Tasting with someone else’s brain

Sometimes writing notes for a tasting is just plain hard. One particular day, I found myself having to steer my brain away from just thinking about how lovely this particular wine was in my glass, and how refreshing it was, back to how would someone else perceive it. What was making it refreshing? What else is it like? How much was left in the bottle? Am I absolutely certain I can’t just call it good and be done? *sigh* Unfortunately, when people are looking to learn a little bit, or spend a bit of money, they want just a touch more than that.

I suffer from a common wine nerd malady: I like so many different wines that it can take a huge effort to distill the various social/environmental/mental factors into what I want in my glass for a given meal or moment. I’m stuck looking through my wine brain Rolodex that has fragments of tastes, flavors and memories of wines past, not to mention the somehow never shrinking list of “things I want to try.” When attempting to give a recommendation for someone else on the spot, there’s that moment of trying to build a brand new wine brain Rolodex for that person filled with relevant information.

When people come to me for recommendations, whether for just a glass for right now (like I do so often for my spouse), or for a special bottle (a friend looking for a celebratory bottle of Champagne), or even for a whole event’s-worth of people (a friend’s wedding), I start peppering the asker with “the questions.”

When you have just a by-the-glass list in front of you, relatively few questions can get to your answer. The example of helping my spouse choose a glass on a dinner out can be pretty straight-forward. I have shared dozens upon dozens of meals and wines with this person, and can fairly reliably infer what their reaction to a flavor profile will be (although I can always be surprised). I can convince him to try just about anything once, but when he wants comfort, a red Côtes du Rhône or Cabernet Sauvignon is the best. If one of those is obviously available, I have an easy night. If we have to wade further into particulars, then the staff get the questions (which of these walks that line between fruity and earthy?) There are always those nights where a totally unexpected taste can win the day, and starting a whole new subheading in the Roman-Rolodex is the best way to celebrate.

When you have the world of wine for reference, it can be daunting, so the questions have to get more specific. When I am not shopping for or with someone, I need to know how they prefer to shop — readily available in shops? Online? What state? [alcohol distribution in the United States is its own special labyrinth] It is quite frankly easiest when you know you have some sort of flavor profile as a common language, but it can be thrilling to tease out the common thread in outwardly uncommon tastes. Getting that Moscato drinker to enjoy something a little drier but not off-putting. Showing the reds-only fan that you can enjoy something more pale (even if it is only the baby-step to a rosé). This is when it becomes useful to drink with a lot of different people and solicit their feedback. Is your “fruity” someone else’s “sweet?” Is the hint of barnyard that you find subtle overwhelming to the person next to you? Build that extra Rolodex and start stuffing it with those tidbits.