FFWD Weekly
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Booze by Geoff Last I consider myself very lucky. It took 20 years, but I found a job that allows me to indulge, on a daily basis, in the appreciation of wine. What’s more, I get to do so in comfortable surroundings and with the finest group of people one could hope to work with, which is of paramount importance, as the appreciation of wine is not intended to be a solitary pleasure. It’s sort of like sex. You can have it by yourself, but it is usually more interesting when someone else is involved. It is for this reason that I find myself constantly berating the practice of rating wine on a 100-point scale. Can anyone imagine rating sex the way a magazine rates wine? "Wow, honey, that was great, I think I’ll give that an 89. I was pushing for a 90, but I lost my concentration when I noticed the cat was watching." Do the pleasures in life really deserve to be treated like a math exam? It is unfortunate that the profession of wine retailing has been forced to utilize the point system as a tool to sell wine, but that has become the reality. Consumers feel better about a purchase when they are aware that a major publication, like the Wine Spectator, has praised it with a 90-plus rating. There are now a number of restaurants that publish Wine Spectator scores on their wine lists, a controversial practice that is intended to instill confidence in consumers who are spending upwards of $50 on a bottle of wine. Bear in mind that wine scores are nothing more than the opinions of a small group of individuals, sitting around in a room and asessing wine on what they consider to be its technical merits. They are rarely tasting the wine with the type of food it was intended for, which is unfortunate, as so many wines really come into their own when paired with the right meal. Like so many others in the wine trade, my most memorable wine experiences have been attributed more to the company and the setting in which the wines were enjoyed, rather than the price of the bottle. A bottle of cheap, crisp white wine (probably from the obscure falanghina grape) that my wife and I drank on the island of Capri tasted like heaven served alongside a plate of simple ricotta-filled ravioli, the air thick with the scent of the eucalyptus and lemon trees growing in the restaurant’s backyard. On another occasion a bottle of $15 zinfandel that was shared with a couple of friends in the Kananaskis back country tasted like nectar of the gods, despite the fact that it had just undergone a thorough shaking-up on the back of a mountain bike for five hours, and was paired with a bowl of reconstituted gruel. And so it goes. That’s not to say that a poorly made wine will ever be anything more than just that, but only that the wines that most of us drink on a regular basis (that usually receive ratings between 75 to 85 points) can rise above their vocation under the right circumstances. For example, a criticism I often hear directed towards wines from Italy’s Chianti region is that some people find them too acidic. It is important to understand that the acidic component of a wine can taste much different when matched with foods that are also high in acid, such as tomatoes. Indeed, many of the wines of Chianti rely on their acidity to give their wines longevity, whereas those of Bordeaux or Napa Valley tend to rely more on tannic structure for long-term aging. By contrast, a young wine with a tough, tannic structure can be tamed by pairing it with robust foods, such as roast lamb or wild game. Describing a wine’s charms (or faults) these days tends – more often than not – to lead to hyperbole, allowing the media to run amok with descriptors and technical analysis. Does anyone really need to give a shit about phenolics, thermovinification or canopy density? These are the concerns of the winemaker, and while the understanding of these things will be of interest to some, most of us just want to know that the contents of the bottle will go well with Sunday night’s dinner. Ultimately, enjoying and appreciating wine is a subjective process, especially when you consider that a human’s palate is in a constant state of change throughout our development. Remember how awful vegetables tasted when you were 10? At that age I could count the foods I would eat on one hand, whereas I now find myself craving raw fish, bitter salad greens and fiery pepper sauces that burn my insides and cause me to break out in a sweat. So the next time your favourite wine gets dumped on by the "Wine Dictator" or Robert Parker, feel free to get out your marking pen and make the necessary corrections because, after all, the best wines are the ones you like, and don’t let anyone tell you different. Cheers!

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