Yep, that’s me. But I can not let today go unmentioned. It’s Beaujolais Nouveau day. It may not be prestigious. It may not be de rigeur, but it’s a fun tradition in a stuffy industry and a tradition I happen to enjoy. It’s a tradition that eschews the pompous (albeit necessary) talk of cellaring and maturing. It goes against everything ‘the establishment’ would have you believe.

For the uninitiated, Beaujolais Nouveau is an annual event. It signals the first new wine of the year. Pretty much, ‘straight off the vine’, this wine is young and typically fruity. Made from Gamay, these grapes were still on the vine as recently as 2 months ago! It’s made to drink immediately. It won’t hold up for cellaring. It’s not meant to. Although it does pair rather well with turkey. It’s fun, frivolous and fanciful. Just like me!

You bring feeling to my life, you’re the inspiration.

Now that I have a hokey 80′s ballad stuck in your head, let’s find out what I’m talking about.

Over the years I have consumed a lot of wine. I’ve written a lot about wine. So every now and then I need something or somebody to give me a kick start. Which is why I asked for input on my facebook page. I can honestly say that you guys came through. I am truly inspired. I can’t answer everything in one post, so here begins a series. Feel free to send me more questions and more ideas. I will try to answer all questions as soon as I remove my tongue from my cheek!

Today: Decanting/Aerating. Why bother? Well right now I’m drinking a Washington State Gewurztraminer. It’s a young white wine that is fresh and light. There is no sediment and it isn’t ‘closed’. It is a truly ready-to-drink, straight from the fridge kind of wine. It won’t benefit from aging and does not have that potential. But that doesn’t mean that young wines can’t benefit from decanting. So how do you know when and why?

Many older wines will throw a sediment. Older practices and lack of filtration caused solids to form in the bottle. It’s not pretty and it doesn’t taste good. I equate it with drinking tea leaves. It’s a natural process but rather unsavory. The process of decanting removes this sediment and will enhance your wine drinking experience. (Did that sound snooty? Forgive me, I lapse into winespeak once in a blue moon.) Decanting over a bright light improves the removal of sediment, because you can see what you are doing!

Younger wines throw less sediment, if any, because methods have changed and fining agents have improved. But a young red can often be tight. Define tight. Well, it’s when you have a big blustery red wine thatjust doesn’t release its full flavor or aroma. It’s holding its breath. It has been trapped inside that bottle and just lacks that je ne sais quoi. Decanting it will introduce air into the mixture and allow it to open up. It will breathe again. Try holding your breathe and see how much better you feel when you allow yourself to breathe again.

For the record, you don’t need a fancy crystal decanter. Aerating can be done from one bottle to another. You can buy fancy aerating spouts. But I prefer to keep an empty bottle handy.

Now, can somebody tell me why the Olsen twins bear an uncanny resemblance to Peter Cetera?

3 Random Winners are: Mindy Hibbs, Jennifer Schill O’Hara and Kerry Day Hicks.

Each of you gets a pair of tickets to the Fredericksburg Wine Festival this weekend from fredericksburg.com. Winners can pick up their passes at our offices – 616 Amelia St. downtown – between 9 and 5.

Congratulations!

Thought that might get your attention!

The Fredericksburg Wine Festival is this weekend at Old Mill Park and what better place to give away tickets than right here.

To enter to win one of three pairs of tickets, simply comment below on this post. Winners will be announced right here on the blog tomorrow.

http://www.fredericksburgwine.com/

If you’re really nice I might come with you!

Not really. Great song though. Etta James’ version is spine-tingling. Sorry, back to wine.

I love blind tastings. They are so revealing. So much so, that some people have reacted with great consternation when they discover they have a $10 palate. Personally, I think a $10 palate is a good thing. There are enough wines in the $10 range to keep me very happy for a long time. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy a $50 bottle, a hundred dollar bottle, and I’ve gone way higher. But I don’t drink those wines on a regular basis. Not only can I not afford it, but I wouldn’t want to. I’m way too frugal. I could probably live for a while on a diet of lobster and asparagus. But eventually I’d get bored. I’d want a juicy burger.

But what does all this have to do with the price of fish, er, I mean, wine?

Like I said, I’m frugal. So why would I spend $100 on something when I’m going to be satisfied with a $10 equivalent? But am I? Technically, shouldn’t something priced at $100 be exponentially 10 times better than it’s $10 equivalent? Don’t go poking holes in my math. This is my wine blurb.

