Wine Snobs & Winos
My name is Mike. I am a Wino.
Webster's defines "wino" as someone addicted to wine. It also has the word "derelict" in there somewhere, but I'll take poetic license with my definition. To paraphrase JT, I'm bringin' wino back!
I think the difference between a wino and a wine snob comes down to intent. Both are crazed aficionados of the juice, but one would just assume drink & enjoy the stuff without the requisite pretentious jargon and ritual. The snob will measure him or herself with how many cult Cabernets they've consumed, or which obscure sub appellation in the Old World they can throw on the table. The wino will smile knowingly (is he questioning my fanhood?). The wino knows that it's the sucker who buys into only what the magazines and critics of the world have to say. Because there are far more interesting stories and bottles between the lines. Isn't it more fun & rewarding to rate your own wines?
Wine is such a beautiful thing. It's natural, after-all. Grapes left to die on the vine will become fermented with the natural yeasts that develop on the berries. Yet, there is some belief out there that holds certain winemakers in such reverence truly due to artists and thinkers. Yikes! That almost sounded a bit snobby. Therein lies the difficult line one has to walk in the wine world. You want to appreciate it, and debate about it, but in the end, it's all about how the wine smells -- how it tastes -- and how it feels in your mouth. And everyone can do that. Nobody is born with some kind of bionic palate. Nor is anyone born with a full understanding of the growth classification system in Burgundy or Bordeaux. But, it doesn't matter. Those facts are out there to study if that's your thing, but you certainly don't need to bore yourself with it to understand and appreciate wine.
To be a true lover of wine, all you have to do is drink. The more often you drink, and the more you vary what you drink, the more you'll understand your palate and whether you'll likely adore a new wine or not before even drinking it. And, if you keep some kind of journal after your wine adventures then you'll quickly zero in on what makes your soul feel warm & fuzzy!
That's the kind of power and liberation that I want for all wine lovers. When you truly understand that it's the grape varietal and where it's grown that matters, you'll unlock all of the power to rarely be disappointed with wine.
We Americans are at a supreme disadvantage to this theme. We are bred by Madison Avenue to think of everything as a brand. Coke is a brand. Apple is a brand. Robert Mondavi is not a brand. The brands do everything in their power to make the same product over and over again, identically, in order to promote allegiance by the consumer. Not discounting chemistry, but virtually no winery can consistently put out the same product. Mother Nature changes every minute. Decisions made by the growers as to when to pick change every year. Even when the wine hits the bottle -- it starts its long journey of change, eventually turning into a wonderfully awful vinegar. Winemaker Randy Pitts of Harvest Moon says "great wines are made in the vineyard." Andrew Murray describes his role as winemaker as "...a lifeguard watching the grapes go bad."
When I hear someone say "I love Joseph Phelps Insignia" I think to myself "...this wine lover had a great experience with one or more bottles of Insignia. What she really loves is a Bordeaux-style blend of Napa grapes." That's not to discount the experience, but rather expand the options. Guess how many bonded wineries there are in Napa? 510. Guess how many of those make a blend like Insignia? I don't know. But I'm betting it's a bunch! The point is, Insignia is an expression of a blend of grapes that very much is the calling card of Napa. If you think Insignia is the only worthwhile wine, then you're easy to please and not very adventurous. Because I'd rather take the $200 that one bottle goes for and try eight different wines from the region. You'll likely find a better wine. And, just because one Insignia gets called the Wine of the Year by a magazine does not mean that forever thereafter that wine deserves the praise and price it currently has. Mother Nature dictates the quality of the harvest. And, the sun doesn't shine only on one side of the villa. Everyone in that region growing the right grapes for that region should share in the bounty of a great harvest, whether they charge $20 or $1,200.
Once you let that notion sink in you'll be liberated from the shackles of expensive wines and innocuous experiences. You'll be a knowledgeable wino. A very dangerous thing!
