Oenophilia

With a name like that, it's little wonder I have no connection to that world.  Well, that and the facts that since I once killed a cactus and have a very weal olfactory sense, I have no business trying to keep and appreciate fine wines.  Heck, I can't even pronounce the darned thing.  I'm much more likely to turn wine into vinegar.

I once worked with a complete and utter narcissist who was a big wine nut.  He could wax authoritative in a highbrow way about wines, theire vintages, their delicacies, their oakey scent with the bouquet of this and the hint of that.  I can barely tell you that reds go with meat and whites with fish.  Beyond that I'm utterly out of my depths when it comes to wine.

Since I'm not derived from French or Latin blood, it's little wonder.  I don't remember being around wine much besides the sacremental wine I handled as an altar boy at Mass.  If my parents ever had wine, I don't remember it, and they were by no means teetotalers.

When I went to Spain I was first introduced to wine, really.  I fell for the Rioja wines particularly which, from what I've been able to glean from oenophiles, have a lot of body.  I then tasted sherries and ports which, again from what I've been able to glean, are also a variety of wines.  Tempranillos I also drink, although not nearly as much as the Riojas.  I love wine from Montilla, Spain.  My wine tastes, then, have little to do with actual knowledge and more about parochialism.

Years after I returned from Spain the movie Sideways came out.  In that movie, love of wine is just a vehicle to move another road movie along, and there's one hilarious scene where Paul Giamatti is tasting wine and refers knowingly to a particular wine that has a hint of artichoke in it.  When I first heard that, I thought it was a bit odd, but considered that my lack of knowledge was to blame.  It turns out that Giamatti was improvising and poking fun at the industry in general and wine snobs in particular.  Between that, merlot, pinot noir and whatever else they go ga-ga over, I just don't get it.

I'll have a glass of wine with dinner once in awhile.  I don't care for stemmed glasses in general (my hands are too clumsy for 'em), so I prefer a little glass to which I refer as my dago red glass.  I can't remember ever downing an entire bottle of wine with a meal.

Admittedly, when I lived in Spain, I'd drink the Riojas that at the time were plentiful and cheap.  I like them primarily because they're less bitter and closer to grape juice than French or Italian wines.  I've also acquired a taste for some domestic wines, especially what oenophiles revile as Two Buck Chuck.  It's cheap and easy to pair with a meal.

I couldn't know the difference between a cabernet, a pinot noir, a merlot, a chardonnay and whatever else is out there.  Is Dom Perignon really that much better than everything else?  What's more, I couldn't care less.  People who get all worked up over this potable crack me up. I mean, I'm glad they have an interest that keeps them busy, but it is, after all, just something to drink.  Wine, like beer and other beverages, was just man's way to find something to drink that wouldn't sicken them, like the brackish water that was being contaminated by man's lack of hygiene.

No matter.  I enjoy my Spanish wines on occasion and domestic wines failing them.  When we're given a bottle of wine I don't know whether the bottle is good or not.  To me, it's wine, something to drink.  So if ever I'm given a bottle of wine and my expression doesn't match the level of wine contained in the bottle, don't be upset.

It's just wine ignorant me trying to figure out whether I should keep the bottle or regift it.

(c) 2014 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles