Wine Tasting
Mar. 14th, 2005 10:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarl“Now Ben is the sommelier at the most expensive restaurant in Wellington, the Silver Fox and he’s agreed to open up his cellar for you today. They’re closed on Mondays.”
Eric is talking non-stop, a sort of nervous chatter. I’m not sure if he’s worried about me impressing his friend or the other way around. I’m just grateful that this Ben person has agreed to give me some pointers on wine tasting, since I know next to nothing about it. Aunt June is pressing ahead with her plans and the sheep are already gone. She has her workers plowing her fields and running trellises for the vines. She and I have been arguing about what type of grapes plant and hopefully the lessons today will help me make up my mind.
“He travels all over the world, doing tastings and buying vintages. He just got back from South Africa.” Eric knocks on the shut door to the restaurant. After a moment, the door opens and we are waved inside.
Ben is shorter than Eric, his hair closely shaved, but he has startling blue eyes, surrounding by laugh lines. He and Eric hug briefly and then he turns those eyes to me and I feel like I’m under a bloody microscope.
“Well, darling, he certainly is large.” I try to hold back the blush as he extends his hand. “Ben Turner, pleased to meet you.”
“Karl Urban.”
Ben winks at Eric and then leads us to a table covered in a white cloth. There are several wine glasses arranged with a wine bottle behind each. Two baskets holding slices of French bread are on the table beside a pitcher of water.
“Have you ever done this before?” Ben asks.
“No, but I really appreciate you helping me with this.”
Ben gives me a twinkling look and picks up a bottle. “We’re doing reds only today, they’re the most interesting to my mind and they’re becoming more and more popular, especially with the Americans.”
He uncorks the bottle smoothly and pours a glass. “The first thing you do to judge a wine is to look at it, describe it’s color. Observe it against a white background.” He tilts the glass and holds it over the tablecloth.
“With a red wine, you tilt the glass and look at the rim of the wine, this will give you an idea of it’s age. Reds lighten as they age.” He puts the glass in my hand and I do as he instructed.
“What color do you see?”
“Well . . . sort of browny-red I think.”
“Good, now swirl it in the glass and tell me about the thickness of the wine. Is it light or heavy?”
I try to think of things that would be thicker or thinner. “Not as thick as cough syrup, but not like Kool Aid.”
Eric coughs, but Ben merely smiles. “Yes, we would call that a medium body and the way the drops cling to the side of the glass is called the wine’s legs. Swirling serves another purpose, it releases the aromas of the wine, so the second step is to smell it and try to identify what things you can smell in it. Take one deep whiff and then think about what you smell.”
I try but all I can smell is the wine. And I say as much.
“No worries, it is a skill that will come with practice. Let me give you some words and you see if any fit what you smell. Swirl and take another whiff” He goes through a list . . . appley, oakey, fresh, herbaceous, spicy, peppery, grapey, rasberryish, fruity. He says the words and I think about what I’m smelling and I finally understand what he is talking about.
“Perhaps slightly fruity?” I say tentatively.
Ben nods encouragingly. “Don’t worry about getting it right or wrong, just try to put an adjective to it. The last step is tasting. There are three parts, the first impression, the swoosh and then the aftertaste. So take a mouthful and then swoosh it around your mouth and then swallow it.”
I do as instructed, feeling faintly ridiculous as I swish the wine around like mouthwash. “It is not sweet at first, but then it was a little sweet when I was swooshing.”
“Excellent! This is a Pinot Noir from the Akarua Winery in Central Ontago on the South Island. It is a very rich wine with a berryish taste. That’s the sweetness you are sensing.”
I pass my glass to Eric who follows the same procedure before swallowing a mouthful. Ben pours each of us a glass of water and hands us a slice of bread. “Just one bite of the bread and a swallow of water to clean your palate. Pinots are wonderful wines, very complex flavor, velvet feel on the tongue, wonderful body. And it doesn’t take much effort on the part of the vintner to achieve it. The problem with them is that the vines are devilish tricky to grow. I wouldn’t recommend them for someone just starting out.”
