anaximander was for the idea that all the phenomena of the world had natural causes--and nothing to do with a pantheon of gods and goddesses. Further, that we could learn these causes through our own thought processes and investigations. What is extraordinary is that we know practically nothing about Anaximander, the man. There are literally only a few fragmented lines that can be directly attributed to him. However, a host of the greatest Greek minds—Plato, Socrates, and the like—who would follow him in the next few centuries mentioned him often and quoted his ideas. I found Rovelli's writing to be top flight as always. In addition to Anaximander, Carlo tackles the thorny issue of god/religion vs. science head on and much more. I am a huge fan of Rovelli’s writing and books. I hope you will become one too.

Fiction

The Canterbury Tales: Penguin Edition, by Geoffrey Chaucer

The other shoe drops… I hadn’t read the Canterbury Tales since 1982, at which time I was in graduate school at the University of Michigan studying trumpet. That spring the trumpet class at school played a softball game against the brass section of the Philadelphia Orchestra, that happened to be in town for a series of concerts. My first at bat yielded a grounder up the middle. I didn’t even make it to first base. I pulled up short with what seemed to be a Charley horse in my right thigh. It turned out to be a partially torn muscle. During my three-week rehab I decided for whatever reason to read "great books." Canterbury Tales was one of them. Fast forward to last spring. After reading Turner’s biography above I picked up the Penguin edition. It’s a good translation from middle English and easy to read. The wife of Bath's prologue and tale are the best. The stereotypes of men, women, knights, scholars, and more were already well established by this early time. As much as things change…

Circe, by Madeline Miller

Madeline Miller’s book Circe seemed to be in the window of every airport bookstore I passed in the last couple of years. I finally picked it up and I’m glad I did. Circe is one of my favorite reads of the year. I knew of her story previously from reading the Odyssey, but Miller brings Circe’s character and mythology to life in a thrilling way. Highest recommendation.

Quichotte, by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie is one of the great novelists of our time. His book, Quichotte, is also one of the craziest-ass books I've read in years. The cast of characters is just this side of unbelievable. The plot quickly reveals a book-within-a-book where the differences between reality and fiction blur and completely melt down by the end. Quichotte is a thrill ride of a read. 

The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov

The Master is perhaps the most famous 20th century Russian novel. It's also surrealist with a capital S. The book had been sitting in the “to read” pile on various bookshelves for the past two years. I had read the opening chapter twice previously, putting it down both times and thinking, "this is really insane, abstruse writing." Reading the entire the book did little to change my mind. The plot is so convoluted that it’s almost impossible to describe. The cast of characters includes the devil and various evil cohorts, Pontius Pilate (that Pontius Pilate), Jesus, and a host of characters, most of them writers in 1930s Moscow. I have never read a book quite like it. Odds are you will find it the same. 

Squeeze Me, by Carl Hiaasen

Squeeze Me is Carl Hiaasen’s latest. Like all Hiaasen’s works, it takes place in South Florida. The plot is a thinly veiled slice of political life from this past year. It features the president, Mastodon, and his wife Hummingbird. A host of giant Burmese Pythons, some over 20' long, play a major role. The first of these giant snakes we encounter in the book’s opening pages swallows an 80-pound elderly matron, who's passed out on the lawn of a chichi resort after one too many Tito's martinis and half a Xanax. As with any Hiaasen book the plot is just beyond credible and the characters even more tweaked. The book concludes with a madcap finale starring Mastodon who's just been nuked in a malfunctioning tanning bed and dozens of huge said pythons that have been set loose during a political rally. In other words, it's vintage Hiaasen. And that’s a wonderful thing.

