The language of wine…(a philosophy)
Learning about wine is like learning a new language. In a literal sense, you need to understand a wine label, no matter where it comes from. It is our duty as professionals to give consumers the tools to decode these labels. In this way, it becomes a vocabulary lesson: the German word trocken means “dry,” just as the French word sec does—and so on. This is easy, although daunting.
The other language we have to learn is wine descriptions. You know what I mean—words like tannic, tart, grippy, round, sharp, coarse, fruit character, earthy, savory—you get the idea. Professionals can speak this language and understand each other without even tasting the wine. However, when speaking this language with consumers, there is a barrier. It’s like visiting another country and learning just enough of the language to say “hello,” “goodbye,” and “where is the bathroom?”. It’s enough to get around, but not to enjoy a conversation with a local. In this way, it is up to professionals to try and teach the language, but oftentimes I hear professionals try to correct the use of a word and it ends up coming across as demeaning and belittling. So, why can’t we meet them halfway? People use the words they know. Rather than reacting by trying to “fix” the use of a word, could we instead translate it for ourselves—guiding them using their own language, then support our recommendations with our interpretation? Let me give you an example.
The word ‘smooth’ is thrown around a lot—“I like smooth wine”. But wine isn’t technically smooth—it's acidic, tannic, complex, and it challenges your palate with every sip. For me, I translate the word ‘smooth’ to ‘balanced’. A balanced wine has all of its elements in line. The acidity makes your mouth water as the tannin dries out your mouth, the alcohol doesn't overwhelm your palate, but has enough viscosity for a medium body, fruit tones are ripe, and it finishes clean. With this in hand, I will recommend wines that fall in this category and finish by stating that “a smooth wine is a balanced wine”. To me, the word ‘smooth’ translates to ‘balanced’. This “translation” doesn’t reject their word choice, and, hopefully, comes across in a positive light.
Another word that can get mixed up in translation is sweet. The other night, I had a young guest celebrating their birthday. They wanted to try some wine and expressed their enjoyment of ‘sweet’ wine. Unfortunately, we did not have any sweet wine on our ‘by the glass’ list, and they didn’t want a bottle of delicious Massolino Moscato d’Asti. I did not let this deter me. Instead, I told them about a glass of white wine from Paso Robles, California, considered a Rhone style blend predominantly made of Grenache Blanc, and that it had ripe fruit notes—which our brains often equate with sweetness—and a heavier body, meaning more viscosity, which we can also interpret as sweet. They liked the idea, but also inquired about a Grüner Veltliner on our list. I explained that it would be a totally different experience: light, crisp acidity with tart citrus notes—the opposite of what I’d recommend to someone asking for a sweet wine. I decided to bring a taste of both, and I placed the wine in front of them blind. I left the table and let them taste and confer with the rest of the table. To my surprise, the wine chosen was the Grüner Veltliner! So, I took the opportunity, now that the table had warmed up to my presence, to reiterate that these are not sweet wines and how to describe the wine that was chosen so they could get a similar experience in the future. The evening finished with the same person wanting to try a dessert wine, which allowed me to bring the conversation full circle, from a tart, refreshing, dry white wine, to a quality, sweet Sauternes.
Ultimately, it’s up to us as professionals to translate and teach the language of wine. The more approachable we make it, the easier our jobs will become. We need to create spaces for people to explore without the belittlement and reduction of those who are simply speaking a different language.