Well study after study has shown us that the ‘average’ (such a dubious word), but the average palate cannot discern the price of a bottle of wine. A group of wine economists (yes, there is such a group, and a very talented group they are) conducted an interesting study in 2008. The conclusion they reached, which nobody is claiming to be scientific is: “Individuals who are unaware of the price do not derive more enjoyment from more expensive wine. “
The general outcome shows: “Our results indicate that both the prices of wines and wine recommendations by experts may be poor guides for non-expert wine consumers.”

Now, I have no doubt that there are people whose palate is trained and honed to be able to discern a Lafite from a Latour. Actually, that shouldn’t be terribly difficult depending on the vintage. But you catch my drift. The interesting thing is that although people can tell the difference, they may not always be able to discern the more expensive wine. I like the outcome of this study. That may simply because I’m cheap. No, frugal, that’s right, I’m frugal.

If you want to read more, the study can be found online here.

Didn’t think so!

Excuse my absence. I’ve been taming bears and trying to find my way out of Glue Stick Mountain. Most parents are familiar with it. It’s just around the corner from Composition Book Avenue and a stones throw away from Index Card Boulevard . I’ve been busy. But the kids are back at school and I now have 247 #2 pencils, so I can write again!

Pencils were what motivated me this morning. The taste of them, along with a question from a friend. What things should wine NOT taste of? Is the aroma of pencil shavings a desirable quality? Why would anybody drink a wine that tastes of bricks or armpits?

Okay, first of all, if anybody offers you wine that tastes of armpits, pour it out. But the pressing question I would like answered is “How do you know what armpits taste like?” My 12 year old son assures me that this is something I should know! I’ll simply take his word for it.

But seriously folks, with some of the descriptions on tasting notes it’s a wonder some wines sell at all. Are people really attracted by wine writer meanderings like ‘reminiscences of barnyard’ or ‘hints of fishbowl’? Well apparently plenty of people are, but what does it really mean? The first thing you should remember is that tasting notes are essentially subjective. If you tell me that a wine has hints of banana and kiwi while I thinks it tastes more of butter and apricots which one of us is wrong? I prefer tasting notes to be evocative rather than literal. While general opinions may be formed and agreed upon, if you think you taste banana, I cannot possibly tell you that you don’t. Your palate is unique. Second, before I am accused of waxing too lyrical and leaving out the scientific doodads, you need to remember that taste and smell are so deeply intertwined. The tongue generally recognizes only four tastes: bitter, sour, salty and sweet. One should note that these sensations are not, as is often believed, divided into particular parts of the tongue. The bulk of the work, nevertheless, is done by the nose. Try taking part in a tasting of anything when you have stuffy nose. It’s a complete waste of time. Which is why leather can be attractive in a wine. The smell of new leather is irresistible. But does it taste good? I doubt it. So when you read that a wine has hints of leather it doesn’t mean that the wine tastes literally of leather. Unless your tasting notes were written by Hannibal Lecter. If a wine is described as ‘barnyard’, try thinking of freshly stacked hay, rather than cow dung.

You might still want to steer clear of any wine that is described as sulfuric, vinegary or has hints of ammonia. But give ‘barnyard’ a try some time. The jury is still out on ‘fishbowl’.

Don’t box me in. It’s in the bag! Can you stand anymore? Sorry, now I’ve purged myself of all these dreadful puns I shall tell you what I ‘m here for. Um, wait, why am I here? Oh yes, we were talking about wine, weren’t we?

I often hear people talk with some embarrassment about how they drink ‘screw top wine’ or ‘wine-in-a-box’. They’ll talk in hushed tones about their purchase of a gallon jug like they’ve just committed a deadly sin. Why do people feel so self-conscious when it comes to wine? Personally I don’t mind if you drink it straight from the barrel.

But the question remains, can you buy ‘decent’ wine in a box. My response? “Sure, just don’t expect to keep it long term!” Can you buy fine wine in a box? “No.” There is a reason that the majority of wine, and all ageable wines come in a bottle. Time and time and lots of research has proven that there is nothing that can beat the long term storage option of glass. Will that ever change? Who knows, but for the meantime, we know that glass is the best option. As far as bottle closures are concerned, that’s a matter still up for much debate. Time and science may give us an answer, but for now, I’ll go with cork for fine wines, even if it is a coin toss. I guess there’s still a bit of traditionalist left in me. But not all wine you buy is for collecting. At least, in my opinion, if you only buy to collect you’re missing out on the best part.