My Favorite Read of the Year 

The Sandman, by Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman is my favorite fiction writer—and one of my very favorite writers of any ilk. I’ve read all his works save one: The Sandman. Certain factions of the author’s minions rave about it, saying that nothing else he’s written comes close. The Sandman is series of 14 graphic novels, most written between 1989 and 1996. I have never previously read any graphic novels, hence my hesitation at tackling the series. The story of The Sandman centers around “Dream,” or Morpheus, the king of dreams, and his siblings called the “Endless.” Gaiman draws from a myriad of religions, legends, mythologies, and tales. He also teamed up with a who’s-who of graphic novel artists using a different illustrator for each volume. No surprise that the art is simply amazing—at times beyond description. Gaiman’s storytelling, even for his first serious writing efforts, is extraordinary. By the time I finished the second volume I was hooked. Finishing the last volume of The Sandman reminded me of finishing Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy for the first time. Yes, The Sandman is that good—but it couldn’t possibly be more different.
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Important note: you should know that finding the entire series is not exactly easy. I opted for the simple but very expensive way by buying Marvel's new 30th anniversary edition just released in October. I plan to reread the entire set in the first quarter of next year. I’m really looking forward to it. 

Two Books I’m Currently Reading

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of Plants, by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Last year during a conversation a colleague raved about a book he had just finished called Braiding Sweetgrass. I ordered it on the spot and after it arrived it sat in my “to read” stack for months. Earlier this week a good friend mentioned it in an online post saying the book was life-changing and the author an incredibly gifted teacher. Quickly the book moved to the “next read” slot. I’m now half the way through it. Braiding Sweetgrass is everything advertised and more. Robin Wall Kimmerer is a mother, scientist, professor, and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. She lives in Syracuse, New York, where she is a SUNY Distinguished Teaching Professor of Environmental Biology, and the founder and director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment. Kimmerer is that rare teacher/writer who artfully blends scientific knowledge, indigenous story, and wisdom about the natural world. I’m taking my time with this first read and savoring each chapter. Highest recommendation. 

Nose Dive: A Field Guide to the World’s Smells, by Harold McGee

Lest you think I’m not reading wine books or wine-related books… Harold McGee is an awarding-winning food/food science writer based in San Francisco. His latest book, Nose Dive, is a masterpiece. That’s no hyperbole. The book was 15 years in the making and has been called the ultimate guide to all things olfactory. I’ll add my two cents in that it’s a very deep dive into families of aromatics with descriptions and chemical breakdowns. The text could easily have been impossibly technical but McGee’s skillful writing makes the complex easily understandable. No doubt Nose Dive will be a reference work for many years to come. Bravo, Harold! 

Hola from New Mexico. I hope everyone is keeping safe and well. Welcome to the lockdown version of the holidays. We may be huddling in our bunkers with immediate family or roommates, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a delicious bottle of vino or two with our holiday victuals.

As for pairing wine with the traditional holiday meal, it’s no big deal and certainly not rocket science. The sweet-savory-earthy combination of flavors of the holiday meal make it ideal—even forgiving--for practically any style of wine with few exceptions. Those exceptions are monumentally over-oaked Chardonnay or astringently tannic red wines like Cabernet Sauvignon. Remember that oak and tannin are the least flexible elements in wine when it comes to pairing with food. Having said that, I must also remind you that the X-factor in any wine experience is one’s personal preference. So if oaky Chardonnay or tannic Cabernet is your thing, by all means go for it.

What wines work best with the holiday meal? Practically any other style than those just mentioned. Look for unoaked, higher acid white wines, and medium-to-full bodied reds that aren’t too oaky or tannic. Piece of cake. No, make that pie. One last morsel of wisdom: residual sugar in white wine is extra primo good with the holiday meal because so many of the dishes also have a sweet element in them. Remember, sweet needs sweet when it comes to food and wine pairing.
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Quick note: If you can’t find one of the wines listed below locally, use winesearcher.com. It should bring up multiple sources for most—if not all—the wines on the list. Now it’s time to read on and assemble your holiday vino-shopping list.

Sparkling Wine and Champagne

Now more than ever it’s comforting to know that good bubbly is affordable. And we all need to drink more of it regularly.

NV Sorelle Bronca "Particella 68," Prosecco Superiore Brut: This is not the cheap stuff case-stacked to the rafters at Trader Joe’s. It’s the real deal, as in Prosecco Superiore DOCG (vs. simple Prosecco DOC wines). Sorrella is a small family owned estate in the town of Valdobiaddene. The Particella 68 Brut is produced in small quantities from a single vineyard planted on an impossibly steep hillside. Prosecco like this is the essence of Vivaldi in a bottle.

