Category Archives: Wine Culture

Updating Biodynamics

22 Monday Apr 2019

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biodynamic vineyardBiodynamics is a method of farming that treats the entire farm as a living organism. Developed by philosopher Rudolf Steiner in 1924, it is now being employed by many vineyards throughout the world in an attempt to improve vineyard health and produce better wines. To call your wines “biodynamic”, certification by the Demeter organization is required. It is controversial because many of the farming practices employed by biodynamics are of questionable scientific validity.

For instance, Steiner claimed there are  lunar and astrological influences on soil and plant development and so the timing of when to plant, maintain and harvest your crop us based on both the phase of the moon and the zodiacal constellation the moon is passing through. The timing also depends on whether the crop is the root, leaf, flower, or fruit of the plant. Phases of the moon are also supposed to influence how a wine tastes.

Katia Nussbaum of the San Polino Estate in Montalcino posted a lengthy thought piece on Jancis Robinson’s site about (among other things) biodynamic farming and the need to reconceptualize it for the 21st Century. After a discussion of Darwin, social Darwinism, the microbiome, and new biological models that attribute a level of consciousness to plants, she writes:

Steiner had ideas that pre-dated the organic movement, but elucidated them using the analytical tools and culture of his times and environment. He wrote in the absence of highly powered microscopes and understanding of quantum physics and string theory. He worked through categories and essential truths, through notions of dichotomy, such as the male and female, through astrology and metaphor.

My questions are these:

Why must biodynamic theory fossilise and stick to the original readings of Steiner and his theories of the cosmos?

Can we not use his original intuition and translate it into a modern language to make it more useful to ourselves and our understanding of how vines work and interreact with their environment, to gain a better understanding of how to produce healthier grapes and better wine?

The article is worth a read and Ms. Nussbaum’s plea for an updated biodynamics is welcome.

However, I suspect most winemakers and farmers who employ biodynamics are already on board with her suggestions.

As Craig Camp of Oregon’s Trune Vineyards has often asserted:

The Demeter standard for wines states, “Observation of the Biodynamic calendar is encouraged.” It does not demand only “calendar-specific work days or that “farmers are only permitted to execute vineyard work…on very specific days.” The statements above [ed. in this article not Nussbaum’s] are false and following the biodynamic calendar is not required for Demeter Certification. …If you can’t prune or pick on the ideal day due to weather and practical considerations you know that all of the other work you’ve done will still make exceptional wine.

Two considerations lead me to think biodynamics is being continually updated:

1. As a group winemakers are notably empirical. They make lots of observations and change their practices when something isn’t working. And they have a sustained interest in the science of viticulture.

2. Biodynamics can be time consuming and expensive to implement, especially during the initial conversion of a conventional farm to biodynamics. No one has time and money to waste engaging in practices that don’t make a difference.

Grape farming and winemaking are of course “slow arts”. It often takes years to see the results of an experiment. But as time goes on the question of what works and what doesn’t will be sorted out even in the absence of a grand theory to replace Steiner’s more fanciful notions.

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Terry Theise and the Soul of Wine

18 Thursday Apr 2019

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person thinkingI think the best books I’ve read about wine are the two by wine importer Terry Theise. Reading Between the Wines is a thoroughly enjoyable account of his life in wine and a passionate defense of artisanality. But it’s his most recent book What Makes a Wine Worth Drinking: In Praise of the Sublime that really gets my philosophical juices flowing.

Long celebrated for his portfolio of mostly German and Austrian wines as well as grower Champagne, in these two books he articulates a sophisticated philosophy of wine and introduces a badly needed corrective to our fatally crabbed and often vulgar approach to wine.

But like any work of philosophy, this book raises profound questions. Here a few quotes that I think raise the most important questions we need to answer.

Great wine can induce reverie; I imagine most of us would concur. But the cultivation of reverie is also the best approach to understanding fine wine.

What is it about us and what is it about wine that induces a dream-like state? There is something about certain perceptions that move the mind, that set the mind in motion, and take us to another plane. What is it about taste that enables reverie and why does wine’s capacity to induce reverie help us understand fine wine?

