This post is another chapter from my new book, “Strong Water: On Food, Wine, and Restaurants.” It’s a collection of essays written over the last ten-plus years that will be published this fall. One of the sections in the book is titled “humor.” As I mention below, this particular chapter contains sarcasm, droll humor, parody, and otherwise snarky commentary. You have been warned.
“A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.”
Shakespeare from Twelfth Night
Some years ago, I interviewed Yosh Han, an internationally known custom perfumer. Like previous interviews with wine industry colleagues, I wanted to deconstruct Yosh’s internal strategies for olfactory memory given that the range of possible aromas for perfume is exponentially greater than wine. I wasn’t surprised to discover that Yosh’s strategies for remembering aromas were entirely based on visual, and also similar to those of most of the wine professionals I’d interviewed.
During a second session, Yosh helped me create my own personal scent. We started with more than 50 vials of different aromas. Over several rounds, I narrowed down my favorites to just seven: peppermint, rosemary, violet, waves (marine note), aloe, night queen (jasmine), teak, and something called washed suede. Yosh then blended them and tweaked the percentages until we both liked the results. The final scent, at least according to Carla who knows infinitely more about perfumes and essential oils than I ever will, is a unisex scent that could be worn by either men or women. For the record, she likes it too.
Afterwards, I asked Yosh what aromas she likes best and which were her favorites. I wasn’t surprised to hear her say that she likes practically everything so long as it’s of high quality. She then asked me what kinds of wines I liked best. I had to give the same answer. I like practically any style of wine as long as it’s balanced and well-made. But that hasn’t always been the case. And that got me thinking about how my tastes in wine—my likes and dislikes—have changed over the last 30-plus years. It also made me ponder how one’s palate undergoes an evolution of sorts over time. With that in mind, here’s a completely un-researched, undocumented, and otherwise reckless account of the evolution of a palate.
WARNING: The following contains elements of sarcasm, droll humor, parody, and otherwise snarky commentary.
Phase I: Katy Perry
Wine as liquid confection—The wines from Phase I are slightly-to-moderately sweet in style. In the recent past we’ve had Muscat in all its various forms, as well as the category of sweet red wines. Both initially left the industry scratching its collective head while scrambling to get tanks filled and labels designed to be commercially appealing.
It seems as if every generation finds a way to give itself permission to drink fruity and slightly sweet wines. The Moscato/sweet red thing is no exception. That’s because most of us, self-included, started in the way back machine of our wine careers by initially drinking wines that were off-dry to medium sweet, and hopefully balanced with enough acidity so as not to resemble, well … Katy Perry. For me, those came in the form of Lancer’s and Mateus rosés, odd vinous creatures called “wine coolers,” and the likes of Blue Nun, Reunite Lambrusco, and White Zinfandel. Not surprisingly, most were mass-market brands produced by entities possessing the mega-funds to promote on TV and in print media. Don’t get me wrong, everyone has to start somewhere. Ultimately though, one hopes that the Katy Perry crowd moves on to at least Phase II. But if they don’t, it’s all good. No harm, no foul.
Phase II: smooth jazz
Once upon a time, we had MUZAK, a style of music comprising perfectly played but completely bland renditions of popular showtunes and top 40 hits. One would hear MUZAK in elevators, at shopping malls, and in dental offices. Today we have “Smooth Jazz,” an idiom that once again features immaculate playing by top studio musicians performing a wide range of jazz-arranged tunes in state-of-the-art sound. We also have Smooth Jazz in the wine world: it’s called Chardonnay, and it defines the second phase of palate evolution. During Phase II, novice drinkers graduate from innocuous, sweet, and mono-chromatic wines to Chardonnay: a full-bodied single varietal white wine with layers of intense fruit and the first taste of new oak, which will likely become the new drug of their personal wine world. Inhabitants of Phase II often become interested in what they’re eating in terms of quality. This despite the fact that they will consume mass quantities of Chardonnay with any and everything, including red meat. Eventually, many in the Phase II club will crave even more intensity and then discover red wines. Then, like every toddler boy who first learns to walk, they won’t walk but will instead race full-bore, pell-mell, directly into …. Cabernet Sauvignon.
Phase III: monster truck pull
Having developed a serious oak habit, wine now becomes a full contact sport for newly minted members of Phase III. More often than not, it’s a guy thing. No, make that a group of guys thing. As in a group of guys in the backyard having just consumed half a grilled steer and the better part of a case of very expensive Cabernet. Now they’re moving on to cigars, Port, and the inevitable and emotionally awkward, “I love you, man” bro moment. For denizens of Phase III, a wine that doesn’t have 15-plus percent alcohol is not wine. They tend to eat lots of red meat and often develop a serious fortified wine habit because, after all, Port is really loud wine too. Needless to say, the hangovers experienced by Phase III members can be legendary. The discovery of amaro (Italian bitters liqueur) is therefore common in this phase and often a medical necessity. I discovered Fernet Branca while in Phase III and it saved my life on one such occasion. Alas, parenthood and advancing age can take their toll on members of Phase III. But a certain percentage of them experience a life-altering vinous moment at some point and move quietly into Phase IV.
Phase IV: oh blinding light
During Phase IV, the wine drinker moves from full contact to nuance because of a beautiful-sadness-of-life moment, usually in the form of a great bottle of Burgundy. Instantly, wine goes from collision to filigree, and with this blinding light moment often comes the realization that the “where” of a wine can be more important than anything else. Such mystical moments sometimes occur while traveling to so-called sacred vinous environs such as Burgundy, Jerez, and the Mosel. Initiates of Phase IV also cross an invisible line from “eat to live” to “live to eat.” Planning dinner while having lunch is a common affliction. Potential downsides to Phase IV often involve becoming a hopeless and insufferable Francophile snob, with the victim never returning to a balanced vinous state. Extreme cases involve joining various wine societies or clubs that require secret handshakes, wearing pastel sashes with medals and ribbons, and even—God forbid—the donning of long Obi Wan-like robes. With their recent spiritual conversion, Phase IV rangers are notorious for demeaning big-ass Cabernets—the same big-ass Cabernets they were only recently hoovering at an alarming rate. Further, they may take to condemning any wine for having too much alcohol or for not being authentic, whatever that means.
Phase V: it’s a small world
Phase V is really an extension of Phase IV. Here the individual has their first great Riesling experience, and with it the blinding realization that wines with residual sugar can be cosmic—as great as any wines on the planet. Moreover, these same delicate, slightly sweet, and acid-crazy bottlings are among the most versatile food wines that exist. Phase V regulars often drink more white wines than red and crave what is, in reality, insane levels of minerality and acidity regardless of what’s in the glass. But they also “get” simply made country wines with the right intensity of fruit and a good acid balance (that acid thing again). And if they haven’t discovered Champagne and top-quality sparkling wines (think Franciacorta) in Phase IV, they do so with a vengeance in Phase V. Italy looms large for red wines in Phase V because of the acid/minerality thing. Oddly enough, Phase V’ers will put up with higher levels of VA and Brett to get their fix.
Phase VI: even the Irish
The title for this phase comes from the brilliant Mel Brooks movie Blazing Saddles, one of my three all-time favorite movies. Those who make it to Phase VI have traveled full circle in palate evolution in that they like practically every kind of wine as long as it’s well made: from bone dry and austere VORS Palo Cortado Sherries, to pyrazenic Coonawarra Cabernets, to VA-laced old-school Barolo, to decadently succulent TBAs from Austria or Germany. Everything. As Mayor Olson Johnson of Rock Ridge once did say, “Aw, prairie s**t. Everybody!”
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