There’s a family tale told about me tasting wine at a young age. It was a Cabernet (I think) and when asked what I tasted I answered, “Plums.” Or some kind of stone fruit. I can’t remember it happening and it’s not a story that’s told often, actually. In any case, I was able to identify that flavor because I had eaten that fruit before. Growing up on a ranch meant experiencing all sorts of scents and flavors: wet leaves, boysenberries, stream water, ripe pears, unripe pears, etc. All of those sense memories are what I draw from when tasting wines. And for years that was just fine. But then I moved to New York and discovered a whole new world from which to draw from. If you look at a tasting wheel (they exist) you’ll find that one of the options is cat piss. Having grown up with cats all my life I certainly know what that’s like. But I can now also identify human piss. There’s also subway vomit, rotting trash (which differs in smell depending on the season), taxi cab interiors, burnt bodega coffee, street vomit, the R train, pigeons, hipsters on a Saturday morning. The list goes on. Which is why when I taste a wine like the Washington State Counnoise (it’s a Rhone varietal) I tried last night, I can identify both overripe blackberries from my life snacking on those that grew by the side of the dirt rode back home layered with touches of burnt rubber and bus interior. Stay tuned for the city-based tasting wheel that I am working on. It will revolutionize the urban wine world as we know it.
The Benefits of Developing Your Palate in NYC
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