If wine had turned out to be merely sensual I think for me its joys would have been transitory. I’d have done the “wine thing” for a certain number of years and gone on to something else. What continued to drive me, and what drives many of us, is curiosity, pleasure in surprise, and those elusive, incandescent moments of meaning—the sense that some truth, normally obscure, was being revealed.

How can a beverage reveal truths? What kind of truth is this and how would we know we have it?

About particular wines there are certain questions we should pose according to Theise:

Is it charming, imperious, hyperactive, pensive? What sort of texture does it offer? Is it crisp or creamy, nubby or sumptuous? Is it contemplative, energetic, clever, profound? I feel it terribly sad that such language is often debased as inauthentic because it tells us much more about a wine than the prevailing geek-speak.

How could a beverage have personality characteristics? What licenses such a judgment? And why is important that we attribute personality characteristics to wine?

Some wines such as a wine called Souches Meres…are so haunting and stirring that they bypass our entire analytical faculty and fill us with image and feeling.

How does wine stimulate the imagination? We know that painting and literature provoke thought and mental imagery. But wine doesn’t really depict anything; it does not form an image. How is taste connected to the imagination?

My own palate, such as it is, does well at interpreting how a wine behaves, the kind of temperament it seems to have, the shape and torque of its motion and ways its various acts are organized—”acts” in the sense of dramatic arcs such as exposition, development, denouement.

Wine does change as it moves on the palate. But how can those changes acquire a narrative arc. It seems we come back to the same question—how does wine stimulate the imagination and why is it important that it does so?

When a fragrance is evocative yet indistinct—when it doesn’t specify its cognate (such as lemons or peaches or salami or whatever)—it seems to bypass the analytical faculty and go straight to your imagination and from there you climb about the fugue state directly to your soul…

In terms of wine we seem to infer the presence of soul when a wine is redolent, when it has atmospheres of nonwine things, when it echoes, peals, plays overtones. And again in terms of wine qua wine we usually sense the presence of soul in wines with a lot of tertiary elements—that is, things other than the clear flavors of grapes. That’s natural; soul is usually more inferential than literal….

Drinking a very old wine can be a soulful experience—and at least for me—it is almost always an experience of love, gratefulness, and sadness. Soul indeed seems in some way to adhere to sadness. Not that it is sad, but it rides on the back of sadness like a little kid on his Dad’s shoulders….

Wine, I find, can offer soulful moments …but it is also a vector to mystical (or peak) experience.

So we arrive at the ultimate question. For Theise wine has the kind of meaning we reserve for the most profound works of art, speaking to our deepest values and most profound commitments.

There are really three general questions that must be answered:

Why does wine move the mind and the heart? And how does it do so; what are the mechanisms through which wine moves us? Which leads me to a third question: Why do so few people in the wine world acknowledge wine’s power to move us? Are these dimensions discussed in the Master of Wine program or in WSET classes? At UC Davis in the oenology program? The answer to that would be no. Why not?

I have some thoughts on these matters. To be continued.

You Do Want Wine On the Rocks

17 Wednesday Apr 2019

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the rocksI just want to add my two cents to W. Blake Gray’s article on The Rocks District of Milton-Freewater. This is a new AVA, awarded in 2015. It’s located in Northern Oregon just across the Washington border and is a subregion of the Walla Walla AVA. The Wine Spectator’s Harvey Steiman called The Rocks “the most distinctive AVA in the U.S.”  I visited The Rocks last fall and for once I think reality lives up to the hype.

They grow Rhone varietals, mostly Syrah, and it’s extraordinary. Every Syrah I tasted from several different wineries had a distinctive gamy, leathery, mineral funk that leaps from the glass—I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. I suppose it’s the softball-sized lava rocks that populate the vineyards that account for the distinctive flavors. But oenologist Timothy Donahue argues its the high sulfur content, high potassium, low PH and the use of high levels of copper sulphate as a fining agent that gives the wine its flavor profile.