Webster's defines "wino" as someone addicted to wine. It also has the word "derelict" in there somewhere, but I'll take poetic license with my definition. To paraphrase JT, I'm bringin' wino back!
I think the difference between a wino and a wine snob comes down to intent. Both are crazed aficionados of the juice, but one would just assume drink & enjoy the stuff without the requisite pretentious jargon and ritual. The snob will measure him or herself with how many cult Cabernets they've consumed, or which obscure sub appellation in the Old World they can throw on the table. The wino will smile knowingly (is he questioning my fanhood?). The wino knows that it's the sucker who buys into only what the magazines and critics of the world have to say. Because there are far more interesting stories and bottles between the lines. Isn't it more fun & rewarding to rate your own wines?
Wine is such a beautiful thing. It's natural, after-all. Grapes left to die on the vine will become fermented with the natural yeasts that develop on the berries. Yet, there is some belief out there that holds certain winemakers in such reverence truly due to artists and thinkers. Yikes! That almost sounded a bit snobby. Therein lies the difficult line one has to walk in the wine world. You want to appreciate it, and debate about it, but in the end, it's all about how the wine smells -- how it tastes -- and how it feels in your mouth. And everyone can do that. Nobody is born with some kind of bionic palate. Nor is anyone born with a full understanding of the growth classification system in Burgundy or Bordeaux. But, it doesn't matter. Those facts are out there to study if that's your thing, but you certainly don't need to bore yourself with it to understand and appreciate wine.
To be a true lover of wine, all you have to do is drink. The more often you drink, and the more you vary what you drink, the more you'll understand your palate and whether you'll likely adore a new wine or not before even drinking it. And, if you keep some kind of journal after your wine adventures then you'll quickly zero in on what makes your soul feel warm & fuzzy!
That's the kind of power and liberation that I want for all wine lovers. When you truly understand that it's the grape varietal and where it's grown that matters, you'll unlock all of the power to rarely be disappointed with wine.
We Americans are at a supreme disadvantage to this theme. We are bred by Madison Avenue to think of everything as a brand. Coke is a brand. Apple is a brand. Robert Mondavi is not a brand. The brands do everything in their power to make the same product over and over again, identically, in order to promote allegiance by the consumer. Not discounting chemistry, but virtually no winery can consistently put out the same product. Mother Nature changes every minute. Decisions made by the growers as to when to pick change every year. Even when the wine hits the bottle -- it starts its long journey of change, eventually turning into a wonderfully awful vinegar. Winemaker Randy Pitts of Harvest Moon says "great wines are made in the vineyard." Andrew Murray describes his role as winemaker as "...a lifeguard watching the grapes go bad."
When I hear someone say "I love Joseph Phelps Insignia" I think to myself "...this wine lover had a great experience with one or more bottles of Insignia. What she really loves is a Bordeaux-style blend of Napa grapes." That's not to discount the experience, but rather expand the options. Guess how many bonded wineries there are in Napa? 510. Guess how many of those make a blend like Insignia? I don't know. But I'm betting it's a bunch! The point is, Insignia is an expression of a blend of grapes that very much is the calling card of Napa. If you think Insignia is the only worthwhile wine, then you're easy to please and not very adventurous. Because I'd rather take the $200 that one bottle goes for and try eight different wines from the region. You'll likely find a better wine. And, just because one Insignia gets called the Wine of the Year by a magazine does not mean that forever thereafter that wine deserves the praise and price it currently has. Mother Nature dictates the quality of the harvest. And, the sun doesn't shine only on one side of the villa. Everyone in that region growing the right grapes for that region should share in the bounty of a great harvest, whether they charge $20 or $1,200.
Once you let that notion sink in you'll be liberated from the shackles of expensive wines and innocuous experiences. You'll be a knowledgeable wino. A very dangerous thing!
posted by The Cask Room, Mike Kallay at
10:54 AM
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