There’s nothing quite like a good whine.
So here goes.
Can someone please enlighten me as to precisely what it is that makes a wine snob so anally retentive? (Maybe anal retention is a quality I ought to admire if you knew where I would like to stick the cork from my recently opened Merlot.)
Why can’t oenophiles be left to enjoy the simple pleasures of wine without having to endure the wrist-gnawingly boring descriptions that self-appointed wine critics use to have us reaching for yet another glass?
For the life of me, I can’t think of a single adjective that can adequately describe the plethora of adjectives that WC’s (wine critics) deem appropriate to describe wine. But maybe that’s the point.
Think of a number between one and ten and they’ll say twenty. Yes, WC’s really are that perverse. And yet, as excruciatingly painful as their descriptions are, the one that really does it for me is..........wait for it..........“this is a good wine”.
What exactly IS a good wine and who gave WC’s the authority to become the presiding arbiters of taste?
To compare one car to another, for example, might involve looking at aspects such as performance, economy and comfort. You might choose to conclude then that a Mini is better than a Rolls Royce if economy is your chosen benchmark.
Either you enjoy it or you don’t. Full stop. So please fools, stop.
My main bone of contention is that nobody knows better than me about what goes on between my palate and my brain.
If sticking my tongue in an old car battery gives me a buzz, then why pay a premium for a wine that is purportedly redolent of the dying embers of an autumn fire infused with the warm scent of a newly hatched chicken that brushed its backside against the pollen laden plants that adorn the graveyard?
Let me taste it. If I like it, then I think it’s good and that’s good enough for me.
But I wouldn't ever presume to then tell the world that here is a good wine.
No matter how presumptuous that wine may be.
Oh no. I’ve started.