Whatever the explanation these wines are worth seeking out. Cayuse is the best known winery operating in The Rocks but their wines are allocated and hard to get. Last weekend for my tasting group I poured Saviah “The Stones Speak” Syrah in a line up with high scoring wines from Napa, Mendoza, Brunello di Montalcino, and Barolo and it was consistently mentioned as the favorite.

Unfortunately, if you look for “The Rocks District of Milton-Freewater” on the label you will seldom find it. As Blake Gray explains in his article, for a wine to use an AVA on the label it has to be made in the same state as the AVA. Most of the wineries who use The Rocks grapes are located in Washington and have to label their wines from Walla Walla. Some wineries, such as Force Majeure, are building a facility in Milton-Freewater but the town is small, relatively poor, and off the tourist track so it may be a while before the name appears on many labels. But the AVA has a helpful website that lists all the wineries who use grapes from The Rocks.

My crystal ball is as cloudy as anyones but it’s a safe bet this will soon be one of best known AVA’s in the country in the near future. And maybe it will put Syrah back on the list of most sought-after varietals.

Does Great Wine Mix with Great Friends?

15 Monday Apr 2019

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wine and friendsIt is an article of faith in the wine community that wine is meant to be served with food and should always be shared among friends. It is certainly true that wine enhances most meals and brings life and conviviality to social occasions. But I’m not sure all wines are destined for the communal table. I’ve been reading through Terry Theise’s recent book What Makes a Wine Worth Drinking: In Praise of the Sublime, and I find lots to agree with in this quote:

One evening I served a wine to several guests and wished I hadn’t. Not because they were unworthy of that wine—they were more worthy than I was if it came to that—but because the wine was so noble and galvanic I wanted to be led away into its reverie. But a host has obligations, not least among them not to be vacant and pre-occupied.  (Sometimes I wonder if great wine is inimical to socializing,  but follow  that idea where it takes you and you risk sounding misanthropic.)

Really great wines provoke thought and stimulate the imagination. They demand concentration over an extended time and flourish within silence. Too much commotion means you miss much of what such a wine has to offer. When I’m opening a special bottle at home, I want the bustle of me getting dinner on the table to be out of the way. Of course sharing a great wine with family or friends is also a consummate pleasure but especially so in a small group of like-minded devotees who will not be offended by me being “vacant and pre-occupied”.

Last night I had the pleasure of sharing several gorgeous wines with my tasting group of about 20 friends at a restaurant. It was a glorious evening, the wines were extraordinary, and the conversation delightful. The job of hosting the event was widely shared but I’m still expected to describe and comment on the wines. With only a few minutes to ponder a tasting pour and come up with comments I felt like at the end of the evening I needed to apologize to each wine for being too brusque and ungracious. So much beauty was lost in the press of time management and social obligation. They each deserved more of my attention.

This is of course a problem with no solution. The point of a tasting group is to share the experience. It is much worse to be unfair to friends than to be unfair to a wine. But there was nevertheless something sacrificed that should not go unheeded.

The Greek word for human is anthropos and misein means “to hate”, so to be misanthropic is to hate humans. The Greek word for wine is “oinos”. Is “misoinoic” a word? Perhaps it should be.

Why Rosé?

11 Thursday Apr 2019

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pinkI must confess to being a bit puzzled by the surge in interest in Rosé over the past few years. In the U.S., Rosé was long considered a cheap, sweet wine for people looking for alcoholic soda pop. But starting in the 2000s, dry, quality French Rosé was introduced at beach resorts and finally in 2014 the market for it exploded and has continued to show steady growth. As Wine Economist Mike Veseth reports, the value growth in wine imports in 2018 came from two sources—New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and French Rosé.

On the one hand it’s easy to see why Rosé is popular. It’s easy to drink and extraordinarily versatile. It pairs well with a wide variety of dishes and is especially refreshing in hot weather. It’s a safe wine to serve at social functions because it’s unlikely to offend anyone and you, for the most part, know what you’re going to get—fresh berry flavors, bracing acidity, low alcohol, no oak aging.

