Wine

There appears to be an increase of wine drinkers in our neck of the woods: Brunos has doubled the number of bottle facings, the number of wine shops has increased five fold over as many years and I can’t even keep track of the numerous wine distributors! Consumer polls corroborate the evidence; the wine scene is growing in Alabama!

I’m sure those of you who have traveled along the wine path for some time have your share of war stories. The general outline starts with drinking White Zinfandel (Bimbo Juice) or wine coolers to take the edge off of high school-ish exploratory social events. This typically ends with a hook-up or a throw-up… sometimes both.

It takes some longer than others, but eventually we find ourselves leaving the tundra of indistinguishable wines and entering the forest of frightful ones. This transition from mindless alcoholic to well-cultured wine geek is often long and painful, much like a pre-pubescent grappling with boobs, belly hair and slight pitch problem. The following basic wine suggestions won’t give you a full beard or fill out your C-cup, but they’ll cut down on razor nicks and spillage.

Let’s face it; wine pronunciation is difficult. A linguist could injure her tongue in a wine shop. The easiest way to remember words is with rhymes. Riedel is a glass company widely accepted as makers of the best wine glasses. I’ve heard it pronounced many ways, but it rhymes with needle (Riedel-Needle). So when you go to a restaurant or a wine shop, ask if they are serving their wines in Riedel stemware.

If they don’t, make the turd face (described in greater detail below), and gulp it down from the Libby glass. Another tough one is actually a wine region in Oregon called Willamette Valley (many of the domestic Pinot Noirs come from here). Willamette rhymes with dammit! Remember the rhymes, and you will never botch those two.

Many of us pick up wine-speak from our peers. Blame your peers for wearing out the “dry Chardonnay” mannerism. The term dry refers to the amount of residual sugar in a bottle of wine, not the apparent sweetness. The truth is 99 percent of the wines we drink are dry table wines; including Chardonnay (they basically contain around 3 or 4 grams of residual sugar per liter)!

If you want a way to differentiate between wines at a restaurant, a wine shop or a party, ask for a wine that is oaked or unoaked (oak often adds body, adds tannin and softens the mouthfeel). A wine that spends no time in oak barrels will often have a freshness and purity to the fruit flavors. The term “body” refers to the weight of the wine in your mouth. The universally accepted three-tier system for describing wine weight are light, medium and full-bodied. As the average alcohol content in wine continues to creep towards 15 percent, we’ll probably graduate to full, full and fuller bodied.

Save yourself some embarrassment and practice drinking wine without making the “I just ate a turd” face. That is the face people make when they try wine they don’t like. Some people are so good at it that they scrunch their face up before the wine even touches their lips. Then the face can mean that they don’t like the wine or the person who picked it!

I didn’t expect anyone to learn anything from this; they have books for that. Like aloe, this column intends to reduce mental and social scarring by giving you designated vinous rest areas. If some schmuck hassles you on your wine picks, just say “Shut up and fill my Riedel with some ‘Gowurtstromeenear!’” If you don’t care for a wine, say it, don’t display it (the turd face should only be used in the privacy of your own bathroom).

When ordering Chardonnay, denounce all Martini terminology (although olives go quite nicely with Albarino). Worse comes to worst, you can always buy a jug of White Zin for the ride home!

*Lagniappe and the Wineguy do not advocate drinking White Zin during the ride home.

Contact Matt Devan at wineguy@lagniappemobile.com.

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