My wine icks
I watched horrified as his hand stretched towards my wine glass, facing upward, cupping the bowl like Leonardo diCaprio’s Gatsby toasting his guests.
Awkwardly clasping it to his mouth, almost like an inconveniently large apple, the wine slopping towards his mouth, he took a mouthful. In those three seconds he dropped from an eight to – at best – a six. I had the ick.
This moment got me thinking about my wine icks – and there are a lot. These are the ones that sit top of my list (and how to avoid them).
“Ooh, it’s very smooth.”
There are few comments that make me cringe more than this. The person will look expectantly at me as I awkwardly try and think of what to say in response, or how quickly I can change the subject. It’s not that wine can’t be smooth: but somehow this is the descriptor that enthusiastic amateurs fall upon most often, irrelevant of the wine in front of them. They mean it well. I know they do. But, I say, screaming into the void, IT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING.
Now, perhaps they’re talking about the texture of a wine, the supple tannin profile of a red, say, but I think – most often – people mean that a wine is balanced. There isn’t anything that sticks out, no speed bumps on the palate, the acid, structure and fruit all working in harmony. So say that instead, please.
Don’t say: smooth
Do say: balanced
“Look at those legs!”
Right. This is the calling card of someone who once went to a wine tasting, hosted by someone who didn’t really know what they’re doing. It’s not their fault, it’s the blind leading the blind out there.
Legs are the tears that form on a glass when you swirl it. Someone somewhere once told someone that the appearance of legs means the wine is good, and we’ve not been able to escape those Chinese whispers ever since. Reader, it doesn’t mean a wine is good. In fact, it has nothing to do with quality; it means that the wine has a higher level of alcohol, sugar and/or tannins, which may be a good or bad thing, depending on the wine and the balance of the elements. So just stop it, ok?
Don’t talk about: legs
Do say: nothing
People like big punts and it’s all a lie
No other wine lovers can deny, there’s a group of wine enthusiasts – often middle-aged men – that still believe a heavy bottle, and a big punt, means that a wine is good. Now, a heavy glass bottle is expensive to make. Economics means that the producer therefore has to be able to sell it for enough to justify those costs – but that can be entirely unrelated to the quality of wine within.
It’s also a sign that the producer gives not one hoot about the environment (the impact of producing the bottle, nor of shipping it around the world). It’s a hot topic these days – and you’ll find brilliant wines in deliciously light bottles. You’ll find great bottles in can, bag, bag-in-box and more. Don’t judge the wine by its packaging. As for punts, honestly, get over it.
Don’t talk about: the weight of the bottle or size of the punt
Do: be open-minded
“It’s quite sweet, isn’t it?”
Well, I’ve found that often, my friend, it isn’t. It’s hard describing wine when you haven’t spent a decade studying it (oh, hi, WSET and the IMW), so I get that I really don’t have the right to judge here. But it doesn’t stop me.
Most of the time, people seem to mean that a wine is fruity, or fruitier than they expect. It’s often in reference to white wines, and they just don’t know how to describe a richer style of white – something that isn’t an anonymous Pinot Grigio. Rarely do they mean that the wine is literally sweet, ie has residual sugar.
Don’t say: sweet (unless it really is literally sweet)
Do say: fruity, maybe?
Idiot fizz elitists
“You know, the thing about being a lawyer is that I get to drink loads of good Champagne, so I’m really fussy about fizz,” said my date, dismissing the wine I was drinking. The wine in question was a single-vineyard, vintage, traditional-method sparkling from Catalonia. Calling it Cava is rude, this was a gorgeously rich, fine fizz that had spent eight years on its lees. It was gorgeous – and retails for more than most non-vintage Champagne.
In many ways, people who make such declarations are the worst: they think they know more than they do – and they want you to know all about it. They’ve learnt that Champagne only comes from the Champagne region, they know that it’s different to Prosecco, but they don’t know what makes it good – beyond its price and brand. They therefore don’t want to drink any sparkling wine that doesn’t come with the Champenois seal of approval. Well, that’s just silly. But if it means more delicious fizz for me, then whatever, I really can’t be bothered to explain it all to them. (The wine was this, by the way).
Don’t say: I only drink Champagne
Do: get over yourself
Now, as a personal aside, please don’t ask me if I’m a sommelier (yes, I know it’s the only wine job that people know) or what my favourite wine is. I really don't want to answer either question ever again.