But is it really that interesting? Only in rare cases does it show much varietal character and I doubt it’s particularly effective at revealing terroir. It can be made in a variety of styles but given its price category, it doesn’t lend itself to expensive experimentation. Occasionally I find one that is distinctive—Bonny Doon’s Vin de Cigare or the offerings from Jean Luc-Columbo come to mind—but most of it is generic and mediocre. Although Provence and the Southern Rhone have a reputation for quality Rosé, production has expanded so rapidly they will be forced to use inferior fruit and quality will suffer. I think it’s already happening as I’ve tasted a few from France recently that were dreadful.

Given its versatility and the fact that many people are interested in lower alcohol wines there is a place for Rosé but I’m skeptical that growth will continue at its current pace. And because it can be made in almost any wine region from many varietals I suspect there is a ceiling on the popularity of French Rosé.

The Wine Critic’s Job (part 2): Tracking Variation

08 Monday Apr 2019

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romanee conti vineyardIn my last post in this series on wine criticism I argued that the job of the wine critic is to make readers aware of a wine’s features,  communicate the kinds of responses available because of those features, and what the reasons are for those responses.

Which features of a wine are the most important to mention in a review? Obviously how the wine smells and tastes must be the focus along with any information that might explain why the wine tastes as it does. Most importantly, the critic must convey what’s noticeable about a wine that calls us to respond to it. A list of aroma notes isn’t sufficient. What the reader needs to know is why those aroma notes or textures are worth mentioning.

Which leads me to the most important feature of any wine that appreciation depends on—the degree to which a wine is distinctive. By “distinctive” I mean variation that carries with it value or high quality. For a wine to be distinctive it must be different from its competitors.

Variation is the life blood of the culture of wine. What makes Barolo (or Bordeaux, Rioja, etc.) important as a region is that the wines made there are distinctive. There is no other location in the world that makes wine that tastes like Barolo. The top wine regions in the world are recognized as such because  their products show significant variation from lesser regions with less distinctive products. In fact the whole appellation system depends on the idea of variation. To qualify as a distinct appellation, they must show there is something distinctive about the geography of the region that warrants the implication of individuality that comes with the appellation designation.

Furthermore, within Barolo, the prestige and price of, for instance, Giacomo Conterno Monfortino, is in part a result of the wine being distinctively different from other producers in the region, and particular vineyards are valued because the grapes they produce variations that are highly valued.

Wine appreciation also includes an appreciation of vintage variation. Much of the excitement of a new vintage for enthusiasts results from the expectation that each vintage will show distinct characteristics that can be compared and contrasted with earlier vintages. And the process of aging wines is interesting precisely because each bottle ages as an individual and thus can show variations that surprise (or disappoint) when opened.

Without variation as a dominant value, wine would be as uninteresting as orange juice or milk and there would be no reason for the vast number of brands and the price differentials that distinguish them. It is variation that makes wine the cultural icon it has become.

Thus, because of the importance of variation, it’s the primary job of the wine critic to track variation and report it to her readers. The ability to recognize and put into words how a wine varies from its competition is the most important ability a wine critic needs to be successful.

How to Ruin a Winery Visit in One Lesson

04 Thursday Apr 2019

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winery visitMy wife and I have averaged about 80 winery visits per year over the past 5 years so maybe I’m jaded. And I will fess up to being peculiar so maybe my preferences are atypical. But this recent rundown on Wine Searcher of “advice” from architects and designers about how to improve the winery experience is more horrifying than helpful. Architect Scott Corridan has this advice:

I don’t care about your gardens, signs and cookbooks,” he continues. Everyone has those, but he might actually be open to purchasing them if he understands your brand and if the story behind it is truly compelling….Branding a winery, and setting it apart from its competition, is the single most important thing executives can do, he said. “I want you to get the message, feel the brand and have that oh-my-god-fill-in-the-blank moment [when you visit the winery].

Ah no. I don’t want to “feel the brand”. Branding is marketing and I don’t want to feel “marketed to”. The wine will speak for itself. And unless you’re revolutionizing winemaking, I can’t imagine what message you want me to get. Don’t tell me how much you love your vineyard or how committed you are to sustainability. Everyone says that. You’re making wine not memes.