I nod my agreement as he goes on to explain that the Hawkes Bay area isn’t really suited for the Pinot grapes. He opens two more bottles.
“These are two of the same variety of grapes, one from the Rhone Valley in France and one from the Barossa region of Australia. This variety of grape is called a Syrah and it is much easier to cultivate. But the Ozzies call it Shiraz, unlike the rest of the world, heaven only knows why.”
We taste both wines, cleaning our palates between. “What do you think?” Ben asks.
“The Australian one had very faint sweeter taste then the French one.”
“Exactly. That is known as a jammier flavor, and some consider it a fault, but I think both vintages are excellent. Americans are buying bottles of Shiraz in record numbers.” He winks again. “I also pay attention to sales, not just taste.”
I squeeze Eric’s hand, grateful that he has introduced me to Ben. This man really knows what he is doing and I’m glad for the chance to pick his brain.
We finish the bottles that Ben has set out and he says that there is much more to learn, but he will save the more subtle aspects of wine tasting for another time. “You should really be spitting instead of swallowing, so you won’t get buzzed. Perhaps next time.”
After we consult, I decide that I will try to talk June into the Cabernet Sauvignon grapes which grow easily in Zid and the Syrah grapes, because I really liked that wine. I smile at Eric and lean over to kiss him. He tastes of the wines we have been drinking and I probe his mouth, trying to identify the flavors the way Ben has taught me.
“Hmm, rich and earthy, nice aftertaste.” I raise my head to see Ben grinning at us.
“So, Ben . . . can you recommend a wine that goes with green-eyed redheads?”
He laughs, “Back in a minute.” He comes back with another bottle of red. “This is Catena Malbec from Argentina, and it has a spicy taste, like cinnamon or cloves, I think it will go well with what you have in mind.”
I pay for the bottle and thank Ben profusely. I wrap an arm around Eric, pleasantly relaxed from the wine I have been drinking, anxious to get him home and try the wine. Eric seems amused at my enthusiasm, until I start telling him what I am planning for the wine and he hurries me along. Never knew wine tasting had so many side benefits.
Eric is talking non-stop, a sort of nervous chatter. I’m not sure if he’s worried about me impressing his friend or the other way around. I’m just grateful that this Ben person has agreed to give me some pointers on wine tasting, since I know next to nothing about it. Aunt June is pressing ahead with her plans and the sheep are already gone. She has her workers plowing her fields and running trellises for the vines. She and I have been arguing about what type of grapes plant and hopefully the lessons today will help me make up my mind.
“He travels all over the world, doing tastings and buying vintages. He just got back from South Africa.” Eric knocks on the shut door to the restaurant. After a moment, the door opens and we are waved inside.
Ben is shorter than Eric, his hair closely shaved, but he has startling blue eyes, surrounding by laugh lines. He and Eric hug briefly and then he turns those eyes to me and I feel like I’m under a bloody microscope.
“Well, darling, he certainly is large.” I try to hold back the blush as he extends his hand. “Ben Turner, pleased to meet you.”
“Karl Urban.”
Ben winks at Eric and then leads us to a table covered in a white cloth. There are several wine glasses arranged with a wine bottle behind each. Two baskets holding slices of French bread are on the table beside a pitcher of water.
“Have you ever done this before?” Ben asks.
“No, but I really appreciate you helping me with this.”
Ben gives me a twinkling look and picks up a bottle. “We’re doing reds only today, they’re the most interesting to my mind and they’re becoming more and more popular, especially with the Americans.”
He uncorks the bottle smoothly and pours a glass. “The first thing you do to judge a wine is to look at it, describe it’s color. Observe it against a white background.” He tilts the glass and holds it over the tablecloth.
“With a red wine, you tilt the glass and look at the rim of the wine, this will give you an idea of it’s age. Reds lighten as they age.” He puts the glass in my hand and I do as he instructed.
“What color do you see?”
“Well . . . sort of browny-red I think.”
