Wine and Spirit

What's the point in tasting wine?

This is a reasonable question, if wine evokes for you the image of a wine snob, pinky extended, mouthing fancy talk.

Certainly no similar mystique surrounds Pepsi-Cola, iced tea or milk.

But wine is different.

It's the only beverage I know that appeals to both the senses and the intellect.

If you take the time to look for it, every glass contains a lesson in history, geography, agriculture, botany; sometimes anthropology, religion, psychology and more.

There's no reason to be snobbish about wine, and none to fear it. But it's well worth talking about and sharing with friends.

This stuff is supposed to be fun. You don't have to pass a test to enjoy it, and you needn't learn a new language.

The idea behind wine tasting is as simple as this: Slow down. Relax and take the time to think about what you're drinking and to enjoy it with all your senses. (Well, all except hearing. Nobody listens to wine.)

Examine its color. Is it clear or hazy, transparent or opaque?

Take a deep sniff. Does it smell like fruit? Flowers? Road tar or sweat sox?

Got it? Take a drink. Take two. Swish it around your mouth, sensing not only its taste but its texture and weight. Don't worry about looks; you're enjoying yourself.

Put it all together in your head. Think about where it came from. Sip again and enjoy. You won't get all this out of a Pepsi!

One thing makes common scents: Smell is important to the wine taster. Much of what we think is taste really comes through our noses. If you don't believe it, try to enjoy a wine - or a meal - the next time you have a bad head cold.

When it comes to smelling, we take a distant second place to dogs and cats. Still, we humans can train our sense of smell, and you don't have to be an expert wine taster to learn to sniff out the differences among wines.

The aroma of Cabernet Sauvignon and the closely related Merlot grape, for example, often reminds me of cedar wood and pine needles mingled with a good fruit smell reminiscent of currants.

Some add hints that wine tasters call "vegetal:" green olives, green peppers, tobacco leaves or grass.

Aging the wine in oak may add touches of vanilla, cinnamon, cloves and almonds. Extended bottle aging may lend a toasty quality and impart earthy scents as variable as mushrooms, old leather, roses and wildflowers.

Other grapes have their own trademark aromas: Zinfandel often evokes berries. Pinot Noir, the fine grape of Burgundy, may recall violets and spice. The pungently floral quality of freshly ground black pepper signals Syrah, the French Rhone grape.

Among whites, Chardonnay recalls crisp, ripe apples and may add notes of butter, coconut, figs and other tropical fruits, particularly if it's aged in oak.

Riesling, the queen of German grapes, may evoke apples, too, and sometimes citrus fruit, canteloupe and pine.

Sauvignon Blanc often shows a grassy smell and sometimes grapefruit.

Chenin Blanc reminds me of melons and, occasionally, orange blossoms. A smell of peaches identifies Muscat and Gewürztraminer; the latter may add elusive spice.

Taste doesn't mean only what we sense with our mouths.

The words also describes the quality of critical discernment, judgment and appreciation that separates most of us from animals at a trough.

We taste the joy of victory and the bitterness of defeat. We savor life and we sample the flavor of an experience.

Scientists tell us that our taste buds can discern only four basic flavors: Sweet, sour, bitter and salty.

What I think of as taste, however, is a much more complex sensory experience that combines what our taste buds tell us with the senses of smell.

Sourness is a fault in wine if it reeks of vinegar, the sign of a spoiled beverage (fortunately, you'll rarely find it nowadays).

In the form of crisp, sharp acidity, however, a sour sensation is a desirable trait, offering a brisk, acidic taste that's as amiable a companion to fish as a squirt of fresh lemon.

A wine with too little acid, on the other hand, may seem mellow at first, but it's bland and uninspiring, lacking the verve to stand up to food.

Sour and sweet tastes are mixed in many Californian Chardonnays, which at their best are crisp, almost dry, with just enough fresh-fruit sweetness to soften the cutting acidic edge.

Finally, sweet dominates the sour in "late harvest" and other dessert- type wines, in which a penetrating sweetness identifies the style, but the sugar is balanced against sharp acid that keeps the wine from cloying.