As to a story. Well, some wineries have compelling stories and some don’t. Most winery stories are some version of “successful engineer and family are tired of the corporate world and find the wine lifestyle attractive and so they work hard, save hard, and study hard to open their winery”. The details of that story can be compelling and original but too often it’s just more of the same. What matters more than the story is whose telling it. Winemakers and family members can usually make their stories interesting since you can connect the personality with the narrative. If it’s winery personnel reporting the story it’s going to be much harder to bring out the personality that animates the story.

The moral of that story? Make the people whose story is being told available in the tasting room. It’s time consuming, no doubt, but that is what makes generic stories more relevant and memorable. To be honest, I seldom remember a winery’s story unless I spend a lot of time writing about it. What I remember are the people I met at the winery and their wines, if they were distinctive.

Mr. Corridan continues, complaining that most wineries are lacking a warm welcome.

Hands down the [Napa] Valley fails at the greet…It is not a Millennial, Gen X or Boomer thing. We all need a human being [to guide us at the winery] because maybe I am not smart enough to be tasting these wines or I need someone to hold my hand and tell me where the bathroom is.

This lack of a welcome is true of the large wineries in Napa who cater to the limo crowd. I can’t say it’s true of the small wineries I visit there. But the general point is correct. A warm welcome is important, although assuming people are too stupid to drink your wines or find their way to bathroom probably isn’t the right attitude to adopt. The biggest problem with “the greet” is that some wineries get too busy and don’t have sufficient staff or space to handle the customers. Correcting this doesn’t require fancy design; it’s about efficiently staffing and organizing your tasting room.

So what do these luminaries think is the solution to the cold, impersonal greeting?

Since most wineries fail at the “greet”, several of the architects suggested replacing the human hello with the sensual flitter of light. Quimby suggests using warm light as an opening for your experience, which can take the intimidation out of your arrival at a winery.

Wait. What? So instead of hiring warm, competent people to welcome guests you want to replace them with a light show? Maybe I really am too stupid to drink your wines. I’m not getting this “solution”. But then here is the real genius suggestion:

At Ron Sutton’s dream winery guests would be greeted with humans bearing tablets and all their information, including credit card data would be taken down. That tablet would then become their guide for the visit.

Once guests are in the tasting room there is a bar in center where the wines are displayed. Then the tablet kicks in and all wines have sensors, so when visitors pour them the winemaker appears on the screen to describe what they are tasting. Then they can rate the wine and decide if they want to buy it. Dealing with the tablet also allows customers to ask questions privately and not to potentially be embarrassed about what they don’t know.

The tablet will then invite them out to the vineyards and regale them with information about the grapes they are viewing. The winery would also have a cinema room where winemakers can tell their family stories and guests could have private parties.

Once visitors exit the winery into the store “the tablet knows what you bought and everything has been paid for. You are now attached to the winery and know the winemaker.” What is more, the marketing department has all their contact information.

Ohfergawdsake. To solve the problem of impersonal tasting room staff we’re now to be greeted with a drone snatching my credit card and then given videos to watch while we drink the wine.

I sure hope the wineries who attended this fiasco didn’t pay too much for this advice.

Metaphor is Indispensible to Wine Criticism

03 Wednesday Apr 2019

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flying fruitPeople who write about wine, especially people who write wine reviews, are often derided for their flowery, elaborate flavor and texture descriptors. Some of the complainants are consumers baffled by what descriptors such as “big-boned” or “flamboyant” might mean. Other complainants are experts of some sort who wish wine language had the precision of scientific discourse. The Journal of Wine Economists went so far as to call wine writers “bullshit artists”. (Since I call economists bullshit artists rather often, I’ll take that as a compliment)

The problem with all these complaints is that they are tilting at windmills. Although we have a rich and highly developed vocabulary for talking about wine it is thoroughly metaphorical. That is because there is no literal vocabulary for describing wine. Even the fruit, vegetal and earth aromas that have become commonplace in wine descriptions are metaphors. A Cabernet Sauvignon is not literally a black cherry. It may smell vaguely like a black cherry but the word “like” there is the tell. “Black cherry” is a likeness, a metaphor useful for approximating the aroma of some Cabernets. No fruit descriptor we use to describe wine is close enough to its source, i.e. the actual fruits, to count as a literal description.

