tasting notes ep.2

Some friends were up from Connecticut this weekend. On Sunday, over pork milanese and penne arrabiata, I opened a bottle of Chilean syrah from my wine fridge. Four of us, noses in our glasses, came up with four different responses. They ran the proverbial gamut from intellectual curiosity to palate pleasing to “what even is this?” Truly the best kind of reaction one hopes to get from opening a bottle of wine.

About a half-hour later, once the first course had been cleared and the second course nearly out of the oven, my friend with the wholly negative reaction announced, having finished the glass, “this wine is actually pretty good!” We laughed and teased about flip-flopping reactions and changes of heart. The meal went on, as did the wine. By the time the dregs were gone, we had all reached happy conclusions about the bottle.

What drives our initial reaction to a new wine? In my last blog post, I wrote about sense-memory and taste. Could it be something in the wine we recognize and do not like - maybe a disfavorite fruit or a spice we can’t stand? Is it the dry-mouth feeling from a particularly acidic wine that turns out palates? The body is not to our liking, or the structure too flabby or terse? Maybe we just “don’t like” that particular grape (full disclosure: I opened and poured without announcing the wine, so a few biases were not in play). 

All the above reasons can be valid, especially in the subjective world of wine. Boldly acidic Zinfandel parches us, while ultra-soft Rhône whites leave us wanting more. One palate craves blueberry and oak, while another tingles for lemon-lime and cut grass. And yet, how can we account for the sea change in opinion that went around the table? 

Ultimately, wine is a dynamic thing. It changes based on temperature, pressure, air, and humidity. I came into the wine industry with a love for aged Bordeaux. If you’ve never opened a 20+ year-old Bordeaux, its first impression is like face-planting into a mud puddle. And then, about thirty minutes later, it turns into a beautiful mixture of fruit and dirt and ether. You would be forgiven for thinking a switch had been made. 


All wines change from opening aroma to final taste. What turns you off about a wine in its first moments may disappear and be replaced by a brand new sensation. Funky fermented notes become ripe fruits. Brash spices transform into soft tannins. Bitter cherries taste sweet as pie. 

Wine can be just like the weather here in Boston: wait fifteen minutes and something different just might come along.

-Eric

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