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The language of wine

At a wine appreciation event, a woman asked the Frenchman doing the talking why the language of wine was so western. “I can’t associate with many of the adjectives used to describe wine,” she said. “They are all so foreign. 221; She was referring to the expressions used to describe the flavours and aromas of wine, which are often borrowed from the world of fruits, vegetables, spices and herbs.

The world of winespeak is a challenge at the best of times, but it becomes even more daunting when wine is described in unfamiliar terms. It is not unusual for a wine critic, his nose buried in the glass, to detect a trace of carambola, a hint of baked raspberry, an overlay of truffle and possibly the faintest flutter of liquorice.

Wine adjectives also span the world of flowers, tobacco and earth (for instance, “forest floor” and “dried leaves”), but that’s not all. Wine critics pose further mysteries by likening wines to such things as wet dog (which is always bad) and cat’s pee (which, surprise, can be a good thing). And Brett, which stands for a wild yeast that infects wine, can give it a barnyard odour, a nuance of “sweaty saddle” or “horse manure” that some actually seek out in their wines. The world of winespeak is hard to come to terms with. One the one hand, it is clear that much of it is overwritten and hyper-fermented, written in prose that is even more purple than a full-bodied Cab. But is also a wonderful thing that fermented grape juice could have produced such a rich body of literature, created such a mystique.

At the risk of offending members of some stodgy single malt club, these whiskeys — despite the hype around them — do not lend themselves to true flights of imaginative fancy. Take out peaty, smoky, nutty, chocolate and honey from the adjective list and you will struggle to describe your glass of distilled malted barley — be it a regular Glenfiddich or some exotic excess from one of its rare collections. The great thing about wine is that it evokes comparisons with such things as gender, people, music and art in a completely natural and convincing way. Anyone who has had a heavily-oaked Chardonnay — with its soft, well-rounded, full-bodied character and its flavours of butterscotch and vanilla — will tell you the wine is feminine. If it’s often compared to Marilyn Monroe, it’s not hard to see why.

In the same vein, Riesling and Pinot Noir are clearly feminine too. To my mind, the first with its fresh, crisp and citrus notes invariably evokes the innocence of Natassja Kinski in Polanski’s “Tess”. And as for the “heartbreak grape”, Pinot Noir — with its fickle allure — can be changeable, varying between reticent sensual appeal and raw sexual allure. In contrast, the Barolo is distinctly masculine — dependable in a somewhat stodgy but reassuring way. Good-looking middle-aged banker in dark suit who is a good bet to invest money with? Definitely.

As for music and art, I will stop with recommending Jay McInerney — one of the finest contemporary writers I have read. Comparing one vintage to Mozart or another to an Andy Warhol painting may seem an exercise in vain and self-obsessed futility, but McInerney, whose powers of observation are incredibly sharp and whose erudition is first-rate, has that rare ability to expand perceptions and make connections between things you never expected.

Returning to the Frenchman at the wine appreciation course, he responded to the woman in the only possibly way he could. “You need to develop your own expressions to describe wine,” he said.

That’s a nice thought. Our own language for wines. Perhaps, we will be a much more mature nation of wine-drinkers if we taste saffron and tumeric in a glass, see a Nargis or a Madhubala in a varietal, and hear a ghazal or a piece of indipop inside the bottle of another.

mukund@thehindu.co.in

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