We compare wine aromas to fruits and other edible substances because we have no alternative.

And, no, a scientific vocabulary will not come close to usefully describing a wine outside the laboratory or winery where technical discussions need such a vocabulary. It’s fine to point out that a wine has a distinct odor of pyrazines laced with hints of thiols if you like. But pyrazines can smell like bell pepper or olive, thiols like grapefruit or gooseberry. And those differences matter.To claim that a Sauvignon Blanc contains pyrazines is almost tautological. Of course it does; that aroma is part of what defines Sauvignon Blanc. That is far too generic a description to be useful to readers of wine reviews.

What the reader needs to know is how the aroma and flavor notes are working together to create an overall impression of the wine. No list of chemical compounds or esters will give you that. Chemical compounds don’t exist in isolation; they interact with other compounds to form emergent properties such as harmony, explosiveness, finesse and flamboyance, that are not reducible to the underlying chemical properties. It is those emergent properties that we enjoy and any description that leaves them out will be misleading.

What we do need to investigate is how well metaphors serve the goals of wine criticism. To answer that we need an account of what the goals of wine criticism are, a topic I’ve been covering recently in several posts, as well as an account of how metaphor works to advance those goals. Are some metaphors better than others? What makes them so? How do readers know what wine metaphors mean? And how best can we teach them what they mean.

That sounds like the start of another series of posts.

Confusion Over Reduction in Wines

28 Thursday Mar 2019

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confusedVicki Denig performs a valuable service by explaining one of the new wine buzzwords—reduction. Unfortunately, the winemakers she interviewed weren’t quite on the same page.

“Reduction” is not really a new term. Reduction refers to a wine that has been protected from oxygen exposure. The phenomenon has been around since winemakers have been adding sulfur or leaving wine on the lees without racking. (It’s called reduction because the wine or juice molecules in the absence of oxygen are gaining an election thus making the overall charge more negative.)

Winemakers now use the term frequently because more and more winemakers are practicing reductive winemaking as a way of preserving fresh fruit expression, and so it has crept into the wine lexicon as a way of explaining what is going on with a wine.

It had always been my assumption that wines in a reductive stage smell like garlic, matchsticks, or in extreme cases rotten eggs or burnt rubber. (Happily the effect usually goes away when oxygen is introduced so we typically don’t get rotten eggs in our Chardonnay)

Unfortunately, winemakers themselves (at least the ones quoted in the article) seem to be confused about which aromas indicate reduction.

Rajit Parr of Sandhi Wines says,

Reduction happens due to fermentation, it’s a byproduct. So minerals can make an affect on it, but it’s not a smell of minerals. When people say ‘Oh yeah, this wine has a lot of minerality’ because it has reduction, that’s an incorrect statement.”

But then:

In Central Otago, Francis Hutt, winemaker at Carrick Winery, also supports positive reduction. For him, great examples tend to show stone, flint, and “semi-industrial” flavors.

Hmm. Stone and flint are rather common descriptions of mineral aromas at least as that troubled term “minerality” has been used recently. [Most minerals don’t have an aroma; it’s a general term used to indicate anything rock or gravel-like in a wine]

And Abe Schoener winemaker at Red Hook Winery and founder of the Scholium Project reports:

On the positive side, for Schoener, notes of roasted coffee, chocolate, dark and savory notes, to notes of rocks, hot stony surfaces, ocean, and even notes of animal excrement, can bring positive, layered characteristics to a wine.

Coffee and chocolate I thought were oak derived aromas. Animal excrement, aka “barnyard,” is a “brett” derivative. Rocks and sea breeze, again, we’ve been classifying as minerality.

