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LESSONS ON HOW
TO BE A WINE SNOB
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I hate wine tasting. I don't like drinking alcohol during the
day, mainly because it doesn't give me anything to look forward to at night.
And while I enjoy wine as much as anyone, I have no clue as to the reason
why, and I really don't care.
So when some friends invited us to a two day wine tasting
extravaganza in Paso Robles, California, which is about a 3 1/2 hour drive
down Highway 101 from San Francisco, in the heart of the Central Valley, I
was a little hesitant.
I'm nothing if not curious, though, and I'd never spent more
than six minutes in Paso Robles, and that was because I needed gas. So off
we went last weekend to join three other couples for a wine tasting
adventure.
Wine snobs are already probably rolling their eyes. Why not the
Napa Valley, they might ask, where some of the most famous wineries in the
world are located? Paso Robles, neighbor to King City, in the middle of
nowhere? What kind of quality wines could be found there?
The answer, of course, is that I have no clue. But I love the
way they market the area as "the wild west of California wine."
It's an appropriate moniker, considering the town was founded by the
notorious outlaws Frank and Jesse James' Uncle Drury around 1869.
Surprisingly, at least to me, it's a stunningly beautiful area
and is home to over 200 wineries, up from only 20 a couple of decades ago.
The Napa Valley has about 400 wineries. Paso Robles is clearly an area on
the rise.
That's enough from the Paso Robles marketing department, though. What I
really want to discuss is the difference between wine snobs and wine
Neanderthals, like me.
Since we were going to be wine tasting for two days, I decided
to do a little research. I wanted to see if I could compete with some of the
snobs, including a couple of our friends.
I Googled "Wine Snobs," and, sure enough, there is a
book called "The Wine Snob's Dictionary." It sounded like the
perfect research vehicle to absorb and then impress my friends. But when I
realized it was 121 pages, I quickly rejected it. If that was the dictionary
of wine terms, I shudder to think of what the Encyclopedia would look like.
Instead, I found a quick glossary of the most popular terms,
and I printed it out and stuck it in my pocket. It was the perfect cheat
sheet.
The first wine we tasted was a blend of Sauvignon Blanc and
Chardonnay, which I never knew you could mix. "Hmm," I announced
after I swirled, sniffed and tasted. "Excellent acidity, very angular
and austere."
"You should have looked past the 'A's' on your cheat
sheet," announced my wife, blowing my cover. "I think angular and
austere means it tastes like crap."
"Whatever," I replied, as the wine pourer looked at
me with horror. "It sounded like I knew what I was talking about."
When the Cabernet Sauvignon came out, I was better prepared.
"Hmm," I soothed after swirling it around. "Excellent
legs." Then I sniffed it. "Hmm," I reported. "I smell
red wine."
"You're quite the sommelier," said one of our
friends. "How did you deduce that?"
I then reported that I was ahead of the game. A few years ago a
researcher gave 54 oenology (the study of wine) students a glass of white
wine with tasteless red food coloring. After tasting, the students described
it as "raspberry," "cherry," "cedar," and
"chicory," all of which describes a red wine. They were fooled,
but not me.
I then took a sip and swallowed, maybe a bit too eagerly.
"Hmm," I announced to anyone bored enough to listen. "Very
buttery and complex, with a dense, earthy flavor and a hint of tannin and
maybe a little oakey. It has good structure, but its finish is a little fat
and fleshy."
"Huh?" said someone.
"It means I find it intellectually satisfying," I
continued, not bothering to hide my notes. "Robert Parker, who is
probably the most famous wine critic in the world, says that if you are not
satisfied by this wine on a hedonistic and intellectual level then you don't
deserve to drink it."
That silenced everyone. At least until my wife spoke up. "As a newly
certified wine snob, why don't you tell everyone your theory for buying
wines at a restaurant?"
"You mean choosing the second cheapest?" I replied,
tossing my notes in the garbage. "Yeah, that works, too."
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