NV Ca' del Bosco Cuvée Prestige Brut, Franciacorta: Gets my vote for best overall value in sparkling wine. The wine is vibrant, earthy, and delicious. The package is simply gorgeous and the price is right. What’s not to love?

NV Pierre Peters Cuvée de Reserve, Blanc de Blancs: One of the first grower-producer Champagnes I tasted over 20 years ago—and still one of my favorites. The Pierre Peters is a true blanc de blancs from 100% Chardonnay. It’s lacy, steely, and laser-like on the palate. In short, quintessential aperitif Champagne.
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NV Alfred Gratien Rosé Brut: Like Krug and Bollinger, Alfred Gratien uses wood for primary fermentation to lend a rounded texture to the finished wine. That aside, there is no better value for rosé Champagne than the non-vintage Gratien. Period. I’m flummoxed why it’s not better known and appreciated.

White Wine

My list of holiday whites generally follows the theme of high acid, non-oaked wines from semi-aromatic grapes. There’s also a Chardonnay recommendation, plenty of Riesling, and an otherworldly Gewürztraminer.

Clelia Romano Fiano di Avellino, Colli di Lapio: I first bought Clelia Romano’s Fiano while a buyer at Virtual Vineyards over 20 years ago at the dawn of online time and retail cyber space. It remains one of my very favorite Italian whites with its lovely white floral, pear/quince, and tart citrus notes framed by intense minerality.

Cantina Terlano Pinot Bianco Riserva, "Vorberg," Alto Adige: Pinot Bianco, aka Pinot Blanc, practically always underachieves in a major way. Not so here. Terlano gets my vote for best white wine producer in Italy and their Vorberg is easily one of the greatest wines made from the grape. The vineyard is located on a steep alpine slope with sandy, porphyry-gravel soils. The wine is dense (dry extract) and concentrated with lots of acid lift.

Domaine Sigalas Assyrtiko, Santorini: Do you really need another reason to visit the magnificent island of Santorini? The Sigalas Assyrtiko is one of my favorite whites from anywhere. Rich and opulent but with racy acidity and insane volcanic minerality.

Domaine Huet Vouvray, Le Mont Sec: Huet’s Le Mont Sec could be the perfect white wine for turkey and all the trimmings. It’s also my favorite Vouvray by far; opulent, layered, and mineral-driven. If you haven’t tried it, you must.

Yalumba Viognier "The Virgilius," Eden Valley: A lot of New World Viognier is reminiscent of the Fat Elvis phase—as in awkward and a bit trashy. Not so here. Winemaker Louisa Rose of Yalumba is a master of Viognier. She makes three different bottlings from the grape and the top cuvée is called The Virgilius. It’s shimmering, perfumed, and elegant.

Domaine Weinbach Gewurztraminer, Cuvée Théo: Domaine Weinbach is one of the top estates in Alsace. Their Cuvée Théo is sourced from the oldest vines in the Clos du Capuchins vineyard. A quick whiff of the glass reveals an astonishing array of floral, lychee, spicy exotic fruit, and truffle-earth. In short, it’s a wow. 

Emmerich Knoll Grüner Veltliner Smaragd Loibenberg: Emmerich Knoll is one of the Austria’s top winemakers. Grüner Veltliner is the country’s premier white grape, and Smaragd its richest version—a classification only used in the Wachau, the country’s smallest quality wine region. Smaragd wines are completely decadent with honey, ginger, and saffron from botrytis combined with the pepper, daikon, and botanical notes that make Grüner Veltliner so unique. Knoll’s Smaragd Loibenberg is not exactly easy to find and it’s not inexpensive. But try it you must.  

Mount Eden Estate Chardonnay: A Chardonnay recommendation before all the Rieslings. Mount Eden’s Estate has always been my favorite California Chardonnay. Steep Santa Cruz Mountains hillside vineyards planted with Burgundian clones make for one of the most unique places for the grape in the New World. Winemaker Jeffrey Patterson always keeps balance in mind so the use of oak is never excessive. His wines are also among the few California Chardonnays capable of long-term aging. I’ve tasted 25-year-old bottles that were mature and yet fresh.

