By Jamie Gabrini, Special Columnist
I’m sick of wine.
I don’t quite know how this happened, but it’s true. At some point during the past year, I lost interest in wine and – quite frankly – don’t give a fig anymore. Or at least at the moment.
I certainly have not been in wine all that long. I think it’s been five years now since I decided that Chateauneuf-du-Pape was heaven in a glass and that I simply could not live another day unless I worked in wine.
In hindsight, I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe my ego would not permit me to linger in the ‘wine lover’ margins; I’d grown to lament feeling like an ignorant git when I’d go into a local wine shop and not know what 80% of the wines were. French wines – despite my linguistic background – remained a complete mystery beyond knowing what ‘rouge’ and ‘blanc’ meant. Germans were thankfully not a concern as I never was a fan of riesling, even though I didn’t even know what that meant at the time. Chiantis were easy enough to know, as were Riojas, but beyond that, I didn’t even attempt to remember all of the intricacies of European wines. Like many before and since, I determined that the best and most serious wines were BIG REDS and wanted to learn more from there.
Enter my tenure at Chambers Street. I distinctly remember nearly spitting out my five-dollar-Tribeca-bought chai tea in horror when a colleague professed her love of Beaujolais. This moment should’ve been immediately followed by a healthy serving of humble pie (which, if bought in the neighborhood, would have no doubt been handcrafted with artisanal humility and set me back a ten spot) as it dawned on me that she was not alone. At Chambers Street, I was able to enter the hallowed halls of wine knowledge, and now, I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing.
Picture, if you will, a wine store. Most people have an idea of what they like in general – merlot or pinot grigio, for example – and they’re content to buy within their comfort zone, or to work with a wine-savvy worker to discover something new. I go in and I’ll know just about every wine on the racks or – in better shops – I’ll at least have a good handle on the region/grape and can take a stab at how the vintage was and how it’s holding up. I’ve even gotten to the point where I’ve tasted at a vertical at an unknown Canadian winery and plucked out the rainy vintages without hesitation. Sure, it’s a cool parlor trick, but does anyone really need to be able to do this?
I suppose the major reason I’m feeling so jaded is that the mystery has gone out of wine for me. I miss sipping one of those big reds and enjoying the rich sensuality filling my mouth and the tinges of heady intoxication setting in. Instead, I’ll scan a wine list, knowing damn well that I’ll be underwhelmed by just about anything on there, but I’ll order a glass anyway and search like hell to find anything other than toasty vanilla/cherry cola/smoky chocolate notes in there. And those notes won’t be there. And it’ll be too warm anyway. But I’ll drink it anyway since I’m paying far more than it cost and call it a night. It’s worse when I’m out with non-wine people because it’ll be assumed that I can get the best wine in the world for them. Not having created the wine list, I don’t want the responsibility of having to find that unicorn, nor do I want to pretend to really like something that is crap just so that I don’t appear to be the jaded snob that I am.
Give me a bourbon. And let’s hope this bitchy bout of bitter passes before I find myself unemployed. (But make it a Hudson Baby Bourbon… because apparently, this snobbishness is deeply engrained…)
My experience with wine is the more I know the more I find I don't know and reaching for more and more knowledge has kept me fascinated for over three decades now. I'll admit that I'm an extreme case and that led me to change careers and become a winemaker and winegrower, a change that opened a whole new world of information to me. For example, last weekend I spent several hours fascinated by a college professor explaining his research on the mites attacking our vines; that's extreme.
If anything, the mystery of wine has grown for me with each passing vintage.
Posted by: Craig Camp | February 20, 2008 at 10:22 AM
Hi. I do understand where you're coming from, but I am still in the wide-eyed phase of my wine journey. Lots of this made me respond with a sympathetic chuckle, though.
These things are usually cyclical. One day soon you'll stop wanting to order the Bourbon and you'll be right back with the CdP...
The one thing we're on total agreement with is the restaurant wine list dilemma. Most are awful, thoughtless, or designed to gouge. It's very frustrating buying wine at a restaurant when you know the wholesale cost, can determine mark-ups, see that a restaurant purchased something solely because it was on close-out, or can tell that the restaurant is lazy and just buys whatever the one supplier they're willing to meet with pushes on them. My solution? BYO and pay corkage. It usually ends up a better deal and a better experience.
But it does remain exciting to me to find a wine list that is thoughtful, and I'm willing to pay the price when this occurs. If somebody has taken the time to really develop a wine program that shows either a depth of knowledge or great love and curiosity for wine, I get downright excited.
Posted by: Jill | February 20, 2008 at 12:09 PM
Yes, the romance of the wine business can be elusive once fully enmeshed in its hardships. But every harvest for me, it renews. It will come back for you. It will take one glass of heaven and you'll have another A-HA moment and you'll be back...you WILL.
Posted by: Noble Pig | February 20, 2008 at 02:21 PM
I know, I'm just being cranky. I hope. Thanks for the 'chin-ups, kid', though...
Posted by: Jay | February 20, 2008 at 07:15 PM
Well, I thank you for having the guts to post something that others might banish to the 'super-secret thoughts' category. I haven't reached your level of wine knowledge but, I do find myself feeling shall we say--over-saturated--from time to time. I often require periods to 'dry out' and get rid of the lingering 3-day 'finish' in the back of my throat, and to get back to a place where smelling someone else's glass of wine in the vicinity doesn't induce visions of dead fruit-flies floating in glass of warm day-old wine.
But, as others have pointed out, I'm sure your wine malaise will pass.
Posted by: Taster B | February 24, 2008 at 01:31 PM