I took a class from Karen MacNeil almost a year ago in Napa called "Mastering Wine". It focused on the classic red and white varietals, and about wine production. We spent hours in a classroom tasting and comparing, driving into our memories the classic characteristics of each varietal, so that ultimately we could identify them in a blind tasting. Sounds great, but when you're actually on hour five of the day we talk about and taste Sauvignon Blanc, hearing "citrus, grass, floral, light bodied, blah blah blah", you could just stab yourself with a pen to relieve yourself of the boredom. Additionally, you've made no connection with the wine. There's nothing that stands out to make you remember it. During my class, Karen must've been ready to stab herself listening to students droning on and on about body, oak, acidity, tannins, sweetness, intensity and complexity, too. She suggested that we find ways to connect the wine to a memory in order to remember it. I already had unorthodox ways to describe wine and remember it. It was a practice that I had tried to keep under wraps except in the company of those who know me and expect me to be unorthodox. I doubt my boss, Kirk, would want to hear about my picking up " a freshly burned bowl of the sticky green" in a Pinot Noir. But here was Karen, the author of the Wine Bible and Kirk's mentor, telling us that it was okay! So now I'll describe a wine to a guest or a friend as I feel it. The Tormaresca Torcicoda Primitivo is reminiscent of a brandy soaked plummy, spice cake that my British friends shared with me at Christmas time, or my grandma's homemade ginger bread. The Ken Wright Pinot Blanc reminds me of my grandpa's favorite dessert of fresh strawberries dipped in sour cream and then brown sugar. And the Copain Pinot Noir from the Anderson Valley has aromatics of freshly burned bowl. Don't worry. I'm careful with that one!