Riesling

Half my cellar (which sadly is still a thousand miles away in Oakland, CA), is German Riesling. Most of that is Spätlese-level (late harvest) as in slightly sweet. Why? Because Spätlese Riesling is the most versatile and delicious food white wine there is. I can’t think of a better white for the holiday table. Following is a short list of some of my favorite producers and vineyards with Spätlese specifically in mind.

Egon Müller Scharzhofberg: Weightless, shimmering elegance, and filigree. It’s expensive (and should be).

Dönnhoff Niederhäuser Hermannshöhle: Many believe Helmut Dönnhoff and his son Cornelius to be Germany’s top winemakers. I find it hard to disagree. The Hermannshöhle makes for sumptuous, layered, fruity wines as well as brilliant dry Grosse Lage bottlings. Not easy to find, but can be temporarily life-changing.

Robert Weil Kiedricher Gräfenberg: One of the Rheingau’s (and Germany’s) top estates—and greatest vineyards. The wines are incredibly focused, concentrated, and weightless. Utterly delectable.

Rheinhold Haart Piesporter Goldtröpchen: Theo Haart’s Rieslings from the great Goldtröpchen vineyard are easily the best in Piesport. The wines are honeyed, sumptuous, and racy. 

J.J. Prüm Wehlener Sonnenuhr: The Prüm wines have a distinct terroir, great precision, and ethereal filigree. The Wehlener Sonnenuhr vineyard has been cultivated without interruption for the better part of the last 2,000 years.
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Gunderloch Nackenheimer Rothenberg: I’m still sad about the passing of owner-winemaker and friend Fritz Hasselbach in the fall of 2016. His Rieslings from the Rothenberg vineyard were always opulent and shamelessly hedonistic. Fritz may be gone, but the family’s outstanding wines from the Rothenberg are still with us.

Rosé

Dry rosé is perfect with the holiday dinner, especially roast turkey which a colleague once described as, “chicken with attitude.” Here is a trio of favorite pink wines.

Domaine de Fontsainte Corbières Rosé, Gris de Gris: A delicious Southern French saignée rosé made from a blend of Grenache Gris, Grenache Noir, and Carignan. Saignée, BTW, refers to the traditional method of separating part of the juice from a red wine fermentation and making rosé from it. I’m convinced that we are all better for it.

Robert Sinskey Vin Gris of Pinot Noir: Many pink wines are cast-offs or after thoughts intended to generate quick cash flow. Not the Sinskey Vin Gris. The fruit comes from prime Pinot Noir real estate. The grapes are whole cluster pressed and only the free run juice is used. The result is dry, delicate, and delightful.

Tasca d'Almerita Tenuta Regaleali, Le Rose, Rosato: Sicily is one of my favorite places in the wine world. Tenuta Regaleali is a gorgeous estate located in the mountains an hour from Palermo. The estate has been owned by the Tasca d’Almerita family since 1837, and is known for superb wines and an internationally recognized cooking school. This vibrant rosato is made from Nerello Mascalese grapes planted in 1974. It offers tart youthful red fruit with a touch of volcanic minerality.

Red Wine

In choosing reds, I’ve kept in mind the fact that some may opt for lamb, beef, or venison instead of the usual roast turkey. Thus, you’ll find both lighter and richer reds below.

Gary Farrell Pinot Noir, Hallberg Vineyard, Russian River Valley: Pinot Noir is a universal go-to red wine this time of year, and for good reason: its bright fruit and silky tannins make it an ideal mate for Thanksgiving dinner and beyond. Winemaker Theresa Heredia of Gary Farrell is one of my favorites for Russian River Pinot. Her wines always show wonderful depth and spice character.

Roberto Voerzio Barbera d’Alba, "Il Cerreto": Barbera is not exactly a wine that comes to mind with Thanksgiving dinner--but it should. Roberto Voerzio is one of the top producers in Barolo. His Barberas are also legendary. The “Il Cerreto” is crammed with luscious fruit, savory herbal notes, and tart acidity.

