(click on picture to enlarge)
When [S] called me in a frenzy of excitement this morning to tell me that she has won tickets to a wine tasting evening at a well-known restaurant in Rivonia, I groaned loudly.
“Oh honey, can’t you donate the tickets to someone who cares about that kind of thing?” [Silence] Needless to say I did not score any points in that intricate game of relationship etiquette.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a bit of culture as much as the next person, but being a bit of a “boykie” who grew up in the southern suburbs of Cape Town, wine-tasting does not exactly feature high on my list of things I would rather be doing with my free time. My idea of stepping out of my comfort zone is having fancy cocktails with unpronounceable names in an upmarket pub.
I have only been to one wine tasting many years ago. It took me less than five minutes to realise that I did not belong. Even back then the main attraction was the prospect of drinking large quantities of wine (which did not materialise) and not having to pay for it.
What does fascinate me about these evenings is the elaborate rituals and terminology used by wine experts when they’re telling us what to drink and why.
First we had to learn the basics of wine tasting. We were taught how to pick up a glass, delicately, holding the base of the glass between the thumb and the first two fingers and not as I tend to do, with a nonchalant grab.
Next, you have to learn how to swirl with small circular movements of your hand to let the air in and allow the wine to breathe, which quite frankly looked faintly ridiculous to me. Picture the Queen waving to the crowd from the balcony at Buckingham palace with a glass in her hand.
We were shown how to hold our glasses up to the light and appreciate the subtleties of colour in our wine. We applied noses to our glasses, breathing in the bouquet. We took delicate mouthfuls, swirled it around on our tongues and then spat them out (what a waste). By that time I was ready for a large Scotch, but it was not to be.
The rest of the lesson was more like a lesson in anatomy. We were told that wine had a nose, body and legs. Wine had a robe, a bouquet, a personality, an essence.
And if that was not enough, it was also required of one to describe what you had just tasted. So, as we dutifully sipped and spat, the wine expert provided a running commentary on the wines under review.
The first wine was velvety and bold, even a little bosomy. The second, earthy, but generous, with hint of black pepper (how is a hint generous?). The descriptions became more and more bizarre – vanilla, oak, grass, truffles, hyacinths, violet, sun-ripened strawberries, liquorice, vetiver, potpourri, galbanum, vintage leather, wet dogs, skunks, baby vomit, cat pee an old gym socks. Asparagus?
What surprised me most is that there was never a mention of the main ingredient. Grapes. Apparently they are not considered exotic enough to gain a place in the wine-lover’s vocabulary.
Over the years, I have avoided wine tasting like the plague. Not that I have many opportunities to go to these things. What with me being a mere suburban nine-to-fiver and all.
I know when I’m out of my depth. I’d much rather head for the nearest bar, hunch my shoulders in concentration, and raise my eyes to heaven over an ice cold beer.
I am a cultural wasteland. [Cue the tumbleweed.]
Culture vulture
April 26, 2007 by chitty
Wine tasting amounts to pretty much the same thing as playing a round of Balderdash, IMHO.
I always thought “wine tasting” was when you overdid it the night before on Tas, and then proceed to pass it over the pallet into the porcelain bowl the next morning… Odd.
You sound like the Top Gear bloke who is in a wine tasting programme on BBC Food at the moment. (original broadcast at 20h30 Fri – repaet on Sat I think).
He’s touring Frnace with a wine snob and it’s hilarious.
I only recently began admitting openly that I don’t like wine. At all. Never have.
{GASP!}
I’ll drink rosé with a meal out in a restaurant but apart from that, no thanks.
I think I’ll join you for a beer instead – I hate asparagus, anyway.
Oh you sound like you have been ‘Jilly Goolden’d’. (google her) She is this woman in th UK, who does that kind of mess when it comes to wine tasting. When she tastes a wine she likes you can see her almost cum in her knickers!! The noises she makes over a glass of wine, I bet her vibrator is shaped like a wine glass 🙂
I’m with you and Terri. My encounters with wine have not all been favourable and although I do enjoy a good Rose over a meal, I am not a winer. I’m more into ciders. The stuff you are supposed to be able to drink lots of before showing signs of intoxication but people tend to forget that they actually contain more alcohol than beer. There is a new one on the market called Sarita and that is my drink of choice for now.
Chitty, been there done that, fitted in like a big square peg in a tiny little round hole.
I got the distinct impression as soon as I walked in I wasn’t wanted. So I made fun of them as the evening progressed. One answer from me to the question “what can you detect?” was “umm, wine?”. I guess I should have said something like “Ahhh, magnolia blossom in the morning sun on a new spring day” or something…. What a load of old cobblers if you ask me.
However, I did manage to steal 2 bottles of wine though. 🙂
Ooops, I’m a cultural wasteland too. My wine comes out of a box. But then I have a good excuse. I live on a farm so I have to buy in bulk… and drink in bulk. 😀
KN: In this game of balderdash,there are more misses than actual hits.
jeanpant: He heh. Good old Tassies. I remember it fondly.
IITQ: Haven’t been able to catch it on tele. I’ll put a reminder on my program guide.
Terri: Gasp, indeed. I still drink wine, although the only wine I really have a taste for these days is Shiraz. As or all the subtleties of the aroma & bouquet, I couldn’t give a damn.
sugar: Ha ha… it is people liker her who scare away ordinary folks and contribute to the decline in the wine industry. I bet she does not have many friends.
Buddess: I’ve seen that drink in store. Women love it!
Kev: I hope the two bottles you stole were really expensive! I’m like you mate, I don’t have to know the nitty gritty and intimate details of a bottle of wine to enjoy it.
Katt: When I was younger we used to refer to those wines that come in boxes as a “satchel”. (Don’t quite know where that word came from).
If memory serves me correctly… you were the one drinking Chardonnay with a mate in a previous post. Yes/ No/ Maybe?
In any case, how ‘cultured’ can wine tasting really be?
A. you sip wine,
B. gargle it…
C. then spit it out.
Champaign tasting – now that’s civilised (well, at least for the first 5 glasses). Anyone for some Veuve Clicquot?
Chitty,
Going rate for my steal was >GBP25 per bottle.
The staff should have kept a closer eye!
🙂
Corning made wine glasses seem to be the best! they are tough and have great designs .