I want to tell you a secret. I’m sure you’ve watched someone swirl, sniff, and sip some vino and then go off about how it had notes of blackberry, peppercorns, and a hint of oak with subtle vanilla–it was probably a man and he may or may not have actually known what he was talking about. But, I’m sure he said it confidently. I find it really funny (but not necessarily ‘ha-ha’ funny) that my straight-dude friends all feel very confident talking about the flavors in their wine or beer, whether or not they’re really on track with their assessments. I wish I had the unbridled and unearned confidence of mommy’s precious boy.
"I wish I had the unbridled and unearned confidence of mommy’s precious boy."
Let’s start with a truth: different grape varieties and different methods of crafting can create wines with a variety of flavors and aromas. So, in some senses, there are ‘right and wrong’ answers when it comes to the question, “What is the flavor profile of this wine?” With that said, taste is deeply personal–and smell is really no different. Here’s the big secret: if somebody tries to tell you that there’s only ever one correct set of answers for how a particular wine smells or tastes–that is a fucking lie. It’s a (literal) man-made myth that we continue to perpetuate and in doing so we’re allowing the boys’ club to win. So let’s fucking not do that anymore! Have you ever had a stoner friend go off about how the way you see the color blue might not be the way they see the color blue but because we use shared language to describe it, and can’t see through each others’ eyes, there’s no way to know if ‘blue’ means the same thing to you as it does to them? The same idea can be applied to smells and flavors but on an even broader spectrum. Perhaps you taste a wine and describe a flavor you notice using terms like, ‘brown sugar’ and ‘earthy.’ I might sip the same wine, notice the same quality, and say, “This tastes like dates to me.” We’re not tasting different things. We’re using different words to describe it. Neither of us is wrong.
"We liked the same wines, but our experiences were so different." -Wine and Women + Part 3
This goes so much deeper than just personal taste and choice of words. We’re going down this road again, so buckle up buttercup, because how we experience wine has a lot to do with our level of–you guessed it–privilege. If someone has grown up in poverty, or with food insecurity, they are less likely to have developed a vast array of sense-memories to help them pick apart the myriad aromas and flavors present in wine. If you’ve never tasted a date, quince, juniper berries, or even something as simple as a fresh pear–how can you know if a wine shares its qualities? Don’t even get me started on terroir! This is really where the benefit of privilege starts to become apparent as a massive leg-up in the wine world.
You see, the French word terroir is used to describe how soil, climate, and topography of a specific place all have an impact on the wine made there. But, if you’ve never been privileged enough to travel to Europe and visit the vineyards, you’ll have no frame of reference when you’re trying to pick apart the profile of a wine. It can be really tricky. I should know. I drink a lot of wine, have taken tests on the subject, and I’ve been to Europe a total of zero times. I enjoy wines from the Rhône Valley. I was friendly with someone who enjoyed wine and traveled to France often. He couldn’t open a bottle from the Rhône Valley without being transported back to the sun-baked, mineral smell of the round pebbles carpeting the vineyards while aromas of lavender and sage hung heavy in the air. We liked the same wines, but our experiences were so different. He knew what the wine tasted like because he’d been to the source and had formed sense memories. I struggled to learn what the wine tasted like by repeatedly sipping, poring over textbooks, and watching endless travel documentaries from the safety of my sofa–laboring to wrap my head around a corner of the world I may never have the privilege of visiting. Privilege makes tasting wine easier. Lack of privilege doesn’t make tasting wine impossible: sometimes it makes it harder and sometimes it just makes it a little different.
Rather than viewing lack of access to certain destinations as a hindrance, local sommelier, Devon, chooses to look at it with a more positive spin, “The best part about wine, in its most ultimate form, is that it can transport us to places and a time; and hopefully you can share in humanity. It can take us to parts of the world we may never be able to travel to.” A bottle of wine is a time machine–it can connect us to parts of the world we’ll never have access to–and even transport us through history to times we didn’t live in. If we can simply access the wine, we can take a journey through the senses to experience things beyond what our privilege might realistically allow. Many local restaurants offer weekly wine discounts. You can pop into Hoppy Gnome for $15 wine flights on Tuesday, Chance Bar on Wednesday for half-priced bottles, or Copper Spoon on Thursdays for 50% off glasses and 20% off bottles under $100. If restaurant markups and being in public aren’t your bag, you can head to Wine Time to purchase from a selection of thoughtfully curated bottles that you can drink from the comfort of your own sofa. There are so many opportunities to drink more–which means, ultimately, you’re learning more.
When it comes to privilege and wine, vegan wine influencer Alfie Jean also finds a sunny side, “The beautiful thing about the wine world is that there is a whole new generation of people, of different cultures, that don’t have powerful family connections, and didn’t attend the best schools. They are thriving on passion and general curiosity of wine. They are putting in the work to make wine more approachable and accessible to all. Moving away from classic wine communication and creating something new–something that is community minded, and ethically and environmentally conscious.”
You, too, can be part of the new-age wine sippers–and you don’t have to purchase a $500 master wine aroma kit to be part of the crew. (That’s right: the gatekeepers even made sure that the tools to learn about wine are out of most people’s price range.) Here’s your cheat sheet to help you when identifying the aromas and flavors in a wine. This is obviously an oversimplification: but if you’re starting at a point of knowing very little about wine then this will be the perfect springboard to have you looking like a pro in no time. First, look at the glass of wine in your hand. (If there isn’t one there now, maybe it’s time to give yourself a little treat.) When you sniff or sip that wine, the first thing I want you to start thinking about is fruit. If you’re sipping a red wine, let your brain wander to black fruits, like currants and blackberries; or red fruits, like strawberries and raspberries. If the wine is white, think about stone fruit, like peaches; tree fruits, like green apples and pears; or citrus, like lemon and pink grapefruit. After you think about fruit, let your mind wander to other categories of sense memories you may already hold. Are there spices, like black pepper or star anise? Any floral notes, like honeysuckle or lavender? Perhaps there are herbal notes, like rosemary, fennel, or oregano. Think about things you’ve smelled but not tasted: a forest floor, leather, grass, gasoline, a barnyard, wet rocks from a river, a stinky diaper–does your wine give any of these vibes? If your wine is oaked, you’re almost certain to experience something like vanilla, clove, smoke, or even coconut. Think of smells and flavors as falling into categories and then run through those categories in your mind like a mental game of Guess Who. Just think your own thoughts and draw from your own experiences.
"If I taste strawberries in a wine, I’ll say so. But if it tastes more like a Strawberry Jolly Rancher to me, I’ll say that instead."
I’m entering an era in my wine journey where I’m no longer afraid to just say what I smell or taste. If I taste strawberries in a wine, I’ll say so. But if it tastes more like a Strawberry Jolly Rancher to me, I’ll say that instead. Using your own personal experiences and frame of reference to describe wine only makes for better conversations! Ultimately, if we accept a wider array of ‘correct answers’ when it comes to what’s going on in your glass of wine, we’re making discussions about wine more accessible. Conversations where we all say the same things, agree on all aspects, and kowtow to whoever shouts the loudest aren’t fun–and those are the conversations that have been rehashed by gatekeeping cishet white men in the wine world for too fucking long now. Privilege and misogyny may have ruled wine culture in the past: but it doesn’t have to be that way forever. I think the best way forward is simply to unapologetically drink what we like, say what we mean without fear of saying the ‘wrong’ thing, and clap-back when we see ‘old-school’ behaviors that shouldn’t be tolerated. You are safe. You have space to learn, grow, and enjoy as you please. Stop apologizing for being you. You are utterly fantastic.
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