La Rioja Alta Viña Ardanza Reserva: La Rioja Alta is one of my favorite old-school Rioja producers. Their Viña Ardanza Reserva spends three years in American oak casks, giving the wine an overt Bourbon-spiciness with a supple texture and distinct earthiness.

Yalumba "The Signature," Shiraz-Cabernet Sauvignon: Shiraz-Cabernet blends from Australia are one of the world’s best-kept red wine secrets. Yalumba’s The Signature is a perfect marriage between the spice and savory elements of Shiraz and the structure of Cabernet. It’s also one of my favorite reds for the money.

Henschke "Keynetone Euphonium," Shiraz-Cabernet, Eden Valley: A visit some years ago to the Henschke winery in Eden Valley was one of the greatest single producer tastings I’ve ever experienced. The major take away was that no one does red wine texture and tannin management better than Steven Henschke. As expected, the Hill of Grace Shiraz was world-class. But I especially remember the Keynetone Euphonium, a Shiraz-Cabernet blend. It was lush, seamless, and imminently drinkable.
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Storybook Mountain Reserve Zinfandel: Jerry Seps is a founder of ZAP (Zinfandel Advocates and Producers) and one of the patriarchs of the grape. His reserve bottling—a selection of the best barrels in a given vintage--is easily my favorite Zinfandel. It shows the lush—just this side of frat party--fruit we expect from Zin but in the most elegant and stylish expression possible. 

Dessert Wine

There’s only one rule that needs to be followed when pairing dessert wines with holiday desserts: The wine must always be sweeter than the dessert. Here are three very different stickies, all perfect for holiday desserts.

Donnafugata Ben Ryé: made on the windswept volcanic island of Pantelleria from dried Muscat grapes locally called “Zbibbo.” Ben Ryé, which means “song of the wind” in Arabic, manages to be seductive without being cloying. It’s also one of the great values in dessert wines.

Niepoort Colheita Port: More often than not, aged tawny ports show declarations of 10, 20, 30, even 40 years on the label. A Colheita, or vintage Tawny, is a rarity and Niepoort specializes in them. The 1995 vintage I tasted recently is drinking beautifully with notes of toffee, roasted nuts, caramel, and molasses. Pumpkin pie, anyone?

Château Coutet à Barsac: Barsac is a neighbor to the higher rent Sauternes district and also produces botrytis sweet wines. Coutet is one of my favorite chateaux there. The wine always delivers unctuous honey and exotic spice flavors.

Coda: Support Your Local Independent Retailers

I hope you’ve found some holiday vino ideas from the list. Remember that any of the wines would make a thoughtful holiday gift. In fact, you should pick up several bottles for yourself. Otherwise, one final thing I want to suggest is that you support your local independent retailers whenever you can. Since the shelter in place began in March, I’ve made it a point to order from several independent shops owned by friends and colleagues. I’ve listed them below. I hope you will consider doing likewise with the retailers listed or ones in your local market. Cheers!
 
Boulder Wine Merchant, Boulder, CO: owner Brett Zimmerman, MS
https://www.boulderwine.com
(303) 443-6761
 
Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant, San Francisco, CA: owners Peter Granoff, MS, and Debbie Zacharias
https://fpwm.com
(415) 391-9400
 
San Francisco Wine Trading Company, San Francisco, CA: owners Gary and Julia Marcaletti
https://www.sfwtc.com
(415) 731-6222
 
The Wine Goddess, Evanston, IL: owner Diana Hamann
https://www.winegoddess.com
(847) 475-9463

There is no faking it. As professionals we are judged by how well we do it. It separates the novice from the professional, and it’s the unwritten--even unspoken--goal of any wine training. What is this mysterious coin of the realm? Simple: judging wine quality.

When hired for most jobs in the industry, this is what we are being employed to do. Whether it’s buying for a three-star Michelin restaurant wine list or choosing the best currently available sub-ten-dollar Merlots for a supermarket, we as professionals are being paid to taste wine and judge quality.

