Since I started working at a winery, I have developed what my
friend, Chris Walker, coined as
”
house mouth
”
– a natural bias to compare all wines to those produced by the
winery where I work.
In one sense, I’m not worried, because I enjoy those wines.
Since I started working at a winery, I have developed what my friend, Chris Walker, coined as “house mouth” – a natural bias to compare all wines to those produced by the winery where I work.
In one sense, I’m not worried, because I enjoy those wines. On the other hand, I have become predictable with the wine I will open for dinner or share with friends, and if there is one thing I do not want to be, it is predictable.
Our lives tend to revolve around certain things that lend comfort and familiarity: the music we listen to, for example, or the television shows we watch, the food we eat or the beverages we consume. Everyone has his or her preferences, but we all could be a bit more adventurous and open to new things.
I rarely listen to my own advice. Although I love all kinds of food, whenever I hit the grocery store my basket always ends up containing the same items, even if I consciously attempt to purchase something new or different.
Another example of this was when I was in Philadelphia about a month ago. A group of us hit the town and ended up at a pub that proudly advertised a selection of more than 400 beers from around the world. We made a pact not to order the same beer twice.
Did I try any of the exotic beers from Thailand, Belgium or New Zealand? Nope, I ordered what I always order: a Guinness. Can you guess what I ordered for the second round? Yep, a Guinness. Nothing changed for me during rounds three through 12 either, but that’s a whole other story!
The day after seeing my first column in print, I raced to my computer to check my e-mail, ready to answer the hundreds of queries and comments I knew were going to be there. The lone e-mail I received was from an individual who shyly admitted to liking white zinfandel.
She mentioned that she was self-conscious about ordering or even being seen in public with a glass of white zinfandel. It is true that white zinfandel does not carry a lot of clout with most aficionados, connoisseurs or oenophiles. (I had to look up the spelling on all these words. Maybe it is these words that intimidate us so much when it comes to drinking wine?)
Give credit where it is deserved. Because of its sweetness and reasonable cost, white zinfandel has often been a launching pad for wine virgins and was probably the most consumed style of wine throughout the ’80s and ’90s. As far as I’m concerned, you should drink whatever brings you joy. For most palates, there are no steadfast rules.
We all know someone close to us who says, “I don’t like white wine,” or “I don’t like red wine.” My question to them is, “What is the setting in which you are drinking the wine?” If you aren’t fond of red wine, is it because of one bad experience years ago? Are you drinking the wine by itself? To garner a greater appreciation for wine, I often suggest that pairing the wine with food or uncorking a bottle on a special occasion with friends can heighten the pleasure factor. Some restaurants offer special dinners that pair each course with a particular wine. This is a great way to introduce new wines into your life.
Thanks to the unlimited expense account that the paper has given me, I am heading to the Bahamas next week to do some research on the burgeoning wine appellation over there. Then, during the next few months, we will begin exploring some wineries, starting with the ones in our own backyard. The nice thing about living in this area is the immense selection of wines that are literally at our fingertips. This wonderful nectar is prevalent everywhere we turn. They say variety is the spice of life, so let’s put this saying to the test.
Cheers!