“Good, now swirl it in the glass and tell me about the thickness of the wine. Is it light or heavy?”
I try to think of things that would be thicker or thinner. “Not as thick as cough syrup, but not like Kool Aid.”
Eric coughs, but Ben merely smiles. “Yes, we would call that a medium body and the way the drops cling to the side of the glass is called the wine’s legs. Swirling serves another purpose, it releases the aromas of the wine, so the second step is to smell it and try to identify what things you can smell in it. Take one deep whiff and then think about what you smell.”
I try but all I can smell is the wine. And I say as much.
“No worries, it is a skill that will come with practice. Let me give you some words and you see if any fit what you smell. Swirl and take another whiff” He goes through a list . . . appley, oakey, fresh, herbaceous, spicy, peppery, grapey, rasberryish, fruity. He says the words and I think about what I’m smelling and I finally understand what he is talking about.
“Perhaps slightly fruity?” I say tentatively.
Ben nods encouragingly. “Don’t worry about getting it right or wrong, just try to put an adjective to it. The last step is tasting. There are three parts, the first impression, the swoosh and then the aftertaste. So take a mouthful and then swoosh it around your mouth and then swallow it.”
I do as instructed, feeling faintly ridiculous as I swish the wine around like mouthwash. “It is not sweet at first, but then it was a little sweet when I was swooshing.”
“Excellent! This is a Pinot Noir from the Akarua Winery in Central Ontago on the South Island. It is a very rich wine with a berryish taste. That’s the sweetness you are sensing.”
I pass my glass to Eric who follows the same procedure before swallowing a mouthful. Ben pours each of us a glass of water and hands us a slice of bread. “Just one bite of the bread and a swallow of water to clean your palate. Pinots are wonderful wines, very complex flavor, velvet feel on the tongue, wonderful body. And it doesn’t take much effort on the part of the vintner to achieve it. The problem with them is that the vines are devilish tricky to grow. I wouldn’t recommend them for someone just starting out.”
I nod my agreement as he goes on to explain that the Hawkes Bay area isn’t really suited for the Pinot grapes. He opens two more bottles.
“These are two of the same variety of grapes, one from the Rhone Valley in France and one from the Barossa region of Australia. This variety of grape is called a Syrah and it is much easier to cultivate. But the Ozzies call it Shiraz, unlike the rest of the world, heaven only knows why.”
We taste both wines, cleaning our palates between. “What do you think?” Ben asks.
“The Australian one had very faint sweeter taste then the French one.”
“Exactly. That is known as a jammier flavor, and some consider it a fault, but I think both vintages are excellent. Americans are buying bottles of Shiraz in record numbers.” He winks again. “I also pay attention to sales, not just taste.”
I squeeze Eric’s hand, grateful that he has introduced me to Ben. This man really knows what he is doing and I’m glad for the chance to pick his brain.
We finish the bottles that Ben has set out and he says that there is much more to learn, but he will save the more subtle aspects of wine tasting for another time. “You should really be spitting instead of swallowing, so you won’t get buzzed. Perhaps next time.”
After we consult, I decide that I will try to talk June into the Cabernet Sauvignon grapes which grow easily in Zid and the Syrah grapes, because I really liked that wine. I smile at Eric and lean over to kiss him. He tastes of the wines we have been drinking and I probe his mouth, trying to identify the flavors the way Ben has taught me.
“Hmm, rich and earthy, nice aftertaste.” I raise my head to see Ben grinning at us.
“So, Ben . . . can you recommend a wine that goes with green-eyed redheads?”
He laughs, “Back in a minute.” He comes back with another bottle of red. “This is Catena Malbec from Argentina, and it has a spicy taste, like cinnamon or cloves, I think it will go well with what you have in mind.”
I pay for the bottle and thank Ben profusely. I wrap an arm around Eric, pleasantly relaxed from the wine I have been drinking, anxious to get him home and try the wine. Eric seems amused at my enthusiasm, until I start telling him what I am planning for the wine and he hurries me along. Never knew wine tasting had so many side benefits.