What determines quality in wine? What are the criteria for judging it? How does one develop the experience necessary to be able to competently judge wine quality? Following are some answers to all the above.   

Wine Quality Defined

Judging wine quality is comprised of several basic but important factors: balance, typicity, context, and previous experience. Here’s how they break down.

Balance

If the wine displays harmony among all its elements, it’s said to be balanced. Most of these elements have to do with a wine’s structure, as in the levels of alcohol, acid, phenolic bitterness, and tannin. If one or more sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb, the wine isn’t balanced and probably lacking in quality. For example, if a wine is over ripe and lacks acidity, it’s poorly balanced and lacks quality. Likewise, if a wine is too tannic or oaky, it’s also not well-balanced and probably—but not always--of lesser quality. More about that in a moment.

Fruit plays an important role in balance as far as matching the level of acidity. For practically any white or pink wine (and for many minimally oaked or unoaked red wines) the fruit and acid must be balanced for the wine to be of any quality.  

A good example of fruit-acid balance in white wine comes from a memory of a tasting some years ago. In 2002 I was in in Germany with a group of MS colleagues. On the last morning of the trip we met at Weingut Franz Künstler in the Rheingau. If not familiar, winemaker Günter Künstler is one of the best in the Rheingau—and in Germany for that matter. He’s one of the few that makes both brilliant dry wines and fruity-styled wines with residual sugar. His noble sweet wines are also off the chart. Günter’s winery and vineyards lie at the eastern edge of the Rheingau in the village of Hochheim.

The tasting was amazing. Günter opened over 40 bottles for us in the form of five-year verticals of some of his best wines both dry and sweet. The wine of the visit for me was the 2001 Hochheimer Kirchenstück Spätlese Riesling. The wine had extraordinary intensity and depth, and the balance between the succulent sweet-tart fruit and high acidity was like a razor’s edge. It was just about perfect. The wine is still etched in my memory. I have since judged every non-Mosel Spätlese against it either consciously or unconsciously.
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One last note about balance. Context, which is discussed below, comes into play in that some wines of high quality aren’t balanced when young. Others, like Nebbiolo-based Barolo with its high tannin and high acidity, will never be balanced but can be outstanding--even world-class--in quality. 

Typicity

Typicity is a deceptively simple concept: That a wine should look, smell, and taste like a good example of its grape and origin. There are many factors that make a wine typical.

Color: Is the wine too light in color? Too deep in color? A young, un-oaked white wine should be pale straw in color vs. an older or oaked wine that’s yellow or even gold.

Aromatics: Lots of factors here including the ripeness and quality of the fruit, the presence or lack of important non-fruit markers (many of which are impact compounds or important varietal aromas and flavors), the presence of earth/mineral, and the use of oak. As I said, lots of factors.
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Purity of fruit: Regardless of price point, grape, or origin, a quality wine to me has a purity of fruit that is easy to recognize. Be it apple, lime, or whatever, the fruit in a wine of any quality always sings through the other aromatics and is easily identifiable.

Palate: Does the wine show appropriate fruit ripeness and structure levels? Or is it underripe, possibly meaning early harvesting or a cooler than usual vintage? A ripe or over-ripe wine signifies the opposite: late harvesting or a warmer than usual vintage. Connecting the dots between fruit quality/character and structure is also important. Finally, the length of the finish speaks to quality. The phrase “the longer the finish the better quality the wine” may be trite but there is something to a wine having length and persistence that is directly related to quality.

Complexity: Quality wines will often—but not always--show a good deal of complexity on nose and palate. Here I’m defining complexity in regards to the number of aromas and flavors in a wine combined with how much it evolves on the palate. However, complexity is not always so straightforward. Some wines don’t show complexity when young and only develop it over time with age. Other commercially-produced wines won’t ever show a good deal of complexity, but still show balance and typicity which can account for quality.  

In thinking about typicity, not long ago I tasted a Pouilly Fumé from the 2018 vintage. The first impression on the nose was of ripe, almost exotic fruit and a complete lack of the green quality (pyrazines) that’s an important marker for any Sauvignon Blanc-based wine. On the palate the wine lacked acidity and was clumsy. It could have been a Central Coast Chardonnay.