You’re organising a party (no, I wasn’t invited but we’ll discuss that later). You have at least 100 people attending and your budget is limited. Obviously you’re not going to be buying Screaming Eagle (the inspiration for Angry Birds?), but you don’t want to look foolish or unsophisticated (oh, the horror, she served Boone’s Farm)! You run the risk of running into a wine snob or two, but heck, they’re all so easily offended anyway! So don’t dismiss a box-o-wine. Now, there are some basic guidelines. Never buy a box that carries over 3 liters. 3-liter boxes usually have a mylar liner, and mylar has no more taste transference than glass. Once you get to larger boxes, plastic liners are quite common, and the resulting taste is easily evident. Try to buy from a winery that also produces bottles. You’re more likely to know how it should taste. Finally, do the math. A 3-liter box is the equivalent of 4 standard 750ml bottles. Don’t assume that the box is always cheaper than the bottle. Now that more premium wine makers are attempting to shed the shackles of poor imagery the chances of finding a decent box are increasing, but at a price. Which leads to another reason for trying the box. It’s definitely not always more cost effective, but there are other virtues. Try taking four glass bottles on a camping trip. If you haven’t purchased screw cap wines you also have to pack a corkscrew. A box makes sense. Another virtue of boxes is that you can open one and keep it in the fridge. If you just want to have a glass with dinner you don’t have to worry about vacuuming, or preserving. It’s there, ready for the next glass.

I’m not eschewing the bottle. But it’s worthwhile to think outside the box. Or inside the box. Um, you catch my drift. Nevermind, let’s talk about that invitation I didn’t receive.

Pink, blush, rosé, rosado, rosato. Despite what my husband may tell you, none of these wines are made by mixing red wine and white wine (except for rare cases but we won’t go there). Blush is a term typically used for domestic pink wines, but for my purposes, I shall use the word ‘pink’ to encompass all pink wines. Made using red grapes which maintain contact with skin, or by ‘bleeding’ the juice of unfermented red grapes, pink is every bit as important as red or white.

No longer the domain of elderly relatives and coming-of-age parties in packed Mediterranean night clubs, pink wine has come into it’s own. Dry, sweet, full-bodied, light, or bubbly, there is a respectable pink wine for everybody.

Chances are, if you walk into your grocery store, you will find a section of pink wines. Even greater chances are that most of those pink wines are a California creation labelled White Zinfandel. White Zin is a sweet, innocuous, inexpensive, generally mass-produced accident. First bottled in 1972, it has gone on to become one of the best selling varietals in the U.S. It’s a great ‘gateway’ wine, and can be credited with introducing millions of people to the otherwise unapproachable world of wine.

But don’t be fooled. The success of White Zin has come at a price. It has unfortunately caused many to assume that pink equates to sweet, and for some this is not very appealing. Many people mistakenly assume that quality wine should not be sweet. Astonishingly there are some, who think that all ‘serious’ wine should be red. “Not so!” I holler from my soap-box. In fact, Michael Broadbent MW, one of, if not the greatest authorities on wine in the whole wide world cut his teeth on sweet wines. And some of the most illustrious and sought after wines in the world are sweet enough to put a smile on the most sour of faces. Trust me, I’ve tried it with my husband!

Back to pink stuff. Please don’t think that pink is synonymous with sweet. I cannot think pink without mentioning Tavel, a dry wine from the southern Rhone, France. Made mainly from Grenache and Cinsault, it is full-bodied and powerful. Random fact: all wine made in Tavel is pink. Spain also produces some wonderful pink wines (rosado) which are a great match for a plate of paella, and pink Cava is to-die-for! Italian pinks (rosato) tend to be, in my opinion, more floral and fruity. But pink wine is not the exclusive domain of the old world. These days you can find some stunning pink wines from South Africa, Australia, Chile, Argentina and more recently, Washington State and Oregon.

So venture outside of your comfort zone. Try something different. Head for the pink zone and I promise not to call you girly!

