April 20, 2006--"Aromas of River Rocks"??
To quote a former colleague, "Life is too short not to drink good wine." Ever since he said that to me six years ago I have been attempting to follow his advice. It's cost a bit, but I also discovered that you can get good deals by purchasing wine via the Internet. A fine source I have found is Winesearcher.com. In fact, right after posting this blog I'll be looking for a good price on some 2004 Premier Cru Chablis, Verget Vaillons.
You might have the impression that I know my wines. I'm learning, but in truth I know more about where to find out about wines than the wines themselves. Among other places, I’m learning from the NY Times of course! Every Wednesday Eric Asimov has his column, "Wines of the Times." (See yesterday's on Chablis linked below.) I turn to it religiously. Well, eagerly.
Though I am learning the difference between Premier Cru and just Cru, I am still having difficulty talking about wine. By this I don't mean that I can't tell you what I like and don't like, or if one wine is as dry or round as I might prefer. I'm referring to the meta-language used when true wine mavens describe the aroma and flavor of individual wines.
I got used to the concept of “big”—a way of describing a strong, perhaps alcoholic wine that is likely to improve with age. And “dry”—when wine isn’t too sweet. Also “flabby”—to describe a bland tasting wine that isn’t going to get any better. I learned to appreciate a “balanced” wine—one in which there is a satisfying relationship between tannin, acid, and alcohol. And when someone says that “This wine has a fine nose,” I understand he is talking about the totality of the wine’s smell or bouquet.
I began to get into trouble, however, when in “Wines of the Times” and other places I started to see individual wines spoken about by making reference to fruits and herbs and spices. For example, in the Chablis column, Asimov writes that one wine tasted has “rich citrus fruit” while another is “taut and clenched, with underlying flavors of flowers.”
I’m sort of all right with the "citrus" but get lost with the “taut” and the “clenched,” and even more lost when it comes to the “flavors of flowers,” wondering just which flowers he means since I’ve only thus far sampled roses, daisies, and an occasional hibiscus. I need more help here.
But what really is interfering with my becoming a true oneophile is my perplexity when he refers to some of the wines as having “the aromas of river rocks” and even more confusing that some have the bouquet of “crushed stones.” I suppose I could get some river rocks to smell, settling for maybe just one aroma rather than his plural aromas, but do I really need to crush some stones and sniff them to truly get it?
So you can see the mess I've gotten myself into. Things are feeling so overwhelming right now that I had better post this and get my hands soon on a glass of “big” wine. You know, the one with all the alcohol.
You might have the impression that I know my wines. I'm learning, but in truth I know more about where to find out about wines than the wines themselves. Among other places, I’m learning from the NY Times of course! Every Wednesday Eric Asimov has his column, "Wines of the Times." (See yesterday's on Chablis linked below.) I turn to it religiously. Well, eagerly.
Though I am learning the difference between Premier Cru and just Cru, I am still having difficulty talking about wine. By this I don't mean that I can't tell you what I like and don't like, or if one wine is as dry or round as I might prefer. I'm referring to the meta-language used when true wine mavens describe the aroma and flavor of individual wines.
I got used to the concept of “big”—a way of describing a strong, perhaps alcoholic wine that is likely to improve with age. And “dry”—when wine isn’t too sweet. Also “flabby”—to describe a bland tasting wine that isn’t going to get any better. I learned to appreciate a “balanced” wine—one in which there is a satisfying relationship between tannin, acid, and alcohol. And when someone says that “This wine has a fine nose,” I understand he is talking about the totality of the wine’s smell or bouquet.
I began to get into trouble, however, when in “Wines of the Times” and other places I started to see individual wines spoken about by making reference to fruits and herbs and spices. For example, in the Chablis column, Asimov writes that one wine tasted has “rich citrus fruit” while another is “taut and clenched, with underlying flavors of flowers.”
I’m sort of all right with the "citrus" but get lost with the “taut” and the “clenched,” and even more lost when it comes to the “flavors of flowers,” wondering just which flowers he means since I’ve only thus far sampled roses, daisies, and an occasional hibiscus. I need more help here.
But what really is interfering with my becoming a true oneophile is my perplexity when he refers to some of the wines as having “the aromas of river rocks” and even more confusing that some have the bouquet of “crushed stones.” I suppose I could get some river rocks to smell, settling for maybe just one aroma rather than his plural aromas, but do I really need to crush some stones and sniff them to truly get it?
So you can see the mess I've gotten myself into. Things are feeling so overwhelming right now that I had better post this and get my hands soon on a glass of “big” wine. You know, the one with all the alcohol.
posted by Steven Zwerling at
4:06 PM
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