Why was the wine so different? Simple answer: the vintage. 2018 was a warmer than average year for the Central Vineyards in the Loire, hence the wine was far riper than usual with higher alcohol and markedly less acidity. However, was the wine still of quality? The answer was yes, but with a caveat: it was a well-made wine from a warm year but lacked important variety markers and therefore was atypical.

The opposite could also be true. Imagine a Cabernet Sauvignon from a well-known region from a cooler vintage. The wine could be lighter in color, red-fruit dominant, and have a pronounced green pyrazinic character. Not exactly typical, but the wine could still be balanced and the quality good.

Context

As with everything in wine, context is a huge factor when judging quality. It comes into play in any tasting experience in the form of the tasting environment, the taster, and the wine itself. Here are a few examples of how context can potentially impact judging quality when tasting.

The tasting environment: Including appropriate lighting, a good ambient temperature, lack of extraneous noise and odors, and good glassware.

The wine: Appropriate tasting temperature and free from faults. Also, the proper tasting order of wines i.e., tasting whites before reds, dry wines before sweet wines, and less tannic reds before tannic reds.

The taster: Taster, know theyself! Here I’m referring to the individual knowing their personal sensitivities to structural elements (i.e., high tannin) as well as being aware of personal likes, dislikes, and even biases. For example, someone may have a strong dislike for new oak in white wine. When asked to select high-end California Chardonnays for a restaurant list, they must be able to set personal bias aside and judge the wines in front of them for quality regardless of oak usage. Another example would be someone who considers the presence of Brettanomyces in any amount to be a fault. If they’re asked to taste through current releases of high-end Northern Rhône Syrah, they would need to be able put aside their Brett aversion to be able to do a credible job of selecting the best wines.
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Finally, wine price tier also figures into context. Is the wine a mass-produced commercial Chardonnay or a domain-bottled White Burgundy? Ultimately, it shouldn’t matter. A professional needs to have a frame of reference for both and to be able to judge quality without bias. 

Previous Experience

This is the one piece of the judging quality equation that cannot be hacked or faked. Previous experience is absolutely required to be able to judge quality. Knowing how typical examples of classic grapes and wines are supposed to look, smell, and taste can only be gained through a great deal of tasting experience. Add to that knowledge of vintage variations and specific producers whose wines are atypical but still of high quality.

Yes, it’s complicated. But after all, who said tasting was easy? To be any good at it one has to taste a lot of wine over a long duration of time. That brings up the question of how can one get the needed experience in order to be able to judge wine quality—regardless of type—at a professional level. Here are some suggestions:

• Taste with a group of other professionals regularly. Other palates and opinions can only expand your tasting universe.
• This may seem obvious, but taste good examples of classic grapes and wines regularly. Initially, don’t waste time tasting atypical wines.
• Mix blind tasting with non-blind tasting. Looking at labels when tasting helps make important memory connections.
• Go to as many trade events as you can—especially those that focus on top producers from a classic region or a consortium of top producers. Taste carefully, listen, and take copious notes. Then read your notes later and try to remember the best wines from that particular tasting in as much detail as possible. Do this a couple of times in the following 24-48 hours after the tasting.
• Take a class on wine faults. It will prove invaluable. Also read up on wine faults and be able to explain why so many of them are contextual.
• Periodically taste lower tier mass-produced commercial wines so you have a clue about them. This includes White Zinfandel and box wines. Don’t lose touch with these wines because at some point in your career you’ll have to deal with them. Tasting these wines on a semi-regular basis will help you establish--and maintain--a frame of reference of how good examples in the category should taste. I also recommend tasting commercial and domain wines next to each from time to time. Carefully analyze what defines quality in each category.

Ultimately your goal is to be able to pick up a glass of wine regardless of the environment or distractions (as in, all hell breaking loose around you) and be able to quickly and completely assess it, provide an opinion about the wine’s quality, and be able to explain it. The total analysis may only take 30-45 seconds, but years of previous experience are required to be able to make the right call. This doesn’t happen overnight. It happens one glass at a time.