I grew up believing that all of life’s problems could be solved with a cup of tea. Forgot to pay the gas bill? Have a cup of tea. Neighbor’s dog died? Have a cup of tea. Severed your limbs and you’re losing blood by the gallon? Have a cup of tea. There is nothing that a cup of tea can’t fix. If you think I’m exaggerating you never met my mum! But this is not a tea blog and I’m not in Blighty anymore. So what does one do when the proverbial hits the proverbial? Bubbles! Repeat after me, “Bubbles make it better!”

Champagne (a place) is without a doubt the most famous example of bubbles. And rightly so. Much double, double, toil and trouble came to pass to produce that bubble! (Cheers, Bill, for inspiring that sentence!) Thankfully no eye of newt or toe of frog was necessary. But we can indeed thank the French for bringing into being the process used to make bubbly! It was initially by accident, until some genius by the name of Monsieur Chaptal figured out what was causing it, and a Benedictine monk (Dom Perignon, you may have heard of him) perfected it. Now known as the Methode Traditionelle, secondary fermentation takes place in the bottle. Chaptal made some other important discoveries too but I’m not Bill Nye and that story can wait for another day.

I digress (I have a Ph.D. in digressing). Champagne is just one of the regions producing decent bubbly. Cava, from Catalonia, Spain (another place) makes some astonishingly good bubbles. Different grapes, but made using the same method as Champagne, the price tag is significantly lower. Italy tends to use the Charmat method. Secondary fermentation takes place in vats instead of the bottle. The bubbles aren’t as big, but who cares? Asti (yet another place) is one of the names you may recognize, along with Prosecco (not a place)!

Last and least (seriously, it really is the last resort) is the injection method. Quite literally, carbon dioxide is injected into still wine. It’s cheap and cheerful, but the bubbles don’t last long. But if you drink fast, who cares, right? (This statement not evaluated by the FDA).

No matter how, where or by whom it is produced, bubbles with a touch of Creme de Cassis (Chambord if you can afford it), will always make the worst situations feel so much better. Despite what my mum says.

You’re just delving into the world of wine. You’ve tried one or two bottles you really like. You don’t know why. How are you going to find more? Are you going to be left drinking Yellow Tail Chardonnay for the rest of your life? Well, if that is what you want to drink, far be it from me to stop you. If that’s what you really like then go for it. It’s inexpensive and easy to find and reliable, but you will miss out on so much. See, there’s no such thing as drinking the ‘wrong wine’. If you find something you like, then drink away. You won’t offend my sensibilities. I don’t have any!

Fermented grapes have so much to offer. So many varieties, so many labels. It’s easy to get into a rut. It’s easy to get blinded by the apparent clutter. How is one supposed to know what to try? Well, there are no guarantees. If I know what you’ve enjoyed in the past I may be able to recommend a bottle to you. You may like it, but I can’t guarantee you will. Nobody can. Your palate is as unique as your fingerprint. Which is why you should follow the golden rule of wine drinking: Take Notes. (It’s not really the golden rule, I just made that up, but it does help).

When I try a wine for the first time, sometimes even the second or third, just to be sure, I take notes. Nothing grand, just scribbles that help me identify what I do or don’t like. The aromas, the flavors, anything the wine evokes. Does it make me think of summer? Of snuggling by the fireside? Of lazing on the beach? Partying with friends? It’s not scientific. I will note the level of sweetness/dryness. If a wine is particularly acidic or flabby (lacking acidity) that will go in my notes. If it has aromas of grass, or leather, or nutmeg or fishbowls, that all gets noted. Oh, be sure to also write down the name of the wine, otherwise your notes are useless!

Not only does this help me remember what I’ve consumed, but it is also a great learning tool. If you notice that you really like wines that smell like leather (or fishbowls for that matter), you can determine the common factor. You may notice that you tend toward white wines from New Zealand. It could mean that you’ve discovered you really like Sauvignon Blanc. You can then use that knowledge to explore other parts of the world that create great Sauvignon Blanc. The label may not always make it easy for the uninitiated, but the clues are all there. If you’ve amassed a bunch of notes that all contain the word Chablis, a quick hit on Google, or a phone call to your friendly local wine geek, will tell you that you probably have a taste for unoaked Chardonnay. All these notes help to build your taste profile. Knowing what you like is half the battle. It makes that array of bottles so much more approachable.

By the way, if your notes show a tendency towards labels that all say “Lafite”, you’d better make sure I’m on speed-dial.