The Wine Connoisseur (Process Analysis)

Another addition to the seven essays about alcohol. This particular process analysis essay describes how wine should be properly tasted and sipped.

 

The Wine Connoisseur

 

It’s been a year and three days precisely since that horrid wretch pressed charges against me.  I don’t know how the object in my hands could be perceived as a deadly weapon, nor do I understand how my helping him could have been seen as a threat; especially since I was aiming to educate the vile man, not harm him.

            I remember it clearly.  I was eating in the restaurant alone, as was tradition for me when the two of them walked into my dining room with a wine list.  I personally had been there for three hours and was still working on my first glass, but he just sat down and immediately ordered.  No deliberation, no finesse, no passion put into his order.  He might as well have been blind.

            I was originally willing to let this go as he had chosen a suitable wine -not the best, but certainly not the worst- once a couple came in and ordered a wine from La Crème; I immediately stood and evacuated the premises (on fear of vomiting).  No,  for this couple, the final straw came as the waiter, with his towel beautifully draped along his forearm, presented the wine to the couple.  That vile beast and his date simply glanced at the waiter (who was most delicately pouring the wine for him) smiled then went back to talking!  He had completely disregarded the entire wine tasting ceremony, and that form of disrespect could not be tolerated.  I stormed to their table, napkin in hand (what was perceived as the deadly weapon) and smacked the man on the side of the head for his stupidity. 

            “You nitwit! You horrid animal! You burr! How could you so blatantly disregard the process through which wine is to be tasted?”

            I then stepped back a little bit; my aggressor (labeled as such as he so blatantly insulted the very foundation of wine tasting) was in his twenties, and possibly may not know the proper ritual of wine tasting.  So I, with benevolent grace instructed him in the fine art and mysteries of wine.

“First, one must delight the eyes.” I instructed, “Look the waiter calmly in the eyes as he pours, watch him to make sure not an ounce of this liquid is wasted by some mishap; then thank most politely.”  The waiter followed suit as I expected.  He gently poured a glass of wine in front of me, and I looked deep into his serene eyes and thanked him like a lover.

“One must then observe the fine color of the wine, the more color it has as a white, the older it most likely is.  The opposite is true for the red, if it is closer to a brownish color than it is well aged, and ready for drink.  Finally, the last step of the vision test, one must swirl the fine liquid.”  I did so with my glass, and watched the soft golden hew of this heavenly tornado form the rivulets I so kindly expected.

“These are referred to as rivulets; not legs nor tears as the wine cannot walk, and has absolutely no reason to cry.  The number of these observed will tell you the alcohol concentration of the wine; the more there are, the higher the ethyl alcohol.”

“One must then excite the senses of your nose, allowing the wines fragrance to envelop the mind- this is the only way to fully gain an appreciation for the sensual lust for which this miraculous liquid produces.  As you open you nasal passages broaden your vision as to what you might smell, and allow the sense to take over your body and bring you into the cedar cellar from which it fermented, the apple groves from which it grew, or the slight touch of crystal water from which it sucked as a young root.”

I slowly lifted the glass to my greedy nose, allowing it to take control of my body, allowing me to swirl and dance with the shimmering ripples of a grape pool from which this sensual product was produced.  It took a moment before I regained control of my senses, and could continue with the lesson.

“Finally, you must allow the smooth liquid to reside on the tip of your tongue where you may taste the sugary sweetness of the fermented grapes, the utter ecstasy of the wine’s heart.  Slowly, then, allow it to glide over your tongue, tickling the other sense receptors; the bitter receptors on the sides of your tongue allowing you to feel the courage of the simple liquid, the sour receptors allowing you to taste its acidity.  There is no need to rush this step, on a good many occasions I've been known to wait a full half hour’s time before I swallowed.”

It was then that my lips were welcomed with the slow soft flow of the wine, gliding down towards my tongue; allowing it to fully encompass the realms of my mouth.  It tasted of a bristling flower.  It was precisely five minutes before I chose to swallow and view the effects of my instructions on the newly learned couple.

Both were staring at me, astonished.  The restraint itself seemed to have stopped to view my noteworthy explanation.  I was proud, the wine was good, and I had shared with yet another couple my experiences with wine.  Why they pressed charges against me I don’t know.  They possibly were so enthralled by their new tasting skills in wine, that they were jealous of not knowing it sooner.  Whatever the cause, I will be released soon, and most definitely applauded for my brilliant instructions on that potentially murderous day.