So is the take home point that we should be using the term “reduction” instead of “minerality”?  That won’t fly because lots of wines smell of rocks that are conventionally made, without reduction.

So after reading this article I am more confused than ever. It’s the job of philosophy to confuse readers; not journalism.

Six Types of Wine Tasting Experiences

27 Wednesday Mar 2019

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wine tastingWe drink wine in a variety of situations. Almost all wine drinkers drink wine to accompany meals, loosen inhibitions at a party, relax after work or to savor while cooking dinner. Many share wines with family and friends, visit wineries on weekends or attend tastings where education is part of the agenda.  Some wine lovers study a wine and savor it over several hours; others taste wine professionally. In most cases there is something else going on when the wine is poured; distracted drinking is unavoidable.

Given this diversity of situations in which wine is consumed, we need a variety of approaches to wine tasting in order for our level of attention to fit the situation. In fact for many people, their wine drinking is stuck at one of these levels.

It seems to me there are 6 such categories that organize our level of attention and type of focus.

Background Tasting

Background tasting involves tasting when there is something else going on that requires your nearly full attention. At best you can occasionally steal a moment to taste and think about the wine, but your attentiveness to the wine dips in and out and you can find yourself consuming a glass without ever having focused on it. Dinner parties, if you’re the conversational type, usually require background tasting. People who drink wine out of habit or because it’s there may never taste any other way.

Whimsical Tasting

In whimsical tasting there is some opportunity and  willingness to savor but our attention to the wine consists of intermittent moments of seeking aroma notes or enjoying the finish. We taste whatever we feel like, with attention bouncing around like a jar fly,  but there is no attempt to organize our experience or gather thoughts about the wine. I would imagine this category to be typical of most wine drinkers who are neither connoisseurs, students of wine, nor industry people

Atomistic Tasting

In this category one sees wine appreciation as something to aspire to and the taster may have learned a bit about varietals or wine regions. But the focus is on what is widely accepted and discussed as something to be noticed about a wine. There is searching behavior going on as the taster tries to identify aroma or flavor notes but at best only isolated parts of the wine are identified without attending to how they fit together or what they mean. In some cases this kind of tasting experience may be more about appearing sophisticated or hip with no effort to genuinely comprehend the wine. But usually this is just an early stage in acquiring genuine expertise. Focusing on what other people say is part of learning how to taste.

Narcissistic Tasting

The narcissistic taster is a genuine connoisseur with experience and good taste. But her response to the wine never gets beyond I like or I don’t like it. There is no attempt to understand why the wine is good or bad or to communicate reasons for her judgments based on features of the wine. The wine itself is seldom the focus of attention—the attention is directed at her own reactions.

Prismatic Tasting

Prisms reveal the complexity of light by refracting light rays that display colors not seem without the prism. There is a kind of wine tasting experience that functions like a prism. No one can engage all the features of a wine at once. Wines are too complex for one-off sampling and only a series of tastes over time, with attention systematically focused on various dimensions of the wine, will get the whole wine into view. For instance, you can’t seek obscure aroma notes while at the same time allowing the wine to induce an imaginative state. The former act of attention requires intense focus while the imaginative state requires relaxed, diffuse focus. Yet, like a prism, that search for aromas can put you in an imaginative state. It can send the mind on a journey enabling you to think of metaphorical attributions that help get the whole wine into view. This is where we get wine descriptors like “brooding”, “a street walker”, or  “the parry and thrust of acidity”. Unfortunately, there are many in the industry who think prismatic tasting should not exist.

Performance Tasting

This is the kind of tasting required to pass difficult certification exams and used by professionals to converse about wine. It is the self-conscious scrutiny of aroma notes and structural characteristics, a narrow field of attention compared to prismatic tasting, which aims to objectively and accurately identify features of the wine that have a bearing on quality and typicity.

The question of which of these types of tasting experiences are genuine aesthetic experiences is important but will have to wait for another day.

This taxonomy was inspired by the taxonomy of listening experiences developed by John T. Lysaker in his very fine book entitled Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports. The term “prismatic listening” was coined by him.